She had been alone under the boardroom table for at least twenty minutes now. From her toes to her ass cheeks, Melody's legs were starting to cramp, and one of the very few people who had spoken to her all day had just been forbidden to say another word to her.
"Hello! Newbie! Are you still under there?"
Gwyneth popped her head back under the boardroom table. She had cleaned the orgasmic muck from her face and touched up her shiny pale lip gloss.
"Your Master sent me here to fetch you. He said to tell you he really likes your outfit."
She touched a slip of paper to the lead clipped to Melody's collar. The symbol on the paper glowed ember red as the lock disengaged, freeing Melody from the underside of the table. The paper ignited with a flash, vanishing into ash and soot. Melody stretched out her thick calves and thighs, the naughty schoolgirl outfit that she had stolen earlier that morning, flattered her hourglass BBW figure. Gwyneth snuck a long lazy flirty look at Melody's thick ass, as her skirt rode up her legs.
"I am sorry for my mistress, she has definite views on certain things, and has no problems expressing herself. Follow me, it's time to get cleaned up and eat."
Melody followed Gwyneth to a stairwell she had never seen on this floor. Other women, girls and males of all stripes moved urgently, some being treated for injuries, others being pampered.
How many were there?
She couldn't count the number of individual ownership marks, because after a moment of viewing, they got hard to remember. Five marks, maybe more, she couldn't tell. She saw her own mark quite a few times, and those people she could remember a few faces. Some people didn't have obvious marks.
Gwyneth, still clothed only in her knee pads and collar, led Melody to a locker room. She stepped into some shower sandals. Gwyneth's narrow thin frame and pixie cut hair accentuated a boyish quality about her, but her thick perky nipples and pouty labia majora put an end to any doubt that she was anything but all woman.
"Let's put that nice outfit of yours into your locker. This will be your locker, well, forever. It has your mark on the front, and should open at your, or your Master's touch."
Melody self-consciously disrobed. Wiggling out of her skirt and blouse she faced her locker. In many ways, this was her worst nightmare come to life. Dozens of beautiful people and their perfect bodies walking around here to illustrate how very large and imperfect Melody's body really was. Her absolute hell had them laughing and pointing, but no one but Gwyneth seemed to be paying attention to her. Melody placed her hand on the locker. The lock groaned under her thumb, and with a click, it was open. The swirling abyss of limbo within stretched infinitely in front of her eyes. A maelstrom of objects falling and spinning in the wind, triggered a fear response from deep inside her. Melody flinched away from the sight, vertigo taking hold immediately.
Gwyneth casually took Melody's things and pitched them into the locker. Gazing steadily into the void, she yelled something Melody could not hear over the noise of the howling winds. She closed Melody's locker with a slam. Fixing her wind blown hair, Gwyneth held out in her left hand some sandals.
"From your locker. Lots of dead useful stuff in there, just ask for it. Do you need to vomit, after sucking all that cock and pussy this morning? Sometimes I do, especially if someone uses me at the board meeting as a urinal."
"Thank you, no, I would like to use the toilet."
Melody squirmed a little. She had been holding her bladder since she left the underside of the boardroom table. Gwyneth pointed, her fingers delicate and well manicured, each fingernail trimmed short and rounded.
"Over there."
In the center of the room sat a few clusters of toilets situated in rings of five with the bowls of the facility facing to the outside of the circle. Clusters of the soulless stood around toilets and the people using the them. They were all casually laughing, talking, pooping like this arrangement was the most normal thing in the world.
"oh my god."
"its only weird the first dozen or so times."
Gwyneth crossed Melody's path and sat on a toilet.
"See, it's not so traumatic."
Gwyneth started to pee, giggled, jumped, and squirmed, locking her knees together as she finished. She appeared to be enjoying the process too much in Mel's opinion.
Melody sat, looked down at her tits, her knees, her sandaled feet as her well padded ass spread over the edges of the seat and her hip flesh made contact with an industrial pipe fitting.
Somehow she always managed to be the fat girl among the thin and beautiful, and as her absolute mortification set in, she tried her best to become invisible once more. Deep in her self-flagellation, a disembodied tongue began to lick her privates clean, Melody, completely unprepared, sprang from the toilet with a shout.
"Are you done? Oh! Sorry about the tongue, it's a spell, not alive it think. The showers are this way."
Melody wasn't reassured Gwyneth's lack of certainty in the matter but followed her to the steamy showers. Gwyneth stopped at a holding basket, slid her knee pads down her slim legs and pointed toes. She placed them in the basket and stepped into the shower.
"They take forever to dry completely."
Melody followed, stepping into the warm stream of water.
Gwyneth scrubbed body wash onto Melody's skin. The lather built under the fingers of the smaller girl on the ample flesh and heavy curves of the larger. The thought kept sliding through Melody's mind that she should be uncomfortable, that this should be weird, but the heat and slickness gathering in her puffy cunt spoke to a need for more contact, of a more intimate nature.
"I wish I had tits like yours," Gwyneth exhaled lustily, her hands scrubbed and cradled Melody's massive hanging udder flesh, "I can't even lift them."
Gwyneth had Melody backed against the wall of the shower. She fingered her own tiny tits and stiff nipples.
"I think my mistress keeps me because I'm built like a boy. She fucks me like I'm a boy. I don't know why she just didn't find a boy."
She rinsed the soap from Melody's body, fondling all the tits and ass, she pined for. Her mouth so close to Melody's nipple, Melody could feel Gwyneth's breath, and she liked it.
"We need to get something to eat."
The thick fluffy towels were soft and a rare moment of pure pleasure for Melody, who took the moment to just enjoy. Gwyneth helped her dry around her collar since it was something new to adjust to. She retrieved her kneepads from the basket.
"Alright, back in uniform!"
Gwyneth held out another set of knee pads, and set her sandals back into her own locker.
"You need to wear these."
Melody took the knee pads, lamenting that they were probably another in a long line of clothing, with the bullshit description of one size fits all. She took the protective gear from Gwen, giving them a sceptical once over.
"And what else?"
"Nothing else, unless you are told different. It's the standing company dress code for our station. Put your sandals away in your locker. Are you hungry? I'm hungry. Let's eat."
Melody slipped the pads over her thick calves and settled them to a comfortable place on her knees.
"Can we talk?"
Prepared for the experience of her locker, Melody looked away at the moment of opening and pitched the shower sandals right in, allowing the locker to slam shut on its own.
"Of course we can. The chairman ordered me to orient you, and his order supersedes my mistress'. And well, you're sweet."
Melody blushed from her face to her hardening nipples. Since signing her contract, her libido had raced away from her, her body constantly aroused. She had experimented with girls in college and high school, they never reciprocated her attentions with anything that resembled effort. Melody went unsatisfied too often, while her partner of the moment would leave her cheeks cum drenched or sore and numb.
Her very physical attraction to Gwyneth was growing.
It felt more than bizarre to be walking among her unaware former co-workers, knowing who had ownership over their own soul and who didn't just by who noticed you was unnerving. Treading the hallways of the office naked and barefoot, except for a collar and knee pads, was doubly so.
Still, Melody thought, she was lucky to be following Gwen's tight little ass around. At least someone was explaining the shift in what she was seeing. It was the same office, the same people, but everything she knew about the world was wrong. The head secretary, who had always terrified Melody, was dressed in the same knee pads as they were, with a heavy brass cow bell around her neck and inexplicably had six breasts, all pierced in some form or fashion. Melody could never remember her in anything other than a sharp business suit. The supervisor, that used to ride everyone's ass, was literally riding the head secretary's ass. Melody wondered what other things she hadn't seen in the course of a work day.
The plush of the carpet tickled between her toes, but eventually it gave way to cold ceramic tile of the lunch room. Within, there seemed to be a mix of people both aware and unaware. The juxtaposition of the two peoples those dressed in business attire and those mostly nude or in leather or rubber fetish clothing was almost funny.
Some of the soulless ate from bowls of food on the ground, like pets, others sucked milk and cum straight from the source. Fluids splattered on the clothes and tables, and the unaware types never noticed.
"Some of us call them Zombies. You can move around them, talk to them, steal their stuff, do everything but touch them in a sexual manner. Do that, and they have anxiety attacks. Hells knows why."
She sat at the bar, which was tended by a man in a leather mask.
"Hey Phil, get me the regular." Phil pointed at Melody. "Her? Honey do you want something sweet or salty?"
"Salty sounds good. It there a menu?"
"You'll come to know it."
Phil scribbled a note, and slid it over to the kitchen. Melody's mouth hung open at the spectacle all around them.
"This might take a moment, you think this is something, you need to see the executive dining area. I understand the furniture is all employees holding poses."
From behind the kitchen door stepped a man and a woman, the woman, thick nippled, was as generously endowed of tit-flesh as Melody, and a good foot taller. The man was tiny of frame, but his cock and balls were enormous, each nut being at least the size of her clenched fist.
"Hi Helga."
Helga sat on the bar stool next to the blushing Gwyneth, the bullballed man sat on the bar next to Melody. This was no small accomplishment seeing as both his hands were chained so that his hands could not touch his cock.
"Hello little one, so hungry again for Helga's feedings? And who is your new friend, should Helga be worried?"
"This is Melody, Helga, a new trainee I am walking through orientation. I do not know if she will be milk modified, so no need to worry."
Gwyneth crawled into Helga's lap and started to nurse from her ample breast. Melody was at a loss, and more than a little flustered. There was a jealousy building in a place she had never had before.
"Please miss, it hurts if you don't feed."
Distracted by Helga, Melody had almost forgotten about the man in chains. She could practically see his testicle increasing in size underneath the heavy thick silver cock-rings. She pitied him, the throbbing, unable to concentrate for state of his hyper-arousal. Looking at him, his cock, those huge balls, she became aware of her desire, she really wanted to... feed.
Her mouth stretched to engulf his cock and he rocked forward on the bar. A butt-plug she hadn't seen started both vibrating and pistoning within him. He came like a gentle warm fountain, not because of her sucking, but because of the prostate milking of the butt-plug.
Melody fed until he was dry, a good ten minutes or so. He cried out. He was shaking, and even though she knew his dick was too sensitive to be touched, she sucked and throated him clean anyway. She watched the jumping of his balls as they worked to force out a cum supply that was already exhausted. She had taken all he had to give and wanted more.
Her eyes sought out Gwyneth, who switched teats periodically, Helga's stiff nipples providing more milk than the tiny Gwyneth could consume at a setting. Helga cradled her in her lap, fingering Gwyneth's puffy cunt during the process, until Gwyneth had her fill.
"That's Helga's good little one, grow up big and strong like Helga."
Gwyneth drummed on the milk baby grown round in her full belly.
"Thanks Helga!"
Gwen wiped the dribbled milk from her chin and chest with a paper napkin, the bloom in her pale cheeks rosy and bright, her skin flushed.
