How To The Upper Office

I'm up to my tits in my own semen.

That's not a joke or an exaggeration. It's truth. I've been sat here for... It only seems like 8 hours this time...and already, I've filled my vat.

My memory is... Fuzzy, at best. I'm having trouble just staying lucid and can only remember short bursts of information, so saying I've been here 8 hours? A guess, at best.

Every time I shake my hugely busty torso, a wave of cum splashes over me and the sides of my tub in the floor. All I do is keep sucking, licking and kissing my cockhead. Its an impulse. Every time I blow my load, I let it sweep over me or drool out of my mouth before simply carrying on. I'm nothing but a cum fountain at this stage. The pleasure is too much - It feels too good. I'm a slave to my own dick. Nothing could tear me away, I don't even need the binds that keep me pinned in this spunk filled container.

I've been given too much luxury they said. They thought I'd been prioritising my personal life over my work life. So without much warning they began to repress my will again. Now, I spend every night here and every day servicing the staff.

Trish was in fairly heavy bondage. Arms tied behind her back, she was sitting in a 2 foot deep vat in a position she was now extremely used too. For the past several weeks, months, or even possibly years her free will had diminished somewhat as her bodily urges began to increase. Long story short, she'd been almost constantly masturbating whenever she wasn't working on a specific job. Sometimes even during.

Her huge, rubbery tits and butt had increased in size by about 20% while her waist had gotten smaller and more flexible. Her hair was also longer and reached down her back to just above her hips. Currently, it floated on top of the ever present semen bath. She was barely self aware, Batching glimpses of herself in mirrored surfaces on the rare occasion she could focus only highlighted that she was even more sexualised than she had been before, somehow.

She was told she was 'too valuable' to be allowed as much freedom as she'd been experiencing before, especially during her contracted hours, so her bosses had decided to limit her movement. Her asshole was fitted with a very large, uncomfortable, often vibrating inflatable butt plug and attached to a track that lead around the building through her new workplace, to her new home and through the corridors in between. They were the only places she could go since she couldn't remove herself from the cursed track. To make sure she travelled in the right direction and uninterrupted by horny people on the path, an optional track was also fitted on the roof and attached to a massive cock gag. This one was motorised, and when attached practically dragged Trish by the mouth to her next job, at a pace just above her usual walking speed.

At first, her mind was in a haze. She barely remembered where she was and felt lost in a sea of pleasure. Her belongings, purse and bank card were mockingly placed in a safe she passed daily, but her dulled brain barely noticed this detail. It took some time before she finally fell through the fog and became conscious to her situation, her oldest memory since kidnapping being of spunking in her own mouth and swallowing a massive load, surrounded by pleased looking personnel who congratulated each other and left Trish to repeat her self fellatio again and again. Able to marginally focus, she realised they were messing with her mind and forcing her to become an almost automatic slave. Disgusting.

Slowly, after several more months of falling in and out of this autonomy, she begun to breach the fog further. Little things were big deals to her, even twitching her hips or being slightly ahead of the motorised track meant she could regain a semblance of control of her body. Things they - the anonymous they - wouldn't notice.

Until this, her experience with the company she worked for could be described as it was a curious lifestyle change, but now? She'd been enslaved. Even stuck in her obnoxious pink-doll body with her huge ass and gargantuan boobs she knew it was wrong for them to steal her away and she swore she'd get out of this mess.

She was privy to a lot of talk. During her times out of her vat she was used as a sex object. While sucking or fucking the unwitting business leaders she'd hear bits of information. Snippets, things that she was able to piece together. Often during some lude act customers would talk on the phone or have meetings that let slip gossip a free person could use. But Trish the doll was no longer free - Trish was just a fuck machine. They paid her no mind, didn't consider her human anymore, that was obvious. And this had a curious effect on the once free spirited toy - she was full to the brim with a seething rage.

She had been enslaved, that was the crux of the matter. Beyond all the filthy acts, beyond all the contracts - even beyond the promise that she'd be able to say no if she could muster it. These people had tried - and would fail - to rob her of her free will. So they changed the rules of the game, and kidnapped the poor girl. An act that didn't deserve forgiveness. There was one thing that begun filling her cum soaked mind and pushing the jizz out of it... and that was how to escape.

She knew a lot of the dirty little secrets going on in upper management. She'd deciphered that was where she was kept - a brainless stress reliever wasn't suitable for public use, she was only for the wealthiest and most powerful. Her foggy mind became clearer by the day and soon, she realised she'd be able to break her control. In fact, the time came that she realised she was doing her duties consciously and could step out of line at any moment. Due to their relaxed attitude towards their fuck puppet, they didn't even keep her hands bound during the day - an obnoxious man in a suit had once said they added to the service she could provide - and she'd taken to writing in a hidden journal full of their dirty secrets, stored safely in the desk of an unwitting client.

Sure, she was still addicted to her own cum, craving it all the time in fact. But she could resist her urges and eventually even the commands given to her by her autopiloted brain. She proved it to herself constantly by stepping out of sync or allowing herself to relax during down time. As long as she pleased her employers on request and pleasured herself at night when the guards were watching, nobody was any the wiser. Being a self sucking addict actually helped her keep up the act.

She still suffered humiliation after humiliation, but with her half on mind she knew she had to remain complacent. She spent a long time 'hazing' a new office worker, who was tasked with eating out Trish's asshole on a daily basis for the first week she was employed there. The rest of these high flying executive types laughed and jeered as she did so and on the last two days they did it, fucked Trish first. They made the 'poor' (but still complacent to slavery judging by the way she treated Trish as a human dildo after) woman finish up by putting makeup on an covering Trish's huge ass with kiss marks, leaving them on for the rest of the day. They were a debased lot, spoiled in their own success and happy to torment anyone as they saw fit. No awareness of how close their bubble was to bursting.

She'd also realised how they got her. The remote her old manager used to wield! She saw it once or twice in the office, before she'd been overpowered by lust again or had her head forced in to someone's lap. She needed to get that as a priority.

She was guessing she had been there for well over a year in that state, but this was little more than an abstract figure. She also realised she was a dirty little secret of the office by the way she'd be 'stored away' on occasion, her suspicion based on the way that when visitors came she was kept out of sight in a tight, hot closet the guide rail could be set to enter. It was in here during the long, sweaty storage sessions that she devised a plan of action.

There was a definite schedule. With no clocks on the walls she counted days by assuming her 'breaks' would be roughly every 18 hours. Every 7 or so days she got a window of about 2 hours on her own, where the security seemed lax and without any real substance. In her mind, this is when she'd strike.

Despite her foggy mind, her body felt strong. Her huge ass, hips and thighs were powerful - the jiggly mass hiding a lot more strength than her old human body would have been able to muster. With her clarity growing by the day her thicc body was becoming less of a sex toy and more of a weapon.

There was another aspect to her opportunity to make a move. There was a semi-regular visitor who liked to fuck Trish's face once in a while, typically before this break window she'd discovered. He seemed like a bashful man and gave off the impression of not being part of the 'higher ups' and it was apparent he only visited when she was unescorted. She often mused during his clumsy and oddly nervous throat fuckings that he might have been there without the offices permission. Crucially, he didn't like her bondage and often unplugged her, taking her in to a room away from the tracks, clearly a 'just in case someone else walked in' tactic. She was against the idea of hurting anybody, but he was the only weak link who could be exploited - weather or not he knew she was essentially a slave was both unknown and inconsequential. She begun counting his visits as an estimation of a week and making mental notes of his habits and if she ever saw someone else.

by the 8th time since her mental awakening, she was ready.

As his cum leaked out of her mouth, rolled off her rubbery tits and dripped on to the floor, the man pushed his wheeled chair back turned and zipped himself up. Trish, silently, stood up to her full height readying herself to finally use her body and free will again. A shock of adrenaline coursed through her, almost like her flight or fight instinct was igniting and with a powerful lunge, she jumped towards him and rammed her huge buttocks in to the mans head. His chair tipped over and their full weight landed roughly on the floor. Her gargantuan ass fell on top of the perverts head. She smirked - he was out cold. By the bulk of her ass, she'd given herself the chance of freedom. She rolled off him, jiggling wildly as she tried to balance and remind herself of how to move independently.

The thud was quiet enough due to the carpeted floor in the office, but she was overcome with a paranoid sensation. For all she knew the building was full. Checking the mans pulse and realising he was fortunately just stunned, she took his tie off and used it to bind his wrists. The impact of the floor likely hurt more than her butt given how it had the composition of soft silicone, she mused. Gagging him with some cellotape and rolled up paper, she pulled down his trousers and tightened his belt around his ankles, before dragging him over to a closet and laying him down in it. It was easy - she was coming to realise her whole body was vastly stronger than she'd expected.

Trish set her plan in to action. She'd seen the higher up staff members enter their password hundreds of times while they were working and she was sat on their cock and used it to log in to one of the computers, quickly downloading as much information on to a USB she found in a cupboard. Grabbing her secret notebook out of the desk, she mused on where to put them. She had no clothes and couldn't find a convenient bag or backpack. She only had one place she could store them safely...

Thankful for the first time that she constantly secreted a lubricant, she put both items in a clear plastic bag and slavered them in her drool, before she pushed them in to her butthole, lodging them inside her cavity until she'd need them again. Rolling her eyes at the task in a frustrated manner, she made sure to get them right up in to her orifice - she was elbow deep before she was satisfied they were secure enough. Her extremely elastic, tight hole made sure that they wouldn't fall out and due to her bodies sensitivity, they felt surprisingly good in there. Despite the massive amount of use, she showed no signs of wear and tear and was elastic as ever. Chalk one up for whoever designed her body, she thought to herself.

Her mind recovering, she begun to think of her next move. A pink, sentient sex doll with an ass as big as double doors and boobs the size of beach balls wouldn't remain hidden for long. She had to disguise herself. Peering through the office window, she could tell it was late at night and she'd at least have less chance running in to people. A place like this though, surely it would have cameras. She thought long and hard, her mind becoming clearer by the moment.

If she was a secret up here... then she had to get out of the building. She couldn't trust anyone to help her since she didn't know how far the corruption went but once out, maybe she'd be able to tell her story. Therefore... She needed to get two things before leaving. The remote her old boss had shown her that controlled settings on her body, and access to her bank account. The amount she'd been paid would be enough to hire security and live... but how would she get out?

Entering the big office room, she thought back to one of her sessions where she'd seen where they kept her belongings. They were so complacent, they openly discussed Trish and her predicament while making her dance or bounce for them, unknowing of the fact she was technically conscious. They'd shown her, multiple times, the source of her torment. The controller, the one thing that could make her complacent to everything they'd done. Fiddling about with the safe, she entered the code she'd seen countless times and finally, got her hands on the device that controlled her body and mind. A small, pink, silicone controller covered in buttons. Her salvation. Conveniently stored with her ID and bank cards too. They were so sure they'd had Trish under their spell, they didn't plan for any sort of breakout attempt. Their obnoxious lack of concern for this only made her angrier - they made her a machine. They must have spent months or years treating her like a common utensil, incapable of doing anything to harm them. She was going to tear them apart when she got her opportunity.

"I'm going to play with this later" she audibly said to herself, trying to diffuse her mind from the growing red mist, before taking a nearby glasses case and placing it inside. Shutting it carefully so as not to press any buttons accidentally, she Then followed the path of some of the other bits and bobs she'd taken, and promptly shoved it straight up her ass as well. Feeling full - although not even close to capacity - she resumed thinking of a way to escape.

Time was on her side, but there was a proverbial ticking clock. Trish thought of a few options and even tried on some of the large coats on a coatrack in the office, but in truth not even the XL man size trench coat she found on covered close to enough. The best she could do was slightly cover her left tit if she dragged all the material to one side. No, she needed to leave another way and figure out clothing later. Not good enough. She put on a hat and a pair of sunglasses left in a cupboard and scoffed at her reflection - she was far from incognito. The pink of her skin needed covering... Maybe she could pass for a fat chick from a distance, if she managed to cover her obvious doll features and hourglass figure?

Over the course of 20 minutes, Trish managed to fashion a 'dress and shawl' out of some old rags and coats she found in a service closet. She'd managed to cover up most of her body, but the realisation that she could barely pass for a normal human was one she had to ignore. The fabric was getting clingy due to the oily lubricant she produced, so she knew before long even if her disguise worked, it was going to stand out for different reasons. Besides, the material rubbing against her obnoxiously large cockhead was sending pleasurable shivers through her body and she could already see evidence of precum dripping on to the floor. Resisting the urge to lap it up, she carried on her improvisational escape.

She only needed it to work until she'd found a place to conceal herself. With the staff unsuspecting of her mind being free she was certain that, as long as she could fool whoever was watching security cameras long enough to get out, she'd be able to hold up somewhere. The itching thought at the back of her mind knew it was desperation driving her, but she could only imagine what they'd do if they found her again. She had no reason to assume there was a happy ending in store there, and she'd passed the point of no return when she hit her client earlier.

Stepping in to the hallway in her ridiculous outfit and hoping beyond hope the camera was unmanned, she cautiously snuck to the stairwell. Not a sound. For the first time in her fractured memory, she felt a cool breeze flowing from below the stairs. Looking down and noting nobody, she tried to decide if the elevator was a better route.

"No idea..." she mused to herself.

A pang of fear jolted through her body and for the first time, she was aware just how small she was. With the fear bubbling in her stomach, she took the first step to freedom.

Chapter 2.

Trish had decided to go to the bowels of the building. The fear took over and she decided being in public was too risky - instead, she chose to risk time beneath the ground floor. Her original plan had been to hide in a storage room, her rubbery body passing for an old prop or... something. She didn't know. What she found was that, at what turned out was a very early time in the morning, nobody was around the basement levels. She was free to explore and, eventually, found a way of the premises via a grate leading to what seemed like an old storm drain system.

Long story short? She was lost. SO lost in fact she was becoming confident she couldn't be tracked. The labyrinth of long, dark and winding tunnels were confusing at best and at worst, life threatening. Often she was knee deep in drainage water. A flood was very possible, she had no idea what season it was or what the weather was like.

One thing kept cropping up in her mind. It was dangerous to humans... Not to her though. She wasn't sure she even qualified as alive. Since her transformation she was almost certain she was just a rubber mass. One of the more grim musings she'd had when she thought of her lack of a need to eat... or breath... or go to the toilet. She feared that whatever kept her walking and talking wasn't biological anymore, she certainly has no idea how her body worked.

But she didn't have time to think about that - she was elbow deep in her own asshole trying to dig out her property. It had slipped further up her passage and she was frantically trying to position herself where she could reach as far in as possible.

"Come on... Come on..." She growled to herself, feeling the end of one of the objects brush against her extremely lubed and slippery finger.

She managed to get a slight grip and, slowly, pried it out while ignoring the lovely feeling that it caused by sliding it along her inner passage. Pushing out the mass, she finally dislodged what she was after. The remote control she'd taken - the one that seemed to control her entire deviant body. Wrapping the rest in the rags and fashioning a quick backpack sling, she took the time to examine the device.

It was coloured the same as her skin and had a sleek feel to it. It felt expensive and surprisingly heavy, textured like it could survive a knock or two. That was good. The buttons on top were numerous and indented in to her surface. It was a sturdy thing. Annoyingly, it had no instructions and she didn't like the idea of pressing things blindly - what if she shut off her brain again? Trish saw it as an opportunity to regain her independence. If she could figure out how to use it, she'd be free... But first, she needed to get out of the dank hole she was now in.