office morale booster prompt anon is a mouthful for sure - can i be work anon?
there are a few people who apply to be a morale booster, for one reason or another (like the minimal qualifications, or the drastic reduction in their food budget for the month... or just being a feedee outside of work already), but when i saw the discussion in the reblogs, i realized i also like the idea of the company "laterally promoting" an underperforming worker into the role of morale booster (unless they'd rather be laid off).
imagine the "walk of shame" that happens when a person nervously walks into a meeting room for their performance review... and walks out hours later with a very distinctive collar and staring at the floor. how long does it take their coworkers to adapt to the new hierarchy? do the coworkers go easy on this new unpracticed morale booster, or do the coworkers push them so that everyone remembers their place?
Hello again work anon, and thank you for continuing to feed my inbox with delicious prompts.
Dev has always had a reputation as the office asshole. Talking down to the new hires, blatantly flirting and getting huffy when he gets rejected, cracking cruel jokes loud enough for everyone to hear.
Management never really minded - his sales numbers were among the top in his division, so he got a long leash. Lately though, those numbers have been down. Way down.
First one of his regular accounts didn't renew. Then another cut their order back. Suddenly, he was scrabbling desperately to meet his quota. He was called into the department head's office, and came out looking pale. Today, he got called in for the final meeting. The one you knew was coming. The one you'd been waiting for.
When he comes out after an hour, he's sheepish, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. They'd let him keep his suit shirt and pants on, he might as well enjoy them while they still fit, but his expensive silk tie was gone, replaced by a thick leather collar. A small metal tag dangled from the o-ring. You couldn't see it clearly from this distance, but you know what was stamped on there. His start weight. Given Dev's prepped lunches of grilled chicken and the hours he puts in after work at the gym, you're sure it's low, and mostly lean muscle.
You've been hoping for this moment for an age. Your resentment of the cocky pretty boy who thought he could coast by has built to the point that you've been aching for the chance to put him in his place.
You don't even wait for him to make it to his new cubicle, you intercept him on the way and stand in front of him, hands on your hips. He doesn't look up, won't make eye contacct, but he knows what's coming. Hell, he's had plenty of fun with office pets over the years.
You slip a ffinger through the ring of collar and lead him to the special break room, the one that's used for those office perks that need a little extra discipline. There are stocks, and a reclinging chair with straps that's perfect for funnel feeding, but you lead Dev to a pair of manacles chained to a heavy ring on the wall and push him to his knees, securing his hands above his head.
He looks pathetic like that, kneeling, the stretch of his arms forcing his head back and up. You tsk under your breath and slide a finger under his chin. You force it further upwards, making him look at you. Letting him understand what's coming.
The room is well stocked with everything you might need. You grab a funnel mask from the rack and crack open the fridge, pulling out two jugs of weight gain shake. One birthday cake flavour, one chocolate brownie. Each jug contains a days worth of calories for a normal person. A perfecct way to warm up your new toy.
Dev struggles a little as you fit the mask to his face, slipping the stem of the funnel between his lips so it presses down on his tongue. It makes him drool, and you swipe your thumb through the mess, smearing it across his face. You smile as he pulls away, tries to maintain his dignity. That won't last long.
You start pouring shake into the funnel, watching as Dev struggles against it and sputters before the mounting pressure in his throat forces him to start swallowing. Despite himself, he moans a little at the rich creamy taste.
You keep pouring, slowly, steadily. You're having too much fun right now to rush. You watch as Dev obediently gulps, mouthsul after mouthful slipping down his throat and packing out the stoamch that is still toned and flat, for now. You can't wait to watch a doughy roll spill over his waistband, his seams stretched tight until he gives up on the pants altogether and just waddles around the office in underwear like the rest of the pets do.
The first jug is empty, and Dev is panting, looking up at you in desperation. Please, his eyes say, no more. I can't.
You let your face soften, make him think for a moment that he'll get some relief. Then you grab the second jug.
You pour this one more quickly, not giving Dev a chance to resist the heavy stream of liquid fat and sugar you're pouring into him. By the time the jug is half gone he's moaning with every swallow, the distended bulge of his stomach visible unde rhis crisp shirt, the buttons starting to part.
There's a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his eyes are locked on you. Begging. Pleading. You savour it.
The last few mouthfuls are hard work. You have to move a hnad to Dev's throat, masssage his Adam's apple to force him to swallow. Another mouthful. Another. He's notnfighting back anymore, but he's so full it's still difficult to force the last mouthfuls down. Finally, with one last whimpering gulp, the jug is empty.
You set it down and kneel in front of your plaything. You press a hand against the taut curve of his upper belly and enjoy the gasp of pain you draw out of him. 'Good piggy,' you whisper. 'This is a good start.'
You take the funnel mask away from his face and he pants at the relief, shifting on his knees, trying to ease his discomfort. You can tell he wants to lie down somewhere private, rub his gut and ease some of the pain.
You leave him there. Kneeling. Bloated. Moaning at the pressure in his stomach as he starts digesting all that heavy, creamy slop into a new layer of soft blubber.
You'll be back soon. In the meantime, you'll let someone else have some fun with him. You're a good coworker, after all.
