Coup or Negotiations?

Warren’s soft, plush tongue was buried so deep in Christina’s cunt that the new bimbo’s nose mashed against her clit with every greedy stroke.

Christina sat on the edge of the big bed, thighs spread wide, heavy tits resting on her stomach, one hand fisted in the former inventor’s soft hair. She rolled her hips in slow, filthy circles, smearing her wetness all over Wren’s pretty face. The pink cage between the sissy’s thighs glinted with fresh leakage every time Christina’s taste hit the vapid little brain just right.

A few feet away Melissa and Tiff had Josh’s thick cock trapped between four heavy, spit-slick tits. They worked him in long, coordinated strokes—pressing their soft flesh tight, sliding from base to head, then separating just long enough for both of them to suckle the leaking tip together before wrapping him up again. Josh stood with empty eyes half-closed, massive cock throbbing, heavy balls drawn up tight. Every time the fat head popped free of their cleavage one of the bimbos would moan around it like it was the best thing she had ever tasted.

“Harder,” Christina ordered, voice thick. “Choke that cock with your tits. I want him dark purple and dripping before he splits me open.”

Melissa and Tiff moaned in unison and squeezed tighter, bouncing their heavy breasts up and down the shaft until the wet slap of tit-flesh on cock filled the room. Christina ground harder against Wren’s mouth.

“Deeper, you locked little slut. Tongue-fuck your owner’s hole. I want to feel you gagging on my cunt.”

Wren whimpered and obeyed, pushing her soft tongue as far as it would go, licking and sucking and moaning like the vapid, horny bimbo she now was. Her caged clitty jerked helplessly and added another clear drop to the growing puddle on the carpet.

The designer bag on the dresser started vibrating again. Nineteenth cycle. Christina ignored it until she had already climbed onto Josh’s lap, sunk every thick inch of his cock into her dripping cunt, and started riding him with deep, rolling strokes. Only then did she snatch the phone out of the bag, still fully impaled, tits bouncing, Wren’s tongue now working frantically over her stretched rim from behind.

She answered on the rise.

“What.”

“Mr. Warren? Board meeting. Tokyo partners. Forty minutes late. Where the fuck are you?”

Christina laughed, low and slutty, and dropped her weight so Josh’s cock punched against her cervix. Wren’s tongue pushed deeper into her ass at the same moment. The dual sensation made her moan straight into the phone.

“Mr. Warren is permanently unavailable,” she panted, grinding. “This is Christina. Your CTO is face-down under my ass right now with a pretty pink cage locked around what’s left of her cock. She’s a locked little bimbo sissy. Soft tits. Soft brain. Soft, greedy holes. She belongs to me. Tell Tokyo the product works even better than the brochures promised— the inventor is currently tongue-fucking her owner’s cunt and ass while a real cock rearranges her insides. Any other questions?”

Silence. Then the colder executive voice.

“Repeat that. Slowly.”

Christina did—while still riding. She described the pink syringe between wet gasps. Described the new B-cups and the tiny caged clitty while Josh’s thick shaft stretched her open. Described how the former head of product development now begged to keep her useless little cock locked and her mouth full. Every filthy detail was delivered between the wet slap of her cunt on Josh’s hips and the muffled, happy moans of Wren eating her from behind. Melissa and Tiff had crawled up to suck and bite Christina’s swinging tits, adding extra wet noise for the boardroom speakers.

When she finished, the cold voice simply said, “Stay where you are.”

The line died.

Christina tossed the phone, grabbed Wren’s hair, and shoved the bimbo’s face harder against her ass.

“Orgy. Now. Every hole. Every cock. Make it messy.”

Bodies flooded the bed.

Christina stayed impaled on Josh, fucking herself in long, greedy strokes while Wren’s tongue alternated between her clit and her stretched rim. Melissa swung a leg over Josh’s face and ground her dripping cunt down onto his mouth. Tiff straddled Wren’s soft back, facing Christina, and the two of them made out sloppily while Brad stepped up behind Tiff and sank his thick cock into her in one thrust. Craig took Melissa from behind so both bimbos were being railed while they sat on the central pair. The wet, rhythmic chaos of multiple couplings filled the suite—skin slapping, cunts squelching, locked little clitty cages clicking, soft thank-yous and filthy orders overlapping.

Christina came hard, squirting around Josh’s cock, flooding his balls and Wren’s eager tongue. She kept riding through it, ordered Wren to push two soft fingers into her ass alongside the tongue, and came again with a broken shout. She switched positions without ever letting the pleasure dip: on her back with Josh pounding her deep while Wren sat on her face and Melissa and Tiff took turns smothering Josh’s mouth and sucking Christina’s heavy tits. Brad and Craig rotated through every available hole. Wren was bent over, fucked, filled, then immediately put back to work licking cum out of whoever had just been used. The pink cage between her soft thighs stayed shiny with constant helpless leakage.

They were in the middle of a particularly filthy train—Josh buried to the hilt in Christina’s cunt from behind while she ate Sierra’s pussy, Wren underneath Sierra licking everything that dripped, Brad and Craig tag-teaming Melissa and Tiff against the headboard—when the front door exploded inward.

Armed men in black tactical gear poured in. Rifles up. No warnings. Within twenty seconds every member of the harem was face-down, zip-tied, still dripping. Christina felt cold metal near her cheek while Josh’s cock was still twitching inside her as they hauled him off.

The vans were windowless. The facility was white and windowless and smelled like money and bleach. They were cleaned, examined, and reassembled in a glass-walled conference room that still had a long polished table even though half the occupants were naked and marked with drying cum.

Christina sat at one end in an open robe that did nothing to hide her heavy, spit-shined tits. Josh knelt at her right, still hard, collar on. Wren knelt at her left, soft B-cups rising and falling, chrome cage already swapped on during processing, eyes glassy. The rest of the collection knelt along the wall under guard.

Three executives faced her. The older man from the phone spoke first.

“You transformed our CTO into a locked sissy bimbo on an unlogged dose, then announced it on a recorded line. Under normal circumstances you would already be vacant and shipped to a franchise house. Instead we ran your numbers. Highest conversion rate we have ever recorded. You are too valuable to erase.”

He steepled his fingers.

“Deal. You become senior talent scout and field trainer. Full corporate backing. You keep the original himbo and the new sissy unit as permanent personal property—no recall. The rest of your current collection is redistributed. You keep your mind and your authority. You belong to BimboTech in every legal sense. Or we put you in the chair tonight and you spend the rest of your life as a heavy-titted, empty-headed franchise model who can’t remember her own name.”

Christina didn’t answer with words at first.

She snapped her fingers.

Josh and Wren crawled forward in perfect unison. She spread her thighs on the leather chair, pulled Wren’s soft mouth onto her still-dripping cunt, and guided Josh’s thick cock between her heavy tits so he could fuck her cleavage while the executives watched. Only then did she speak—voice steady even as Wren’s tongue pushed deep and Josh’s fat cock slid wetly between her tits.

“I keep Josh and Wren. Full ownership. No recall clauses. Final say on any unit I personally convert. Standing override on any board decision that touches my personal property.” She rolled her hips against Wren’s face and squeezed her tits tighter around Josh’s shaft. “And I negotiate the fine print while my property keeps my cunt and my tits occupied. Deal?”

The older man watched the soft bimbo tongue working between Christina’s thighs and the thick himbo cock turning her cleavage shiny. He nodded once.

“Acceptable. Sign.”

She signed every page one-handed while Wren ate her through two quiet, shuddering orgasms and Josh fucked her tits until he painted her chin and throat with thick ropes of cum. She made Wren lick every drop clean before the ink was even dry.

The rest of the harem was led out. Christina watched them go with a neutral face and a cunt still pulsing on her sissy’s tongue. When the door sealed she stood, dropped the robe, and pointed at the polished conference table.

“Both of you. Up here. Wren on her back. Josh, mount her. I want to ride that soft little tongue while you ruin the former CTO’s ass in the middle of their own boardroom.”

They obeyed instantly.

Josh sank his thick cock into Wren’s soft, well-used ass in one steady thrust. The new bimbo moaned high and happy, caged clitty jerking in its chrome prison. Christina swung a leg over, planted her dripping cunt on Wren’s open mouth, and started grinding in slow, filthy circles while Josh fucked the body underneath her. The observation glass stayed dark, but she knew they were watching. She came on her sissy’s tongue with a low, satisfied groan, felt Josh empty another heavy load into Wren’s ass, then made the locked bimbo clean both of them afterward—first Josh’s thick, messy cock, then her owner’s dripping cunt—while the executives’ shadows lingered behind the glass.

Later, in the wide executive suite they were given deeper in the facility, Christina locked a tighter cage around Wren’s little clitty, bent her newest possession over the massive bed, and watched Josh mount her again. She climbed up, sat on Wren’s face, and rode the soft, devoted tongue until her thighs shook, all while giving soft, filthy orders about tomorrow’s first corporate clients and which ones she planned to convert personally.

When the three of them finally collapsed into the huge bed—Josh’s heavy arm around her waist, Wren’s soft B-cups and locked cage pressed against her back—Christina smiled into the darkness of the place that now owned her on paper.

She had lost the house and most of the collection.

She had gained the entire machine.

And she still had her favorite thick cock and her favorite locked, vapid, bisexual sissy bimbo to keep her cunt wet while she built something even bigger.

Outside, BimboTech’s real empire never slept.

Inside, Christina pushed her ass back against her soft new property, felt Josh’s cock begin to harden again against her stomach, and fell asleep already planning which high-value targets she would turn first.

Warren’s syringe may have been an accidental bimbofication.

Everything that came after was deliberate, wet, and hot as fuck!