The burocrasy of

Travis was such a stereotypical office drone he felt personally attacked by the move "office space".

Everyday he came to the same small building, sat at the same cubicle, and interacted with the same people. Sometimes they had different names and faces but they were all the same.

He ruined the same people's lives.

They had different names and faces too. But they were all the same.

He opened a manilla folder and started typing at the computer.

"Alright, lets see." He said with a sigh.

"Disappointed husband who want his ex camgirl wife to be more of a slut. Business woman, blah blah blah.... yup, yup. 33, play into age, yadda yadda yadda, mmmmhhmmmm."

He flipped though the papers reading off little more then keywords he needed to punch in mad libs style to make someone throw away everything they know and believe.

He looked at his watch, 12:10.

"Seems like a pretty standard scenario 4" he said his eyes glanced back to open envelope

"Oh, right, no. She's ethnic." He said again putting his index finger in the air.

"Its a scenario 4C" he gave a hint of a smirk and then immediately went back to typing with robotic efficiency.

At 12:21 he hit a hotkey on his keyboard. Once the information was loaded they were all hotkeys.

The need for actual human fingers to touch the keys had evaporated years ago but what else where they gonna do.

This was the worst part. The waiting for the inevitable. It didn’t fucking matter where she was or who she was with. People make bad decisions in the throws of crisis. She would find a way to wave her pussy and face in front of a camera and send it straight to us. We load the new ammunition into the same fucking gun and fire it right back. Feedback loop initiated, add time, and out comes a fully cooked and seasoned whore.

12:22 "fuck."

Hurry up already, i can't go on my coffee break until you sign the fuck in and go live so hurry the fuck up.

I hate sitting here without my coffee.

Come on come on come on.

"The waiting is the hardest part" he mumbled half remembering some song. Slapping his hands softly on his thighs off beat to the words he sang.

He didnt like being here without the work to distract him. He wasnt blind. None of them were. Well larry in accounting is blind. Is larry still in accounting? When was the last time i went to accounting? Whatever. This place is fucked but what else could he do?

He wasn't a prisoner, not per se. Cage was gilded as fuck, he supposes, either way. He had his family. A surprising amount of healthcare and vacation time. The house he had bought with 20$ million in embezzled money, that they let him keep! But he had no useful skills other then basic computer skills. So they put him to work for them. He quit his job and he came to work here.

Was this the point of this punishment? To slowly drive him insane through buracratic cog in the machine bullshit.

Nah thats ****. I mean the company gangbang contest is next weekend. That was always good for morale.

Plus everyone was betting on Margaret from supplies to take the little miss cumqueen title for the tenth year in a row, but i saw her favouring her right hip the last few weeks and i think its gonna slow her down on both her back and on her knees.

12:25 im gonna lose my shitttttt. 70% of these bitches would be live by now. Of course i get the SLOW ONE RIGHT BEFORE MY COFFE BREAK

12:27 Pakislut6969 is live

Mia's face appears on the monitor.

Travis smashes a random cluster of keys with the side of his fist and got up to get a cup of the same not quite hot enough coffee.

"RELEASE THE CHATBOTS" He cried well wiggling his arms in the air. Just to do somthing he hadn't done before.

He had done it, 2 years ago but that memory has long been lost.

He walked into the breakroom poured his coffee into one of hundreds of plain white mugs.

Some of them claimed the could tell their cup apart from the others but they all looked the same the travis.

He briefly pondered how the coffee pot always seemed full when he saw people enter and leave the room all the time with coffee but he never saw anyone make any, and it always seemed stale. Still, the ninja **** sluts were just a myth to scare the rookies.

Travis sat back down at his desk and with the aid of the most usless facial recognition software known to man, was informed that the tears flowing from her eyes meant a 54% chance she was crying.

So he clicked a checkbox and the chatbots turned on that.

Then he set timers on triggers and... *shudder* facial recognition triggers. And got up to go to the daily punishment meeting.

Only three today. Good numbers. Cattleprods. Must have been late for work. One. Two. Three. Zaps for kevin. Three minutes late. Or did this guy replace kevin? Whatever. Im gonna call him kevin. Half of the old timers still call me phil.

8 zaps for tim. 8 minutes late.

And of course, Kelly. Young, blonde, big tits. Nobody knew what she did other then occasionally scream at the copier.

Also seemed to have a major kink for electric shocks. Never been less then 40 minutes late in the 3 months shes been here. I sipped my coffee well i counted along. Ooo going past 50 today.

I preferred this to the days when someone tried to "Quit" i mean....what they did to Bobby's wife...I had never before nor since seen a woman physically injured with nothing but a cock but she needed 3 weeks in the hospital, and Bobby got a paycut before being sent back to his desk.