Late Bloomer
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Urinal Girls: Late Bloomer free porn video
Samantha took a long, ragged breath before stepping out onto the office floor. Once upon a time, she’d managed a team in this section of the building, strutting between cubicles in expensive blazers and smart skirts. Now she scurried down the hall naked from head to toe. Tits bobbing with every unsure step and every frightened glance. Pussy and legs immaculately shaved, no way to hide her shame-fueled arousal.
Samantha turned a corner. Two men in cubicles spotted her, laughing and clapping at her nudity. She swallowed hard, continuing past them with her head hung and her nipples taut, resisting every urge to cover herself. At least they weren’t former members of her team, she thought, though she knew that was only a momentary respite.
Samantha came to the two rows of cubicles where the people she’d once managed worked. They were all empty. Samantha didn’t allow herself a sigh of relief. She continued forward, feeling every fiber of carpet against her bare feet, feeling alien wandering her former workplace and place of pride in the nude, past the cubes and to the door of the meeting room on the building’s outer perimeter. The meeting room that was always reserved for the team’s weekly meeting.
Samantha stood before the door, heart pounding. She reached out her hand briefly, but hesitated. Once upon a time, she would have flung it open and immediately stepped in to take command. Now she teetered nervously from foot to foot, looking around for any excuse to be somewhere else, dreading what was to come.
Samantha closed her eyes and took another long, ragged breath. She emptied her mind as best she could, and before she could think about it she thrust out her hand and knocked on the door. When she opened her eyes, she was half-shocked that she had actually done it. That was it, then, she thought. She’d officially thrown herself to the wolves.
“Come in!” a cheerful-sounding and familiar man’s voice answered from within.
Samantha felt herself start to go numb as she opened the door and stepped inside.
A roomful of men immediately broke out into laughter, cheers, hollers and broad grins at the sight of her standing there buck naked, tits, ass and swollen cunt on full display in the meeting room she once presided over.
Samantha had never felt so humiliated. She recognized most of the men. Jacob, a clean-cut man and previously her unofficial number two and workplace confidant stood from his seat, whipped his phone out of his pocket and started snapping pictures. Several other men followed suit, laughing and joking and commenting on her body all the while.
“I knew always knew she had some top-tier tits, man!” someone said.
“Was she always such a slut? Look at her, she’s wet! She’s getting off on this!” another man said to a swell of guffaws.
“Bet you always dreamed of fucking that sweet little ass, huh, Jacob?” said Roberts, an overweight and balding engineer while her elbowed Jacob in the side. “Maybe now you’ll get your chance!”
“Now, now, gentlemen,” an unfamiliar gray-haired lady at the head of the table said, smiling. “As you may have noticed, we have a naked woman in the room. I’ve been informed that she was previously the team leader and direct report for most of you. She will no longer be filling that role. The company is looking both internally and externally for a replacement manager for you all. Now then,” she said, looking Samantha up and down, “I’m pleased to inform you that Samantha here has been thoroughly demoted and given a new position better suited to her abilities.”
The men cheered and clapped.
“Samantha, why don’t you tell these gentlemen your new title?”
Samantha bit her lip. She glanced across the room at the smiling, excited faces of her former employees, taking them in one by one while her stomach tied itself in knots. She cast her eyes down at her breasts. On the edge of tears, she forced out the words: “J-junior Urinal, ma’am. For the first floor West m-m-men’s room.”
There was a brief moment of silence before the room broke out into a frenzy of whoops and hollers and the heaviest laughs she’d heard all morning.
“Holy shit,” Jacob said, falling back in his chair and cracking up.
“Is this for real?” someone asked.
Another man nodded enthusiastically in response. “Hell yeah, it is!”
“She was a urinal girl this whole time?” asked Charles, a normally quiet and withdrawn programmer who sported thick glasses and a well-trimmed ginger beard and who Samantha had always scored highly on performance reviews. “Wish we’d known sooner! Maybe now her mouth will actually be useful for once!”
Samantha quivered. These men used to respect her. Or at least, she’d thought they had. Had they felt this way about her for the whole three years she’d been a manager? Maybe even before that?
The woman at the head of the table waited for a lull in the rabble before speaking again: “You gentlemen will be happy to know that I’ve booked Samantha for the full duration of this meeting.”
“Booked her?” Roberts asked.
“Yes,” the woman said, “all the urinal girls servicing the washrooms on premises are now available to be booked for meetings. The company hopes this will improve morale and attendance at meetings and minimize the need for anyone to step out to take a leak during long-hauls. There’s a new widget in Outlook to book urinal girls. The only stipulation is that you can’t book out all the girls who work in a particular men’s room at the same time, at least one needs to be in there for regular service. Most of the men’s rooms currently have two dedicated urinal girls. HR has already added a chapter to the online employee’s handbook with all the details. Anyway, that’s enough about that. Please take your spot in the corner back there, sweetheart, and let these gentlemen get back to work,” she said, gesturing.
“Yes, ma’am,” Samantha said haltingly.
She slowly walked the length of the room, feeling a dozen pairs of eyes on her. She couldn’t help but notice six large pitchers full of water on the table and a glass in front of each man. In the back corner of the room, next to the big bay window – on the first floor, where anyone passing by on the street could see inside – there was a bright blue mat on the floor. Samantha stepped onto it. It seemed to be some kind of space-age super-absorbent fiber sponge type thing. It seemed ready for a lot of use, Samantha thought.
Samantha turned back to face the men. Their eyes were all still on her. They were still making comments to each other, looking her up and down, appraising her like a piece of meat. Samantha got down on her knees. A few eyes widened. Men poked and prodded each other excitedly. Samantha’s training kicked in. She spread her thighs just so. She folded her hands behind her, straightened her back and thrust her breasts outward. She let her eyes lose focus until they looked dead, hazy. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth wide, as wide as she could sustain. The men began to laugh and joke anew. They took out their phones and snapped more pictures. Her transformation was complete. She was now a human urinal.
Somehow the meeting managed to get on track, moving on to matters of deadlines and software design. The men took copious sips of water, pouring glass after glass. Occasionally they glanced back at her and chuckled at the position she’d put herself in, sitting there so patiently with her mouth open, inviting them, almost begging them to use it. But for the most part they ignored her. Samantha’s mind began to wander, unable to focus on what anyone was saying, occupied with maintaining her pose.
She thought back in mild shock at how rapidly things had changed. It had only been a month ago that Samantha had chaired her last meeting in this room. Things would never be the same.
Urinal girls were a scientific enigma. As far as Samantha knew, it was a genetic condition. Some women – about 1 in 200 of the female population – were simply born to be urinated on. Everyone knew the signs, even if no one could quite explain them: perpetually pale skin, minimal-to-nonexistent gag reflex, and something about them – some inexplicable je ne sais quoi that clicked with a primordial part of men’s brains and said ‘this is where you go pee’, along with some equally primordial part of the urinal girl’s brain that made them sit there and take it.
Cave paintings had been found that seemed to be the earliest depiction of urinal girls. Some theorists speculated that it was an adaptation, something that had evolved in homo sapiens or their ancestors to give females a role and a survival advantage in early hunter-gatherer societies where death rates for males may have been sharply higher than for females. Urinal girls had always been there, in the background, being put to use but rarely making the history books. It was only in the last thirty years or so that it became socially acceptable to even talk about them publicly, let alone study them scientifically.
Most urinal girls ‘blossomed’ by the time they finished high school. Everyone knew of a young woman at their school whose life was derailed by a diagnosis. The possibility they’d grow up to be a urinal was common fodder for schoolyard taunts and – at least among girls without the greatest self-confidence, or possessing that common teenage neurosis – a lingering source of dread. By the time they graduated, most young women could justifiably breathe a sigh of relief and continue living their lives fearlessly. Being diagnosed as a urinal girl in adulthood was exceedingly rare. But it wasn’t impossible.
Samantha had gone in for a routine physical examination when she got the news. She was flabbergasted, at first. She was pushing thirty years old, it couldn’t happen. But the follow-up test confirmed it. She’d been a stealth urinal girl all her life. She simply hadn’t known it.
After that, nothing was the same. The doctor told her she’d inform Samantha’s employer and scheduled her for three weeks of therapy and training to acclimate her to her new life.
Something must have subtly changed about Samantha’s demeanor after that, because on her way home, sitting on the subway, feeling numb and still reeling from the shock, a man approached her, unzipped, and pissed all over her face, blouse and jeans for the first time in her life in front of six or seven total strangers. She hadn’t even known how to react. But she’d learn. Soon enough, she’d learn.
Samantha was pulled out of her reverie. She became aware of a figure in front of her. She glanced up and her eyes focused until she saw Jacob’s face looking down at her. Samantha’s cheeks flushed. She’d had a crush on him, once, but it didn’t pan out. I guess it figures he’d be the first, Samantha cursed to herself.
Behind him, men were snickering and tittering with glee. Jacob flashed his trademark charming smile. Then he unzipped, pulled out his flaccid penis and began aiming, hovering inches from Samantha’s wide open mouth.
There was a time Samantha would’ve dreamed of seeing Jacob’s penis, maybe even having it in her mouth, but not like this. It took Jacob an agonizingly long time to get ready. Samantha became acutely aware of his body, of every little slouch as he relaxed his posture, of every breath he took. Eventually, Jacob closed his eyes and let a tiny sigh flare out his nostrils. Samantha was confused for a moment. She was caught off guard when the first spray of piss hit her tongue.
Samantha’s eyes went wide. She quickly felt overwhelmed. The acrid taste against her tongue made her want to double over and spit it out, but she held steady. The smell of urine filled her nostrils as droplets aerosolized in her mouth. Samantha subtly maneuvered her head, angling herself to ensure she got as much as possible of the arc of Jacob’s pee into her mouth, just like she’d been taught. The liquid rapidly pooled around her tongue, threatening to spill out between her teeth, but she managed to start gulping back just enough to stop herself from overflowing, all without closing her mouth, continuing to accept all the piss that came her way.
Eventually, after what seemed like an unreasonably long time and an exhausting amount of work for her neck muscles, Jacob’s stream slowed to a trickle, and then stopped. Samantha reduced her frantic efforts, breathing heavily through her nostrils. Her mouth was still filled nearly to the brim with frothy yellow piss. Some of the men in the room, her former employees and a few new faces, came forward to take more pictures and to pat Jacob on the back.
“Everyone in the office needs to see this,” Charles said, attaching a pic he’d taken to an email and firing it off.
“Everyone in our foreign offices, too!” someone said, sounding almost giddy. “Ooh, some of our partner companies have guys who had to deal with her too, right? Make sure they see this!”
“Nicely done, man,” Roberts said with a chuckle and a hand on Jacob’s shoulder.
Jacob looked down at what he’d done, at what Samantha had become. Samantha’s mouth slowly drained, gulp by careful gulp. Jacob gave out a dry, disbelieving laugh. “Never thought I’d see the day,” he said. “I could get used to this.”
“How was it?” Roberts asked.
Jacob shook himself off over Samantha’s face. Tiny droplets stuck in her eyelashes. He wiped himself on her chin and finally put himself away. “Feels amazing, man,” he said. “You should try it.”
Roberts smirked. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, his eyes flickering.
Jacob stepped aside and ushered Roberts forward with a sweeping gesture.
Roberts took his place in front of Samantha and quickly produced his flaccid-yet-girthy dick. He looked down at Samantha and sneered. “Remember when she first joined our team? How she came in here and had the nerve to fight for that position I’d earned and steal it from me?” he said to no one in particular. “I dunno if getting to piss in her mouth every day will make up for that injustice, but it’s a start.” He took a moment to reach down and cup Samantha’s breast before getting into position.
When Roberts began the blast of urine was so strong and fast that Samantha nearly gagged. She went to work as best she could. Roberts’ piss tasted subtly different, heavier, darker. Was it a diet thing? Before she had time to put any more thought into that line of questioning Roberts changed things up, suddenly lifting his penis and changing his aim, pissing over her gaping mouth and onto her face. She closed her eyes reflexively. It got into her hair and up her nose. She struggled to adjust, to lift her head to match Roberts’ new trajectory, but he shifted again, this time aiming down and pissing on her tits. Eventually, she caught the stream in her mouth again – ‘where it belongs’, she thought bitterly. Droplets of urine streaked down the curves of her body, dripping down from her thighs and from the swollen lips of her cunt.
When Roberts was done he smeared his dick against her cheek, then put himself away and stepped aside. He was quickly replaced by another man.
Samantha recognized Walter, an older gentleman with short gray hair. She knew him as a doddering old man, not the hardest worker and not exactly on the ball, but only two years from retirement. Samantha had blocked efforts to replace him, allowing him to keep his position more out of kindness than anything the bean-counters upstairs would approve of.
Before he took out his wizened old dick, Walter looked down at Samantha, half in pity. “You must be none too bright to have ended up here, huh, little missy?”
Samantha blinked. She was starting to learn that misconceptions about urinal girls weren’t uncommon, especially among men. Men never had to worry about becoming one, they just used them, so it wasn’t too surprising. There wasn’t much to be gained by paying close attention to the circumstances of your urinal, after all.
Samantha thought back to her training. “Yes, sir,” she said. “I’m very stupid to have taken a position as a Junior Urinal, sir.” As a urinal girl, it was best to avoid making men agitated by disagreeing with them. A urinal girl was deferential, accommodating. It was just the way things were. “But the men who work here need somewhere to piss, and where better than in my mouth, sir?”
Walter scoffed. “Well, I suppose that’s right,” he said.
Samantha took what comfort she could from the fact that Walter’s was a slow trickle instead of an overwhelming gush like the previous men. But before Walter was even done, other men had begun lining up behind him.
The meeting was only an hour long, but it seemed to drag on forever. Swallowing load after load of hot, acrid piss took almost all her attention and overwhelmed her senses every time. But she still found moments to tune out and let her mind wander. She thought back to how she’d joined the company and worked her way up. Further back, graduating from high school with honors, a full load of AP courses. Moving on to 4 years of college, a degree in Computer Science with a Minor in Women’s Studies. Her intelligence and her way with words had always been her greatest asset. And it wasn’t her life’s devotion or anything, but she’d always considered herself a feminist. Now here she was, on her knees, staring off into space dead eyed while men lined up to piss in her mouth, gulping down every drop without an ounce of self-respect, agreeing with every belittling comment they made about her. Was this going to be her life from now on?
Charles was having trouble getting the last few spritz of pee out into Samantha’s mouth. He was starting to get hard. Charles looked around, unsure of what to do with himself. One of the other men sitting at the table looked back and saw what was going on, but he just laughed and turned back to the task at hand.
If Charles thought he was having an awkward moment, he should try it from my position, Samantha thought, sitting there with her mouth open while Charles got harder and harder.
Inevitably, Charles began stroking himself, his erection pulsating inches from Samantha’s face.
Samantha didn’t know what to do. Her training hadn’t covered this. Was she supposed to help? She stank of piss all over by this point, did that turn him on? Ultimately, Samantha reasoned that a real urinal – the porcelain kind – would just sit there and take whatever came its way, so she did nothing, opting instead to stoically if awkwardly sit there and wait while Charles beat himself off right in front of her.
Of course, when Charles came he decided to cum on her face like a pornstar instead of in her mouth like she’d been hoping. A big shiny white glob of sperm landed on the side of her nose and was soon joined nearby by a few smaller siblings. They all slowly began to roll down her cheek. Charles smeared a small trail of cum across the width of her chin to finish up.
The other men in the room took note of Charles’ moans and jerky motions before he finished. There was some dry laughter and knowing smirks. A few men rose from their seats to admire Charles’ handiwork.
“Uhh, I hope that’s okay to do during a meeting,” Charles said.
Roberts chuckled. “Hell, why not? Urinal girls are made for that stuff.”
Samantha could hear the wheels turning across the room. The precedent had been set.
*
As the final minutes of the hour-long meeting drew to a close, the last man gave out a guttural cry and deposited a load of cum across Samantha’s forehead in four spurts. Every single man at the meeting had cum on her face. She was a total mess, only just barely able to open one of her eyes. Hundreds of pictures had been taken by then, of course, but a few stragglers took the time to snap a few more before high-fiving and shuffling out of the room.
Samantha was in a daze, still sitting on her knees, maintaining her urinal position as best she could, reeking of piss and cum.
A new group – mostly men, but a few women too – started to file into the meeting room, looking at her cum-glazed face and naked body with fresh shock and laughter. Her allotted time here was over. She needed to get back to the men’s room where she was supposed to be stationed.
Samantha staggered to her feet, bracing herself against the wall. Her legs felt sore. Her whole body felt sore. She took a tentative step and almost reeled from the way piss sloshed around her bloated stomach. She became aware that she needed to pee, badly. She had a strong urge to squat down and piss on the mat below her, but she remembered her training: no one was to see her empty her bladder if she could possibly avoid it. As far as the public was to be concerned, she had a bottomless capacity for piss.
Samantha mustered everything she could and pressed on, half-blind, barely able to walk straight, her stomach and bladder protesting with every step. A long string of sperm dripped off her cheek and onto one of her tits, landing just shy of her nipple. Another dollop fell to the floor. There was no helping it. The only thing that mattered now was making it back to the men’s room.
The office was busier now, bustling with activity, the morning well and truly in full swing. More and more men and women saw her in person for the first time since her diagnosis and reacted in their various ways, whether it be amusement, shock, disgust, or snide comments which she was obligated to stop and agree with. She shambled past cubicle after cubicle, feeling her way forward with her hands outstretched like a naked zombie blowing cum bubbles from her nose.
As she turned a corner, Samantha nearly ran into a man with a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Woah!” the man said. “Hey there, fuckface.”
Samantha wanted nothing more than to press on, but she forced herself to stop. “Hello, sir.”
“You know, I feel like I’ve seen you around here before. That’s a new look for you, isn’t it?”
“Yes sir. I found out I’m a urinal girl. I started my new position on the urinal girl team today, sir. I’m much better qualified for this position than I was for my old job, sir.” Samantha felt a burp bubble up from her stomach as she finished talking, but she managed to hold it in. The taste of urine filled her mouth and nostrils anew.
“Hmm, I see,” the man said, loudly taking a sip of his coffee. Samantha thought he might leave it at that, but it was not to be. “You know, I’m not an expert or anything, but aren’t urinals supposed to take it in the mouth?”
Ideally, men would use her mouth to avoid making a mess in public places. But there weren’t any real rules about it. Men could use urinal girls how they liked. It’s not like she had any say where men went on her body, in any case. Another misconception.
“Ideally, sir.” Another long string of sperm slowly dripped down from Samantha’s cheek.
“Well, then why is your face such a mess, pray tell?”
Samantha thought for a moment. “I must have been too stupid to get it in my mouth, sir. I’ll do better next time, sir.”
“Mm, sounds about right. See that you do.” The man took another sip. “Say, where do they have you working now, anyway?”
“First floor men’s room in the West wing of the building, sir.”
“Great. Well, when this coffee finishes working its way through my system, I’ll come pay you a visit. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little slut?”
Samantha wanted to grimace, but she forced herself to smile – to the extent that she could given the circumstances, anyway. “Yes, sir. I can’t wait to receive your piss in my mouth, sir. Thank you, sir.”
With that, the man left for his cubicle. Samantha continued on, her bladder all but screaming at her to hurry.
It occurred to Samantha how far she’d fallen. All of the men she’d formerly led, the men she thought respected her, had just pissed in her mouth, covered her face in cum and left her to fend for herself, wandering naked around the office. No one stopped to help her. No one asked her what happened.
Samantha was utterly alone, utterly humiliated, utterly ashamed, utterly dehumanized. And the worst, most shameful part of it all: thinking about it was making her wet. She wanted to cum. She wanted to be fucked. She wanted a man, any man, to come bend her over, put his cock inside her and fuck her senseless, even if it meant she’d piss herself in the process. But, for now at least, it was not to be. Her holes were made for piss and cum, yes, but they were only for men’s pleasure. No one took the time to make sure a urinal girl got off, no matter how desperately she wanted it.
Samantha eventually made it to the men’s room. She was spared the uneasy look on the face of the other urinal girl who worked there, her eyelids still weighed down by rapidly drying cum. Samantha hadn’t even thought about how she was going to clean it off. The sink proved ineffective. Eventually, she settled for dunking her face into one of the porcelain toilets and scrubbing off what she could with her bare hands.
It didn’t even occur to her to use the same toilet to relieve her achingly full bladder. Instead, she squatted over one of the drains in the floor. It took several false starts for her to get it out – every time she heard footsteps out in the common hallway that led to the washrooms, she had to abandon her attempt in case a man walked in. In a couple of cases, men did walk in, and Samantha was obliged to serve one of them, assuming the position as she had before. Despite the soreness of her body, the urinal position began to feel more and more natural, relaxing even. Eventually, though, she was able to relieve her poor bladder, and the relief felt sweet. She savored it while she could. It might be the only thing she had to look forward to any more.
Eventually, Samantha’s eyes wandered to an old analog clock on the men’s room wall.
It was 11 AM. Samantha’s first day as a urinal girl for Civil Software was officially one quarter of the way done.
Becky
- 03.10.2021
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