Titcage (Chapter 3)

Chapter 3
THE TOILET

Around 11 am Claire felt thirsty. She had been working all day, and felt flushed and overheated from blushing so much at what she was looking at. She looked around and spotted a cool, inviting water cooler across the room. She got up and headed towards it.

‘Psst!’ said a voice. Claire turned and saw a thin, pretty long-haired teenaged blonde looking at her. The girl had an elfin, friendly face, a short wrap skirt and a button up shirt knotted under her medium-sized tits. Her tag identified her as Kitten, and according to her ID she was a B-grade fuck.

Kitten made a no-go motion towards the water cooler, crossing her hands across each other. ‘That one’s for the men,’ said Kitten. ‘We drink from the cordial.’ She pointed to another cooler, filled with red liquid.

‘Thanks!’ said Claire. She thought the prohibition was strange, but she liked the look of Kitten – she seemed friendly – and she appreciated the advice. She headed to the cordial cooler and poured off a plastic cup full of the liquid. It tasted strange, she discovered, but thick and sweet. Claire drank it all and then poured another cup to take back to her desk. As she watched, she was aware of all the men in the room watching her – or, more specifically, watching her tits. She blushed and sat back down, ready to describe the next naked whore the system offered up.

The cordial worked its way through Claire’s system, as she stared at a succession of embarrassing photos of naked sluts. About 90 minutes after she’d drunk the cordial, she became aware of a growing pressure in her bladder, and realised she needed to pee. It was almost lunchtime anyway, but she needed to go now, so she got up and headed for the toilets.

The toilet doors opened directly onto the open plan office, and were marked with the usual male and female signs, but the text was unusual. They read “girls” and “people”. Claire didn’t like the implication that girls weren’t people, but she entered the “girls” door anyway.

The room inside was a cool, and gently lit. Claire was immensely confused by it. It didn’t look like the toilets she’d expected. There were no stalls and no wash basins – just a large tiled room with a low bench at one end and some shower-style hoses and small indentations in the wall at the other. She turned around and left again.

She spotted Kitten’s desk nearby. ‘Hey,’ she said to Kitten, walking over to the girl. ‘Where are the toilets?’

‘Through there,’ said Kitten, pointing at the door Claire had just used.

‘No, that’s the showers,’ said Claire, whispering.