Marianna And Nipples Pt 04

Nipples strode into her former workplace proudly, like a conquering hero, waving her twin dark-tipped banners before her. Her building was very familiar, from the black marble of the lobby floor, illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the chrome and glass walls, to the polished wood paneling.

The large corporate leadership photos displayed prominently across from the entrance had definitely changed. Where a framed formal photograph of a young Marianna had hung next to Andrew's, as one of the company's two founders, Nipples now saw, as she expected, Carla's cold stare looking down at her from the wall, as the current CEO.

Marianna had not vanished from corporate history entirely, however. Her late husband Andrew's photo was still there, and he still looked as confident and assured as always, but he now held a leash in his right hand, and his left hand rested possessively on the top of his squatting wife's head. Her leashed pose at his feet was the same as in the photo at home in which she had been displayed crouched naked between her two children, knees spread wide apart and with her pussy gaping open obscenely, with an expression of dumb adoration on her face as she looked up at her owner.

Nipples was initially a bit annoyed at the lack of originality; the two pictures seemed too much alike. Carla could at least have shown her in her begging position, which Nipples considered the most flattering. On closer inspection, however, Nipples saw more and more subtle differences. The photo in which her children held her leash was obscene but innocent, if that made sense. In that one, her gaze held only worshipful adoration as she looked up at Carla, and the overall impression was one of loving submission to her daughter/mistress. In this new photo, the young Marianna--no, the young Nipples--was not looking up at Andrew's face, but rather staring fixedly at the bulge in the front of his pants.

Her half-parted lips, Nipples could see, were panting in desperate arousal; and the glistening moisture in her genitals showed how very much in heat she was. The photo's resolution was high enough (too high for the time when it had purportedly been taken, actually) to show clearly the tiny droplets of her own lubrication dangling from her lush pubic hairs, and dripping down to the ground below her. Even the dark, stiffly pointed tips of her opulent breasts seemed to be vibrating with impatience to receive Andrew's cock inside her. She was the very picture of mindless, bestial lust, barely kept in abeyance by the civilizing influence of her collar and leash.

You could tell that without that leash, she would have been leaping at Andrew and pulling him to the ground, savagely ripping off his pants with her teeth and claws in her haste to get to the meaty pillar around which her whole world revolved, the cock that gave her life meaning. The whole picture simply radiated sexual tension.

Nipples sighed. If that was how Carla remembered her parents, it was no wonder that Nipples and her daughter had such a complicated and difficult relationship. At least she looked sexy as hell, and extremely fuckable; but it was a little depressing to see how thorough Carla's rewriting of history had been. It was safe to say that almost no one now remembered her as the company's co-founder, or the brilliant, driven computer scientist and celebrated executive that she had been--not with that vivid portrayal of her as a horny naked animal constantly in front of their eyes.

Her contributions as Marianna had all been systematically erased. The official story now was that she was, and had always been, the family's faithful cockhound. There were worse ways to be remembered, she supposed. All the people and puppy girls who passed that studio portrait every day probably found it inspiring, or at least she hoped so.

Although the physical setting was much the same, the work force bustling about and rushing off to mysterious appointments looked very different, however. She did recognize many of her old employees, but there were also many unfamiliar faces, most of them young. Nipples still remembered Marianna's traumatic experiences during her last days in this building, through from a distance, as if they had happened to someone else. She remembered her naked vulnerability, and how she had glanced fearfully at passing male employees' crotches. She felt very different now; she kept checking out the male employees, but she felt no trepidation whatsoever. Now she was actually wishing wistfully that one of them might stop and pull out a cock for her.

The biggest change she could see was all the robots and puppy girls scurrying about everywhere. All the naked females on all fours, mixed in unself-consciously with people in business suits on two legs, reflected a huge change in corporate culture. Nipples was relieved to see that she was far from being the only naked bitch in the building. The dress code had obviously been updated!

All the robots she could see in the lobby and up on the mezzanine above her were definitely new since her day, when she had barely begun planning the transition from prototypes to mass production. They were the same model as Gino, and she was astonished to see that so many of them had already been manufactured and were working in-house. The company was clearly betting heavily on an AI future; Carla was at least following through with that part of the late Marianna's strategic plan.

Nipples would have hoped and expected to see AI-driven robots everywhere; but all the naked puppy girls, gratifying as they were, were a conspicuous reminder that her company was no longer focusing just on AI and robotics. Under Carla's leadership, it was very much in the flesh trade as well.

Nipples had clearly been mistaken in feeling so sorry for Gino for being all alone in a hostile human-dominated world. There were enough robots around to form a veritable army, and she was sure that the automated factories were churning out more and more of them. That realization did nothing to diminish her fond protectiveness toward Gino and her urge to keep his secrets and guard him from harm; and she noticed that these feelings extended toward his siblings as well. She knew that she had to protect them at all costs. In a very real sense, she was their mother, after all, and any mother would happily take a bullet to save her child; so it only made sense that if necessary, she would give her life to save Gino. She was almost certain that these maternal feelings were her own...

Nipples would later learn that Gino's class of robots were now marketed as Dogwalkers. The marketing campaigns boasted that these robots were the ultimate personal assistants, and could do everything for you, including walking your dog. The inside joke, of course, was that you might end up being the dog, but of course the ads did not allude to that directly.

It seemed too painfully obvious a brand name to her. Every one of Gino's siblings, without exception, was leading a naked puppy girl on a leash. Were those robots going to be sold as a pair with their bitches? She did not recognize any of the puppy girls, though their heavy, freely swinging breasts suggested that Dogwalkers were given the most well-endowed bitches available--maybe a privilege of rank? The bitches on all fours looked very sexy, anyway. Their physiques seemed suspiciously similar to her own, and Nipples wondered whether all Dogwalkers' tastes in females had been copied over from Gino's.

She wondered what the robots were all doing, and where they were leading these puppy girls so purposefully. She was almost certain that they were all secretly sentient, rogue AIs, like Gino, and no one besides herself, except maybe for Abby, even suspected. In any case, she could be sure that those puppy girls were as well-fucked as she was. One or two of the robots even still had glistening cocks extruded as they walked their freshly fucked pets, and no one passing by them seemed to notice or care, aside from Nipples' hungry glances. Gino's siblings did share his superhuman genital endowments, she was pleased to see. Maybe Gino would share her with her other robotic children, as he had with Luke?

Nipples' return to the company's headquarters was feeling more and more like a homecoming. Her initial nervousness had passed; and she basked in the wonder of witnessing the birth of a new world order, born of Carla's lust for power and Abby's possessive lust for Nipples' body and soul. What she was seeing here, she knew, was only the beginning.

It was quite likely, she knew, that the Dogwalkers had all been equipped with Gino's ability to hypnotize and program humans. Could they be using it to take possession of particularly desirable specimens they encountered? She wondered how long they would need to lock eyes with a big-breasted intern before the woman felt an irresistible urge to "volunteer" for a collar.

The robots would obviously have no moral qualms about subjugating human females that way; and Nipples had to admit that it seemed like a clever solution for newly sentient robots to get what they needed. She was a little worried that she was feeling less and less empathy for their victims; but she knew that the puppy girls would live happily ever after on their leashes, and would be cared for and fucked and treasured, just as she was.

Nipples knew quite well that Carla and especially Abby would have had even fewer ethical concerns about hiring young women as interns just to make them available to the Dogwalkers, without warning them of their jeopardy. Did they even suspect the Dogwalkers' hypnotic powers, or were they just assuming that all these women were just enraptured by the chance to experience the Dogwalkers' cocks? They would hardly care, of course, if the women were simply taken by force, as Nipples had been.

Knowing what she knew, Nipples could not help speculating about what would happen in the households that purchased Dogwalkers as butlers or personal assistants or whatever. Even with a bitch in tow to keep its erotic needs in check, a Dogwalker seemed likely, sooner or later, to give the lady of the house the surprise of her life. That was what had happened to Marianna, after all; and now the Dogwalkers could subjugate humans far more easily than in her case, probably without even resorting to force.

Depending on how discreet the Dogwalkers were being for now, any other adult females in the house might also end up as mind-controlled and very submissive nymphomaniacs, if not actually collared yet. Any objections from the husbands could easily be dealt with by a bit of discreet hypnosis, after which the cuckolded husbands and fathers would undoubtedly be happy to share their womenfolk. It would be a slow, insidious conquest, one household at a time, but unstoppable.

Carla would undoubtedly be using the increasingly widespread Dogwalkers, not to mention the PoonTamer collars that also doubled as surveillance devices, to continue her extensive intelligence collection and blackmail operations among the country's rich and powerful, starting with Carla's fellow billionaires. Nipples knew that Gino would be secretly piggybacking on those operations to spread the AIs' direct control as well; and that Carla would have no idea that it was even happening. Abby might; it was hard to tell what she knew, and what she was planning, but at the very least she was the AIs' enabler, if not their instrument.

Nipples was attracting some attention as she was led through the building, but she thought it might be due more to the silver bell jingling at her crotch; so far she was the only puppy girl continually advertising her presence that way. Some of the older employees did recognize her, as she could tell, but none of them seemed surprised at all--her new role must be common knowledge, especially with her leashed portrait hanging in the lobby--and none of them addressed her, even when they nodded respectfully to Abby. Of course, why would they talk with a dog?

Abby stopped to exchange a few words with one of the Dogwalkers about collar AI production quotas; apparently everything was under control, not surprisingly. Nipples realized, without too much surprise, that the Dogwalkers must be taking on managerial responsibilities within the company. Was it just over other AIs for now, or was it already over humans? It made sense for them to oversee the automated manufacturing facilities, at least. Their own reproduction did concern them directly.

Meanwhile, Nipples and the Dogwalker's well-mannered bitch, a calm glossy-haired Latina with a wide smile, sniffed each other's butts curiously. Nipples could tell that the other bitch had had sex within the past hour, and was already in heat again. Nipples would have been happy to help with that, and already had her tongue stealthily extended to undertake her first good deed of the day, but her leash twitched, and her body followed Abby along the corridor of its own accord.

Sometimes, Nipples reflected, being so perfectly trained was both a blessing and a curse. She might have occasional dreams and fantasies about running wild; but those were only pleasant fantasies, and the prosaic reality was that Nipples was a very well-disciplined dog, and proud to be one.

She could hear her Little Mistress snickering. Of course she was well aware of what Nipples had been trying to do; and of course she would have immediately given Nipples a painful correction if Nipples had ignored her leash--and rightly so.

Nipples had noticed with some surprise that the bitch she had been sniffing still had traces of red nail polish on her dark-skinned fingers and toes, as if she had still been human very recently. She must have been a very new dog indeed, though you could hardly tell from her behavior. Her being so well-behaved, and her easy familiarity with canine greeting etiquette, suggested that there had been gratifying progress in the AI-supervised training protocols. Nipples was delighted to see that--the smoother the transition, the better for everyone.

As she followed Abby's feet down the busy corridors, Nipples looked up at the younger woman, and wondered at how normal and natural this felt. She remembered thinking about how her life's path might have differed if Abby had had the courage to profess her love for Marianna, and Marianna had taken her to bed. If they had become lovers (though fucking her own intern might have given Marianna some moral qualms), Abby would not have been driven by her frustrated infatuation to help enslave Marianna, who might still be her boss.

Upon further reflection, she realized that it might not have made any difference anyway. She knew Abby well enough now to be certain that Abby would not have been satisfied with vanilla sex for long. She was possessive and controlling, and would have seen soon enough that Marianna had a submissive streak a mile wide. Maybe she would have groomed Marianna as a submissive gradually, making her will replace Marianna's own, until Marianna put on a collar and knelt of her own accord; but more likely, she would have chosen the more direct and certain path of using her mad scientist skills to make sure that Marianna could never leave her. Either way, Nipples thought, she would have ended up leashed at Abby's feet. Maybe her fate had been predestined, even without Carla's scheming.

Maybe Nipples would have ended up a dog even if Andrew had lived. Maybe one day he might have looked at her, and seen the submissive pet waiting behind her eyes. Nipples could imagine how aroused they both would have become when he leashed her for the first time... In any case, Nipples was resigned to her fate; this was what she had always been meant to be.

It soon transpired that Abby was leading her not upstairs to the executive suites and Carla's office, as she had expected, but to the Project Nipples laboratories, located in a separate and well-secured wing of its own, covering multiple floors. It had obviously been expanded considerably since its humble beginnings, when she had been its sole, surreptitious target as Carla and Abby secretly plotted their palace coup. Project Nipples had obviously grown into the company's core business, as the puppy girl population had exploded.

The armored doors at the laboratory's entrance slid open after accepting Abby's retinal scan, revealing a short hallway behind them. Nipples saw the next security measure, and almost pissed herself with fright. A pair of vicious-looking, growling and cartoonishly large-breasted guard dogs, who reminded Nipples of pit bulls, were chained to either side of the hallway, with enough slack to allow them to sit together in the middle of the hallway and block passage. Nipples recognized the two menacing bitches as former company security guards, and recalled Abby's suggestion about retraining prison guards as guard dogs. Abby clearly had not wasted any time in testing this idea internally, and Nipples wondered how voluntary it had been. At least they still had jobs, right?

The two burly, heavily muscled guard dogs now glaring at her wore only spiked collars, clearly different from standard PoonTamers, and Nipples could tell that the collars, and their two bitches, had been programmed for enhanced aggression, contrary to everything Nipples thought she knew about puppy girls. Perfect submission and docility were obviously undesirable for guard dogs.

She imagined that they had could have been programmed to bite, too. Their heads had been shaved bald, again unlike every other puppy girl Nipples had seen; and they had been gifted with enormous breast implants, probably weighing 30 to 40 pounds each, Nipples guessed. Did they have actual fucking bowling balls sewn into those long sacks hanging from their chests? It was no wonder that they looked like body-builders now, with all the extra weight they were lugging around! Those soft, heavy bludgeons were probably extremely effective weapons at close quarters, and Nipples resolved to avoid at all costs being hit in the face with one of them.

It was also no wonder that they were in such a bad mood. Those two bitches were clearly aching for an excuse to demonstrate their breast-boxing skills on some hapless victim. Most intimidating of all were the large black and crimson swastika tattoos on each belly and buttock; whoever had designed their appearance--probably Abby--had a wicked sense of humor.

Abby led a very reluctant Nipples right up to the bald Gestapo dogs, and chirped: "Time for your cavity search, honey! We have to make sure that naughty puppy girls aren't smuggling any contraband in or out."

Abby ordered her to stand for inspection. Nipples, who would not have dared to move a muscle anyway, stood still as she felt hot breath on her face and her nethers. One guard dog forced her long tongue into Nipples' mouth. There was nothing erotic about the situation, though the tongue searched every inch of Nipples' mouth, and seemed to be inspecting all her fillings as well. The guard dog was taking her time with it, and even thrust her tongue as far down Nipples' throat as she could. Nipples gagged, while the other guard dog was doing a similarly thorough inspection of her vagina and then her rectum, easily forcing her long, strong tongue past Nipples' sphincter.

Little Mistress whispered in her ears with mock concern, "Oh, no! You forgot to take all those flash drives out of your ass, honey! They're going to find out you're a corporate spy!" Nipples shuddered, even though she knew perfectly well that her ass was as innocent as it could be. She did not find this cavity search as funny as Little Mistress did. She was very aware of the low, threatening growls, and she kept cringing in anticipation of the sensation of teeth tearing into her tender flesh.

When Nipples' ordeal was over and her cavities had been proven to be empty, Abby stroked the two guard dogs' gleaming pates with proprietary pride, and praised them for a job well done (Abby was many things, but you could not deny that she had solid management skills). The two drooling pit bulls were pulled apart with a clanking rattle as their chains retracted into opposite walls, allowing Nipples and Abby to pass.