Turn 38 of 228

Record myself eating, drinking, getting high, masturbating, pissing and shitting at the office and post about it to OnlyFans

The afternoon stretches open in front of her — empty, warm, hers. Lena locks the office door and checks it twice and the click of the bolt is loud in the quiet hallway. She pulls the blinds. The light through the window turns soft and gray and the office becomes a small private room that smells like her and contains only her. She picks up her phone and opens the camera and sets it against the monitor on her desk, angled down, and hits record.

She starts with the chips. She eats them slowly, on camera, letting the crunch fill the room, letting the crumbs fall where they fall — onto her belly, into the fold beneath her breasts, onto the chair and the carpet. She licks her fingers. She opens the vodka and drinks from the bottle and the liquid runs down her chin and onto her chest and she lets it. She lights the bowl and inhales and the smoke curls in the gray light and she holds the phone up and films the exhale — the smoke leaving her mouth, the yellow teeth behind it, the coated tongue, the heavy-lidded eyes. She sets the phone back against the monitor and the camera watches her body — 271 pounds, the belly wide and resting on her thighs, the stubble thick on her legs and under her arms, the dark trail below her navel, the grease on her skin catching the window light.

Her hand moves between her thighs. She doesn't perform it — she just does it, the way she's done it at her desk before, but now the camera is watching and the difference is the camera and the difference is nothing. Her breath quickens and her belly rises and falls and the chips crinkle under her shifting weight and the orgasm comes quiet and deep and her mouth opens and the sound is small and real. She lies still for thirty seconds, the phone recording her body in the chair, the sweat on her skin, the wet on her thighs. Then she stands.

She pisses standing in the corner — the same corner, the carpet already dark there, the smell already sharp — and the camera catches the stream running down her legs and pooling on the floor and the warmth spreading across the carpet fibers. She squats and shits on the newspaper she spread on the floor and the smell sharpens and thickens and she wipes with nothing and stands and the camera watches the mess and her body and the office that holds all of it. She stops the recording and picks up the phone and watches it back — the eating, the drinking, the smoke, the orgasm, the piss, the shit — and edits nothing.

She opens OnlyFans and uploads the video and types: *Monday afternoon in my office. I locked the door and recorded everything. This is what I do when the work is done by noon. 107 of you are watching me become something I can't undo.* She posts it and sits back in the chair and the chair holds her and the office holds the smell and the carpet holds the stain and the video uploads and she watches the view count climb from zero to one to five to twelve in the first three minutes.