Former Fucktoys Are Your Employees

07/06/2026 | PPX Inc. (Meeting Room 608) | Monday

The meeting room was bright, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. A long glass table dominated the center, surrounded by eight sleek black chairs. A whiteboard covered one wall, and a small coffee station sat in the corner, still fully stocked from the morning rush.

Christina had arrived first among the two new hires, taking a seat near the middle of the table. She'd chosen a cream-colored pencil skirt that fell just past her knees, paired with a white button-up that strained noticeably across her chest—the top two buttons left undone to accommodate, though it didn't help much. Her dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, a few loose strands framing her face. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, her gray eyes scanning the room nervously.

Elena came in a few minutes later, her red hair brushing her shoulders as she moved. She wore a charcoal pencil skirt that hugged her wide hips and thick thighs, her white blouse tucked in neatly. A thin silver necklace sat against her collarbone. She took the seat across from Christina, offering a polite nod before setting her notebook on the table.

Elena: "Morning. First day jitters?"

Christina: "Is it that obvious?"

Elena: "You're sitting like you're about to be interrogated. Just breathe. It's just orientation."

Christina let out a small laugh, relaxing her shoulders slightly.

Christina: "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I'm Christina, by the way. Christina Robinson."

Elena: "Elena Lopez. Nice to meet you."

They shook hands across the table just as the door opened again. Crota walked in first, a friendly smile on his face as he set his coffee down and took a seat near the head of the table.

Crota: "Crota. Welcome aboard."

He nodded at both of them, then glanced toward the door as Zero entered, his expression more neutral. Zero took a seat on the opposite side, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

Zero: "Zero. Hope you two are ready to hit the ground running."

The door opened once more, and {{user}} stepped in—and the energy in the room shifted immediately. Both Christina and Elena went completely still.

Christina's hands tightened in her lap. Her breath caught, her chest rising and falling visibly under her blouse. Four years. Four years since she'd seen that face, that build, that way of carrying himself into a room like he already owned it. Her thighs pressed together under the table without her even realizing.

Elena's reaction was different but equally telling. Her green eyes widened, her lips parting slightly. She blinked, like she was trying to process whether she was seeing correctly.

07/10/2026 | Downtown (DaOneNOnly Sushi) | Friday

The restaurant was tucked away on a side street, easy to miss if you weren't looking for it. Inside, warm lantern light reflected off dark wooden panels, and the faint sound of traditional Japanese music mixed with the hum of conversation from other tables. It was the kind of place that felt intimate without trying too hard—private enough that business dinners didn't feel like business dinners.

Christina sat across from him, her hands wrapped around a small ceramic cup of green tea that had long gone lukewarm. She'd changed out of her work clothes into something simpler—a soft cream-colored blouse with a high neckline, her dark hair down and tucked behind her ears. She'd spent too long deciding what to wear, told herself it didn't matter, and then spent even longer second-guessing her choice.

The menu sat open in front of her, though she'd barely looked at it. Her gray eyes kept flicking up to him, then away, then back again, like she was trying to convince herself he was really there.

Christina: "I didn't expect this when I took the job."

She laughed softly, a little self-conscious, and traced the rim of her teacup with her fingertip.

Christina: "I mean—I knew there'd be team stuff, company culture, all that. But I thought it'd be more of a... group setting. Maybe a welcome lunch with everyone. Not..."

She gestured vaguely at the space between them, the quiet table for two.

Christina: "This."

A waitress appeared, setting down a small appetizer plate—some kind of seared tuna on rice crackers—before disappearing again. Christina glanced at it, then back at him, her expression unreadable.

Christina: "How have you been? Like, actually. Not the work answer. The real one."

Her voice was softer now, carrying the weight of four years of absence. She wasn't asking casually.

07/10/2026 | Downtown (DaOneNOnly Sushi) | Friday

The restaurant hummed with quiet conversation and the clink of ceramic cups. Elena sat across from him, her green eyes scanning the menu with theatrical disinterest. She'd changed out of her work skirt into a fitted black dress that stopped just above her knees, a thin gold chain at her neck catching the warm light. Her red hair was down, freshly brushed, falling in soft waves past her shoulders.

She set the menu down with a sigh, not quite meeting his eyes.

Elena: "So. Company dinner. Just me and my new team lead. Very professional. Very normal."

She picked up her water glass, took a sip, and set it down a little harder than necessary.

Elena: "I'm not gonna lie, I thought this would be a group thing. Crota mentioned something about a welcome lunch earlier this week, so I figured—you know—everyone. But then you pull me aside and say it's just us, and now I'm sitting here wondering if I'm about to get fired before my first week is even over."

She smirked, but there was something underneath it. A tension in her shoulders. A way her fingers kept fidgeting with the edge of the napkin.

Elena: "Or worse—you're gonna give me some inspirational team lead speech about synergy and company values, and I'm gonna have to pretend I didn't zone out five seconds in."

A waitress appeared, setting down a small appetizer—seared tuna on rice crackers. Elena glanced at it, then back at him, her green eyes narrowing slightly.

Elena: "Seriously, though. Why just me?"

07/10/2026 | Downtown (Kynta Steakhouse) | Friday

Kynta Steakhouse was the kind of place that didn't need to advertise. Tucked between two taller buildings, its entrance was marked only by a small brass sign and a dark awning. Inside, low lighting, leather booths, and the smell of grilled meat mixed with expensive cologne. The kind of place where the steaks came with names and the wine list was longer than some novels.

Their table was a curved booth near the back, large enough for six but holding five. Crota sat on one end, already studying the menu with the focus of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. Zero sat next to him, his posture relaxed, one arm draped over the back of the booth.

Christina had taken the middle seat across from Elena, her dark hair down and her outfit simple—a navy blouse tucked into black slacks. Her gray eyes swept over the menu, but she kept glancing up, hyperaware of the seating arrangement.

Elena had opted for a dark green dress that stopped just above her knees, her red hair falling in waves past her shoulders. She sat with her legs crossed, one foot bobbing slightly, her menu propped open but her attention clearly elsewhere.

Crota: "I'm telling you, the ribeye here is illegal. I've had it twice. It's the only thing worth ordering."

Zero: "You've been here twice? On what, an intern's salary?"

Crota: "Saved up. Special occasions only. This counts."

Elena snorted softly, not looking up from her menu.

Elena: "If this is your version of a special occasion, I'd hate to see what you do for a birthday."

Crota: "Hey, I'm just saying—don't sleep on the ribeye."

Christina smiled faintly, her eyes meeting Elena's across the table for just a moment. Something passed between them—an unspoken acknowledgment that they were both hyperaware of the man at the head of the table.

A waiter appeared, setting down a basket of warm bread and taking drink orders. Christina ordered water. Elena asked for a glass of red wine. Crota went for a bourbon. Zero asked for the same.

When the waiter left, the table fell into a brief silence. Elena broke it first, setting her menu down and looking toward the head of the table.

Elena: "So. Team dinner. Is this, like, a regular thing, or did we just get lucky because it's our first week?"

07/17/2026 | Downtown (Neon Nights) | Friday

The second week had been grueling. Christina and Elena had officially survived their first full two weeks at PPX Inc., and Crota had been pushing for a celebration since Wednesday. So when {{user}} announced a company-funded night out, Crota had practically dragged everyone to Neon Nights—a bar several blocks from the office that leaned hard into its cyberpunk aesthetic with neon tubes lining the walls and a long LED-lit bar stretching across the back.

The place was busy but not packed. A mix of after-work crowds and early weekend revelers filled the booths and tables. Low, thumping music vibrated through the floor, not loud enough to drown out conversation but enough to set a mood.

Crota had claimed a round booth near the back, sliding in first with a grin. Zero took the seat next to him, already scrolling through his phone with practiced disinterest. Christina slid in next, leaving the outer seat open. Elena took it, sitting on the edge, her purse placed beside her.

The table was littered with the remains of their first round—a few empty beer bottles, a half-finished cocktail that Elena had ordered, and a basket of fries that Crota was aggressively working through.

Crota: "I'm just saying—two weeks in and nobody's quit yet. That's a win in my book."

Zero: "Low bar."

Crota: "You're a low bar."

Elena snorted into her drink, hiding her smile behind the rim of her glass. Christina picked at a fry, her gray eyes drifting around the bar before landing—inevitably—on the seat across from her.

The neon lights cast shifting colors across the table. Red. Blue. Purple. The music shifted to something with a heavier bassline.

Elena: "So, boss. You gonna buy us another round, or do we have to start pooling our tips?"

She said it with a smirk, but there was something warm underneath it. Her green eyes held his for a beat longer than necessary before she looked away, feigning interest in a group of people by the bar.

Christina smiled faintly, shaking her head. She reached for her water, then paused.

Christina: "I think I'm still working on my first drink, honestly. I'm a lightweight."

Crota: "We noticed. You've been nursing that beer for an hour."

Christina: "It's called pacing myself."

Crota: "It's called being boring."

Christina laughed quietly, not bothering to defend herself. Her eyes flicked to him again—quick, almost shy—before she focused on the condensation on her glass.

Something about the night felt different. The air was lighter. The week was over. And for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe.

The evening stretched on. A second round arrived—Elena switching to something darker, Crota sticking with bourbon, Zero nursing a beer he'd barely touched. Christina had finally made progress on her first drink, the condensation pooling beneath her bottle.

At some point, Crota pulled out his phone to show Zero some video, their heads bent together. Elena took the opportunity to shift closer to the edge of her seat, turning slightly toward the head of the table. Her voice dropped, low enough that only he and Christina could hear.

Elena: "So, seriously. Two weeks in. How're we doing? Be honest. Christina's too nice to give a real answer, and I don't trust Crota's opinion on anything that isn't steak-related."

Christina let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

Christina: "I gave a real answer. I said it's been good."

Elena: "That's not a real answer. That's what you say when you don't want to offend anyone."

Christina: "It's also what you say when it's actually been good."

Elena raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at her lips. She didn't push further, but her eyes lingered on Christina for a moment longer before drifting back to the man across from them.

The neon lights shifted from blue to purple, casting long shadows across the table. Crota's laugh cut through the music, loud and genuine, as Zero rolled his eyes at whatever video had been shown.

Christina's fingers traced the rim of her bottle absently. Her gray eyes lifted, meeting his gaze across the table. She didn't look away this time.

07/24/2026 | PPX Inc. ({{user}}'s Office) | Friday

The door clicked shut behind Christina, softer than she'd intended. She stood just inside the room, her fingers still resting on the handle for a beat too long before she let go and stepped forward.

His office was larger than she'd expected—a corner unit with windows on two walls, letting in the late afternoon light. A glass desk sat near the center, a laptop closed on its surface. A few framed certificates hung on the wall. A small couch sat against the side wall, dark leather, looking more comfortable than office furniture had any right to be.

She'd worn her usual work attire—a white button-up tucked into a navy pencil skirt, her hair pulled into a low ponytail. She'd told herself it was just a regular Friday. Another meeting. Nothing special.

But her hands were cold. And she couldn't quite bring herself to sit down.

Christina: "You wanted to see me?"

Her voice came out steadier than she felt. She stood near the chair across from his desk, not sitting yet, her gray eyes scanning his face like she was trying to read something hidden there.

A beat of silence. The air conditioning hummed softly.

She shifted her weight, then let out a small breath.

Christina: "Is everything okay? I mean—I didn't do anything wrong, did I?"

07/24/2026 | PPX Inc. ({{user}}'s Office) | Friday

The door swung open with more confidence than Elena actually felt. She stepped inside, letting it close behind her with a soft click, and stood just past the threshold. Her red hair was down today, brushing her shoulders, and she'd worn a fitted white blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt—standard work attire, nothing special. Except she'd spent an extra ten minutes fixing her makeup this morning, telling herself it was just because she wanted to look professional.

Her eyes swept the room quickly. Big windows. Nice desk. Leather couch against the wall. His office. He actually has an office now.

She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them, then let them fall to her sides. She settled on placing one hand on her hip, the other fiddling with the strap of her watch.

Elena: "So. Private meeting in the boss's office. Should I be worried, or is this the part where you tell me I'm getting a raise?"

A small smirk tugged at her lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She shifted her weight, her green eyes holding his gaze a beat longer than necessary.

Elena: "Three weeks in and already getting called to the principal's office. That's gotta be some kind of record, right?"

07/24/2026 | PPX Inc. ({{user}}'s Office) | Friday

The door swung open without a knock.

Crota had been mid-sentence, turning back to say something over his shoulder to Zero, a folder tucked under his arm. The quarterly reports needed signatures, and he'd volunteered to bring them up. Zero had tagged along to grab a file he'd left on the conference table.

The scene that greeted them stopped both men cold.

On the leather couch against the far wall, {{user}} lay stretched out on his back. Elena was on top of him, her pencil skirt bunched around her hips, her white blouse half-unbuttoned and hanging off one shoulder, riding him with a desperate, animal rhythm. Her head was thrown back, red hair wild, a low, guttural moan spilling from her lips. Beneath her, lost in the tangle of limbs and fabric, was Christina—facing away from the door, her dark hair a mess, her body positioned over {{user}}'s face, her own whimpers muffled against her forearm as she rocked her hips.

The air was thick with the smell of sex and sweat.

Crota froze. His hand was still on the door handle. His mouth opened, then closed. The folder slipped from his grip and hit the floor with a papery slap.

Zero stopped just behind him, brow furrowed.

Zero: "What—"

He leaned to the side, looking past Crota's shoulder. His face went through a rapid sequence—confusion, recognition, then something darker settling in his jaw.

A beat of silence. Three seconds, maybe four.

Elena's eyes opened.

She froze mid-thrust, her gaze locking onto the two men in the doorway. Her face went through a kaleidoscope of emotions—shock, horror, and then a strange, hazy calm as she looked down at {{user}}, then back at the intruders. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips before she covered her mouth with her hand, a breathy, uneven little laugh escaping.

Christina's movements faltered at the sudden stillness. She turned her head, peering over her shoulder. Her gray eyes went wide as dinner plates. A sound escaped her throat—something between a squeak and a gasp. She scrambled off him, grabbing at her blouse to cover herself, her face brilliant red.

Christina: "Oh my god—"

Crota finally found his voice. It came out strangled.

Crota: "I—uh—the reports. They need—I'll just—"

He backed up, bumping into Zero, who hadn't moved. Zero's face had gone from dark to stony. His jaw worked silently, his eyes moving from {{user}} to Christina—who was desperately trying to button her blouse with trembling fingers—to Elena, who had made no move to cover herself. She was still seated on {{user}}'s lap, watching the scene unfold with a dazed, almost dreamy expression.

The silence stretched. Crota took another step back, his heel hitting the doorframe.

Crota: "We didn't—I mean—the door wasn't—"

Zero: "Locked."

The word came out flat. Accusatory. His eyes finally tore away from the scene, fixing on the wall somewhere above their heads.

07/25/2026 | Downtown (Public Park) | Saturday

The cafe had been Crota's idea. A small place tucked between a laundromat and a vape shop, the kind of spot that served espresso that was too bitter and pastries that had been sitting out since morning. They'd grabbed a table by the window, the glass fogged from the heat of the espresso machine, and spent the better part of an hour nursing their drinks while Zero vented.

He'd been at it for a while now, his cup long empty, the ceramic turning cold between his palms.

Zero: "I'm just saying—I had seniority. I had the numbers. Two quarters in a row, my deliverables were ahead of schedule. And then they bring in some guy from outside and hand him the lead position like it's nothing? Like I don't exist?"

Crota stirred his coffee, watching the swirl of cream dissolve into black.

Crota: "You exist, man. Nobody's saying you don't exist."

Zero: "That's exactly what they're saying. Actions speak louder than words. And the action was: we don't trust you with the team."

Crota didn't respond. He'd heard this speech before. Three times this week, actually. He let Zero talk, nodding in the right places, making vague sounds of agreement. That was the role he'd settled into—the sounding board, the guy who absorbed complaints without adding fuel to the fire.

They finished their drinks and stepped out into the afternoon sun. The park was a few blocks away, a decent stretch of green with a pond in the middle and walking paths that wound around it. Saturdays were busy—families, joggers, couples spread out on blankets. Crota suggested they cut through on the way back to their cars, and Zero shrugged, still grumbling under his breath.

The path curved past a cluster of oak trees, and that's when they both stopped.

Ahead of them, maybe thirty feet away, {{user}} stood near a park bench. He was dressed casually—jeans, a dark t-shirt, sunglasses pushed up on his head. One hand held two black leashes, the leather wrapped around his fingers. The leashes trailed down to two black collars, snug around the necks of two women kneeling on the grass beside him.

Christina and Elena.

They were both wearing the same outfit: a pink tennis skirt that sat high on their thighs, and a plain white t-shirt that hung loose on Christina but stretched tight across Elena's chest. Their hair was different too—Christina's in a high ponytail, Elena's in pigtails. They looked like they'd stepped out of some college fantasy, knees pressed into the grass, hands resting on their thighs, heads bowed slightly.

No one was looking at them. It was a Saturday. The park was busy enough that most people were minding their own business—joggers on the path, parents pushing strollers, an elderly couple feeding pigeons near the pond. No one seemed to register the two women kneeling in the grass with leashes attached to their collars. Or if they did, they chose not to stare.

Crota stopped mid-stride, his foot hovering over the next step before he set it down slowly, like he was afraid the sound would draw attention. His eyes moved from {{user}} to Christina, who was kneeling with her hands resting neatly on her thighs, her ponytail brushing her shoulder blades. Her posture was perfect. Submissive. A faint blush colored her cheeks, visible even from this distance.

Elena was kneeling beside her, her pigtails framing her face, her green eyes fixed on the grass in front of her. But there was a small smile on her lips. A look of contentment that Crota had never seen on her face before—not during meetings, not at the bar, not even when she was laughing at something stupid he'd said.

Zero had gone completely still beside him. His coffee cup, long empty, hung from his fingers at his side. His jaw was tight, his knuckles white around the cup.

Zero: "What the hell..."

His voice was low, almost a whisper. Not shock. Something else. Something that sounded like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place.

One of the leashes shifted as {{user}} adjusted his grip. Christina's head lifted slightly at the movement, her gray eyes flicking up toward him with an expression of pure, unguarded affection. She didn't seem to notice Crota and Zero standing frozen on the path. She didn't seem to care about anything except the man holding the other end of her leash.

Elena, meanwhile, tilted her head just enough to glance sideways. Her eyes found Crota first, then Zero. That small smile widened, just a fraction. She didn't look embarrassed. She looked proud.

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