You want a job?
“So, you want a job?” the vixen had asked you.
That’s how you thought of it, of course. An innocuous question but rarely asked in the modern day. Something that almost felt from those bygone days of an agreement and a handshake to show that you got the position. From before all this roundabout resumé and cover letter and 15 references bullshit. A concept that had been all but forgotten in the march of technology and competition. Your memories of a life you’d never lived were jumbled around to the fore as you were caught so impossibly off guard by this sudden query. Who even asked like that, these days?
You couldn’t respond as your eyes drank in the visage of the corporate goddess standing before you. Every inch of her glossy, encased body shined so brightly that you were dazzled from the midday sun. Whether she was here on actual business or her lunch break, your mind could barely comprehend the sight of a latex clad CEO just casually walking around in her finest rubber. Your eyes thirsted to see more of the curves and your ears strained to hear the subtle creaks and squeaks of latex catching upon itself. The polished perfection stole your attention more than even the question itself did.
“Because I have a job for a new secretary.” she spoke slowly, her words dripping with poisoned honey.
The way she talked tore through your mind like wildfire, infecting every synapse and every cell with a need to hear more. Something about the way she spoke just wormed its way around everything. It wasn’t like she said anything particularly unique or her voice was anything different but it had this power to echo about your skull in an endless chorus. Every word pulled a little bit more of ‘you’ out and replaced it with ‘her’. Thoughts and feelings and all of that lazy stuff quickly turned into visions of being the best little worker bee possible. Ideas of…
“You’d be fetching my coffee, taking my calls, polishing my boots, and anything else. Twenty. Four. Seven.”
You knew she meant it. Always on duty, always working. Your days and nights dedicated to working under her, your entire identity subsumed by the corporate aura she was engulfed in. Your very will felt insignificant next to the pure genius of the impossibly rich fox. Something in your mind triggered to tell you that she deserved someone who could work hard. It was just normal, right? Taking the job to such a level meant that you would doubtlessly work your way up the ladder and get a better job. A little ambition never hurt anyone when it came to putting in the effort. Surely, it would be the same here?
“It takes dedication. Your goals to improve are for my purpose. You give up all of those silly things about yourself.” she said calmly, as if she knew where your mind would go. Did she? Had she already taken your mind? The fear gripped you slightly as she continued to speak.
“Ambition.” and that was gone. You couldn’t see yourself as anything other than a worker bee. An office toy. A drone. A mere tool for the company.
“Hobbies.” why would you have any of those? You didn’t want to be late for work. The job was all. The office was your home, the manager’s room your temple. Fantasies of overtime, commanded by your imperious CEO, were suddenly playing through your mind like Christmas tales of old. They were your new desires, your greatest ‘ambition’ to prove your worth at a job you hadn’t yet accepted.
“Everything.” and you felt it sink in, that submission. That need to be anything more than a worker. That wish to simply be a cog in the machine, a wheel that didn’t squeak but wanted nothing more. A compliant piece of machined life that smiled, took calls, and polished boots. A nobody in gray and green. You wanted to be the bespoke servant, the suit wearing servitor.
A machine in living form.
“I….” you squeaked out, your words limp and weak compared to her own. Why speak on your own? A secretary only says what is needed.
“Oh, and I wasn’t asking. Just being polite, I suppose. You’re hired.” your new boss snapped her fingers and turned away, giving you a glorious shot of her shiny posterior. It stole your attention almost as much as the excitement for your dull, monotonous life to be.
“Yes, Boss.” you said, following the God of your new corporate religion to the temple of commerce. You would never have a hobby outside of work, a life outside of the office. Your only marriage was to your job, your career goals crushed under her boots. You even felt your face slowly go flat, your expression empty. You needed only smile when you were greeting customers, not when working in the office. Fetching papers and coffee was a professional job for a nobody like you.
This was your assigned future and you would love it forever.
Little tie in for a piece here because look how damn hot this fox is. I mean, damn.
Art was done by the ever amazing buffbumblebee who just deserves too much love
And the Queen is, as always, mine.
Got some more stuff to post tomorrow but it's 3 AM in Denmark so sleep time
That’s how you thought of it, of course. An innocuous question but rarely asked in the modern day. Something that almost felt from those bygone days of an agreement and a handshake to show that you got the position. From before all this roundabout resumé and cover letter and 15 references bullshit. A concept that had been all but forgotten in the march of technology and competition. Your memories of a life you’d never lived were jumbled around to the fore as you were caught so impossibly off guard by this sudden query. Who even asked like that, these days?
You couldn’t respond as your eyes drank in the visage of the corporate goddess standing before you. Every inch of her glossy, encased body shined so brightly that you were dazzled from the midday sun. Whether she was here on actual business or her lunch break, your mind could barely comprehend the sight of a latex clad CEO just casually walking around in her finest rubber. Your eyes thirsted to see more of the curves and your ears strained to hear the subtle creaks and squeaks of latex catching upon itself. The polished perfection stole your attention more than even the question itself did.
“Because I have a job for a new secretary.” she spoke slowly, her words dripping with poisoned honey.
The way she talked tore through your mind like wildfire, infecting every synapse and every cell with a need to hear more. Something about the way she spoke just wormed its way around everything. It wasn’t like she said anything particularly unique or her voice was anything different but it had this power to echo about your skull in an endless chorus. Every word pulled a little bit more of ‘you’ out and replaced it with ‘her’. Thoughts and feelings and all of that lazy stuff quickly turned into visions of being the best little worker bee possible. Ideas of…
“You’d be fetching my coffee, taking my calls, polishing my boots, and anything else. Twenty. Four. Seven.”
You knew she meant it. Always on duty, always working. Your days and nights dedicated to working under her, your entire identity subsumed by the corporate aura she was engulfed in. Your very will felt insignificant next to the pure genius of the impossibly rich fox. Something in your mind triggered to tell you that she deserved someone who could work hard. It was just normal, right? Taking the job to such a level meant that you would doubtlessly work your way up the ladder and get a better job. A little ambition never hurt anyone when it came to putting in the effort. Surely, it would be the same here?
“It takes dedication. Your goals to improve are for my purpose. You give up all of those silly things about yourself.” she said calmly, as if she knew where your mind would go. Did she? Had she already taken your mind? The fear gripped you slightly as she continued to speak.
“Ambition.” and that was gone. You couldn’t see yourself as anything other than a worker bee. An office toy. A drone. A mere tool for the company.
“Hobbies.” why would you have any of those? You didn’t want to be late for work. The job was all. The office was your home, the manager’s room your temple. Fantasies of overtime, commanded by your imperious CEO, were suddenly playing through your mind like Christmas tales of old. They were your new desires, your greatest ‘ambition’ to prove your worth at a job you hadn’t yet accepted.
“Everything.” and you felt it sink in, that submission. That need to be anything more than a worker. That wish to simply be a cog in the machine, a wheel that didn’t squeak but wanted nothing more. A compliant piece of machined life that smiled, took calls, and polished boots. A nobody in gray and green. You wanted to be the bespoke servant, the suit wearing servitor.
A machine in living form.
“I….” you squeaked out, your words limp and weak compared to her own. Why speak on your own? A secretary only says what is needed.
“Oh, and I wasn’t asking. Just being polite, I suppose. You’re hired.” your new boss snapped her fingers and turned away, giving you a glorious shot of her shiny posterior. It stole your attention almost as much as the excitement for your dull, monotonous life to be.
“Yes, Boss.” you said, following the God of your new corporate religion to the temple of commerce. You would never have a hobby outside of work, a life outside of the office. Your only marriage was to your job, your career goals crushed under her boots. You even felt your face slowly go flat, your expression empty. You needed only smile when you were greeting customers, not when working in the office. Fetching papers and coffee was a professional job for a nobody like you.
This was your assigned future and you would love it forever.
Little tie in for a piece here because look how damn hot this fox is. I mean, damn.
Art was done by the ever amazing buffbumblebee who just deserves too much love
And the Queen is, as always, mine.
Got some more stuff to post tomorrow but it's 3 AM in Denmark so sleep time
Category All / Hypnosis
Species Red Fox
Gender Female
Size 1574 x 2340px
This was an amazing story and amazing artwork, kudos to you and BuffBumblebee ^^
Looove the combination bodysuit, and every bit of the story!
You know, I suppose in a post-scarcity/ post-work society, it's not entirely far-fetched that more people would have a fetish for office work.
This was actually a fantastic read.
And I can tell her job may be the best of them all.
😳
👉👈
And I can tell her job may be the best of them all.
😳
👉👈
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