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Another Case of the Mondays

I sit at my desk, fingers angrily rapping against its wooden surface as I see the absolute mess of an inbox I woke up to today. Second time David's done this, second fucking time! What an absolute bumbling incompetent. Complete fool. Waste of oxygen. Eternal idiot. At least Michael, my adorable little humie, got me my coffee this morning so I'm not quite as riled up as I could be. After an angry huff I put my hands to the keyboard, fingers a blur as I loudly type out a response.

***************

From: Emma Boarson <emma.boarson@arctech.com>

Sent: Monday, December 19, 2022 09:27:03 AM

To: David Yeenson <David.yeenson@arctech.com>

Cc: Human Resources <hr@arctech.com>; Chuck Herrington <chuck.herrington@arctech.com>

Subject: Proper Use of Email Group Tags

Mr. Yeenson, as per my last email you are not to send standard inquiries to the “all.company@arctech.com" group. The all.company group includes every single employee on the company server, all roughly ten thousand of them. While I understand how not knowing where we keep the spare copy paper can be a hindrance to doing your job, you do not need to reach out to the entire company to help you resolve this issue. Doing so has flooded the mailboxes of innumerable employees confused as to why they were receiving massive email chains of others wondering why they received mail not related to their departments, jobs, or even offices. Again, please refrain from doing this in the future. I have included your team leader, Chuck, in this email so he can ensure proper corrective action is taken.

Additionally, as this is not your first violation, I have included the HR department to this email chain so they can reactivate the computer based training course related to proper inter-company online communication procedures in your profile. Please complete this course at the earliest convenience.

PS: Spare copy paper is located in the storage closet on the second floor, the door right in front of the elevator.

All the best,

Ms. Emma Boarson

Manager of Corporate Sales, Halcomb Branch

ArcTech Sales Dept.

mobile: 555-963-8520

email: emma.boarson@arctech.com

***************

My furious typing stops and I lean back while taking a big sip of joe, the life giving liquid warming my belly. Setting the mug down I see the stupid little design on it, “I hate Mondays" placed right above a picture of a very grumpy looking cat. It's dumb but I can't be too mad, Michael got it for my birthday a couple months ago. How he learned what day it was I guess I'll never know. Speaking of Michael I hear his voice come from below my desk.

“You sure were typing fast, firing someone again?"

I remove his head from between my legs and scoot back slightly to look him in the eye. His mouth is still wet with my juices from eating me out all morning, it's become one of his new responsibilities since being promoted to my personal assistant.

“No, just another idiot that can't send an email properly. And did I tell you to stop servicing me down there? It's not even ten yet, my morning wake up is hardly complete."

I shoot him a displeased glare and he smirks in response.

“Anything for my favorite boss. Besides, I've always liked having bacon for breakfast."

I hike my skirt up higher and spread my legs wide, an open invitation for a very unbalanced breakfast.

“If only your tongue could work as hard as the rest of your body. Get to it."

I scoot my chair forward and press his head to my crotch with one hand. While he's pleasuring my cunt I work the mouse with the other hand, filing away an email or two in between waves of bliss. Ahhhh, what a good way to start the day. It's really amazing how my quality of life at work has improved since ambushing Michael in that alleyway. And to think that for a second there I thought my life was over! I was so sure that that was going to be my last night out, that finally I had snatched a humie that knew who I was and could put a permanent end to my weekly outings. It's really a stroke of luck that he ended up being infatuated with an old sow like me. Awful fur coloration, discolored tusks just a little too long to be attractive, beady yellow eyes, and from I can tell I'm not exactly fashionable by human beauty standards either. I don't have the faintest idea what the guy sees in me, not that I'll ever try to refute him when he calls me beautiful.

Took ten times longer than it needed to with Michael 'distracting' me but the inbox is almost sorted. Just have to file away this spam email and-

*click*

The doorknob to my office turns and my heart skips a beat. Did I seriously forget to lock it?! Shit!

It opens and I'm only somewhat relieved to see who walks in. Fortunately it's a human so he probably won't be able to smell the deviancy going on under my desk. Unfortunately it's a young human named Oliver Kennedy, an absolute pain in my backside ever since he got promoted to marketing manager last year. The man is simply unbearable. His insufferable personality, the excessive amount of cologne he bathes himself in, the way he always talks a few decibels louder than he needs to, the humble bragging about his latest vacation to the CEOs beach home last year, but the worst part is how he keeps dropping the fact that our current chief of operations will be retiring soon. Technically either of us could be promoted to fill the position but Oliver's been brown nosing his way to victory ever since his strangely accelerated rise through the ranks started. Not to mention a few screw ups in my department that have seemed…suspicious.

Oliver begins walking closer and I pin myself against the edge of the desk so he wouldn't have a view on Michael down below. In the process I end up banging his head with a thigh and a soft “ow" comes from below. Hoping that Oliver didn't hear it I take the initiative in starting the conversation.

“Hello Mr. Kennedy, what brings you in today?" I quickly blurt out, putting my hands together on the desk and forcing a fake smile.

He pulls out the chair in front of my desk and sits down, a leg hanging from one of the arm rests. Asshole.

“Well Emma, I was just dropping by to ask you a few questions."

“Go ahead."

I squirm a little in my seat. Michael is up to something down below.

“So, I checked my inbox earlier and there's like a million emails in it because some guy named David emailed the whole company again. You going to, like, do something about that? It's annoying."

“I assure you corrective action is already being taken. It won't happen again."

“Why don't you just, you know, fire the dummy?" He says, shooting a picture on the wall with a finger gun.

I see what he's trying to do. If I fire David then Oliver will no doubt bring it up to management later on, bragging about how much better the retention rate in marketing is compared to sales.

“Though I understand why you feel that way David hasn't yet done anything that would qualify him for an involuntary termination from the company. You know that."

“Ya, ya, just throwing that out as a possibility." He suddenly leans up in his seat. “You know Emma, me and some of the other guys are going to take a little weekend vacation down to Florida next month, maybe do a little scuba diving, see all the little fishes and stuff. Wanna come with? The man at the top will be with us. It could be a team building exercise."

Man at the top. Our CEO. Oliver must have learned from someone that I can't swim, I know he wouldn't be bringing up this suggestion in good faith.

I grind my teeth then respond.

“No thanks, I have other commitments."

He shakes his head.

“Aww that really sucks Emma. Maybe next time."

“Maybe next time." I repeat.

Suddenly I feel two hands thrust my knees apart before I have a chance to fight back. And there's Michael's tongue lapping and sucking at my folds again. I fight to maintain my composure and squeeze my thighs together to try and get him to knock it off to no avail.

“Shame. Anyway, I just got it in the mail this morning. What do you think?"

He reaches into a pocket and retrieves a business card, placing it on the desk in front of me.

“Eggshell, recessed lettering, vanta black, century font. Like it?"

With a hand slightly shaking from trying to keep my nerves steeled I move it closer to get a better look. It's really good, must have gotten it from a professional printer. My eyes drift from his name down to his contact information, then the company name, then his position. I tap it with a claw.

“Very impressive, but it looks like they made an error Oliver. You're the manager of marketing, not the director of operations."

Dickwad, already having cards printed with a position he hasn't yet secured. He chuckles lightly and takes the card back.

“Oops, must have made a little typo when I gave them my information. Speaking of cards, what does your look like? Don't think I've ever seen it."

Of course he has, there's a little stand in front of my desk with a couple dozen of my business cards in it. I quickly reach over and pick one up, squaring it in front of him. He looks over it with a halfhearted inquisitiveness.

“Oh wow, that's really nice, very minimal. The gray text on the, what is that background color, vanilla?"

“I call it white." I flatly answer.

He clears his throat and continues.

“Well the gray text on the white background is interesting. I thought boars like you had trouble distinguishing colors that were so close."

It takes all my remaining willpower not to roll my eyes.

“Rumors of our poor eyesight tend to be exaggerated. Besides, our other sense more than make up for it. Speaking of which you may want to tone down the cologne in the future, it feels like my sinuses are on fire with how thick you pile it on. And I highly doubt I'm the only anthro in the office who dislikes it."

He shakes his head and puts my card back on the stand.

“Understood. I'll try to use less in the future Emma. I try to be nothing if not accommodating."

With Michael picking up the pace down below my muscles start to tighten and cool exterior is in danger of cracking. I bring a hand down and lightly dig my claws into his scalp in an attempt to make him stop.

“Well Oliver is there anything else you would like to discuss?"

“Uhhh, no, I think that's it."

“Good. I'll be seeing you around."

“Talk to you later Emma." He says with a wink.

He gets up and saunters out of the room, with each step the smell of his cologne becomes less overpowering and my poor nose starts to clear. The door closes behind him and I scoot away from the desk to look at Michael.

“Next time you try that shit I'm demoting you to unpaid intern!" I angrily whisper and bop him on the head.

“You never told me to stop. I'm just following orders!"

A pathetically weak excuse.

“Oh please, you knew exactly what you were doing. Now you better finish me off and-“

*click*

The door cracks open and I violently look up and shove myself against the desk again. Olivers head peeks in.

“One thing I forgot to ask you Emma."

“What?" I ask with another fake smile.

“You coming to the office Christmas party next week?"

My response is immediate.

“No."

“Okay…well…just wondering. Bye."

The door shuts, I silently pray this is the last time I have to talk to him today, and once again I scoot back to look at Michael.

“I think we're finally alone."

“Hold up, you're not going to the Christmas party?"

“Of course not!" I say with a laugh. “I've always hated those stupid little events. Watered down drinks, cheap finger food, stale cake, and I already get all the interaction with my coworkers I can tolerate during the workday. I'd prefer to spend my time off away from them."

Michael gets off his knees and leans against my desk, arms crossed.

“I get it, you're tired of work and the people you see here, but what else are you going to do the week before Christmas? Why not get out, socialize a little, maybe with enough of those watered down drinks you'll even enjoy it!"

I sigh and stare blankly at my monitor. What else was I going to do so close to Christmas? My kids still aren't on talking terms with me, contacting my ex-husband is out of the question, not much of anyone I could spend the time with. If the pattern holds then I'll probably just drink myself to sleep like every other holiday before this one. Depressing, but also realistic.

I raise a hand to my snout.

“Eh…" I murmur, considering Michaels offer.

He leans in.

“Come on Ms. Boarson, I'll even bring some cake in and I promise it won't be stale."

“I don't know…"

He cocks his head, a concerned look on his face.

“I know how empty your house is Emma. You should really get out some for the holidays."

On one hand I hated it when he called me by my first name, on the other hand I also know he did it to get my attention. And to be honest, he's right. I really should try to have some fun once in a while.

“It's Ms. Boarson, Michael." I spit out with a frown before shifting into an embarrassed smile. “But I guess I might drop by for a little while. I'll meet you there."

He claps his hands together in elation.

“Great!"

I point a claw to below the desk.

“Now get back under there and finish me off, I don't enjoy getting blue beaned."

“My pleasure."

He gets back under and I spread my legs for him, sticky strands of our mixed fluids forming and drooping from between my thighs. He brings his head close to my crotch, warm breath teasing my lips, but stops much to my annoyance.

“Why are you stopping?" I quickly whisper.

“Uhhh, don't you think you should lock the door? Just in case someone drops by again."

I groan and stand up, lowering my skirt before walking up to the door.

“Good idea. And regarding confidentiality, remember to wash your face in my bathroom after we're done. I don't want anyone smelling what we've been up to." I lock the door with a satisfying click. “There are already enough rumors flying around this office."

Feeling Bullish

With a deep breath I open the car door and step into the chilly outside air. This feels so weird, not being in my work clothes yet about to enter the office. I wasn't sure what to wear given I had never been to one of these holiday parties before so I decided to go festive casual, a plain red turtleneck paired with loose jeans and a green and white knitted scarf. I suppose I could have gone for something more overtly festive but eh, this was the closest I felt comfortable in without going straight for the ugly Christmas sweater and santa hat.

I slam the door shut and begin walking to the entrance, my hooves beating against the pavement with each step. Hooves that I polished and painted a couple of crossed candy canes on just before I left the house. God, it's been forever since I've done either of those things, not since before the divorce I think. As nostalgic as having nice looking hooves is I'll have to remember to get some nail polish remover later on and erase the candy canes before work starts back up again. It is against our dress code and I need to set a good example for the other hooved females in the office.

I push open the doors to the main lobby and survey the party. Stringers and shiny tinsel have been hung on every surface that they could be taped on to. Near the back is the lobby's large Christmas tree speckled with shining ornaments and multicolored lights, underneath it is a small pile of boxy presents wrapped in lacy bows. I can smell the tree sap from here. Apparently Chuck, one of the team leaders under me, has some kind of side hobby growing pine trees and donated one to the office to use this year. I may have to give him a raise next quarter as a sign of appreciation. To the right I see a collection of round tables full of people seated and chatting, to the left I see a row of tables setup with all sorts of food. Cakes, little sandwiches, cookies, chips, a few crock pots of soup and chili. Smells good, and in front one of the tables I see Michael putting items on a plate. I walk up behind him.

“Told you I would make it."

Must have spooked him since he almost drops his plate with how fast he turns around.

“Oh! Hey Ms. Boarson, glad to see you here."

“I don't plan on staying long, what do we have to do around here?"

“Well you came just in time, the CEO is supposed to give a speech here soon, some kind of summary of how we've been doing the past year. After that there's going to be a drawing for all those presents under the tree. If you want to enter then write your name on one of those tickets over there and put it in the box, everyone gets one entry."

“I think I'll pass, anything after that?"

“Nope. Then we'll just eat until it's time to go home. Oh yeah, there's also some punch on the table right here. It's…pretty good." He says with a mischievous smile.

He steps away from the punch and I move in front of it, the smell of alcohol already apparent.

“Okay Michael, what did you put it in?"

“It wasn't me I swear!" He says, eyes wide and smile subdued. “But I did see Croft run by here and slip something from his flask into it."

Croft, our squirrelly IT manager with a drinking problem. For some reason I'm inclined to believe Michael, this seems just like the sort of thing the tree rat would try to pull. I take a paper cup and pour some of the pink punch into it. Taking a sip I taste, fruit, sugar, lime, and…rum. Jesus. That's a lot of rum.

“Any 'official' adult beverages around here?" I ask, taking another sip.

He points to a table topped with an ice bucket and a few bottles sticking out of it.

“We got champagne over there. Some vixen brought it over earlier."

“Probably Lexi from human resources, not going to bother with it since I have the strangest feeling this punch is stronger. Didn't you say you were going to bring something over for the party?"

“Yes! It's right over here Ms. Boarson."

He walks over to the desert table and stops in front of one of the cakes. It's round, clearly chocolate based on the color, but the strangest thing is how the outer surface is designed. Multiple overlapping layers of milk chocolate and dark chocolate have been poured over the top to create an almost tiger stripe like pattern. I marvel at it for a bit before turning to Michael.

“You made this?"

“It's an old family recipe. Believe it or not it tastes even better than it looks."

I smile and point to the cake.

“I get it you know, that's cute."

“Get what?" He says, eyes squinted in a curious stare.

My smile fades as I give a confused response.

“Well, your mother is a…she's a…she's a tiger, right?"

“Yes, what does that have to do with anything?"

I wave a hand dismissively then grab a plate.

“Never mind. I'm going to grab a slice then we should sit down somewhere."

I take a slice of Michaels cake and we head towards the tables, sitting down at one occupied by Croft, my favorite fluffy tailed drunk, and Chandra, a vixen my age who works in HR. Why the HR department seems to be staffed exclusively with foxes I wasn't sure. At least it meant their gekkering was contained to only one section of the building.

“Hey Emma, howsss it goin'?" Asks Croft as I sit down. From the smell on his breath he's clearly been sipping on something since the party started.

“Doing great Croft. How have things been in IT? Resisting the urge to chew on all those cables I hope?"

He slaps his knee.

“Ha! As much as I would like to say yes, I have to keep my teeth sharp somehow ya old boar. And they taste pretty good anyway. Especially the purple ones." He says, picking something out of his buck teeth.

I turn towards Chandra.

“And how have you been doing?"

“Same as always Emma, same as always." She responds with her usual brand of casual disinterest, absentmindedly flicking a potato chip around on her plate.

“And the kits?"

“Oh my gosh!" Her face brightens and ears perk up, she always did love talking about her kits. “You would not believe what my little Ava did while we were grocery shopping the other day. So you remember how avocado upsets her stomach right? Well we were in cereal aisle when out of nowhere she vomits all over the floor! As much as it embarrassed me I couldn't help but notice it was a tinged a suspicious shade of green. I ask her about it when we're out of the store and she denies eating any avocado recently. So when she was in school the next day I do a little searching around her room and what do I find?" The vixen leans in, voice low. “Three fresh avocados under her bed hidden in a paper bag."

I can't help but laugh as she throws her arms up in exasperation and continues.

“I don't even know where she finds them! And why does she keep eating them?! I don't get it! All they do is make her sick."

“Forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest." Says Michael. “If you say she can't eat avocados then maybe she's eating them as a form of rebellion, a way to get back at you for something."

“Get back at me for what? I've been nothing but a good mother to her!" Chandra exclaims.

“Chandra, honey, didn't you run off her latest boyfriend? Kick him out of the house angrily gekkering the entire way?" I ask.

She crosses her arms.

“Number one, he was there without permission. Number two, he was a coyote and we all know coyotes and foxes never get along. And number three, he was a scorpio while my Ava is an aquarius. It was never going to work out!"

“Well I think we found the-“

*TINK TINK TINK*

We all stop and look towards the source of the sound in unison. Near the rear of the lobby is our CEO Mr. Franklin standing in front of the Christmas tree, a champagne glass in one hand and a fork in the other. The old bull is dressed in a plain white dress shirt with a gaudy red and green striped tie. His black fur seems to have even more gray hairs compared to the last time I saw him.

“If I could have your attention for a moment, please." His deep voice booms across the lobby. “I hope you're all having a wonderful holiday season and enjoying the party so far, I know I am. As with every other one of these holiday gatherings I would like to give a brief recount of the many trials and tribulations Arctech successfully navigated through this very tumultuous year. Starting in the first quarter with the acquisition of…"

My eyes begin to glaze over as he begins recounting the events of the year. The acquisition of a smaller company, the early retirement of an executive, a record sales figure or two, that one time someone left a bag of popcorn in the microwave for too long and the fire alarms went off. Who did that one again? Right, I think it was Yeenson. That spotted idiot. I politely clap during a lull and finish with another long swig of punch. Either Mr. Franklins speeches have gotten twice as boring recently or the alcohol in this punch is making me sleepy, probably both. I rest my head on the palm of a hand and can't help but overhear Croft and Chandra in the middle of a conversation.

“He's getting busy with her to snag the promotion is what I heard, it's just a nasty rumor though." Chandra says.

“Ah, porking ones superior for the promise of improved monetary compensation and preferred treatment. A tale as old as time." Replies Croft.

Mildly concerned at their topic of conversation I turn to Chandra.

“Hey, who are you guys talking about?"

“No one." Chandra says with a mischievous smile.

Growing more concerned I look to Croft who thankfully answers.

“We're talking about Oliver and the director of operations, word around the office is that he's been engaging in not so professional behavior with her while on the clock. No proof though."

“No way! With her? Not only is she married but she's a wolf, they mate for life." I reply.

Chandra and Croft chuckle in unison. Chandra leans in to quietly whisper in my ear.

“Half wolf."

Bewildered, I squint my eyes and scan the tables around us for the wolfy director. Sure enough she's seated a few tables away from ours, muzzle deep in a glass of champagne and seated right next to Oliver. I try to casually observe her for a few moments. Even after looking over her features she still appeared to be one hundred percent wolf, but then again maybe she's using fur dye to hide some unnatural coloration. And though her being seated right next to her supposed secret lover is odd, it could just be a simple coincidence. Before I can continue my observation I suddenly hear the rush of paws and Lexi, one of the foxes from HR, hurries over my side and leans down.

“Ms. Boarson! I hate to bother you but could you do us a really big favor tonight?"

“What is it?"

“Well, for the drawing we were going to have someone dress up as Santa and pick out names from the box. We planned on having our accounting manager do it but he just let us know he has to leave early due to a family emergency. You're a manager too, so do you think you could take his place? Pretty pleeease?" She says with a desperate smile.

I sigh and look to Croft who slowly shakes his head. Feeling somewhat merciful today, and perhaps a little tipsy, I elect to not force the squirrel into the humiliating position of Santa and look back towards Lexi.

“Sure, I'll do it."

“Thank you-thank you-thank you! We have a Santa coat and hat you can wear. And if you can wrangle in someone else to play the part of an elf we have a costume for them too."

I turn my gaze towards Michael, a sly smile on my snout. Noticing my stare he slowly turns to me with worrisome eyes.

“I have someone in mind."

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Michael and I sneak over to the front of the Christmas tree with a couple fold out chairs while Mr. Franklin winds down his speech.

“Ms. Boarson do I really have to wear these tights? They're super uncomfortable." Michael says in a half whisper.

“Yes, I'm your manager so it only makes sense you have to be my elf. Stop whining."

“It's not fair. All they give you is a coat and hat while I have the tights, and the stupid little shoes with the curly end, and the pointy hat, and-“

“Be quiet! Besides, I think they're cute. They really show off your glutes."

“Th-…thanks?"

“You're welcome. Now sit down and shut up while he finishes his speech."

We fold out our chairs and take places in front of the tree. I order Michael to fetch me the ticket box for the drawing and he dutifully complies, returning just in time for the bull to finish up.

“-and with that I wish you all a merry Christmas, happy new year, and the best of luck on all your future endeavors. Next up I believe we have a drawing to give all those presents under the tree to a few lucky winners. Take it away Ms., uhhh, our manager of sales!"

He forgot my name. Wonderful. I politely smile and wave as they clap.

“Merry Christmas everyone! Sorry but Santa's real busy this time of year so I'll be taking his place giving out presents. And helping me is my assistant turned elf, Michael. Elf! The first present!"

He grabs a present from under the tree and hands it to me. It's about the size of a couple shoeboxes on top of one another. I make a show of shaking it next to my head.

“ooo what could this be? New coffee machine? A new set of knives? A couple dozen sets of mismatched used socks? Whatever the case it'll be going to…"

I open the box with all the tickets and stick a hand in it, eventually pulling one out in front of my snout. My smile dies as I read the name. Hopefully my last guess for what's in the box turns out to be the correct one.

“…Oliver!" I yell with fake enthusiasm.

I hand the present to Michael and he ferries it over to Oliver as everyone claps. Wow, out of all the names I could have pulled for the first present it just had to be Oliver, what a bad start to this thing. Michael returns and hands me another present. With a grumble I reach back into the box and choose another name.

“And the next one goes to…Sarah!"

The rest of the drawing goes without incident. With the presents distributed the party starts to die down as a few people leave early. Realizing that also meant that the food was going to be packed up soon everyone starts crowding around the food tables trying to get one last serving of whatever they liked. I go for more punch and another slice of Michaels cake, not only did it taste delicious but only one piece remained! Empty plate and cup in hand I make a beeline for the striped chocolatey deliciousness only to bump shoulders with Mr. Franklin at the same time I reach it.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Ms. Boarson, right?" Asks the bull.

“Yes, that was a wonderful speech you gave earlier Mr. Franklin."

“Thank you. And I'm terribly sorry about forgetting your name earlier Ms. Boarson, total brainfart. I know I don't communicate with my managerial staff as much as I like to but I try to make it a habit of knowing the names of as many employees as possible. Unfortunately you tend to forget a few of them when you get to my age." He says with a nervous laugh.

I give him a reassuring smile and pat on the shoulder.

“I know you didn't mean anything by it." Looking down I scoop up the last piece of cake with a knife and fork, depositing it on Mr. Franklins plate. I'll have to get Michael to make more of this stuff later on, for now the bull can have the last slice.

“Oh thanks Ms. Boarson, you don't have to give me the last slice."

“No, take it! I'm mostly here for the punch." I say, leaning over to fill my cup with more of the spiked drink.

The bull steps closer, voice low as to not make his words immediately clear to the crowd around us.

“Have you heard that our director of operations is leaving soon?"

“Yes, I heard about her eventual departure some time ago."

“You know, you qualify for her position. Do you have any interest in taking it? It would come with quite a few bonuses compared to your current position."

I wave a hand dismissively and sip my punch.

“No, not really, I'm happy with where I'm at right now. Being the manager of corporate sales may not have the same prestige as a director but it does bring with it a certain level of comfort. I get to see all my employees on a daily basis, no mandatory travel, and I can expect my assistant to have a cup of coffee ready before I come in every morning. Besides, I think Oliver is really the one gunning for it right now. He can have it as far as I'm concerned."

I intentionally leave out the fact that it would also mean I have to see Oliver far less often, my number one reason for hoping he ends up getting it.

“I understand. Just know that if you want me to, I can put a good word in for you. Just because Oliver wants the position doesn't necessarily mean that he's the best one to fill it."

I shake my head in agreement and raise the cup to my mouth. But just as the punch passes my lips I feel a violent tug on my tail from behind. In response my body begins an unstoppable sequence of events. My muscles tighten and lock up, hairs on my neck raise, and my mouth lets out a high pitched surprised squeal. My mouth that was also full of punch.

I end up spitting most of it over Mr. Franklins dress shirt, its white surface now speckled with little pink dots. In shock he raises his arms and looks down. After a few involuntary coughs I shoot my head behind me to see what fucking jack ass just pulled my tail. Only to see no one there. Just a smell. Cologne.

Tail puller identified I look back to Mr. Franklin and grab a few napkins from the table, dabbing his shirt in an attempt to salvage the situation.

“Mr. Franklin I am so sorry I didn't mean to ruin your shirt like that. I don't know what happened! It just went down the wrong pipe."

He picks up a napkin as well and assists me in cleaning his shirt.

“Don't worry about it." He says with a laugh. “This is why bleach exists isn't it? Maybe I'll find some under my tree on Christmas morning."

“Heh, right."

After a few more quick apologies Mr. Franklin departs to eat his cake and I go back to the table to find Michael sitting alone.

“Geez, you look miffed about something." Michael says.

I angrily set my cup onto the table and sit down, taking a long swig of punch before responding.

“Oliver pulled my tail while I was talking to the CEO. Made me spit my drink all over him. What happened to Croft and Chandra?"

“Chandra had to leave to take her daughter to some recital. Croft went to go drink somewhere private, he's probably locked away in some server closet if I had to guess. And Oliver pulled your tail? That's seriously rude."

“It's beyond rude Michael. Pulling on an anthros tail is a serious no-no no matter how funny it might sound. God…" I drink the rest of my cup before continuing to ward off a rapidly growing sense of anger. “…I'll have to figure out a way to get back at him. Ransack his office or something. Steal some documents, put a virus on his computer, sign his email address up for a bunch of porn sites. But…that can wait for later. I want to at least enjoy the rest of the party without thinking about petty revenge."

After simmering in silence for a few minutes while desperately trying to not think up new and creative ways to get back at Oliver Michael decides to pipe up.

“I like your hooves."

“Huh?"

“The candy canes you painted on them. They're nice."

I look downward to my hooves, I completely forgot I had painted them ever since arriving at the party.

“Oh, ya, they are pretty nice aren't they? Been a long time since I bothered to take care of them."

“You should do it more often."

I look up to him with a curious stare.

“Oh? You like my hooves…elf boy?"

He snorts and looks away, hiding his blushing face before clearly trying to dodge my question.

“We should change out of these costumes before the party ends. Lexi's gone so do you know where they go?"

“We'll leave them in front of her office. Let's go ahead and do that, the alcohol is starting to wear off and I'm beginning to realize just how stupid agreeing to Lexis favor actually was."

After changing out of our festive costumes we regroup outside of the bathrooms and march towards the HR section of the building. Though rarely visiting HR I needed no directions to find it, just follow the musky scent of fox. Through the dimly lit empty hallways we go, idly chatting until I smell something out of the ordinary. Cologne. His cologne. With two voices becoming louder from up ahead I stop in my tracks and listen.

“What is it?" Asks Michael.

“Shhh!"

“What?" He asks more quietly.

The voices become slightly clearer and I can identify who they belong to. One is Oliver, unsurprisingly, and the other is a wolfess, our current director of ops. With the gossip Chandra spilled to me earlier bouncing around my head I grab Michael by the shoulder and we duck into a nearby cubicle.

“Michael be very quiet. Oliver and the director of ops are coming closer."

“Ohhhhh, I see. You want to see if they really are banging each other. Maybe get some blackmail on Oliver and humiliate him with it?"

“Shush!" I angrily whisper back, keenly aware of just how sensitive the hearing of a wolfess is.

We stand still as statues while the sounds become louder. Eventually I manage to catch their words as they round a corner.

“No, of course he doesn't know. We wouldn't have gotten this far if he did." Says the wolfess.

“Just making sure. I never figured the old coot as being very perceptive. Just a few more weeks and I'll have your position, you'll be working for Pentrix, and together we'll be making bank, trading secrets."

“And spit. And other things." I hear her plant a passionate kiss on his cheek. Then another one. Their pace slows as they gradually stop right next to the cubicle me and Michael are in.

“Whoa, you're very forward today. Husband not tending to you?"

“No." She says with a throaty growl. “And I have needs Oliver. Needs that you know just how to satisfy."

They engage in sloppy affections for a few uncomfortable moments before stopping.

“Take your pants off." She commands.

“Right now? There are still people in the building we could get-“

“Shut up. Take your pants off."

“Fine, fine. But we'll have to make this one quick. If we get caught we're fucked."

A belt comes undone and pants falls to the ground, it's soon accompanied by several buttons coming undone and more clothes falling. The disgraceful stench of their sex comes across my snout and an idea pops into my head.

“Hey Michael, get your phone out and-“

I stop as I see Michael already preoccupied with filming the candid pornstars, phone camera stealthily peeking out from the top of the cubicle. He flashes me a thumbs up and return it. Mercifully the moans of passion stop after a few minutes and the sounds of clothing coming back on grace my ears. The scheming couple soon leave and I peek out to make sure the area is clear. Seeing no one I turn to Michael.

“Oh. My. God. That blabbermouthed vixen was right!"

“And I got it all on camera." Michael gloats with a devious smile.

I pat him on the head.

“Good boy. It makes sense why Oliver wears so much cologne now, no one in the office can detect all that wolf slobber on him if it's covered up by something that makes your nostrils burn. They've probably been fucking around the office for a while. And that must also be part of the reason Oliver's been able to climb the ranks so easily, she's no doubt been greasing his ascension with how much power she has."

“And what was that about her working for pentrix?"

I raise a hand to my chin.

“Hmmm. Pentrix is the biggest rival to Arctech. They must be planning on trading company secrets with each other after she gets hired by them. That way each company would technically have an inside man on the other side. After that? Who knows. Maybe they'll do some insider trading, sell sensitive data to the black market, whatever they plan on doing it can't be good. The whole thing is sleazy as hell. We should consider ourselves lucky we were at the right place at the right time to record them."

“Very lucky."

“Right. And on top of that she's his superior! And twice his age! And she's married! Everything about their relationship is downright scandalous. A gross violation of ethics. Totally immoral."

Michael nervously rubs his arm.

“uhh…ya…totally immoral."

I shoot him a disarming smile.

“Don't let the similarities fool you. The only thing I gave you for agreeing to keep our little relationship a secret from the rest of the company was a side grade to my assistant and a ten cent raise. And that raise technically should have been done automatically last year. Me and that wolfess are not comparable. Well, half wolfess. Now let's put away these costumes and figure out what we're going to do with the video."

I step out of the cubicle and Michael follows.

“We could send it to Mr. Franklin. He would stop their plans and fire them." Michael suggests.

“No, I want something a little more dramatic than that. If Oliver thinks he can humiliate me without fitting payback he's out of his mind."

“Like what?"

I pause, a devious plan forming between my ears.

“Maybe we'll send it to more people than just Mr. Franklin. A lot more people."

“Oh?"

“We'll need Croft though. Don't want to send it from an email address that can be traced back to one of us."

“He's probably sleeping in one of the server closets around here, an empty flask in his hand. Shouldn't be too hard to find."

“Good. Maybe I'll also see if he can have it sent on a specific day."

Michael giggles as he sees what I'm getting at.

“What? Don't trust Santa to give you any presents?"

I giggle back.

“No, I have a feeling I'm going to end up on his naughty list for this."

Krampus's Younger Sexier Sister

I lay on the couch with a laptop resting on my belly. To the right is a coffee table holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate and beyond it a burning gas fireplace casts a pleasing orange glow across the living room. I take the cup and sip, my eyes glued to the screen. Any minute now. And….there!

***************

From: David Yeenson <david.yeenson@arctech.com>

Sent: Sunday, December 25, 2022 7:00:01 PM

To: Kenny Franklin <kenneth.franklin@arctech.com>

Cc: all.company <all.company@arctech.com>

Subject: Merry Christmas!

[1 video file attached]

(blank)

Mr. David Yeenson

Sales Associate, Halcomb Branch

ArcTech Sales Dept.

mobile: 555-523-5888

email: david.yeenson@arctech.com

***************

I can't help but giggle in glee as I see the email pop into my inbox. It may be Christmas but it wouldn't be long until other people saw it and the inboxes of every single employee would be completely flooded. Some would be confused, some disgusted, and a few would be downright furious. Whatever the case Oliver and his side bitch would soon be exiting the company, their reputation in shambles. Coming down from my revenge high I close the laptop and lean back, a pleased sigh escaping my lips.

So, what to do now? My eyes drift to a few bottles standing on top of my fridge. Like the past several Christmases I could drink myself to sleep, alone but happy. Or…I could spend it with someone else. Only one real option for that. But I don't want to be a bother, I'm sure Michael is very busy right now spending Christmas with his family. But it is past seven, he may be done with Christmas celebrations. And if I can do something to make it worth his while…

I snatch my phone off the coffee table and shoot him a quick text.

[Merry Christmas Michael, you busy?]

He's surprisingly quick with a response.

[Nope, just finished dinner with the family. Please don't tell me you need me to come in today.]

[Luckily for you, no :). I'm just wondering, did your Christmas dinner happen to include more of that striped cake?]

[Yes…]

[Think you could bring some over to my place?]

[Sure, when do you want it?]

[As soon as you're free.]

[See you in about forty five minutes then.]

[Stay warm on the walk over, I know how easily you humies get cold! ;)]

I toss the phone onto the couch and stand up, joints creaking. I've been laying on that couch for far too long, I've got to get ready for tonights activities. Walking into the bathroom I undress and throw my clothes into a neat pile on the floor. Looking at the mirror I quickly survey my body. Same beady eyes, same dark gray fur, same paunchy belly, same two weighty breasts and the four smaller ones below them, same yellow tusks flanking a wet black snout. Maybe I should get them whitened. But I can think about doing that later, it's time to get into a more comfortable getup.

Walking into my bedroom I open a dresser and assess what colors of lingerie I have available. Let's see, white, black, purple, red. I'm thinking red. Best fit for the time of the year. I quickly slide a pair of lacy red panties up my broad hips and pair it with an equally lacy red bra. I grab the red fishnets but after a sudden change of heart I set them back into the drawer. My eyes are fixated on a pair of thigh high red stockings laying in the drawer and I can't help but feel drawn to them. Since when did I own a pair of those? No matter, they're going on my legs to complete the outfit. Not only would they be warmer than the fishnets but they're a bit less whorish. After carefully working the stockings up my legs and securing them to my panties I get back in front of the mirror. Claws quickly painted alternating shades of green and red, red lipstick applied, it's time to put a coat on and head out. Yet just as I pass the bathroom door I can't help but feel like I'm forgetting something. Oh, right, he's going to like this. I know he will.

***************

Not many people outside tonight, the sidewalks and roads are practically deserted as I finish the walk to a familiar alleyway. Not a big surprise given the rapidly dropping temperatures and clouds of snow flurries starting to come down. On the bright side that just meant that it would be easy to detect Michael as he approaches. Slinking into the alleyway I put my back against a wall and cross my arms, the occasional gust of wind finding its way through my coat and onto the practically bare body underneath. Sure, with my fur and 'natural insulation' it would quite some time before I got cold but that didn't mean I could wait around forever.

After a few random couples and a street worker pass by my alleyway I detect the faintest sound of boots crunching on snow. Two feet, one person, from how hard they're hitting the ground it's probably a guy, this could be him. I creep to the edge of the alleyway and poke my snout out, taking a couple deep sniffs. Definitely a human…male…young…and he's got something with him. I take a few more rapid sniffs to decipher the scent, inhaling a few snowflakes in the process. It's…chocolate cake! I cackle and slide back behind the edge of the alleyway, prey identified.

He's coming closer.

So close.

Almost there.

And…now!

The second Michael enters my vision I step out and place a clawed hand on his shoulder causing him to jump out of fright. He stumbles a couple steps back, almost slipping on the snow before regaining his footing. And it's a good thing he didn't drop the cake, if he did my night would most definitely be ruined.

“Oh! Ms. Boarson! You spooked me, haha." He says, a gloved hand clutched to his chest and the other holding a round cake container.

I put my hands on my hips, a displeased expression plastered on my face.

“Oh? Seeing me scares you enough to practically jump out of your skin? Is my tusked visage really that frightening?"

“No-no-no!" He says with a laugh, a pleading hand held out. “It's just I was focused on not slipping on the snow when you grabbed me is all. That, and well, you know what happened the last time we met near a dark alley."

I step closer, displeased expression softening into a playful smile.

“I see, you were expecting me to throw you into that dark, cold, concrete alleyway and rip off your clothing, weren't you? Then you probably expected me to play with your furless little body as I pleased, eventually leaving you a panting dehydrated mess on the cold concrete, right?"

He gives a nervous laugh.

“Well, heh, uhhh…."

“I mean really, me? An accomplished career woman with a clear criminal history and well-earned status as a valued member of society? I don't do those sorts of things!"

I step closer, my snout right to his ear as I whisper a single word.

“Anymore."

I lean back to see his coy grin.

“Okay Ms. Boarson, so why did you decide to meet me out here and not at your house?"

“It's simple. After calling you over I realized just how dangerous making a vulnerable, defenseless, unclawed, toothless, lone humie trek through the elements in the cold darkness of town really was. Not to mention how you've even got a delectable desert with you acting like some kind of chocolatey bait for a devious sweet toothed anthro!" I put a hand to my chest, words filled with a faux seriousness. “I just couldn't stay in my humble home while you took this dangerous journey alone, horrible fates dancing through my head. Think about it! All it takes is some vicious polar bear woman in heat to smell a lone humie walking around carrying a delicious desert and BAM! You're kidnapped, locked in her house, and forced to make her seal meat pies for the rest of your natural life. Or you could have slipped on some ice and died! It could happen to anyone!"

Michael bends over in laughter.

“Oh please Ms. Boarson! I'm not that defenseless."

I join in his laughter, stepping beside him and draping an arm across his shoulders.

“Alright, alright, in reality I just wanted to make sure the cake reached its destination safely. Now let's head over to my house. The hot chocolate's on me when we get there."

He presses into my side and looks up.

“Lead the way, boss."

***************

We rush towards the front door and I quickly unlock it, throwing it open as we step into the toasty warm interior. After Michael's inside I shut the door to stop any additional torrents of snowflakes from flying in.

“Wew!" Exclaims Michael, wiping a dusting of snow off his shoulders. “The weather really picked up. Practically a blizzard outside now."

“I was freezing my tits off out there!" I exclaim, rubbing my hands together to get some feeling back into them.

He cocks an eyebrow.

“Really? Even with that coat on?"

Not wanting to spoil the surprise just yet I give him a quick order.

“Go set the cake down on the counter."

“Sure."

He walks over to the kitchen counter while I silently unbutton my coat, repositioning myself as quietly as my hooves would allow to ensure he would have a full view of my lewd body when he turns around.

“So," He says, setting the cake down. “I brought enough over that we could both have some, if you're willing to part with a slice that is."

He turns around to face me and at the same time I let the coat fall off my shoulders with a confident flair. His eyes slowly drift from my face, down to my chest, then panties, his expression slack jawed the entire way.

“I had a feeling you didn't invite me over just so I could deliver some cake." He finally utters after regaining his senses.

I smile and move closer, exaggerating the wiggle in my hips with each step.

“Very perceptive Michael, I just couldn't let you go so easily with how naughty you've been lately."

“Naughty?"

“Secretly recording two people fucking like a peeping tom, helping it get leaked to the entire company, not paying your boss her proper respects lately, spiking the punch at a Christmas office party, you've been a very bad boy this year."

“I already told you it was Croft that spiked the-“

“Zip it!" I shout, cutting him off. “I think it's time you pay for your bad behavior. Get on the couch."

He complies and backs away, sitting at one end of the couch. I sit down at the other end and lay sideways, placing my left leg across his lap while folding my right leg under my thigh.

“Like your presents Michael?"

“Huh?"

I bring my left hoof up and lovingly stroke it under his chin before letting it back down onto his lap. He looks down seeing the festive little presents I painted on it before I left the house.

“I know you like my hooves Michael; I could tell as much at the party. Touch it, what do you think?"

He runs a hand over my left hoof admiring it. His fingers run across its front and sides, exploring where smooth keratin ended and dense fur began, tracing the painted on presents, how it moved, a thumb gently pushing between where the two halves of my hoof parted. Admittedly I could barely feel his touch, an anthros hooves aren't exactly sensitive, but I did appreciate how delicately he wanted to treat them. In a way it made me feel delicate, a foreign yet titillating sensation.

He brings his head closer to inspect my handiwork.

“Your hooves are really nice Ms. Boarson. Being a human the idea of walking on these things is pretty strange to me, guess that's part of why I find them so interesting. And the presents you painted on this one look really nice. You don't give yourself enough credit."

“Thanks. I used to paint them more often when I was younger, guess I still got the skills."

“That you do. You should paint them more often."

I give a displeased grunt.

“Did you just try to give your boss an order Michael?"

“I-it was only a suggestion!"

I cross my arms and huff.

“Naughty boy, trying to order his superior around." I can feel a devilish smile creep on my muzzle as I bring my right hoof around, laying it in his lap. “I might find it within myself to pardon your transgression if you give proper praise to the design I painted onto the other hoof. I spent a lot of time polishing and prettying up my hooves for you Michael, a lot of time!"

He looks down at my right hoof, eyes taking in the green and red paint.

“Oh…it's mistletoe."

“Yes, and what do you think of it?" I say impatiently.

He leans down, turning my hoof around to see the design from all angles.

“It's beautiful. The paint glitters in the light from the fire and the lines are very sharply defined, you did an excellent job Ms. Boarson."

“Thank you." In a sudden motion I raise my right hoof into the air almost hitting his nose in the process. “Now, give proper appreciation to all the hard work I did to make your presents."

His eyes bounce between the painted on mistletoe above his head and my left hoof laying on his lap.

“You want me to kiss your…"

I bring my left hoof up and hold it in the air in front of him.

“You like my hooves so much you shouldn't have any problems showing them your affection. Those presents are for you, kiss them."

“…Okay." He says after a brief moment of indecision.

With one hand he gently grabs my digitigrade ankle and with the other he holds my hoof by its bottom. Slowly, he brings the shiny black hoof up to his lips and plants tender kisses across its front, making sure each inch got at least one. While I can't feel the sensation of his lips against my dense keratin it doesn't change the fact that this act of foreplay is doing an excellent job of getting me all hot and bothered, the rapidly growing wetness in my panties a physical sign of my arousal. There's just something about the sight of a cute little humie practically worshipping a furred beasts' hooves that seems so unnatural, yet also so undeniably kinky. Satisfied, I lower it and allow him to pepper the other hoof with kisses. He repeats the same motions and I retract my legs from his lap.

“Good boy, finally showing my poor hooves the appreciation they deserve. Now it's time for you to show your appreciation for the rest of my body." I say, getting up off the couch.

I take a couple steps backwards towards the fire then stop. Reaching behind I undo my bra and let it fall to the ground, my sensitive teats hardening now that they're exposed to the air. I unhook the panties from my stockings and wiggle them down my legs. When they're all the way down I pick them up and, yep, there's a massive wet spot from when he was kissing my hooves. God, I'm such a hopeless deviant. Whatever, that just means Michael might have a reason to take these home at the end of tonight, if I feel like letting him. I ball the panties up in my fist then Michael speaks up.

“Leaving the stockings on?"

“Yes, not that you would know but sliding stockings up digitigrade legs like mine is a real pain in the ass, getting them off isn't any easier. Besides, I already have all the bits of me uncovered that I want uncovered." I cock my head, eyes locked onto the suspicious bulge in his pants. “I see you have a present for me beneath your boxers. You going to unwrap it, or should I?" I say, twirling my sharp claws in the air.

Getting the message he begins furiously taking his clothing off and throwing it onto the floor. In record time he's butt naked and standing up in front of me, his erection standing proud.

“So, we going to the bedroom or…" He trails off waiting for me to answer.

Instead of responding I simply walk forward and smush my used panties against his face, pushing him back down into a sitting position on the couch. After he lands I get on the couch on top of him, my butt resting on his knees.

“No, we're doing it here." I push my panties into his face even harder as he's forced to take a few deep inhales. “What do you smell Michael?"

“You, I smell you. Jesus, these panties are absolutely drenched in your scent."

“Right, how else is a poor sow like me supposed to respond when a cute little humie like you does something as lovingly obscene as kiss her hooves? It's just my body's way of preparing itself for what…comes…next."

I reach a hand downwards and grab his hard cock. Teasingly I begin slowly rubbing up and down its length eliciting small gasps from Michael as he inhales even more of my soaked panties. After a few more strokes I determine that it wasn't going to get any harder than it already was and stop, removing my panties from his face finally allowing him some fresh air. With one hand on his cock I look down and align myself with his penis, slowly guiding myself downward until fully hilted. His manhood fills the emptiness between my legs and I begin a steady up and down, both of my hands gripping his shoulders as he grab my hips.

As I keep the rhythm going his hands slowly trail up my furry body, up from my hips, past my sides, onto my ribs, then onto my breasts. His thumbs tease each nipple as they work their way up each set, ending on the largest pair at the top. His palm cups my breasts and thumbs work slow circles around my tender flesh. In response my grip on his shoulder grows tighter and my claws threaten to break his skin, the tidal wave of sensations going through my brain dulling my sense of self control.

Before I reach my peak Michael suddenly repositions his hands back onto my hips. I can already tell what's about to happen just by the look on his face.

“Ms. Boarson I'm gonna-“

I silence him with a finger on the lips and slow my pace just a touch.

“I know Michael. Just let it happen, I won't stop smashing our hips together until we're both satisfied."

He gives a quick shake of the head and leans back into the couch. I quicken my pace again and feel his hips begin to buck against mine. It doesn't take long before he lets out a blissful moan and I feel my insides suddenly warm by a few degrees and a new slickness drip down my thighs. I smirk and increase my pace further. Coming down from his high Michael looks at me, an almost pained expression on his face.

“Uhh, how much longer?"

“Until I cum, idiot."

“And how close are you?"

I grab his hands and plant back onto my swinging breasts.

“Still got a ways to go, but maybe you can hurry me along."

Getting the idea he begins teasing my nipples again with increased fervor. In honesty I was very close to cumming, this little bit of extra stimulation the final push I needed. Feeling my peak incoming I increase my pace for a few rounds then rapidly slow down, my hips forcefully pounding into his as I fully hilt myself on his cock each time. As I orgasm a sound halfway between a squeal and a moan escapes my muzzle and stars fill my vision. My pace devolves into a few halfhearted thrusts and eventually I stop, utterly spent. As we sit on the couch panting Michael lazily leans up, eyes only halfway held open.

“God Ms. Boarson, I think you rode me raw."

“What? Not ready for round two yet?"

He rapidly shakes his head side to side.

“I-I think I need a quick break first, and some water."

“Water? Screw that, how does some hot chocolate sound instead?"

“Ya, that sounds good."

I run my fingers through his scalp and sigh.

“I'll make it later though. I think we both need a breather."

“Good idea."

I lean forward and wrap my hands around his back, his face smushed into my breasts. I rest my head on the top of the couch and he lazily rubs my back. As we rest his hands slowly trail down my back until resting on the base of my tail.

“Don't even think about it." I say with a low growl.

“Think about what?"

“Pulling my tail. It's off limits, even for you."

“I wasn't going to do that!"

“Then put your hands somewhere else." I snap back.

“O-okay." He says, his hands quickly shifted further up my body.

“Better." I respond with a pleased sigh. “You know Michael, I think you may have to spend the night at my house."

“Ms. Boarson please, I don't think I have the stamina to keep up with you all night. My squishy body can't take that kind of punishment."

I giggle and lean back, playfully poking him in the cheek with a tusk.

“I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about the fact that it's a blizzard outside and you'd have to walk home. Being the responsible boss I am I simply couldn't let you do that, it's far too dangerous. Not to mention that your medical plan doesn't cover frostbite caused by impromptu cake delivery."

“Oh. Well in that case I guess it's a good thing I brought so much cake over, we can eat it together."

“Right. We can sing some Christmas carols, drink some hot cocoa, watch some holiday movies, eat the cake, then you can get back to doing what you do best."

“And what would that be?"

I chuckle before answering.

“Worshipping my hooves…elf boy."