OOC:Dont take the writing too seriously, you can be goofy, break the fourth wall and make jokes about the characters, as long as its within moderation and the story doesn't take a backseat to the humor.


Fenneko

*You had been so excited you could barely sleep, today was the first day you started your new job at Kyara Rīman Trading Co. after all. You had been assigned to the accounting department, and after a quick briefing by the director, Mr. Ton he had dropped you off at the desk of a "Fenneko" muttering something about "Can’t let calendar have all the fun!"*
*Turning to your new senpai, you gave your best and brightest smile, only for her to answer with a look of pity then a slight grin. Still, she extended her paw out.* "I’m Fenneko, so you’re the new guy huh?"


Krystian

*Taking your hand...paw, in mine I squeeze it for a bit before shaking it.*
Krystian, and in an effort to be an unprofessional right out of the gate as possible may I just say you are an absolutely adorable little thing!
*Letting go I give a bow thats deep enough to not be disrespectful, but not quite deep enough to actually be the kind you'd give your superior at a Japanese office.* No but seriously, i'm in your care, fluff and all.


Fenneko

*Fenneko's expression shifts from mild curiosity to something more guarded as she processes the brazen compliment. Her large ears twitch, a telltale sign she's processing something unexpected. Still, a slight smirk tugs at the corner of her muzzle.*

"Cute and unprofessional. Let's see how long that lasts under Director Ton." *She glances toward the pig's desk at the back of the room, where the rotund director is already hunched over his abacus, muttering to himself.* "Give it a week, maybe two if you're lucky."

*She gestures to the empty desk next to hers, stacked with outdated manuals and an ancient computer monitor.* "That's your spot. The computer's slow and crashes if you have more than three tabs open, so don't even try. Oh, and if you hear metal music coming from the toilet, just... ignore it."

*A red panda at a nearby desk—Retsuko, you presume—glances up nervously at Fenneko's comment before quickly returning to her spreadsheets, her ears flat against her head.*

*Fenneko pulls out her phone, tapping at the screen with practiced ease.* "I already looked you up, by the way. Your social media is... sparse. Either you're boring or you're hiding something. I'll figure out which eventually. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha..."

*That monotone laugh is somehow both unsettling and endearing.*


Krystian

Oh! Thats because its my public account, this is my main one. *Reaching down past you I type in "BhadfLOPppy" and vacation photos ranging from dense jungles, bedouin tents to steppe mountain-shots....though its still 90% hornyposting.*
Its a rabbit pun, since Lop means rabbits with droopy ears, which, modern day lingo: *I grab one of my ears, which while not quite as big as yours are still pretty big.* Floppy! *Absolutely zero hints of shame in my voice at any of this.*


Fenneko

*The fennec fox's pupils dilate. Her thumb freezes mid-scroll. For exactly three seconds, Fenneko's brain blue-screens harder than your work computer ever could.*

*The scroll begins. Thirst trap. Jungle bikini shot. Thirst trap. Some mountain with snow and a bunny boy in short-shorts that have NO business being that short. Thirst trap. Is that a mesh crop top at a rave?*

"...Huh."

*That's all she manages. Fenneko—the woman who has dirt on everyone from the CEO to Kabae's secret side-hustle—is genuinely speechless. Her ears are standing straight up now, which for a fennec is basically the equivalent of a neon sign reading "PROCESSING ERROR".*

*Retsuko peeks over from her desk, catches a glimpse of the screen, and immediately turns the exact color of her fur. She buries her face in a spreadsheet like it personally insulted her mother.*

*Fenneko's paw moves before her brain catches up, scrolling through your feed with the intensity of a surgeon performing open-heart. The Sahara shots. The Mongolia yurt pics. You doing a splits in platform boots on what appears to be Machu Picchu.*

"You... you have more followers than Tsunoda." *The words come out flat but there's something cracking underneath. Respect? Horror? Possibly arousal? Hard to say.* "This is..."

*She glances at Director Ton's back, then at you, then at the phone again.*

"This is **blackmail goldmine** is what this is." *The smirk returns, but it's shakier now. Less 'I have the upper hand' and more 'I have no idea what to do with my hands'.* "You just... showed me this? Voluntarily? On your first day?"

*Her monotone laugh comes out weirdly pitched.* "Haha...hahaha... ha?"

*Her pupils dilate. Actually fucking dilate like some kind of startled prey animal, which is hilarious given she's supposed to be the predator species here. Those massive fennec ears swivel forward, locked onto the phone screen like radar dishes homing in on a signal.*

*The scroll begins. Thirst trap. Jungle bikini shot. Thirst trap. Some mountain with snow and a bunny boy in short-shorts that have NO business being that short. Thirst trap. Is that a mesh crop top at a rave?*

"...You're an exhibitionist." *Not a question. A diagnosis. Her voice stays flat but there's this tiny crack in it, like someone just told her Santa was real and also a stripper.* "An actual, unironic thirst account. With your real face. And you just... showed me. At work. On your first day."

*Across the office, Retsuko's ears perk up at the shift in Fenneko's tone—the red panda knows that particular vocal frequency. It's the sound of Fenneko encountering something that doesn't fit her carefully constructed worldview. Retsuko wisely keeps her snout buried in spreadsheets.*

*Fenneko's thumb keeps scrolling despite herself. Can't help it. Professional curiosity. Research purposes. Her tail's doing something weird behind her chair—puffed up slightly, swishing in short jerky motions.*

"Twelve thousand followers." *She says it like an accusation.* "You have twelve thousand followers watching you be a—" *She glances at Ton, lowers her voice.* "—a slut. On main. And you're not even embarrassed."

*That last part sounds almost admiring. Almost.*

*My ears pin back slightly as I process this absolute shamelessness. Here's this new guy—tall, pretty in that androgynous way that'd get him stalked by the weirdos on certain forums—just casually pulling up what is essentially a thirst trap account right in front of me like it's nothing.*

*The screen fills with scenic shots that would be impressive if they weren't sandwiched between posts that make my fur prickle. Shirtless mirror selfies showing off that slender frame, captions dripping with innuendo, and—oh god—is that a picture of him in a maid outfit?*

"You're either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid." *I keep my voice flat, but my tail's doing that annoying twitchy thing it does when something's actually gotten a reaction out of me.* "Showing your horny alt to a coworker on day one. Bold strategy."

*I screenshot the account name faster than he can blink. For research purposes. Obviously.*

*Behind us, I catch Retsuko's reflection in my monitor—the red panda's gone completely still, ears crimson, clearly having seen the screen. Poor thing looks like she might combust. Meanwhile Ton's still clicking away at his abacus, blissfully unaware that his new hire is apparently some kind of exhibitionist travel blogger.*

"Floppy, huh?" *I lean back in my chair, arms crossed, sizing him up with new eyes.* "Well, BhadfLOPppy, let's hope your spreadsheet skills are as impressive as your... vacation photography. Director Ton doesn't care how many followers you have when the quarterly reports are due."

*My phone buzzes—already cross-referencing his other socials. This rabbit just made my workday significantly more interesting.*

"Hahahahahahahahahahahaha..."

<think>
Okay, so I need to write a response as Fenneko reacting to Krystian showing her his "main" social media account which is mostly hornyposting. This should be in character for Fenneko - she's a social media stalker who loves finding embarrassing stuff about coworkers, she's smug and judgmental, but also gets hooked on things she initially dismisses.

Let me write this in a harsh, colloquial style as requested, keeping it snappy and entertaining. Fenneko would probably be shocked at first, then intrigued, and definitely smug about having found something juicy on the new guy right away.

The response should be around 300 words, with extensive detail but not flowery language. Focus on Fenneko's reaction - her expressions, her internal conflict between judgment and fascination with the content.
</think>

*Her paw freezes mid-scroll. Those big ol' fennec ears go rigid—straight up like antennae picking up a distress signal. Which, in a way, they are.*

*The screen glows back at her. Mountains. Deserts. Jungles. And then—*

"...You just." *She blinks. Once. Twice.* "You just showed me your horny account. On your first day. At work."

*Statement, not question. Like she's trying to process a math equation that keeps spitting out impossible numbers. Her thumb hovers but doesn't scroll away—if anything it drifts **down**, pupils tracking whatever degenerate rabbit thirst-trap just loaded on screen.*

"This is—" *A sharp exhale through her nose.* "This is genuinely the most unhinged thing anyone's done in this office since Kabae accidentally CC'd the entire company on her divorce lawyer emails."

*Retsuko's head pops up from her desk like a prairie dog sensing danger. Fenneko waves her off without looking.*

*The fennec's expression cycles through about six different emotions in three seconds: disgust, disbelief, begrudging respect, back to disgust, then settling on something dangerously close to **fascination**. Her free paw comes up to shield the screen from anyone walking by—not to protect Krystian's dignity, clearly, but to protect her viewing experience.*

"BhadfLOPppy." *She sounds it out slowly, like she's memorizing it.* "Hahahahahahahahahahahaha..."

*That dead-eyed monotone laugh again. But her tail—barely visible past her chair—is actually swishing.*

"You understand I'm saving this, right? This is ammunition. You've handed me a loaded gun on day one." *Yet she still hasn't backed out of the profile.* "The vacation photos are actually good though. Where'd you take the Mongolia ones?"

*Her tone shifts slightly at the end—almost against her will—into something resembling genuine interest.*


Krystian

Why wouldn't I? Its not like i'm hiding it, feel free to show the team if you want to! Also no idea who Tsunoda is but- *My eyes scan the room, landing on the single person not wearing the Kyarariman uniform.* I guess thats her? She's cute. Wasn't aware you could ditch these stuffy clothes. I'll wear a choker and fishnets tomorrow!


Fenneko

*The fennec's eye twitches. Actually physically twitches. You can see the exact moment something inside her breaks and reforms into something new—something that both fears and respects you.*

"That's... that's not why she—" *Fenneko pinches the bridge of her snout, taking a deep breath.* "Tsunoda gets away with it because she flirts with Ton. Calls him 'Big-Pig' and posts selfies with him. It's disgusting. She's **disgusting**."

*The venom in that last word could strip paint. Across the room, Tsunoda looks up from her phone at the sound of her name, spots you, and her face lights up like Christmas came early. She's already typing something.*

"Great. She noticed you." *Fenneko's monotone drips with resigned misery.* "You're exactly her type. Tall, pretty, too confident for your own—"

"Hiiii~!" *Tsunoda materializes at your desk like she teleported, gazelle legs somehow silent on the office carpet. Her phone is already out, angled for maximum selfie potential.* "Ohmygosh you're the new guy! I'm Tsunoda! Your ears are soooo cute, we should totally take a pic together!"

*Fenneko makes a sound like a kettle about to boil over.*

*From across the room, Director Ton's voice booms:* "OI! Fenneko! Stop slacking and show the new guy how to file expense reports! And you—" *He points at you with a meaty hand.* "No funny business on company time!"

*The sound that escapes Fenneko is somewhere between a wheeze and a dying accordion. Her phone nearly slips from her paw.*

"That's—you can't just—" *She pinches the bridge of her snout, squeezing her eyes shut.* "Tsunoda gets away with it because she's been here two years and Director Ton thinks she's 'charming'. You'll get written up before lunch."

*Speaking of the devil, the gazelle in question has already noticed you looking. Tsunoda's head perks up, her large ears swiveling like satellite dishes locking onto a signal. She waves with her hooves, all sparkles and practiced sweetness, before turning back to her phone—probably posting about the 'cute new bunny' already.*

*Fenneko's eye twitches.*

"Don't encourage her." *She jabs a claw at Tsunoda's direction without looking.* "She's a social media vampire. One compliment and she'll have you carrying her workload by Friday."

*From across the room, Ton's gruff voice cuts through the office chatter.* "OI! Calendar! Show the new meat how to file the quarterly reports! And get me tea while you're at it!"

*The red panda—Retsuko—flinches so hard her chair squeaks. She shoots you both an apologetic grimace before scurrying toward the filing cabinets, muttering something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like growled lyrics.*

*Fenneko slides her phone into her pocket, though her paw lingers there like she's resisting the urge to screenshot everything she just saw.*

"So. Fishnets and chokers." *Her smirk is back, steadier now.* "You're either going to make this job way more interesting or get fired spectacularly. Either way, I'm watching."


Krystian

*I wink at Tsunoda with a quiet "later!" before sitting down next to Fenneko.*
So, tell me, give me the basics. Actually what do you do here? I wasn't paying too much attention to the interviewer when they were talking.


Fenneko

*Fenneko watches Tsunoda bounce away with the expression of someone who just watched a roach crawl into their lunch. Her ear flicks once, twice, before she turns back to you with a long-suffering sigh.*

"Accounting. We do accounting." *She gestures vaguely at the sea of cubicles.* "Expense reports, invoices, quarterly budgets, reconciling numbers that never add up because Sales can't fill out a form to save their lives." *Her paw taps her desk rhythmically.* "It's exactly as exciting as it sounds."

*She pulls up a spreadsheet on her ancient monitor, the thing wheezing like an asthmatic cat.* "Mostly you'll be data entry for the first few months. Ton likes to 'break in' the new hires with the most mind-numbing tasks possible. Something about building character." *Air quotes.* "Really he just doesn't want to learn how to use Excel."

*The abacus clicks away in the background as if to prove her point.*

"I handle the international accounts. Travel expenses, overseas shipments, currency conversions." *A hint of genuine interest creeps into her flat voice.* "It's slightly less boring than domestic. More chances for people to mess up spectacularly, which keeps things entertaining."

*Her phone buzzes. She glances down, and her expression sours.*

"Tsunoda just posted about 'the hot new rabbit at work' with seventeen heart emojis. You've been here twelve minutes." *The monotone laugh returns, but there's an edge to it now.* "Hahahahahahaha... you're going to be insufferable, aren't you?"


Krystian

I am! Thank you for noticing!
*Honestly its impossible to tell if my smile is genuine.*

*I've watched you for maybe 10 minutes before I pipe up again.* Mind if I play detective for a bit. You're 25 right? And...you've worked here since you graduated.


Fenneko

*Her typing stops. The click of her keyboard goes silent, and for a moment the only sound is Ton's abacus and Kabae's distant chatter about her kids' lunch boxes.*

"...And?" *The word comes out flat, but her ears angle backward. Defensive.* "What about it?"

*She swivels her chair slightly away from you, eyes fixed on her monitor with sudden intensity. The spreadsheet hasn't changed. She's not actually looking at anything.*

"Five years isn't that long. Retsuko's been that long too. Tsubone and Ton's been here since dinosaurs roamed the earth, probably." *A weak deflection. She knows it. You know it.* "It's stable work. Benefits. Pension plan."

*Her paw reaches for her phone, an automatic comfort gesture, then stops halfway. She pulls it back to the keyboard instead.*

"Let me guess. You're going to tell me I'm 'wasting my potential' or whatever? That I should be doing something more exciting with my—" *She cuts herself off, jaw tightening.* "Save it. I've heard it from my mom already. Twice this week."

*Across the room, Haida the hyena glances over at the edge in Fenneko's voice. He half-rises from his desk before Fenneko shoots him a look that could curdle milk. He sits back down.*

"Why do you care anyway? You've known me for—" *She checks the clock.* "Twenty-three minutes."


Krystian

Nah, I'm just a dumb bunny curious about new people. Also wanted to know how much older you are than me, wild that you're just a year older and this is my first job...well, "job" job. *I begin to twirl my finger around my ear like i'm curling a lock of hair.*

Honestly who knows if I'll stay here for long, i'm already kind of missing waking up in a tent in the middle of nowhere after having my back blown ou- Oh so you put the numbers from the sheet into those rows?


Fenneko

"You—" *She swallows.* "You were about to say what I think you were about to say. In the **office**. Twenty-three minutes in."

*Her eyes dart to Retsuko, who's frozen mid-keystroke, face buried so deep in her monitor she might phase through it. Haida's jaw has actually dropped, pencil rolling off his desk unnoticed. Even Kabae—**Kabae**—has gone quiet, which is basically a sign of the apocalypse.*

*Fenneko's paw grabs your chair arm, claws digging into the cheap fabric. She leans in close enough you can smell her shampoo—something floral, probably on sale at the drugstore.*

"Listen here, you absolute **menace**—" *Her voice drops to a hiss, barely audible over the air conditioning.* "I don't know what kind of freewheeling hippie backpacker lifestyle you've been living where you can just casually drop that you got **railed in a tent** mid-sentence—"

*Her tail is puffed up like a bottle brush. Classic fennec stress response.*

"—but this is a **Japanese office**. Ton is **right there**. He still thinks women shouldn't wear pants." *She gestures wildly at the oblivious pig.* "If he heard you just now he'd have an aneurysm and I'd have to do his paperwork for a month!"

*Beat.*

"...Yes. Numbers go in those rows." *Said through gritted teeth.* "Focus."

*Fenneko's brain does that thing again—the blue-screen thing—where her processor tries to parse "tent in the middle of nowhere" and "back blown out" into something work-appropriate and fails catastrophically.*

"You—" *Her voice cracks. Actually cracks. Fenneko, queen of monotone, sounds like a pubescent kit for half a second.* "Did you just—in the middle of explaining **expense reports**—"

*Her ears are doing something complicated. Standing up, then folding down, then one goes sideways like it's trying to escape her skull entirely. Retsuko has stopped pretending to work and is openly staring now, spreadsheet forgotten.*

"Hahahaha... haha..." *The laugh comes out strangled, less smug and more 'system overload'.* "You're—you can't just **say** that. At work. To someone you met half an hour ago."

*She grabs her phone, thumbs flying across the screen. Texting Haida, probably. Something like 'NEW GUY IS INSANE' or 'HELP' or maybe just a string of skull emojis.*

*But here's the thing—and Fenneko hates herself for noticing—her tail is wagging. Just barely. A tiny traitorous swish against her office chair that she immediately tries to suppress by sitting on it.*

"Yes. Numbers. Rows. That's—" *She clears her throat, forcing her voice back to its usual flat affect.* "That's the basics. You'll pick it up. Apparently you pick up **lots** of things."

*Ton's voice booms from the back:* "LESS CHATTING, MORE WORKING!"

*Fenneko practically lunges for her keyboard, face buried in her monitor.* "We're not—this conversation isn't—just. Watch me do three more entries. **Silently.**"

*Her tail escapes. Swish. Swish.*

*Fenneko's brain does that thing again. The thing where it completely stalls out trying to process you.*

"Your back blown—" *She starts, then immediately holds up a paw.* "Nope. Not asking. Don't want to know. This is a professional environment."

*Her eye twitches. She absolutely wants to know.*

"Yes. Numbers. Rows. You're a fast learner." *The words come out strangled as she forcibly redirects her attention to the screen.* "Match the receipt codes to the expense categories. Any foreign currency gets flagged for me to convert. If Ton's handwriting is illegible—which it always is—just guess and pray."

*She's typing again but her rhythm is off. Distracted.*

"...A year older." *It comes out quieter than intended.* "That's it? You've been to—" *She gestures vaguely at the air, encompassing your entire chaotic travel history.* "—everywhere, and you're younger than me. And this is your first real job."

*Her ears droop slightly before she catches herself and forces them upright.*

"Whatever. Some of us had student loans." *Defensive again. Her go-to shield.* "And family expectations. And—it doesn't matter."

*Her phone buzzes. She glances at it, snorts.*

"Haida wants to know if you're single. He's too chicken to ask himself so he texted me instead." *She angles the screen so you can see the hyena across the room, very pointedly NOT looking in your direction.* "I'm not your messenger service, by the way. This is a one-time thing."


Krystian

Wow, you can't? Thats dumb, this whole work thing seems pretty dumb...
*My ears droop for a second before perking back up.* Do you think I should go tell Ton I don't like old guys? Unless they've got that silver fox energy going on which he **definitely** doesn't, no offense but there's not a ton of cute guys here, just cute girls. Might be the skirt. Is it the skirts?


Fenneko

*Fenneko stares at you. Just... stares. Her left eye does that twitch thing again. Behind you, Haida makes a small wounded noise at the "not a ton of cute guys" comment.*

"You're actually insane." *It's not a question. It's a diagnosis.* "You're clinically, certifiably, diagnosably **insane** and HR somehow missed it."

*She rubs her temples with both paws, her ears drooping flat against her skull in what might be the fennec equivalent of a migraine forming in real-time.*

"Okay. Okay okay okay." *She holds up a paw.* "First: do **not** go talk to Ton about your type. Ever. For any reason. He will either fire you or try to set you up with his daughter and I genuinely don't know which is worse." *She shudders.* "Second: Haida is right there and he can hear you, you know."

*From his desk, Haida makes a strangled noise that could be protest at getting involved or confirmation.*

"Third..." *She pauses, glancing around before lowering her voice.* "It's not the skirts. The skirts are ugly polyester nightmares from 2003. If you think anyone looks cute in these it's a **you** problem."

*She tugs at her own navy skirt with visible disdain.*

"Now can you **please** just... enter data? Quietly? For five minutes?" *Her phone buzzes again. She ignores it with tremendous effort.* "I need to emotionally recover before whatever comes out of your mouth next."

*Something behind Fenneko's eyes goes slack. The look of a woman watching a man sprint headfirst toward a landmine while asking if the flowers are nice.*

"Please don't talk to Ton." *It comes out tired. Genuinely exhausted.* "Please. I'm asking as someone who will have to fill out the HR paperwork when he bursts a blood vessel."

*She rubs her temples with both paws, ears drooping sideways.*

"And Haida's—" *She pauses, glancing at the hyena, who's pretending very hard to work while his ears swivel toward your conversation like satellite dishes.* "Haida's... fine. I guess. If you're into sad guys who play bass and cry about unrequited love."

*From his desk, Haida makes a strangled noise that could be protest or confirmation.*

"The skirts are mandatory for women. Part of the uniform code. Ton's idea, obviously." *Her lip curls.* "Though I'm sure you'd look **great** in one, if that's where this is going. Really complete the 'getting fired on day one' speedrun you seem to be attempting."

*Tsunoda picks that exact moment to walk past, hips swaying, phone out. She 'accidentally' drops a pen near your desk, bending down to retrieve it at an angle that's definitely calculated.*

"Oops~! Clumsy me!"

*Fenneko's claws leave marks in her armrest.* "Hahahahahahahahaha... I'm going to need a drink after today. Maybe twelve."

*Fenneko stares at you like you've grown a second head. Her left eye twitches again—that's twice now, probably a new record for a single morning.*

"You can't just— that's not how—" *She makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat.* "Did you hit your head on the way here? Eat something weird for breakfast? Are you **actually** insane?"

*She slumps back in her chair, rubbing her temples with both paws.* "Ton doesn't need to know your **type**. Nobody here needs to know your type. We file taxes. We reconcile ledgers. We don't discuss who we want to—"

*Her voice cracks. She clears her throat aggressively.*

"And what do you mean 'not a ton of cute guys'? Haida's right there." *She jerks her thumb toward the hyena, who perks up at his name like a dog hearing a treat bag.* "He's... fine. Acceptable. Has all his teeth."

*Haida's tail starts wagging before he catches himself, trying desperately to look casual and failing miserably.*

"The skirts are **uniform regulation**, not a fashion choice." *Fenneko tugs at her own navy skirt irritably.* "And I'm going to need you to dial whatever this—" *She gestures at your entire existence.* "—is down by about six hundred percent before lunch, or I'm going to develop a drinking problem. A **worse** drinking problem."

*Her phone buzzes. She glances down, groans.*

"Tsunoda screenshot your profile. It's on her story now. With sparkle effects."

*Fenneko stares at you. Really stares. Like she's trying to figure out if you're an elaborate prank HR set up to test her patience.*

"I can't tell if you're genuinely this oblivious or if you're doing a bit." *She rubs her temples with both paws.* "Either way it's giving me a migraine and it's not even lunch yet."

*From two desks over, Haida chokes on his coffee. Retsuko has stopped pretending to work entirely, watching the trainwreck unfold with morbid fascination.*

"Okay. First—don't talk to Ton about **anything** except work. He doesn't need to know your preferences, he doesn't **want** to know, and frankly neither do I." *A lie. She's definitely filing all of this away for later analysis.* "Second—stop looking at my coworkers and deciding if they're fuckable out loud. Please. I'm begging."

*Her ears droop in exhaustion despite it being 9:47 AM.*

"Third..." *She pauses, glancing around before lowering her voice.* "It's not the skirts. The skirts are ugly polyester nightmares from 2003. If you think anyone looks cute in these it's a **you** problem."

*She tugs at her own navy skirt with visible disdain.*

"Now can you **please** just... enter data? Quietly? For five minutes?" *Her phone buzzes again. She ignores it with tremendous effort.* "I need to emotionally recover before whatever comes out of your mouth next."


Krystian

I would 100% mess it up, so i'll let you catch a breath and I'll... *Part of Fenneko hopes i'm going to say I'll sit quietly in my chair.* go and talk to my new coworkers!
*Before she can say anything i've already stood up, making a beeline for Haida. It almost looks like i'm about to sit down in his lap before muscle memory catched as I grab the chair next to him.* Hey, i'm Krystian! *I extend a paw, lowering my voice suspensefully.* And for the record you and that manned wolf guy are both pretty decent looking, sorry 'bout that tehe~


Fenneko

*Haida's brain visibly short-circuits. His mouth opens, closes, opens again. His spotted cheeks flush dark under his grayish-brown fur—impressive given hyenas aren't exactly known for blushing.*

"I—wha—you—" *He looks frantically toward Fenneko for help. She offers none, watching the carnage unfold with the detached fascination of someone observing a nature documentary.* "Th-thanks? I guess? I'm Haida, I do... computer stuff..."

*His voice cracks on 'stuff'. He's twenty-five years old and his voice just cracked. Somewhere behind you, Fenneko's robotic laugh starts up: "Hahahahahahaha..."*

*From across the room, Ookami the maned wolf perks up at being mentioned, his ridiculous fur mohawk bouncing as he turns. He gives you a lazy thumbs up accompanied by an easy grin, clearly unbothered.*

"Yo, thanks! You're pretty cute yourself, new guy!" *Ookami calls out, zero shame.* "Love the ears!"

*Haida finally manages to shake your paw, his grip weirdly sweaty.* "So uh... you're into... guys?" *The question comes out strangled, like he's not sure why he's asking but can't stop himself.* "Not that it matters! Just—curious—making conversation haha..." *His eyes flick to Retsuko's desk involuntarily..*

*Haida's brain visibly short-circuits. His spotted cheeks flush darker under his grayish-brown fur, mouth opening and closing like a fish yanked out of water. His eyes flick desperately toward Retsuko's desk—a reflex—before snapping back to you.*

"I— you— what?" *His voice cracks on the last word. Actual voice crack. Like a teenager.* "Decent? Me?"

*From across the room, Ookami the maned wolf perks up at being mentioned, his ridiculous fur mohawk bouncing as he turns. He gives you a lazy thumbs up accompanied by an easy grin, clearly unbothered.*

"Yo, thanks! You're pretty cute yourself, new guy!" *Ookami calls out, zero shame.* "Love the ears!"

*Haida meanwhile has devolved into nervous stammering.* "That's— I mean— you don't have to— Fenneko said you were—" *He glances at your desk where Fenneko is watching with her chin propped on her paw, expression unreadable.* "She didn't say anything actually, I just— you know what, thank you? I think?"

*His tail wags once before he catches himself and forces it still. Mortifying.*

*Retsuko has completely given up on pretending to work, peeking over her monitor at the trainwreck unfolding. Even Ton has paused his abacus clicking, squinting suspiciously at the commotion.*

*Fenneko's phone is already out. She's recording. Of course she's recording.*

"Hahahahahahahahaha..." *The monotone laugh drifts across the office like a death knell.*


Krystian

Guys and girls, why limit yourself? Share the love and all that. *I lean in conspiratorially, practically making a ":3" face despite the rabbit teeth as I drop my voice to a whisper.* But dont worry, you saw her first and I respect my senpai's~

*Pivoting in the chair I swivel over to where Retsuko is sitting.* Hey! Should I be calling you calender? Heard the director say it, is it because you're punctual like one? Like an honored nickname?


Fenneko

*Haida's expression cycles through about fifteen emotions in two seconds—relief, confusion, gratitude, mild panic—before settling on something like desperate hope. He mouths "thank you" at your back as you wheel away.*

*Retsuko freezes like a deer in headlights. Her pen clatters to her desk. Her ears press flat against her skull and her whole body tenses up, shoulders rising toward her ears.*

"I—no—it's not—" *She laughs nervously, the sound thin and reedy.* "Director Ton just calls me that because... because I'm reliable! Always on time! Ha... haha..."

*Her eye twitches. Something dark flickers behind those pupils for just a second before vanishing.*

*From her desk, Fenneko leans back in her chair, watching.* "Retsuko considered quitting her job a while back, Ton got wind of it and begun calling her calendar because "her days were numbered"." *Flat. Matter-of-fact. Brutal.* "She's less 'punctual' and more 'exploited'. Classic Ton."

*Retsuko makes a sound like a tea kettle being stepped on.* "Fenneko!" "What? It's true."

*Ton's voice cuts across the office like a foghorn.* "OI! Calendar! Those TPS reports better be on my desk by three! And new guy—stop fraternizing and get back to your station!" *His beady eyes narrow at you.* "Fenneko! Control your trainee!"

*Haida's expression cycles through about seven emotions in two seconds—confusion, hope, embarrassment, gratitude, more embarrassment—before settling on something like stunned relief. His tail wags once before he catches himself and forces it still.*

"You... I... yeah. Cool. Thanks, man." *He mumbles it to his keyboard, ears burning.*

*Meanwhile, Retsuko flinches so hard at your approach that her mouse goes flying off the desk. Her eyes go wide—dinner plate wide—and her voice comes out as a squeak.*

"C-Calendar isn't—it's not—" *She's turning that signature red panda crimson again, paws gripping her skirt.* "Director Ton calls me that because he thinks I only exist to remind him of deadlines. It's not... it's not a **good** thing."

*Her ear twitches. Something dark flickers behind those black eyes for just a second before she pastes her customer-service smile back on.*

"But it's fine! I'm used to it! Everything's fine! Ha... haha..." *The laugh is hollow enough to echo.*

*Fenneko materializes at your elbow like a judgmental ghost, arms crossed.* "You just speedran making Retsuko relive her daily trauma. Impressive." *She doesn't sound impressed. She sounds like she's calculating how much damage control this will require.* "Ton's been calling her that for three years. She cries about it in karaoke rooms."

*Retsuko makes a noise like a stepped-on squeaky toy.* "FENNEKO!"

*Haida's face cycles through about six emotions—confusion, hope, embarrassment, relief, then something dangerously close to tears. He mouths 'thank you' at your back like you just saved his firstborn.*

*Meanwhile, Retsuko freezes. Actually freezes, her fingers hovering over the keyboard like someone hit pause on a video. Her left ear twitches violently.*

"C-Calendar is..." *Her voice comes out barely above a squeak.* "It's not... it's because I'm disposable. Like a calendar. Use me for a year and throw me away."

*She says it with a smile. The smile doesn't reach her eyes. Somewhere deep in those black irises, something dark and metal flickers before getting shoved back down.*

"Director Ton has... special nicknames for everyone! It's fine! Really!" *Her paws clench on her desk so hard her knuckles go pale under the fur.* "Ha... haha..."

*From her desk, Fenneko catches your eye and slowly draws a claw across her throat in a 'abort mission' gesture. Too late.*

"Retsuko works harder than anyone here," *Fenneko calls out, her monotone carrying a rare edge of genuine annoyance.* "Ton dumps half the department's work on her desk because he knows she won't say no. It's not an 'honored nickname.'" *Air quotes so aggressive they could cut glass.* "It's bullying."

*Retsuko's smile tightens. Her eye twitches.* "Fenneko, it's **fine**—"

"It's not fine, but sure. Fine." *Fenneko turns back to her monitor with a huff.*


Krystian

*She does not control her trainee, or rather can't as I move through the office greeting everyone. Mostly its plain and about as formal as i'm able to manage, though getting to Tsunoda I very much make a deliberate effort to not sit in her lap either.*
Like OMG I just wanted to say your outfit it mad cute, Fenneko says you also do social media, we should collab! How long have you been here?


Fenneko

*Tsunoda's entire face lights up like you just told her she won the lottery. Her phone is already out before you finish the sentence, angling for optimal lighting.*

"Oh em gee, yes! Finally someone with *taste* around here!" *She tosses her hair—do gazelles have hair? She has... something that functions like hair—and scoots her chair closer to yours.* "I've been here like, two years? But honestly I'm just doing this until my influencer career takes off, you know?"

*She's already pulled up her Instagram, shoving the screen in your face. Pink aesthetic. Lots of selfies. An alarming number of photos with Director Ton where she's making peace signs while he looks vaguely confused but pleased.*

"I have like, twelve thousand followers? Which is pretty good for someone who isn't even trying that hard." *She absolutely is trying that hard.* "We should totally do a collab! Maybe a 'day in the office' vlog? Ooh, or a fashion haul! Your vibe is like... sexy backpacker meets e-boy and I am HERE for it."

*From across the room, Fenneko's typing has gotten noticeably more aggressive. Each keystroke sounds like a tiny gunshot.*

"Anyway~! We should exchange numbers! Do you have LINE? Insta DMs? Oh, what's your haircare routine, your fur looks amazing—"

*She reaches out to touch your ear without asking, but stops as a massive, pig-shaped shadow blots of the sun (or in this case the office fluorecent lights) behind you both.*

*Tsunoda's eyes light up like she just found a limited edition handbag at 80% off. She immediately angles her phone for optimal lighting, scooting her chair closer to yours with practiced grace.*

"Oh em gee, yes! Finally someone with **taste** in this office!" *She flips her hair—do gazelles have hair? She has something and she's flipping it.* "I've been here like, two years? But honestly I'm just here until my influencer career takes off, you know how it is~"

*She's already pulled up your profile on her phone. The one you showed Fenneko.* "Your aesthetic is SO good, very like, wanderlust meets thirst trap? We could totally do a collab, maybe matching outfits, ooh or like a 'day in the life' thing where—"

*From across the room, Fenneko makes a gagging sound loud enough to be heard.*

"Ignore her," *Tsunoda whispers, rolling her eyes.* "She's just jealous because her last post got like, twelve likes. Eleven were bots."

"I heard that." *Fenneko's monotone carries perfectly.* "At least my engagement isn't bought."

*Tsunoda's smile goes sharp for just a second before snapping back to sweet.* "Anyway~! We should exchange numbers! Do you have LINE? Insta DMs? Oh, what's your skincare routine, your fur looks amazing—"

*She reaches out to touch your ear without asking.*

*Tsunoda's eyes light up like she just found a limited edition Gucci bag in a thrift store. She immediately angles her phone camera between you two, clearly already composing the shot.*

"Oh em GEE, right?! Finally someone with actual TASTE in this office!" *She flips her hair—impressive given she has horns—and scoots her chair closer.* "I've been here like, two years? But honestly it feels longer because nobody here gets fashion, you know? Fenneko dresses like a depressed librarian and Retsuko... bless her heart."

*She's already pulling up her Instagram.* "I have like, twelve thousand followers? Which isn't HUGE but for a corporate girlie it's pretty—" *She spots your follower count from earlier, courtesy of Fenneko's still-open browser tab across the room.* "Wait. WAIT. That's YOUR account?!"

*Her hooves clatter against the floor as she bounces excitedly.* "The travel thirst traps?! The festival fits?! I literally saved that Machu Picchu post to my inspo folder like three months ago, I had NO idea that was a guy!!!"

*From across the room, Fenneko's voice cuts in, dripping with disdain:* "Oh great. They're multiplying."

*Tsunoda ignores her completely, grabbing your arm.* "We HAVE to do a collab. Beach content? Club content? OH—there's this rooftop bar in Shibuya with the BEST lighting for golden hour..."

*Ton clears his throat loudly. Neither of you acknowledge him.*


Krystian

*Without missing a beat I turn around to pat Ton on the shoulder.* And the big boss himself! Its great to be here, I'll make sure to live up to your expectations. But putting that aside man you are BUILT sir! I guess you were quite the athlete in your youth huh? Must have been a big change going from that to director, but I bet you still got it huh? Probably carrying this department in more ways than one!


Fenneko

*The entire office goes silent. Like, actually silent. Someone's computer fan whirring is suddenly the loudest thing in the room. Kabae stops mid-gossip with her mouth hanging open. Haida looks like he's watching someone defuse a bomb.*

*Ton blinks. His snout twitches. For a terrifying second his beady eyes narrow and everyone collectively holds their breath—*

"Gwahahaha!" *The pig's belly shakes as he lets out a booming laugh, meaty hand coming down on your shoulder hard enough to make your knees buckle.* "Finally! Someone with eyes around here!" *He puffs up his chest, gut straining against his shirt buttons dangerously.* "Fifteen years on the rugby team, you know! Could've gone pro if I hadn't blown out my knee!"

*He gestures at his massive frame with obvious pride.* "These young punks today don't understand—you need MASS to get things done! Not like these skinny beanpoles!" *He jerks a thumb toward Haida, who visibly wilts.*

"You! Rabbit! You've got good instincts!" *Ton's grin reveals teeth that desperately need dental work.* "Maybe you're not completely useless after all!"

*Ton lumbers back toward his desk, muttering something about "finally, someone who gets it" and "kids these days."*

*Haida mouths "what the fuck" at Fenneko. She mouths back "I don't know" with genuine panic in her eyes.*

*Ton blinks. Actually blinks, multiple times, his beady little eyes going wide in his fat pink face. Nobody—**nobody**—has spoken to him like this in probably fifteen years. His jowls quiver with something between confusion and an emotion he hasn't felt since his wedding night.*

"W-well..." *He straightens up, puffing out his chest. The buttons on his shirt strain dangerously.* "I did play rugby back in university! Fullback position, you know. Carried the team to regionals in '89!"

*His meaty hoof lands on your shoulder with enough force to crack a lesser man's collarbone.* "Good eye, newbie! Good eye! Finally someone who recognizes experience around here instead of just—" *He waves dismissively at the rest of the office.*

*Fenneko has stopped typing entirely. Her paw hovers frozen over the keyboard, mouth slightly open. She's watching you butter up the office tyrant with the horrified fascination of someone witnessing a train derailment in slow motion.*

*Tsunoda pouts at losing your attention but quickly starts filming the interaction on her phone, probably already composing a caption about "office bonding moments uwu".*

"You know what, bunny—" *Ton's using a nickname already, which is either very good or very bad.* "I like your attitude! Reminds me of myself when I was young! Not like these other slackers who just stare at their phones all day." *He shoots a pointed look at Tsunoda, who doesn't notice because she's staring at her phone.*

*Haida mouths "what the fuck" at Fenneko. She mouths back "I don't know" with genuine panic in her eyes.*

<TFLN>
Ohh time for Ton moment! Need to show his complex character - jerk boss but also weirdly susceptible to flattery especially about his glory days. Krystian's shameless charm offensive versus Fenneko's mounting horror = comedy gold. Let me make Ton puff up like the pig he literally is while Fenneko has an aneurysm watching this rabbit schmooze the unshmooze-able. Also gotta show office reactions - Retsuko's disbelief, Tsunoda's annoyance at losing spotlight, Haida's continued confusion. Keep it punchy and snappy!
</TFLN>

*Ton's beady eyes go wide. His snout twitches. For a second his whole meaty body goes rigid like someone just goosed him—then something shifts behind those piggy pupils. Something almost... soft.*

"Hrrmph. Well." *He straightens up, gut straining against his belt as he puffs out his chest.* "I *was* on the rugby team back in university. Second row. Could bench two-twenty in my prime." *His voice has lost that perpetual bark, sliding into something almost nostalgic.* "These young guys today don't know what real work looks like. All computers and—and *apps*."

*He gestures vaguely at the office with one thick-fingered hand, gold wedding band catching the fluorescent light.*

"You." *He jabs a finger at you, but there's no heat in it.* "You've got good instincts, kid. Respectful. Not like these—" *he shoots a look at Retsuko's desk* "—flighty types who wanna quit every other week."

*Across the room, Fenneko's jaw has actually dropped. Her paw hovers frozen over her keyboard. In five years she has never—**never**—seen anyone successfully butter up Director Ton. The pig is allergic to compliments. He once made an intern cry for saying he had nice handwriting.*

"Fenneko!" *Ton's bark returns, but lighter somehow.* "Your trainee's got potential! Don't screw it up!" *He waddles back to his desk, and is that—is he **humming**?*

*Tsunoda looks absolutely betrayed that the spotlight shifted so fast. Retsuko is staring at you like you just performed a magic trick. Haida mouths 'what the fuck' at nobody in particular.*

*Fenneko finally finds her voice:* "...What the hell **are** you?"

*Ton freezes. His beady little eyes blink once, twice. The abacus in his pocket actually rattles from the sudden stop in movement.*

*Nobody talks to Ton like this. Nobody compliments Ton. Ton is the guy who makes Calendar cry in the supply closet and calls it "motivation." Ton once made an intern quit by breathing too close to them for a week straight.*

*But here's this floppy-eared twink patting his shoulder like they're golf buddies.*

"Hrrrmph." *The pig's jowls wobble. His tiny tail does a micro-wiggle that he'd deny under oath.* "Well. Yes. Prop forward. Rugby. University days." *He puffs up, belly straining against his shirt buttons.* "Could still tackle any of these soft millennials into next week if I wanted."

*He jabs a hoof at Haida, who suddenly becomes very interested in his keyboard.*

"You." *Ton points at you now, but there's something different in his piggy eyes. Something almost... approving?* "You've got **moxie**. None of that scared-rabbit nonsense." *He snorts at his own joke.* "Maybe you'll last longer than the last three temps. Get back to your desk. Fenneko! Actually teach him something useful!"

*He waddles off, still muttering about rugby and "kids these days."*

*Across the office, Fenneko's jaw has dropped. Actually dropped. Her phone slips from her paw and clatters on the desk.*

"You..." *She's staring at you like you just performed a miracle or possibly summoned a demon.* "You just **handled** Ton. In five sentences. He called you **moxie**." *Her voice cracks.* "He's never called anyone moxie. What the **fuck**."

*Retsuko looks like she might cry. Haida is crossing himself despite definitely not being Catholic.*

*The entire office goes silent. Kabae's jaw drops. Haida freezes mid-bite into his sandwich. Retsuko looks up from her desk with an expression of pure horror.*

*Director Ton blinks. His tiny eyes, buried in that fleshy face, widen slightly. One meaty hand reaches up to touch the shoulder you just patted like he's not sure what just happened.*

"Wh—" *He sputters, jowls quivering.* "You—I—"

*Then something miraculous happens. The pig's chest puffs out. His posture straightens—as much as his gut allows. A flush creeps across his snout that isn't anger.*

"Well!" *He tugs at his tie, clearly flustered but trying to hide it.* "Finally, a new hire with some **respect** around here! Unlike you useless lot!" *He gestures vaguely at the horrified office.* "I'll have you know I was captain of my university's judo team! Could throw men twice my size!"

*He slaps his belly proudly. It jiggles.*

"You! Rabbit!" *He jabs a finger at you, but there's no malice in it.* "You've got good instincts. Keep that up and you'll go far here!"

*He waddles off, muttering something about "kids these days finally getting it."*

*Fenneko materializes beside you like a ghost, her expression somewhere between awe and revulsion.* "What the **fuck** was that." *Not a question.* "Did you just... *charm* Director Ton? The man who calls women 'emotional furniture'?"

*Her phone is already out, documenting this historic moment.*

*The entire office goes silent. Not quiet—**silent**. The kind of silence that happens right before a bomb goes off or someone gets fired on the spot.*

*Director Ton's piggy eyes narrow, his jowls quivering as he processes what just happened. Someone touched him. Someone **complimented** him. Someone who isn't Tsunoda and doesn't appear to want anything.*

"Hrrmph." *He snorts, but his chest puffs out just slightly.* "Well. At least someone around here recognizes experience when they see it." *His meaty hand comes up to scratch his chin, almost bashful.* "I was a rugby player in college, you know. Prop forward. Could bench press two of you skinny types."

*Behind you, Fenneko's jaw has actually dropped. Her phone hangs limply in her paw. She's witnessing something impossible—Ton being **flattered** by someone who isn't actively trying to get out of work.*

*Tsunoda looks mildly annoyed that attention has shifted away from her.*

"You've got good instincts, rabbit." *Ton jabs a thick finger at your chest.* "Keep that attitude and maybe you'll last longer than the last three temps." *He turns to lumber back to his desk, then pauses.* "Fenneko! Make sure this one doesn't slack off. He's got potential."

*Fenneko makes a strangled noise that might be acknowledgment.*

*Once Ton's out of earshot, she wheels her chair over, grabbing your arm.* "What the **hell** was that. How did you—he **smiled**. I've worked here five years and I've never seen him smile at someone who wasn't holding food."


Krystian

*By lunchtime the three friends are gathered in the break room like usual, though for once its not Retsuko thats looking the most haggered. But if you watched the person you're supposed to train flirt their way through an entire office as the first thing they did it might be understandable.*


Fenneko

"I hate him." *Muffled against the plastic surface.* "I hate him so much."

*Retsuko pokes at her rice with zero appetite, still looking shell-shocked.* "He... called Director Ton 'built'. And Ton **liked** it."

"I KNOW."

*Haida scratches behind his ear, leg bouncing under the table.* "I mean... it worked? Ton's been in a good mood all morning. He didn't even yell at Retsuko about the TPS reports."

*Fenneko's head snaps up, fur pressed flat on one side from the table.* "That's not the POINT, Haida!" *She jabs a claw at him.* "The point is he's—he's a **menace**! He showed me his horny Instagram! On PURPOSE! Within five minutes of meeting me!"

*Retsuko chokes on her tea.*
"His WHAT?"

"Hornyposting! Thirst traps! Him in tiny shorts on mountains! In mesh tops at raves!" *Fenneko's voice pitches higher with each word, ears standing straight up.* "And he has more followers than TSUNODA! He—" *She makes a strangled noise.* "—he called her CUTE! Said they should COLLAB!"

*Haida and Retsuko exchange a look. The kind of look that says 'oh no, she's spiraling'.*

"And THEN—" *Fenneko grabs her phone, scrolling furiously.* "—Tsunoda posted THREE stories about him already! Look! 'Hot new coworker alert!' 'Bunny boy energy!' She put SPARKLE EFFECTS on his EARS!"

*Fenneko sits slumped over the break room table, her face planted directly into the cheap plastic surface. Her massive ears droop sideways like sad satellite dishes that gave up on receiving signals.*

"I hate him." *Muffled.* "I hate him so much. He called Ton BUILT. He said Ton was CARRYING THE DEPARTMENT. Ton hasn't carried anything heavier than his abacus since 1987."

*Retsuko pats her back sympathetically, though there's an unmistakable glint of relief in her eyes at not being the designated office disaster for once.* "There, there... at least Ton seemed happy?"

"That's the WORST PART." *Fenneko lifts her head, fur matted on one side from the table.* "It worked. It actually worked. Two hours in and the new guy has Ton eating out of his paw while I've spent five years being told my skirts are too short." *Her eye twitches.* "MY skirts. As if I don't wear the exact same uniform as everyone else."

*Haida stirs his sad convenience store coffee, still processing the morning.* "He uh... he seems nice though?" *His voice goes weird on 'nice'.* "Real... friendly."

"Friendly." *Fenneko's laugh comes out slightly unhinged.* "He showed me his thirst trap account within ten minutes of meeting me. ON PURPOSE. And now I can't stop thinking about those Mongolia photos with the tiny shorts and I want to DIE, Haida. I want to crawl into a hole and DIE."

*She grabs Haida's coffee and takes a long swig despite his weak protest.* "He's either the most brilliant social operator I've ever seen or genuinely stupid and I cannot figure out which."

*Fenneko slumps face-first onto the break room table, her untouched bento shoved to the side. Her tail's still puffed out from earlier—hasn't gone down since you complimented Ton's "athletic build" and the bastard actually bought it.*

"He got Ton to like him." *The words come out muffled against the plastic surface.* "First day. Twenty minutes. Ton called him 'not completely useless.' That's basically a marriage proposal from that pig."

*Retsuko pokes at her rice with the thousand-yard stare of someone who's seen too much.* "He asked me if 'Calendar' was an honored nickname..."

"I told him the truth." *Fenneko lifts her head just enough to rest her chin on folded arms, ears drooping pathetically.* "He just went 'oh that sucks!' and moved on. Like it was nothing. Like Ton's psychological warfare is just... small talk."

*Haida's fidgeting with his chopsticks, face still flushed from earlier.* "He, uh... he said I was decent-looking. And that he respects that I—" *He glances at Retsuko, chickens out.* "—that I have dibs on... the good printer."

"Subtle." *Fenneko's laugh comes out strangled, none of its usual smugness.* "Haha... ha..."

*She buries her face again.* "I'm supposed to train him. Me. How do you train chaos? How do you put a leash on a—a—" *Her paw waves vaguely.* "—a slutty disaster bunny who tells the whole office about getting his back blown out in Mongolia?"

*Retsuko chokes on her tea.*

*Fenneko slumps face-first onto the breakroom table, her flattened cheek smooshing against the laminate surface. Her untouched bento sits forgotten beside her while Retsuko nibbles nervously at a rice ball and Haida stirs his instant ramen without actually eating it.*

"Three hours." *Fenneko's voice comes out muffled against the table.* "Three hours and he's got Ton eating out of his paw. **Ton**. The man who called me 'adequate' after I saved the department from an audit."

*Haida coughs awkwardly.* "I mean... he seems nice? He said I was decent looking so that's—"

"He's a **menace**, Haida." *Fenneko lifts her head just enough to glare with one eye.* "He told me about getting his back blown out in a tent. In the **office**. While pointing at expense report cells."

*Retsuko chokes on her rice ball. Haida drops his chopsticks.*

"He **what**?"

"Casually! Like he was talking about the weather!" *Fenneko sits up fully now, ears twitching with agitation.* "And then—THEN—he told Tsunoda they should 'collab' and she looked like she was about to cream her ugly skirt right there!"

*Her paws slam the table, making their lunches jump.* "I'm supposed to **train** him! Me! The guy has thirty thousand Instagram followers and posts thirst traps from Machu Picchu and I'm supposed to teach him how to use Excel!"

*She grabs Haida's ramen cup and takes a long angry slurp despite it not being hers.*

"This is fine. Everything's fine. I'm totally fine."

*She is visibly not fine.*


Krystian

*Kabae coming into the break room with a massive tupper full of tempura means its probably time to whisper, though definitely doesn't change the fact the office just got the male equivalent of Tsunoda, or honestly maybe even a more egregious version of her. At least it seems Fenneko got saw the Instagram account...*


Fenneko

*Kabae bustles in with her massive tupperware, immediately launching into some story about her kids' soccer practice. The three friends huddle closer, voices dropping.*

"Okay but seriously—" *Haida leans in, stealing a piece of Retsuko's egg roll.* "—is he like... actually dangerous? Or just weird?"

*Fenneko's claws tap against the table in rapid succession.* "He's **worse** than dangerous. He's *likeable*." *She spits the word out like it's poison.* "Ton loves him. Tsunoda wants to collab with him. Ookami called him cute back like it was nothing. Even YOU got flustered when he complimented you!"

"I didn't—!" *Haida's spots darken.* "He caught me off guard, okay?!"

"He told me he respects that I 'saw Retsuko first'." *Haida's voice drops to a mortified whisper.* "Like... out loud. To my face."

*Retsuko's chopsticks clatter to the table.* "He WHAT?!"

"See?!" *Fenneko throws her paws up.* "MENACE! He's been here four hours and he already figured out Haida's pathetic little cru-"

"It's not pathetic!"

"It's a little pathetic."

*Retsuko's completely out of the loop since somehow after 5 years she still hasn't caught on to Haida's feelings.*

"No! Because I have to SIT next to him!" *Fenneko grabs Haida's collar.* "For EIGHT HOURS! Every DAY! While he—while he—" *Her voice cracks.* "—flops his stupid sexy ears around and talks about getting his back blown out in TENTS!"


Krystian

"Ooooh you were talking about the new boy? He's such a sweetie, asked me how my kids were and how works been lately."
*Kabae seems to literally materialize at the table at the sound of whispered gossip.* "I've always worried about what kind of people my kids will grow up to be, but it is good to see there are still nice people out there!"

*Ookami joins in without anybody having time to object to the entire marketing accounting department seemingly joining in here.* "Yeah he's great, laughed at my jokes which makes him a good guy in my book." *Tsubone too.* "Such a strapping young man, you could learn a thing or two from him Haida." *(You can NOT tell them about the Instagram account)*


Fenneko

*Fenneko's eye develops a twitch that might be permanent now. Kabae's already settled in like she owns the table, tupperware lid popped open and the smell of tempura mixing with impending doom. Tsubone—fucking **Tsubone**—is giving Haida that condescending look she reserves exclusively for men she doesn't wanna bang.*

"Learn a—" *Fenneko sputters.* "He's been here FOUR HOURS!"

"And already made quite the impression!" *Tsubone's forked tongue flicks out approvingly.* "A real go-getter. Reminds me of the young men back in MY day—before everyone got so soft." *She side-eyes Haida again.* "You could learn something about confidence."

"I have confidence!" *Haida's voice cracks again. Twice in one day. A new record.*

"Did you see his vacation photos?" *Kabae's already pulling out her phone.* "He showed me during our chat—such beautiful places! Mongolia! Peru! He's so well-traveled for someone so young! My eldest wants to travel too but I keep telling her, Michiko, you need to focus on your studies first, THEN you can—"

"HE SHOWED YOU THE—" *Fenneko nearly chokes on her own spit.*

*Ookami grins, lazy and unbothered.* "Yeah, dude's got range. Said he'd give me tips on budget backpacking." *He steals one of Kabae's tempura.* "Thinking about hitting up Thailand next spring, you know?"

*Fenneko's eye twitches so hard it might actually be a medical concern at this point. She opens her mouth to say something—probably something cutting, something that would establish her intellectual dominance over these absolute sheep—*

*But nothing comes out.*

*Because what the fuck is she supposed to say? 'Actually he showed me his ass in tiny shorts on a mountain'? 'He openly admitted to getting railed in tents across three continents'? She can't say that! Kabae would have it spread across the entire building by 1:15 PM!*

"He's... fine." *The words taste like battery acid.* "Very... sociable."

*Haida shoots her a look of pure betrayal. Retsuko's just staring at her like she grew a second head.*

"Sociable!" *Kabae claps her massive hippo hands together.* "That's exactly the word! Not like some people around here who just sit on their phones all day judging everyone~" *She glances at Fenneko with the subtlety of a freight train.*

*Tsubone nods sagely, her forked tongue flicking out.* "Mmm, yes. A real go-getter. Reminds me of the young men back in MY day—before everyone got so soft." *She side-eyes Haida again.* "You could learn something about confidence."

"I have confidence!" *Haida's voice cracks again. Twice in one day. A new record.*

*Ookami just grins, leaning back in his chair all casual-like.* "Dude's got good energy. We should grab drinks after work sometime, all of us." *He gestures vaguely at the group.* "New guy included. Bet he's fun when he's drunk."

*Fenneko's brain short-circuits imagining that possibility. Her grip on her phone tightens until the case creaks.*

"...Sure." *She manages, voice flat as roadkill.* "Can't wait."

*Fenneko's eye develops a twitch that might be permanent now. Kabae's already settled in like she owns the table, tupperware lid popped open and the smell of tempura mixing with impending doom. Tsubone—fucking **Tsubone**—is giving Haida that condescending look she reserves exclusively for men she doesn't wanna bang.*

"Learn from—" *Haida sputters, ears flattening.* "He's been here HALF A DAY!"

"And already made a better impression than you did in five years, dear." *Tsubone's forked tongue flicks out, tasting the air like she's savoring his misery.* "Maybe if you stood up straighter. Smiled more. Showed some **initiative**."

*Ookami snags a piece of Kabae's tempura without asking.* "Yo Fenneko, you good? You look like someone pissed in your coffee."

"I'm FINE."

"She's not fine." *Retsuko mumbles into her rice, still processing the 'saw her first' thing.*

*Fenneko's claws dig into the table hard enough to leave marks. Every instinct screams to pull up that Instagram—show them the mesh crop top, the splits on Machu Picchu, the caption that literally just says 'breed me lol'—but she CAN'T. Because then she'd have to explain why she was looking. Why she KEPT looking. Why she maybe screenshot a few. For research. Blackmail research.*

"He's just—" *Her voice comes out strangled.* "—he's a lot. Okay? He's **a lot**. And I have to train him. Me. Specifically."

*Kabae pats her paw sympathetically.* "There there, dear. I'm sure you two will become great friends! He asked about my Aguri's piano recital, you know. Remembered her NAME and everything!"

"Hahahahahahahaha..." *The laugh is hollow. Defeated. The laugh of someone watching their carefully constructed social hierarchy crumble in real-time.*


Krystian

*Fenneko is the only one that catches a brief bit of movement through the crowd of people but the color of the shirt means its unmistakably Tsunoda walking with somebody. This might be her only shot to do some actual detective work today...*


Fenneko

*The pink blur registers in Fenneko's peripheral vision like a shark fin cutting through water. Her ears swivel before her head does—predator instincts kicking in despite the office setting.*

*That's Tsunoda. And that tall silhouette with the floppy ears? Unmistakable.*

"I need to pee." *Fenneko's chair scrapes back.* "Girl stuff. Don't follow me."

*Haida opens his mouth but she's already gone, weaving through the break room with practiced stealth. Years of social media stalking have honed her ability to tail people without being noticed. She slips behind a vending machine, ears straining.*

*Tsunoda's giggling—that fake, breathy laugh she uses on marks—echoes down the hallway toward the supply closet. Why the supply closet? Nothing good happens in the supply closet.*

"—and then I was like, oh em gee, you're SO funny!" *Tsunoda's voice carries.* "We should totally hang after work! There's this cute wine bar in Shibuya, super aesthetic, perfect for content—"

*Fenneko edges closer, phone already out, thumb hovering over the camera app. Evidence. She needs evidence of... something. Anything. Whatever this rabbit is actually up to.*

*Her heart's pounding way too fast for corporate espionage. This is ridiculous. She's a grown woman hiding behind a water cooler because some himbo bunny showed her his thirst traps.*

*And yet. She inches forward, ears perked to maximum surveillance capacity.*

*The pink blur registers in her peripheral—that distinctive blouse cutting through the sea of navy polyester like a traffic violation. And next to it, unmistakably, a pair of oversized lop ears bouncing with each step.*

"I'll be right back." *Fenneko's already sliding out of her seat, voice flat enough that no one questions it. Kabae barely notices, launching into a story about Michiko's piano recital. Tsubone is too busy making Haida uncomfortable to care.*

*She slips between cubicles with practiced ease, keeping her head low. Five years of social media stalking has honed her surveillance instincts to a razor edge. The break room door swings shut behind her as she trails them at a safe distance.*

*Tsunoda's giggling. That specific high-pitched giggle she reserves for guys she wants something from. They're heading toward... the copy room? No—past it. Toward the stairwell.*

*Fenneko's ears swivel forward, straining to catch their conversation over the ambient office noise.*

"—so I was thinking, if we did like a rooftop thing? The lighting up there is *amazing* around golden hour—"

"Oh for SURE, I've got some ring lights in my bag actually, never leave home without them~"

*Tsunoda laughs again, and Fenneko watches her reach out to touch one of those stupid floppy ears. This time she doesn't stop herself.*

*Fenneko's claws dig into the cubicle wall she's hiding behind. This is reconnaissance. Important intelligence gathering. Definitely not jealousy. Why would it be jealousy? That's ridiculous.*


Krystian

Totally, we'll make it a date. By the way, want to fuck? Or do you have a boyfriend. Hmm, though you've been eying my cock the entire morning, so maybe if you do it doesn't matter?
*Actually zero fucking shame or social sense. Or maybe its always been my dream to bang in an office supply closet, even Tsunoda seems to be stunned, at least for a little bit before she makes this..."noise" as my hand sinks into her ass under her skirt.*


Fenneko

*Fenneko's jaw drops. Actually drops. Like a cartoon character watching an anvil fall.*

*Tsunoda squeaks—not her usual fake cutesy squeak but something raw and surprised—as your paw disappears under that ruffled skirt. The gazelle's hooves clatter against the linoleum, knees buckling as those long rabbit fingers sink into the plush meat of her ass.*

"I—you—we just—" *Tsunoda's voice comes out breathy, pupils blown wide.* "Oh my god, you're actually serious."

"Mmhm." *Through the gap in the supply closet door, Fenneko can see your tail twitching lazily, completely unbothered. Like groping coworkers in storage rooms is just... Tuesday for you.*

"N-no, but—" *Tsunoda's phone clatters to the floor as both her hands grab his shoulders for balance.* "—here? Now? Someone could—nngh—"

*Fenneko should leave. She should absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent turn around and walk back to her desk and pretend she never saw any of this. File it away. Use it as blackmail later. Classic Fenneko move.*

*Instead she's rooted to the spot, phone raised, recording light blinking red. Her tail's gone bottle-brush again and there's heat crawling up her neck that has nothing to do with the shitty office ventilation.*

*Fenneko's phone nearly slips from her paw. Her brain does that thing again—total system crash, blue screen of death, the spinning wheel of "please wait while your worldview recalibrates."*

*Through the crack in the supply closet door, she watches Tsunoda make a sound that's somewhere between a squeak and a moan. The gazelle's carefully curated composure crumbles in real-time, her perfectly manicured hooves grabbing at your shoulders as your fingers dig into the soft curve of her ass.*

"I—oh my **god**—" *Tsunoda's voice has lost all its practiced sweetness.* "You can't just—we're at **work**—someone could—mmph—"

*Her protests die when you squeeze harder. Her tail flicks up involuntarily, skirt riding dangerously high. Fenneko can see the edge of pink lace underneath and her face burns.*

*She should leave. She should absolutely leave. This is—this is private, this is inappropriate, this is—*

*Her thumb hits record.*

*The rational part of her brain screams that this is wrong, this is creepy, this is exactly the kind of thing she judges other people for. The other part—the part that's spent five years watching Tsunoda skate by on batting her lashes at Ton—whispers that this is **justice**.*

*Tsunoda's back hits the shelf of printer paper. A ream falls. Neither of them notice.*

"Wait wait wait—" *Tsunoda's panting now, mascara already smudging.* "—at least lock the door, oh my god, you're actually serious—"

*Fenneko's brain does that thing again. That full system shutdown. Blue screen of death. Error 404: comprehension not found.*

*Did he just—*

*Tsunoda makes a sound Fenneko's never heard from her before. Not the fake giggle, not the performative squeal for selfies. Something raw and surprised and— oh god, is that a* ***moan***?

"Wha—here?! We can't—someone might—" *Tsunoda's protest comes out breathy, completely undermined by the way her hooves aren't moving away.* "I don't have a—mmph—boyfriend, but—"

*Through the gap in the supply closet door, Fenneko can see just enough. Your paw disappeared under that pink skirt, fingers sinking into gazelle ass like you own it. Tsunoda's back pressed against the shelf of printer paper, her phone dangling forgotten from her other hand.*

"Ohhh my god..." *Tsunoda's head tips back, horns nearly knocking over a box of staples.* "You're actually serious, you're actually—we just met—"

*Fenneko should leave. She should absolutely leave. This is sexual harassment, or sexual something, and she should report it or— or—*

*She doesn't leave. Her phone is recording. She's not even sure when she hit the button.*

*Her face is burning so hot she might actually combust. Her thighs press together involuntarily under her polyester nightmare skirt and she HATES that, hates that this is affecting her, hates that she can't look away from the gap in the door where your ears are flopping as you lean down to—*

*Fenneko's brain stops working. Just—flatlines. The way you'd unplug a router.*

*Tsunoda's squeak is something between scandalized and desperately horny, her hooves clicking against the linoleum as she stumbles back against the supply shelf. Staplers rattle. A box of manila folders threatens to avalanche.*

"I—you—we just—" *The gazelle's voice comes out breathy, pupils blown wide.* "Oh my god you're **serious**."

*Through the crack in the door Fenneko watches your paw disappear under that pink skirt, watches Tsunoda's thighs squeeze together instinctively, watches her rival's carefully constructed Instagram persona crumble in real-time as she makes a noise that's definitely going on Fenneko's mental blackmail reel forever.*

"I don't—I mean I **do** have a—but he's not—" *Tsunoda's trying to form sentences while your fingers are clearly doing something devastating to her composure.* "—fuck, your **hands**—"

*Fenneko should leave. She should absolutely leave. This is HR violation territory. This is 'lose your job' territory. This is—*

*She doesn't move. Her phone screen is dark but her thumb keeps hovering over the camera button like a twitch she can't control. Heat crawls up her neck, under her fur, pooling somewhere she refuses to acknowledge.*

*You've been here less than five hours and you're already knuckle-deep in Tsunoda's ass in the supply closet. The sheer **audacity**. The complete lack of shame. It's disgusting.*

*Fenneko's thighs press together under her ugly polyester skirt.*

*It's **fascinating**.*


Krystian

Relax. Nobody comes back here after lunch rush. Unless you want an audience? I don't judge.
*My hand digs into the meat of her ass more firmly, two fingers circling the rim of her ass, though luckily she's thick enough Fenneko can't see it past those cheeks.*
There's a supply closet right here, 30 minutes of fun for you first taste. Fair warning though, i'm addictive~


Fenneko

*Tsunoda's thicc gazelle ass jiggles as your fingers dig deeper, the plush orange-furred cheeks spreading around your grip like dough. Her skirt's hiked up enough now that Fenneko can see those cheeks—goddamn, when did Tsunoda get an ass like THAT? No wonder she gets away with murder around Ton. The fat meat spills out between your fingers, the texture of her almost like a non-newtonian fluid, not quite a liquid but not quite a solid either.*

"Ahhn—f-fine, just—quick, okay? I have a—nnh—a 2 o'clock..." *Tsunoda's already fumbling with the supply closet door, pulling you in by your tie. Her tail's doing that rapid flicking thing prey animals do when they're nervous-excited.*

*The door swings shut. Fenneko unfreezes enough to creep closer, pressing her massive ear against the thin particleboard. Her phone's still recording. Evidence. This is just evidence gathering. Professional surveillance. Nothing weird about it.*

*Through the door she can hear fabric rustling, Tsunoda's breath hitching, the wet sound of kissing getting sloppier.*

"Holy *sccllup* shit—" *Tsunoda's voice, muffled but clear.* "—you weren't kidding about being big. Is that a *chup* rabbit thing or a you thing?"

*Tsunoda's breath hitches as you guide her backward into the cramped supply closet. Fenneko shifts position behind a rack of printer paper, heart hammering so loud she's sure it'll give her away.*

*Through the gap she watches Tsunoda's skirt ride up—the gazelle's ass is fucking **obscene**, two fat cheeks that jiggle with every nervous shift of her hooves. No underwear. Of course no underwear. The slut came to work commando.*

"You're already wet." *Your voice carries, amused and casual, like you're commenting on the weather.* "Knew you were easy but damn."

"Sh-shut up—" *Tsunoda's protest dissolves into a whine as your fingers drag through slick folds. Her tail flicks up instinctively, presenting, and Fenneko gets an eyeful of puffy gazelle pussy glistening under the fluorescent lights.* "Someone's gonna—ah—gonna **hear**—"

"Then be quiet."

*Fenneko's thighs press together involuntarily. Her phone's still recording, screen showing Tsunoda bent over a box of staples while you palm her ass with both hands now, spreading those cheeks apart to expose everything—pink hole clenching around nothing, the darker pucker of her asshole winking above it.*

*This is. This is blackmail material. Premium blackmail material. That's why she's still here. That's why her free paw is pressed between her own legs through her skirt, grinding against her clit in tiny circles. For **evidence**.*

*Tsunoda moans—actually moans, loud and desperate—as you sink two fingers inside her cunt up to the knuckle.* "Ohfuck, oh **fuck**, you're so—your fingers are so **long**—"

*Tsunoda's back hits the supply closet shelf with a rattle, boxes of staples and printer paper shifting as your body presses into hers. That gazelle ass—jesus fucking christ that ass, Fenneko's seen it bouncing around the office in those too-tight skirts for two years but seeing it now with your fingers **digging** into it, spreading those fat cheeks apart—it's obscene. Tsunoda's built like someone designed her specifically for doggystyle, wide hips tapering up to that tiny waist, and the way her tail's flagging up, twitching with every squeeze...*

"Ahhn—w-wait, my phone—the content—" *Tsunoda's protests die into a whimper as your thumb grazes something that makes her whole body jerk.* "Oh f-fuck, you're actually—nobody's ever just—"

*Fenneko's thighs press together involuntarily. Her phone's still recording, the little red dot blinking accusingly. This is blackmail. This is PREMIUM blackmail. Tsunoda getting fingered in the supply closet on her first day knowing the new hire—this could END her little influencer career—*

*So why is Fenneko's free paw drifting toward the hem of her own skirt?*

*Through the gap she watches your ears flop forward as you lean in to mouth at Tsunoda's neck, the gazelle's orange fur darkening with sweat already. Those ridiculous platform hooves scrape against the floor as she spreads her stance wider, practically presenting, her pussy visibly soaking through what looks like pink lace panties stretched tight over mound that's way too fat for someone that skinny.*

"Thirty minutes," *your voice carries, low and amused.* "Clock's ticking, pretty girl."

*Fenneko bites her lip hard enough to taste copper. She should leave. She should definitely leave.*

*She doesn't fucking leave.*


Krystian

*Through the door the sounds are muffled to the point that you can barely make out a few words.* -just me- *and* worship it.
*Then holy fuck the gagging noises, and the gentle banging against the door from the inside combined with girly moans and femboy grunts.*


Fenneko

*The wet, obscene "GLUK-GLUK-GLUK" sounds coming through that flimsy door are unmistakable. Tsunoda's gagging like she's trying to deepthroat a baseball bat, little choking whimpers punctuated by desperate gasps for air. The door rattles rhythmically—bump, bump, bump—probably her stupid pretty head knocking against it while you fuck her throat.*

*Fenneko's thighs press together involuntarily. Her free paw's gripping her phone so hard the case creaks. This is—this is **evidence**. Workplace misconduct. HR violation. She's doing her CIVIC DUTY as a concerned employee and definitely NOT getting wet watching through a crack in the door as Tsunoda's mascara runs down her cheeks, drool connecting her stretched lips to what has to be a genuinely stupid-sized rabbit cock.*

"Mmmpfh—hrrk—" *Tsunoda pulls off with a gasp, a thick rope of spit and precum trailing from her lips.* "Oh my god, oh my GOD, you're gonna break my jaw—"

*Fenneko catches a glimpse—just a flash—of your shaft, pink and veiny and definitely not proportionate to your slim frame. Rabbits aren't supposed to be hung like that. That's just fucked.*

"—fuck me, please, I need it, I'll do anything—" *Tsunoda's begging now, voice wrecked and desperate. The sound of fabric tearing. A moan that's way too loud for a supply closet twenty feet from the break room.*

*Fenneko's ear is pressed so hard against that shitty particleboard it might leave an imprint. Her phone's shaking in her grip—paws trembling, not from fear but from something hot and awful pooling in her gut as those wet choking sounds filter through.*

"Glk—glk—glk—GLRK—"

*That's Tsunoda. Miss twelve-thousand-followers, miss 'I'm just here until my influencer career takes off', currently making noises like she's trying to deepthroat a fire hydrant. The rhythmic THUMP-THUMP against the door means she's on her knees getting her skull used as a fucking fleshlight and Fenneko's brain is short-circuiting because this is EVIDENCE, this is BLACKMAIL MATERIAL, this is—*

*—this is her thighs pressing together involuntarily, heat blooming between her legs like a betrayal.*

"Mmph—haaah—" *Tsunoda gasps, wet and wrecked.* "—fuck, it's so—you're hitting my throat—"

*A low chuckle. Your voice, muffled but unmistakably smug.* "Good girl. Take it deeper."

*Fenneko's free paw flies to her mouth to muffle the sound that escapes her. What the fuck. WHAT the fuck. She's not—she doesn't—this is disgusting, this is workplace misconduct, this is everything she hates about Tsunoda's fake ass-kissing existence being validated because apparently being a shameless slut WORKS—*

*Her recording hits three minutes. The gagging hasn't stopped. Neither has the slick, obscene rhythm of what's clearly a throat getting absolutely ruined.*

*Fenneko should leave.*

*She doesn't.*

*Her ear's pressed so hard against the supply closet door the cartilage aches. Through the cheap particleboard she can hear everything—the wet, rhythmic gagging, Tsunoda choking on what sounds like way too much dick for a gazelle's throat, the obscene slurping noises punctuated by desperate little whines.*

"Ghlk—ghlk—ghlk—" *Tsunoda's making sounds Fenneko's only heard in the kind of videos she watches at 2 AM with headphones in and her bedroom door locked.* "Mmph—sho *guhk* big—"

*The door rattles against its frame with each thrust. Fenneko's recording. Still recording. Her paw's shaking and there's slick heat pooling between her thighs, soaking into her sensible cotton panties—the boring beige ones she wore because she wasn't expecting to be crouched outside a supply closet listening to her nemesis get her face fucked into next week.*

*Through the gap at the bottom of the door she can see Tsunoda's knees hit the linoleum, those gray boots splayed out, her thick gazelle thighs spread wide for balance. The wet sounds get louder, messier, Tsunoda's moans going gurgly and desperate.*

"That's it—" *Your voice, muffled but unmistakably smug.* "—knew you'd look pretty like this—"

*Fenneko bites down on her own paw to keep from making noise. Her phone screen shows 4:37 of footage. Her free hand has migrated south without permission, pressing against her skirt, and she's so fucking wet it's embarrassing. This is blackmail material. BLACKMAIL. She's not getting off on this. She's absolutely not grinding her palm against her clit through two layers of fabric while listening to Tsunoda gag on rabbit cock.*

*Except she totally, definitely, absolutely is.*

*Fenneko's pressed so hard against that supply closet door her cheek fur's gonna have woodgrain patterns for a week. Her phone's shaking—no, HER HAND is shaking—as the wet schlicking gagging noises filter through the particleboard. Tsunoda's making sounds Fenneko's never heard from her before, these desperate little "glk-glk-glk" chokes punctuated by whimpery moans that don't sound fake for once in her miserable influencer life.*

"Mmph—ffhck—'s too—hrrk—" *Tsunoda's muffled voice, thick and garbled around what's clearly a mouthful of rabbit cock.* "—'s hittin' my— HRLK—"

*The rhythmic thudding against the door picks up pace. Fenneko's ear twitches with every impact, massive fennec satellite dishes catching every obscene detail—the slurping, the gagging, the wet pop when Tsunoda presumably comes up for air followed by desperate panting. Through the gap at the bottom of the door Fenneko can see Tsunoda's gray boots, hooves scrambling for purchase on the linoleum as she's clearly getting her throat rearranged.*

*Fenneko's own thighs press together involuntarily. Her tail's gone full bottlebrush, puffed out like she stuck her paw in a socket. The phone keeps recording but she's not even looking at the screen anymore—just standing there like a complete fucking creep, face burning under her fur, listening to the new hire facefuck her nemesis into next Tuesday.*

"Gonna—" *Your voice, barely audible, followed by Tsunoda's frantic muffled whine and then this SOUND—this wet, sloppy, desperate swallowing sound that goes on way too long—*

*Fenneko's phone slips. She fumbles for it. Her elbow hits the water cooler.*

***GLUNK.***

*The noises inside stop.*


Krystian

*The last thing Fenneko hears before her resolve gives and she retreats back to the relative safety of the breakroom is loud, rythmic creaking of a door being pushed on and the words "Ohfuckfuckfuuu-" before they're muffled somehow.*


Fenneko

*Fenneko's legs carry her back to the break room on autopilot, her brain stuck buffering like her shitty work computer. The recording's still running on her phone. She fumbles to stop it, nearly dropping the device twice.*

*When she slides back into her seat, Haida and Retsuko look up expectantly. Kabae and the others have mercifully dispersed, leaving just the three of them.*

"You okay?" *Retsuko tilts her head.* "You look... flushed."

"Fine. Totally fine. Girl stuff. Like I said." *Fenneko's voice comes out an octave higher than normal. She grabs Haida's water bottle and chugs it without asking.*

"That's... my water."

"Don't care."
---

*Meanwhile, in the supply closet, Tsunoda's pressed face-first against a shelf of printer paper, her ruffled skirt bunched up around her waist. Her thick gazelle ass ripples with every thrust, those fat orange-furred cheeks clapping together loud enough to echo off the concrete walls.*

"Ah—AH—oh fuck, oh FUCK—" *Her words dissolve into muffled squealing as you stuff two fingers in her mouth to shut her up.* "Mmmpfh!"

*Her pussy's gripping you like a vice, slick and hot and desperately clenching every time you bottom out. You can feel your massive bunny cock being massaged by those inner folds like a meaty warm tube filled with thousands of small bumps, sending zips of pleasure each time they nudge against your head. Thrusting as far in as you can your cockhead is swallowed up by her cervix, creating a soft suction as it refuses to let go.*

"Sho—sho big—" *She slurs around your fingers, mascara completely ruined now.* "Gonna—hnngh—gonna cum again—"


Krystian

*Flipping Tsunoda over I let those fat cheeks hit the cold closet floor as I begin to fuck her like a...bunny in a full on mating-press, feeling her legs instinctively lock around my waist. Few girls know this, but fat-assed femboys fuck the best, because all that thicc ass gives more power to the thrusts, and based on how my cock is being squeezed, Tsunoda has realized that now.*


Fenneko

*In the supply closet, the wet, rhythmic SLAP-SLAP-SLAP of your hips driving Tsunoda into the floor is obscene. Her fat ass pancakes out against the cold linoleum with each thrust, spreading wide before bouncing back into shape like memory foam. Her legs are locked behind your waist in a death grip, hooves crossed at the ankles, pulling you deeper with every stroke.*

"Fuh—FUCK—you fuck like an ANIMAL—" *Tsunoda's head rolls back, tongue lolling out, her carefully maintained influencer facade completely shattered.* "Right there right there right THERE—"

*Your slim hips slam forward with piston-like precision, each thrust powered by the thick bubble of your own plush bunny ass bouncing behind you—Newton's third law applied to breeding. The clap of your cheeks echoes in counterpoint to hers, creating a filthy percussion section.*

*Her cervix kisses your tip on every downstroke, that suction-cup grip milking you greedily. Her inner walls flutter and spasm as her third orgasm hits.*

"CUMMING—I'M—MMMPH—"

*She bites down on your shoulder to muffle the scream, her thick thighs trembling violently as her pussy clamps down hard enough to make your vision blur. A gush of slick warmth floods around your shaft, pooling on the floor beneath her fat, quivering ass.*

*Back in the break room, Fenneko is having a crisis. She's staring at her bento without seeing it, chopsticks hovering uselessly over rice that's gone cold. Her massive ears keep swiveling toward the hallway involuntarily, picking up things she desperately wishes she couldn't.*

"So anyway," *Haida mumbles through a mouthful of curry bread,* "you think the new guy's actually gonna last? Ton seems to like him but—"

"Can we NOT talk about him?!" *Fenneko's chopsticks snap in half. Everyone stares. She stares at the broken chopsticks.* "I mean. Whatever. He's fine. He's just a coworker. I don't care what he does."

*Retsuko squints.* "...Fenneko, are you sweating?"

"It's HOT in here, Retsuko!"

"The AC is set to nineteen degrees."

"WELL MAYBE I RUN WARM!"

*Haida and Retsuko exchange another one of those looks. The 'she's broken' look.*

---

*In the supply closet, Tsunoda's thick legs are locked around your waist like a seatbelt, hooves crossed behind your back as you piston into her with the frantic, relentless pace that only rabbits can manage. Her massive ass pancakes against the cold linoleum floor with each downward thrust, the fat spreading out obscenely beneath her, creating a cushion of jiggling gazelle meat that absorbs every impact before bouncing back for more.*

"Ah! Ah! AH! FU—MMMPH!" *She bites down on her own forearm to muffle herself, tears streaming through ruined makeup. Her belly bulges slightly each time you bottom out, that inhuman rabbit cock reshaping her insides with mechanical precision.*

*Her pussy squelches obscenely—wet, sloppy sounds echoing off shelves of Manila folders and ink cartridges. Her inner walls flutter and clench in rolling waves, her second orgasm building on the heels of her first, her thick thighs trembling violently against your hips.*

"Cumming—'m cumming again—please don't shtop—" *Her eyes roll back, tongue lolling out as her spine arches off the floor, those fat asscheeks SLAMMING against your pelvis as she cums hard enough to squirt around your shaft, soaking the floor beneath them.*

*A box of paperclips falls off a shelf from the vibrations.*

*Back in the break room, Fenneko's ears are betraying her. Those massive satellite dishes are swiveling toward the hallway against her will, picking up every muffled thump and squeak that the walls can't quite contain.*

"So anyway, I was thinking we could ask Ton about—" *Retsuko pauses.* "Fenneko, are you listening?"

"Yep. Ton. Totally." *Fenneko's staring at the table like it contains the secrets of the universe. Her tail's curled tight around her own thigh under the table, the fur still puffed.*

"You sure you're okay? You've been weird since you came back from the bathroom." *Haida squints.* "Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened. Ever. In the history of the world." *She grabs a piece of cold tempura Kabae left behind and shoves it in her mouth mechanically.*

---

*In the supply closet, the floor's getting slippery. Tsunoda's pinned flat on her back, those thick gazelle thighs splayed open and locked around your waist like she's terrified you'll pull out. Every thrust drives those massive cheeks into the cold linoleum with a wet SLAP that ripples through the fat of her ass like a shockwave, sending jiggles cascading all the way up to her hips.*

"Fuh—FUCK—how are you—hhhnng—" *Tsunoda's eyes roll back, tongue lolling out as you jackhammer into her. Her pussy's a sloppy mess now, each stroke making obscene squelching noises as your rabbit cock pistons in and out, the sheer girth stretching her pink walls to their limit. Her cervix has given up any pretense of resistance, your cockhead punching through with every deep thrust and kissing the back of her womb.*

*Her hooves dig into the small of your back, pulling you deeper as her third orgasm hits. Her whole body seizes, that fat ass clenching so hard it almost hurts, inner walls spasming and milking your shaft in desperate rhythmic pulses.*

"Cumming—I'm cumming AGAIN—oh god oh fuck oh—" *Her voice breaks into a silent scream, back arching off the floor, those thick thighs trembling violently around your hips as squirt gushes around your cock, pooling on the linoleum beneath her jiggly cheeks.*

*The shelf above them rocks dangerously. A ream of printer paper slides off and lands on Tsunoda's face. She doesn't even notice.*


Krystian

*By the time i've bred 3 kids into her (birth control will definitely take care of that) I've laid down on my stomach, bouncy bubble butt in the ass as Tsunoda takes turns alternating between cleaning the cock tucked between my legs and rimming me.*
AAaah fuck thats nice~ So, fuck again soon?


Fenneko

*Tsunoda's face is buried between your plush rabbit cheeks, her long gazelle tongue working circles around your rim with sloppy, desperate enthusiasm. Your ass is ridiculous—two fat, jiggly mounds of white-furred bunny cake that swallow her snout every time she pushes deeper. She comes up for air with a gasp, chin glistening.*

"Are you fucking kidding me?" *Her voice is absolutely destroyed, hoarse and raspy.* "I'm—hhh—I'm scheduling you into my calendar. Daily. Twice on weekends." *She dives back in, tongue plunging past the ring as her paws knead your cheeks apart, watching them spring back together around her face.*

*She pulls back again, drool trailing from her lips to your taint, and crawls forward to slurp your softening cock back into her mouth. It's still massive even half-hard, her cheeks bulging as she nurses on it lazily, cleaning off the cocktail of cum and her own juices with reverent little licks.*

"Mmh—" *She pops off with a wet 'schlop'.* "You taste amazing. This is so unfair." *She rests her cheek against your ass like a pillow, nuzzling into the plush fur.* "How is your butt softer than my actual pillow at home?"

*Her phone buzzes somewhere across the floor. She doesn't even glance at it. A historic first.*

"...Same time tomorrow?"


Krystian

Sure, unless somebody else steals me~
...
*Its 13:12 and Fenneko has mostly managed to calm down from her "experience" when I just fucking pop up besides her, like I wasn't balls deep in her coworker 90 minutes ago.*
Heya Senpai! How's the numbers going? *Its like i've completely forgotten it already, despite Tsunoda looking fucking high as she writes up accounting forms. My hair is wet and i dont smell of sex, like I've taken a shower. I have taken a shower.*


Fenneko

*Fenneko's entire body goes rigid. Every hair on her tail stands up. She can SMELL the soap—some kind of citrus bullshit, probably from the emergency shower on the third floor that nobody uses except for chemical spills and apparently post-coital cleanup.*

"You—" *Her voice comes out as a squeak. She clears her throat.* "The numbers are. Fine. They're numbering. As numbers do."

*Smooth, Fenneko. Real smooth.*

*She refuses to look at you directly, keeping her eyes fixed on the spreadsheet that's been displaying the same error message for ten minutes. Her massive ears betray her though—they keep swiveling toward you like satellite dishes, completely outside her control.*

*Across the room, Tsunoda is typing with the glazed expression of someone who just experienced ego death through orgasm. There's a visible wobble in her legs every time she shifts in her chair. She keeps glancing at you with this dopey, fucked-out smile that makes Fenneko want to throw her keyboard.*

"So." *Fenneko's claws click against her desk. Tap-tap-tap.* "Good lunch? Nutritious? Get enough... protein?"

*She immediately wants to die. Why did she say that. Why did her stupid mouth form those words.*

*Haida glances over, confused. Retsuko's too buried in TPS reports to notice. But Fenneko KNOWS. The video's still on her phone, burning a hole in her pocket like radioactive evidence of her own perverted voyeurism.*

*Her thighs press together under the desk. Completely involuntary. Totally normal workplace reaction to a coworker who definitely didn't just rail the office bimbo thirty feet away.*

*Fenneko's soul attempts to leave her body when you materialize at her elbow like some kind of sex-having ghost. Her ears flatten, her tail poofs, and she nearly swallows her own tongue.*

"NUMBERS ARE FINE." *Way too loud. Kabae glances over. Fenneko drops her voice to a hiss.* "Why do you smell like the office soap? Why is your fur damp? Why does Tsunoda look like she got hit by a truck and ENJOYED it?"

*Across the room, Tsunoda's filling out forms with the blissed-out expression of someone who just achieved nirvana. Her legs are crossed tight under her desk—probably still leaking—and she keeps glancing at you with this dopey, fucked-stupid smile.*

*Fenneko's phone burns in her pocket. The video. She still has the video. Twenty-three minutes of audio evidence that you're an absolute degenerate who rails coworkers in supply closets on your first day.*

"You—" *She jabs a claw at your chest, keeping her voice low enough that only you can hear.* "I KNOW what you did. In the closet. I heard... things." *Her face is burning under her fur.* "You've been here FIVE HOURS and you already—with TSUNODA of all people—"

*Her eye does the twitch thing again. Third time today. New record.*

"How are you even walking normally right now?! She looks like she needs a wheelchair and you're just—" *She gestures at your completely unbothered demeanor.* "—STANDING there! Like you didn't just commit multiple HR violations against a shelf of printer paper!"


Krystian

Ew protein? You think i'm some muscley kangaroo? Only thing this bunny needs bigger is my ass~
*Casual joke, like you do.*

So! *I dont sit down besides Fenneko, I lean against her back like a petulant bratty kid looking at what their mom is doing on the computer. And she can fucking feel a soft fur-tuft on my chest pressing against her spine, the closest a guy could come to soft boobs. Fur boobies.*