**Easy Mode (Part 5)**
[MF][Md][MC][Exh][Voy][SciFi]
The story so far:
Henry accidentally walked into traffic. End of Story. Well…that was, until he ‘respawned’ a few moments earlier, and he realized there was more to his reality that he was previously aware. He now seems to have access to auxiliary layers of reality, and better yet, control. His access to hidden insights allows his to seek quick paths to sex, and made him realize his wife has a bit of a wild side…his neighbors, too. Henry gets contacted by another ‘player’ by the name of Lowkey, and they set a time to meet. Meanwhile, Henry tests his new skills by creating a secret sexual history with wife’s sisters, videos and all.
—-
**It’s-a Me, Lowkey (13 XP, Level 1)**
The weekend wasn’t much of anything beyond the standard chores of grocery shopping, laundry, a little basic yard maintenance, and other boring stuff. This is the sort of thing you never see in movies. A guy gets new powers, and all of sudden there’s some mission, some great evil to thwart. Well, I may have been a main character, but the plot was a low-stakes domestic drama. We went out to eat. We had sex more times than we had in the past six months, but that was me tweaking my state, and then my wife’s stats. I took things slowly, carefully—experimentally—as I didn’t want her to end up as some sort of come-drooling ho-beast, but yes, by Sunday evening, I was able to fuck her three times in less than an hour, and both of us were more than ready to meet the challenge.
I realized I was able to set up stats for Karen under a ‘spouse’ heading. By focusing on the information above her head, I could find status for libido, sexual interests, physical stats, that sort of thing. By adding those subheaders I could then tweak them. I upped her libido and sexual response by twenty-five percent, which meant that not only did she want it a bit a more—honestly, more or less what it was when we first started dating—but she got wet and came a lot easier. I already knew her to be slightly submissive—she wanted me to take charge in bed—but I tacked on ‘reluctant exhibitionist’ so that she’d really get off on exposing herself if I talked her into it. It wasn’t too far removed from what I’d convinced her to do in getting the mail with no panties, still covered in my spunk, but now it was a bit of a fetish for her.
I futzed around but didn’t change too many things. To be honest, I was a bit anxious about my ‘meeting’ on Monday afternoon. I didn’t want to mess with my files too much, since Lowkey might have some guidance for me. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was being cautious. It wasn’t all a waste, as it allowed me to get used to what I was calling my head’s up display, or HUD. Anybody who played video games—especially RPGs—would understand. The info I could see and reference above peoples’ heads was useful but not necessarily intuitive to read. Focusing on peoples’ interests? It took some practice, and finding what I was looking for took even more effort. That said, I didn’t gain a single additional perk or experience point the rest of the weekend.
Monday morning zipped by, though it started pleasantly enough with Karen waking me to the sound of her masturbating in the bed beside me. She was back to sleeping naked, something she hadn’t done since we’d first started living together, and that was apparently enough to get her motor running overnight. As she made happy noises next to me, I started jerking off, watching her, and as she finished, she rolled over and took over for me, laughing as I unexpectedly came on the both of us a minute later. It was the first time we’d showered together since our honeymoon.
So, yes, Monday morning was generally quick, happy, pleasant, and delightfully uneventful…all the things you don’t normally expect of Mondays, but that led up my being in the plaza outside my office building, and from there, it was unknown.
I sat there eating my gyro, a little nervous, but not scared. Also, it was *very* good gyro. As weird as everything had been over the last couple of days, knowing that I was living on ‘easy’ mode gave me a sense of calm and assurance I’d never felt before. I tensed a little as a young woman in a smart maroon dress approached me, but relaxed as she turned away, sitting on the empty bench across from me.
“Hey, Henry.” I jolted, whipping around to see a young man sitting next me. “I’ll take that other gyro and the Diet Pepsi.” He winked at me.
“How did you—!”
“Do you play games—video games—Henry?” I nodded. “I don’t, really, but I’ve read up on the subject a lot. Think of it as ‘ghost mode’. Nothing can see me, and I can walk through almost anything. You need to start thinking laterally, Henry, especially if you don’t want lose your mind like the last guy I met. He didn’t play games, by the way, didn’t even bother to try to understand. Never quite got the concepts.”
“So, we’re just jumping right into this?” I asked. The man, who I assumed was Lowkey, shrugged, and started unwrapping his gyro. “I *just* died the other day, you know.” I muttered.
“No, actually, you died for the *umpteenth* time yesterday.” He took a big bite of the gyro, “Mmph, these are always so good.” He swallowed. “I actually come here every so often on other business,” he did not elaborate, “and I always go out of my way to get one of these things. They marinate the red onions.” He took another bite. “I’m telling you now, this conversation will be brief. I just want to get your gears spinning, but what I *don’t* want to do is overwhelm you. I overwhelmed the last guy with my enthusiasm. But I keep learning.” He shrugged again. “You were apparently as bad at keeping yourself alive as I was, so now you’re in helper mode. The conversation prompts, the pleasure meters,” he winked again, “fast mode for boring activities.”
“I, um, did that for my commute.”
“Yeah, the game prompts you for some things, but not others. There are triggers, I think, for most anything the game can help you with, but I’m still discovering things all the time. The perks, right? It’s total game mechanics, with puns, and levels, and everything. Again, I don’t want to blow your mind, but think about it: are game developers being influenced by *the* game, or do they already know about it? Is it some big conspiracy? No idea, myself, and none of those fuckers *ever* answer any of my emails. I’m going to drop in on some of the folks I suspect may know more than they’re letting on, but that means going to California, and I’m lazy, for the most part, these days, and the teleportation hasn’t ever quite worked like I expected it to.”
“Teleportation?” I blinked.
“Let it drop for now. It can be…dangerous.” He said no more. “Sorry,” he held up a hand, “I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Anyhow, regarding all of this,” he gestured to the world around us, “I’ve been getting perks for decades, and yet, the first time I saw them in an actual video game, well, that was *later*, to say the least.”
“Okay, but can you just explain what the game—.”
“Not now, Henry. Not today. Quick conversation, remember?” I was frustrated, a thousand questions waiting to burst from my lips, but I held my tongue. “Close your eyes for a second and think about finding your way back to your office.” I looked at him dubiously. “Just trust me, okay?” I did it and nearly dropped the remnants of my gyro at seeing a GPS-like prompt fill my vision. “Nice, huh?” He laughed. “You can find any place you’ve ever been just like that, anyone you know—NPCs, that is.” He quickly added. “Not me. I had GPS before I knew what GPS was…or before it had even been invented in this…uh…world…I guess.” He shrugged.
“Okay, please, just a few questions, before I forget, what’s the deal with NPCs—is my wife—.”
“She is a construct, as is anyone else with a white name above their head.” Looking up, I realized Lowkey’s name was in pale yellow. “Ah, he notices what’s been in front of his eyes for the past few minutes.” He chuckled. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? How quickly you’ve become used to the data feed? You just sort of accept it. Time, conversation, directions, general info on people, all the little things the game is helping you with.”
“But I’m living with…with a computer program.” I said.
“How do you know *we’re* not computer programs, too?” He held up a hand to stop me interrupting. “I’m not trying to be philosophical here. It doesn’t *really* matter who *is* real or *not* real. You have more *autonomy*. That’s the real point. Your wife is still who you know her as, how you want her to be, how you want her to act…*some* of that is up to your typing ability now, rather than hints and nudges and therapy.” He laughed. “That’s about the only difference.”
“I convinced her to…to do…things…things she wouldn’t normally have done.” I found myself blushing.
“My question would be, how do you know she wasn’t waiting to do those things all along—NPC or not?” He finished the gyro and crumpled up the wrapper. “I know you made your dick bigger, gave yourself more stamina, made some nice little videos of your wife, her sisters.” I blinked. I had done the latter *after* I set my privacy settings. “I made copies of your stat and param files, Henry.”
“What? How—.”
“Are you really going to ask how I did it? This is the game. I’m not some genius hacker. Hell, there weren’t even *computers* when I was born. I just know my way around the rules—if you can call them that—more than you do. Yes, you set your privacy filter, but not before I copied your files. Now, every time they update, I can see it. Making your wife a bit more of a horndog? Well, I think that’s down right sweet.” I started to speak, but he stopped me. “Yes, it’s spying on you, kind of, but what can you do? I did it. It’s done. The rules are different for us, if you haven’t already figured that out. I’m not embarrassed, and I hope you won’t resent me too much, but I’m curious to know how you handle yourself, Henry. This will allow me to do that without having to interact with you all the time.”
“Is that a problem…interacting with me?” I asked.
“For one, I’m just not much of a teacher, Henry. Also, while I’m not quite a misanthrope, I like to engage with people on my own accord. Having you check in with me all the time…? I’m not willing to invest that much in you just yet.”
“Okay, I think I get it.” Lowkey had already indicated there was someone else like me he used to know. That seemed to bother him, so I didn’t press.
“The backdated video thing was neat—insightful, for a newbie—but if you’re worried about me watching you get action from your sisters in-law, I can’t actually see your computer anymore. I can’t see through most of the cameras in your immediate vicinity. Any privacy level above one takes care of that. But, we’re off track. I’m not judging you having fun, I’m asking, why aren’t you thinking a little bigger?”
“Um,” I thought for a moment, “like becoming a rock star or something?” He laughed at me. It wasn’t mean-spirited, maybe more amused than anything.
“I haven’t tried that one yet, but it probably won’t work. I’m sure you’ve gotten a little info on baseline reality, you core existence?” I nodded. “You could probably make yourself a really good singer, musician, possibly even a songwriter—anything that can be taught, really—but the rest takes you playing the game. It’s hard work to be famous, even if you have real talent.”
“Then what do you mean by thinking bigger?” I was getting a little frustrated with him being so coy.
“I’ve set up a couple of surprises for you, things based on your life, things that I could edit *around* you since I can’t actually alter another player character, so you’ll see what indirect changes I can do—and you can do even more to yourself, that is—but what about basic human needs or functions? Eating, sleeping, shaving, even?”
“I can change those?”
“Buddy, you can basically turn them *off*. Don’t want to worry about food? Find entries for nutrition. I ate that gyro because it’s tasty, not because I need to actually *eat*.” My eyes widened. “Want short but restful sleep? You can set the length of sleep as low as one minute without breaking baseline reality. Want to be perfectly coiffed or shaven all the time…again, all you gotta do is dig through your file. I haven’t had a hair out of place up here,” he pointed to his head, “or down there,” he nodded to his crotch, “in ages. And now I’ll blow your mind a *little*—I’m trying to be gentle.” Lowkey paused and smirked. “How old am I?”
“Twenties, maybe?” I was guessing.
“That’s how I look, at least. But I’ve already mentioned I have a handful more decades than that.” I literally stiffened at the words. He’d made reference to it already, but it was sinking in. “Just a take breath.” I took some slow deep breaths. “I mean, yes, we died, and now we can make ourselves functionally immortal…not impervious…but age isn’t really a thing anymore. Now, just to get you thinking bigger—broader, no pun intended—what gender am I?” My mouth fell open. “That’s rhetorical, but the answer is yes, male, *presently*. This is partly why I am not worried about you seeing me in person before we really know each other. I can be this,” he gestured down at his person, “or something else in moments, if I want,” he held up his phone, “at the touch of button.” Lowkey tapped at his phone, and then *he* was woman in her early thirties, a red bob hairdo, and pants suit that looked like it cost a fortune. “Is *your* personal file in the cloud yet?”
“I—.” I swore under my breath. “But…how did you…you’re…I mean, you were a…ugh.” I shook my head.
“I’m a woman, typically. I was born one, at least. I was a man when we met because I wasn’t quite sure who you were…maybe some weirdo, a misogynist, whatever…but you don’t seem to be. To be clear, this form, it’s not quite me either…just what I want to appear as in the moment. You’ve already changed parts of your body…the rest is just typing. Honestly, I never bothered to save my original statistics, so I’m not exactly sure what I used to look like. This is close, though.” She shrugged. “So, are you in the cloud?”
“I *meant* to do that this weekend, but lost track.”
“Fucking your wife? *That* is an entirely reasonable excuse. She’s hot. Sex really does seem to be a key driver in the game, like it or not. I mean, the picture thing you set up, honestly, really was inspired. I totally copied that trick for some other stuff I was working on. I assumed you used a spreadsheet?” I said nothing, but nodded, though she’d obviously seen some the photos. “No one else can change your file, Henry. Heck, NPCs for the most part can’t comprehend what they’re seeing and will typically ignore it. I’ve tested this pretty thoroughly. The vast majority see programming gibberish, and even programmers can’t make much out of it.”
“So…?”
“So, Henry, you will want to do that—put your file in the cloud—once you’re more comfortable with the system. You will want to be able to change things on the fly—you never know when it might come in handy—like me rapidly changing my appearance or going into ghost mode. You don’t actually need to use your devices, either…to edit, yes, but once you’ve done that, int’s entirely possible to set up voice commands, gestures, you name it, but I’ve set up a little live demonstration, if you will. Don’t worry, this will be fun.” She started tapping at her phone. “You can’t change the world, Henry, not with a keystroke, but you can influence things a little. Sorry, no world peace, no end to hunger, the status quo has a way of reverting—again, I’ve *tried*—the influence of living through the Age of Aquarius, I think—but nudges and shifts on a regional scale, totally doable. Look around, look at what people are wearing.”
“Um,” I glanced around, seeing people in business attire and casual wear, a typical lunch hour scene in the plaza, “okay?”
“Now, close your eyes and count to three.” I frowned. “Just play along, Henry. The eyes closed part is just to better illustrate things.” I closed my eyes, counting aloud to three. I opened my eyes, and nothing seemed different until I noticed the women, almost all of them who were passingly capable of pulling off the look were wearing…
“Miniskirts?” I half-laughed, half-choked. “With thigh highs?” I’d just seen reality altered in front of me—in seconds.
“This took a little work on my part, a long-term project, but I have practice. Though, as you can see, it didn’t affect me.” She nodded down at her pantsuit. “I wrote a few paragraphs—basically a short story—in my personal file about trends in fashion. So, this is the result of a resurgence of miniskirts beginning in New York City, how the trend spread to a few other metro areas—like our own—and how it will be a fashion trend for about one to three years. It didn’t work.”
“What? But…?” I gestured at what we were seeing. “You changed reality, but I saw it happen too.”
“Yes, now that we’re in contact, in proximity, we are both aware of changes. If I was on a different continent, it’s hard to say if you would have noticed the instantaneous shift.”
“But you said it didn’t work.”
“This is actually version two-point-oh. The reason the first one never stuck, I realized, is that fashion *evolves*. In the ‘60s, it was miniskirts and tights. Pantyhose as a whole had really just started to catch on, so I thought, what’s the next step? So, stockings—thigh highs, you said—the ones without the garters. I mean, who knows? It could catch on *permanently*, but miniskirts didn’t stick around back when I was in college. I liked the miniskirt, though. I felt sexy, and if you had the looks, the guys loved it. The range of hosiery is nicer these days, though.” It struck me again how old this guy—girl—this *person*—likely was. “At the very least, this should illustrate how adaptive the programming language is—for lack of a better term—in your personal file. I didn’t sit there and type things out in Fortran or something. I just added a story, of sorts, to my file labeled ‘recent fashion’, and the rest just sort of happened.”
“But, okay, so yes, we can do all this, play around, change things here or there, but why? What’s the point?”
“It’s a game, clearly. I think that’s pretty obvious. Is it an erotic game or just a game that seems to highlight we’re perverts at heart? I don’t know, I mean, it seems to be sex-oriented more often than not, but I could be entirely wrong. This could be some big test, or just a bug in the system that we got access to, but so what? Just play.” He shrugged. “I try to play *nicely*, though.”
“But that can’t be all there is to it?” I asked.
“Well, my little experiment with fashion trends proves a point. I’ve been working on trends for kindness, poverty, violence, all sorts of stuff to make the world better, well, better-*ish*. None of it has worked that well, but some of it has been okay. I think there is less violent crime in the city because of my efforts. The statistics from the city indicates as much, but as silly as it is on its face, miniskirts are step in the right direction.”
“Miniskirts?”
“Not the actual miniskirts. Obviously, you are a little overwhelmed right now. You cannot be this dense.” She sighed. “*How* I got to this point *is* the point…well, maybe? Things are getting easier for me to change…improving my perks seems to help. Improving myself is something I’ve been ignoring for a while. I think I’ve started to crack how to make more expansive changes…the miniskirts are just low-stakes proof of concept.”
“But you’re not sure,” I said, “about the *point* of it?”
“Henry, I can’t even *try* to bullshit you on that. I’m not saying I have an answer to *that* question, but the last guy killed himself—literally, figuratively, hard to say—over it. I’m a handful of decades in, and I still find ways to amuse myself—even if it is looking up skirts.” She grinned. “You can still do good here or there, make people’s lives a little more interesting, test out new things, surprise yourself, even. I’ve discovered all sorts of things, tricks, skills. Maybe the point is to break free of the game, or break the game, or earn imaginary points. I’ve leveled perks, skills, sure, but I’m unaware of any actual score. I’ve no clue.”
“I get experience *and* levels.” I said.
“Well that,” she paused, “*that* is interesting. I have questions, but turnabout is fair play—that can wait until another meeting.”
“But you’re saying I can basically, I don’t know, live forever? But you can’t tell me what to *do* with that?”
“No one had that answer for you *before* you knew about the game. Why would it be different *now*? You don’t need fulfillment. You don’t need purpose. That’s all new-age bullshit. What I’ve learned over my many years is that all you need to be is…entertained. I mean, you can still end it at any time.” I hadn’t actually thought about that, but it appeared to be true. “If you’re looking for some proof that all this,” she gestured to our surroundings, “*exists* for a reason, well, I’ll just tell you to remember what it is at its heart—a game. Do you ask why Pac Man exists? Why chess exists?” She got up, tossing her gyro wrapper and unopened Diet Pepsi in a trashcan about ten feet away. It was an effortless and perfect throw.
“Wait, where are you going?” I asked.
“I told you this would be a short conversation. Are your gears turning?”
“Yes, but I still have questions, and—.”
“Of course you do. I do, too, but hey, that’s life.” She grinned. “The point—right now—is for you to start thinking about those questions. Even another fifteen minutes of this talk, though, and all you’ll hear is, blah blah blah *reality distortion*, and blah blah blah *temporal phasing*, and then what?” I looked at her blankly. “You’ll have *more* questions. Listen, I’m not your Obi-Wan, okay? You want guidance on how to use some of your new toys, send me a message. You want life advice…well, I’m not the best source for that, regardless. I’ve fucked up *so* many times over the years, believe me.”
“But—.”
“I’ll talk to you soon,” Lowkey interrupted, “but for now, I want you to play a bit—play with the confines of the game, too. Don’ t worry—regardless of the warnings—it’s actually pretty difficult to break things, especially as a newbie, and I know how to find you if you start fucking things up in my neck of the woods.” I started to speak, but she disappeared. “Oh, and don’t forget about my surprises, Henry. Enjoy.” I startled at the voice just behind me, but when I turned, nothing was there. Of *course* nothing was there.
*Achievement Unlocked: That’s just, like, your opinion, man. You picked up some tips from another player. +1 XP. Level 1.*
I leaned back on the bench, taking a few more calming breaths. Across the way, the woman who had avoided sitting with me was playing on her phone with an empty lunch container next to her. Her maroon dress was now a maroon mini-dress, her dark pantyhose changed to similar thigh highs with white contrasting bands at the tops. The skirt was so short I could see the tops of the stockings and an inch or two of bare legs above. Her legs were parted slightly in her distraction with her phone. I could see she had lacy white panties on underneath, and my vision swam as it zoomed in on the view, and everything seemed to slow. The slight curves of her labia were shaping the front of her panties, and I could just make out a hint of dark hair underneath the lace.
*Perk Unlocked: I See London…In Bullet Time. Your keen attention to ‘detail’ means that voyeuristic opportunities will be become more evident, clearer, and you will have the time to enjoy them. This skill can grow with experience. +1 XP. Level 1.*
“Goddam, this game…” I muttered, my vision snapping back to normal as I shook my head. I went back to work.
—-
**Can’t Say I’m Missing It (14 XP, Level 1)**
Tabitha stepped up to my cubicle and I did a double-take. I’d been staring off into space at my desk. After my conversation with Lowkey, I felt I could be forgiven. Apparently, I could still lose track of time, even with a little clock always in my vision. Tabitha was a wearing a navy miniskirt with cream thigh highs, the lace bands at the tops just below the hem of her skirt. The skirt was very tight and *very* short, so short, she caught me looking at her.
“Yeah, I know, this may be a *little* shorter than expected for the office, but I’m also *just* tall enough that everything off the rack doesn’t quite fit. And this one,” she tugged at the hem of her skirt, “it looked longer in the dressing room when I tried it on. Half the guys were looking up my skirt on the subway this morning. I can’t even really cross my legs in this thing with out showing off my ass.” She muttered.
“Are you wearing nice panties, at least?” I grinned.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She said. “Stupid women’s fashion.”
“You could wear pants—not that I’m complaining.” I smirked.
“I wear what my *management* wears.” I raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of which, “Jessica Herbert wants to see you in her office.” The group manager, who wasn’t even my direct supervisor, didn’t usually deal with me.
“What does she want?” I asked. “And why did she send *you*?”
“Oh, it’s because I told her we fucked the other day.” She said, offhand. “She figured since I’ve had you dick in my mouth, I also occasionally *talk* to you.” She laughed. “Look at your face!” She laughed again. “She doesn’t know a damned thing about us. But you clearly didn’t know that I report to her almost every day for my actual work. She’s basically my boss, and she knows we started together at the company, knows we still talk, knows I’m on your floor a lot, too. I *could* tell her we fucked, but she probably wouldn’t care. I guess she didn’t want to send an email.” I frowned, she was fucking with me, but I wasn’t really sure what to make of the situation. “You should get going.” She turned to leave my cubical, and my heart raced a bit at seeing her skirt just barely covering the curve of her ass. I mean, I had seen her naked, had sex with her, but I liked a little teasing, too.
* Thank you for the info.
* Do you want to have dinner?
* Give me your panties.
“Hey, wait.” I’ll admit, the second option rattled me more than the third. “Before you go, why don’t you give me your panties?” Tabitha stopped short and looked over her shoulder.
“Are you crazy?”
“What?” I asked. “You drop this bomb on me, and then just walk away, regardless of how much I enjoy watching you walk away? I could be getting fired.”
“I can assure you, you’re not getting fired, Henry.” She smiled, turning to me. “For one, it would have been security delivering the message with a box to pack up your shit.”
“Just to be on the safe side, just in case I never see you again.”
“Fuck a guy one time and he becomes a pervert…and clingy one at that.” She stepped back into my cubicle. “Fine, you want them? Take them off me.”
“What?” I asked. “Here? Anybody could—.”
“Yeah, anybody *could* walk by, so if you want them, you better make it quick, or I imagine you’ll have some explaining to do.” She stared at me. “Well?” I leaned forward in my chair and slipped my hands under her skirt. The skirt was tight enough that it rode up rather than giving under my fingers, and her lacy white panties were half-exposed as I slid them off her hips. “Now what?” She asked.
*+ 1 XP. Level 1.* I had no idea what I got the experience for, but I wasn’t really focused on that.
“Well, now, every time you remember you have to very careful about keeping your legs together,” I teased a finger under her skirt, and she slapped my hand away, “you’ll think of *me*, won’t you?”
“You are awful, terrible, cruel, and…fuck you, Henry…it would be very convenient to have those panties right now given what’s happening between my legs.” She squinted at me.
“Not to mention your commute home, right?” Her eyes widened at the realization. “Ah, well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I apparently have a meeting to go to.” I got up as she flipped me off, turned, and walked away.
I waited a few beats and straightened my tie, then my not-quite erection, and pulled on my sport coat (I didn’t really have to wear suits at work), and headed for the group manager’s office. I walked the two flights of stairs and wandered into the section trying to remember exactly where Ms. Herbert sat when she called out as I passed her open door.
“There you are, Henry, come on in.” Ms. Herbert waved me into her office, pointing me to the seat in front of her desk before getting up to close the door. Normally, I would have been sweating at a manager having a closed-door conversation with me, but I was immediately distracted by her short flared skirt and sheer chevron-patterned thigh highs. Tabitha hadn’t been kidding that she followed the cues from her manager for work attire. Ms. Herbert was attractive in an unapproachable way. Everything about her just seemed staged, leaning toward artificiality. As she eased back into her chair, I caught a glimpse up her skirt, my vision swimming and everything slowing so I could just make out her dark panties, mostly sheer with lace elements. She was waxed. I could see that easily in the zoom and slo-mo. Who knew I was a such a voyeur? I appreciated Lowkey’s reality shift with the miniskirts, but it was…distracting. “Now, would you mind clarifying how we ended up in this situation?” She asked.
“Um, I’m not sure I understand.” I said.
“Henry, can I call you Henry?” I mean, she already had called me that, but who was counting? “You are, and I say this politely, a capable employee, *competent*.” She said it with the same tone as someone describing a disability. “But hardly inspiring. You are technically one of my people, but I think this is the first time I’ve seen you in months.” She gave a sharp laugh. “You weren’t even sure where my office was, were you?” I said nothing, but realized I could have used the GPS Lowkey had shown me. “But here we are.” I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “How on earth did you get promoted to Section Supervisor?” She stared me down with confused look on her face.
“I, um…what?” I asked. I didn’t even know we *had* Section supervisors.
“I more or less had the same reaction, Henry, and I can tell by the look on you face that you didn’t even know about it. That rules out blackmail, at least.” I pretty sure she meant that as a joke. She pulled up an email on her computer and started reading: “Effective immediately, you,” she looked to me, “are to take over the position of southwest section supervisor from Robert Taverson—Christ, what an asshole he was—HR will deliver salary and benefits adjustments via email.” She paused, skimming more text. “You are to be given the rest of the day off, must report to the southwest campus,” that was where we were, “no less than eight hours a month—you’ve got to be kidding me, they’re letting you telework!” She stood up, gripping the edge of her desk. “Seriously, how did you get this job? I didn’t even know it was coming available, and you just, you just…waltzed in!”
“I apologize if this took you by surprise. It does me, too, um, it’s just, um, where does this put me in the hierarchy?” I asked.
“Above *me*, that’s for sure. You have no direct reports to speak of, nothing much to do other than verify we’re meeting quotas and compliance rules—it’s a glorified salary and title with very little work—and no, you’re not my boss now, not technically, if that’s what you’re wondering.” I *wasn’t* wondering that, but the conversations prompts began appearing:
* Thank you for letting me know, you’ve helped me get here.
* Do you have any advice?
* I don’t appreciate your tone.
I blinked slowly, my heart racing, and I said it. “I don’t appreciate you talking to me like this.”
“What?” She looked down at me, but I also saw her arousal meter appear. It filled just a bit, and more information appeared under the name floating over hear head: Likes being subordinate. A smile started forming, just enough for her to notice. “What are you smirking about?”
“I’m just realizing, Jessica,” I paused at saying her name, “you don’t mind if I call you that, do you?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “While I may not be *rating* you, I am still, technically, above you—effective immediately, correct?”
“You—.”
“I’m speaking.” I said, standing. Her arousal continued to creep up like glass slowly being filled with water. “You said my promotion was effective immediately. You called me in here, treating me like, well, like the guy I was five seconds before that email was in your hands, made me think I was in trouble for something? I got promoted, and you’re interrogating *me*? Acting as if I stole something from *you*?” She stood straighter, but she looked smaller. “I *took* nothing. I’ve been given an opportunity. At least you could have let me enjoy it.” It felt good to get that off my chest.
“I’m sorry.” She muttered. More options appeared, and of course I went for the latter.
“Not good enough.” I said flatly. She flinched, but her arousal was half full. I could see her nipples hard under her blouse, and she was breathing heavily. I moved around her desk, stepping behind, and said right in her ear, “Bend over.”
“Wh-what?” She said softly.
“I’m not *asking*, Jessica.” This was new territory for me, but surprisingly fun in the moment. She spread her hands flat on the desk and started bending at the waist. I rolled her chair out of the way as she made her upper body perpendicular to her legs.
“Like this?” She asked. In her short skirt, her ass was exposed, her panties not quite a thong, but definitely cheeky.
“Sir.” I said, at prompting from the game.
“Like this, sir?” Her arousal crept up further. She was hot between her legs and shuddered as I slipped my hand between her thighs.
*+1 XP. Level 1.* I was getting experience, but I didn’t know for what. I hesitated at the next prompt, but went with it.
“You’re a bad boss.” I lightly slapped her ass, as the game suggested, and she gasped, her arousal rapidly filling.
“I am.” She said. I slapped her again, a little harder. I didn’t want to hurt her, but she seemed to *really* like it. I would’ve laughed, but I was also hard as a rock and didn’t want to pass up this opportunity. “I’m not good at giving orders.”
“You’re good at taking them.” I slapped her ass a couple times to emphasize the last two words.
“Yes, sir.” She said. She was panting. Was it really this easy with some people, or was it just easy mode? It didn’t matter. My cock was pulsing in my pants. I may have been the only ‘real’ person in the vicinity, but parts of me didn’t care.
“Pull down your panties.” I commanded, giving her another slap.
“Yes, sir.” Barely raising herself from the desk, she reached back and pushed her panties over the curve of her ass, and I stepped in, pulling them down hard. “Ahh!” She gasped as I left them at her knees, and she wobbled for balance. Her cheeks were lightly pink. I hadn’t been hitting her that hard, though I grabbed her ass roughly, feeling the warm flesh in my hands. I slid a hand between her thighs, which she could barely part due to being bound at the knees with her own underwear, but she was so wet my fingers went in almost on their own. She gasped again, and I fingered her for a few moments before easing off and dropping my pants. She glanced back at my erection, almost surprised to see it. “You…can’t…” she was panting, “you can’t fuck me in here.”
“Are you *telling* me I can’t fuck you?” I asked.
“No, but not with the door unlo—.” She started.
“Then stop talking.” I said. Her arousal was nearly full as I pressed between her thighs. My cock slid inside her as she started moaning softly. It took me a moment to find a comfortable position to start pumping against her, but I was barely a dozen thrusts in when she started coming. She was louder than I expected, and I slapped her ass again as I kept going. She mostly stifled herself, but if anyone had been passing her office, they might have heard. I kept going for another minute or so before I neared completion. This was the trick of my stamina. I could’ve have kept going, but I also didn’t *have* to. I pulled back just as I started spurting, come splashing her ass cheeks. I backed off and grabbed a tissue, wiping myself off, and tossed the crumpled wad on her desk. Jessica was panting heavily. I pulled up my pants and made myself presentable. She hadn’t moved. “Oh, um, you can get up—and talk.” I added. I wasn’t really sure how these things were supposed to end. The dominance thing was new to me.
“Thank you.” She said, and eased off the desk. She pulled up her panties, and I blinked, realizing she wasn’t going to clean up. She turned to face me and I saw a list of fetishes under her name. I barely knew anything about her, but now I could see Light Spanking, Boss Play, Come Wearing Fetish listed as interests. “Once again, I apologize, *sir*, for not being more forthcoming, and I, uh, *congratulate* you on your success.”
“No, thank *you*, Jessica. I think we both learned something today, don’t you?” She nodded. “Who’s to say, maybe I’ll drop by on my occasional check-ins at the office?” Her eyebrow rose, and she unsuccessfully tried to hide a smile.
“I would…like that.” She said. “Sir.” I left her office, not knowing quite what to do with myself. I logged off at my computer, shoved Tabitha’s panties—which I had accidentally left sitting out on my desk—into my pocket, and left. No one even noticed my departure, which wasn’t unusual, but I felt there should have been a fanfare or something after the day I’d had.
—-
**End Part 5**
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/uq86by/easy_mode_part_5_mfmdmcexhvoyscifi