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Leaving Emma’s office meant crawling back through the dog door. Emma went first – and Bunny blushed as she saw that Emma, too, was wearing no panties. Her naked ass and shaved, nude, pussy wiggled back and forth as she crawled. Bunny tried to look away until Emma was through the pet flap and standing on the other side, and then she got down on all fours and followed.
She wanted to ask Emma why she had a dog flap on her office door – but she remembered the book Emma had given her – “Humans Have Cocks: The Case For Treating Women As Animals” – and suspected she could already guess the answer.
Emma surveyed the Female Resources office floor. “Where would you like to work?” she asked.
Almost all of the desks in the area were child-sized, like the ones found in a primary school, but there were a few normal desks – all of them currently unused.
“That one,” she said, pointing at one of the normal desks in the centre of the office.
Emma frowned. “That’s a man’s desk, Bunny,” she said. “Don’t you want one of the women’s desks?”
“I’m not kneeling on the ground like a child,” protested Bunny. “I want to sit at a real desk.”
“Okay,” said Emma. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
She led Bunny over to the desk. The seat in front of it was hard plastic, with a textured surface. Bunny sat on it and grimaced – it wasn’t comfortable, and it felt like there were little spikes pressing into her buttocks.
“That’s left over from the last woman who tried to sit here,” said Emma. “It’s our special ‘big girl’ chair.” She turned on the computer on the desk, and passed Bunny a piece of paper. “It’s a spoken logon. We use voice ID for security. Read this out, then destroy the paper – you’ll get fired if you’re found keeping a written copy of your password.”
Bunny looked at the paper, and blushed. “I can’t say this,” she said, quietly.
“Sure you can,” said Emma brightly. “It’s just a password. IT will change it for you every couple of weeks. Just say it out loud, for the computer.”
Bunny looked around – but there was no way out. It was do as she was told, or cause a scene – and maybe get fired, losing access to her trust fund in the process.
“My name is Fuckbunny Penrose,” she said, blushing. “I deserve to be raped.”
The computer beeped happily, recognising her voice, and a moment later she was staring at the Kavenagh & True home screen.
Bunny looked at Emma. “Why do you allow all this?’ she asked. “It’s so… demeaning. And wrong.”
Emma looked around, and then leaned in close to Bunny. “Think about all the things you’ve done when your pussy is wet,” she said, “and all the fantasies you’ve had just before cumming. Then imagine that everyone knew about them. Would they think you were a woman who deserved equal rights to men? Or would they think you were a disgusting slut that should have to crawl on all fours?”
Bunny blushed. She hadn’t expected such a direct – and explicit answer. But Emma’s words made her remember some of her own fantasies – the thoughts she’d had sometimes, while masturbating, that had taken her over the edge to orgasm. Thoughts that she’d denied, afterwards. Thoughts that didn’t represent her normally, but…
Emma saw the brief pause, and the look of doubt on Bunny’s face, and nodded. “Exactly,” she said. Then she straightened, and spoke at a normal volume again. “Your first task is from Tim himself. You’re lucky! He wants a list of all women employed by the company, ranked in order of the quality of their tits.”
“The quality of…” said Bunny, not sure she’d heard right.
“Of their boobs. Their fuckbags.” Emma pouted a little. “Just use the employee files, and make sure the girls with the best udders at the top of the list, and the ones with the most disappointing tits are at the bottom.” She paused. “Make sure you do a good job. If Tim disagrees with your rankings, he *will* punish you.”
“But…” said Bunny, dismayed. How could she possibly be expected to rank women based on their tits? This wasn’t even real work – was it?
“He asks for this list every month or so. The girls at the bottom of the list – with the worst tits – get fired.” Emma looked at the clock on the computer screen. “He wants the list by 2 pm,” she added. “I’d get started, if I were you.”
And with that, she returned to her office – crawling through the dog door – and leaving Bunny to work.
Almost immediately, a blonde woman left her low desk nearby, and came over to Bunny. The woman had large breasts – and was visibly pregnant. “Hey, new girl,” she said. “You chose to be in the Bunnies?” She was pointing at Bunny’s velvet collar and Playboy-bunny charm.
“Emma recommended it for me,” said Bunny, lamely. “Ah – my name’s also Bunny. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m Pumpkin,” said the woman. “I scored 30 points for the Bunnies when I changed my first name to Pumpkin, and another 30 when I changed my last name to Babymaker, and another 30 after that when I got knocked up. That put us into second place on the board.”
She pointed to a whiteboard decorating the nearby wall. It listed the four “factions” – Bitches, Cows, Kittens and Bunnies – with a number next to each. The Bunnies were indeed in second place, with a total of 540 points. First place was apparently held by the Bitches, on 610, with Kittens and Cows both trailing behind in the high 400s.
“You changed your name to… Babymaker?” asked Bunny, horrified.
“All the men used to laugh that I was born to be a babymaker,” said Pumpkin, “so I just changed my name to reflect what they were calling me anyway. It made Tim in HR very pleased.” Her face hardened. “And I don’t need some new girl fucking it up for the Bunnies,” she said. “Just smile, and let the men stare at your tits, and behave yourself. With a little work, we can get to number one – and you *don’t* want to end up in last place on the board.”
“Why?” asked Bunny. “What happens to last place?”
“Just be a good girl, understand?” hissed Pumpkin. “Keep your head down and don’t make trouble.”
And with that, Pumpkin was gone, back to her desk.
Bunny felt unsettled by the strange conversation – but she had work to do, and a deadline to do it in. She accessed the “female resources” app on her screen, and soon had a list of the 500-odd women employed by Kavenagh & True.
Each woman’s employee file contained one or more pictures of the woman. Some – such as Bunny’s – showed a simple, professional headshot. But on many files, she found picture of women exposing their naked tits for the camera, eagerly presenting their tits for inspection. Some even had photos of women’s naked pussies, or of the women engaging in explicit sexual acts.
Many files contained data on the woman’s cup size, “vaginal tightness”, “anal readiness”, or notes about her sexual history. A lot of files contained information on the woman’s menstrual cycle, including all the women who held the rank of “executive with udders”. Some files held notes, added by anonymous men, such as “cries during anal sex, but doesn’t struggle”, or “makes a cute expression if you cum on her face during work hours”.
Bunny felt sick. Kavenagh & True was misogynistic and abusive right down to its core – and her one-time hero, Emma, was aiding and abetting those vile behaviours.
But what could she do about it? If she refused to work here – or got fired – she would lose access to her trust fund, and she and her mother would be out of a home. In addition to which, Kavenagh & True was influential – if she got fired from here now, she might find it hard to get work at a more normal company.
So she began to sort the female employees by the quality of their tits.
She had no clear idea of how she was supposed to rank the women. Just by cup size? She could do an auto-sort on the data and produce that ranking in minutes, so she couldn’t see how that would take her until 2 pm. Clearly some finer judgement was called for.
She felt a spark of rebellion flare inside her, and decided that she wouldn’t buy into the misogyny that the company was pushing on her. She began to rate the women as *she* thought they should be rated. Girls who hadn’t exposed their breasts for the camera went to the top of the list. Women who’d had boobjobs went to the bottom. Remembering what Emma had said about the bottom girls being fired, she was careful to place herself in the middle of the list – and she generously did the same for Emma.
Meanwhile, “Pumpkin Babymaker” – and the files confirmed that *was* her legal name now – went right at the bottom. Bunny didn’t appreciate being threatened on her first day.
She printed the document, as she had no idea what this “Tim Holland”’s email address might be – and then realised she had no idea where his office was either. She stopped to ask a brunette at a nearby desk – avoiding Pumpkin – and received succinct directions.
Human Resources was on the 9th floor, which required another elevator ride – blessedly free of groping, this time – but as soon as she arrived on the 9th floor, she felt the presence of male eyes on her, sizing her up, staring at her tits and ass.
Tim Bolland’s office was easy to find – he was the head of HR, and had the most prestigious space, at the rear of the floor. Like Emma’s office, he had a small pet door installed in the bottom of his regular door. She could hear two male voices talking inside.
Bunny knocked.
“Come in,” said a voice from inside.
Bunny paused. She had been about to open the regular door – but was she expected to instead use the pet door, as she had with Emma? Why was it even there, if women weren’t required to use it?
She shook her head. She was damned if she was going to crawl on all fours, when no one had even told her to. She turned the regular doorknob, and stepped into the room.
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