Alex Riley

“Fuck Angela!” I grumbled to myself as I moved the junk around in the basement of our office building. “I can’t believe that feminazi bitch banished me down here to clean! I’m a highly skilled IT specialist!”

It had been a long day. Hell, a long 6 months if I’m honest. My name is Alex. I graduated college about 8 months ago and had spent around two months shopping my resume out before getting lucky and getting an offer from a political organization called “Artemis’ Activists”. It was an organization that lobbied for women’s issues, something I was fine with, being generally a progressive individual. What I wasn’t prepared for was my first day on the job.

“Who the fuck are you. Where’s Alex? She should be here for the job!” Screaming at me was one Angela Davis, the head of the organization. Angela Davis is a woman of striking appearance. She stands at around 6'2" with a curvy, hourglass figure that commands attention. Her breasts are full and voluptuous, accentuated by the way she often wears button-down shirts or blouses that showcase her cleavage, and if I had to guess she was easily an F cup or larger. Her ass is equally impressive, round and shapely in a way that looks magnificent in everything from jeans to skirts. She has curly brown hair that frames her head like a crown, and full lips that curve upwards in a perpetual expression of confidence and determination. Her eyes are perhaps her most captivating feature. They are a deep, piercing brown that seem to bore into those she meets, as if sizing them up and challenging them to match her intensity.

“Umm…I’m Alex. I’m the one you hired.” I replied meekly. This was a fairly high-profile job and I didn’t want to mess anything up.

“No. Alex is a woman. We only hire women here.” She said with a tone that said there was no argument about this.

“Umm…ma’am?” Her assistant, who I later learned was named Emily Wilson, interrupted. “This apparently is Alex. HR must have made a mistake. He’s also already signed the employment paperwork, so if we fire him, we’re going to take a hit and he might have grounds to…” She whispered “litigate.”

“FUCK…” She yelled and stormed out.

Emily looked at me apologetically. “She’s probably going to tear into HR right now, so you’re off the hook.” Emily stands at around 5'2" with a slender yet athletic build, honed from years of dancing and hiking. Her hair is a rich, red hair that falls in loose waves down her back, and her skin is a smooth, creamy complexion with a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose.

“Thank you. This isn’t how I expected to be starting my new job. But hey, can’t get worse than that, right?” I replied, trying to be friendly.

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on it. Angela…she isn’t going to take this lying down. If I were you, I’d consider quitting.”

“Oh…” I looked down and wondered what I’d done in a previous life to deserve this.

What followed was six months of misery, only alleviated by the fact that Angela had a penchant for hiring attractive women. Sadly, everyone on staff saw that I had the absolute ire of Angela, and treated me like dirt, and with my college loans, rent, other bills pilling up, and no other call backs from sending out my resume, I was stuck, which brought me to today.

“Hurry up asshole! I need that email!” Angela yelled at me. This was her standard method of addressing me. An insult shouted followed by a command with no explanation. In this particular case, the issue was an email she had accidently deleted.

“I can’t get it back, Angela. You have your email set to auto-empty deleted items, and you never set up the backup account like I asked you too.” I replied, not thinking about what I was saying until it was too late. I looked up to see her face turning red in anger, matching Emily’s fiery red hair.

“YOU..FUCK…” She was sputtering with rage at this point. I began wondering what my obituary would read as she reared up to her full height, towering over me, her face contorting with rage. As suddenly as the storm came on though, it passed. The rage melted off her face and was replaced with an eerie calm.

“What are we even paying you for if you can’t handle a simple IT task like this. I might not be able to fire you without issues, but I control your tasking. From now on, your primary job is to clean out the basement. Have fun.”

And that is how I found myself in a musty basement, absolutely filled to the brim with junk and boxes, cursing out my boss.

The next several hours were spent going through boxes and making various piles to keep or dispose of. Near the end of the day, moving a desk aside, I noticed a small indent in the wall. Probing at it, I found some lose boards on the wall.

“What the hell….” Pulling aside the board, I saw what looked to be an old PC secreted back there. I let out a low, long whistle of appreciation. “Damn, an IBM PC 5150…This thing is the grandaddy of PCs.” I muttered.

Several minutes later I had it set up, and wiped the dust off the built in monitor. I hit the power button and waited as it booted up, painfully slow. Finally, after about 10 minutes a welcome screen popped up, and a tinny voice rang out.

“Welcome to realtrax management software. Acquiring company parameters….Acquiring….Acquiring….”

“Huh…what the hell is it “acquiring” I muttered. “its not connected to the internet and its an 8-bit computer…”

“Company Parameters established: Artemis’ Activists. Select Function” The voice rang out again, showing a list of commands. I selected “list personnel” and waited as a new screen flashed. This one brought up a list of all the employees in the organization, with Angela Davis listed at the top, all the way down with me listed at the bottom.

“Who the fuck took the time to input all the employees into an 8-bit computer.” I decided to pull up Angela’s profile.

ANGELA DAVIS

Job Title: CEO

ADD FIELD EDIT FIELD REMOVE FIELD

“Huh…that’s a little sparse. What a weird ass program.” On a lark, I entered “edit field”, and changed her title.

“Change accepted” The voice rang out, the entry now reading:

ANGELA DAVIS

Job Title: Queen Bitch

ADD FIELD EDIT FIELD REMOVE FIELD

Laughing to myself, I shut the computer down, already thinking about whether I could sell this dinosaur as a collectors item or if I should just keep it as a souvenir of a different era.

The next day, I pulled into the company parking lot. Walking towards the door, I noticed Kiersten White, the organizations’ property manager messing with Angela’s reserved parking spot.

“Hey Kiersten, whats going on.”

The attractive blonde tomboy turned and glanced back at me. “Oh hey Alex. Just updating Angela’s spot with her new job title.” Turning back she continued to screw in the sign. Looking over her shoulder, my jaw dropped.

“What…the…Fuck…” I muttered under my breath. The sign proclaimed, in bold, block letters, “QUEEN BITCH”. “Kiersten…are you sure that’s a good idea? Won’t Angela be pissed?”

“Why would she be pissed? This is her job title?” She responded, a look of utter bewilderment on her face. “Now, if you’re just going to ask me nonsensical questions, can you leave me alone so I can finish up here?”

I rushed down to the storage unit in the basement. “Ok…holy shit…its gotta be a coincidence, right?” I asked myself. “I…Maybe a new test?”

I quickly start up the machine, drumming my fingers impatiently as the old computer slowly runs through its boot process. I select Emily’s profile and bring it up.

EMILY WILSON

Job Title: Secretary

ADD FIELD EDIT FIELD REMOVE FIELD

I select “add field” and make my edits, and the computers tinny voice rings out again. “Change accepted”.

EMILY WILSON

Job Title: Secretary

Uniform: Sexy secretary lingerie

ADD FIELD EDIT FIELD REMOVE FIELD

I paced around the storage room until lunch, too nervous and excited to do much of anything else. How long did it take for the changes to take effect? Is it retroactive? Kiersten seemed to think that the ridiculous job title was normal, so does everyone rationalize it?

When noon rolled around, I decided to see if anything had changed. I made my way up to Emily’s desk and my jaw damn near hit the floor. Her current outfit consisted of a white button up shirt that was completely unbuttoned, only held together by with the ends being tied off across her chest, exposing ample amounts of her cleavage and underboob. She also had on a plaid miniskirt which was, for the most part, completely sheer, revealing the fact that she had on a skimpy thong underneath. The bottoms of the skirt clipped onto dark thigh high stockings and finally, she had on some stiletto heels.

“Emily…whats with the new uniform?”

She shook her head ruefully. “I know, right? Who the hell is even making these dress code policies? Angela said she’d look into it, but for now I guess I’m stuck.”

Almost as if the mention of her name summoned her, Angela stomped out of her office. “Alex…What the hell are you doing out of your hole? Don’t you have work to do, or are you going to spend all day ogling my secretary?” she barked out harshly.

“No…I was just coming to give you a progress report…Queen Bitch.” I held my breath, fully expecting to be slapped or fired on the spot.

“Well…I guess you can learn some manners…but don’t think calling me by my title gets you off the hook for your gross incompetence. Now get back to work.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and slammed her door behind her.

My head was spinning with the possibilities. Suddenly, my future was looking a lot brighter.