HANO YONO MANAGING DIRECTOR’s PA, IS HAVING A BAD DAY.

10:17am Sunny Day Mall. Floor 6. Head Office of Wet “N” Antics Corporation.

Yumi Takahashi’s (Managing Director) Office.

Hidden behind Yumi Takahashi's desk, Hana Yono the MD’s PA could hear the muffled sounds of enthusiastic sex and the occasional yelp of confused distress as her colleagues were bred one-by-one. It felt surreal, to say the least – a Saturday that had started as a routine trip in to the office just to check on Yumi’s emails while she was out at the investor meeting now had Hana crouched low and hiding, her heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and trepidation.

It wasn't career considerations that prevented Hana from standing up and accepting her fate; it was the image of her fiancé, Isamu’s face—noble and earnest—and the knowledge that he would be understandably mortified to learn that his bride to be had been knocked up by a colleague. In fact, Isamu could be more than a little xenophobic, particularly of Americans. He hadn’t even wanted her to go along with the transfer to the United States two years ago. The mere idea of explaining how she got bred, by an American no less, made Hana’s cheeks burn with embarrassment even here in the comparative privacy of her hiding spot.

She had wanted to type out a quick message to Yumi to warn her of the madness engulfing the office, (in fact, she had half a mind to call the police!). Warning her boss seemed critical—it was the least she could do to maintain some semblance of order amidst the chaos. But of course, the same rotten luck that had always seemed to cross her path had afflicted her now.

When Grant had begun his supposed comedy bit with the Pass and Naomi, Hana had been walking over to speak with Emi. She had paused by Brandon Smith’s desk. And then when Martin had dropped the Breeding Passes so casually, she had in a moment of blind panic fled into Yumi’s office. And of course, Hana had promptly left her phone on Brandon Smith’s desk where she had been standing. “Stupid, stupid,” she berated herself.

Hana peeked cautiously over the edge of the desk, securing a limited view of the open plan Main Office area through the glass window that fronted Yumi’s office. From her vantage point Hana spotted a mess of blonde hair under one of the desk islands.

It was Tsumugi the young bookkeeper, with her dyed blonde hair. She was just visible through the glass-partitioned wall. She had hidden herself under a huge island of desks in the Main Office and was right now tucked deep amongst the cables and computer towers. The petite woman had somehow gone unnoticed.

Extraordinarily sharp eyed, the bookkeeper made eye contact with Hana herself. Tsumugi, had a **** look and she was obviously seeking confirmation or warning of whether the coast was clear.

Hana, genuinely not wanting to expose her colleague, risked a hurried glance. Her large mass of curly chestnut hair brushing against the large desk as she peaked out. She only had a tight angled view out of the MD’s office, and so could only see a limited view of the overall expanse of the office floor. In the distance, there were still couples going for it, but in this area of the office the men had moved on. Not seeing anyone from her view, she gave a hasty jerk of her head, signalling 'now'—the intent to propel Tsumugi into action was raw and unmistakable.

Tsumugi took her cue, her small form darting out with a flurry of panic-stricken energy. Hana realized too late the error in her premature all-clear; the African-American Sales Rep Tyler Johnson, fresh from fucking the head of HR and now full prepared with a Breeding Pass and an erection to match, had caught the slight movement.

The betrayal cast in Tsumugi's look towards Hana was visceral as she spotted Tyler, even as she turned fleet-footed, her small frame sprinting away with the black stud in hot pursuit. Hana, still secreted behind the desk, could only watch with a sinking feeling as a good intention spiralled into chaos and Tsumugi became the unwilling focus of the game's most primal chase.

Feeling guilty about unintentionally throwing Tsumugi under the bus but knowing she had to seize the moment, Hana darted from her hiding place. Brandon’s desk and her phone lay just a few desks away, but she nearly froze when she saw Brandon Smith himself also just a few feet away. Luckily the young man had his back to her and was entering a side office. Beyond Brandon, Aiko Waisho was buttoning up her jeans. “Poor Aiko,” Hana thought sympathetically, as she realised Brandon had most likely used a Breeding Pass on her. Though to Hana’s mind having observed the drama of Brandon’s obvious and unrequited crush on Aiko from afar, she felt the young female Sales Rep had led Brandon on a little bit too much, whilst leaning heavily on the plausible denial they were just friends.

The P.A. kept moving, keeping low, her skirt clinging tightly to her well-toned backside as she weaved through the maze of office furniture. Her breaths came in controlled whispers, each step measured and silent against the carpeted floor.

She felt like maybe her luck was turning because a few seconds later she had reached Brandon’s desk without the various male deviants that were still in the main office noticing her. Most were occupied with a female colleague or had moved on to areas of the Wet “N” Antics property that wasn’t aware of the Breeding Day madness.

Her fingers grazed the cold surface of her mobile device, and she snatched it up, thumbing in Yumi's number from heart. She pressed the dial button. Hana inhaled sharply, ready to sprint for the main exit. Escape was all that mattered now — for Yumi's sake, her own, and the honour of her soon-to-be husband. Hana clutched her phone tightly as she sprinted towards the reception area, her heartbeat thundering in her ears with a cacophony that matched the madness she'd left behind. The usually bustling hub was deserted, the receptionists having wisely abandoned their posts early as soon as they saw what had unfolded.

The main exit was tantalizingly close now, the glass doors offering a glimpse of freedom from the surreal events of the day. As she approached, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her relief was cut short by the sight of Trevor Dudley, the Event's Liaison manager, just outside. “More cursed bad luck!” thought Hana promising to herself that she would give an offering at a temple when she was back home.

Trevor's fists pounded against the glass; his desperation clear as he tried to re-enter. Yet, it wasn’t the frantic knocking that stilled Hana’s steps. She wasn’t sure whether it was her imagination but Trevor had a dark look etched across his features, transforming the usually lecherous smirk into something far more sinister.

Hana couldn’t recall Trevor’s movement’s when the chaos began. Did he brandish one of those damnable cards in his pocket? A hunter locked out of his hunting grounds? Hana couldn’t quite tell, and her fingers hesitated on the door lock, doubting, while Trevor eagerly encouraged her to open the Main Exit.

Meanwhile, her phone, was still pressed against her ear, echoing with the ring tone that signalled Yumi’s absence.

Biting her lip, Hana weighed her options. She needed to get out now! but that would be a terrible mistake if Trevor had a Breeding Pass. With no answer from Yumi, she deferred making the decision about Trevor for a few more moments and opened up her text messenger service to send a written warning to Yumi.

Hana's thumbs flew across the screen, a text message spelling out the insanity of the day to her boss, Yumi. But before she had finished drafting the message she heard the soft, deliberate footsteps approaching from behind.

Turning, she saw Naomi, her expression one of commiseration. The brand manager wore a look of regret, the kind that spoke volumes about the Day’s unexpected depths. "I am pretty sure Trevor got Asuka with one of those passes," Naomi said softly in their native tongue. Considering the circumstances, the breach of Wet “N” Antics United States-office language-policy was hardly relevant. "He's likely not out there banging for his re-entry but for another... prey."

Hana's pulse quickened at the revelation. She should have known. She’d been panicking even thinking of letting him in. Naomi’s presence, however, was more reassuring, a colleague who had been there from the start. “Contacting the boss?” the red lipped Brand Manager said pointing at the phone and correctly intuiting Hana’s intentions.

“Yes,” said Hana, “she needs to know, to stay away and contact Corporate in Tokyo.”

"Why don't we send that message to Yumi from an office away from the main area?" Naomi suggested gently, beginning to lead the P.A. away from the reception and back to the main office. "It's safer, and we won't attract attention. After Grant got me, I went to one of the back-office conference rooms off the Main Office arrangement. I am waiting there whilst my taxi arrives, I’m sure no will mind if I take the rest of the day off. A few guys stuck their heads around the corner but they know I’m done so no one is bothering that area anymore.” Hana nodded it seemed sensible. “You know conference room 05.6. It's just around the corner," said Naomi reassuringly.

Still clutching her phone with the unsent message, Hana nodded, allowing herself to be gently led to the conference room. At the threshold Naomi motioned towards the long conference table and said, “you can send the text from here." As Hana stepped in ahead of the Brand Manager, Naomi turned away, pretending to check the coast was clear but taking the time to rapidly send her own text message telling Grant to return, that went unnoticed by Hana.

Naomi closed the conference room door behind her.

Naomi sat down beside Hana. As the PA was rapidly composing the message to Yumi, Naomi's voice was honeyed calm as she said, "let's think about this for a moment, what exactly do we want to tell Yumi?”

"We need to warn her of course,” Hana insisted.

“Yes, yes," Naomi repeated, her voice lilting with agreement, "a warning, of course. But what kind of warning should we send? We have to be precise. If we are too literal Yumi won’t believe us, too frantic Yumi will of course return as a precaution, and too cryptic she won’t understand." As Hana began to type, Naomi leaned over, her finger hovering over the screen, lightly suggesting alterations and interjecting with supposed corrections.

Hana felt her frustration mounting. Naomi's objections seemed pedantic, each suggestion resetting their progress, stalling for time. The PA’s eyes flicked up, meeting Naomi's gaze, trying to decipher the intent behind the stalling tactics.

Naomi’s eyes held Hana's for a moment too long, almost challenging her to piece the puzzle together before her focus shifted subtly, pointing Hana's attention to the whiteboard in the conference room. The names on it were half-erased, but the deliberate smudges revealed haunting remnants of an earlier strategy session.

"Why are the names...?" Hana started, her voice trailing off as the realization gripped her. The room suddenly felt much smaller, the air thickening with tension…