No Monsters, Just Us

In the monster offices, nothing new ever happened.

Days blended together so thoroughly that even the main monster in charge sometimes forgot what was actually going on inside the building. The writer had left this story on hiatus for so long that even he no longer remembered what he had originally intended to tell.

The offices ran on habit, on routine, on quiet corruption.

But Brie knew exactly what she was doing.

Back then, before everything changed, she was on her knees in her boss’s office, positioned directly in front of him. Papers were stacked neatly on the desk above her. Contracts, reports, approvals. From the outside, it could have been mistaken for dedication. From the inside, Brie understood the truth far too well.

This is the price, she thought, keeping her expression neutral. This is how things move forward here.

Later that same day, Brie was promoted.

That was how things worked in the monster offices. Favor turned into authority. Submission reshaped itself into power. Soon, order finally began to take shape, and Brie ruled with a firm hand, efficient, controlled, respected. She told herself she had earned it.

Yet there was always something else she had to deal with. Something just as demanding. Almost every day.

She satisfied her boss completely, but the real problem wasn’t how to please him anymore.

It was how to get past him.

How to stop doing whatever he wanted. How to reclaim her autonomy without tearing everything down. Every night, Brie lay awake wondering how much of herself she had already given away and how much she had left.

Eventually, she made a decision.

She left.

Starting her own newspaper firm wasn’t just a career move; it was an escape. A declaration. She wanted to build something clean, something powerful, something hers. Monsters were not welcome. Men were not welcome either, monster or human, it didn’t matter. They were off the table entirely.

With women, Brie reasoned, I can focus. I can control myself. I can leave desire behind.

The business did well.

The newsroom was sharp, disciplined, and fast-moving. Among all her reporters, one stood above the rest.

Emma.

A middle-aged woman with a darker skin tone and a presence that filled any room she entered. Ruthless when it came to her work, relentless in pursuit of truth. Her voice didn’t match her appearance at all soft, almost angelic, capable of disarming people before they even realized it. Brie noticed how others leaned in when Emma spoke.

And Brie noticed other things too.

She couldn’t tell if Emma’s legs were truly that long, or if her skirts were simply cut just short enough to suggest it. Either way, Brie found herself watching longer than she should have.

This isn’t why you built this place, she reminded herself more than once.

One afternoon, Brie called Emma into her office.

She told herself it was about work. About performance. About leadership. Brie was the boss now no monsters, no men, just professionalism and respect.

That illusion lasted only seconds.

As soon as Emma closed the door, the tension that had been simmering for weeks snapped. They were on their knees almost instantly, mouths meeting with urgency neither of them bothered to deny. Brie moved without hesitation, pushing Emma backward until she hit the floor, staring down at her with a dominance Brie pretended had surprised her.

So this is what control looks like now, Brie thought.

She pinned Emma’s wrists above her head, pressing them firmly against the floor. Emma gasped but didn’t resist. Brie kissed her again slower, deeper, deliberate. Buttons came undone one by one. Breath grew uneven.

Brie’s mouth traced along Emma’s jaw, her neck, lingering just long enough to draw a shiver before moving lower. Emma’s dark hair spread across the floor as Brie pulled it back, harder than she probably should have.

Emma noticed.

She felt it.

And she let it happen.

I knew this was coming, Emma thought, her pulse racing.

She followed every instruction, every unspoken command. Brie used her authority fully now, shaping it into something intimate and overwhelming. The office meant for decisions and discipline filled with heat, tension, and silence broken only by breath.

Power hadn’t disappeared.

It had simply changed hands again.

When everything finally settled and the room grew quiet, Emma stood near the desk, straightening her skirt carefully. She buttoned her blouse one button at a time, smoothing the fabric as if restoring order to herself. She fixed her hair, took a slow breath, then looked at Brie with a faint, knowing smile.

“I guess I am promoted now?”