Chapter One

Since I was young, I loved computers.

I loved everything about them. The multitude of information all at my fingertips. The possibilities were limitless. That’s why I became a programmer. And I loved it. I’d started at a young age, learning the basics on the bulky laptop my parents bought me. It was like magic.

By the time I was in college, I was already top of my class. Dr. Tygar, one of my professors, had high hopes for me.

“Gabrielle, if talent was all that mattered, you’d have your pick of any job,” he said. “But the tech world is a male dominated industry.”

I didn’t want to believe him back then, but as time went on, I saw it for myself.

After college, I landed a gig at a small tech company in El Paso—that’s where I met Mark.

It was a small start-up, nothing fancy. The work was basic, a bit boring if you ask me, but it was a chance for me to prove myself. To show the world what I was capable of.

Unfortunately, the guys there were complete assholes. I’d dealt with my fair share of jerks in college, but this was a whole different level.

Being a woman in the workforce is tough. Being a woman in the tech industry is even tougher. And it’s extremely tough when you have F-cup breasts.

Guys in programming aren’t exactly known for their social skills and as a result there were always a lot of uncomfortable stares.

I’m not sure if most guys realized how obvious it was or if they just didn’t care. But no matter how much I dressed down—baggy sweatshirts, anything I could find to try and hide my figure—It never really helped.

I’m not ashamed of my body, far from it. As a feminist, I believe every woman should love her own unique figure, no matter what size or shape. But when it came to my job, I wanted to be taken seriously. I didn’t want my breasts to define me. I wanted to be known as the best programmer around, not just “the one with the big boobs”.

The harassment at work was constant. This one guy, Zack, would call me TII. He claimed it was about my math skills, but everyone knew the real meaning.

“Tits Indisputably Included”.

Real mature, right?

But Mark was different. He was kind and treated me with respect, like an actual colleague. Plus he had this nerdy charm I found irresistible.

One day, I worked up the courage to ask him out, and now nearly four years later, we’re still going strong. He’s not just my partner; he’s my best friend. We can talk about anything for hours and never get bored. I don’t know if I’ll ever get married or not, but he’s the one I want by my side for the rest of my life.

That’s why it hurt so much when I found out about the promotion.

The position of Lead Programmer had opened up, and not only was I passed over for the job, but our boss offered it to Mark instead. I felt betrayed by my own boyfriend. It was so unfair.

I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but I was the best programmer in the office by far. Far better than him, and he knew it.

If I were a man, it wouldn’t have been a question. I would’ve been promoted a long time ago. But no, talent didn’t mean anything when your looks were a major handicap.

How are you supposed to lead a team that doesn't respect you? It’s ridiculous. And for Mark to just happily accept the position, like it was no big deal?

He should’ve turned it down. He should’ve told them to promote me instead. He should’ve stood up for me.

I’ve had my fair share of betrayals over the years: I’d been cheated on (twice), and even had an ex leak topless pictures of me online. Those all hurt a lot, but somehow, this was even worse. It was a stab in the back from the one person I thought I could trust.

We fought for hours. Then we didn’t speak to each other for days. Neither of us were willing to admit we were wrong.

A few days later, we finally decided to talk things out. About the job, the promotion, the harassment: everything all came at once. I admitted how unhappy I’d been at work, and in life in general. And so we came up with an idea.

We decided it was time for a change. To move somewhere new. Somewhere more progressive. Find a job where I could finally be taken seriously as a programmer. Texas wasn’t cutting it. Even in a liberal city like El Paso, it was still stuck in its conservative ways. A place where many men still held onto traditional values and thought a woman’s place was in the kitchen or barefoot and pregnant.

We needed to go somewhere more open minded. Somewhere where sexual harassment in the workplace was a thing of the past. I’d always heard great things about Silicon Valley. There were lots of tech companies there that had women in leadership roles. Before long, we were packing all our things into the U-Haul and heading to California.

I thought the move would be good for us.

* * *

Things seemed great at first. I’d found a job within just a few days, so much quicker than I expected. A big corporation known as Vision. It was no Google or Meta, but it was definitely a step up.

I thought things would be better at a big corporate gig. I’d convinced myself that the guys in Texas had only got away with it because it was just a little startup. Surely a big corporation like Vision would take workplace issues more seriously and protect itself from any potential lawsuits.

Turns out I was wrong. It was just as bad. Worse even.

“Hey, toots, you get that file I sent you?” Michael asked.

“Don’t call me toots,” I scowled.

“Lighten up. You’d be a lot prettier if you just smiled.”

I shot him a menacing glare. He was such a dick. They were all bad, but he was one of the worst.

The work itself was great. It was finally the challenge I’d been looking for. After being on autopilot for so long, finding a job that truly engaged me was amazing. But why did every guy in the tech industry have to be such a sexist pig?

I thought there would be more female representation in Silicon Valley, instead I was the only woman on my team. Sure, there were other women in the office, but not many, especially among the programmers.

The guys there would all call me demeaning nicknames like “Darlin”, or “Toots”, or “Babe”. Some of them would even wolf-whistle when I walked in. At least the guys in Texas were somewhat subtle about it.

I tried to bury myself in my work and ignore them as best I could. Until one day, I noticed something strange was going on. People seemed to be giving me odd looks or whispering about me just out of view.

When I was nineteen, I dated this guy, Brian. I made the naïve mistake of sharing nudes with him and after we broke up, he leaked them online as revenge.

Luckily, I was able to catch it pretty quick. I spent what little money I had at the time hiring a service that combs through the internet and sends takedown notices to any websites with the pictures. I was relieved that after a week or two, my nudes were nowhere to be found. Until today…

I stared at my email. There they were: forwarded to everyone in the office. What the fuck.

I’d never been so upset in my life. I ran straight to the HR office, on the verge of tears, but they told me without knowing who originally sent them there was nothing they could do except “open an investigation”.

“Great, how helpful,” I muttered sarcastically.

I thought the stares were bad before but after the pictures leaked the guys in the office became so incredibly blatant about it. The harassment just got worse and worse. I’d become the butt of all their sexist jokes.

It only got worse. After that, my nudes showed up as my desktop wallpaper, changed by someone when I wasn’t around. Then the next day, they were snuck into my PowerPoint presentation. The guys found it hilarious. They were all laughing. I couldn’t stand being around them.

Then it was my company avatar. My business cards. They even had them printed on coffee mugs. The pictures were everywhere.

Every time I went to HR, they would just tell me they’d “add it to the file,” always dismissing my concerns. It was unbelievable how little they seemed to care. If this wasn’t sexual harassment, then what was? Mark told me I should contact a lawyer, but I didn’t want it to come to that. I just wanted it all to stop.

Silicon Valley is big, but it’s not that big. Last thing I wanted was to be known as the woman who sued her employer. I’d never find a job in tech ever again.

But the constant harassment was draining. I’d went shopping with Mark and bought even bulkier sweaters. The most plain, boring, purposefully unattractive clothes I could possibly find, but it didn’t matter. The damage was already done and nearly the entire office had already seen me topless.

Every single day, I dragged myself home, completely drained. It really started taking a toll on my mental health. Mark was supportive, like always, but he didn’t truly understand what I was going through. Still, I’m glad I had him to talk to. He was good at cheering me up at least.

The harassment continued. One day I was grabbing some papers from the printer when I felt a hand smack across my butt.

“What the fuck,” I yelled, spinning around.

It was Michael. I was furious. Steam was practically pouring out my nostrils. He had this smug look on his face, that stupid grin of his. I couldn’t believe it. Sharing my nudes was bad enough but now I was being physically assaulted?

I immediately marched over to the HR department and told them what happened. They assured me they’d handle it. Finally, something they couldn’t just brush aside. Over the next several days I waited, fully expecting Michael to be fired, or at the very least suspended. But like everything else, nothing ever happened.

I felt stuck. I couldn’t to quit—we needed the money. Mark still hadn’t found a job.

Feeling defeated, I sat at my desk, staring at a colorful pamphlet that was sitting on a stack of papers.

The title caught my eye: WOMEN IN TECH.

I vaguely remembered seeing a copy in my orientation packet, though I’d never bothered to look at it. Curious, I picked it up and started scanning through the pages. “Networking mixers, workplace rights… sexual harassment seminars”.

I couldn’t believe it. This was exactly what I needed. Maybe they could help me, or at least give me some advice on what to do. This new discovery lit a fire inside of me. I had almost given up hope that things would ever get better.

I called and set up an appointment for later that week. I was originally supposed to meet with Flynn Parson, the CEO, but when I arrived, I was informed he was out of town on business. So instead I’d be meeting with his number two, Sylvia. The secretary at the front desk handed me a tablet and told me to fill out my information while I waited.

After some time, I was escorted to Sylvia’s office.

“Hello, Gabrielle?” she greeted me with a warm smile.

I couldn’t hold back and ended up completely unloading about the whole situation. Sylvia listened attentively as I struggled to hold back tears describing the relentless harassment I’d been enduring.

Her gaze was intense but comforting. She was remarkably emphatic and understanding. Sharing all my feelings with her felt like unburdening my soul, a release I desperately needed. Mark did the best he could, but he never fully grasped the unique struggles of being a woman in the tech industry.

“So, can you help me?” I pleaded. “I’m at my wits end. I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Of course,” Sylvia replied, her smile unwavering. “You’re not the first woman to face these challenges and unfortunately, you won’t be the last. Women in any male-dominated industry have always had these problems. But that’s why we’re here.”

A wave of relief washed over me. Like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It felt good knowing that someone finally had my back. For the first time in a long time, things didn’t feel completely hopeless.

She told me about an upcoming event they were hosting: a social mixer where I could connect with other women in the tech industry.

“That sounds fantastic,” I replied eagerly.

I left her office filled with optimism and hope. Maybe things were finally going to change.

* * *

A few days later, I arrived at the mixer. The event was in the evening after work. A few dozen women were huddled together in smaller cliques. I’d always been shy when it came to meeting new people. I made my way over to the table with drinks and snacks and poured myself some punch.

“Is this your first time?” someone asked.

“Yeah,” I said meekly.

“Me too. I’m Jennifer.”

I reached out to shake her hand.

“Gabrielle.”

“Nice to meet you.”

We talked for a while. About our jobs, and the harassment we’d been dealing with. It was nice meeting someone with the same problems. It made me feel less alone.

After some time, two other women came over. One of them introduced herself as Heather. She told us she’d been coming to these for a few weeks now, gushing about how great these events had been in helping her fit in at work. It gave me hope for the future.

I asked Heather if she had any advice for us. She thought for a moment.

“Women in Tech should be team players. It’s important to keep the people you work with happy.”

It took a moment for me to process what she’d just said. The words echoed around in my head. My mind was spinning with questions. Was that my problem? Had I not been a team player? Was it all my fault? Had I isolated my coworkers by trying to be the best programmer?

Maybe we’d got off on the wrong foot. Maybe I’d made a bad first impression. Perhaps if I just tried to be more of a team player, then the harassment might finally stop.

“Women in Tech should save their energy for serious issues. Stuff that really matters,” the woman next to Heather added. It was a lot to think about. I felt a bit dizzy.

The next week at work I tried applying their advice.

Heather said I should be more of a team player. Admittedly it was a difficult task. How was I supposed to be a team player when nobody on the team took me seriously?

“Hey Toots,” Sean said while passing by my desk.

I sighed and tried to ignore it. The next time someone made a joke about my tits, I just took a deep breath and brushed it off. I needed to try and save my energy for serious issues. I wasn’t going to let them keep ruining my mood. Maybe if I just quit reacting to all the harassment, they’d finally get bored and stop.

I started attending the weekly Women in Tech events. The next week they held a seminar titled “How to Get Ahead in the Tech World”. It was usually the same couple dozen or so women, with a few new people every week. I started networking with the other women. It felt good to be surrounded by other strong independent women programmers. I wasn’t alone in this.

I started attending the weekly Women in Tech events. It was usually the same couple dozen or so women, with a few new people every week. I started networking with the other women. It felt good to be surrounded by other strong independent women programmers. I wasn’t alone in this.

The next week they held a seminar called: “How to Get Ahead in the Tech World”. That night, they brought in a guest speaker: a female programmer in her mid 30s with an impressive resume.

Her advice? “Women in Tech should use every asset they have available.”

She had a lot of great suggestions and tips, but for some reason that one piece of advice really stuck with me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was simple yet profound.

It made so much sense. I mean why wouldn’t you want to use every asset you had available? It’d be dumb not to. The other women seemed to agree. It was hard enough being a woman in the tech industry. We needed to do whatever we could to succeed in a male dominated workplace. We needed to use every asset we had available to us.

That night I stared at myself in the mirror while getting ready for bed. The words swirled around in my head. Women in Tech… should use every asset… they have available.

Women in Tech should use every asset they have available.

It was such great advice. I kept thinking about it over and over again. Making a mental list of all my different skills and assets.

I glanced down at my chest. Were my breasts an asset? It certainly never seemed like it. They’d always been a hindrance to me being taken seriously.

Maybe I’d been looking at things the wrong way…

***

At the next Women in Tech seminar, a suave, well-dressed man moved gracefully around the room. I immediately recognized him from his photograph on the pamphlet: Flynn Parson. But something about him gave me bad vibes.

“He’s cute,” Heather remarked with a flirty smile.

Sure, he was attractive, there was no denying that. As he glanced in our direction, our eyes briefly met.

“Shit,” I whispered, quickly shifting my focus to the floor.

Sneaking another peek, I caught his intense gaze locking onto mine. It felt like he could see right through me. He casually strolled over.

“Good evening, Ladies. Looking great. How’ve you been enjoying these little mixers of ours.”

“They’re fantastic!” Heather said. “Incredibly helpful.”

“Absolutely life-changing!” another woman added.

“Happy to hear it.”

Avoiding his gaze, I focused on the floor, feeling uneasy around him. I mumbled something about needing the restroom and slipped away.

As I walked off, I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on my back, but I shrugged it off, not willing to turn around and check.

I decided to text Mark.

“think ill head home early tonight. love you <3”

I lingered in the bathroom for some time. After a while, I hurried out to the parking lot, trying not to look up. Just as I reached for the door to my car, a familiar voice caught my attention.

“Gabrielle?”

On impulse, I turned around. There he was: Flynn Parson. Ours eyes met, sending a shiver down my spine.

His smile was warm and disarming. “Leaving so soon?”

“Uh—yeah, sorry. Just feeling a bit tired,” I mumbled, trying to hide the lightheadedness that was creeping over me.

His gaze held a commanding intensity, fitting of a powerful CEO. He projected an aura of leadership, the kind that effortlessly inspired trust. I found myself unable to look away. His deep brown eyes were like endless pools, drawing me in with their depts. Like I could easily get lost inside them.

“You should stay a while,” he softly suggested. “It’s not often I come to these. When I do I like to get to know everyone.”

His words resonated with me. This was the first time I’d encountered him at one of these events. Usually, it was Sylvia overseeing things.

“Maybe I should stay for a while,” I thought. I certainly didn’t want to seem unfriendly or impolite. “Maybe I should get to know him better.”

After heading back inside, we chatted for a while. He seemed genuinely interested in my life, so I told him all about myself. Anything he wanted to know. Talking with him was incredibly uplifting. It really boosted your confidence that a man like him was interested in you.

Before long, I realized I’d completely misread him. I felt guilty for jumping to conclusions and thinking there was something off about him. Turns out, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

He had a magnetic presence that drew everyone in. You could just feel the excitement in the air. He impressed everyone with stories of all the amazing places he’d traveled to, each more fascinating than the last. I’d never seen such a captivated group of people before. He had an innate charm and charisma—like what you might expect from a President—completely captivating and irresistibly charming.

I stayed for a lot longer than I thought I would. It was like a party that nobody wanted to end. But once Flynn Parson eventually left everyone else did too.

Back home, Mark was out like a light. Too bad, I was *really* in the mood. It’d been a few weeks since we last had sex. Every inch of me was tingling with arousal. So I closed my eyes and let my fingers explore between my thighs.

I climaxed three times that night.

* * *

Things at work were starting to improve. The advice Sylvia had given us was really working. That didn’t mean the guys had stopped with the sexist jokes, or demeaning nicknames, but it was different. I felt more like I was in on the joke rather than being the butt of it. Besides, I had to admit, some of them were even a little funny.

Likewise, I didn’t let the names bother me. Sure, I would’ve preferred that they stopped entirely but that wasn’t an option. So instead, I chose to not let myself get mad about it.

I couldn’t control what they do, only how I react to it. It’s all about having a positive outlook. For months I’d been letting a few little jokes ruin my entire day.

It was partially my fault. I hadn’t been as much of a team player as I should have. Part of the reason I felt so isolated was because I’d been distancing myself from everyone. It was unfair for me to judge them without first getting to know them.

So I started making friends with my co-workers. Learning more about them. I was surprised to find out that Michael had a fiancé who was five months pregnant. I helped give advice to Sean about an argument he had with his girlfriend the night before about forgetting her birthday (yikes).

I even talked with Josh about some of the latest news in quantum computing. He knew a lot more about programming than I’d ever given him credit for. They all did. Work started becoming so much easier once I started getting along with everyone.

It’s important to keep the people you work with happy.

Things at home were improving as well. Now that my mood was better, our sex life returned to how it was before. Maybe even a more. I hadn’t realized just how much my sour attitude had killed my sex drive these past couple months. I’m sure all the moping I’d been doing wasn’t much of a turn-on for Mark either.

Every week there were a couple Women in Tech events. I always looked forward to them, eager for any new piece of advice. Since coming to these mixers, things had slowly been improving for all of us. Some nights they would have a guest speaker, but most times it was just women getting together and socializing. It was exactly what I needed.

Every week a few new faces would pop up. Women who’d been having a tough time fitting in. A group of us was gathered around one of the new attendees: a girl named Sara. She was fresh out of college and looked like she had been crying earlier.

Sara poured her heart out to us about the guys at her job and just how awful they’d been to her.

When she had finally finished with her story, I looked directly at her and smiled.

“Women in Tech should save their energy for serious issues,” I told her. “Stuff that really matters.”

She looked confused. Like what I’d said had been in a completely different language. Maybe that was the wrong moment to try and give advice.

Later that night I talked more with Sylvia. She complimented my outfit. “Women in Tech need to look their best,” she added. “Looking good is feeling good.”

I agreed, of course. Everyone should look their best but especially women. It was important to look nice.

But honestly, what I was wearing was nothing special. A pair of jeans and one of the bulky sweaters I had bought back when I first started at Vision. I wasn’t even wearing any make-up.

“That top is so cute on you,” I told her. A V-neck with just a tasteful amount of cleavage. It looked good on Sylvia, but I knew something like that would look obscene on me.

“Wish I could get away with wearing something like that,” I mused.

That was another one of the downsides of F-cup breasts. I couldn’t get away with wearing the same cute outfits my friends did without being accused of being an attention whore or a slut. My breasts inadvertently made everything sexual.

“Why can’t you?” Sylvia asked, as if the reason wasn’t obvious.

“Well, I mean it would look different on me. It’d attract lots of unwanted attention.”

She looked at me with a solemn face, her eyes fixed on mine.

Uh oh, had I offended her? Of course I had. I basically just implied that men wouldn’t pay attention to her. I was about to apologize when she smiled.

“Because of your tits?” she asked.

“Uh…well, yeah. Because of my breasts,” I corrected.

“Women in Tech should use every asset they have available,” she reminded me. “There’s no use in hiding your tits,” Sylvia said, as a matter of fact. “Everyone knows they’re there.”

Huh…

I considered what she’d just said. I’d never thought of it like that. She was right. It wasn’t like guys didn’t realize what was underneath my bulky sweaters. No matter how much I tried to hide it. If anything, that only brought more attention to them. Made people even more curious as to what was underneath.

That night, I ordered some new clothes online. Nothing too revealing (admittedly a difficult task when you have breasts my size) but it was important for me to look good. I looked at my online cart: a few tops, a cute dress (for outside the office), a couple long skirts. I was happy with my choices. It had been a while since I last bought new clothes, I forgot how fun it could be.

I was excited when my clothes arrived. l matched one of the V-necks with one of my new skirts. Mark questioned my choice in outfit that morning but after I reminded him that women in tech needed to use all their assets, he seemed to understand. There was no use in hiding my tits. Everyone knew they were there.

The guys at the office loved my new outfits.

It’s important to keep the people you work with happy.

I got so many nice compliments. Some of them even wolf whistled when I walked in! Looking good felt good.

In addition to the new clothes, I started doing my make-up every day before work. I didn’t used to wear much.

Women in Tech need to look their best, I thought to myself while touching up my eyeliner.

Things at work were going great. It felt so good to be part of a team.

“Hey, Gaby. You want some coffee?” Josh asked with a playful smile. He was holding the mug with my topless pic on the side.

“You’re so bad, Joshie” I giggled. I still wasn’t happy that my topless pics were still being passed around, but boys will be boys. Women in Tech should save their energy for serious issues. Stuff that really matters.

I pulled up Instagram during one of my breaks, searching for the Women in Tech page that Heather had told me about.

I scrolled a few posts down to a picture of me and Heather at one of the mixers. Some of the comments were nice: “Beautiful” and “So cute”.

The rest were…well, a bit lewder: “sexy af”, “who the chick w the big tits” and “MASSIVE”.

There’s no use hiding them. Everyone knows they’re there.

I closed Instagram and got back to work.

* * *

Flynn Parson showed up again at one of the social mixers a few weeks later. He was talking alone with Heather when Jennifer and I walked up to them.

He looked over in my direction. “Gaby, you came,” he said with a sly smile.

“Course I did,” I replied.

“Jen, you look so nice,” he said.

My eyes immediately locked onto his. He was so charming, so handsome. What an amazing guy. We were all so lucky to have a man like him in charge of the organization. He really knew what it took to succeed as a woman in the tech industry.

“I’m afraid I must get back to my office. Lots to do, just wanted to stop by and say hi.”

He turned to Heather, “Keep up the good work. I’ve heard great things about you from your boss.”

“Thank you, sir,” Heather said giggling, twirling her hair through her finger. Her voice was high pitched and girly.

“And you too Gaby!” He briefly broke the eye contact to sneak a not so brief glance at my chest. “It’s always nice to see you.”

After he left, Jennifer looked over in Heather’s direction. “What the hell was that?”

“…what?” Heather asked, tilting her head to the side. Her voice had returned to normal.

“Thank you, sir!” Jennifer mockingly repeated, imitating her high-pitched tone.

Heather laughed. “Don’t be jealous. Besides, it’s like Mr. Parson said: Women in Tech should be respectful. Without giving respect, how do we expect to be respected in return?”

Suddenly, I felt lightheaded. Jennifer tiled her head to the side. “Women in Tech… should be respectful?” She looked over in my direction. I mulled the advice over in my head.

“Women in Tech… should be respectful,” I agreed. We must first give respect if we wanted to be respected in the workplace.

“Women in Tech should be respectful,” Jennifer repeated, this time more confidently.

That had always been one of my biggest problems. First in Texas and now in California. The men at work never seemed to respect me. It’s why I was always passed over when it came to promotions.

Maybe it was because I never gave them the respect they deserved. How are you supposed to lead a team if they didn’t respect you? I’d been doing everything all wrong. Without giving respect, how do you expect to be respected in return?

“Women in Tech are here to please,” Heather added. I felt so dizzy, like that feeling when you stand up too quickly.

“Women in Tech… are here to please,” Jennifer thoughtlessly echoed. I stared directly into her dilated pupils. My mind clung to the idea like it was a stable arm to grab onto to keep from falling over.

“Women in Tech… are here… to please,” I repeated, individually taking in each word. Of course, they were. She was completely right. Their clients, their bosses, their co-workers. Women in Tech are here to please.

Women in Tech are here to please.

The next day at work, Sean stopped off at my desk. “Hey, sweetheart, let me know when you finish up with that code for the backend. I’m working on the final touches.”

“Of course, sir!” I replied. He looked at me with a confused look and smiled.

“You look sexy today,” he added.

“Mmm, you think so?” I said leaning over, my cleavage nearly spilling out of my tight V-neck. I noticed the growing bulge pressing against his pants. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“I’m glad you like it.”

It was important to keep the people you work with happy.

I strutted around the office. All eyes were on me. I had to admit all the attention felt really good. For once, I finally found a job where I fit in. Where I felt like a part of the team.

I scrolled through Instagram, liking the various posts from my friends. Heather posted a pic of herself in a swimsuit, it had a ton of likes. I had gotten a bunch of new followers too ever since the Women in Tech page tagged me in that picture.

A new post from them showed up in my feed. It read: “Sign up for the Secret Santa. It’s the season of giving and Women in Tech should give more than they receive.” A secret Santa, how fun, I thought. Can’t wait to sign up. I love giving gifts.

At home, Mark seemed to have a problem with the way I talked to my co-workers over the phone. He’d been so judgmental lately. He seemed to have a problem with a lot of the things I’d been doing. But once I explained things to him, he seemed to understand quickly enough. It had just been a while since he had worked as a programmer. He probably just forgot it was like for Women in Tech.

I loved pleasing him, making him feel so good with my mouth, with my pussy, even with my tits.

Women in Tech are here to please.

I’d been so unbelievably horny lately. It was hard to go more than a few hours without thinking of sex.

I had just finished cooking dinner for Mark. Women in Tech should give more than they receive. A burger with some fries on the side. I waltzed into the living room wearing nothing but an apron. Women in Tech need to look their best.

I handed him the plate.

“Thanks, babe.”

I smiled as I sat next to him, turning the TV on. I rested my legs across his lap while we watched YouTube videos.

The next Tuesday at work, Michael squeezed my butt while I was at the photocopier. “Hey, sexy, you ready for the team-building exercises? You’re on my team.”

“What exercises?” I asked.

“Didn’t you read the memo? They’re supposed to help with morale.”

“I must’ve missed it.” I replied. “I won’t let you down, sir!”

I was shocked to find that today’s event was a twerking contest.

I was reluctant, not wanting to participate. But then I quickly remembered the latest post I had seen on Instagram.

Women in Tech need to be competitive.

The words echoed in my mind. There were only a handful of girls in the office who signed up. Each of us had one of the guys as our coaches. The rest were going to be the judges. Michael whispered to me. “You got this, Gabs. You have the best ass in the office. Now I just need to you to shake it like your life depends on it.”

I was so nervous. I’d never twerked before, but I wasn’t going to let my team down. Women in Tech should be team players. Luckily, I was wearing yoga pants and a low-cut top. I hoped that would help.

First up was Jackie. She was skinny with not much of a butt. Not that mine was huge or anything but it was something at least. She awkwardly tried twerking. A few of the guys booed. The others laughed. I felt bad for her.

After, that was Michelle. I recognized her from one of the Women in Tech mixers though I had never actually talked with her. She was from a different department at Vision. She was a little chubby but gifted with a big ass. Much bigger than mine. She looked as if she had done this before, twerking expertly.

The guys cheered and clapped. Several of them were recording with their phones. One last girl went up and gave a respectable performance.

Finally, it was my turn. I had butterflies in my stomach.

“You got this, sugartits,” Michael said, patting my ass encouragingly.

I nervously walked up to the front of the room and turned around, my back facing the audience. There were even a few faces I had never seen before. I bent my legs and got into the squat position. I may not have twerked before, but I’ve always been a quick learner. That’s part of what made me such a great programmer.

Someone whistled and the others laughed. Here goes nothing.

I started shaking my butt back and forth, desperately hoping everyone would enjoy the show I was putting on.

Women in Tech are here to please.

Some of the guys started to cheer. They liked it! I got into the groove of things, fueled by the encouragement. Bouncing my hips, swaying my behind up and down.

There was something so… arousing about pleasing my co-workers. It was so very satisfying.

A round of applause erupted as I finished. I walked over to Michael and wrapped my arms around his waist.

“How’d I do?” I asked, looking up at him. He was tall, well over six feet. And handsome, I had to admit.

“Toots, you were damn hot,” he replied, smacking my ass again. “I can’t even get my fiancé to do that for me.”

I was beaming with excitement. “Thank you, sir!” The judges deliberated for a few minutes before announcing a winner.

“First place goes to… Gaby!”

I couldn’t believe it, I won! I actually won! A wave of pleasure flowed through my entire body. Some of the other guys patted my ass in congratulations as they left the room. I could sense the heated gazes of jealousy from the other women. I walked over to them and told them I thought they did great too. They politely nodded, clearly holding back contempt for my victory.

Women in Tech need to be competitive.

After leaving the conference room, I’d realized how incredibly aroused I’d become. My ass had always been a sensitive area for me. In the bedroom, all it took was a few touches in the right areas to get me going. The combination of putting on a show and the smacks to my rear had really turned me on. I couldn’t wait til I got home. I ran into the women’s restroom and fingered myself in one of the stalls. I loudly moaned as I came. It felt so damn good.

Next Tuesday was strip poker. Little did they know, I played a ton of online poker in college. It was a smaller, more intimate group this time, just the five of us who were working on the same project. These team building exercises were really working, I’d never felt closer to my co-workers.

I ended up winning without having to remove too many of my clothes. Just my jacket, shoes, socks, and finally my pants. My shirt would’ve been next to go but in a stroke of luck I ended up making a flush on the river. Their disappointment was palpable. It was hilarious seeing the guys down to their underwear. I tried not to stare at their bulges.

The week after that was a wet t-shirt contest. It was a nice sunny day. The guys had convinced a couple more girls around the office to join this time. One of the women who had called the twerking contest “disgusting and sexist” had apparently decided she was tired of feeling left out. I can’t really blame her. Women in Tech should be team players. I looked over at my competition, we were all wearing tight white shirts.

I knew I had this one in the bag. It was what I was born for. With tits like these, how could I lose? I proudly held my chest up high.

One by one, the guys splashed us each with a bucket of water. When it came to my turn, Joshie hurled the bucket in my direction. I shrieked as the freezing water soaked through my clothes, my shirt clinging to my skin. It was even colder than I expected. My shirt was completely see-through. My hard nipples poked through my thin pink bra. They tingled with arousal.

“And the winner is Gaby! The programmer with the biggest tits in Silicon Valley!” The guys all laughed and cheered. I laughed too. Steve walked over and put a sash around my neck, brushing against my sensitive nipples. I couldn’t help but let out a moan of pleasure.

I won again! Mark’s gonna be so proud of me. Thankfully, there was only an hour left of work, it was hard to concentrate on anything with my soaking wet clothes. Next time, I’ll need to bring something else to change into. The sex that night with Mark was best I’d ever had.

I ordered some more clothes that week. Some skirts, cute tops, even some lingerie. Stuff I was always too afraid to wear before. I always felt like I needed to hide my body to be taken seriously. It was a naïve way of thinking. I hate that I let myself be shamed into hiding for so long. I can be a great programmer and love my body just the way it is, and I wasn’t going to let anyone force me into thinking otherwise.

Everything was going great. So then why couldn’t I shake the feeling that something was wrong?

* * *

Things at work had been hectic. We were all working hard trying to meet our upcoming deadlines. My new outfits, however, were a huge hit. Everyone loved them, and I loved the way they made me feel. There were also a few new pieces of advice I learned at the mixers over the past few weeks that really helped my outlook.

Women in Tech are here to serve. It was true. All programmers were here to serve some kind of role. We’re here in service to the tech companies we work for. What good is our programming skills if they can’t be put to good use. To provide a service to the clients. We’re here to serve.

Women in Tech need to show off their body. Obviously. Why wouldn’t you? Everyone knows that Women in Tech need to use every asset available. People seemed to love the new outfits and it’s important to keep the people you work with happy.

Women in Tech appreciate pet names. It means they’re being embraced by the team. I’d long since gotten used to the various nicknames at work as just harmless fun, but after hearing this I realized it was more than that.

I had long ago accepted the names, but for some reason I never truly appreciated them. Once I did, I began noticing a strong feeling of arousal whenever someone said one. All it took was a few pet names to get me to finger myself in the bathroom stall. It was all so much to take in.

Not to mention once my co-workers noticed the affect it had on me, it seemed like they would say them even more than usual. I was so happy to be embraced by my co-workers.

The final piece of advice was the biggest change, told to me directly by Flynn Parson.

Women in Tech love to obey. He only casually mentioned it in passing but as soon as he said it, I knew it was true. I’d always loved being told what to do, and the sense of satisfaction that came with a job well done. To serve a purpose, to please. I’d always been excellent at following orders, it’s part of what made me such a good programmer. When you’re talented, you want people to give you directions so you can show them just how skilled you are. It makes so much sense.

I started feeling a strong sense of compulsion anytime I was given an order, like it was the most important thing in the world in that very moment, like nothing else mattered. It all felt so good.

* * *

“I want to come to one of these mixers,” Mark surprised me one afternoon by saying. I tried telling him the meetings were only for women, but he kept pushing it.

“Work out which event you can take me to, Gaby. That’s an order.”

Once Mark realized that Women in Tech love to obey, he’d been using it against me at times, not that I minded. With those words a wave of arousal flowed through my body.

Women in Tech love to obey. I shivered from the pleasure of it. I knew there was no way around it. I had to do what I was told.

I still wasn’t sure why Mark had insisted on coming. I knew he wanted to be involved in my work life, but these were supposed to only be for women. I was worried I’d be violating what was supposed to be a safe space but when I told Sylvia she assured me it wouldn’t be an issue. She suggested one of the social nights that would be good to bring him to.

The next week, we arrived at the mixer. I was dressed modestly compared to my recent work outfits, a knee-length skirt and one of my old tops. Mark was the only man at the event. It was a little embarrassing. I gave him a quick kiss goodbye and made my way around the room to socialize.

I walked over to the punch bowl and grabbed a cup. Heather came up behind me. We embraced with a big hug and gossiped about work.

After a while, I looked across the room. Mark was talking with a group of women. They were openly flirting with him. I felt a bit jealous.

“What’d you think, sir?” I asked as we arrived back at our apartment.

“I had a good time.”

“I saw you chatting with some of the people.”

“Jealous?” Mark asked.

“Competitive,” I whispered. I reached down and grabbed his hard cock.

“Women in Tech should be competitive,” Mark said.

“Women in Tech should be competitive,” I agreed.

“Women in Tech need to look their best,” Mark added.

“Mm-hmm.” Of course they do.

I glanced down at my own outfit. A long skirt and one of the unflattering tops I’d bought when I first started working at Vision. Back when I was naively trying to hide my chest.

“I’ll be right back, sir.”

Women in Tech need to show off their body.

I went into the bedroom and changed into something sexier.

I came out wearing one of the new outfits I’d worn to work that week: a tight red skirt, and a top with thin straps. He reached his hand under my skirt.

“Hey toots,” he whispered. I quickly became aroused. I grinded my ass against his erection and pleaded for him to fuck me.

He pulled my skirt down and whispered into my ear. “Women in Tech need to be disciplined.”

The room began to spin. “W-women in Tech…”

“Women in Tech need to be disciplined,” he repeated. “How do we learn without being punished?”

“Women in Tech need to be disciplined,” I replied. Yes, of course! It made perfect sense. Mark can be so smart sometimes. It’s important for Women in Tech to receive discipline. How else do we know when we’ve made a mistake? How else will we learn without being punished?

Women in Tech need to be disciplined.

He ran his hands across my ass. I shivered with pleasure. My pussy was dripping wet.

“Are you ready to be punished?”

“Yes, sir,” I moaned. “I need to be disciplined. I deserve to be punished. I need it.”

THWACK. THWACK. THWACK.

By the end of the night, my butt was so sore I had to sleep on my stomach.

* * *

The punishment continued at work once my co-workers found out about my need for discipline. Every time I made a mistake (which lately was very often), I was disciplined.

It started with my boss. He called me into his office. Apparently, I had made a clerical error on some of the TPS forms I filled out. I begged him to punish me.

“Please, sir. I’ve been a bad girl. Women in Tech need to be disciplined,” I pleaded in my sexiest voice.

He held his hand up to his head and looked down at me. “Women in Tech deserve to be disciplined…” he repeated.

Then he bent me over his desk, pulled down my pants, and proceeded to spank me. It was what I deserved for messing up.

After that was my co-workers. Once word got around, any mistakes in my code were met with a plethora of spankings.

“Mm, you’ve been naughty, haven’t you?” Michael asked as he smacked my behind. An intense arousal filled my entire body. Both from his firm hands on my sensitive ass and the knowledge that I deserved to be punished.

“Thank you, sir!” I shrieked.

After I had to sneak off to the bathroom to touch myself.

Even the mail boy had his turn. I had forgotten to put a stamp on a letter I sent out and so he bent me over his mail cart and disciplined me in front of everyone. I moaned in pleasure as his hand struck my behind.

Women in Tech need to be disciplined.

I didn’t know why I kept making so many mistakes, it was so frustrating. I always thought I was good at coding. Things that I could have sworn I did correctly, simple things, always wound up being wrong. And I could’ve sworn I used a stamp. But it was fine.

How else was I supposed to learn?