Since I was young, I loved computers.

I loved everything about them. Massive amounts 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 could choose any job you wanted,” he said. “But the tech world is a male dominated industry.”

I didn’t want to believe him at the time, but eventually I realized he was right.

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

It was a small start-up, nothing special. The work was basic—honestly, a bit boring—but it was an opportunity to finally prove myself and show the world what I was capable of. Unfortunately, the guys there were total assholes. I’d dealt with my fair share of jerks before, but this was on 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 H-cup breasts.

Guys in programming weren’t exactly known for their social skills and as a result there was always a lot of uncomfortable staring.

I’m not sure whether guys realized how obvious it was or if they just didn’t care. But no matter how much I dressed down—baggy sweatshirts, loose pants, anything to try and hide my figure—it never seemed to help.

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 be my defining feature. I wanted to be known as the best programmer around: not “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 calculation 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 sort of nerdy charm I found appealing.

One day, I decided to ask him out, and we’ve been together ever since. He’s not just my partner; he’s my best friend. Someone I can talk with for hours and never get bored. I’m not sure if I ever want to 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 overlooked, but our boss offered the job to Mark instead. It was so unfair. Not to sound arrogant, but I was the best programmer in the office by far. Much better than him, and he knew it.

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

How are you supposed to lead a team if they don’t respect you? It was 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 person I trusted most.

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

After nearly a week, we finally decided to talk things out. About the job, the promotion, the harassment—everything. I admitted how unhappy I’d been at work. How unhappy I’d been in general.

And so we came up with a plan.

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 just wasn’t cutting it. Even in a fairly liberal city like El Paso, people were still stuck in their conservative ways. A place where many of the 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 out there with strong women in leadership roles. Before long, we were packing 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, much quicker than I’d expected. A large corporation called Vision.

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 things because it was just a small startup. Surely a huge company like Vision would take sexual harassment a lot more seriously.

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

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

“Don’t call me toots,” I scowled.

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

Instead, I shot him my most menacing glare. He was such a dick. They were all pretty 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 I could truly engage with 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, instead I was the only woman on my team. Sure, there were other women in the office, but not as many as I’d hoped, 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 just bury myself in my work and ignore them as best I could. Until one day, I noticed something strange. People seemed to be giving me odd looks or whispering 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.

Luckily, I was able to catch it pretty quick. I spent what little money I had hiring a service that combed through the internet and sent takedown notices to any websites with the pictures. It was a relief that after a week or two, my nudes were nowhere to be found. Until now…

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

What the fuck.

I was so upset. I ran straight to HR, on the verge of tears, but they told me without knowing who originally sent them, all they could do was “open an investigation”.

“Great, how helpful,” I sarcastically muttered.

I thought the stares were bad before, but after the pictures leaked, the guys in the office became even more blatant about it. The harassment escalated, and I became the butt of all their sexist jokes. And it only got worse from there.

After that, my nudes showed up as my desktop wallpaper. Then they were snuck into my PowerPoint presentation. The guys all found it hilarious. They were all laughing. I couldn’t stand them.

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

Every time I went to HR, they told 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 the hell was? Mark told me I should contact a lawyer, but I really 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 again.

But the constant harassment was draining. I went shopping with Mark and bought even bulkier clothes. The most plain, boring, purposefully unattractive outfits 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 was really starting to take a toll on my mental health. They made me feel awful about myself. Like I was just a walking pair of tits made for their amusement. Like that’s all I was good for.

I had never felt so helpless before.

Mark was supportive, like always, but he didn’t really understand what I was going through. Still, I was 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 stormed 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, expecting Michael to be fired or at least suspended. But nothing ever happened.

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

Feeling defeated, I sat down at my desk, my eyes landing on a colorful pamphlet atop a stack of papers. The title stood out: WOMEN IN TECH.

I vaguely remembered seeing a copy in my orientation packet, though I never bothered to read it. Curious, I picked it up and scanned 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. This new discovery lit a fire inside me. I had almost given up hope that things would ever improve.

I called and set up an appointment for later that week. Initially, I was supposed to meet with Flynn Parson, the CEO, but when I arrived I was told that he was out of town for business. Instead, I’d be meeting with his number two: Sylvia.

The secretary at the front desk handed me a tablet and asked me to fill out my information.

After a while, I was escorted to Sylvia’s office.

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

I couldn’t hold back any longer and ended up completely unloading about the entire situation. Sylvia listened attentively as I fought back tears, describing the nonstop harassment I’d been facing.

Her gaze was intense but comforting. She was remarkably empathetic and understanding. Sharing my feelings with her felt like unburdening my soul: something 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 issues and unfortunately, you won’t be the last. Women in any male-dominated industry have always had these problems. That’s why we’re here.”

A wave of relief washed over me, like a huge weight had just 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 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 groups. I’d always been kind of shy when it came to meeting new people. I made my way over to the snack table and poured myself some punch.

“Is this your first time?” someone asked.

I turned to see a smiling woman with dark red hair, about my age.

“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 facing. It was nice meeting someone else with the same problems. It made me feel less alone.

Before long, 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 at helping her fit in at her work. It gave me some hope.

“What’s the secret,” I asked. “What am I doing wrong?”

Heather thought for a moment.

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

The words washed over me, echoing in my head. It took a moment for me to fully process what she had even said. My mind was spinning with questions.

Was that my problem? Had I not been a team player? Was it all my fault? Had I somehow isolated my coworkers by trying to be the best programmer?

I realized that I hadn’t exactly been the friendliest person. Maybe we’d just got off on the wrong foot. Maybe I’d made a bad first impression. Maybe if I just tried to be more of a team player the harassment might finally stop.

“Women in Tech should save their energy for serious issues. Stuff that really matters,” the other woman added.

Another rush of dizziness hit me, and my head felt like it was about to burst. It gave me a lot to think about.

Over the weekend, I couldn't stop thinking about what they'd said. Then on Monday, I decided to try their advice for myself.

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

“Hey, toots,” Sean said passing by my desk.

I sighed and tried my best 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. Stuff that really matters. 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 all the different Women in Tech events. It was usually the same few dozen women, with some new ones every week. I started networking and making friends. It felt good to be surrounded by other strong independent women in the tech industry. I wasn’t alone.

The next week was a seminar called: “How to Get Ahead in the Tech World”.

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, 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. Why wouldn’t you want to use every asset you had available? It’d be dumb not to. Everyone else seemed to agree. It was hard enough being a woman in the tech industry. We had to do whatever we could to succeed in a male dominated workplace. We needed to use every asset we had available.

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

Women in Tech should use every asset they have available.

It made so much sense. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I decided to make a list of all my different skills and assets.

I glanced down at my ample chest.

…were my breasts an asset? They certainly never felt like one. Instead seeming more like 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 there was something about him gave me bad vibes.

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

Sure, he was handsome, 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 was 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 exclaimed. “So helpful!”

“Absolutely life-changing!” another woman added.

“Glad to hear it.”

Avoiding his gaze, I focused on the floor, feeling uneasy around him. I mumbled something about needing to use 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 instead.

“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 deep 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 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 depths. 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 rude. Maybe I should get to know him better.

After following him back inside, we chatted for a while. He seemed genuinely interested in me, so I told him all about myself. Anything he wanted to know. Talking with him was surprisingly uplifting. It really boosted your confidence that someone as impressive as him was taking an interest in your life.

Before long, I realized I completely misread him. I felt terrible 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 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 great leader—completely captivating and irresistibly charming.

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

Back at home, Mark was already passed out.

Too bad, I was really in the mood. It’d been a few weeks since the last time we 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 slowly starting to improve. All the different advice I’d received was really starting to help. That didn’t mean the guys had stopped with the sexist jokes, or demeaning nicknames, but something about it felt different. Like now I was in on the joke rather than being the target of it.

Besides, I had to admit, some of them were even kind of funny.

Likewise, I decided not to let the nicknames bother me anymore. Sure, I would’ve preferred that they stopped entirely but that wasn’t an option. Instead, I chose to not let myself get upset about it. To save my energy for serious issues. Stuff that really matters.

I couldn’t control what they did, only how I reacted to it. It was all about having a positive attitude. For months I’d been letting a few small jokes ruin my whole day.

It was partly my fault. I hadn’t been as much of a team player as I should have. A big reason I had felt so isolated was because I’d been purposefully distancing myself from my coworkers from the start. It wasn’t fair for me to judge everyone without trying to get to know them better.

So I started making friends with the people I worked with. Learning more about them. I was surprised to find out that Michael had a fiancé who was five months pregnant. I helped give Sean some advice about an argument he had with his girlfriend 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 became so much easier once I started getting along with everybody.

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

Things at home were improving too. Now that I was in a much better mood, our sex life returned to normal. Maybe even a little more. I hadn’t realized just how much my sour attitude had killed my libido over the past few months, and I’m sure all the moping around 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 advice. Some nights they would have a guest speaker, but most times it was just us women getting together and socializing. Exactly what I needed.

Occasionally, a few new faces would pop up. Women who’d been having a tough time fitting in at their jobs too. A group of us gathered around one of the new attendees: a shy girl named Sara. She was fresh out of college and her eyes were red from crying.

Sara poured her heart out to us about the guys at her job and just how awful they’d been to her. It was the exact same thing that I had dealt with just a few weeks back.

So when she finally finished her story, I looked into her eyes and smiled. I had the perfect piece of advice.

“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. Did I say something wrong?

Later that night I talked with Sylvia. She complimented my outfit. “Women in Tech need to look their best,” she told me. “Looking good feels good.”

I agreed, of course. Everyone should look their best but especially women. It was important to look nice. Made you feel good about yourself.

Not that what I was wearing was anything 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 much make-up.

“I love that top you’re wearing,” I said. A V-neck with a tasteful amount of cleavage. It looked great on Sylvia, but I knew something like that would look obscene on me.

“Wish I could wear something like that,” I mused.

That was another big downside of H-cup breasts. I couldn’t get away with wearing any of the cute outfits my friends did without being called an attention whore or a slut. My huge chest inadvertently made everything sexual.

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

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

Her usual warm smile disappeared, replaced by an intense gaze.

Oh no, 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 once again smiled.

“Because of your tits?” she asked matter-of-factly.

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

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

Hmm…

I’d never really thought of it like that.

She was right. It wasn’t like guys didn’t eventually realize what was underneath my bulky sweaters. No matter how hard I tried hiding them. If anything, it only brought more attention. Made people even more curious.

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

That night, I ordered some new clothes online. Nothing too revealing (admittedly a difficult task with breasts my size) but it was important for me to look good. I looked at my online cart: a few tops (even some with cleavage), a cute dress (for outside the office), and some long colorful skirts. I forgot how fun it could be to go shopping.

I was excited when they finally arrived. l matched one of my new V-necks with a long dark blue skirt. Mark seemed shocked when he saw that I was showing off cleavage that morning, but once I reminded him that women in tech needed to use all their assets, he seemed to understand.

“There’s no use in hiding my tits,” I explained. “Everyone knows they’re there.”

Everyone loved my new outfits, especially the guys. It’s important to keep the people you work with happy. I got so many great compliments. A couple of them even wolf whistled when I walked in!

Looking good never felt so good!

In addition to the new clothes, I started doing my makeup every morning. I didn’t used to wear much.

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

Things at work were great! It felt amazing to finally be a part of the team.

“Hey, Gaby, you want some coffee?” Josh playfully joked. He was holding the mug with my topless pic on the side.

“Oh my god! You’re terrible!” I replied, trying not to smile.

I wasn’t happy that my topless pics were still being passed around, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Boys will be boys, and Women in Tech should save their energy for serious issues. Stuff that really matters.

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

A few posts down was a picture of me and Heather at one of the mixers. Some of the comments were sweet: “Beautiful!”, “so cute!”, and “you ladies look lovely”.

The rest were…more obscene: “Sexy AF”, “who da chick w huge melons” and “MASSIVE LOL”.

There’s no use hiding them. Everyone knows they’re there. I closed Instagram and got back to work.

A few weeks later, Flynn Parson showed up to another one of the mixers. He was talking to Heather when me and Jennifer walked up.

“Ah, Jen, you look nice.”

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

“Wouldn’t miss it!”

His large brown eyes immediately locked onto mine. He was so charming, so handsome. A really great guy. We were so lucky to have a man like him in charge of the organization. He really understood what was required for a woman to succeed in the tech industry. He always knew what was best.

“I must get going unfortunately. I just wanted to stop by and say hello.”

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

“Thank you, sir,” Heather giggled, twirling her hair through her finger. Her voice seemed higher pitched and more girly.

He briefly broke the eye contact to sneak a not so brief glance at my chest.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Gaby,” he said, walking away.

I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear at his compliment.

“What the hell was that?” asked Jennifer.

“…what?” Heather replied. Her voice was back to normal.

“Thank you, sir!” Jennifer mockingly imitated.

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 at me.

“Women in Tech… should be respectful,” I mumbled, testing out the words. It made a lot of sense. If we wanted to be respected, then first we must give respect.

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

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

Maybe it was because I never gave them the respect they deserved. I’d been doing everything all wrong. If I wanted them to respect me, then first I needed to respect them. Why had it taken me so long to realize that.

“Women in Tech are here to please,” Heather added.

A wave of dizziness swept over me, like the feeling you get when you stand up too quickly. My vision blurred.

“Women in Tech… are here to please,” Jennifer thoughtlessly echoed.

I stared into her dilated pupils, my mind clinging to the idea like a stable arm to grab onto, to keep from passing out.

"Women in Tech... are here... to please," I repeated slowly, absorbing each word individually.

Of course they are. She was absolutely right. Pleasing people is an essential part of any job—your clients, your bosses, your coworkers. Without it, you'd be out of a job in no time. Women in Tech are here to please.

Women in Tech are here to please.

The next day at work, Sean stopped by my desk. This was my chance to test out the new advice. Perhaps if I showed him some genuine respect, he might finally respect me in return.

“Hey, sweetheart, take a look at this code I wrote. I liked your idea about the backend, but I think mine’s better.”

“Of course, sir!” I replied. “Whatever you think is best.”

A confused expression spread across his face as he stared at me, seemingly unsure of how to react to my new positive attitude.

“You don’t wanna take a look at it?”

“No need! You’re really smart, sir! If you think it’s better then I’m sure you’re right!”

Sean seemed strangely amused. “You know, Gaby, you’re looking pretty sexy today.”

“Oh yeah?” I said with a playful grin, leaning over until my cleavage was nearly spilling out of my tight V-neck.

I noticed the growing bulge pressing against his pants—his eyes staring lustfully at my overflowing cleavage. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“Glad you like it.”

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

I strutted around the office. It wasn’t just Sean who liked my new outfit—everybody did.

All eyes were on me.

I had to admit... all the attention felt really good. For the first time in my life, I finally found a job where I truly fit in and felt like a valued member of the team.

I scrolled through Instagram. Heather posted a pic of herself in a swimsuit. It got a ton of likes. I’d also gotten a bunch of new followers, ever since the Women in Tech page tagged me in some of their pictures. A new post from them showed up in my feed.

It read: “Sign up for the Secret Santa next month. It’s the season of giving and Women in Tech should give more than they receive.”

A Secret Santa, how fun! I couldn’t wait. I loved giving gifts.

At home, Mark seemed to have a problem with the way I talked to my coworkers over the phone. He didn’t like that I was calling them “sir”, or that I was being “so agreeable”. Whatever that means.

He had been so judgmental lately, disapproving of everything new I was trying. However, once I explained things to him, he seemed to understand.

It had just been a while since he had worked as a programmer. He probably just forgot what it was like for Women in Tech.

Besides, anytime he had an issue with something, all I had to do was drop down to my knees and he’d forget real quick. I loved pleasing him—making him feel good with my mouth, my pussy, my ass, and even my tits.

Women in Tech are here to please.

I’d been so unbelievably horny lately. My libido had been out of control for some reason. It was hard to go more than a few hours without thinking of sex. As soon as I got home from work every day, I’d be begging him to fuck me, or let me go down on him, or anything really.

I’d 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. He loved that. Women in Tech need to look their best.

“Thanks, babe.”

I sat next to him, smiling happily, resting my legs across his lap while we watched YouTube videos on the TV. Except it was hard to focus on the videos. Before long I was playfully rubbing his crotch with my foot, prompting him to fuck me on the couch.

The next Tuesday at work, Michael squeezed my butt while I was at the photocopier.

“Hey, sugartits, you ready for the team-building exercises? You’re on my team.”

“Exercises?”

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

I hadn’t read the memo, but it didn’t matter. I was a team player, no matter what.

“I won’t let you down, sir!”

I was shocked to find what the exercise was: a twerking contest.

That couldn’t be right. It seemed…inappropriate for the workplace. But then I remembered the advice from that week.

Women in Tech need to be competitive.

The words echoed in my head.

Well…if this was somehow going to improve our teamwork, then I guess it was worth a shot.

There were only a handful of girls in the office who showed up. The guys were the judges.

Michael whispered to me. “You got this, toots. Your tits are unbelievable, but you got a pretty great ass too. So just shake it like your life depends on it.”

I was so nervous. I’d never twerked before…I’d never even considered it. I still didn’t completely understand why we were doing this, but I couldn’t 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.

I watched closely as a few of the other girls went first, trying to figure out their technique. The guys all cheered and clapped. Some of them were even recording video with their phones.

Then it was my turn. My stomach was full of knots.

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

I nervously headed to the front and turned around, my back facing the audience. There were a lot of people here…some of them I didn’t even recognize.

I bent my legs and squatted down. I may not have ever twerked before, but I’ve always been a fast learner. It’s part of what made me such a skilled programmer.

Someone whistled and the others laughed. “Let’s go, Gaby!” Sean yelled out. Then the music started.

“Here goes nothing,” I thought, shaking my butt to the rhythm of the song, hoping I didn’t look ridiculous. Desperately hoping they were enjoying my performance.

Women in Tech are here to please.

Then some of the guys started to cheer. They liked it! Fueled by the encouragement, I started really getting into it. Bouncing my hips, swaying my ass up and down—even smacking it a few times—they really liked that.

There was something so… exciting about pleasing my coworkers. 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 too.

“Toots, that was hot as hell,” he replied, smacking my ass again. “I can’t even get my fiancé to do that.”

I was beaming with excitement at his approval. “Oh thank you, sir! I’m so happy you liked it!”

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 flooded my entire body. Some of the guys patted my ass in congratulations on their way out. I could sense the heated gazes of jealousy from the other women.

Women in Tech need to be competitive.

After leaving the room, I realized just how incredibly horny I was. My ass had always been a sensitive area for me. In the bedroom, all it took was a few touches from Mark to really get me going.

The combination of putting on a show and the smacks to my rear had really turned me on. I’d never felt so aroused before. I couldn’t wait until I got home—I couldn’t wait another minute.

I rushed into the women’s restroom, plunging my fingers into my needy pussy, moaning loudly as I came. It felt incredible!

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 seven of us from the same team.

These team building exercises were really working, I’d never felt closer to my coworkers. We were all getting along so well. I’d do anything for them.

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 lucky flush on the river. The guys were so disappointed! It was hilarious seeing them down to their underwear. I tried my best not to stare at their bulges...

The next week was a wet t-shirt contest. It was a nice sunny day. I looked over at my competition, we were all wearing tight white shirts.

I wasn’t worried, I knew I had this one in the bag. It’s what I was born for. I almost felt bad for the others, it wasn’t even a competition.

With tits like these, how could I ever lose? I proudly held my chest up high.

One by one, we each got splashed with a big bucket of water. When it was my turn, Joshie hurled the bucket 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 became completely see-through, and my hard nipples poked through my thin pink bra, tingling with arousal.

“And the winner is…Gaby! With the biggest tits in Silicon Valley!”

My tits jiggled as I bounced with excitement. I won again! Mark was going to be so proud of me!

The guys all laughed and cheered. I laughed too. Michael walked over and put a sash around my neck, brushing against my sensitive nipples, probably on purpose. I couldn’t help but moan from the intense pleasure.

Thankfully, there was only an hour left of work after that. It was hard to concentrate on anything with soaking wet clothes. Next time, I’d have to remember to bring something to change into. Silly me!

Despite pleasuring myself in the restroom, I was still so fucking horny by the time I finally got home. The sex with Mark that evening was amazing—the best I’ve ever had!

That week, I ordered more clothes. Some skirts, cute tops, even some lingerie. Stuff I was always too afraid to wear. Each outfit was a little bolder than the last.

I always felt like I had to hide my breasts in order to be taken seriously. It was a naïve way of thinking. I hate that I let myself be pressured into concealing my curves. A real feminist should love her body and be proud to show it off, and I wasn't going to let anyone shame me into thinking otherwise.

Everything was going great.

So then why did I keep getting the strange feeling that something was wrong?