CaptainBoyHole
Comment/Review the story, readers, and give me ideas on possible skills, situations, developments, etc., of things you want to see! No guarantees that I will add what you want. But it helps to have ideas out there. Please point out any mistakes you notice or anything you're not clear about. I'll try to answer them and fix them to the best of my abilities.
Shout-out to special Patreon members: Tuan Nguyen, Blacklionpride24, Xedron, Zaki
Ethan had committed to turning his life around for the sake of proving himself useful to Poison. He knew that to be of any use to her. He needed to show what he could do for her. For the first time in his life, he put some effort into being a productive member of society.
His day began early, long before the sun had even considered rising. He would stumble out of his now neatly maintained bed with frequently washed sheets, fighting off the drowsiness that clung to him like a persistent shadow. After a quick shower and a meager breakfast, he'd set out into the chilly morning in his work uniform, his breath forming misty clouds in the dark. His first job was at Callie’s Burgers, one of those soul-sucking positions he had so fervently avoided in the past. The uniform felt constricting, and the smell of fast food clung to him as if it were a permanent part of his being. But Ethan endured it, knowing that he had a purpose now, something to strive for beyond his own comfort.
At the fast-food joint, he worked the early morning shift, flipping burgers and serving customers with a fake smile. The hours dragged on as the clock mercilessly inched its way toward his break. During those precious minutes, he would pull out his phone and give his brain some much-needed mindless entertainment for rest.
The lunch rush was a chaotic drain of his will to live, and Ethan found himself moving like a soulless robot. The fast-paced environment left little room for idle thoughts or daydreams, but he persevered during its lunch rush. The queue snaked its way around to the counter, winding through a maze of red ropes. The overhead menu boards blared with images of oversized burgers and dripping milkshakes, tempting customers to make their choices. The hiss of the fryer and the sizzle of the grill melded into sounds of delicious cheap goodness, and the air was thick with the pungent aroma of frying oil and grilling meat.
Ethan stood rooted behind the counter, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he worked the cash register and with customers. His uniform, a bright red shirt, and matching cap, clung uncomfortably to his body, soaked through by the relentless heat of the kitchen. Exhaustion gnawed at his bones. Talking to people was a lot more draining than he thought. There was no respite for him, no moment of rest to catch his breath. He longed for the solace of his bedroom, a place where he could escape hard work.
Then, a customer emerged from the line. Her face twisted in a scowl that could curdle milk. She slammed her tray onto the counter with a sharp, resounding thud, causing an unattended soda to topple, its contents spilling in a sticky puddle on the polished surface. The woman's lips curled into a sneer, and she pinned Ethan with a withering glare.
"You people can't do anything right," she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain as if she believed she was the sole beacon of perfection in a world of incompetence. “I obviously ordered a Double Callie Smacker with no pickles, but tell me what that is!” She screeched while pointing at the burger that had pickles on it.
Ethan sighed. He would love nothing more than just to walk out right now and never come back, but then he thought about Poison. He thought about how she would feel if she knew he had given up on his efforts to support her and prove his value to her. He grabbed a stack of napkins and bent over to mop up the mess. "I'm really sorry about that, ma'am," he said, his voice soothing despite the turmoil within. "It was an accident. We’ll remake your order."
The woman, far from appeased, huffed impatiently. Her impatience was palpable, an unspoken demand for instant gratification. "You're all incompetent here," she muttered under her breath, her eyes rolling in exasperation. "It's like you don't care about your jobs." Ethan bit his lip, the taste of frustration mingling with his own sweat. He knew a retort was futile, but it was difficult to swallow the words that begged to be unleashed. For the first time in his life, once again, he actually had to censor himself from expressing his true feelings. Instead, he gave her order to his co-workers in the kitchen and politely told her it would be out in just a second. The woman glared at him without a word of thanks, her fingers brushing his with a dismissive graze. She rejoined her equally impatient friends at a nearby table, each of them sharing in their collective discontent loudly. Ethan sighed, his shoulders slumping as he returned to his post. The relentless onslaught of rude customers wore on him, making each shift feel longer than it was.
When the clock struck noon, he would rush to his second job at Harvest Delights. This time, he was working as a stocker, responsible for replenishing the shelves with various items. It was a physically demanding job, requiring him to lift heavy items and move quickly to keep the shelves well-stocked. The monotony of the task allowed his mind to wander, and he often found himself lost in thought, wishing he could listen to his earbuds while working. But that was explicitly not allowed, as his boss warned him.
As the day turned into evening, Ethan's energy waned further. The fatigue settled into his bones, and he moved with a sluggish gait. He only had one thirty-minute break every day to rest his weary body and grab a quick snack to eat at the store, but after that, there was no time for relaxation until it was time to clock out.
Ethan was in the grocery section, overseeing the pasta aisle. It was a busy afternoon, and customers were bustling about. Among them was Linda, an affluent woman with a penchant for organic products. She had a particular brand of organic pasta in mind, and she was determined to find it. As Linda scoured the shelves, she noticed that her beloved pasta was nowhere to be found. Frustration crept in as she searched for the familiar packaging. It was then that she spotted Ethan, a Harvest Delights associate who was diligently stocking the shelves with canned pasta.
Linda approached him, "Excuse me," she said, "I can't seem to find my favorite organic pasta. It's always here, and I really need it." Ethan looked up at her with his customer smile. Her smile flinched as she looked at him. It was a work in progress. "Can you tell me the name of it or something?" Ethan replied. How the hell was he supposed to know what her favorite organic pasta was? Linda's face tightened. “It’s always right here, but it's not here today. Can you go look in the back and see if you have it in stock?”
Ethan didn’t know the first thing of what the hell she was going on about. But he could lie and act. With his customer smile on his face, he got up from the floor and replied, “Sure. I’ll take a look. Be right back.” Ethan left to go to the warehouse in the back. He took around two or three minutes of pointlessly looking around the back for an item she didn’t even give him the name for before returning to her shaking his head. “Sorry, it seems we are completely out." He lied.
Linda, not satisfied with this explanation, crossed her arms and raised her voice. "That's not good enough! I'm a loyal customer, and I expect better service. Go to the back and find that pasta for me. I don't have time for this!" Ethan tried to reason with Linda, "I understand your frustration, ma'am, but I've already checked our inventory, and we don't have any more of that brand at the moment. I can show you similar options, or you can check back at a later time when we receive a new shipment."
But Linda was having none of it. Her entitlement knew no bounds. She began to berate Ethan loudly, making a scene in the grocery aisle. Other shoppers paused to watch the commotion, and store associates were alerted to the situation. She pointed an accusatory finger at Ethan, her voice a shrill screech. "What kind of service is this? I've been a loyal customer for years, and this is how you treat me? Unbelievable!" Linda's tone grew more condescending as she continued, "You should be bending over backward to satisfy customers like me. Do you even know who I am?"
The store manager, upon hearing the commotion, arrived at the scene to address the situation. After confirming with Ethan that they had indeed run out of the specific pasta, the manager offered Linda an apology and suggested she explore alternatives or return at a later date. Linda huffed, realizing her demands were futile, and reluctantly left the aisle. Ethan inwardly smiled as he lied the entire time. They may have had that pasta in the back the entire time, but he refused to do more than the bare minimum.
Ethan, satisfied with the outcome of his first experience with a Karen, resumed his duties, continuing to stock the shelves with the alternatives Linda had rejected. It was a challenging day, but he knew that in the world of retail, dealing with rude customers was an inevitable part of the job.
Two weeks had passed since Ethan began his double life, working tirelessly at both Callie’s Burgers and Harvest Delights. His motivation to provide for Poison had transformed him into a productive member of society. This newfound sense of purpose was etched on his face as he approached Poison with his first paycheck. With a proud and hopeful smile, Ethan held out the envelope containing his hard-earned pay. "Look, Poison," he said, his voice filled with excitement, "I got my first paycheck today!."
Poison accepted the envelope, her expression as inscrutable as ever. She meticulously counted the money inside, her fingers moving with precision. After a few moments, she glanced at Ethan, her eyes devoid of praise. "Two weeks for this paltry sum of money," she remarked, her tone tinged with disappointment. Ethan's smile faltered, and he looked at the meager amount. It was clear that his hard work was pointless. All that suffering and for what? He knew minimum wage was terrible, but two jobs paying minimum wage still didn’t equal a living wage? What kind of shit is that?
Poison had higher aspirations. This pathetic amount of money was nowhere near enough for her to get her plan started. "It's time for a more efficient way of gaining funds," Poison stated, her voice cold and resolute. "We need to do something bigger, and I have a plan. We're going to rob a bank." Ethan's eyes widened in disbelief. Such a huge leap in escalation left him speechless. He knew he was this beautiful monster lady’s slave, but he didn’t realize that it would involve him in criminal activities like robbing a bank. Yet, as he looked into Poison's unwavering gaze, he understood that she was completely serious about this.
“Poison, do you know uhm… how heavily protected a bank is?” Ethan had seen a lot of movies and researched a lot of strange topics on the internet. He came across just how complicated it would be to actually rob a bank with all their safety measures in place.
“No. I’ll leave you to think of the plan. I’ll ensure it goes off without any problems. Are we clear?” Poison softly massaged the white fox resting on her lap.
“Maybe we should start smaller? Like robbing a gas station?” Ethan suggested.
“How much money do they make compared to this?” Poison pointed to the money on her bed.
Ethan could only shrug his shoulders. He didn’t have the slightest clue on how much money gas stations made but knew that they wouldn’t be doing themselves any favors by robbing a bank. “I’ll think of something instead of robbing a bank so that we can make money, okay?” Ethan scratched his head. “I expect something good, slave. Otherwise, I don’t see a reason to keep you around for much longer.” She reminded him of his position.
“I won’t let you down…” Ethan secretly sighed as he made his way to his computer to search some stuff up in private mode and with his VPN running.
CaptainBoyHole
Comment/Review the story, readers, and give me ideas on possible skills, situations, developments, etc., of things you want to see! No guarantees that I will add what you want. But it helps to have ideas out there. Please point out any mistakes you notice or anything you're not clear about. I'll try to answer them and fix them to the best of my abilities.
Shout-out to special Patreon members: Tuan Nguyen, Blacklionpride24, Xedron, Zaki
Ethan had committed to turning his life around for the sake of proving himself useful to Poison. He knew that to be of any use to her. He needed to show what he could do for her. For the first time in his life, he put some effort into being a productive member of society.
His day began early, long before the sun had even considered rising. He would stumble out of his now neatly maintained bed with frequently washed sheets, fighting off the drowsiness that clung to him like a persistent shadow. After a quick shower and a meager breakfast, he'd set out into the chilly morning in his work uniform, his breath forming misty clouds in the dark. His first job was at Callie’s Burgers, one of those soul-sucking positions he had so fervently avoided in the past. The uniform felt constricting, and the smell of fast food clung to him as if it were a permanent part of his being. But Ethan endured it, knowing that he had a purpose now, something to strive for beyond his own comfort.
At the fast-food joint, he worked the early morning shift, flipping burgers and serving customers with a fake smile. The hours dragged on as the clock mercilessly inched its way toward his break. During those precious minutes, he would pull out his phone and give his brain some much-needed mindless entertainment for rest.
The lunch rush was a chaotic drain of his will to live, and Ethan found himself moving like a soulless robot. The fast-paced environment left little room for idle thoughts or daydreams, but he persevered during its lunch rush. The queue snaked its way around to the counter, winding through a maze of red ropes. The overhead menu boards blared with images of oversized burgers and dripping milkshakes, tempting customers to make their choices. The hiss of the fryer and the sizzle of the grill melded into sounds of delicious cheap goodness, and the air was thick with the pungent aroma of frying oil and grilling meat.
Ethan stood rooted behind the counter, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he worked the cash register and with customers. His uniform, a bright red shirt, and matching cap, clung uncomfortably to his body, soaked through by the relentless heat of the kitchen. Exhaustion gnawed at his bones. Talking to people was a lot more draining than he thought. There was no respite for him, no moment of rest to catch his breath. He longed for the solace of his bedroom, a place where he could escape hard work.
Then, a customer emerged from the line. Her face twisted in a scowl that could curdle milk. She slammed her tray onto the counter with a sharp, resounding thud, causing an unattended soda to topple, its contents spilling in a sticky puddle on the polished surface. The woman's lips curled into a sneer, and she pinned Ethan with a withering glare.
"You people can't do anything right," she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain as if she believed she was the sole beacon of perfection in a world of incompetence. “I obviously ordered a Double Callie Smacker with no pickles, but tell me what that is!” She screeched while pointing at the burger that had pickles on it.
Ethan sighed. He would love nothing more than just to walk out right now and never come back, but then he thought about Poison. He thought about how she would feel if she knew he had given up on his efforts to support her and prove his value to her. He grabbed a stack of napkins and bent over to mop up the mess. "I'm really sorry about that, ma'am," he said, his voice soothing despite the turmoil within. "It was an accident. We’ll remake your order."
The woman, far from appeased, huffed impatiently. Her impatience was palpable, an unspoken demand for instant gratification. "You're all incompetent here," she muttered under her breath, her eyes rolling in exasperation. "It's like you don't care about your jobs." Ethan bit his lip, the taste of frustration mingling with his own sweat. He knew a retort was futile, but it was difficult to swallow the words that begged to be unleashed. For the first time in his life, once again, he actually had to censor himself from expressing his true feelings. Instead, he gave her order to his co-workers in the kitchen and politely told her it would be out in just a second. The woman glared at him without a word of thanks, her fingers brushing his with a dismissive graze. She rejoined her equally impatient friends at a nearby table, each of them sharing in their collective discontent loudly. Ethan sighed, his shoulders slumping as he returned to his post. The relentless onslaught of rude customers wore on him, making each shift feel longer than it was.
When the clock struck noon, he would rush to his second job at Harvest Delights. This time, he was working as a stocker, responsible for replenishing the shelves with various items. It was a physically demanding job, requiring him to lift heavy items and move quickly to keep the shelves well-stocked. The monotony of the task allowed his mind to wander, and he often found himself lost in thought, wishing he could listen to his earbuds while working. But that was explicitly not allowed, as his boss warned him.
As the day turned into evening, Ethan's energy waned further. The fatigue settled into his bones, and he moved with a sluggish gait. He only had one thirty-minute break every day to rest his weary body and grab a quick snack to eat at the store, but after that, there was no time for relaxation until it was time to clock out.
Ethan was in the grocery section, overseeing the pasta aisle. It was a busy afternoon, and customers were bustling about. Among them was Linda, an affluent woman with a penchant for organic products. She had a particular brand of organic pasta in mind, and she was determined to find it. As Linda scoured the shelves, she noticed that her beloved pasta was nowhere to be found. Frustration crept in as she searched for the familiar packaging. It was then that she spotted Ethan, a Harvest Delights associate who was diligently stocking the shelves with canned pasta.
Linda approached him, "Excuse me," she said, "I can't seem to find my favorite organic pasta. It's always here, and I really need it." Ethan looked up at her with his customer smile. Her smile flinched as she looked at him. It was a work in progress. "Can you tell me the name of it or something?" Ethan replied. How the hell was he supposed to know what her favorite organic pasta was? Linda's face tightened. “It’s always right here, but it's not here today. Can you go look in the back and see if you have it in stock?”
Ethan didn’t know the first thing of what the hell she was going on about. But he could lie and act. With his customer smile on his face, he got up from the floor and replied, “Sure. I’ll take a look. Be right back.” Ethan left to go to the warehouse in the back. He took around two or three minutes of pointlessly looking around the back for an item she didn’t even give him the name for before returning to her shaking his head. “Sorry, it seems we are completely out." He lied.
Linda, not satisfied with this explanation, crossed her arms and raised her voice. "That's not good enough! I'm a loyal customer, and I expect better service. Go to the back and find that pasta for me. I don't have time for this!" Ethan tried to reason with Linda, "I understand your frustration, ma'am, but I've already checked our inventory, and we don't have any more of that brand at the moment. I can show you similar options, or you can check back at a later time when we receive a new shipment."
But Linda was having none of it. Her entitlement knew no bounds. She began to berate Ethan loudly, making a scene in the grocery aisle. Other shoppers paused to watch the commotion, and store associates were alerted to the situation. She pointed an accusatory finger at Ethan, her voice a shrill screech. "What kind of service is this? I've been a loyal customer for years, and this is how you treat me? Unbelievable!" Linda's tone grew more condescending as she continued, "You should be bending over backward to satisfy customers like me. Do you even know who I am?"
The store manager, upon hearing the commotion, arrived at the scene to address the situation. After confirming with Ethan that they had indeed run out of the specific pasta, the manager offered Linda an apology and suggested she explore alternatives or return at a later date. Linda huffed, realizing her demands were futile, and reluctantly left the aisle. Ethan inwardly smiled as he lied the entire time. They may have had that pasta in the back the entire time, but he refused to do more than the bare minimum.
Ethan, satisfied with the outcome of his first experience with a Karen, resumed his duties, continuing to stock the shelves with the alternatives Linda had rejected. It was a challenging day, but he knew that in the world of retail, dealing with rude customers was an inevitable part of the job.
Two weeks had passed since Ethan began his double life, working tirelessly at both Callie’s Burgers and Harvest Delights. His motivation to provide for Poison had transformed him into a productive member of society. This newfound sense of purpose was etched on his face as he approached Poison with his first paycheck. With a proud and hopeful smile, Ethan held out the envelope containing his hard-earned pay. "Look, Poison," he said, his voice filled with excitement, "I got my first paycheck today!."
Poison accepted the envelope, her expression as inscrutable as ever. She meticulously counted the money inside, her fingers moving with precision. After a few moments, she glanced at Ethan, her eyes devoid of praise. "Two weeks for this paltry sum of money," she remarked, her tone tinged with disappointment. Ethan's smile faltered, and he looked at the meager amount. It was clear that his hard work was pointless. All that suffering and for what? He knew minimum wage was terrible, but two jobs paying minimum wage still didn’t equal a living wage? What kind of shit is that?
Poison had higher aspirations. This pathetic amount of money was nowhere near enough for her to get her plan started. "It's time for a more efficient way of gaining funds," Poison stated, her voice cold and resolute. "We need to do something bigger, and I have a plan. We're going to rob a bank." Ethan's eyes widened in disbelief. Such a huge leap in escalation left him speechless. He knew he was this beautiful monster lady’s slave, but he didn’t realize that it would involve him in criminal activities like robbing a bank. Yet, as he looked into Poison's unwavering gaze, he understood that she was completely serious about this.
“Poison, do you know uhm… how heavily protected a bank is?” Ethan had seen a lot of movies and researched a lot of strange topics on the internet. He came across just how complicated it would be to actually rob a bank with all their safety measures in place.
“No. I’ll leave you to think of the plan. I’ll ensure it goes off without any problems. Are we clear?” Poison softly massaged the white fox resting on her lap.
“Maybe we should start smaller? Like robbing a gas station?” Ethan suggested.
“How much money do they make compared to this?” Poison pointed to the money on her bed.
Ethan could only shrug his shoulders. He didn’t have the slightest clue on how much money gas stations made but knew that they wouldn’t be doing themselves any favors by robbing a bank. “I’ll think of something instead of robbing a bank so that we can make money, okay?” Ethan scratched his head. “I expect something good, slave. Otherwise, I don’t see a reason to keep you around for much longer.” She reminded him of his position.
“I won’t let you down…” Ethan secretly sighed as he made his way to his computer to search some stuff up in private mode and with his VPN running.
