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“GOD! FUCKING! DAMMIT!” Kazuha punctuates each word with a slam of her fist against the claw machine. If the fire in her eyes was real, it would no doubt reduce the entire arcade to smithereens.

“Kazuha, please… We were supposed to close up an hour ago…” you yawn, eyes barely cracked open. All you get in response is a furious glare from your coworker before she shoves another quarter into the machine. If it weren’t for the fact that her anger, for all its fire, only makes her as scary as a grumpy little puppy, you’d be a little more inclined to push her along.

“Shut up! We’re not leaving until I win that teddy bear!”

“But we have the keys, we can just open the—”

“NO!” she screams. “I have to win it! It’s about the principle!”

As if she has any principles. 

You let out a long, tired groan as your body sinks to the black light carpet lining the floors. Had you been paired with any of your other coworkers, you would’ve been more than comfortable leaving already—in fact, you would’ve already been closed up an hour ago, when you’re supposed to. But, since there is clearly no God up there, you’re stuck with Kazuha, the absolute worst closer in existence. Leaving now would all but guarantee your unemployment.

“Fuck, I was sooooo close that time!” Kazuha drives her fist into the glass panel of the machine, the resulting thud echoing throughout the empty arcade. She stares daggers at the teddy bear she’s dropped a million times at this point, the heat from her breath fogging up the glass. For reasons unbeknownst to you, Kazuha has been obsessed with that specific bear for the past week, with its stupid little overalls and its stupid little farmer’s hat. No matter what line of reasoning you give her—”You are losing money at this point,” “We have an entire box of those bears in the back.”—she’ll just snap at you and go on and on about getting it “the old fashioned way.” 

Before you can even react, she drops to her knees and wiggles her lithe body into the prize chute. Normally, you’d be worried about her potentially damaging store property, but your brain short circuits at the sight of her ass in those tight jeans.

“K-Kazuha!?” you exclaim. “What the hell!?”

“I’m getting that damn bear one way or another!” 

A series of metallic thuds can be heard from inside the machine, her unusual obsession with that damn bear nearly causing the machine to topple over. You can only watch in utter disbelief as her arm peeks through the top of the prize chute, nowhere near the toy she’s been hunting for. If only there was a simpler, less exhausting way for her to get that damn toy…

“I think I can almost— ah… shit…” Despite her voice being muffled by the machine, you can very clearly hear the distinct tone of regret that often follows her random bouts of rage. “Hey bud, uh… can you help me out here?”

You groan, rubbing your eyes. “I already told you, just use the key—” 

“N-no, it’s not that, um… I’m, uh… stuck…”

“…what?”

Kazuha squirms like a fish out of water as she tries to free herself from the prize chute, but with her shoulders stuck squarely against the sides, all of her efforts are for naught. An incredulous chuckle escapes your lips as you watch the ridiculous scene in front of you, a pair of slim legs poking out of the machine illuminated by trashy dim lighting—had you happened upon her like this with no prior knowledge, you’d think it was a set up to a bad porn video.

“So, um, can you help me out here?” she pleads, all the anger drained from her voice. With a sigh, you reluctantly kneel behind her, frustrated but not entirely unhappy about the direction tonight is going—it’s not everyday that you get to freely ogle at her assets like this.

If Kazuha is good for anything, it’s being eye candy. Aside from the middle schoolers keeping this dingy arcade in business, a good handful of your patrons are college boys trying to chat her up and the occasional newly-divorced single father spending “quality time” with his kid. Her temper doesn’t allow any of them to get close without a few scratches, but it seems some of these weirdos like a challenge, always coming back week after week under the guise of breaking their DDR high score or some other lame excuse.

You firmly grip Kazuha’s waist, silently thanking the inventor of skinny jeans, and pull on her with all the strength you can muster. Despite all her squirming and the honest effort you put in, her body shows no signs of budging. You could laugh if this wasn’t cutting into your valuable sleep time.

“Dammit. Hold on, Kazuha, maybe if I try—” As Kazuha continues to try and shimmy her way out, you notice a small pink remote slip from her pocket. It’s a simple remote, only having a couple buttons on it, but all of the text is in Japanese, making it impossible for you to know what its use is. “Uh, what is this remote for?”

“What remote?” 

“This pink one that fell out of your pocket.”

“WHAT!?” Panic seeps through her voice as she desperately thrashes her legs around, kicking your hand and sending the remote careening into the air. “W-whatever you do, don’t push the—MMPH!”

It’s almost comical just how quickly Hell breaks loose in the blink of an eye—as soon as the remote hits the wall, Kazuha’s slender legs start to writhe erratically, her movements less like she’s trying to get out and more like she’s being electrocuted by Zeus himself. A flurry of slurred expletives and harsh grunts can be heard, barely contained within the metal walls of the machine. At first glance, you’d think she’d be in pain or experiencing some kind of claustrophobia-induced panic attack, but as you pick on the unmistakable sound of buzzing coming from in between her legs, it all starts to paint a rather filthy picture.

“Turn it—fuck!—Turn it off already!” she commands, barely keeping it together. You shake your head out of your daze and reach for the pink remote, pressing another button at random—although, with how great that went last time, perhaps you should’ve taken a second to think this through.

“W-wrong button, y-you—augh!—dickhead!” The buzzing in between her legs grows louder and her movements more frantic, more erotic even. She squeezes her legs together in some last ditch effort to mitigate the damage, but the growing wet spot on the front of her jeans tells you all you need to know about how she’s truly feeling.

“Oops. Did I mention that I can’t read Japanese?” you chuckle in amusement as you watch the pure insanity unfold in front of you.

“Top right! B-button on the fucking top right!”

As much as you would love to keep her like this all night as payback for making you stare at work for this late, you decide to show some mercy, her body going limp as soon as you hit the off button. You lean back against the wall and let out a long sigh, the absurdity of the night not lost on you. Time seems to slow down for a while, the distant beeping of the arcade machines and Kazuha’s occasional shaky breath keeping you company as you try to gather your thoughts. After all that, there’s no way in hell the two of you can just go back to being regular ol’ coworkers.

“…What the hell, man.” you mutter after a long silence.

“I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT!” she barks, somehow still having energy left in the tank to berate you. “I work five days a week dealing with sticky-fingered little shits and perverted old men for minimum fucking wage! God forbid I try to make it a little more fucking bearable!”

You let out a soft chuckle at her expense. “Y’know, most people just go to work high instead of doing all… that.”

“Eat a dick,” she fires back, rising back up on her shaky knees. Her tone is sharp, but there’s less bite to it now; you swear you can even hear a hint of playfulness in it. Enjoyment. There’s a brief silence. Not wholly uncomfortable, but just enough to make your skin crawl. Like the calm before the storm.

Then, muffled yet crystal clear:

“So, are you gonna do me or what?”

You didn’t think tonight could get any weirder, but boy, you were wrong by a long shot. “…what?”

“Hey, don’t pretend you don’t stare at my ass every time we work together. You probably jerked off to this exact scenario last night, you perv.”

You scoff at her. “I-I’m not a perv—Whatever, fuck this, I’m going home.”

“Hold on, you’re seriously gonna pass on an opportunity to fuck me?!” she asks, seemingly offended that someone would decline her so easily.

You barely take two steps towards the door before stopping and seriously thinking about her proposition—you could either go home and salvage as much sleep as you can, or you can bang your hot, albeit ill-tempered, coworker in this position you’ve only seen in dirty videos… seemingly for free? No repercussions whatsoever? 

“Why me anyways?” you ask, your gaze shooting back and forth between the door and Kazuha’s tight ass.

“The only other people we work with are two girls and the walking bag of loose skin that owns the place,” she explains. “Unless those girls have a strap, you’re the only one with decent dick around here.”

You sigh, shamefully sinking to your knees behind her. “I don’t even have a condom,” you say as if you’re not one zipper pull away from satiating your filthiest desires.

“I’m on the pill, you pussy.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“You really think I would risk birthing one of those little demons?” she argues.

By all means, this is a terrible idea. Kazuha is simply bad decisions personified, fucking her would certainly lead to more shit you’ll have to deal with down the line. But then again… the damage is already done, isn’t it?

With all caution thrown out the window, you undo her jeans and peel them off of her, revealing the toned, creamy flesh of her ass hiding underneath and a pair of pink panties drenched in her arousal. “Jesus Christ…” you mutter in awe (Although, if He were real, he’d probably be very disappointed in the decisions you’re about to make).

 Kazuha wiggles her hips at you, almost like she knows how much you’re gawking at her. “How’s the real thing compare to your fantasies?” she teases you.