Modern Monsters

Titus the Bison Minotaur

Male Reader x Male Monster

You've been working at the same advertising agency for a long time. You started as an intern fresh from college, and now, fifteen years later, you have your own office and are head of your own team. It's nice being the boss, but there are days when you miss being one of the low rungs on the ladder. It was easier then, the pay sucked, but it was easier. Nowadays, you felt like a nanny, running around and wrangling up your unruly gaggle of toddlers.

Recently, a lot has been happening in your life. The firm you work for acquired a small-time competitor, and the two firms were merging. You had gotten a bunch of new employees, all of whom needed some basic training, so things were started to get piled up. Then, a week before the merger, you and your boyfriend broke it off. It hadn't been great for a long time, so you saw it coming, but it still was kind of a blow. He had just moved out, and your place was looking a little sloppy, so you didn't much like going home these days. Usually, after work, you went to the gym, out to eat, maybe go to a bar and have a few drinks, and then home and directly to bed. It wasn't a great life, but hey, it could be a lot worse.

There's a knock at your door, and you look up, seeing Titus, the new head of your art department. Titus was part of the merger, and you were a little pleased he was assigned to you. He was just your type. He was a big, burly, Bison Minotaur. He was tall, rugged, with arms like tree trunks, and a bubble butt to top it all off.

"Can I come in?" He asks.

"Go ahead," you reply.

He walks in, carrying his folder and he sits down in one of the chairs before your desk. "I don't mean to stop by so randomly, sir," he starts. "But I have some minor complaints about your art department."

You furrowed your brow and lean forward. "Oh? And what would that be?"

He looks at you, his dark eyes serious and calm. "To put it bluntly sir, it sucks."

You lean back in your seat. "Interesting," you murmur. "And what makes you say that it sucks, Titus?"

"Because it does," he replies. "The artists I work with are fine and all, but it's the conditions! We just have desks to work at. We all have to share the main drawing station, and all of us have projects and work to accomplish. This is supposed to be a major firm, and yet we can't afford and basic equipment we need? Our computers are out of date for the software we're supposed to be working with. And don't get me started on pencils-"

You hold up your hand to stop him. "What are you talking about? We just updated the computers last year. All new ones too."

"Then someone is lying to you," Titus answers.

You furrow your brow. "Tell me, the artists that you work with, do you often find them going into a closet?"

Titus tilts his head. "They do," he says. "But I don't-"

You sigh and shake your head. "Titus, I must apologize to you. The area you're working in is supposed to be the main meeting room between copy and art. The door they keep disappearing into is your office."

Titus' eyes go wide.

"They've been lying to you."

Titus takes a deep, steady breath. "Oh my god-" he holds his hand over his face and shakes his head. "I feel like an idiot."

"Your old boss said you were trusting," you stand up. "And most of my crew wasn't happy about your coming into the fold so-" you give him a reassuring smile. "Do you want me to go yell at them for you?"

He shakes his head. "No. I don't want them thinking I went off crying to the new boss. I need to suck it up I guess," he grumbles as he stands up.

"Is this a regular occurrence for you?" You ask him.