Kyle
My overthinking wouldn’t let me call in sick—not until the credits hit my account. Mr. Foster said the funds would clear today, but I’d been checking my balance every hour like an addict. Every second that passed felt like it was burning through my last remaining brain cells.
The credit notification popped up a little after two in the afternoon. I opened the banking app with bated breath.
I calmly removed my headset, clicked send on my pre-written resignation email, and logged out.
Next stop: my saved basket. I added expedited delivery, finalised the payment, and ordered my SIN cyber doll.
There was a shortlist of homes I’d already been eyeing—but that could wait. I wasn’t going outside anytime soon. This apartment would become my lab. My sanctum. The place where Charlotte would be perfected.
The Dirty Dollhouse wasn’t just a chatroom. It was a rabbit hole.
I didn’t post. Didn’t comment. I just watched.
Thread after thread, livefeeds, upgrades, humiliations. Some users treated their dolls like goddesses, others like livestock. But what stood out wasn’t the perversion—it was the obsession. The technical mastery. The pride.
They called it art. Called themselves creators, but I could see the depravity. It didn't make me uncomfortable because some part of me understood them.
When I watched some of the streamed cyber doll videos, some were outrageous—beyond anything I’d imagined. But I got it. I understood why they were hidden behind encrypted networks and veiled protocols.
Each to their own.
Perhaps one day I might show them Charlotte.
A smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.
An email pinged in my personal inbox.
Cynthia.
My smile widened.
I clicked it open, reclining slightly in my chair.
From: Cynthia Gladstone [email protected]
To: Kyle Jackson [email protected]
Subject: RE: Resignation Notice
Hi Kyle,
Thank you for your… uniquely worded resignation. While your tone was unexpected—and frankly, unprofessional—we acknowledge receipt of your immediate departure from Emotive Corporation.
As you are aware, standard offboarding protocol includes a minimum two-week notice period.
However, given the tone and content of your message, we have accepted your resignation effective immediately.
Your system access has been revoked, and your remaining credits will be processed within the standard payroll timeline.
While I would typically wish you the best in your future endeavours, your parting words make it clear that such sentiments may be unwelcome.
Please consider this your formal confirmation of termination.
Regards,
Cynthia Gladstone
Project Manager Lead
Emotive Corporation
“Professionalism isn’t optional—it’s expected.”
[Internal Use Only – Confidential]
I leaned back and laughed—actually laughed. It felt good. Like deep in the ribs, lungs finally unchained. I read the email again. My words had landed exactly where they needed to.
Walked out without begging, without explanation. No warning. No groveling to the woman who’d micromanaged my every breath for half a decade. No more Cynthia. No more clock-ins. No more team-building bulletins, deadlines, passive-aggressive “just checking in” messages.
I tapped a quick response.
RE: YOUR RESIGNATION
Dear Cynthia,
I appreciate your concern. Unfortunately, my new role doesn’t require me to be gaslit, underpaid, or dead inside.
But I’ll never forget the time you told me to “smile more on team calls.” Or the fact that you doled out more tasks to me than other members on the team.
Thank you for the trauma. It built character. I've filled out my exit interview form highlighting the issues within the department.
Regards,
Kyle Jackson
[Former Pleb]
After I hit send, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes.
It was done. Years of weight lifted in a single click.
? ? ?
I was back in the Dirty Dollhouse forum—this time in the live chatroom. Only a handful of users were online. Not all of them were talking, but their usernames made me snigger.
Masterbaytor71
Doll_fucker2008_31
Devbotdom69_
Socketsurgeon999
Robo_twink910001
I’d kept mine simple: $inner$kin001
Robo_twink910001: I need a better model, but they’re all so expensive.
Devbotdom69_: Surgeon built his. Why don’t you ask him?
Robo_twink910001: My delicate hands weren’t made for manual labour.
Devbotdom69_: STFU and make do, then. Or go find a rich human.
Robo_twink910001: No thanks. I’m done with men. Did you see the new upload last night?
[Lubeloader_2010 has entered the Dirty Dollhouse chatroom]
Devbotdom69_: Yeah, that was some sick shit. I thought choking her was hot, but the multiple stabbing? Too far.
Lubeloader_2010: What’s up, dickheads?
Masterbaytor71: It’s finally arrived. Where the hell have you been?
Lubeloader_2010: Spending some quality time with my whore.
Devbotdom69_: Nice. Did you upload?
Robo_twink910001: I’d watch just to see your fat dick lubed up.
Lubeloader_2010: I know you want my dick in your arse, twinkboy. It ain’t happening. ??
Robo_twink910001: That’s not what you typed in private DMs. ??
Devbotdom69_: Hey, come on, guys, a hole is a hole. I’d stick it to you, Twink.
Masterbaytor71: You’d stick it to a mailbox, @Dev
I wanted to join in, but I didn’t even have a cydoll yet.
The earliest AI companion app was launched in 2017. Then came the cyber doll brothels in the early 2020s. Technology and synthetic partner quality skyrocketed from there. Over time men and women began choosing cyber companions over humans—but the stigma remained.
Not here though.
Dirty Dollhouse had no shame. Only acceptance.
I sat back and watched my brethren chat.