Monster HOEtel and (Accidental) Group Chats

Sometimes you learn the hard way to listen to what your manager says. This time it involves your texting abilities.

Suddenly, that old, useless conversation rings in your ears once more.

“A what,” you repeated, only halfway glancing at the centaur. You were clearly eager to end your workday.

“It’s a new chat feature,” he explained with enthusiasm, pointing his phone screen at you. “You can message multiple people at once, just by pressing this- um...are you listening, (Y/N)?”

Who would’ve thought his incessant nagging would come and haunt you at a time like this? You gawk at your screen, doing your best to ignore the pounding at your door.

You wanted to be flirty for once.

Your shirt was slightly unbuttoned, the lower edges riding up your abdomen and folding nonchalantly right over your chest. Huh, you sure looked particularly lewd in the moment. With an amused smile, you snapped a photo and quickly searched for your manager’s name. He must’ve been in the middle of his shift. You could already picture his flushed face as he tries really hard to recollect himself in front of customers. He’d be tugging at his collar, stumbling upon his words, most likely raking his mind for an excuse to slip away, even for a moment.

Perhaps it was mean of you to tease him like this, but watching Centaur Manager struggle in such a state was always a delight. ‘Come here before I regret it,’ you pressed further, almost hearing his heavy breaths as his composure gradually comes undone. As a matter of fact, moments later, there was a knock on the door.

“Yeah,” you drawled cheekily, taking your time to stand up.

“Come on, (Y/N), don’t leave me hanging like that.”

You froze. Was that Puppy Hybrid’s voice? Why was he there? Did you accidentally text him instead? You quickly snatched your phone and checked your sent items again, then felt a knot build in your stomach.

You’d accidentally group messaged half the Hotel.

“What the hell are you doing here”, you heard from the outside. It was a muffled shout, but you could immediately discern Rock Star Demon’s frustrated voice.

Good Lord, how many were going to show up? The murmur became vaguer as the voices piled on top of each other, merging in a chaotic pot of horny confusion. There were knocks, there were pleads. You were much too mortified to open the door. Lads, there’s enough for everyone, you eventually heard in the distance – the only one seemingly excited by this outcome was Orca Hybrid. The others weren’t as pleased by the idea of sharing you in these circumstances. You buried yourself under the blanket and hoped they would eventually give up. Either that, or you were about to put your body to the test.

Meanwhile, the Centaur Manager lets out a bored sigh. Another thick stack of documents signed and stamped. He shoves the papers aside, then rummages his pocket.

“Huh, I must’ve left my phone in my locker,” he remarks. “Oh, well. I’ll retrieve it later. Can’t be anything too important.”