Zelda Zedge had it! The scoop of a lifetime. It had taken months of digging through court filings. Months of drawing disjointed stories out of confused, broken witnesses. Months of data-mining the dark corners of the ‘net, and even a little quasi-legal hacking.

But now she had it! Zelda had proof that Absinthe Industries was deploying military grade mind altering technology on select members of the government. She had to write all her evidence up into a story and get it to her editor right away. Pulitzer Prize, here I come.

Zelda typed furiously at her story. She was switching between a dozen different windows and spreadsheets, collating her data into one cohesive narrative. Her fingers flew across the keyboard.

She barely noticed the little chatbot window that dodged her popup blocker. But in another moment, it filled her screen with a pulse of blinding, flashing, strobing, flickering light.

Zelda stopped typing. She squeezed her eyes closed to try to clear her vision.

Suddenly, Zelda felt hot. She unbuttoned her blouse, but that only made her more aroused. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get back to work until she rubbed one out. Why am I suddenly so horny?

The moment her jeans hit the floor, Zelda’s fingers found her pussy. I know I should be working. I know I shouldn’t feel this way. I know I shouldn’t want this so badly. I know I shouldn’t need this.

Zelda was working her way to her fourth orgasm by the time the van from Absinthe Industries pulled up outside. Zelda didn’t notice. She was otherwise occupied.

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