Chapter 46: Presentation Preparation
The air in Karn’s 40th-floor office hummed with the low thrum of the city far below and the faint whir of climate control. Sunlight streamed through the panoramic windows, glinting off the polished concrete floor where Pete Riverton knelt. Completely naked. Knees spread wide apart. Hands laced tightly behind his head, making the muscles in his shoulders and back stand out. His erection was an unavoidable fact, straining upwards in the cool air. The engraved silver collar around his neck – KARN THORNE sharp and clear – felt simultaneously heavy and grounding. He pressed his lips to the back of Karn’s proffered right hand, a gesture ingrained by Titan’s harsh protocols and, beneath that, something deeper, more personal. Trust. Gratitude. Submission.
Karn’s fingers lingered for a moment against Pete’s temple before withdrawing. "Alright, Bunny," he said, his voice calm, businesslike, yet holding an undercurrent of warmth only Pete ever heard. "Up. Sofa."
Pete unfolded himself carefully, the movement fluid despite the awkwardness of his state. He padded silently across the cool floor to the plush, low-slung sofa in the casual seating area, the collar a constant, cool weight against his skin. He sat, posture instinctively straight, the morning light painting his bare skin gold.
Karn walked to his sleek desk, picked up his high-end laptop, and returned. He settled beside Pete, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. The scent of Karn's expensive cologne – cedar and bergamot – mingled with the sterile office air. He flipped the laptop open, the screen blooming to life. A meticulously organized folder filled the display, labeled simply: RIVERTON - PROBATION SUBMISSIONS.
"Remember our original plan for today?" Karn asked, navigating through sub-folders with swift clicks. Each sub-folder was clearly named and categorized: Market Analysis, Competitor Strategy, Cost Projections, Synergy Reports. Every file within bore the same digital stamp in the corner: Karn’s stylized purple ‘KT’ insignia, signifying official approval.
Pete nodded, his focus shifting from his own nudity to the screen. "Nova Forge pitch."
"Exactly," Karn confirmed. A wry smile touched his lips. "Turns out, Victoria and the Nova Forge crew got a rather… unique preview last night. The pitch is done. Signed, sealed, and undoubtedly unforgettable." He glanced sideways at Pete, whose ears flushed crimson at the memory. "So," Karn continued smoothly, dragging the conversation back to the present, "that means today, you focus entirely on this." He tapped the laptop screen. "Friday’s presentation to the Purple Tags. Your probation finale."
Pete leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the screen. The sheer volume of his own work, neatly compiled and approved, was both daunting and exhilarating. "It’s all here?"
"Everything submitted during the month," Karn confirmed. "Categorized by function. My official sign-off on every single file. All accessible to you." He clicked on one file, revealing a complex financial model Pete had sweated over for days, now adorned with the purple 'KT'. "The only things missing," Karn continued, minimizing the model, "are the finalized MOA agreements with Zephyr Dynamics, Aethelgard Biotech, and Nova Forge. I’ll have copies for you tomorrow, Thursday. Too many moving parts and confidential clauses still being finalized today." His expression turned reassuring. "I’ve locked down anything confidential you are not allowed to access. What you see is yours. Use the laptop." He nudged it fractionally closer to Pete. "Prep your presentation. Structure it how you see fit based on this approved work. Show them what you're made of, Pete."
He stood, the movement fluid. "I’ll be at my desk. Check your progress before lunch. Need anything?"
"Water?" Pete asked, his throat suddenly dry.
Karn nodded. "Coming up." He walked back to his imposing desk, the distance feeling vast despite the open space. He settled into his ergonomic chair, the cityscape a dramatic backdrop behind him. His gaze, however, wasn't on the skyline. It was fixed on Pete.
Pete drew a deep breath. The cool leather of the sofa pressed against his bare skin. The collar felt snug. The laptop screen glowed before him, a map of his own hard-won intellect laid bare, just like his body. He pushed the lingering shame of Citron Vert and the potent vulnerability of his nakedness aside. Friday was redemption. Proof. He opened the first sub-folder – Market Analysis – and clicked on the initial report.
His fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up charts, copying key insights. He dragged files into a new presentation, his brow furrowed in concentration. The awkwardness of his posture on the sofa – bare feet tucked under him, laptop balanced on his thighs – was forgotten in the familiar rhythm of work. He sketched an outline: Introduction, Market Landscape, Strategic Approach, Synergy Opportunities, Financial Viability, Supplier Integration, Conclusion. He began populating slides with approved data points, his mind racing ahead, connecting threads Karn had categorized so efficiently.
Across the room, Karn watched. Not with scrutiny, but with profound, quiet pride. He saw the intensity in Pete's eyes, the way his jaw set with focus, the deft movements of his hands on the keyboard. He saw the brilliant strategist emerging, undimmed, from the wreckage of Titan’s cruelty. The nakedness, the collar – they were the stark, uncomfortable frame. But the picture within? That was pure Pete Riverton: resilient, intelligent, determined. Karn leaned back in his chair, a genuine, unguarded smile softening his features as Pete muttered to himself, already lost in the flow of building his case for freedom. The only sounds were the tap-tap-tap of keys and the soft hum of the city forty floors below.
The only sounds were the tap-tap-tap of keys and the soft hum of the city forty floors below. Pete, lost in the intricate web of his own approved market projections, barely registered the vibration emanating from Karn’s sleek desk phone. Karn picked up the receiver, his professional tone cutting through the focused quiet. "Thorne."
Sean’s voice crackled through, urgent. "Karn, you and Pete free this afternoon? Got a situation." Karn listened, his gaze flicking towards Pete, still engrossed in his laptop on the sofa. "Go ahead." His expression shifted from mild curiosity to utter disbelief as Sean relayed the news. "They what? Today? Sean, you know I didn’t bring a spare—" He stopped mid-sentence, cutting himself off, running a hand through his hair in clear frustration.
Sean’s voice pushed through. "Yeah, yeah, about Pete’s… attire. Karn, put me on speaker. Need him to hear this directly." Karn’s jaw tightened, but he pressed the button. "You're on, Sean."
"Pete? You hearing me, kid?" Sean’s voice filled the room, loud and clear. Pete’s head snapped up from the screen, blinking. "Listen up. Zephyr Dynamics, Aethelgard Biotech, and Nova Forge just called. Individually. Each one insists on signing the MOA today. This afternoon. Not tomorrow."
Pete froze, the color draining from his face. Karn watched him, his own features grim. Sean continued, "And they all have one non-negotiable condition, Pete. You have to be there. Physically present at the signing table." A beat. "Said you could come wearing whatever you happen to have on. Literally. Their words. But," Sean’s voice turned serious, "if you don’t show? They all walk. All three deals. Dead."
Silence crashed down, thick and heavy. Pete stared at the speakerphone on Karn’s desk, the implications hitting him like a physical blow. Whatever you happen to have on. His eyes darted down to his own bare legs, the cool leather of the sofa under his naked thighs, the persistent, undeniable reality of his complete lack of clothing. He felt the collar bite into his neck. Shock locked his vocal cords, leaving him gaping soundlessly at the device broadcasting his doom.
"Pete? You still there?" Sean prompted.
"Yeah," Pete croaked, the single syllable rough and strained. Karn’s knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of his desk.
"Alright," Sean said, businesslike, seemingly oblivious to the seismic shift he’d caused. "Small group. Us: Me, Karn, you, and two Exec Purple Tags – Foke and Voss. Them: Two reps each. Eleven total. Boardroom Alpha. One hour. Don't be late." The line went dead. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the frantic thudding of Pete’s own heart against his ribs.
The silence after Sean hung up wasn't just deafening; it pressed in, thick with the frantic drumbeat of Pete’s heart hammering against his bare ribs. He stared at the speakerphone on Karn's obsidian desk, then down at his own exposed skin, the polished concrete floor chilling his feet. "Whatever you have on." The words echoed, twisting into a grotesque punchline. He had nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Karn slammed his palm flat on the desk, the sharp crack making Pete jump. "Unbelievable," he growled, the smooth confidence replaced by raw, protective fury. He stabbed at the phone, speed-dialing Victoria. Pete watched, frozen, dread pooling cold in his stomach. Karn took a deep, visible breath, composing himself as the line connected. "Victoria," he began, his voice forcibly level, "Karn Thorne. Regarding this afternoon—"
"Karn! Darling!" Victoria's voice erupted from the speaker, bright and effervescent, instantly filling the vast office with an unnerving cheer. "Perfect timing! We're all right here – Zephyr, Aethelgard, my crew – having the most divine blueberry scones. Discussing how utterly brilliant Riverton was yesterday. Truly inspired!"
Karn blinked, momentarily thrown off script. "Ah, good. Victoria, listen—"
"Everyone’s buzzing, Karn!" she trilled, cutting him off. "Completely smitten with your strategic prodigy. We simply couldn't wait until tomorrow to lock this down. Hence the impromptu signing! Isn't it thrilling?"
Seizing the opening, Karn plunged in. "Victoria, it is. But about Pete's attendance. I understand your condition." He kept his voice measured, authoritative. "Given you're all familiar with Titan's... operational structure, I believe it's reasonable to request attending the signing represented solely by me today. He's..." Karn paused, choosing his words carefully, "...currently adhering strictly to Titan compliance protocols." He glanced at Pete, naked on the sofa. "It was my oversight not to have a spare suit here for him. Entirely my fault. Surely his physical presence isn't mandatory if it presents... difficulties?"
Pete held his breath, clutching the edge of the sofa. Karn was trying. Please, Victoria, please just this once... He remembered Foke and Voss, the Tier 1 Executives who’d quietly championed him; seeing them naked on Friday was inevitable, almost routine at this point. But six sharp-suited representatives from the companies he’d pitched to yesterday? Witnessing him utterly exposed? That felt like a fresh layer of humiliation painted onto the old scars.
A murmur of discussion filtered through the speaker – indistinct voices, a ripple of laughter. Then Victoria was back, her voice losing none of its cheer but gaining an unmistakable, steely edge. "Oh, Karn, darling, we discussed it just now. All three company teams. Unanimous decision." Her tone brooked no argument. "Pete’s presence at the table is non-negotiable. We were all so impressed, you see. We simply must see him again. It’s part of the deal spirit!" She paused, then her voice shifted, practical. "Right. Clothes. Besides a suit, what do you have? Anything? A spare gym kit? Hawaiian shirt? Anything at all?"
Karn shot Pete a questioning look. "Give me a moment, Victoria." He covered the mouthpiece. "Pete? Anything? Anything besides what you're wearing?"
Pete rummaged desperately through the mental inventory of his tiny Titan locker and the items Karn kept for… other purposes. His cheeks flamed. "Just… just the collar," he stammered, gesturing weakly at his neck. "And…" He swallowed hard, the words sticking. "...the bunny gear. In the bottom drawer. The fluffy rabbit ears headband? The... the bunny paw mittens? The stupid fluffy tail on the transparent string? And those ridiculous toe socks?" He looked utterly mortified. "That’s it."
Karn stared at him, then back at the phone. He moved his hand, presumably to take Victoria off speaker. His thumb slipped. The speakerphone light blinked green.
"Victoria," Karn started, his voice loud and clear in the suddenly cavernous office, "The only options besides the collar are… uh…" He cleared his throat, painfully aware the microphone was live. "A bunny-themed… ensemble. Ears. Mittens. Tail. Socks. That’s literally all he has available here. So, as you see—"
The shriek from the phone was pure, unadulterated delight. "YES! Karn, that's IT! Pete, you darling genius! Bunny gear!" Victoria sounded like she'd won the lottery. "Listen carefully, Karn Thorne. You will instruct Pete Riverton to present himself at Boardroom Alpha, without delay, wearing only that collar and the full bunny regalia. Ears, paws, tail, socks. The works."
She paused, letting the absurdity sink in. Pete felt the blood drain from his face, then flood back in a scalding wave. Karn looked like he wanted to throw the phone through the window.
"This," Victoria continued, her voice dropping into a tone of absolute, cheerful finality, "is now a formal condition of the Memorandum of Agreement signing for all three companies. We are unanimous. Agreed upon over scones. If Pete Riverton does not appear at that table, dressed as described?" The cheer vanished, replaced by icy clarity. "The entire deal vanishes. All three MOAs. Gone. Consider it the bunny clause." Her voice brightened again, impossibly. "See you soon, darlings! Toodle-oo!" The line went dead with a final, decisive click.
The silence returned, heavier than before. Karn stared at the phone, his expression a mask of stunned disbelief warring with simmering rage. Pete sat frozen on the sofa, the image of himself – collar, bunny ears, fluffy paws, ridiculous tail, toe socks, and nothing else – standing before the gathered executives and representatives burning itself into his brain. Boardroom Alpha. Bunny or bust. The frantic thudding of his heart now felt like it was trying to escape his chest entirely.
The frantic thudding of his heart now felt like it was trying to escape his chest entirely. Boardroom Alpha. Naked except for… bunny gear? The sheer, ludicrous horror of it short-circuited Pete’s brain. He stared blankly at Karn, who looked like he was contemplating throwing his expensive desk out the 40th-floor window.
Karn spun away from the phone, hands raking through his perfectly styled hair, messing it spectacularly. "Right. Okay. Think, Thorne, think!" He paced, a caged predator in a tailored suit, muttering under his breath. "Bunny ears. Fluffy tail. Paw mittens. Boardroom. Executives. Signing. Bunny. Clause." He stopped dead, whirling back to Pete, eyes wide with a sudden, desperate spark. "Pajamas!"
Pete blinked, still processing the furry apocalypse looming over him. "Pajamas?"
"Yes! Pajamas!" Karn nearly shouted, the idea exploding out of him. "Your bunny pajamas! The full set! At the penthouse!" He checked his watch, a sleek, complicated thing. "It's only 9 A.M. Traffic shouldn't be murder yet. Pete, listen," he crouched slightly, bringing his face level with Pete’s on the sofa, urgency radiating off him. "I'm going back home. Right now. I'll grab your bunny PJs – the whole ridiculous outfit. They insisted on the bunny theme? Fine. They get the bunny theme." A fierce, determined glint entered his eyes. "But I am not letting you be the only one looking like a plush toy escapee. Remember those ridiculous wolf onesie you bought me? The ones with the hood and the stupid muzzle?"
Pete’s mind conjured the image: Karn Thorne, corporate prince, engulfed in fleecy grey wolf fabric. The sheer incongruity punched through his panic, drawing a choked, slightly hysterical snort.
"Exactly," Karn nodded grimly, a flush creeping up his neck. "I'm bringing that too. Solidarity. Or shared humiliation. Take your pick." He straightened up, heading for the door. "Until I get back, focus. Your Friday presentation slides. Dive into that probation folder. Forget the bunny-pocalypse for an hour. Just work."
"Karn—" Pete started, but Karn was already yanking the heavy office door open.
"Work!" Karn barked, and then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving Pete alone with his laptop, his nakedness, the engraved collar, and the impending doom of fluffy ears.
Pete slumped back on the sofa, groaning. He rubbed his temples. "Weird. Everyone is just so weird," he muttered to the empty, minimalist room. He felt utterly wrung out, the emotional whiplash from Citron Vert to this bizarre demand leaving him exhausted. But Karn’s command echoed: Work. He pulled the laptop back onto his bare thighs, the cool metal a sharp contrast to his skin. Opening the probation folder felt like stepping into a sanctuary of logic and numbers, a world away from Victoria’s gleeful sadism. He started outlining the Friday presentation structure with grim determination, forcing his mind to focus on market share percentages and synergy matrices, not fluffy tails.
The city hummed outside. Time crawled. Pete lost himself in the data, building slide after slide, his fingers flying. The intricate work acted like a balm, temporarily silencing the frantic thrum of anxiety about the afternoon. He barely registered the door opening again until Karn stood before him, breathing slightly heavily, carrying two large clothing bags and two insulated lunch boxes. It was 11:30 A.M.
"Alright, mission accomplished," Karn announced, dropping the bags onto the conference table section. He paused, taking in Pete hunched over the laptop. "How's the slide apocalypse going? Please tell me you haven't just been drawing bunny ears on competitor logos."
Pete looked up, pushing the laptop screen towards Karn. "Finished. All slides done. Structure, data, projections, competitor breakdowns. Everything except..." He gestured vaguely at the laptop. "The MOA integration part. Obviously. Since we don’t have those yet."
Karn leaned over, scrolling rapidly through the presentation. His eyebrows shot up, disappearing into his slightly messy hairline. "Pete... You finished all of this? Since I left?" He looked genuinely stunned. "This is... comprehensive. And good. Really good."
Pete shrugged, a flicker of pride momentarily eclipsing his embarrassment. "Got focused."
Karn’s gaze shifted fully to Pete, finally registering his state. Pete was no longer just naked. He was wearing the fluffy white bunny ears headband perched slightly askew on his head. The oversized, white fuzzy mittens covered his hands. Fluffy white bunny foot socks encased his feet. And attached to a thin, clear elastic string tied loosely around his hips, a soft white pom-pom bunny tail bobbed gently as he shifted. His balls and cock hung loosely beneath the ridiculous tail puff. The engraved silver collar remained firmly around his throat.
Karn blinked. Pete seemed... brighter. Less drained. The focused energy he'd poured into the slides seemed to have counteracted the earlier exhaustion. Karn murmured, half to himself, "Do the bunny gears... somehow automatically refill your energy? Is that a feature?"
Pete just gave a tired, lopsided grin.
Karn shook his head, snapping back to business. He unzipped one of the clothing bags, pulling out a folded bundle of soft, blue fabric covered in cartoon bunnies. "Right. Pajamas." He tossed them to Pete. "Put these on. Immediately."
Pete caught them, frowning. "But... Victoria said—"
"I know exactly what Victoria said," Karn interrupted, his voice tight. "Collar and full bunny regalia. You've got the ears, mittens, tail, socks. That's the 'regalia'. The pajamas?" He gestured impatiently. "They're just... thematic context. Without them, standing in the boardroom, you might as well just be naked with accessories. This," he pointed at the pajamas, "makes it look slightly less like a corporate fetish nightmare and more like... enforced whimsy." He rummaged in the bag again, pulling out a pair of matching pale white briefs. They had a small, fluffy bunny applique on the front, positioned perfectly, sending little embroidered kisses towards the porch. "And these? Just in case someone decides to spontaneously demand you remove the pajamas mid-signing. Contingency underwear."
Pete grabbed the briefs and pajamas, a wave of ridiculous gratitude washing over him. "Thanks, Karn. Seriously." He scrambled off the sofa and into the small private bathroom attached to Karn’s office. He quickly pulled on the bunny briefs, the soft cotton a welcome barrier, then stepped into the pajama bottoms and shrugged on the top, buttoning it up. The cartoon bunnies hopped cheerfully across the fabric. Back in the main office, he adjusted the elastic string around his waist over the pajama bottoms, settling the fluffy white tail puff into position. He pulled the mittens back on and resettled the ears on his head. Fully attired in white bunny pajamas, accessories, and collar, he looked like a sleepover guest who’d taken a very wrong turn into high-stakes corporate negotiations. "Okay," he said, his voice muffled slightly by the absurdity. "Ready. Ish."
Karn had vanished into his private office nook. He emerged moments later, and Pete’s jaw dropped. Karn was encased head-to-toe in a plush, grey wolf onesie. The hood was pulled up, featuring a fully formed wolf head with floppy ears, button eyes, and a slightly goofy felt muzzle. Paws covered his hands and feet. He looked utterly ridiculous, yet somehow still managed to carry an air of defiant authority. "Solidarity," Karn stated flatly, his voice slightly muffled by the muzzle. He picked up the two lunch boxes. "Now, we eat. Fast. Meeting starts at 1 P.M. sharp. Bunny clauses wait for no man. Or wolf." He thrust one box at Pete. "Eat. We’re going to need the fuel."