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Brothel To Another World

Chapter 3

By StripedKittyScribe

---

In a war between the supernatural forces, Nymova wasn't even a front line soldier. She was little more than what amounts to a supply specialist. Stuck with a boss who abuses her status and his power over her. When things go absolutely sideways, she's left on her own, with a plan that's nowhere near developed enough to actually work.

Business continues to be slow. Her expenses aren't the highest, especially with the fact that the Endorff Inn doesn't have any kind of a physical footprint in most normal space. But she does have employees, and food costs. And without more business, she'll have to start making decisions that she doesn't want to make.

---

T'Reet almost tripped as she felt the buzz of her com gear on her biceps. She didn't have to tap it and pull the message up to know who it was from. She didn't have time to deal with this bullshit, she was on shift and these environmental filters weren't going to clean themselves.

K'Reem wanted to go out with her. He'd been chasing her for weeks, and simply would not take 'no' for an answer. On the one hand, she could understand. There weren't that many of their species on the station. Even fewer had allowances in their contracts for forming attachments, and K'Reem was far more senior to her in the Tin Knockers guild.

There were two problems with K'Reem in her mind. First, he already had four mates, and while T'Reet was getting a little desperate for attention, she wasn't THAT desperate. There was no way in the void that she was willing to put herself on the bottom of that particular social structure.

Second, and far more important, he was just UGLY. Not just physically, either. She'd heard the term 'butter face' and could understand it even if she didn't grasp everything the humans meant when they said it. K'Reem wasn't just a 'butter face'. He was a 'butter all-of-him'. He was petty, and vindictive, and while he couldn't exactly keep her from her next promotion, he could (and had) made her life a living hell until she gave him what he wanted.

And he was tiny. Even by the standards of their species, he was short and round. He'd gotten out of the ducts as soon as he could, and had gone soft behind his desk. His mates were constantly going out and finding people to sleep with behind his back, simply because he couldn't make anything work for them.

The average height of a male in her species was just over a meter tall, and the average female was a few centimeters below that. K'Reem was just over 80 centimeters tall, and even some of the other species on the station made jokes about how he was more ball than G'Risa.

She didn't mind the affectionate 'Greaser' that people used for her species in Galactic Standard. They were very effective in their roles as maintenance and repair crew, not the least because they were so small they could usually walk in standard sized maintenance tubes.

"943 to control, isolating filter B-721 for inspection and cleaning."

"Control to 943, copy."

She shuddered. That was K'Reem. She hadn't realized that he was still on shift. Setting the little cart that held the cleaning tools to the side of the access panel and pulled out the wrench. If only they'd stop building these damn things with such large screws compared to her...

*

Sabe looked at her boss from across the desk again. "We're at least meeting fiscal expenses and even turning a small profit. But, you say that we're not pulling in enough magical energy for you to maintain the Inn." They'd finally settled on that name, and it was no longer 'the pocket dimension' or 'the projection'. It was The Endorff Inn.

Nymova nodded, and drummed her fingers on the desk. "I don't doubt that we're capable of doing it with the staff on hand. Hells, we're idle often enough that the only reason I'm not telling someone to clean something is because of the enchantments that do that already."

Sabe nodded, and very pointedly didn't bring up that Nymova had been excluded from most of the games being played by the staff. Not because she was a generally unwelcome presence, but her lilim ability to read minds made things impossible for anyone else to even have a chance. Sabe couldn't blame the other players, and yet she also felt sorry for her boss who couldn't just decide not to read someone's emotions. "It sounds like we're able to at least spend some cash on advertising, which isn't a place that we were before. Perhaps we should talk with everyone and get ideas for how to do that. I agree that repeat customers are the best kind, but we at least need enough of them to make ends meet."

Nymova grumbled. "Last thing I want is some kind of 'thirteenth visit is free' system. It makes us feel cheap."

Sabe pursed her lips, conceding the point. "Perhaps a referral program, then. Or... ah... what was it Bobby threw out? Something affiliate something?"

Nymova bared her teeth. "I am not turning my brothel into a pyramid scheme!" She crossed her arms under her chest. "I have some standards!"

Sabe patted the air down. "No, no, no, no sponsors or uplines. By the gods, I can't believe that Mary actually fell for one of those. No, I mean like, we let people visit us, get to know them. Decide if we want to extend an offer for them to advertise for us. Word of mouth. Set it up so that we have the numerical advantage, but it's also worth it, for everyone, for our best guests to bring in new clients."

Nymova listened to the rest of the idea and calmed down. "It's not the worst idea, and you're right that it's probably going to get us the kinds of clients we want. But that's a slow drip. We need another solution for the time being. We're not in danger of shutting down operations, but if we don't reverse this, I'm going to have to hold off on letting people live here. I won't be able to support the rooms."

*

T'Reet dropped her gear off, and changed out of her work coveralls. It had been a longer shift than she anticipated because whoever logged that they'd done the maintenance on B-721 through B-725 had lied through their trachea. She had to change the waste receptacle twice, when it should have just taken one for the whole shift. That and there was a crack in the housing that needed a sealant. And there was a stripped screw.

She hated it when people just brushed things aside rather than deal with it. She slipped into her casual jumpsuit and made her way through the concourse. She wanted to stop in one of the pleasure places, to really enjoy herself. She wasn't just up on her expenses, she was ahead, and last week had been the last payment on her certifications. She had way more credits in her account than normal.

The problem was that not only were there no G'Risa to play with, male or female, in any of the places on the station, there weren't any places that didn't cater to the dominant species. The dominant predator species. She didn't have anything against them, as people. Some of them were even really nice. Most of them, in fact.

But there was something about them that just terrified her. She'd tried. She'd REALLY tried. One sharp tooth was all it took, though, and she'd run screaming from the room. It wasn't a personal thing, or even a personality thing. But it wasn't sexy. Even the omnivorous humans, the shorter ones, set her fur and antennae on end.

She made her way through the bars, getting a look inside, then ducking back out instantly. Too busy. Too noisy. Too many predators. She looked at her com gear, and for just a second, she thought about calling one of K'Reem's wives. Maybe she was judging him too harshly.

T'Reet shook her head, and started wandering, aimlessly. She ended up accidentally walking by one of the outlets for the filters she'd cleaned earlier that day. She stepped toward it, ready to hold her hand up and feel the airflow, just to double check that there wasn't some other kind of problem in the system.

Something felt off. It was another reason that the G'Risa were so talented as duct workers; their antennae and fur were extremely sensitive to changing air currents and sounds. She twitched and shifted back and forth, feeling the air current, the volume, the rate of flow.

She pulled her com off her arm and placed a call. "943 to Environmental. Is there something going on with the airflow on tube B-7?"

"Negative, 943. All of the indicators are right on nominal."

"Thanks," she said and ended the call. Something still wasn't right. And it was coming from up the tube. She moved to the next outflow, and then ducked straight into the access hatch when she found it. Instantly she found the oddity.

There was a door set into the wall directly opposite the entry hatch. It was so completely out of place that at first, T'Reet rubbed her eyes to see if she was halucinating something. She instantly recognized that the stone frame jutting out from the smooth composite was the reason for the strange air currents. Then she was amused with herself that she was recognizing how a door was affecting air currents, rather than dealing with the impossibility of a door that looked like something out of a historical novel manifesting in the middle of a wall. There was a simple knob about at her eye level, and she looked left and right before she pulled it open.

It was one of the dumbest things that she could have done. The other side of that bulkhead was a mess of wiring and conduits for cooling and water. What she should have seen was a bundle of electrical cables wrapped around pipes.

She saw the interior of an extremely retro cafe. Diner? It extended back far enough that it would have been in the black. But it wasn't.

She shut the door, then her eyes. Some superstitious part of her mind made her hop up and down three times, turning left, then right, then left again as she chanted an ancient rhyme that was supposed to be from the days before the G'Risa had even united as a planet, let alone got to the stars. She opened her eyes again.

It was still there. The next time she opened the door, she saw a human woman in some kind of period costume approaching the door, a curious smile on her face.

The woman held an open hand up in greeting. "Come in, be welcome."

T'Reet shut the door. Then opened it. Then shut it. Then opened it. The room was still there. And the woman had a bemused smile on her face. Unlike most humans, there wasn't any display of teeth with a big smile. It was almost like she recognized the implied threat that it would give to a G'Risa.

Nymova motioned toward the room. "You have my pledge, upon my existence, that no harm will come to you, if you bring no harm with you. Please, do come in and be welcome."

T'Reet slowly moved into the room, looking up in the corners for the holo projectors. There was always a telltale shimmer or distortion. She didn't see any. That made her a combination of confused and worried that she didn't like.

Nymova looked the strange creature over. It was some sort of anthropomorphic rodent-like species. No ears, at least none like she would imagine on a 'usual' anthro. Two rows of what she could only call 'antennae' stuck up approximately three inches from the top of the head, and they seemed to be somewhat mobile. The fur color was a dusty golden-yellow-brown, and looked to be both extremely fine, and extremely dense. Perhaps add some otter or beaver in the mix.

The G'Risa were wholly herbivorous, given the way those teeth were formed. Not quite as 'buck toothed' as some rodents, but broad and flat. This one was just about three feet tall, though she was obviously sexually mature. There were noticable swells on her chest (a little lower than Nymova might have expected) and while she wouldn't be willing to make any kind of a biological systems pronouncement, 'wide hips' absolutely was a valid observation.

"We're a new establishment," Nymova said with a bow. "Would you like for me to lie to you about how my front entrance is where it is, or would you like for me to tell you the truth?"

T'Reet's black eyes snapped back to the human woman. They narrowed as she considered. "I'm not going to like either one, am I?"

Nymova laughed. "I expect not. But if you insist, I will give you an explanation. In the mean time, please allow me to say that you will see things here that you cannot explain otherwise. They are, in fact, quite real. You are in no danger. And I will be happy to have you as a guest. Please, come this way and allow me to show you our selection?"

T'Reet's nose twitched, and then flared as she took a deep breath in. There was the scent of meat on the air, but it was clean, not something rancid. And while she couldn't eat it herself, she also knew that it was all part of the whole ecosystem. It wasn't nearly as much of a panic trigger as a direct threat, such as a predator baring their teeth.

More importantly, there were scents of roasted and fresh vegetables, things that she couldn't instantly identify. All fresh. No processed powders or anything of that nature. That, more than anything else, sealed it for her. She'd wanted to celebrate, and a good meal would be a good start.

*

T'Reet didn't know what was making her drool more, and her skittish nature was starting to creep back to the forefront due to that. The cost had been a pittance of her wages. She assumed that it was probably some kind of promotional cost, low prices that would eventually go up. She could at least understand that.

The private room that they'd given her for 'the evening' was palatial. If it was less than nine square meters, she'd... do... something. It was obviously sized for a larger species, and she could deal with that. It wasn't uncommon. But the decorations, the furniture, the WATER in the bathroom?! It would have cost an insane amount of money and energy to lift all of this out of a gravity well.

The food. By every star, cluster, galaxy and dimension, the FOOD. Organic. She'd been right, this was the Good Stuff. Greens and tubers and roots and weird things that she'd never seen but smelled so good. Little dishes with sauces and oils and spices. If they'd told her that this kind of meal was going to be ten times the cost she'd have still gone for it.

But the part that had her squirming was the 'attendant'. She'd seen a couple of mouse morphs in her time traveling from station to station, but they weren't common in this quadrant. He said that his name was Greg. She wasn't sure if he was particularly tall, or particularly short for his species. He was taller than she was, but not so much that it put her on edge.

He had the prettiest pink eyes and white fur. At first, he'd just checked in on her while she ate, refilling her juice and water, but sat down once she'd settled in. He didn't eat with her, but he did talk with her. Or at least, she talked with him.

He was such an insanely good listener. She could tell that he didn't get all of the technical aspects of her life, but he was able to understand where her frustrations were, and why they mattered. If he asked a question or made a comment, it was rarely some banal thing. Other than the verbal indicators that she should continue, but those didn't count.

After dessert, he invited her to take a seat next to him on the couch, and let her pick something to watch from the station's streaming services. T'Reet was starting to understand just how 'full service' this attendant was, and she decided that it would be a good thing for her to test him out on one final point before she let him go further.

G'Risa were a highly communal species. It was part of what had her so on edge about K'Reem. She didn't have a family group. She'd be able to start her own once she got her next promotion. She'd seen a lot of her friends give in to their urges to join a group just to be a part of one, only for it to go toxic.

She shifted herself so that she was sitting in his lap, and looked into his eyes as she started to explain why she was so stressed out about her potential relationship with K'Reem. About the social dynamics. About the loneliness she'd felt for the whole of her time on the station because of a lack of a family group.

He started out smiling, and then the more that she went on, the more that smile seemed to freeze on his face.

She saw the way that his jaw muscles clenched as she talked. The way that his pink eyes scrutinized her face and antennae array for whatever he could glean from that. When she finished, he kept his arms around her waist, holding her close for nearly five whole minutes of silence.

Greg drew in a deep breath, then let it all out. "I don't really even know where to start. That's a lot to take in and you have my sympathy for being in that situation." He stayed quiet for another full minute before continuing. "If you're looking for more than a night of passion and fun, then I am absolutely not what you should be settling for. But I think that you know that."

She grinned, and leaned in to brush her nose against his. "You're right. I'm not, and I think that maybe you should show me a little of that passion and fun. I've never been with a mouse before."

He sagged into the sofa before standing up, flexing his thighs to easily lift her up in his arms. "I've never been with a G'Risa before so I suppose we'll both learn. Anything I should particularly know?"

T'Reet shrugged. "Nothing too wild. Nothing that will keep us from having a nice night." She couldn't lock her legs around his waist, they were too short for that. She had to deal with just her arms being barely long enough to loop around his neck, let alone his chest.

Greg wasn't 'ripped' by any stretch of the imagination. She'd seen all sorts of people who made a point of working out at the gym and getting as large as physically possible. If anything, he was a... what was the term? Wink? Twink! That was it. All slender, defined but not bulky. He was certainly a lot taller and thinner than any G'Risa male she'd ever seen.

When he laid her down on the insanely large (for her) bed, he started to kiss her. It wasn't a native G'Risa custom, but she understood it, and she knew what it meant. Clumsy as she was, he had no problems working his hands quickly over the buttons of her jumpsuit's front, pushing it open.

Like Nymova had earlier noted, T'Reet's breasts were fully formed, but set lower on her frame than most of the anthro races would expect. Not down to growing out of her belly or even lower, but proportionally about a tenth of a body-length lower than most people expected. He found them and was confused for several seconds as he squeezed and played with her chest, while she pulled her arms free of the sleeves.

G'Risa didn't have protruding nipples. At least, normally. There were a few but they were not the general phenotype. He figured out how to make her moan, and that was the most important thing right now. She tangled her fingers into his platinum blond locks as he pressed his face into her chest, squirming quickly at the stimulation. For someone who had never been with one of her species before, he knew damn well exactly what to do to get her worked up!

Greg pushed the robe off of his shoulders and then kicked it free, leaving him as naked atop her as she was under him.

T'Reet almost ran from the room, screaming in terror. There was no way that he was going to be able to do anything to her. That cock was easily over 15 cm long. Probably closer to 17 or maybe even 18 (depending on how you measured). And yet. .... Yet she was so excited by it. Somehow she was safe, and yet not. She was about to be ravished. Taken in a way that she'd never dared to dream of in anything other than the wildest fantasies.

Greg's fingers brushed between her legs, slipping into the valley between them. And then further back when he didn't find what he was looking for. Far more posterior than he would have expected did he finally find the entrance to her slickness. No exterior clit. No labia minora (could you have a labia majora without a labia minora?) and no sense of where he 'should' go with his exploration. A bit more pressure on the outside of her body, just over the entrance made her moan a lot more than below. Internal nipples... no real aural dishes... perhaps an internal clit as well? Or some other analogous structure?

T'Reet's feet were drawn up and apart, spreading herself so that Greg could keep playing his fingers against her. She knew about the differences that he was expecting to find, and shivered that he was working her over as well as he was. His fingers were far closer to the size of a G'Risa male's penis than his own dick was, and so much more flexible. He had two of them inside of her and whether he knew it or not, he was already rubbing her nerve bundle. He probably did, given how she was panting and moaning.

Greg was trying to be patient, but this was exiting. It was not only his first client since he started with Nymova, but it was his first... almost everything. It wasn't his first time with a female (Nymova had seen to that) but it was his second. He was usually far more attracted to males, and was far happier being on the bottom. And yet, here she was, gasping and squirming under him. He could understand just why that was almost as much of a high as the sex for some guys a lot better now. Angling himself down into her, he pulled his fingers inside apart just enough to get his tip in the insanely small hole, and pushed forward at the same time that he pulled his fingers out.

On some levels, he had nothing to worry about. A baby G'Risa was about the size of some gourds. He wasn't anywhere near that large. On the other hand, he also knew that as small as she was, that he could possibly be just barely on the end of 'too much for fun'. So as he pulled his fingers free, he looked up to her face, holding just his glans inside.

T'Reet would have been mortified for anyone to see her face like that. It wasn't just contorted, it was practically turning in on itself as her muzzle fell open and she groaned. Her fingers dug into the shoulder blades so tightly that the only reason she didn't draw blood was her claws were freshly trimmed, and were the wrong kind for that.

Greg almost pulled back. He felt her breasts against his ribs, felt the way that she was thrashing under him. It was hard to say if it was pain or bliss, right up to the point that her hands reached down from his upper back to his butt, and hauled him forward. He slipped deeper and deeper, as her spine arched more and more and more. He'd seen felines do some impressive feats of contortion but this was almost boneless in how much she was curling in on herself.

But that signal was clear. No. He wasn't too much. And she wanted more. So he gave it to her. The first thrust was slow. Not tentative, as if sneaking in, but cautious. Feeling along the walls, learning the space that he had to work in, blindly. When he reached her back wall, he stopped. He didn't have all that much left to push forward, but he wasn't going to be able to 'hilt' her without causing her immense pain, and that wasn't in the cards tonight.

Instead, Greg explored her body as much as she allowed him to. He kissed her neck and forehead. It felt like each time he pushed forward, he made her cum. Maybe that wasn't actually true. But the way that her cries were wandering all over the audible range, and even past it on the ultra-sonic range, he doubted she was upset.

It was his first time being "A MAN" like some of the insecure people declared was "RIGHT". In general, he gave less thought to their opinion than he did to what he flushed down the toilet. And yet, he could at least appreciate some portion of that stance. The more he fucked her, the more she begged. He didn't speak her language, but her body language made it clear that she wasn't trying to get him off of her.

He had her on top. He had her from behind. He spanked her round ass. He fucked her like she was a plaything. Each time he pushed that boundary forward, he made sure that she was receptive. Each time he shifted to a new position, he gave her every opportunity to recover, to breathe, and to call a halt.

She never did. Not a single time.

Maybe she was pent up. Maybe her sex drive was higher, either as a species or as an individual. Maybe he was hitting fantasies for her. Whatever the case, he would have to thank Nymova for her help in making sure that he kept going. Because by the third time that he came within, he knew without a doubt that he was leaning on some sort of assistance from his lilim boss.

After an hour of on and off attention, she finally was done. She had chewed through one of the pillows while he was mounting her, and this time after her orgasm, she went slack in a way that wasn't just relaxation.

"T'Reet?" Greg pulled out of her and crawled forward, seeing that she was unconscious. "Holy shit." He fell onto his own back, feeling oddly grateful that she was finally not going to demand more from him. He was exhausted. Utterly. Totally exhausted.

He dozed for a little while, about a half hour or so, before he stood up and went to the closest to pull out a new pillow for the bed. Replacing the destroyed one, he brushed most of the filling off onto the floor. It was only at that point that he noticed that she hadn't moved, once. Still with her knees under her hips, still with her 'cheeks up, face down'. He'd have to tell Nymova or Sabe to start doing some more research or getting them access to files so they could understand some of their guests better. Was this a G'Risa thing? Would she wake up if he shifted her to lay under the covers? Or was her species even comforted by a comforter?

He decided to try it. T'Reet let out a low croon as he pulled the covers on one side of the bed down and then rolled her to the new bare patch. Covering her with the blankets, he settled her down as best he could.

She quite literally hadn't altered her position in the least. Her knees were still pointed 'down', her hands were still stretched over her head, though the arch in her spine had lessened now that gravity wasn't helping.

Greg left her to sleep on her own. He knew that sometimes it was the right call for that level of intimacy, but given his conversation with her, he didn't want her to form any kind of attachment to him that would hurt her.

*

T'Reet tapped the com on her armband. "943 to Control, isolating filter C-112 for cleaning and inspection."

"Control to 943, copy."

She had worked the first of the bolts free when her com buzzed. She knew who it was. No one else sent her messages like that. She finished with the second bolt before she tugged the device off of her arm and looked at the text. Another invitation to K'Reem's place to 'discuss her future'.

She barely realized what she was typing until she did her habitual check for spelling and grammar errors. "I am quite happy with my future prospects as they are. I appreciate your interest but it is not reciprocated. Any further hints or communications of that nature will go straight to Guild Leader P'Run." She clicked send, and then put her music back on.

She idly wondered if she should report K'Reem anyway. There were a few things that he did that were pushing the boundaries of the Guild Standards, and not just in propositioning her. It was getting close to time for his reassignment.

And she had no idea if that door would show up on other stations.

---

This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any characters, living, dead or imaginary is purely a coincidence. All characters are a product of the author's imagination and copyright to them, unless noted guest appearances of other copyrighted characters are listed in this notice. Comments may be left (and are encouraged!) on the author's FurAffinity or SoFurry page. If you liked this story, and wish to support the author, please visit their Patreon.

This story is a work of fiction. Any immoral acts included in this story are a fantasy and should not be taken as encouragement to perform or endorsement of these acts by the author. Specifically, because apparently it needs to be said; anything other than expressed consent for any sexual encounter by a legal unimpaired sentient adult is wrong, immoral, and evil. Unwilling subjugation of sentients who have committed no crime is wrong, immoral, and evil.