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Bessies Bar

© Cederwyn Whitefurr

11th March 2025

All Rights Reserved.

Chapter One: A Fool in the Bar

“You know, Bessie,” Doe slurred, her body swaying slightly on the barstool as she slumped sideways, then righted herself, pressing her paws against the wood. “Woah…”

Bessie let out a long, exasperated sigh and slung the barcloth over her shoulder, leaning forward until her nose brushed against Doe’s. She met Doe’s glazed gaze, her voice low and firm. “I know lots of things. First, you’re drunk. No more,” she muttered, gently nudging Doe’s empty shot glass away with a soft scrape against the wood.

Doe blinked slowly, first one eye, then the other, before her tongue darted out to lick Bessie’s nose. “You moo when you come…” she giggled, her eyes mischievous and unfocused.

Bessie’s lips quirked, her expression slipping into something controlled—something dangerous. She ran a hoof under Doe’s chin, tilting her head up so their gazes locked, the gentle touch almost an afterthought. “Keep it up, Doe. If you weren’t drunk, I’d make you use that tongue and muzzle of yours…” Her voice was quiet, low, but thick with command, a warning that couldn’t be ignored.

Before Doe could respond, Bessie plucked the empty shot glass from her fingers and slid it beneath the bar with a sharp motion. “I’m cutting you off,” she added, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Doe pouted slightly, drunkenly trying to focus on Bessie. “You’re no fun,” she muttered, though a playful smile lingered on her lips as her body swayed with the rhythm of the room.

Bessie’s eyes softened just enough to show there was more to her than the tough exterior she wore. “I’m fun enough,” she murmured, reaching out to steady Doe, her hand brushing across her lover’s side to prevent her from slipping off the stool.

A quiet moment passed, tension gathering between them, the silence thick with unspoken words. Bessie let her fingers linger against Doe’s small of the back before guiding her gently off the stool, her grip firm but not unkind. As Bessie steadied her, Doe leaned in closer, her breath warm against Bessie’s skin.

“You know I’d do anything for you, Bessie…” Doe whispered, her voice softer, her drunkenness slipping into something more vulnerable.

Bessie paused, her eyes darkening for a moment, feeling her heart beat a little faster. “And I’d make you earn it, every damn time.”

Doe giggled softly, the sound lighthearted, and as she clung to Bessie’s side, one paw teasingly rested against Bessie’s large chest. The playful squeeze she gave sent a rush of heat through Bessie’s chest, but before she could fully react, she swiftly pulled Doe’s paw away, her grip firm but gentle.

She didn’t care who saw it—her patience was wearing thin.

With a quick tug, Bessie guided the unsteady doe toward the back of the bar, the low hum of chatter fading as they passed through the heavy curtains. The familiar scent of wood and leather filled the air, and with each step, Bessie’s posture straightened, the dominant energy she so often kept in check surging just beneath the surface.

She laid Doe out gently on the oversized, reinforced bed in the back room, the thick blankets catching her lover’s tired form as Doe sank into the mattress. Bessie lingered above her for a moment, watching as Doe’s chest rose and fell with each breath, her half-drunk expression softened in innocence.

"Sleep it off," Bessie rumbled, her voice thick with authority, yet there was affection in the words that softened the edges. "You’ll regret it in the morning."

"I’m not..." Doe’s voice trailed off, her eyes fluttering closed as the weight of the alcohol overtook her. Her words faded into soft mumbles, and within seconds, the storm shutters of her mind slammed down. She passed out cold, her head sinking into the pillow with a content sigh.

Bessie stood over her for a long moment, the rare smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched Doe’s steady breathing. The playful teasing had faded, replaced by something quieter—tenderness, perhaps, or something deeper that Bessie wouldn’t acknowledge aloud.

With one last lingering glance at her lover, Bessie turned and headed back toward the bar. Her thoughts, however, still lingered on Doe, tucked away safely in the back room. It was a side of herself Bessie rarely showed—how much she cared, how much she felt the pull of Doe’s presence in a way she couldn’t quite understand.

The bar had returned to its usual hum, patrons chattering, glasses clinking, but the energy felt different now. She was back at the heart of it all, yet her mind kept flicking toward the back of the room.

As she moved between the tables, a particular stallion caught her eye—his gaze lingering just a little too long as he watched her from across the room. Drunk off his hooves, Bessie could tell from the way his posture shifted that he thought he could test her tonight. A foolish notion.

She smiled at him—a soft, deliberate smile that suggested just enough interest to draw him in. The stallion, emboldened by alcohol, leaned forward with a smirk, running a hoof through his mane. “Well, Bessie,” he slurred, clearly pleased with himself, “How do you like your eggs in the morning?”

Bessie didn’t respond immediately. She simply smiled, her gaze steady, almost lazy, as she moved toward him with slow, deliberate steps. She could feel the pull of his arrogance, but she wasn’t going to let him think she was easy to conquer.

She stood just close enough to him now that he could smell the warmth of her presence, the soft curve of her body brushing lightly against his as she moved with practiced confidence. “You think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you, cowboy?” Her voice was smooth and silky, but something deeper simmered beneath.

The stallion puffed out his chest, a grin plastered on his face. “I’ve got plenty more tricks up my sleeve,” he boasted.

Bessie didn’t let him finish his sentence. With a sudden shift in her energy, she moved faster than he anticipated, her fingers gliding down his shirt to his jeans with a touch that was almost tender but quickly turned cold. Before he could react, Bessie’s hand shot lower, her fingers digging into his sensitive area with surprising strength.

The stallion’s breath hitched, his chest tightening as he realized too late that he had misjudged her. His eyes widened, and a low gasp of pain escaped him, his body stiffening as he tried to back away. But Bessie wasn’t done yet.

With one swift motion, she grabbed him by the mane, yanking his head back sharply, her strength sending a shock through his body. He stumbled, disoriented, as Bessie dragged him effortlessly toward the door, every step calculated.

The patrons had gone quiet, watching in stunned silence. No one dared to move.

Bessie threw open the door and shoved the stallion into the cold night air. He hit the dirt with a thud, scrambling to get to his feet, but before he could do more than grunt, Bessie’s sharp hoof met his rear with a swift, powerful kick that sent him sprawling.

She paused at the door for a moment, her voice cold, cutting through the silence of the night. “Unfertilised.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

Inside, the silence lingered just a moment longer before the chatter slowly returned to its usual rhythm, though no one dared to speak of what had just transpired. They all knew better than to mess with Bessie.

*

_ Chapter Two – Hangover Regrets _

Morning sun filtered lazily through the shuttered windows of Bessie’s Bar, casting long, golden streaks across the polished wood floor. The usual morning calm settled in, thick with the scent of coffee, stale beer, and aged wood. Bessie stood behind the bar, a towel draped over her shoulder, wiping down the counter. Her hands moved methodically, grounding her in the routine.

Her gaze flicked to Doe, sprawled on one of the stools, head resting heavily on the bar. The doe’s fur was a mess—her usually pristine white coat was now ruffled, strands falling out of place. Her ears twitched occasionally as if she could still hear the remnants of last night’s music, but for the most part, she was still out of it, the alcohol clinging to her.

Bessie sighed, leaning on the bar. “Feel okay, Doe?”

Doe mumbled something incoherent, face half-buried in her elbow. Slowly, she lifted her head, eyes bleary. “Mm, yeah… just a little fuzzy.”

Bessie raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’ve got more than a bit of fuzz on you. Maybe I should’ve cut you off earlier.”

Doe’s ears flicked, and she grinned, though it was wobbly. “I can handle it. Besides,” she paused, voice shifting flirtatious, “I think you liked it.”

Bessie chuckled, leaning back. Her gaze drifted to Doe’s paw tracing circles on the bar. “I do like you. A lot,” she said, voice low. “But today, I’m the responsible one. No more drinks.”

Doe pouted. “It’s too early for responsibility. One more, I’ll be good, I promise.”

Bessie shook her head, lips curling into a reluctant smile. “You’re too much.”

She reached under the bar, pulling out a small mug and pouring hot coffee into it. She slid it toward Doe. “Coffee. Just what you need to sober up.”

Doe eyed the mug suspiciously before taking a tentative sip. The warmth spread down her throat, and she exhaled, savoring it. “Yeah, I think I’m starting to feel it. But next time… less whiskey.”

Bessie leaned on the bar again, arms crossed. “You’re lucky I like you. Most folks would've been out the door by now.”

Doe blinked, then looked up, more alert. “Yeah?” She grinned, leaning in. “Lucky for me, I’m your favorite troublemaker.”

Bessie’s lips curled slightly. “You sure are. But don’t push your luck. We’ve got a long day ahead, and you need to take care of yourself.”

Doe’s smile faded as she processed the seriousness of Bessie’s words. “I know,” she muttered. “I don’t know why I always do that.”

Bessie placed a hand over Doe’s. “You don’t need to prove anything to me. I’m not gonna let you screw yourself up.”

Doe’s ears drooped, and she met Bessie’s eyes. “I just… Sometimes it feels good to let go.”

Bessie nodded slowly, squeezing her hand. “Letting go doesn’t mean losing yourself. You’re better than that.”

Doe nodded, her gaze softening with gratitude. Bessie leaned in closer, her nose brushing Doe’s ear. “Let’s get you cleaned up. The bar’s about to get busy.”

Doe smiled faintly, leaning into Bessie’s touch. “I’m ready… just need another minute.”

Bessie chuckled softly. “Take all the time you need.”

The morning settled into a quiet, unspoken connection between them. For now, it was just the two of them, their bond growing stronger despite their differences.

*

_ Chapter Three: Showered in Mischief _

Before Doe could protest, Bessie guided her toward the back of the bar, pushing open the door to the staff bathroom. The shower space was nothing fancy—old tile, a worn shower curtain, and strong water pressure. The simplicity of it felt almost comforting, a contrast to the tension that had built between them all evening.

Once inside, Doe’s mischievous spirit flickered back to life. Her tail swayed behind her, playful, as she leaned against the shower edge, teasing. “Mmm, Bessie… You think I need help getting clean?” Her voice was light, but there was something unspoken in it—a question that went beyond soap.

Bessie chuckled, turning on the water. She shot Doe a playful glance. “Cut it out, you.” Gently nudging her, she encouraged Doe into the stall. “We’re both getting clean, not putting on a show.”

The water began to flow, steam rising as Bessie worked the soap between her hands, massaging it into Doe’s fur. Doe leaned against Bessie’s steady form, the warmth from the water washing over her, a soft hum of contentment filling the space between them.

“Not fair, Bessie,” Doe murmured, her voice playful but heavy. “You’re teasing me now.”

Bessie’s eyes softened, noticing the tension in Doe’s shoulders. She paused for a moment, the water flowing over them both. “You don’t have to put on a front with me. Not anymore.”

Doe stiffened slightly, her smile faltering. “What do you mean, ‘front’?” She tilted her head, her gaze flicking to Bessie’s. “I’m fine. Just because I’m playful doesn’t mean I’m hiding anything.”

Bessie didn’t push, but her hands softened. “I know you’re fine,” she said softly, her voice full of warmth. “But you don’t always have to pretend, Doe.”

Doe’s gaze dropped. She sighed, almost imperceptibly, her voice barely audible over the water. “I’m still figuring things out. Some days, it’s easier to be... this. Flirty, fun. It’s simpler than facing the other stuff.”

Bessie’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Doe’s words. She paused again, her hands gently resting on Doe’s shoulders. “You don’t need to be anything for me, Doe. I’m not looking for a show. Just you.”

Doe’s tail flicked once, then stilled. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to breathe. When she spoke again, it was softer, quieter. “I don’t know how to ask for help. Or let myself just... be. Without thinking I’m too much, or not enough.”

Bessie’s hands moved to the back of her neck, drawing Doe closer. Their foreheads touched. “You’re more than enough,” Bessie whispered, her voice soothing. “You don’t need to prove anything. Just be yourself. I’m right here.”

Doe relaxed, breathing deeply. “I’m still figuring that out,” she admitted with a shy smile. “But I think I’m starting to believe you.”

They stood together in the warmth of the water, the silence between them filled with quiet understanding, as the weight of the evening lifted, if only a little.

*

Chapter Four: Confessions

The bar was empty now, save for Bessie and Doe. The usual hum of chatter had been replaced by a lingering silence. The playful banter between them had faded, leaving something unspoken in the air—a tension that felt deeper than their usual flirting.

As they retreated to the quieter back room, the shift was palpable. Bessie could feel Doe’s energy change, her usual playful edge replaced with something quieter, almost unsure. She guided Doe to the couch, watching as the younger woman settled next to her. Doe’s body language was different now—tentative, unlike the confident teasing that had defined their evening.

“Bessie,” Doe began, her voice softer than usual, and for the first time, there was no joking in her tone. “I’m always pretending, you know? Acting like I’m fine, but I’m not.”

Bessie turned to her, moving closer and taking Doe’s hand in hers. “You don’t have to hide with me,” she said gently. “What’s going on?”

Doe hesitated, her fingers tracing the fabric of the couch. “I don’t know how to ask for what I need. I’ve been playing games with everyone, acting like I don’t care, but I’m tired of it. I need to feel wanted. Not like a joke. Just… me.”

Bessie’s chest tightened at the honesty in Doe’s voice. She cupped Doe’s face, lifting her gaze. “You matter, Doe. You’re not a joke to me. You never have been.”

Doe’s eyes softened, and before Bessie could say more, Doe leaned in, her lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was simple, soft, and real—no games, just the two of them in the moment.

When they pulled apart, Doe’s voice was quiet but steady. “I needed to hear that,” she murmured, her face flushed with vulnerability. “This matters. You matter.”

Bessie smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from Doe’s face. “You matter more than anything,” she said, her voice unwavering.

The space between them felt different now—comfortable. There was no more pretence. Just two people quietly acknowledging the truth of their connection.

*

Chapter Five: A Night of Regrets

As the afternoon sun began to fade, a group of visiting bucks—bright-eyed and full of energy—wandered into Bessie’s Bar. Their faded jerseys and baseball caps marked them as a team fresh from a game, all eager to unwind after a long day. The team quickly filled a few tables, laughing and joking as they ordered drinks.

One buck, particularly chatty with a mischievous grin, slid into a seat at the bar next to Doe. She was nursing a coffee, leaning lazily against the counter with a slight, knowing smile. The bar was quiet, save for the light chatter of the new arrivals and the clink of glass.

"Hey there," the buck said, his voice smooth and confident. "What's a beautiful doe like you doing in a place like this?"

Doe’s ears perked up, her usual playful energy bubbling to the surface as she gave him a sidelong glance. "Oh, you know, just waiting for the chaos to start," she replied, her voice laced with amusement.

Bessie, from behind the bar, noticed the exchange. She raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between Doe and the buck. The corner of her mouth twitched into a small smirk, but she didn’t intervene—Doe could handle herself. Still, she couldn’t help but throw a knowing side-eye in their direction.

"You're asking for trouble," Bessie muttered under her breath, though she trusted her lover enough to let her have her fun.

The buck chuckled, leaning a little closer to Doe. "So, what’s your story? I’ve got a few of my own. You might like them."

Doe’s tail flicked, her expression shifting between flirtation and something more mischievous. "I’m sure you do, but you’re gonna have to work for it if you want to hear any," she teased.

As the conversation continued, the rest of the team gathered around them, all clearly amused and joining in the playful banter. Before long, the team was laughing and joking together, hoisting their beers. One by one, they invited Doe to join them in the back room. Bessie watched, half-expecting what was about to happen but trusting Doe to keep things in check.

*

Chapter Five: Night of Regrets – Part Two

Inside, the room smelled of stale wood and the crackling of the fireplace. A low couch sat against one wall, a few chairs were scattered around, and a small table was littered with half-empty bottles of liquor. The bucks settled in quickly, pulling out drinks and chatting as if they hadn’t just spent an hour on the field. Doe’s eyes flitted from one to the next, assessing them with a practiced gaze, feeling their eyes linger on her in ways she’d grown accustomed to.

"Take a seat, gorgeous," one of them called out, flashing a grin as he patted the empty spot beside him on the couch.

Doe’s lips quirked into a playful smile as she crossed the room, the sharp click of her hooves cutting through the air. She was used to this—flirtation, the game the bucks thought they could win her over with a few jokes and their bravado. But tonight, something felt different. Maybe it was the attention she craved, maybe it was the release, or maybe she was just searching for something she couldn’t name.

She dropped onto the couch, settling beside the grinning buck. The others gathered around, their energy infectious, their inhibitions loosened by alcohol. It was all the usual banter, and for a moment, Doe allowed herself to get caught up in it. She laughed, threw back a drink, and leaned in just a little too close to make her presence felt.

But as the time passed, that strange tension crept back. She couldn’t focus on their words anymore, their charm falling flat against the weight of something she wasn’t ready to admit. Her mind flickered to Bessie, to that quiet concern in her eyes. She couldn’t shake it—the idea that maybe she was making a mistake, that maybe this wasn’t the way to deal with everything she was carrying inside.

Then, one of the bucks caught her gaze, and she felt that familiar spark. Maybe, just maybe, it would be easier to lose herself here, in the chaos and the laughter. So she let it happen, letting the tension in her chest fall away as the room around her grew warmer, the voices louder, and desire pulsed through her veins.

As the group of bucks crowded in closer, Doe could feel the buzz in the air shift. The playful energy began to waver, replaced by something more primal.

The room grew quieter, the air thick with the musky scent of sweat and alcohol. The bucks, now fully relaxed, had surrounded the couch where Doe sat, some leaning against the walls, others perched nearby with drinks in hand. Laughter still echoed, but their conversations were becoming more subdued, as if they were testing the waters, waiting for her move.

Doe’s fingers drummed absently on the arm of the couch, her gaze flicking between the bucks, absorbing their attention. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for—an escape, a thrill, a distraction. But this restlessness had been building inside her, and she didn’t know how to quell it.

A tall, dark-haired buck leaned down next to her, the scent of liquor heavy on his breath. "So," he began, his voice teasing but laced with something deeper, "you look like you're in the mood for a little fun."

Doe tilted her head back slightly, her lips curling into a slow, flirtatious smile. She met his eyes, letting her gaze linger just a moment longer than necessary, feeling the heat rise between them. "Maybe," she said, her voice low and smooth, the playful teasing matching the energy in the room.

Another buck, broader and rougher around the edges, leaned over the couch, his hand resting casually on the back of it. "Come on, gorgeous, don’t keep us waiting," he said, his voice rough, a challenge hanging in the air.

Doe felt that familiar rush of excitement pulse through her veins. This was what she’d been looking for, right? The tension, the desire, the feeling of being wanted. The adrenaline buzzed beneath her skin, making her feel alive. But even as she leaned into the moment, something shifted inside her—a gnawing feeling, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

She pushed it down, her eyes darting to the bucks. Their gazes were hungry, waiting. She could feel the weight of their expectations. It wasn’t just play anymore. It was real, it was physical, and it was happening now.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Doe asked, her voice quieter now, the teasing edge gone. She wasn’t sure if she was asking them or herself, but she needed to know where they stood. The tension between them thickened, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if the room had shrunk, closing in on her.

The dark-haired buck smiled again, that grin widening. “I think we’ve waited long enough.”

He moved closer, his hand finding her arm and tugging her gently toward him. Doe’s heart pounded in her chest. Part of her wanted to pull away, but another part—the part that needed to feel in control, needed to feel desired—leaned in, letting him draw her into his orbit.

The other bucks began to close in as well, their energy infectious, their anticipation palpable. One by one, they gathered around her, their presence overwhelming, yet in a twisted way, it felt… comfortable. In a way, it felt like she was in control. This was how it was supposed to be, right?

But as their hands grazed her skin and their words became more demanding, something inside Doe flinched. The warmth that had once felt welcoming now felt suffocating. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she felt like she was drowning.

But she couldn’t stop. She didn’t know how. She couldn’t back out now, not after everything. So, she leaned into the moment, allowing herself to fall into the rhythm of the room, trying to silence the voice in her head that screamed for her to stop.

She pulled one of the bucks closer, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered something—a promise, a challenge. The rest of the room fell silent for a second, the energy hanging heavy in the air as they waited for her next move. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears, her heat, the urges, the desire...

The storm was no longer coming, it broke over her with recklessness and destruction in its mind.

Doe giggled, unbuttoning a button, her eyes filled with lustful urges and longing. "Shall we?"

*

_ Chapter Five: Night Of Regrets – Part Three _

A few hours later, the bucks emerged from the back room. Their faces were flushed, swaggering with that familiar post-session bravado, but something was different. Their eyes were dull and unfocused as if they'd been through something they couldn’t quite process. Normally, after their usual indulgences, they were still charged, albeit exhausted. But this time? It was different—empty in a way that left Bessie’s stomach tightening.

They high-fived and laughed, but it was awkward. Forced. Their movements were sluggish as if their bodies were struggling to reconnect with the present moment. They slumped into chairs, drained yet oddly disconnected, still trying to come down from whatever had just transpired.

Bessie didn’t think much of it at first. The bucks were regulars, after all. But the longer they lingered, the more her unease deepened. The longer Doe remained in the back room, the more that feeling of dread gnawed at her. Doe had always been quick to return to the bar, joking, smiling, sometimes bragging about the session. But this time, nothing.

Something wasn’t right.

She wiped her hands on her apron, excused herself from the bar, and moved toward the private room. Her pulse quickened as she pushed open the door.

The sight that greeted her made her blood run cold.

Doe was bent over the couch, her body limp and slack, like a ragdoll with no energy left to hold herself up. Her arms hung down loosely, her head low, eyes glazed over. Sweat clung to her fur, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. She looked like she was struggling to keep her head above water, exhausted in a way that didn’t belong after what was supposed to be "just fun."

Bessie’s heart dropped into her stomach.

When Doe finally lifted her head, it was only slightly—her eyes were bleary, unfocused, and her lips stretched into a forced, hollow smile. “Uh... hey,” she greeted her with a flippant tone that didn’t match the wreckage of her state. It was almost like she was still riding the high, trying to pass it off as nothing, but the cracks were already showing.

Bessie didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze flicked over her lover’s disheveled form, the tense, weary muscles beneath her fur, the almost painful-looking way Doe was slouched. Her limbs trembled, barely holding her up. It hit Bessie harder than expected—the sight of Doe like this, this shell of the girl she loved, was a gut punch.

“Doe…” Bessie’s voice was quiet, but the concern was evident, no longer easy to hide. “What happened?”

Doe hesitated, her eyes flicking away before she slowly met Bessie’s gaze again. She tried to lift herself more upright, but the effort was too much. Her body seemed to collapse in on itself, unable to bear the weight of her exhaustion. “It wasn’t that bad, Bess,” she muttered, her voice weak and far too casual. “Just... a little fun. You know how it is.”

Bessie’s brow furrowed, her expression hardening. “Fun?” she repeated, her voice thick with worry. “Doe, you don’t look like you had fun. You look like you can barely move.”

Doe let out a shaky laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “It was just... intense. That’s all.” She looked away again, her tail twitching in a nervous, restless motion. Her body seemed to be rejecting her attempt at normalcy.

Bessie moved closer, crouching down beside the couch, feeling that cold edge of dread settle in her chest. She gently lifted Doe’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “What did they do to you?” she asked softly, the words heavy with unspoken understanding.

Doe’s eyes flickered, guilt flashing across her face. She opened her mouth, but the words faltered in her throat. “I... I didn’t think it’d go so far,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t think they’d—”

Bessie cut her off, her fingers gently brushing over Doe’s cheek, her thumb soothing. “You don’t have to handle this alone, Doe. You don’t have to keep pushing yourself like this.”

Doe turned her face away, her gaze filled with guilt. “I just... I thought I could keep up,” she murmured. “I didn’t want to be the one who couldn’t handle it.” Her voice cracked, and Bessie could hear the fear and shame beneath the words.

Bessie’s heart twisted. She squeezed Doe’s cheek gently, forcing her to meet her gaze again. “You don’t have to prove anything to them,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Especially not like this.”

Doe closed her eyes, a shaky breath escaping her as if the weight of the night was crashing down on her all at once. “I just wanted to feel wanted, Bess,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Not just... used.”

Bessie felt that gut-punch of realization as the truth hit her—this was what Doe was really after, that craving for something more than just what the bucks could give. Bessie’s voice softened, but it was still filled with conviction. “And you are, love. Always. You don’t have to go through this to feel wanted.”

Doe let out a shaky breath, collapsing back into the couch, rubbing her sore backside with a wince. “I shouldn’t have done it... not like that,” she murmured, her voice trembling with regret. “Urgh, my aching rump…”

Bessie’s lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes narrowing with a mix of frustration and concern. “At least you remembered your promise...” she muttered under her breath, the bitterness barely hidden beneath the surface.

Doe gave a tired, broken smile, but it was fragile, like it could shatter at any moment. She looked up at Bessie with something in her eyes—something vulnerable and lost. “I’m fine, Bess,” she whispered, though the words held no conviction. “Really.”

Bessie snorted, a flicker of irritation passing over her features before she suppressed it. She stood and moved over to Doe, pulling her up gently but firmly. Doe’s body shook with exhaustion, her limbs trembling like she couldn’t quite hold herself together anymore. The familiar spark in her eyes was gone, replaced by something darker, something far more complicated.

“Doe.” Bessie’s voice softened as she pulled her up, but her concern was clear. “Go shower and clean up... please.”

Doe’s ears flattened, and her steps faltered as she tried to walk toward the shower. The weight of what she had done was settling in, and with each step, Bessie could see it. Her lover was broken, and there was nothing Bessie could do to fix it—not this time. Not after what she’d allowed to happen.

Bessie watched Doe shuffle off, her tail hanging low, her body heavy with guilt. And as she turned away to leave, Bessie couldn’t shake the thought from her mind—the terrible, awful thought that echoed in her chest:

Why do I feel like I just kicked a fawn?

It was the weight of disappointment, mixed with the quiet understanding of what Doe had gone through. Bessie was upset, yes—but the deep conflict in her heart made it hard to reconcile. She couldn’t be angry at the bucks—not fully. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel that Doe had let herself get lost in something she should’ve known better than to dive into. She knew better.

But Doe had been dealing with her trauma in her way—and it left Bessie bitterly conflicted.

*

Chapter Five: Night Of Regrets – Part Four

Bessie frowned, glancing at the clock. It had been over an hour and a half since Doe had gone to shower, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

She moved about the bar, methodically shutting everything down, but the unease in her gut only deepened. The door was locked, the jukebox was off, the lights dimmed to a dull glow—and yet the stillness felt wrong. Too quiet.

Then she heard it.

Soft, muffled, broken.

At first, it barely registered—just a whisper of sound beneath the hush of the empty bar. But then it came again, a quiet, gasping sob that made her breath hitch.

Bessie froze.

Then she ran.

She barely remembered moving, only that the sound guided her through the silence, pulling her toward it with an urgency she didn’t question. The closer she got, the clearer it became—Doe’s sobs, ragged and desperate, bleeding into the fabric of their shared room.

She pushed the door open without knocking.

Doe was curled up on the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest, her body trembling with every shallow breath. Her face was buried against the fabric, but the way her shoulders shook told Bessie everything. She was breaking.

Bessie’s stomach clenched, but she didn’t speak right away. She just stepped closer, lowering herself onto the edge of the bed. She watched, listening to the quiet, agonizing sound of Doe’s grief.

“Love,” she murmured, her voice soft. “What happened?”

Doe hiccuped, flinching at the sound of Bessie’s voice. Slowly, she lifted her head, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and raw, swollen eyes. Her lips parted, but no words came, just a trembling breath that barely held itself together.

Then, finally, in a voice so small it nearly broke Bessie’s heart, Doe whispered,

“I don’t... I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Her hands clenched tighter around the pillow as if she could wring the shame from her fingers. “Why do I... why do I do this? Why can’t I just be normal?”

Bessie’s heart twisted painfully.

She reached out, brushing damp hair from Doe’s forehead, her touch gentle. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Doe gave a shaky laugh, but it came out more like a sob. “What’s left to say?” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I thought... I thought I could fill the emptiness, the hole. But every time I try, it just makes it worse.”

She let out a slow, shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry, Bessie. I don’t know how to fix this... how to fix me.”

Bessie’s throat tightened.

She didn’t say it was_ okay_ because it wasn’t. She didn’t say you don’t have to be fixed because Doe wouldn’t believe it.

Instead, she moved closer, easing the pillow from Doe’s grip before pulling her into her arms.

"I’m here, love," Bessie whispered, holding her against her chest, feeling the way Doe trembled against her. "You don’t have to do this alone."

Doe clung to her, pressing her face into Bessie’s warmth as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

Bessie held her tighter, one hand stroking slow, soothing circles down her back. She said nothing else, letting her touch speak where words would fail.

For a while, the room was quiet but for the sound of Doe’s sniffling breaths, the occasional hiccuped sob. The weight of the night lingered—Doe had scrubbed herself raw in the shower, but the scent of the bucks still clung faintly to her fur. It mixed with salt and sorrow, with exhaustion and regret.

Bessie closed her eyes, resting her chin atop Doe’s head.

Finally, Doe’s crying slowed, breath evening out into something softer, more fragile. She shifted slightly, curling deeper into Bessie’s embrace, her cheek pressed against Bessie’s chest.

Bessie gently wiped away a stray tear with the edge of the bedsheet, then, with the kind of exhausted fondness that only came from loving someone through their worst, she murmured,

“So... eight bucks, huh?”

Doe let out a weak, muffled snort against Bessie’s shirt. “Eight…” she mumbled. “One wanted... something extra.”

Bessie stiffened slightly. “Oh?”

Doe shifted, peeking up at her with something between mischief and shame. “I’m pretty good at it, you know…”

Bessie stared at her for a long moment, then sighed, shaking her head. “You’re not pulling my tail, are you?”

Doe’s smirk faltered. Her gaze darted away.

A moment passed before she exhaled, her voice quieter now. “I wasn’t trying to... I just… I needed to feel like I mattered. Like I could be loved again.” Her hands clenched against Bessie’s shirt. “After everything with my ex, I just... felt like I was disappearing inside.”

Bessie’s heart softened.

“Oh, babe...” She pulled Doe closer again, her voice full of quiet understanding. “You don’t have to chase love like that. You already have it.”

Doe squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing hard. “I just… wanted to feel alive again, Bess.” She exhaled shakily. “I’m so sorry…”

Bessie kissed the top of her head, her voice gentle but firm. "You don’t need to apologize for hurting, love. But this..." She ran her fingers through Doe’s hair, her voice quieting. “This isn’t the way to make it better.”

Doe said nothing, only curled tighter against her. Her body was still tense, still haunted by the weight of it all.

Bessie held her anyway.

For a long time, there was only warmth. The steady rise and fall of breath. The scent of sorrow and regret still lingers in the air.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer.

Bessie kept her arms wrapped around Doe, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

She could still smell it. Still felt the weight of it clinging to her fur, to them both.

This isn’t the first time.

She sighed, closing her eyes, chin resting against Doe’s hair.

And gods help me… I know it won’t be the last.

*

_ Chapter Six: Recollection in a Bar. _

It’d been two weeks since that night—the one that had knocked her world off balance. The one that had left her tangled in confusion and too many emotions to count. By the time Doe had finally lapsed into a deep, exhausted sleep, dawn was breaking. And now, here she was, in the quiet of the bar, nursing a drink that just didn’t seem to taste quite right.

"Milk?" Doe snorted, looking at the glass as if it might bite her. "Do I look like a fawn?"

Bessie gave the doe a deadpan look, eyes flicking over Doe’s wrinkled muzzle. Then, after a moment of silence, a chuckle rumbled from her chest. “Drink it, it’s good for you.”

Doe let out a heavy sigh and slammed the glass back, setting it down with a force that might have startled a less sturdy drink. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then looked at Bessie, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “I’d be happier if it came straight from the source…”

Bessie arched an eyebrow, her tail swishing slowly behind her. "Honey, you weren’t even around the last time I had milk to feed a calf.”

Doe let out a soft snicker, half-shaking her head. “I can dream…”

She pushed the glass away with her hooflets, her eyes tracing the now-empty bar. The quiet felt heavier somehow. She glanced at Bessie, trying to keep her thoughts light, but something about the night made her feel more raw, more exposed.

The silence stretched a little longer before Bessie leaned back in her chair with a relaxed chuckle. Her eyes softened as she gave Doe an almost teasing look. “Alright, so nine bucks, huh? That’s a lot of… uh, intensity.”

Doe groaned, covering her face with both hands as a flush spread across her cheeks. "Eight, Bess. It was eight, I swear." She paused, a small smile breaking through despite the embarrassment. “And I can’t believe you're still bringing this up."

Bessie let out a knowing laugh, leaning forward slightly. Her paw brushed Doe’s hand in a gentle, almost affectionate gesture. “I’m just curious, Doe. It’s not every day I see a doe get... that involved.” She winked. “How’d it feel, though? The whole... ordeal?”

Doe’s muzzle wrinkled in a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You’re not letting this go, are you?”

Bessie’s grin was full of mischief, but her eyes softened when she saw the slight tension still in Doe’s posture. “Nah, I’m just trying to understand. You’ve been through a lot, right? Doesn’t seem like something you forget easily.”

Doe’s expression faltered for a second, and her ears flicked nervously. She couldn’t quite hide the vulnerability that crept into her voice. “Yeah... I guess it’s not something you just ‘get over.’” Her gaze dropped to her hooves for a moment, almost like she was looking for something solid to ground herself in.

Bessie’s voice dropped to something more intimate. “You’re okay now, though, right?” She squeezed Doe’s knee lightly, the touch warm and reassuring. “I’m here, you know. Always.”

Doe nodded slowly, her eyes meeting Bessie’s with a depth of unspoken gratitude. “Yeah. I’m... I’m okay. Just needed to sort through it. A lot happened. More than I expected.” She sighed softly, running a hoof across her muzzle. “I guess I wasn’t ready for everything that came with it.”

Bessie’s expression softened, her gaze lingering on Doe for a few heartbeats. “You don’t have to be. And you don’t have to go through it alone.” She leaned a little closer, voice low and steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the kind of understanding only shared history could bring. Doe’s heart swelled with the warmth of Bessie’s presence, and the weight on her chest lightened just a little more.

Doe exhaled softly, her voice softer now. “I guess I’m still figuring it out, but... having you here helps.”

Bessie gave a small, reassuring smile. “Good. That’s all I need to hear.”

A slight smile barely twitched on Doe’s lips. This hard exterior but soft, gooey interior... one I know well... She closed her eyes for a moment, her heart feeling heavy in her chest. She loves me, and I love her, with all my broken, stupid heart. Yet I keep hurting her... myself. Why do I do it? Why?

The weight of it all pressed down on her again, but for the first time in a long time, the quiet of the bar was a balm. It wrapped around her, and she let herself lean into it, just for a moment, just enough to breathe.

For the first time in two weeks, Doe didn’t feel the sharp sting of everything that had happened. The quiet of the bar wrapped around them, a cocoon of comfort, and for the moment, she allowed herself to rest—just a little—before the next storm.

*

_ Chapter Seven: Love Rekindled _

Doe barely had time to react before she found herself hoisted off the bar stool, her hooves kicking uselessly in the air.

“Bessie—hey! Put me down, you overgrown—!” Her protest was cut off by a startled bleat as Bessie slung her over one broad shoulder like she weighed nothing at all.

Bessie just chuckled, her tail flicking lazily, her voice deep with amusement. “You were getting too comfortable in that chair, honey,” she said, her grip tightening just slightly around Doe’s legs as she shifted her weight. “Figured I’d remind you where you belong.”

Doe wriggled, slapping at Bessie’s back with both hands, her tail twitching in protest. “I can walk, you know! I have legs! And dignity!”

“Oh, I know,” Bessie replied casually, carrying her effortlessly through the dimly lit bar, her heavy hooves making loud thuds against the wooden floor. “But this is more fun for me.”

“You are impossible!” Doe huffed, her ears burning as she felt Bessie’s strong grip shift slightly, securing her more snugly. “At least hold me like a lady instead of a sack of grain!”

Bessie smirked, her voice smooth as she teased, “I would, but you keep kicking. You want me to drop you?”

Doe stilled immediately, her breath catching. “…No.”

“Didn’t think so.”

The familiar warmth of Bessie’s arms wrapped around her made Doe’s heart thud in her chest. By the time they reached the bedroom, she had stopped fighting completely. Her breath was quicker now, her hands resting lightly on Bessie’s back instead of pushing at her. Her body was betraying her—relaxing into Bessie’s embrace when all she wanted was to keep herself distant, protected.

But there was no denying it now. The tightness in her chest was loosening. And maybe—just maybe—she could let herself feel something real.

Bessie smirked to herself as she noticed the change. That’s more like it.

With one last exaggerated huff, she turned and dropped Doe onto the bed—gently, but with enough force to make the mattress bounce beneath her. Doe let out a breathless laugh; her face flushed, but her eyes held a softness now, no trace of the annoyance from earlier.

She looked up at Bessie, ears flicking in amusement. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Bessie leaned down, bracing her hands on either side of Doe’s, her voice a deep, satisfied purr. “Of course I am. I get to carry my pretty little doe off to bed. What’s not to love?”

Doe’s breath hitched as she looked up at Bessie, the teasing lightness flickering into something else, something warmer, more vulnerable. “…You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.” Bessie leaned in, her lips brushing Doe’s forehead in a quick, tender kiss. Her fingers ran through Doe’s hair, brushing it back from her face, and there was an unspoken promise in the quiet of the room.

The stillness felt like a reprieve. It was like the universe was holding its breath, waiting for Doe to let go of everything she’d carried for so long.

Doe’s heart pounded in her chest, the weight of her emotions pressing down, but it was lighter now. The rawness, the confusion—it wasn’t as suffocating in this space, with Bessie by her side, steady and certain.

Bessie cupped Doe’s cheeks, her touch soft and reassuring, her eyes never leaving Doe’s. “You’re safe here,” she whispered, voice thick with love. “You don’t have to hold anything back. Not from me.”

Doe blinked, her throat tightening. She didn’t know how to explain the gnawing emptiness inside her, the part of her that had spent so many years hiding, pretending she could handle it all alone. But something in Bessie’s gaze made her want to try.

“I don’t know how to… let go,” Doe whispered, the words fragile, like they might shatter on the air.

Bessie smiled gently, her thumb tracing the curve of Doe’s cheekbone. “I know. It’s not easy. But you’re not alone anymore, Doe.”

The air between them hung heavy with unspoken promises. Doe’s hands trembled slightly as she reached up, curling her fingers into the soft fur at Bessie’s chest, grounding herself in the feel of her. There was no rush now—no frantic desire to escape, no need to keep her walls high. It was just them, here, now.

Bessie leaned closer, her body pressing against Doe’s, the warmth of her a steady comfort against Doe’s chest. The moment felt sacred, the kind of moment Doe had spent her life running from, but now she found herself slowly embracing. She didn’t have to hide from Bessie. Not anymore.

“Just trust me,” Bessie whispered, her breath warm against Doe’s ear. “You don’t have to hide anything.”

Doe closed her eyes, her breath shaky. She felt Bessie’s steady hands guiding her, pulling her closer, as if telling her everything would be okay. And in that moment, Doe allowed herself to believe it.

“I trust you,” Doe whispered back, voice so soft it was almost lost in the quiet of the room. “I... I need this. I need you.”

Bessie’s heart swelled in her chest at the admission. She kissed Doe again, slow and sweet, as if each kiss was an unspoken affirmation of everything they were—everything they could be.

“I’ll show you what love, _true __love, _feels like,” Bessie murmured, pulling back slightly. Her eyes searched Doe’s, dark with promise.

For a moment, there was nothing but the gentle rise and fall of their breathing. The silence stretched between them, intimate and warm. And then, just as Doe thought she might fall into it all, something inside her stirred—a teasing memory from earlier, something she hadn’t forgotten.

A smile tugged at Doe’s lips as she found her voice again, a soft, playful tone emerging. “You’ve finally stopped bleating like a lost fawn?” she said, the teasing words slipping out before she could stop them.

Bessie raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning with a knowing glint in her eyes. “Now put that muzzle and tongue to use, huh?” she deadpanned, her voice both playful and filled with the same warmth that had settled between them.

Doe blinked in surprise, then a nervous laugh bubbled from her chest, breaking the tension that had built. The sound of it was pure relief, and it felt like all the weight of the last few weeks might finally be lifted.

“I can’t help it,” Bessie chuckled, reaching down to softly stroke Doe’s muzzle, her touch both tender and teasing. “Now… relax. It’s our time.”

And as they fell together, it wasn’t just the physical connection that mattered. It was the trust, the love that flowed between them—a love that had been waiting to break free. For the first time in a long while, Doe allowed herself to believe in something bigger than all the pain, all the heartache. With Bessie, maybe—just maybe—she could heal.

As the night drew to its close, the room was filled with quiet laughter and shared warmth, two hearts that had found each other in the most unlikely of places.

And through it all, in the silence that followed, Doe’s voice came again—soft, playful, and somehow full of peace: "I bet you moo when you—"

Bessie’s deep, satisfied moo cut through the air in response, a perfect echo of the drunken comment from before. Doe’s bleat rang out, louder now, and Bessie’s warm laugh joined her.

And with that, they both fell into the night; their love deepened, their bond unbreakable.

END