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>One step inside the bar, and you know you've been tricked.

>You had done a quick search of the local area for places to booze up, since you were out of it at the moment and needed something to clear your head a little. That or cancel out whatever you were on, if the whole thing this morning wasn't real.

>Though, you still do have the Kolibri in your pocket, that round loaded up.

>Considering the neighborhood you're in, you decided to carry the Tokarev as well. The bar you decided on-- the Pomewater-- was one of the few that was open this early on a Monday, and it had some pretty stellar reviews.

>But now, as the familiar smell of yeen-stank hits you full in the face, your eyes struggling to adjust, one of them in particular comes back to you.

>The seemingly unhinged five-star one about how the place's name referred to a part of a Shakespeare piece-- one about the futility of resisting the wiles of women.

>You can't recall if that bastard fox had the gumption to leave it under his own name, but you've got bigger things to worry about. Several bigger things, making all kinds of noises as they rush towards you.

>"You lost again, humie!" one of them cackles, another cooing as she grabs you by the arm and yanks you inside.

>"What you doin' all by yourself out here, huh?" she asks, the others surrounding you as she lets you go. The flashbacks to yesterday come quick-- though there are a few faces missing this time.

>"I-- I needed a drink," you say. "Now I might need two."

>One half of your audience aww's at your apparent romantic nature, while the other half laughs as they catch your true meaning-- and know there's not a thing you can do about it.

>"Aight, little man," one says, reaching for you, "I can--"

>"Back off!" another hyena says, shoving the other one, "I saw 'im first, I getta serve 'im!"

>"Sure, Shay, but I'm older den you, so I should--"

>"Nice try!"

>And so, an argument ensues as the six of them or so all try to lay claim to you, each one rebuking the next in an almost sisterly fashion. You try to sneak out, but they keep a tight perimeter around you despite their squabbles.

>That is, until a loud, terrifying rumble passes through the building.

>The fighting quickly stops, and the yeens part to reveal another walking towards your little group. The really really big one that likes spandex. Roxxi, you think her name was. When her gaze comes to rest on you, she smiles, a fang glinting as she saunters closer, looking down at you like a cut of meat.

>"Well, hello, humie," she rumbles, "You change your mind 'bout hanging wit us instead of that bitchy wolf?"

>"No, I--"

>"He's here for a drink, Rox."

>All heads turn to the little hyena that's saved your ass twice now-- or, will hopefully save it twice.

>"Fuck off, Jamie," Roxxi growls, "You ruined our fun yesterday. He's on our turf now."

>"Yeah, our business," Jamie says. She's gotta be at least four or five heads shorter than Roxxi-- about the same as you.

>Yet there's not a hint of fear as she looks up at her huge sister.

>"Let him through, and--"

>"Anon!"

>The group's attention, including yours, is now drawn to the yeen in the bandanna that just emerged from some back room, curly hair aflutter.

>"That's your name, 'Anon,'" she says, coming closer. She looks you up and down, the other hyenas seeming to just stare at her. She motions towards Roxxi and Jamie, who reluctantly walk with her back to the bar.

>Your initial welcome party is more than happy to seize the opportunity and reclose the circle around you, though this time they don't all gun for you at once. Their various salacious solicitations and touches drown out whatever it is that the Aunt Jemima cosplayer and the two leaders are talking about. Not that you can spare much attention anyway, your senses too busy being assaulted by various coos and jabs, by pawpads and plush curves, by various articles of clothing that imply a rather lax dress code, and by that all-encompassing yeen stench.

>You manage to survive long enough-- or the welcome wagon manages to keep itself in check long enough-- for Roxxi to let out another attention-getting grunt, this one not quite as terrifying.

>"Move," she tells the group, sauntering up to you once more.

>"You serious 'bout getting a drink, humie?" she asks, staring down with arms crossed.

>"Y-yeah," you answer, unsure if doing so is a good idea.

>"Why's that?"

>"Do I need a reason?"

>"No," she growls, "But if ya don't give me one, might just take you without a reason, you dig?"

>You do.

>"I-- some bad shit happened at the range yesterday, and this morning wasn't much better," you say.

>Best to leave the part about seeing some magician claiming to be Cupid out of it.

>"...So I was hoping for something to calm my nerves a bit. And I'm all out at home."

>The big yeen snorts, then turns her glare to her sisters.

>"Aight, listen up," she says, somewhat reluctantly, "Here's what we gon do: Rae, go get that kitchen timer an' bring it out here. Shay, go get your dice. Rest a you, follow me."

>The big one with the cutesy shirt and the one in a snapback break off with a little reluctance, while the rest heed Roxxi's word as he drags you to one of the booths.

>"What's the deal, Rox? Why we--"

>"Shut up," she snarls at her neon-haired sister, picking you up under the arm and sliding you into the seat. "Ya'll see in a minute."

>The other yeens-- save Jamie, who appears to have also snuck off-- complain and wait restlessly as Roxxi sits between you and them, bodily blocking the end of the booth. Her hand doesn't leave your shoulders, sneaking a few rough gropes at your skin and hair while you all wait for... something.

>It turns out to be two she sent off-- Rae and Shay. The former returns with the egg timer, and the latter with a small, cloth bag sporting a skull and crossbones.

>"Aight, all a you take a die and roll," Roxxi orders, "Higher's better."

>The group does as they're told, your (literal) bodyguard abstaining. Jamie is still nowhere to be found as the group tosses strange-looking dice, these ones round rather than square. They cackle at the low-rollers and growl at the high ones, a trio of them having to roll off since they all rolled the same number.

>Shay-- the one with the snap-back and rather loose shirt that got the dice-- is accused of cheating, since she rolled a 20, which sounds like the highest number you can get. After a few minutes of the growling and snapping, Roxxi slams her fist on the table with a snarl, making the dice jump as well as you.

>"It don't matter if she did-- jus mean he gonna forget her faster."

>"The fuck you talking bout?" the neon-haired one asks.

>"Name a the game, Kris," Roxxi says, wrapping a paw around the side of your head and pulling you close.

>"Since poor Anon here was lookin' fo some relaxation, we gonna show him what we got on offer," she explains-- as much as her haphazard embrace implies the opposite. "Each a ya gets 10 minutes to 'serve' 'im-- talk with him, comfort him, you know the deal."

>A few snickers and giggles tell you that they do indeed.

>"Now, Rae-- set the timer. Shay, you first."

>Roxxi gives your hair a final tussle as she slides out from the seat, the others reluctantly letting her through.

>"You get all that, Jamie?" Roxxi yells, and when the little hyena responds with an affirmative in a similar volume, she snorts.

>"Aight. Rest a you get to work."

>It's only when she snarls that they do, and only when they do does she stomp off, leaving Jamie to watch from the bar.

>Shay wastes no time getting started pressing up close to you with a low pitched hum.

>"Mmm, so you're a little stressed, huh?" she purrs, gliding her hands about your head as she holds you close, "Why don't you tell me how I can make you feel better... I've got a few ideas myself."

>It's with no small amount of shame that you feel something hard form in your pants, aside from the cold steel of the Tokarev.

>"H-how about that drink?" you ask, forced to look at her mischievous muzzle, "A--an Old Fashioned, perhaps?"

>"Jamie!" the hyena yells, turning away from you but keeping you in her clutches, "Old Fashioned!"

>The little yeen quickly delivers, subjecting you to only a few minutes of roaming hands and lips, and Shay's suggestive... suggestions before she slides a tumbler along the tabletop.

>"Let him drink, Shay," the little yeen says, and then with more bite, "Have some class."

>Your 'server' lets out a little huff but backs off, not completely on top of you. Though you're no less assaulted as she pulls at her top, ensuring that what little of it still covers her cleavage is taunt.

>"Well, Anon, I think you know exactly what I got to offer in terms of relaxin'. Why don't you offer up some ideas?"

>"How about we just talk?" you suggest, taking a long drink of your booze.

>The yeen complies, though she doesn't tell you all too much. She quickly drags out your life story-- went to college here in New Apple, work at the library, got your life turned upside down yesterday-- but offers very little of her own. All you really find out is that if you want some music or a movie with a digital five-finger discount, she's the person to ask.

>That and that she's very insistent that you could fit in her clothes with her, but she made that clear during her suggestions.

>The timer rings as she's telling you about her extensive and evergrowing library with a passion that almost makes you think she's not trying to come onto you.

>"Alright, my turn!"

>The next yeen wears her hair like Monroe, and seems to have appeared from thin air, "Let's go! Move it, Shay!"

>Your former server growls at her sister, pulling you in for one last kiss on the forehead before she relinquishes her spot for the much smaller anthro.

>"I'm Margo," your new server says, then eyes your drink.

>"I see you've got taste," she says with a smirk, "I think we'll get along quite well."

>You thank her, briefly looking over her-- her dress is vaguely reminiscent of the lady that inspired her doo, off-white and almost elegant.

>"You'll find I'm a bit more... refined than the rest of the staff here," she says, folding her hands in a way that almost makes it seem true, "So, I'll tell you now: if you want to take this somewhere more private, somewhere that I can make sure that you're relaxed, just say the word."

>The glint in her eye betrays the reserved face she's making-- but you can't help but be a little curious.

>"What might that involve?"

>She reaches over and grabs your hand as she she breaks into a smile.

>"You and I will get to know each other... intimately," she says, massaging your hand, "I'll put you right down where you should go, and guide you through exactly what you should do."

>Her eyes glaze a little, and you see her breathing speed up a little.

>"Submission is always so... exciting, for me, but relaxing for the people beneath me..."

>You pull your hand away, leaving her a little unhappy when the trance is broken.

>"How about we just talk instead? Get to know each other before... well..."

>Margo's expression brightens a little, and she chuckles.

>"My, you really are old-school..."

>You kill some time by giving her your life story, prompted by her asking what someone like you is doing in a neighborhood like Chutesville. When you ask the same of her, she sighs, and tells you that she was born here. Her love of movies is what inspired her to carry herself the way she does, admitting that some of the pre-anthro films humans made had great value.

>Its not hard to guess which ones she means.

>Margo appears to get a little uncomfortable, though, when you prod a little harder about her job; the fancy clothes she's got and the old movies she boasts about (physically) having couldn't have come cheap. Fortunately for her, the timer goes off, and she leaves somewhat eagerly, not giving you so much as a fleeting remark.

>"You got a way wit words," your next server chuckles, this one large again, curvy and two heads taller than you, "Didn't think I'd see the day one a us runs from a humie like that."

>Looking her over, you realize that she's the one that called out your name, knew it before you'd ever even said it.

>"How'd you know my name?" you ask, feeling a little tense.

>"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she says, studying you with purple eyes.

>"...Or maybe you would. I'm Aja."

>You wait for her to move in, to press up against you with her sultry-- if sizable-- form, but she doesn't, just staring at you silently with a small smirk on her face.

>"A-aren't you going to grope me, or something?" you ask, probably stupidly.

>"Not if ya don't want me to. There's somethin' much more important at stake than jus me watching you squirm for a few minutes-- though I wouldn't be opposed."

>"...huh..."

>"Besides, we're supposed to relax you, not excite you. Though I can see that damage has already been done."

>She giggles as you close your legs, unsure if she's talking about the Tokarev or if you did stir down there from her.

>"What if I told you I could try an help you wit your problems?" she says, pulling a leg up to better face you a she leans one arm on the table. "That help you relax a little?"

>"I suppose... So, at the range yesterday, I--"

>"No, no," she scolds, taking your hand in hers, "I mean your real problems. Lemme see here..."

>Her claws scrape along your palm as she turns it over, just light enough to break only the top layer of skin as she holds your hand firm.

>"Go ahead, drink," she says, somehow sensing your unease through closed eyes.

>You do, and she begins to mutter to herself as her thumbs trace the creases of your palm. Some are mere vocalizations, of acknowledgment or understanding, but a few you can decipher. '...Knew it...' is one, 'I see' is another.

>She laughs softly after a minute or two, opening her eyes, bringing yours back up to hers.

>"Go ahead, Anon-- you can touch 'em," she says, bringing your hand to her left breast, pressing it firmly into the soft, warm fabric.

>"I-I thought you said you were trying to relax me!" you splutter, pulling back.

>"Oh, I was," she says with a knowing smile, "Or I could. But we cin talk 'bout your problems without these nice, comfy pillows, if you prefer."

>She doesn't appear disappointed when you disagree.

>"Y-yeah, let's just keep it like this. What's my problem?"

>"You face severe trials," she says slowly, "but make no mistake-- one is much worse than the other."

>Ahh, you should have known from the black she wears and the little charms that adorn her neck and bracelets. Whatever mystical power she claims to have are just hot air.

>"That doesn't help very much," you say, but her face doesn't fall.

>"Can't tell you the answers ta your problems, nor which choices you should make," she says, leaning in close to you until her face is inches from yours.

>"You the one that has to decide," she says, the words slow and delivered with a devious smile.

>You don't move when she leans in even closer, her breath tickling your ear as she keeps you in place with a hand on the shoulder.

>"But... after you make your choice-- if ya choose right-- I'd be more than happy ta tell you everything..."

>Her lips brush your ear as she lets out a soft, teasing hum, and when you finally work up the nerve to respond, the timer goes off.

>"Time's up," she says, pulling away in an instant, "Choose wisely."

>The next yeen is already on deck, this one about the same height but quite a bit more toned.

>"I'm Kandra," she says with a smile... as she slides in on the other side of the booth. "Nice to meet you!"

>"Same here..." you say, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Oh, maybe it's footsies she wants to play?

>"Look, I know you ain't a fan a getting rough and personal-- yet-- so I solemnly swear I won't do any a it until you want to. Okay?"

>The look she's giving you is... serious.

>"Okay."

>"Great! Now, lemme tell you all about what we-- what I can offer ya!"

>The hyena goes into a list of popular drinks, bar snacks, and food that the place apparently serves. They don't have menus to make things feel 'personal'-- what they're putting you though isn't all that unusual, it seems.

>Aside from the pseudo-speed dating, that is. Normally whoever serves you to start is who you've got till you leave-- which is why there was such a fuss about who gets to serve the humie boy.

>"...But what I could do, if ya want, is a bit more personal that jus giving you food."

>Her tone doesn't hold the usual sensual tremor that you've become used to.

>"I'm pretty good at giving massages," she says, flexing her muscular hands for you. "I do a lotta calisthenics, if ya couldn't tell; you learn a thing or two 'bout what parts a you need stretching and get tense all th' time."

>So that's how she got so toned... But you're still waiting for the other shoe to drop. And a glance at the timer tells you that there's not much time left for it to do so.

>"Alright, so where's the catch?" you ask, "Do I have to get naked for you to see the muscles right or something?"

>She giggles at that, but shakes her head.

>"Not 'nless you want to, lil' man. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're the horny one here."

>You squirm a little in your seat-- that isn't true, not at all.

>"But really, you want to relax without getting groped-- or at least have it be nice and massaging-- jus let me know."

>The timer goes off again, and the next yeen is already next to you before Kandra can completely slide out from the other side of the booth.

>"Name's Kris," the newcomer says, about the same size as Kandra but overall less built, "But you kin call me 'mommy.'"

>She laughs at her own joke, slapping you on the opposite shoulder. You don't find it very funny-- in fact, you find the random neon streak in her hair more amusing.

>"So," she says, leaning down close to you, "We only got a little bit--- how 'bout you an' me go up ta the 'private rooms' an' see how quick we can--"

>Jamie lets out a strange, snarly-yip from behind the bar, making you realize she is indeed still back there. Kris glares back at her, muttering under her breath.

>"Fine, prude bitch say we can't relax my way, we won't," she half-shouts, turning back to you with an almost bored look. "So how'm I entertaining you for the next eight minutes?"

>"Could you maybe stop stroking my--"

>"Oh no, getting my fill of soft-humie touches is mandatory, twerp," she says, rubbing her paw over your face and chest with added vigor, "So how 'bout you tell me what we gonna do?"

>"I don't-- know," you say, holding in a few winces as her claws scrape on you, "What do you normally do that doesn't involve bringing someone to bed?"

>Kris snorts, looking down at you with a little amusement.

>"Big words for someone that's only jus met me, humie boy. How 'bout I tell you who the real sluts are around here?"

>"F-fine."

>The yeen throws you for a little loop, her embrace on you loosening somewhat as she tells you that it's not any of them that are sluts, but the raccoons and possums that frequent the neighborhood.

>You're not sure how much of it is true, and how much of it is because her coworker's ears are pricked as she speaks.

>She tells you about how the raccoons around here live fast and loose, seeing no problem with spending a night with some John they met at the club-- and then get nasty when the consequences hit them full in the face. The possums for their part are always on the lookout for a new baby daddy, but all too often drive any serious ones away with the swarms of kids they raise-- usually from multiple fathers.

>Between the way she's massaging your head and the way she talks, you almost feel like you're at a hair salon-- and then the neon stripe in her hair makes a little more sense.

>Kris is halfway through the story of a particularly easy raccoon when the timer again blares.

>"Well, humie, that wasn't half bad," she says, slapping your shoulder again, "And by the way you cuddled up ta me, I'd say you didn't mind it, neither!"

>You realize that you indeed had drawn close to her, and quickly pull away as she laughs at you.

>"I'll see you around, sweetie," she says, giving up her spot.

>The next hyena is tall and lanky, quite the departure from her sisters.

>"I'm Sammi," she says, seeming to study you with something other than lust, "I've been eavesdropping on your conversations with the other girls, and I think I know what you need."

>"What would that be?"

>"Something that I can't give to you in ten minutes, unfortunately," she sighs. "But afterwards, when you've gone through the whole song and dance that they're making us go through?"

>She leans in, not grabbing you like the others but still looming over you nonetheless.

>"I'll take you on a tour of the finest body this place has to offer," she whispers into your ear.

>"We can peel off these tights, and these gloves," she says, snapping the fabric on one arm for effect, "And you can start there, with the paws. And then we'll work our way in, along all this nice, short fur, taking little whiffs along the way."

>She drags a finger under your nose; you stay tense, but don't shy away.

>"And maybe, if you're good enough, we can take a look at the main course."

>Sammi watches your eyes as she gestures to her thin frame, still bigger than yours purely from her height.

>"That sound... agreeable to you?" she asks, pulling away, "A nice, relaxing tour?"

>"N-no, thanks."

>In an instant, the semi-sensual veneer is gone, and the lanky hyena heaves out a sigh. She mutters something about 'as per usual,' then calls out to Jamie.

>"Jamie, can you throw me a bull?"

>The little yeen tosses a blue-silver can to her sister, who promptly cracks it open and takes a drink. It's not beer, but rather an energy drink-- curious that they'd have a store behind the bar.

>Looking at those tights and gloves she mentioned, you begin to put two and two together.

>"You're not usually out here, are you?" you ask her. She turns to you with slight surprise, and nods.

>"I'm backend most of the time, yeah. It show that bad?"

>You shrug.

>"Your clothes seem pretty clean-- you do the accounting or something?"

>She laughs in that way her species is known for, a few of her sisters chiming in.

>"No, I handle our... online operations."

>"What are those, exactly?"

>"I'll show you," Sammi says, pulling out a laptop-looking thing that's just a little larger than her (admittedly large) palm.

>She proceeds to pull up the bar's website, urging you to do the same on your phone; what you find is much more impressive than you'd expected for a place like this, not just some cookie-cutter make-your-own-website derivative.

>Aside from the standard contact info, map location, and slightly doctored shots of the inside and out, Sammi shows you the different 'server profiles' for each of them, complete with little bios. What pops out to you, though, are the schedules.

>The vague-but-specific wording in the bios confirms your thoughts that the salacious offerings from each of your 'servers' so far isn't just a personal thing, but part of the business.

>She's just getting to the way that she set all the links up to reduce load time when the timer goes off, and you're a little disappointed to see the passion drain from her face once more.

>"Okay, show's over, lemme take a whack at 'im," the next one says, this one just as big as Sammi but about four times as buff.

>The lanky yeen quickly surrenders her spot next to you, her muscle-bound sister quickly taking her spot.

>"Here's the deal, little dude," she says, putting a bulging arm around you, "I wanna fuck you, you look like fun. But--"

>Jamie makes that barking-yip noise again from the counter, and your new companion makes one back at her.

>"--Like I was sayin', I can't. Not yet, anyway."

>Her paw runs over your hair briefly, before feeling your chest and upper arms in a way that doesn't quite feel sexual, the grabbing of your belly sealing the deal.

>"You got a little meat on there, but that's okay," she says, "we can't all be built like me."

>Your unnamed waitress steps out of the booth for a minute to show you exactly what she means, and you're sure now that her tanktop is small on purpose... probably just like everyone else's clothes here.

>"Ahh, shit, I totally forgot," she says, sliding back into the booth, "Name's Vivi. So, you like what you see?"

>"I-I guess?" you say, the eyes of the towering yeen making you choose your words carefully.

>"Enough that you'd wanna see me break their little rules?" she asks, not a hint of secrecy in her voice.

>"Probably not," you say, and she huffs.

>"Fine then. Jamie, beer me!"

>The little yeen again tosses a can from behind the bar, and your server catches it with ease.

>"You want one?" she asks, cracking hers open.

>You nod, and she gets you one from Jamie.

>"So, what's it like working in that library?" she asks, "I heard your little life story from th' other girls, but you seemed awful skimpy on that part."

>Your job is somewhat boring, and you tell her as much-- but she doesn't seem to mind. You go through the various duties you have, from patron assistance to all the sorting and restocking you do in the back, and Vivi listens while taking sips of her beer.

>You try yours, glad they gave it to you sealed: it's okay, light and smooth.

>Vivi starts talking about her job a little; it appears that in addition to their 'service' rolls, most of the girls here do something else as well. Jamie's the bartender, Sammi does the website, and Vivi is one of the bouncers.

>"...and when we do our after-hours work, I usually--"

>The timer rings, and you see Jamie standing there with it in her hands, giving her sister a severe look.

>"Time's up, V," she says, "Come on, get out."

>As your musclebound companion complains about how Jamie clearly shortened her time, you're focused on Jamie's expression.

>Vivi was clearly about to say something that she didn't want her to say. Whatever it was would likely be beyond the prostitution racket the yeens have going, since it's been all but shoved in your face.

>You're left to wonder what exactly their 'after-hours' work entails as Vivi relents, giving up her seat.

>"I'll go and get your next server," Jamie says, expression still severe.

>You watch her walk Vivi through a door to the back, all but dragging her by the ear. She doesn't return for a few minutes, but when she does, it's with a yeen at least three times her size. You recognize her from the picture on the website, and the cutesy shirt she has on, she's--

>"I'm Rae, sweetie," she says excitedly, squeezing into the booth beside you, "Saved the best for last!"

>She sets down a plate of nachos before grabbing you bodily, pulling you into her lap.

>"The other girls take care a you, hon?" she asks, stroking your hair as you sink into her like a plush recliner. A rather comfortable one, you note.

>"I guess," you sigh, feeling your eyes close.

>"Aww, ya don't sound better," she coos, shifting you deeper into her embrace, "Why don't you tell mama wha's wrong?"

>Maybe it's the booze hitting you, the weariness from the last hour or two, or the fact that this is only the second most ridiculous thing to happen to you today--

>--or maybe it's because Rae really is that soft and comforting--

>But you give in, relaxing into her as you tell her everything.

>About the stuff that went down at the range, about the way it could ruin your future. About the fact that Patricia has been hounding you and Talia ever since you were together, and that the two of you aren't ready for that yet, as much as you'd like to be.

>You realize as you say it that you're not lying.

>"...And it's gotten to the point that I think I hallucinated this morning."

>"Poor baby," she whispers, stroking your head, hugging you closer. Only now do you realize that you turned around and curled up in her embrace, your face pressed into the worn fabric of her 'Nyachos' shirt.

>You try to pull away, but she tuts and holds the back of your head, pressing your face deeper into her huge, bulging breast.

>"Just hold onto mama," she whispers, grinding your face in a little, "I'll make everything bet--"

>The damned timer goes off again.

>Rae lets out a groan, squeezing you to her like a stuffed toy.

>"But I was so close!" you hear her say, your face plastered against the chibi cat on her chest.

>"Too bad," a familiar voice says, "Time's up. If he wants you, he'll ask."

>With great reluctance, Rae lets you pull back from her chest with a gasp, and you find you want to stick your face right back in. If only because her shirt smells more like fried food than everything else does of yeen musk.

>'Pick me,' she mouths as she squeezes back out from the booth, leaving you with Jamie standing at the edge of the table.

>"Okay, Anon. You've had a look at what we--"

>She snarls at someone you can't see, and jumps back as another familiar form fills your vision.

>"Fuck off, Roxxi!"

>"No, you fuck off," the massive hyena growls, "He ain't seen everything we got to offer yet."

>As Rox looks down at you with a predatory smile, Jamie looks up at her with contempt.

>"If you're serious about taking lead," she says, her voice low, "this isn't how you--"

>Roxxi shoves bodily past her into the booth, scooping you up.

>"You do things your way, Jamie," she growls, the vibrations spreading along your back as she hugs you to her chest, "And I do 'em mine."

>Keeping you in place with one hand, Roxxi reaches over and twists the little egg timer, setting it to 10 minutes.

>"There. See? Same as everyone else. Now fuck off and let me do my job."

>Jamie looks between her sister and you for a moment, clenching her fists, but ultimately she walks away.

>You feel Roxxi relax under you slightly, and she shifts so that she's laying in the booth and you're laying atop her, the back of your head supported by her spandex-bound pillows.

>"Finally," she mutters, a heavy paw resting on your chest, "Now we can get ta business, Anon. I saw you curled up in Rae's arms. You like what I'm doing for you here?"

>You gulp-- Rae wasn't quite as big as the behemoth bitch that's currently your bed, but she was softer.

>"I- I guess?"

>"Guessing ain't enough," she says, her other hand reaching down; your body stiffens as you feel her envelop your whole crotch with her palm, her thumb scraping the bottom of your belly and her fingers poking your butt.

>"Mmm," she chuckles, your head bouncing along with her chest, "Either you got two dicks, or--"

>She plucks out your Tokarev, holding it up for the two of you to see. It looks like a tiny pocket-pistol in her paws.

>"Such a bad boy," she scolds, setting the gun on the table, "Loose humies can't be walking around with pistols, Anon, you know that."

>You don't say anything as she pulls you up her body a bit, the yeeny smell intensifying as you feel her snout on the back of your head, her exhales coating your neck before her snout slides next to an ear.

>"Let's make a deal, humie boy," she whispers, her free hand going to the other side of your head now, "You don't say nothin' about our 'extra services,' maybe partake in them a bit, and we won't say none 'bout you packing some extra heat."

>"W-What extra services?"

>"Good boy," she chuckles-- but doesn't let you go.

>"Here's what I can do for you Anon..." she goes on, a slight tenor to her voice as that free hand slips back to your pants-- and finds that you're still indeed packing.

>"I can hold you like this, like Rae did, and let you and all your troubles slip away."

>Your breath catches as you begin to pant, and Roxxi chuckles beneath you.

>"You like that one, huh?"

>"Y-yeah--"

>"That's too bad," she whispers.

>The hand on your dick clamps down around your crotch again, and she pulls you down along her until your head once again rests deep between her breasts, a distinct warmth rubbing against your lower back as she crosses one leg over yours.

>"That's not so much fun fo me," she says, rubbing you with her thumb, feeling you squirm, "I wanna do something, not just get used like a pillow. So here's my idea."

>She stops her teasing, putting on the pressure until you freeze up with a gasp.

>"I make you submit. I make you so tired out that there ain't nothing else you can do. And then, you'll be too tired to do anythin' but relax."

>She starts up again, letting out a pleasured hum as you squirm anew in her grasp.

>"N-no," you manage to gasp out, and you feel her rumble all along your back.

>"I-I like the other one--"

>Her snort ruffles your hair, and her thumb presses harder on your groin, her hips pushing harder against your back.

>"Well, that's too bad... guess I'll have to try an' convince you, then."

>You quickly lose track of time as she continues her assault, ignoring your attempts to try and pry her hands away. All you can do then is stifle your groans-- and she laughs at your failures to do so.

>Over time, though, you feel her grip becoming weaker, her responses becoming softer. Her breaths becoming deeper as her breasts swell up around your head.

>Her teasing slows, until it comes to a stop, her hand simply resting on your groin as she holds you under the arms to her chest, like a stuffed animal.

>You wait for some snide remark, some threat, for her to ask if you've given in-- but it doesn't come.

>Instead, you chance a little twisting in her grip-- and look up to see that her eyes are closed, a faint smile on her lips as she breathes slowly.

>Almost contentedl--

>RIIING

>You're nearly thrown over the table as Roxxi jumps, her grip on your form loose enough that you partially fall off of her. When she does regain a hold of you, squeezing you face-first back into her curves, she pants for a second before letting out a long, groaning 'Fuuuuck....'

>"Get your ass in the back, Rox," Jamie says, though you can't see her, "You got what you wanted, now get."

>You can feel her growl back as she gets up, keeping your face pressed in her spandex for a few seconds until she lets you drop to the floor. Jamie catches you as you stumble backwards, just happy you didn't bust your ankles.

>"Fucking prick," the big yeen mutters, stomping off to the back.

>Jamie says nothing, just guiding you back to the booth as you pant slightly, sitting across from you. When you regain yourself, she's picked up your gun, looking at it.

>"I assume for the trip here?"

>"Yeah," you say, "Ain't exactly a safe place."

>She nods, setting it back down on the table.

>"What Roxxi said still holds," the little yeen tells you, doing nothing as you reach for the piece and struggle to get it back in your holster, "You don't snitch on us, we won't snitch on you."

>"Sure, yeah-- wait, you were sitting there watching the whole time? While she was doing that to me?"

>The little yeen sighs, giving you a stern look.

>"What'd you want me to do about it? Beat up the chick that's three times bigger than both of us?"

>"You could've told her to stop..."

>"She and I don't get along the best, if you couldn't tell," Jamie says, "but that's all beside the point. You want another drink, or do you want one of the girls?"

>Her sisters were all fairly blunt, but the bluntness from the little yeen was somewhat refreshing.

>"I want to go home."

>"Fine," she sighs, closing her eyes. She opens her mouth, but stops herself.

>"Look, there's a little more to us than booze and boobs," she finally says, looking up at you.

>She pulls out a card and slides it over, the logo from the front featured prominently.

>"If you need help, and you can stand my sisters, just-- consider us, alright?"

>You study the card, then her.

>You know they're running an escort service, that's for sure.

>You know they might also be running a piracy service, too.

>But the way she phrased that last bit makes you think that there's something else afoot. Something big.

>Something that could help you win the court case.

>"You have connections with the State?"

>The little hyena evidently is not a fan of her bluntness being thrown back against her.

>"That's not--"

>"Jamie."

>The new voice is deep and unfamiliar. Both of you look up, and see an enormous yeen standing there.

>She's bigger than even Roxxi, making you realize why the ceilings are extra-extra high.

>The dark dress she's wearing is covered by her voluminous, dark red hair at the top, though not enough to completely cover the sizable curve of her bust.

>"B," Jamie says, the respect in her voice something you're not used to.

>"Go on," B says, gesturing for Jamie to leave, "I'll handle it from here."

>The little hyena gets up with a nod, clearing the room as her boss pulls up one of the reinforced chairs and turns it around, sitting at the edge of your table, taking up its whole width. When she settles, she looks at you and sighs.

>"That goes for the rest of you, too!" she says loudly.

>You hear faint whispers and footfalls, your apparent eavesdroppers making a quick retreat.

>"So," she says, tone business-like, "Any interest in our services?"

>"No thanks... I came here for a drink, and that's about it."

>"Well, you have our card if you change your mind," she says, steepling her hands and staring down at you.

>"That wasn't why I came out to talk with you, of course. I'm here to give you an offer."

>She pauses, waiting for a reaction-- but you don't give her one, letting her continue.

>"You seem bright; we do more than serve food and fine times. We can help you relax, but more than that, we can offer peace of mind."

>"What do you mean?"

>"Your court case. I don't know the specifics, but... well, we have our ways."

>You study her face, finding few hints of emotion there.

>"What will it cost me?"

>The hyena smirks.

>"I'll think of something."

>She stands up, pulling the chair away.

>"Now, if you're not drinking or fucking, get going. I don't need you distracting my girls any more than you already have."

>It takes only moments for you to scurry out from the booth and out the door, giving her a half-mumbled 'goodbye.'

>As you walk back, you find yourself even more incredulous than you did this morning.

>Not only is there a crime syndicate of some kind being run out of a bar a few blocks away from your place, but the people running it are the same ones that harassed you at the range yesterday.

>And not only that, but their boss also let you in on the fact that it's happening, and offered their services to you.

>When you reach your apartment, you take out the Kolibri and look at the rose-tinted bullet.

>You're starting to believe you might not be crazy-- but there's still one important question:

>Which yeen are you supposed to shoot if you do choose them?