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[b][u][center]Human Addiction

Chapter 4: Awkward Fun

Sponsored by Taiko

By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

Regardless of anything else, Roger decided that the first thing that he needed to do was get some condoms. With everything else going on, he imagined that it would be a good idea to have a set, just in case he ended up with a situation running out of control again. And considering that there was an escort agency…

[i]God, why am I even considering this?[/i] he thought as he counted out the four 10 AD notes that he had. [i]I mean, seriously, I wouldn’t buy a prostitute at home. My hand’s as good as I need, dammit.[/i]

Except that here, it seemed that it was not just legal, but very much…encouraged, at least from what the note said. Maybe there was some exaggeration for his sake, being the resettlement project that he was, but he doubted that it was much. They didn’t want to screw themselves over for the future by making it sound too good for one person and then not be able to keep up that quality for everyone else.

He looked down at the binder again, his cheeks burning as he imagined calling one of them. If he did, would they be like the cheetahs? That would be…

He shivered, remembering how they had been all over him, how they were willing to do anything that he wanted, and how they just kept wanting his dick. Even the pair that had seemed to be together had been more focused on his cock than each other, grinding their faces into it and everything.

Just the thought was getting his dick to start rising again, and he glared down at his jeans.

“You just fucking stop. You had a goddamn orgy last night, and you don’t need more right now.”

His cock gave a stubborn throb in return, and he grumbled under his breath, pushing his door open and heading out.

The hallway was a bit musty, he noticed, but nothing uncomfortable. Just a bit of that old smell that he had almost forgotten in the more modern buildings back on the human side of the wall. He looked at the doors as he passed, saw that most of them had polished numbers, though some were a bit loose, hanging down rather than staying up. He imagined that Ms. Watford probably had a hell of a time keeping up with all the work that needed doing around here, particularly if she had to do it all by herself.

Considering how fit the woman looked, he imagined that the mare could do it. She had the muscles for it, and despite those curves, she had not an ounce of paunch on her body. She probably had more muscle than he did, when you got right down to it.

She popped up in his mind again, the mare’s tan and brown body showing off everything. Those big breasts, those wide hips, probably with a –

He slapped himself, shaking his head as he reached the elevator.

“You are not a fucking teenager anymore,” he said, a bit more harshly than he’d normally talk to himself, but he needed to snap out of this. “You’re the one in charge. Not your dick. Act like it.”

He pressed the button and waited. The elevator came quickly, for a change, and he stepped inside, heading down. The musty smell worked to slowly diminish his erection, and he was thankful for it.

As soon as it opened, he kept his head down, hearing Ms. Watford greet him as he walked through. Giving a slight nod and a ‘ma’am’ as he passed by, he quickly left the building and stepped out on the sidewalk. The cars on the street kept driving by, though there were a few that slowed down as the driver leaned to the side and stared, their mouths hanging open.

[i]You’d think that with so many different species…[/i]

Then again, humans went absolutely out of their mind when they found a new species that looked nothing like anything else, so why wouldn’t Anthros?

Shaking his head, he remembered the direction to the corner store. Around the corner, up the block, two blocks up. He started walking, trying not to be too self-conscious of the stares that he kept getting from the cars as they went by.

It didn’t take long to get there, and he didn’t run into any pedestrians, either. The door opened with the usual ding-a-ling sound of a bell on the door, and the clerk, a dolphin woman, looked up. Her bored expression shifted almost immediately, and she stood up a bit straighter in her white and green uniform and apron.

“Wow. Didn’t expect to see a human already,” she said with a chuckle. “When did you get here?”

“About, uh, yesterday?” He shrugged. “Just need to pick up a few things, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, sure. Take your time.” She cocked her head to the side as he walked down one of the aisles, and he could feel her staring at him.

It was all the more embarrassing to feel someone staring at him while he was trying to shop, and he was starting to see what other people felt like when they were followed around stores. Sure, his was more positive attention than the negative stuff, but there was still this intense feeling of being watched, of being observed. Stalked. Almost like he was being hunted, in a way.

[i]Jesus…[/i]

He shook his head, walking around the far corner of the aisle. Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see her staring at him, see the way that she was leaning over the counter to watch him. It wasn’t quite at the level of the cheetah that had been begging for head-pets just yet, but she was definitely fascinated in a way that he was just flat-out not used to seeing.

More self-conscious than ever, he forced himself to pick up a twelve-pack of condoms. They looked like the right sort, though he imagined that there’d be some playing with them, as ever. They did claim to be multi-species, however. First time that he had ever read something like that.

Shaking his head, he walked over to another aisle, hoping to buy a couple of snacks to at least offset the weirdness of coming in for condoms, but with the dolphin girl still staring at him, it was hard to feel any sort of comfort. Giving in to the inevitable, he sighed, walking back up to the counter and the hot food stand beside the register.

As he laid the box of condoms down, the dolphin looked at it and then at him. She blushed.

“So, uh…got a hot date, then?” she asked, the line sounding almost a little canned as she scanned it.

“Um, not really, just…you know. In case.”

“I heard that humans…”

“Yeah?”

“Uh, never mind. Just realized how, uh, rude that sounded.”

“How we’re, um…more active?”

“Oh, thank you for saying it,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “Sorry, I just…we only have stories of you guys, and we don’t know what the hell is real and what isn’t. All we know is the sex stuff and that you guys could do literally any kind of job.”

“…You can’t?”

“Well, no. Some of us are better for some jobs than others. We diversify a lot by species outside of the office.”

“Huh. Wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Well, you know. Smaller species for jobs in tight spaces, stronger species for labor, you know how it goes.”

Like a far more diversified version of what people did on his side of the wall, where certain jobs required certain physical attributes. Out here, you could find that with a lot of species, so he imagined that hiring would actually be easier. And they managed to keep that from getting into the office work space? Why did he find that next to impossible to believe? He imagined that was probably the most cramped hiring office of all, what with all the people excluded from other jobs being funneled down to that one.

He shook his head. No, no, that was being mean. He needed to wait and see. No judgment yet…

At least, as much as he could.

Despite their almost-normal conversation, the dolphin was still thrusting her chest forward a bit more than he imagined she usually did, her small, gray, smooth breasts almost in view with her less than modest shirt beneath the apron. He blushed, rubbing the back of his head as his cock twitched.

“So, is that all?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“Is that everything for you?”

“Uh, actually, could I get a hot dog and a few…” He paused. “Actually, what’s in the hot dogs and the thing that looks like chicken wings?”

“The sausage is made of some sort of spiced quikmeat – some kind of veggie fake meat, but it’s pretty good, honestly. And the wings are…You know what, you’re the first person that actually asked,” she admitted with a chuckle. “I honestly don’t know, but I’ve seen chickens eat them, so I guess you’re safe.”

“I’m guessing meat eating is a bit dodgy out here?”

“Not really, but it’s cheaper to get the fake stuff than the real stuff, so, you know. Economics.”

“Heh…I guess so. So, uh, can I get one of the hot dogs?”

“Of course, no problem. Just want it to go, or with a show?”

He blinked.

“…What’s a show?”

“Oh, uh, just something that I’ve been thinking of for a while; you’d be the first customer to see it. You mind?”

“Um, sure. Okay.”

He had a horrible feeling of where this was going, and was really, really, [i]really[/i] hoping that he was wrong. He hadn’t even paid for the condoms yet, and if this started going off the rails –

She was already moving, though. She had pulled out not two, but three plastic gloves, and he arched an eyebrow as he watched her sliding them on. The first two went on just as they were supposed to, but the third –

Thwip. It slid down the hotdog like a condom all its own, and she tucked the wrapped food in between her breasts, pressing her arms forward so that they pressed tightly around the fake meat. It was impossible to see it as anything other than a dick between her tits, and he blushed as his own throbbed that much harder.

“Now, you like any sauce for this big old wiener?”

“Uh…mustard…”

Words. Words were hard right now, and his cheeks burned as he watched the dolphin put on a show, swish-swishing her way over to the condiment bar. She lowered her head, her beak parting just enough to ‘suck’ on the glove-covered end of the hot dog, almost like she was fellating it between her breasts, and it only got worse as she pulled her head back and flipped it over, making it fall exposed-side up between her breasts. She took the mustard, flipped it over, and sprayed it a bit against her chest, some going into the glove, some on her. She giggled.

“Looks like we made a mess. Looks like we’ll have to sop that up.”

She was so smooth, so shiny, that Roger didn’t even think about any sort of contamination when she turned the hot dog around, slapping it against her breasts a few times. It was a clunky, ridiculous show, but she was putting such effort into her own sensuality it was hard not to be turned on a little bit.

She slathered his hot dog in the mustard just enough for edibility, and made it look like it was a dick swiping cum off of a pair of tits all at the same time. Then, again, she turned it around and sucked on the other end, even going so far as to moan, before squeezing it out of the glove and into a bun.

It was right at the end that she showed any sort of self-consciousness about the whole thing, and she rubbed the back of her head with a shy chuckle as she brought him the dog.

“So, uh…how was that?”

“…It was something.”

“Something bad?”

“Uh, no, no,” he said, hurrying to clear that up when her face dropped. “More, uh…”

Oh, god, what the hell was he supposed to say to that? She had all but made it clear that she was trying to seduce him, and now she was showing off her breasts, still coated in mustard, a hot dog that she had been all but fellating, and now she was asking him if it was a good show? Was he supposed to be anything more than turned on? The whole thing was weird, made weirder by how hard she was trying, and yet, he didn’t want to make her feel bad.

Roger looked down at the box of food, nudging it towards the cash register in a desperate attempt to try and get more time. She started scanning it, still looking at him, a bit concerned, a bit sad.

[i]God…[/i]

She wanted him to say it was good so bad. He could see that. But it really wasn’t. It was sloppy, it was messy, and it was weird. The only reason he was turned on was because she was trying so hard and showing off so much. He groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“Look. I know you’re trying to show off right now, but it’s not really working. Maybe, you know, just…be you?”

“But…but…”

“Is this usual for you?”

“Well, no…”

“Ever done that for anyone else?”

“…No.”

“It’s a thing for the humans, right? Wanting to put on a show?”

“I didn’t know where it came from. It just…I just wanted to show off, all of a sudden. Wanted to – oh.”

She smiled, grinning widely, and he saw her hands going for the buttons of her clothes. His eyes went wide, and he grabbed her wrists just before she could start undoing one of the buttons for her blouse.

“Uh, how about I pay for my food and I go?”

“Oh…”

“You don’t want to risk your job for a human, do you?”

“…I probably shouldn’t.”

“Yeah. Besides, think about it this way. You can think about different shows, and whether you really want to do them. And if you do, you can practice for next time I come here.”

[i]…Say what, dickbrain?[/i] he thought at himself, but his mouth was already running away with him.

“You want to make sure that a show for a human is the best one you’ve ever done, right? Kinda like those dolphins in the zoos all that time ago, the way that they worked so hard? You want to do even better than them, don’t you?”

“Yeah!” She grinned. “And that means I gotta practice. You’re right. Sorry. I shouldn’t have given you something like a…a rough draft.”

“Yeah. So, you go practice, and you can show me when you feel good about it.”

“Thank you! Oh, god, I would have made such a fool of myself. Here. Take a little discount for your trouble.”

And that was how he walked out of the corner store, having paid no more than five Anthro Dollars for the condoms and the hot dog. He paused out on the sidewalk, looked back at the pretty dolphin girl rubbing mustard off her breasts behind the counter, and then looked down at his crotch.

“You don’t get to do that anymore.”

Shaking his head, Roger made his way back to the apartment. He unpacked the box of condoms, putting the roll of them in his pocket, and he started munching on the hot dog. For all that it had gone through to get on the bun, it was actually pretty tasty. He had been a little bit concerned about that.

He finished it by the time he got back to the lobby, and he forgot to turn his head to the ground. As a result, as soon as he walked through the front doors, he had a perfect view of Ms. Watford, her back to him, bent over looking through files, and –

[i]And that…is an ass…[/i]

He stared at the horse’s rump from behind, watching her tail swishing from time to time, flicking under the skirt. Every so often, it would flick just a bit too high, and he’d see her legs going all the way up to her panties. She had thick legs, powerful ones, strong, and he could see that they went to a big, rounded ass that he was sure was even more muscular than the cheetahs from the night before.

[i]Hooooly…[/i]

And talk about a camel toe. Her underwear was pulled right in between her legs, showing the fleshy lips of a horse pussy, making it all too visible. There was a hit of darkness down there, too, where her juices dripped free, where she had gotten turned on earlier and hadn’t had a chance to change. He could just make out her asshole through it, too, seeing how it pushed out a bit more animalistically than the cheetahs had done.

Despite that, he was no less turned on. If anything, it somehow turned him on more, particularly as it clenched and puckered.

His cock was hard as could be, and he had to remind himself that she was both a married woman and his landlord. God, fucking, dammit.

Pushing his cock around so that it wasn’t making quite so obvious a bulge, he walked up to the desk, clearing his throat as he did. Ms. Watford jumped, the mare’s mane flipping from one side of her neck to the other in shock, and she whipped her head around. Her breasts nearly turned her 180 into a 360, and she had to grab the desk to stop her own momentum.

“Mr. Harding. I’m sorry; I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Uh, yeah. I was just getting some stuff from the corner store. You okay?”

“Just sorting through some files and work orders,” she said, nodding at the papers on the counter. “Only so much you can do, you know?”

“Well, um, if you need a hand with some of the smaller jobs, I can see what I can do.”

“You have experience in repair work?” she asked, blinking.

“Not enough to fix anything complicated, but I can patch holes in the wall, paint, fix some of the smaller things. I’d like to do something useful, if I can, instead of just, you know, doing nothing. At least until I find a job.”

“If you can take some of this work off my hands, I’ll knock part of your rent off. Hell, I’ll pay you if you can do enough of it.”

“That’s a deal I can get behind.” [i]And I could get behind, you, too, if you weren’t – stop it![/i] “By the way, when do I get to meet Mr. Watford?”

“Oh, you read the note?” she asked, her face a bizarre mix of disappointment and relief. “It wasn’t, um, overstepping anything, I hope.”

“No, no, just, um…wanted to make sure that your husband didn’t disapprove of you setting a guest up with…you know…”

“Mr. Watford is a very open-minded individual, I can assure you, and he certainly understands the needs of the tenants. When he’s around, he’s quite willing to throw in and help, but…”

He cocked his head to the side, but the mare seemed unwilling to go further down that particular road. She cleared her throat, looking down at the papers, and threw her hands up in the air.

“Agh! We’ll have to continue this another time. If I don’t get these sorted today, then I’m going to be even further behind tomorrow, and that’s just not acceptable. We’ll talk about this when you’re free tomorrow, okay?”

“Um, sure, Ms. Watford.”

She nodded, going back to work, leaning over the desk again, and this time he had another great view of her, this time in profile. He clenched his teeth to keep the slight groan inside, and hurried to the elevator.

Upon return to his apartment, he flopped out on the couch, leaning his head against the top of it. He rubbed his hands along his face, shaking his head.

[i]There should not be this many temptations in any man’s life,[/i] he thought, staring through his fingers at the ceiling. [i]I should not be able to just get people interested, and I really, really, REALLY should not be listening to my dick this much…[/i]

Though at least he had managed to keep from giving in when he was downstairs. He swore that if he had pushed even a little, mentioned something about Ms. Watford’s mane, perhaps, she would have been keen for him to start touching her. And after that…well, it would have been simple enough to go further. To test out whether she liked human cock more than she liked her husband’s.

His boner would not leave him alone, and he glared at it. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was not going to go down anytime soon. He was going to be tempted all night long, and after that orgy with the cheetahs, Roger had to admit that his hand was not going to cut it for relief.

Short of calling the whole troop back – something that he wondered if he could do, actually – he needed to go with the escort book. And there had been something on the card about the first one being free.

After a few more moments of hesitation, he pulled the card out and dialed the number. Someone picked up on the other end only a few rings in.

“[i]Exotic Escorts of Personal Preference, Paul speaking. How many I help you?[/i]”

“Hi, um. I’m a first-time caller, but I’ve been referred to you by a Ms. Watford.”

“[i]Ah, yes. She was in the market for someone recently. Are you, perchance, the new human that has moved to the city?[/i]”

“I am, yes. Um…I see that there’s a bit of…a bit of a menu here…”

“[i]Yes, those are our preeminent workers that have volunteered for you, sir. Do you have a preference among them, or do they not meet your tastes?[/i]”

“God…”

“[i]Is this your first time, sir?[/i]”

“Kinda? All this stuff is illegal on the other side of the wall.”

“[i]Sex work is…illegal?[/i]”

He could tell how weird that sounded to the man on the other end, and with how matter of fact this was going, he couldn’t entirely blame him. This was going no different to scheduling an appointment for a cleaner or something equally professional. Roger took a deep breath, flicking through the pictures.

“Yes, it is, so…excuse me if I’m a bit nervous.”

“[i]You have no reason to be nervous, sir. All of our employees are purely professional. If it helps, you can tell me what you’re looking for, and I can give you a personal recommendation of which of our employees might fit the bill.[/i]”

“Yeah, um…I don’t think I have that sort of confidence right now, heh. I’ll take my chances.”

“[i]As you will, sir. Would you prefer a man or woman tonight?[/i]”

“…Man. I’ll…” He blushed, looking at the dark-furred, smirking stallion in the binder. “I’ll go with the stallion.”

“[i]Midnight Grace. An excellent choice.[/i]”

“I’m guessing that’s a stage name?”

“[i]All of our employees operate by stage name, sir. If they wish to give their real ones to certain clients, that is their prerogative. Is there anything else?[/i]”

“No, uh, just him.”

“[i]Excellent. He’ll be there in forty minutes, sir. Please be ready for a good time. And sir?[/i]”

“Yes?”

“[i]Shall we set up an account now, or will you be wishing to sample the merchandise before making a final decision?[/i]”

“Uh…sample, please.”

“[i]Very well. Enjoy your night, sir.[/i]”

The call ended, and he took a deep breath, leaning back against the couch and trying to melt through it. He had just called a prostitute, and a horse, for that matter. God, he’d have never thought of doing that before.

What the hell was going on with him?

#

He had just started settling in when there was a knock on the door. Knowing who it probably was, Roger took a deep breath, then walked over to the door. He was about to open it when he heard voices on the other side. Pausing, he slowly lifted his head to look through the peephole instead.

It was the dark-furred stallion, alright, but just outside was also –

[i]Ms. Watford?[/i]

He blinked as he watched them, almost like they were arguing. He leaned his ear against the door.

“…not sure this is a good idea,” she was saying. “You told me that you weren’t going to be working in the building; I thought we were keeping this private.”

“You were the one that told me to sign up to fuck the human, dear,” Midnight Grace said. “I didn’t think he’d be put here.”

“I didn’t either, but…can’t you cancel?”

“Why are you changing your mind now?”

“…”

“Oh, god, you want to fuck him too, don’t you?”

“No!” Ms. Watford shouted, only to quiet down a second later. “No, not…not like that. And that’s not the reason, anyway.”

“Look, it’s business. I already knocked on the door, so he’s gonna be here soon. Unless you want to explain why you’re chatting up his prostitute for the night, you might want to clear out.”

“What if he starts telling everyone that we’re like this? I mean…you…I do understand, and you give me…space, but –”

Roger could hardly believe what he was hearing, but the more that he listened, the more he felt bad about eavesdropping. Worse, the more he listened, the more that his dick insisted that they keep listening; it could mean blackmail for getting that mare-pussy.

[i]Fuck you, dickbrain.[/i]

To avoid the temptation, he just opened the door. Both equines turned to face him, and Ms. Watford could not have looked more embarrassed. She gripped her skirt in both hands, trying not to look at him, while Midnight Grace – or Harry, he supposed – looked down at him with a small smile. The black stallion was at least a foot taller than Roger was, and he was dressed in the tightest black pants imaginable. Now that they were both not behind a desk, he could see that Ms. Watford wore shoes, while Mr. Watford had hooves.

An odd difference, but he supposed it took all kinds, and perhaps the Mutations did more than just uplift the animals. Perhaps it left some feral bits and some human bits, changed cocks and other things in ways that were more or less random. Who knew?

“Would you like to come in, Mr. and Ms. Watford?”

“Heh, you’re the customer,” the stallion said. Roger would imagine he’d already guessed that they’d been overheard, while Ms. Watford groaned. “Come on, dear. He already knows. Bet you that he heard most of that.”

“Can I die? Can I just…can I just die right now?”

“If you’re gonna do that, let’s do it in the apartment instead of in the hallway.”

Roger stepped out of the way, and despite it all, he couldn’t help but pop a boner as the two horses stepped inside. He shut the door behind them, shaking his head, feeling his freebie drifting away even as he thought about it, but he wasn’t going to be a dick. He’d already been a dickbrain down at the corner store, he wasn’t going to do that with his landlady.

[i]Not unless she invites you, anyway.[/i]

“Shut up,” he muttered at his dick.

He joined them in the living room, the horses taking up the couch while he had to pull a chair away from the dining room table. Ms. Watford was blushing, the lighter-furred horse looking anywhere but at him, while Mr. Watford looked right at him.

“So, you’re the guy doing the resettling, huh?”

“That’s what I signed up for, yes.”

“Did my wife tell you who I was, or was this just a happy accident?” the stallion asked with a chuckle.

“HARRY!”

“He’s already figured it out, Jolene. Just relax. I mean, look at him. It’s not like he’s going to go around telling people. Yeah?”

Roger shrugged.

“Not like I plan on messing with people. Besides, right now, who am I going to tell?”

“See?” the stallion asked.

“Mmmph…” The mare sighed. “I know it’s not exactly respectable, but…well, there’s a reason it’s a Ms. in my name. It’s not that it’s illegal, but…you know, being the wife, and…and having a husband who’s a prostitute. It…kinda makes me…look like a pimp.”

Roger was suddenly more than a little grateful that he wasn’t drinking anything, because he almost had a spit-take anyway, particularly as the mare covered her face with her hands, hiding behind them. It took everything he had not to sputter and make a bigger scene, particularly when Harry was just rolling his eyes.

“Darling, look. It’s just a way to make money. Plus, it’s fun. It’s not like you’re pimping me out, anyway. That’s Paul.”

“Yeah, but I’m the one that handles the money. It’s the next step to it.”

“Oh, please, you’d have to pick my clients for that.”

“I could do that!” she protested almost indignantly. “I could – what’s wrong, Mr. Harding?”

Having been looking anywhere but at the two horses, Roger shook his head.

“I’m just wondering when I went from moving here to moving to a sitcom…”

“Oh, um…sorry. I didn’t mean to air our dirty laundry,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her head.

“Yeah, and I kinda got off-track. Not that professional of me, really.” Harry shook his head. “So…now that that’s out of the way, I guess it’s up to you. Do you want me to stick around for the night, or should I skedaddle?”

“Actually…” Roger blushed. “I was…kinda thinking of something else…if you’re alright with it.”

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]