Her shift over at ‘Better Kitchens and Chattel’, Makoto Kino skipped merrily out of the store, smiling and humming a happy little ditty as she thought of the paycheck she was going to be receiving next week. She’d just sold not one, not two but EIGHT Grill Master Electric Stoves to that man that was going to be opening that new restaurant at the opposite end of the mall.
It was such great news, she had to share it with her friends. Luckily for her, they weren’t that far off. Walking past only a trio of stores, the tall brunette stopped at the end of that particular branch of the mall which contained the ever popular ‘Slaves and Nobles’, the primary Anchor Store of the Aza Juuban Shopping Mall.
She knew they’d be happy for her; all of them were doing their damnedest to save up for college. Now that Usagi had gone the way of ‘not-so-free range chicken’, there was no more Crystal Tokyo to look forward to and that meant having to make a REAL life...
Oh, how she wished Setsuna would get one. The past three times she saw the viridian-tressed woman since Usagi was processed was the older woman surrounded by empty glass bottles of Jack Daniels... the number of which had only grown with each visit
It certainly didn’t help people’s view of the elder Senshi’s sanity that she kept trying to glue a wig that looked like Usagi’s hairstyle to Haruka, insisting it was for the ‘Greater Good’ or that she kept insisting the Senshi of Uranus would eventually ‘like Mars like that’.
Really, the woman needed a 12-Step Program with a padded room.
Shaking off the images that would only haunt her until she got home and drank enough alcohol to kill said brain cells, she opened the door to the store..
...And thanked the Kami for delivering the stud before her to the mortal plane so that she might tap his tight booty and forever squeal in orgasm ‘til the end of time... which according to Setsuna was sometime next year since she swore the Mayans did have some inside info.
While his danger senses had been honed to react to many a threat, it was understandable that Ranma did not notice the woman that was making a beeline from the entrance to him. After all, his danger sense had already been going off on a slight ring since the blonde with the red bow in her hair had been hanging around him... and it didn’t help that his slave was dressed in a black two-piece with a blue like that went down the right cup and down along the front of the bikini bottoms off-center to the left to match. “I gotta admit Ami...” he told the blunette that had helped Britanny pick it out. “I think it’s gonna hold.”
Ami just nodded, more concerned with ‘holding’ the male as she ‘helped’ him pick out a proper outfit, starting with boxers—because briefs were all too wrong when you just had to get a li’l somethin’-somethin’. “Oh yes, it has a stretch rating of Seven, meaning no matter how she turns—assuming it isn’t a move that will end her life due to the limits of the humanoid body—it will never rip. What more, the toughness rating is an Eight, meaning that unless she messes with someone of living fire, it shouldn’t even melt.”
“...Is that really an issue?” asked Britanny.
Ami shrugged. “Hey, they have idiot warnings on a hair dryer for a reason.” Kami damn it, it was so difficult to not look at Minako right now after saying that.
Noticing the blonde twitching with Ami’s statement, Ranma was about to ask what that meant... only to pause as he realized there was a new sensation.
Let’s see... Britanny in front of him. Ami off to the right and trying not to look at Minako... Minako off to the left and looking like she was about to explode with anger...
“All right,” the Japanese teenager shouted. “Who’s feeling up my ass now!?”
Makoto just paused—not in her groping, just in mind—as she tried to figure out a reason to be groping him. “Um... store policy police, ensuring that the women helping you are doing a proper job,” she rattled off quickly, before cursing Usagi for dumbing her down. She’d never used an excuse that stupid since she was 11! No way would it work now...
To that, Ranma blinked his eyes once, twice. “So... you’re making sure they know proper sizing for me?”
...Unless the girls before her were even stupider in their responses to the male. “...Yes.”
“Ah, okay then,” Ranma said seriously as he looked down at her name badge... and frowned a little as he saw her outfit. “Hey, uh, ‘Makoto’ right?”
She smiled and nodded her head. “Yes, that’s right. It’s Makoto, Makoto Kino!” or Makoto ‘Whatever-The-Hell-Stud-Muffin’s-Last-Name-Is’ if she played her cards right!
“Why are you dressed like one of those guys from the ‘Iron Chef’ show if you’re one of those ‘Store Policy Police’?” the pigtailed martial artist pointed out curiously.
A sweat-dropped went down the side of the ponytailed brunette’s head. “...I work primarily at ‘Better Kitchens and Chattel’. I am continuing to offer my services to other stores out of the goodness of my heart.”
The pigtailed martial artist blinked his eyes once, twice. “...AH! Well, that’s rather nice of you,” he said in all honesty. After a moment, his own sweat-drop started to trail down the side of his head. “...Mind letting go now?”
“...In a moment...”
Ami fought back a growl. No, she would not bitch-slap a teammate—aim was bad enough on the battlefield and odds were the sugar daddy before her wouldn’t want such a violent girl as a girlfriend/wife/booty call to keep quiet about from the other two. “Totally unprofessional, Mako-chan,” the blunette tsked. “You know that as a quality control officer of store personnel, you should be able to determine the proper sizes quickly, without notice, to ensure you gain the correct expression of the competence of the employee you are shadowing.”
True, that made not one bit of sense, but there were enough big words to confuse other Senshi with IQs less than what most space agencies were supposed to allow in their rocket scientists.
Wincing as she realized while that Ami WAS covering for her, she was obviously getting peeved—she could only wonder as Ami had stated her goals were on money for college and not boyfriends—it was with much reluctance that the tall and buxom woman—yet not as tall nor as buxom as the werecat glaring at her—finally relinquished her hold of the most holy of male gluts.
“...Thanks...” Ranma said slowly as he turned about, wondering if he should ask about the white flour hand-print that was now clear-as-day on his black kempo pants.
“Anyway,” Britanny growled, trying both not to appear cock-blocking of the other women around her—but not wanting to prove such by shoving them through the walls, “I have my outfits, Master. Shouldn’t we leave now?”
“But what about his outfits?” Minako asked quickly, wanting to keep the stud in the store long enough for her to demonstrate certain skills... hopefully in places that wouldn’t end up on YouTube’s adult section.
“Correct!” Ami replied, thinking of her own needs—and what she would happily do for her sugar daddy. “It would be wrong of us to send you into your own matches with such style lacking in an outfit, not to mention the lack of practicality.”
Ranma just blinked. What was wrong with his outfit... aside from the flour on it? Was the match gluten-free?
Looking around and noticing three sets of shimmering eyes, and Britanny’s as the woman seemed to be glaring, the pigtailed martial artist was torn. On the plus-side, buying more WOULD upset his father... on the down-side it seemed staying to buy more would upset Britanny. Odd that, considering she was the one that insisted they go to a mall.
Smirking a little, Britanny decided to get her Master’s attention and agree to her way of thinking by crossing her arms beneath her breasts and then hefting them up a bit, showing off her massive mammaries.
“........” was the collective response of the other three women as there was suddenly a noticeable bulge in front of the martial artist who looked ahead with his jaw gaping open. The pants... they hid NOTHING!
Not that such was a bad thing, mind you.
No one wanted a sugar daddy packing a 5pk of gum.
No one wanted a boyfriend that lacked more than a finger
...Actually, the last line took care of the other two, only the lack of any companionship and the growing desire to perhaps listen to Michiru’s offered tutoring session on Women: the Other Boyfriend, could also be mentioned.
Ranma, however, fought against an opponent he had never faced before: teenage hormones. Large breasts, nipples perking up enough to push out the material confining them, the constant teasing she had done all day...
Wait, he was supposed to be thinking about something...
Breasts bouncing, reset the line of though, derailing the train of consciousness once again with no survivors or a black box to be found.
“...Huh?”
Like most males, that was the extent of his intelligence at the moment.
The werecheetah smiled. “I was just saying, yes, I agree that this is a great swimsuit Master, and that I also agree that we should get going, your current outfit is JUST fine and that no, this isn’t that great a store and we have no reason to return here. Ever.”
“That doesn’t sound like... something... I...” the raven-haired youth trailed off as Britanny cupped her breasts with her arms, raising the twins high once more. “Yeah... whatever you say... let’s go pay for ‘em...”
Ami whipped her head. Damn it! She may not have Mako-chan’s bust or Mina-chan’s ability to claim to deep-throat a frozen popsicle, but she would not lose her possible sugar-daddy! Hell, she didn’t visit those erotic story websites just to get off! She did it to study too! No way would she lose a man when she got him on her hook! “But surely you’d want your Master to fight in the finest outfits available that properly show off his defined form, and not an outfit that screamed ‘po’ folk’ or something else that would make all who viewed him consider less of him outside the ring?”
...She also had the most time to watch Soaps, so she knew how to be a bitch without angering the clueless male.
Britanny's tail twitched erratically. She slowly turned to glare at the woman before... smiling. She moved to hug Ranma from behind, her breasts resting atop his head. “Oh, thank you ever so much for finding these bathing suits and other outfits for me Master... you were so skilled, finding them all by yourself with no help from anyone else.”
“...Uh huh...” Ranma said slowly, paused in his tracks and his smile quivering as he shivered.
“Yep, Master... such a skilled, smart and loving Master...” she praised Ranma, laying on the ‘dutiful slut slave’ pretty thick. “How about we pay for these so we can go down to ‘J.C. Penny’s Dungeon Basement’ so we can find you something simple and clean...”
“...Uh huh...” Ranma said slowly. Yes, getting some clothes from this Dungeon place sounded good right about now...
Ami’s eyes narrowed. Okay, appealing to the slave’s sense of wanting her Master to look fabulous wasn’t working. Perhaps the slave wanted to get some as well...
Well, time to move to Plan B—or was it C, thanks to the cock-block? “What type of slave would rather her Master consort at such a discount clothing place rather than get high-quality clothing at a lower price from our fine establishment!?” she yelled.
Shame, the Great Plan!
Britanny’s ears folded back a little. She frowned a little as she relented... to a degree. “Master, the employee does bring up a good point,” she whispered into his hair as she nuzzled him, her breasts now to his shoulders and neck. “You would look fine in some of these clothes.”
“...Look... fine... clothes...” Ranma mumbled the basic gist, too distracted by the warm fuzzy feelings.
“Yep... so let’s look for such clothes... on our own...” she said pointedly as she aimed Ranma to the men’s section and started to lead him from behind, protecting his ass from any groping hands.
Ami once again proved she could think above the waist... to get some action below it that didn’t involve Minako’s speech of: “Roofies: Not Just for Males Anymore”.
“But with a company assistant here to review how well we sell merchandise for the company, surely your Master wouldn't want to risk our employment over shopping just by himself in this large store. Look how long it took to find your outfits!” Ami called out, playing on Makoto’s earlier lie in hopes of appealing to the male’s sense of chivalry.
“...A company rep’s here?” asked the blonde girl of the trio, looking wildly about. Damn it! She just had to wear underwear today, didn’t she!?
Looking at the blonde who was spinning, in place, Makoto felt embarrassed for her friend. “Careful, Minako. Keep showing people that you don’t have enough intelligence and you may end up on the same path as Usagi.”
“What!?” Minako gasped. “But I don’t want my brain-washed! It’s dry-clean only!!” she wailed. “Artemis even got me that nice bong to steam out all my bad thoughts!”
“......” Makoto was both disturbed by this piece of news, and curious as to how the Mooncat got his paws on such drug paraphernalia when the feline himself had no opposable thumbs.
Ami just twitched. Was it too much to ask her friends not to shoot down the only acceptable chance she had to get some and get college paid?
Well, yes, it probably was and she should have known that, and would have remembered such, had she had a hunk cleaning her plumbing instead of Mr. Happy-Times, now stuck on battery power as her mother had borrowed the wall power supply for it and not returned it!
During all this, Ranma just turned his head slightly—was that the ocean? “I can hear the beach...” he mumbled, the right side of his face pressed against one of Britanny’s breasts.
Smiling, Britanny purred as she hugged her Master. Yes, she was proud to have a Master so desirable. He was no Stryyp but she was sure she could mold him to be better than her previous boyfriend; it wasn’t like he or her sisters had gone out of their way to find her. She was sure they would’ve done so by now!
Oh well. She’d just have to settle for a cuddly young Master and the knowledge that dad was probably biting off her sisters’ heads.
Yes, it really was hard being the middle sister...
Walking up to the gates of the Kuno Estate, Nabiki sighed as she swiped her security card along the card reader by the side door, the ‘servant entrance’ so she could start a new day of work and keep her family in the black. Kami forbid the others do anything; nope, Kasumi has to be the housewife while Akane has to be the Heir to the Dojo!
“Being the middle sister sucks...” the young Tendo woman grumbled as the door opened and she walked past the frame, the heavy metal slab closing behind her. She walked the familiar path to get to the servants quarters so she could get dressed into her... ‘uniform’... that is if one could call it a uniform—damn whatever Kuno had declared that all of their female slaves would wear a certain Princess Leia outfit from Star Wars VI!
At least she had a new uniform per day. Although no way in the Dark Side did she want to know what happened to her old ones... hmm... maybe she could have someone tell Akane? Youngest goes insane, Nabiki would move up in the house pecking-order.
The woman then chuckled to herself. Nah. Wouldn’t happen; her going up in the pecking order that is, not the likelihood of Akane going insane. Daddy was so obsessed with his little girl becoming the Heir of the Dojo, yet did nothing to really train her once his wife—her mother—died. Once a proud Samurai family themselves, they’d had to sell all their slaves and a lot of others things to stay in the black, including pride.
Looking at the black leather top with gold-plated intricately-designed molded frame, Nabiki sighed. Oh yes, she'd definitely sold A LOT of her pride in becoming a Contract Slave for Tatewaki Kuno.
Yes, it paid well... but every day, she felt that much closer to slitting her wrists with Kasumi’s favorite wrist-slitting razor.
Yes, she knew what Kasumi did in her spare time. She wasn’t an idiot, Nabiki saw the scars. Who knew the House Wives in the neighborhood had a Fight Club, let alone that Kasumi had such an excellent record in it? Damn it! If she’d found out sooner, she could have tried to set up a betting scheme... had not the second rule of Housewife Fight Club not been to knit a blanket to smother any outsider who discovered Housewife Fight Club...
At least it got Kasumi the right to have the prime choices of foods from the market.
Sighing as she banished such thoughts from her head, the middle Tendo daughter knew she was stalling. Laying out her work clothes, Nabiki began to undress, putting her regular clothing into the locker before dressing. Once she was in brassiere, elegant loin-cloth, and leather collar and leash, Nabiki closed the locker and turned about to walk off...
...And then fell over, coughing as she choked herself. She glared at the doorframe of her locker which had caught onto the very end of the leash. Unhooking it, she took several seconds to rub her throat and catch her breath before reattaching the collar. “Damn it, every Monday,” she muttered, stomping off to get the work assignment for the day.
With any luck, she could avoid doing anything for Kodachi. She didn't wish to know why she thought that, just once again thankful the library had a book on memory repression. Oh, how would she get through the day without it...
Exiting out the back door and now making her along the path that was on the other side, the woman dressed as a Sex Slave made her wait to the main building. Upon opening the door, there was Sasuke, the poor Shinobi waxing the floors, both his hands on one thick piece of washcloth as he ran across the wooden planks. “Sasuke!” she shouted. “Where’s the Master today?”
“In his study,” the diminutive retainer of the Kuno family replied.
Crossing her arms over her chest, the breadwinner of the Tendo family replied, “Which one? ‘Serious Samurai’, ‘Captured by Kodachi’ or, ‘Oh-Me-So-Horny-For-the-Fierce-Tigress-Akane-Tendo’?”
“...The third one...”
“Of course,” Nabiki muttered, massaging the right side of her head with her hand. Just once, could he be in the former when she arrived... clothed... and not watching porn?
Taking a deep breath to steel her will—and be once again glad it was her sister the Samurai-Wannabe lusted after and not her—she made her way there...
“ACK!!”
*Thump*!
Or rather, tried.
“By the way, I waxed that hallway earlier, so be careful,” the Ninja Retainer warned a minute too late.
Yes, always the quiet ones... although Nabiki did plan payback... just as soon as wind returned to her lungs and she assured herself that she was not suffering a concussion or some serious internal injuries.
No way would Kuno’s family provide health care for their slaves. Damn World Government shooting down Obamacare!!
Shaking her head and realizing nothing was loose and rattling inside her skull, the middle Tendo slowly got back up and made her way to the Kuno Family Library.
Granted, it was only a library in name, as there were no book in there that had no less than two pictures per page and a number of books which had been in there previously had been chucked into the furnace to make room for a flat screen TV and various disc players: said Blu-Rays and DVDs taking up room now.
Stopping outside the doors of said room and bracing herself—as well as steeling her stomach—Nabiki pushed the doors open.
She let out a sigh of relief at seeing Kuno completely clothed. “Oh thank Kami-sama!” she cried out in utter joy.
“Nuh-Nabiki Tendo!” Tatewaki yelped in surprise as the woman walked in. “What do you think you’re doing, interrupting my ‘meditation’!?” he demanded to know.
She could only twitch. The louse was fully clothed. So what was so...
No, she most certainly did not want to continue that line of thought. And I thought the sister was the freaky one. Ignoring the obvious question—as curiosity with a Kuno involved usually led to a dead cat via gruesome suicide—as well as the odd buzzing noise, she just sent her patented glare at him. “I am here for my job, Master.”
“Y-You aRe?” Tatewaki asked, his voice hitching, as he turned his body 180—and his hands quickly darting into his pants to retrieve a small object—not the fleshy kind, perverts—as he stared at the clock. “Ah, so it tis! Truly, my meditations have become so deep, I may at times lose knowledge of the passing of such in our waking world.”
“...Whatever,” she waved off. “So, what’s on the list of duties for today?” she finally asked, hoping that as always, she would keep her virginities—if not self-respect or sanity... or what happened during times she knew best to not remember.
He laughed off the woman’s entrance and drawled reply as he continued, “Indeed, time is of the essense. Now come, Nabiki! Go and retrieve your scribe tools: your rice paper scrolls, your jars of ink and calligraphy brush, so that I may give you the day’s edicts! There is much I wish to see done over this month and I want you to keep full track of it. Now go, chop, chop!” he clapped his hands for emphasis.
Nabiki stared at him as she went to the back of her outfit and took off her SlaviPhone from the pouch on the back of the loincloth belt. “Or I could just text it into my planner.”
The Scion of the House of Kuno snorted. Accursed modern technology invading into his pure Samurai World! “Very well,” he stated haughtily... before tossing an unknown object across the room.
*Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz*!
And turning it back on.
Coughing into his fist, he strode in that direction, Tatewaki tried to get the woman’s attention off of what was going on. “Today, I feel the need to compose romantic haiku to express my purest love for the Fierce Tigress!”
Nabiki nodded, pretending to type. His entire sentence had fallen into listing Standard Job #2, which was to inform Akane Kuno was writing her poems.
Not that she’d never write them.
Which was good because Akane never read them.
Also good, because Kuno would spend several hours just trying to get the perfect first line—and violating the Japanese Language like a tentacle demon to a newbie priestess. So, perhaps today would be an easy day, minus the desire to poke out her own eardrums to silence Kuno’s attempt at poetry.
Dear Kami-sama, she couldn’t wait to get home. She was SO going to hit up her dad’s secret stash. It’s not like he could deny her, she was the breadwinner here, so of course she deserved to enjoy the saké Kasumi brought home every week... which was yet another perk of her being a member of the Housewife Fight Club... the local Liquor Store paid ‘tribute’ to her every week for ‘protection’.
If she didn't know better, she'd think they were some sort of MiLF Porn Mafia... but that wasn’t the case, they had Kasumi and her elder sister was NO MiLF.
“Next up, I will require your assistance, as I once again attempt to use the substandard materials Sasuke provided, in order to finally create a true masterpiece of art for you to deliver to your sister, in my name!”
Translation: Paint by numbers and clumps of half-baked clay that was equal to Akane’s attempts at cooking most meals.
“And if time permits for today, you shall assist in my daily cleaning ritual, so that I may be worthy of young Akane in spirit as well as mind and body!”
Translation: Chip excess clay off him and hose off the paints.
Then came the usual request that just made Nabiki role her eyes. “And of course, I wish for you to put forth the monthly advertisement in the traditional choice of newspapers and grocery store periodicals; that I am looking to hire or purchase a slave of the lycanthrope variety.”
Nabiki rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you’d like to actually put forth a number price more than four digits, not including the change?”
“Silence!” he yelled, but at her or the vibrating object that refused to be shut off, she could not tell.
Acting finally in aggression, he ripped open a small panel, yanked out the batteries... and slammed the small ladybug massager onto the table in triumph!
Of course, he then realized he had an audience, straightened his outfit, and slowly walked away from the table. “Do you think a mere slave knows what the proper market-value for a Lycan Slave is!?” he asked.
“Considering you have been advertising since Middle School and have only gotten responses asking if you were serious, drunk, insane, or some culmination thereof, I might,” she responded.
Kuno twitched as he glared at the Mercenary Slave in garb of his favorite woman from his favorite epic space samurai movie and told her, “That is the pricing they went for back in the mid-1980’s when the werewolves and the werecheetahs finished their war and that Kyle Gniess fellow put the whole race of werewolves on the market!”
“And therein is the problem,” Nabiki retorted. “That was nearly thirty years ago and with a whole race. There are NO werewolves left that aren’t already owned. And there are no werecats or wererats that would lower themselves to be in the werewolves’ position!”
In a store across Tokyo, a certain werecheetah sneezed, nearly costing her as her tail managed to trip up the tall, busty human as she tried to maneuver around her and drag Ranma into the changing room to assist him in trying on new boxers.
“The world does have a little thing called inflation, Kuno-Baby,” Nabiki continued to explain. “What you paid for a liter of milk in the 80’s wouldn't even by you a bottle of it listed in milliliters now.”
Kuno frowned. “Very well... you may double what I am offering... they should be appreciative and accept such a deal the value it is!”
Raising an eyebrow, all Nabiki could wonder by how much this would also increase the phone calls... after all, she was sure people would call more... if only so they could tell the jackass off for such an insult.
Still, it wasn’t any skin off her nose. “All right, I will do that for you, Master Kuno...” the middle Tendo replied. The middle Tendo daughter repressed the sigh she felt coming as she continued to question, “Anything else?”
“Yes, actually,” Tatewaki replied. “I have learned that there is a special tournament event going on soon... four specialized and definitely varied tournaments with four prizes to choose from. I wish for you to sign me up for the Fighting Tournament as I have heard rumors that your sister, the Fierce Tigress Akane Tendo has taken interest in it. Surely if I can best her in combat, she will see my worth.”
“...Perhaps,” she replied with a smile—damned it was hard not to laugh out loud right there and then. With any luck, the fool would bet on himself, asking her to place it.
She wouldn’t. After all, if she wanted to throw money away, she’d... well, she’d give it to her Father.
With that in mind, she knew when—not if—the idiot gave her his cash to make profit off of his ‘certain victory’, she’d keep it. Maybe invest a fraction on her sister—for just in case, and at least perhaps knock down her servitude a year or so.
“And finally, when you sign me up for the Fighting Tournament, I wish for you to sign yourself in as well,” Tatewaki continued. “I believe you could do very well in the Mud Wrestling Tournament... yes, you are lithe and snake-like, surely you could free yourself of any such grasps when mud is... involved...” he trailed off. Realizing the woman was glaring at him, Kuno could only ask, “What? It is your duty to represent the Kuno Family in such an event of prestige and honor!”
Must... not... beat... with... handheld... electronics! The middle child of Soun’s was severely reconsidering Retirement Option #8: throw some full-sexual access to someone strong and good enough to slip into the mansion while she had an alibi and execute him in the most painful way possible.
“Perhaps,” Tatewaki continued. “We could even ask my future father-in-law to give you some additional training, to bring honor to the Kuno Clan by ensuring a strong performance!”
“...”
*TWING*!
Startled, Kuno looked around. “What was that!?”
“A thread of sanity snapping,” Nabiki stated with a growl, before entering his request into her hand-held.
Kuno smiled. “Oh, there is no reason for you to be upset, fair Nabiki. I am willing to allow you to keep any winnings you wish to bet on yourself or should win if you actually take on the entire tournament. The prestige you will give my family by giving a good show of it is appreciated and besides...” he grinned. “The chance to face-off against the fair maiden Akane is more than enough reward for me!”
Nabiki fought to keep from suffering a stroke. No, this was not going to get worse.
“BROTHER!” came the cry from the younger, female Kuno sibling. “Where is that slave!? I wish to be bathed and shaved before my match tonight!”
Nabiki twitched erratically. ...No one knows my pain!
No one! mentally growled Britanny, as she struggled to keep all three girls from seducing her Master like the nasty skanks they were! Like she wasn’t going to unwrap that particular package first!
“Oh, come on!” the blonde with a red ribbon in her hair whined. “I just want to make sure these boxers fit him!” she said in all seriousness. “How else will he be able to get his boxers on if he doesn’t have a specialist doing it for him!?”
The werecheetah stepped forward. “You do realize that he does have a SLAVE to do it for him, right?” Bitanny snarled at the smaller woman, as if daring her to say otherwise.
Looking back and forth between the women glaring at each other, the brunette who’s raised hands were making groping motions in the air and the blue-tressed girl who was opening a bottle of Excedrin, the pigtailed martial artist politely pointed out, “Ladies... I DO know how to dress myself.”
“WHO ASKED YOU!?” was the response in stereo.
Ami downed the two pills, grabbing a nearby bottle of water from a refrigerator—always helps to keep people who are shopping to keep from being dehydrated. Did she have to always display her awesome brain to save their collective asses? The werecheetah looked about ready to shove the boxers down Minako’s throat, Makoto was too busy off in La-La-Land, muttering about ‘bigger and better than Sempai’, leaving her to solve the puzzling problem... again.
She began to seriously wonder if the only reason the Senshi had survived as long as they did was due to her awesome brainage... “Sorry, store policy, can’t let you do it in case you get injured and your Master sues us, forcing us to lose our jobs and end up poor slaves sold to some unsavory massive cosplay addicts.”
Glaring at the blue-haired, flat-chested girl who always seemed to have a response for everything Britanny growled at her. As there was no visibly reaction from her, the female werecat finally relented. “Fine, I will allow a representative to help my Master into a pair of boxers...”
With the woman apparently giving up, Ami smiled and was about to step forward to suggest herself... only to pause and watch as the werecheetah walked away and go across the store.
Ami frowned as the woman came back with another sales associate... a MALE sales associate! Well played you fucking bitch... well played...
The blunette snorted. As if this would deter her. She would have herself a sugar daddy to pay for college, come hell or high water!
“I’m sorry, Mistress Firestar!” the restrained Usagi cried as Rei placed a towel over her face. “I’m sorry! Please no more Hell-and-High-Water! No more!”
“Quite, slut-bunny!” the Shinto Priestess hissed. “Chip my tea-cup will you!? You haven’t been punished enough!!”
“WAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!” the Odango-Haired Full-Use Sex Slave of Rei Hino cried out as the raven-haired dominatrix poured a bucket of water over the chained drowning girl’s face.
Read the comments on this episode
See other episodes by Red Priest of the 17th Order
(Posted Tue, 12 Jul 2011 21:58)
Questions? Problems? Suggestions?
Send a mail to addventure@bast-enterprises.de
or use the contact form.
らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
All other series and their characters are © by their respective creators or owners. No claims of ownership of these characters are implied by the authors of this Addventure, or should be inferred.
The Anime Addventure is a non-profit site.