I never asked for this

[Prototype]

I am portrayed as what?

I don't think you are... Yet

[Chairman_Tiel]

I told you all from the beginning it was a trap. Now look what has happend, also i'm portrayed as a man.

I will fix.

[fr0stbyte124]

I read that as "It will fit" and spit out my drink.

[Prototype]

I read that as "It will fit" and spit out my drink.

Good, good, I wasn't the only one then

[Chairman_Tiel]

Chapter 2 up. Here for your convenience.

Spoiler:

She sighed as I manipulated the rolls of fur, gripping muscles and massaging them from my place behind where she sat in a wooden chair. I had been a masseuse in another life, my wings providing agile appendages for which to rub and twist where necessary. It was clear the feline before me was benefiting more than me, but it was a relaxing exercise to feel one’s hands move in calculated, precise motions. Much more so than figuring out how to dislodge bullets from a god forsaken pipe.

Granted, some adjustments had to be made to my technique. Normally, I had to alter bearings ever so slightly to avoid bras and other articles of clothing on a customer’s chest, but the Catian wore none. Technically, the feline wasn’t actually wearing anything, despite her possessing the same modesties one would expect on a human female, albeit somewhat concealed by fur. In light of this, I made no attempt to avoid them as my wings danced about her torso.

“I take it this will cost extra?” She moaned as I kneaded her chest.

I chuckled, despite myself. “Naw, this is good for my concentration. It’s on the house.”

Yet, as I massaged Cats, I was also letting my thoughts drift to the veritable conundrum but a few feet away. Two foot long iron pipe. Bullets. How to make the two mutually exclusive?
Maybe the answer was in front of me...

“Say, do you think you could do me a favor?”

“Mmm?”

I leaned over and grabbed the pipe, then brought it up so that the tip hovered beneath her mouth, the bottom length of the cylinder inadvertently coming to a rest amidst her bosom.

“Basically, spit in this.”

It could work. With sufficient lubrication the obstruction should merely slip out, particularly if the corrosive properties of Catian saliva were more than just rumor.

“Will I get a reward?” she asked cheekily.

“I dunno babe, I could stick around a little longer.” I replied as I squeezed her forearm.

“Ahhh....... That feels good...”
***

I looked about frantically. Where had my beautiful girl gone?

Then, from the other side of the bar, came a gruff voice.

“If you’re looking for that chick, mate, she’s gone off with a dumb looking bird.”

You get some odd customers in the bar, but this dude was seriously strange. He hardly fit in the building, the massive red wings he possessed sprouting from his scaly back and almost touching the roof.

He was a dragon. A very large one, at that. In the seat next to him was a human girl, seemingly trying to get him to stuff a wing down her top.

I stared open-mouthed at the scene, but mentally cursed my misfortune at losing the nicest girl I’ve ever met.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Certainly! He just grabbed her, started to undo her space suit, and ran off!”

My heart sank. My beautiful girl would never have been able to resist someone carrying her off to a bed. The temptation was just too great.

A moment later, I was distracted by the appearance of a male pole-dancer on the hitherto empty stage. He was a very strange individual, and was wearing nothing but a very small pair of boxer shorts. He grabbed the pole and began to push his body against it, moaning loudly.

It was absolutely disgusting, yet somehow endearing, despite the fact that I had never seen such an objectively disturbing thing in my whole life. Several people were shouting “Cats! Cats!” at the tops of their voices.

At that moment, a small yet very intelligent looking aye-aye ran onto the stage. He was clutching a bag of white powder, which he dangled before the ostensible dancer, like a carrot in front of a donkey. Almost immediately, the feline leaped off the pole and leaped at the bag, which was passed to a bouncer, who in turn ran off back-stage. The drug dealer looked apologetically at the people around the bar, then began to shout at the top of his voice.

“Bliss! Bagged Bliss available here!”

The only person who took him up on his offer was a ragged-looking tramp, whom the dealer greeted as “Joykler”. He was a very decrepit looking character, with a tinfoil hat firmly fastened to his head of graying black hair. In a fashion suggesting the transaction had consumed the last of his money, he sped out the door, looking fearfully around in case anyone had noticed him.
Everybody had.

Before the hobo apparent could even reach the aperture leading out of the tavern, a bulky Israeli man with a worn beret bearing the insignia of the IDF gathered him up in his massive biceps and proceeded to shout at his face in another language.

The man meekly responded in turn, but it didn’t calm down the man. If anything, more anger spread over his features and I began to see ‘joykler’ gasp for breath, his wheezes growing more desperate as the soldier-apparent squeezed harder and harder.

No one looked surprised. Evidently, Joykler’s confrontations with the Israeli were a common occurrence.

I began to panic. How could I cope with all that was happening to me?

Just then, the melancholy tones of a wonderful song began to sound throughout the building. It was the Dust Bowl by Mumford and sons. The tune re-invigorated me and a resolve began to spread around me to find the monster who had stolen my girl - and to bring her back.
***

Meanwhile, another man was facing a similar conundrum, if not in a completely different sense. As I maneuvered the paved sidewalks of my hometown of Port Offtopic, I had but one desire. To see Vinyl again, even if it meant coming together as friends rather than lovers. The nameplate issued by my job and currently pinned on my chest bore the name, ‘Tau’, but I did not feel as if I were the personality attached to that word. I was leaving my policing duties for the second time ever.

[Prototype]

Lol, Joykler.

Should I be worried that I haven't appeared yet?

[Chairman_Tiel]

Yes. Be very afraid.

...we have plans for you.

[Prototype]

Dang, I thought being a robot would save me from most of it, however I now realise this is horribly wrong.

[Crash Override]

Yes. Be very afraid.

...we have plans for you.

OH NOES

[MrTargareyan]

I guess given that i have named myself after a character from game of thrones who is notorious for umm...inappropriate scenes, this fanfic isn't going to go to well for me

[DeadlyMiddie]

I'm glad that I haven't shown up yet. Jus sayin.

[Chairman_Tiel]

[DeadlyMiddie]

Oh...shi*

[Luna]

Oh...shi*

you asked for it

[cats]

I approve everything about the fic so far.