Heavenly Fox (1)
There'd been absolute chaos in the morning — a raucous game of tag in a cramped little room, starting before we'd even finished breakfast — but thankfully we made it through without any real damage.
What happened back then was less anyone's fault and more the product of two people getting absolutely shitfaced and reverting to beasts, so it was closer to an accident than anything else.
A beast and another beast doing beastly things to each other — there was no way to sort out blame once we sobered up, and honestly, the guy who asked for the show and the girl who gave it were about equally guilty. So the only real option was to pretend it never happened, which was exactly what we did.
Of course, another reason we got through it unscathed was that I hadn't been caught stealing Lilis's panties.
In other words, Lilis's panties were still sitting in my pocket.
The drunken incident was a mutual screwup, fine. But this one was entirely my fault, and if I got caught, I was genuinely fucked.
Anyway, after all that sweating, I showered and came out to find Lilis still rooting through every corner of my room.
"Ugh, damn it... where the hell did it go?"
Seeing her like that made me feel guilty for no reason. Not that I had any intention of returning it.
She'd been playing dumb-clueless this whole time, and if I suddenly confessed now that I'd swiped it, I could already picture how that would go. There was no salvaging it anymore.
Absolute silence. I cannot get caught. With that thought burning in my head, I spoke up.
"Still haven't found it?"
At that, Lilis turned her head toward me just slightly and let out a sigh.
"You really don't know anything, do you?"
"How would I know? It's your underwear."
I locked eyes with Lilis, who refused to drop her suspicion even at the very end. She was staring at me through narrowed, bloodshot eyes. No evidence, sure — but judging by her expression alone, she had already convicted me as the culprit.
Which, to be fair, was reasonable suspicion. Two people get blackout drunk and pass out in a shoebox of an apartment, and when they wake up, one pair of panties is gone? Obviously the only suspect was the other person you slept next to.
But this couldn't stand.
By her logic, I was the culprit — and I was the culprit — but I couldn't be the culprit.
I met her gaze with all the brazen shamelessness I could muster.
"Look, if I knew where it was, I'd have said so already. Do I look like some pervert who'd hide a woman's underwear?"
"You are a pervert, though."
She'd figured me out way too well in the span of a single day. But it was still just one day. Lilis didn't know me nearly as well as she thought she did.
I put on the most wronged, most pitiful face I could manage.
It wasn't hard. Somewhere along the way, my wronged-and-pitiful expression had reached a level that could give professional actors a run for their money. All I had to do was dredge up one of the many shit-tier experiences from my childhood, and I could produce the most aggrieved face on the planet.
Anyway, the moment I wore that wounded expression, I watched Lilis's momentum wilt. Looking at her like that, I spread both arms wide.
"That's just cold, you know... If you really don't trust me, then go ahead and search. Problem solved, right?"
That was a bluff. A dangerous one.
Because her panties were still in my pocket, obviously. If Lilis had said fine, let's search then right there, I would have been truly, irreversibly fucked.
But Lilis was softer-hearted than she looked.
Just as she'd learned I was a pervert in a single day, I'd learned in that same day that she was far more tender underneath than she let on.
When I pushed that hard, Lilis's face went awkward.
"No, it's not that I suspect you, it's just..."
"You've been asking me over and over if I know where it is. If that's not suspicion, what is it?"
At my words, Lilis heaved a deep sigh and scratched at her head.
"Fine, fine, I get it, so quit making that face. A grown man sulking over this... Ugh, wait — did I maybe toss it outside? What if someone picked it up?"
"Wouldn't know. That one's on you."
Watching Lilis finally, genuinely let go of her suspicion, I breathed a silent sigh of relief.
"Anyway, I'm heading out. You don't need to go in today?"
"I'm off. I only have to work three days a week."
All that whining about wanting to sponge off the sweet life — and she'd already been bathing in honey this whole time.
Having heard roughly how much Lilis pulled in, I was freshly reminded that she was living a life so absurdly enviable it made my teeth ache. And a pension on top of that? Ridiculous. It defied belief.
Then a thought struck me.
"Hold on. You said you were staying away because of your mother. Is it really okay for you to be gone that often?"
"You can't tell anything's wrong until it actually happens, can you? You just go when it does. That's exactly what that artifact you're carrying around is for. What, am I supposed to be on call twenty-four hours a day?"
Huh. Fair point.
Being on standby around the clock — literally all year, all hours — would have crossed the line hard. As generous a life as Lilis's sounded, even I didn't want to live like that, so yeah, that would have been extreme. Not that I wasn't still jealous of a woman who worked three days a week.
"Alright, that's fine then. But are you really just going to keep staying here?"
"No, I'm going home. Why would I stay in this shoebox? I didn't find the panties either. Once you leave, I'm leaving too."
It was cramped, sure, but did she really have to put it like that?
Cramped and falling apart it may have been, but it was still my place. Well, in the technical sense that I rented it, calling it "mine" was a stretch — but still.
While I was grumbling internally, Lilis, who'd been watching me, held something out.
"...Anyway, here. Take this."
"What is it this time?"
I took what she offered and saw a small glass bottle filled with some kind of liquid.
"Call it perfume, or something like it. Except instead of adding a scent, it erases scent entirely. You washed with that cheap body wash just now, right? Don't use that stuff anymore. There are plenty of women out there with hypersensitive noses for exactly that kind of smell."
"Oh..."
Come to think of it, werebeasts and most of the other races had senses of smell that put a human like me to shame. A body wash that just smelled vaguely of lemon to me could come off as absolutely foul to them.
"Thanks, I'll put it to good use. Maman."
"How many times did I tell you not to call me that?!"
Face flushing red, Lilis hurled a pillow at me. I dodged it with a whoosh and bolted out the door.
"Off to work, Maman!"
"You little shit! Hey—!"
Ignoring the roar behind me, I broke into a sprint just in case she decided to give chase.
While I waited, toying with the panties in my pocket, the taxi I'd called came running up from down the street.
When I climbed in, the driver — an orc — looked me over and furrowed his brow. A face that was already terrifying got cranked up to nightmare-fuel levels, but as a country cousin who'd grown up around gym-rat orcs, I knew that this was, in fact, his smile.
"Welcome. You're the one who called the cab, correct?"
Every now and then the orc's fearsome looks or his idea of a smile got misread by other races as pure murderous rage, and it caused misunderstandings — but orcs were, on the whole, gentlemen.
Granted, with a build one size bigger than the average human, muscle on every one of them by default, and skin green as a spring meadow, they could be off-putting.
On top of that, most humans carried weirdly deep prejudices about orcs as a species, so plenty of people looked at them through tinted glasses.
But against all that prejudice, the vast majority of orcs were kind and courteous people.
Also a race that was terrifying as hell when they got angry, of course.
And the reason they were so polite? Because if they weren't, things went very, very badly for them.
Orc courtesy was a culture that had developed out of their naturally hot blood and their overwhelming physical strength. Everyone stepping carefully around everyone else's temper — each of them protecting their own body in the only way they could.
There was even a saying about it.
The reason most races are less polite than orcs is that being rude to an orc doesn't get your head split open with an axe.
"Yes, that's me. Pleasure to meet you."
In other words, unless I wanted to watch this perfectly courteous orc develop anger-management issues, I had to mind my manners too.
"Where to?"
I gave the orc the address, he nodded, and the taxi pulled out onto the road. It rolled along the asphalt in a long, steady line, and I found myself gazing blankly out the window.
How long had it been since I'd last ridden a taxi? Back when even the bus fare made me break out in a cold sweat.
"Say, is there some kind of festival going on over there?"
I turned my head at the driver's voice, mid-daze.
"A festival?"
The orc nodded at my question.
"Three different passengers asked to go there today. Just today."
Just today, he'd said — but it was barely ten in the morning, and that already meant three people were headed to the same place I was.
Was there seriously a festival going on?
Like I'd have any idea what was even there.
"Really? I haven't heard anything about it."
"Is that so? It's not exactly a place with much to see, so when my coworkers said they'd all picked up passengers headed there today too, I figured a festival had popped up. Guess not."
Apparently it was just simple curiosity. Having said his piece, the orc returned his attention to the road, and I picked up my smartphone.
"Ah, mind if I use my phone?"
"Of course, go ahead."
Not that it was likely, but just in case he'd snap at a passenger for goofing off on their phone, I checked first — and once I had his blessing, I opened Mammathong.
Then I searched my stage name, KangHanCock, and found that, unlike yesterday, there was now one review attached.
It was posted under the username MyungMyungsMomma.
Seeing that username — built from the name I'd given her child — I snorted a bitter laugh, then checked what it actually said.
"Oh, wow..."
So her online personality was the complete opposite of her real one, apparently.
Reading a review that, in human terms, amounted to he pounded right into my womb and it was amazing, he came inside me ten times, I'm so happy — the sheer lewdness of it made me embarrassed on her behalf.
Which made sense, since it meant every other person out there could read it too.
Still, seeing a five-out-of-five review made me feel a stupid little swell of pride.
"And the comments have already blown up too. Way more than yesterday... huh?"
I looked at the comment count again. Something was off about the number of digits.
Yesterday it had been a few dozen at most. Now it had swollen into the thousands.
"Th... thousands?"
What on earth had happened?
Staring at a comment section that had grown by thousands — not even hundreds — overnight, my brain shorted out. Poking around Mammathong to figure out why, I quickly found the reason.
Because a post with that title had jumped out at me.
The content itself was nothing special.
Two screenshots — my info window from yesterday and my info window from today, side by side — announcing far and wide that my dick had grown by more than 2cm. That was it. That was the whole post.
And its comment section, just like the one under my own info window, had been flooded.
Stop lying.How does a human's dick grow that much in a single day?So where the hell is this place, anyway? — the thread was a minefield of filth-tier jokes that, posted anywhere else, would have gotten each and every commenter sued into the ground.
"What is even going on..."
My head spun. Worse, the comments were still climbing in real time.
And then one comment caught my eye.
Because there, in black and white, was a comment spelling out the address of the very place I was commuting to for work.
"Good god..."
Had my personal information seriously been ripped clean open in the space of one day?
More than that — apparently the place I worked was being called a Milking Ranch now. The name's origin, as best I could tell, was that it was a place stuffed full of dispensers who could be milked for semen like dairy cows. Not exactly inaccurate, but what could I even say — it was a space where they talked among themselves, so from the perspective of a dispenser like me who was secretly lurking and reading it, the name was cruelly, painfully over the line.
Then again, none of them could ever have dreamed that a dispenser was watching them do it, so I suppose that's why they felt free to.
"Sir? We've arrived. Um... excuse me, but..."
At the sound of the voice I jerked my head up. The orc driver was looking at me with an expression caught somewhere between awkwardness and genuine unease.
"Those people watching us from outside... do you happen to know them?"
At that, I looked out the window.
Countless eyes were staring back at me.
Truly, countless eyes.
"Motherfucker. Really."