#26 Bunny Girl Magical Girl (Black's Club Service) (1)
"Seriously... you want me to wear this?"
"What's wrong? It's better than being naked, isn't it?"
"...Naked would be better."
Black gives a troubled look as she speaks.
She's currently dressed in what they call a bunny girl suit.
She'd thought it was odd when they brought her not to her usual room, but to the changing room...
"Starting today, you'll be working the floor too. You need to wear the proper server uniform."
"The floor..."
It's a place Black hasn't seen yet. Ever since she was confined here, she's only gone back and forth between the prison cell, the showers, the rooms prepared for sex, and occasionally the office where the 'Underdog' members gathered.
She'd only caught snippets of sounds passing through the corridors or vague stories about it...
"No need for much makeup—you're pretty enough without it—but a little touch-up is only polite. I'll send in a stylist, so wait here quietly."
"W-wait a second. This feels a bit small. Can't I get something else?"
"It fits perfectly. If it were any bigger, your nipples and bush would be showing."
The man brushes off Black's complaint and leaves the room.
Black checks her reflection in the mirror with a troubled expression.
Her shoulders and cleavage are fully exposed, and her high-cut legs are wrapped in stockings.
The latex material clings tightly, just a bit too small as she'd said, giving it a snug feel.
It's not uncomfortable, but the way it presses into her flesh accentuates her curves... and worst of all, it doesn't quite cover her crotch, leaving her feeling exposed.
Above all, one wrong move and disaster strikes—like the zipper in the back popping open on its own...
It's her first time in a bunny girl outfit, and after days without clothes, wearing something feels strangely off-putting.
If it's going to distract her this much, she'd rather just be naked... not that she should be thinking that...
As Black fiddles with the suit here and there, the stylist she'd been told about enters the changing room.
Surprisingly, the stylist is a woman...
A thumping thud-thud-thud-thud echoes through the air.
Mixed in are harsh electronic sounds like sizzling electricity, grating on the nerves.
Black is now in that very floor she'd heard about.
Still in her bunny girl suit, tray in one hand, she weaves through the crowd.
The dim space lit by flashing colored lights, blaring music, and chatter reminds her of clubs she's heard about (though she's never been to one).
The differences? Thick smoke everywhere, and the patrons and girls don't look quite human.
Some have beast-like heads, mechanical arms or legs. Even the humanoid ones are two or three times bulkier than average Earthlings.
Others have six arms or mouths on both face and belly—like bipedal humanoids with alien parts grafted on.
The Mech拉克 she'd seen on the surface had some similar residents, but most looked close enough to humans.
Come to think of it, this 'Underdog' place handles illegal body mods too. Maybe they're all customized here with whatever parts they wanted.
The serving girls are similarly exotic. Beauties by both Black's and Mech拉克 standards.
Alien planet women.
The ones on the surface had been mostly human-like... maybe ears or tails, odd pupils, slightly longer tongues—minor differences.
But these? Stark contrasts. Thick, eye-catching tails; entire lower bodies as tails; arms as wings; fur-covered beastly forms...
Black doesn't know much, but these women aren't supposed to be here—importing or handling them is forbidden in this city.
They're special-class, only traded in Mech拉克's central city, Central City. They shouldn't be seen here.
Dealing in them is straight-up illegal. Hiring them is bad enough; smuggling them in must involve all sorts of crimes.
"Oh, new girl? Ears and tail look decorative—no scales or fur... Earthling? But not your average one...? Hey, lower that mask a bit?"
"...Excuse me."
One patron strokes his chin, analyzing Black as she sets down drinks and mystery leaf-wrapped stuff.
Fearing her identity might slip, Black hurriedly places the items and flees.
Getting outed as a Magical Girl wouldn't end well.
Plus, she's masking the lower half of her face as instructed.
Luckily, no major incidents while working.
Seems you can't just grope the servers willy-nilly. This place has its own rules.
Still, some sneak grabs at her ass or arms when no one's looking. Or verbal harassment.
She has to endure the minor touches and teasing silently.
'Labor is joy. Labor is joy. Work gives life meaning. If you're born human, you must work. Work, work, work...'
The crowd keeps her surprisingly busy.
Wasn't she the type who hated work, thought workers were losers? But whenever that thought surfaces, the implanted 'joy of labor' surges up, shoving it away.
Yeah. Work is joy. Labor is bliss. So she dives in with even more zeal.
While hustling around the floor, one of the Underdog members calls Black over.
Then drags her straight to the central stage.
Caught off-guard, Black freezes like stone under the onslaught of stares.
"W-what... why... how...?"
As Black panics, the manager who put her up there strolls over with a mic.
"Good evening, gentlemen, and welcome to Underdog! Tonight, we're taking a quick moment to introduce our newest helper! Just a bit of your attention, please!!"
Wooooh!!
Are they high? The crowd roars enthusiastically.
Intrigued eyes fix on the MC manager and the bunny girl Black beside him.
Black stiffens further.
The manager gives an exaggerated but concise intro.
Revealing Black as a Magical Girl, then yanking off her mask—sending the patrons into even wilder frenzy.
Once his bit's done, Black takes the mic for her self-intro.
Blushing furiously, she stammers her name, measurements, kinks, sensitive spots—everything.
After, she dances vulgarly flashing her pussy, strikes embarrassing poses, and caps it with a public masturbation show.
Humiliation piled on humiliation.
At first, she resists inwardly—"I can't do this!"—but her body moves on its own. And as time passes, the pleasure from her own hands swallows her up.
Even through the shame, it feels weirdly good, shivers racing through her... orgasming harder than usual, somehow. She thinks...
Performance Lewd Addiction
You derive special pleasure from lewd, embarrassing displays in front of crowds. The more eyes on you, the greater the ecstasy.
Lewd Attention Seeker
In crowded places, you feel an irresistible urge to flaunt yourself publicly in lewd ways.
After her onstage masturbation frenzy, Black visits each table for more service.
Touching still forbidden, but she climbs atop tables for sexy poses they can ogle, pours drinks, whispers filthy words in ears at their request.
She pours her heart into pleasing the patrons.
Labor is so fulfilling. Her worthless slutty body exists only to delight them—and it fills Black with immense pride.
'......?'
Pride... yeah... feels good... satisfying... so satisfying...