"So, my hooves were bound to the SUV's bumper, and my pimp's got a rubber belt in his hoof." Jezebel chuckled, shaking her head as she glanced around room. "Worst of all, just worked a bachelor party, so you know I was sore!" The others in the room shifted uncomfortably, glancing away from the ewe.

Of course, they knew. They all knew what it meant.

To be so physically sore, and mentally abused, that in the end it's impossible to look in the mirror. To be used over and over again, no true time to recover, as john's marched one after the other with zippers undone and pricks hanging out. Everyone sitting in the circle knew what that was like, and many still experienced it.

Jezebel's smile waned as she looked at all the downtrodden faces. There were eight other mammals, all female, in different yet so similar outfits. Six of them were wearing "work" outfits, which were normally a tight-fitting dress or a short skirt with an eye-catching top. At first glance it all seemed impractical, but tight fabric didn't just tantalize but also didn't catch on quick exits. Short skirts could draw gazes, but also allowed it to stay on for rutting in the back of a married mammal's van. Pants were rarely worn, take too long to strip and the impatient john might just rip it off. The ewe learned early on that standing with ripped pants in the middle of a blizzard was a no go.

The other two wore what the sheep learned to be the go-to outfit for former prostitutes, sweats. It must have been because they were the exact opposite of what many of them used to wear. Baggy, bland, warm, and quite possibly the least sexy attire in Jezebel's humble opinion. She only seduced Saffron once in sweats, while even her ugly green pencil accomplished this feat twice! The sheep shook her head and pushed down that line of thinking. She needed to focus on getting girls to open up.

Jezebel hoped her story would loosen some lips and the group would start trading stories. It had the opposite effect, and her nervous mirth didn't help. Cherry was much better at this than the sheep, but the red fox texted earlier that she wouldn't be coming in. Leaving poor Jezz to run the place. Thankfully, one of their success stories Morgan was present. Even better, the sheep and the arctic fox had the same pimp, so she knew there was a story or two. The ewe straightened her plaid skirt, then turned to the vixen with a smirk and a raised brown.

"Morgan, doll, you got anything like that?"

Morgan was huddled into an overly large dark blue hoodie with a white, faded "Young Army" logo on the front. It covered her knees while she had pulled her arms through the sleeves, letting them lay limp on each side. The hood was pulled over her head, hiding her eyes, but the vulpine's white muzzle was poking out. Her black nostrils flared as the arctic fox turned to the sheep.

"W-Well there's that one time that I didn't meet quota…" Jezebel waved for the vixen to continue. Morgan shook her head, letting her hood fall back and revealing her pinned ears. Brown eyes nervously glanced around the room as the fox wiggled an arm into a sleeve and gave a quick wave to the group.

"Hello, my name is Morgan. I-I used to go by Icy...because well…" She shook her head, gaze falling to the floor. "A-Anyway, there was, uh, this one time that I didn't meet my pimp...Rameo's...quota…"

"And what happened?" Jezebel asked softly, leading the vixen further into the terrible experience. The ewe knew what happened, all of Rameo's girls knew.

"H-He made me t-t-take care of him…" Morgan replied, curling deeper into her hoodie as tears began to well, "A-and then he drove me t-to Z.C.C. campus an-and said t-that if I didn't get the two hundred I o-owed him...he'd...he'd…"

"Break both your arms..." Jezebel finished, gaze losing focus as bitter memories poured back, "...cause you don't need to spread them to rutt…"

Morgan broke down, crying and whining pitifully into her large hoodie.

The ewe was broken out of her stupor by the vixen's tears, blinking and giving her head a hard shake. "But honey, that ain't our lives anymore," Jezebel continued, trying to pull this depressing turn to positive, "We got outta that life, doll." The sheep looked around dramatically, catching each set of eyes in the room, "And all of you can too!"

A heavy silence filled the room, broken by one of the female's shifting in her seat. It was a new arrival, a roe deer in a violet sequin dress and lime green shawl. The herbivore's reddish-brown fur, and large brown eyes, contrasted with her outfit. She was thin, a little too thin, and had pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders. The doe opened her snout but stopped.

It hadn't been too long since Jezebel was working the corner, but the ewe could still spot fresh faces. She wasn't even sure what the name of the deer was, but it was obvious that the doe hadn't been in the game long. Maybe a few months, definitely less than the years other girls had under their garters. The sheep smiled and cocked her head innocently, "You wanna add something?"

The deer shifted nervously, then nodded. "Hello, my name is, uh, Holly." She shifted again, hunching her shoulders and making herself smaller. "My, uh, pimp...Joey three legs-"

Jezebel snorted, quickly covering her grin with a hoof. "Joey...three legs?" she questioned cautiously. Holly nodded, and a laugh escaped the ewe. "I'm sorry...it's just...Joey three legs!"

"Lemme guess," grumbled a grizzled leopard named Daisy, wearing a faded pink sequin skirt and white button down, "He says it's cause his dick's like a third leg."

"Doll you know that's not true!" Jezebel exclaimed, trying not to laugh at what will more than likely be a tragic story.

The deer squeaked, her hooves covering her snout as she tried to hide her building mirth. "I saw it," Holly choked out, tears building in the corners of her eyes, "An-and…" She bit her lower lip and held out a hoof. Two digits were stretched out wide to show Joey's length, but slowly the distance disappeared till there was no space between.

The girls all laughed.

Cherry finally woke up, head pounding and mouth dry. She blindly searched for her phone, still unwilling to open her eyes. Her paw landed on a familiar rectangle object, cold to the touch and denser than at first glance.

It was a box cutter.

More importantly for the fox, a tool turned personal weapon. Cherry had purchased the metal box cutter to help with the new shipments for Helping Paws, better to use a knife than break a claw, but one day it found its way back to the house. The vixen's dreams at times were terrifying, monsters of the past rearing their ugly heads, and having something other than her claws to defend herself helped her sleep. Finding this object was good news for Cherry, as it meant she made it home and wasn't in a random bed.

The fox groaned as she tried to rise, before collapsing back into her bed. It wouldn't have been the first time the vixen woke up in a foreign bed, but thankfully it hadn't occurred in some time. Of course, the last time she woke up in strange bed Helping Paws was created, though that was definitely an outlier outcome. Cherry crawled closer to the edge of the bed, head still pounding and eyes remaining closed. Eventually, the vulpine pulled herself over the edge, and tumbled head first to the floor. She let out another groan.

There was another rectangular object, though smoother and flatter, underneath the vixen's head. She grasped the item and lifted it gingerly above her face. Finally, Cherry cracked open a bloodshot, bleary blue eye to see her phone. The fox powered it on, only for a ten percent battery notification to pop up. She clumsily clicked past it and went straight for her messages. She let out a relieved sigh when her last message to Beatrice was at 7:17, roughly the time when they were trying to meet up. What was worrisome was a text from someone noted as "Tod."

"Cher, hd gr8 time lst nght. Let do agan soons"

Cherry frowned, her hungover brain trying to decipher the seemingly coded message. Eventually, she worked it out.

"Cherry, had a great time last night. Let's do it again soon."

"Makes more sense," grumbled the vulpine, covering her aching eyes with a paw, "but who the rutt is Tod?"

Broken memories of a russet figure drinking with the vixen floated to the front of her mind. They did a shot, possibly more than one, laughed at something, and then nothing. Cherry pinched her brow with a tired sigh. It wasn't a mammal named Tod, but a tod or male fox. When the vixen had a set client list, she wrote a one-word description of the male. Spots, stripes, horns, even something simple as yak could do. The idea was that if the cops ever got the phone, they wouldn't know any of the Johns identities. It was only with hindsight that the vulpine realized how dumb that idea was. Why would the Z.P.D. need a name when they would have a number and a description?

In any case this mysterious "Tod" didn't matter; Cherry would delete his number and be done with it. She clicked on the top right corner of the number, dropping down the delete and edit bar. The vixen hesitated. Jezz's suggestion of a one-night stand seemed much more in reach with a willing participant on speed dial. She bit her lip, torn on what to do.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a burp.

The rancid stench of digested alcohol shot up the fox's nostrils, causing her stomach to turn. Cherry groaned, turning onto her side as she tried to push herself up.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," she muttered. Another burp escaped the vixen, who felt bile rise in the of her throat. "I'm gonna be sick." Cherry concluded. She hoped no one was in the bathroom.

Jezebel wasn't good with the whole "talking" thing. Sure, she could flirt, convince, then idly threaten that the john needed to pay up or her pimp would get serious, but discussing mushy stuff like feelings and dreams were not in her wheelhouse. The sheep only did that with one mammal, Saffron, and that was because the tiger was the best thing to happen in her life! If she couldn't talk openly with the striped beauty, then who could she talk too? Which led the former working girl to her next problem.

Morgan.

The arctic fox had been doing so well. She started eating regularly, got a job at a local Bug Burger, and even shared an apartment with another former prostitute Azure. The vixen was doing so well…but now she looked like she had just got off the corner. Like the months of hard work that they all put in to get out of that wretched lifestyle never happened. The ewe needed to get to the bottom of it.

"Morgan, doll, can you wait a moment?"

The arctic fox gave Jezebel a puzzled look but nodded all the same. "Sure Jezz, what's up?"

Jezebel glanced at the other girls, but they were all heading to the door. No food or coffee this time, something the sheep needed to remember for next. She crouched to the vixen's level and placed a hoof on her shoulder.

"You ok, honey?"

Morgan grimaced and looked away, ears pinning back, "That obvious?"

"Last time I saw you, your manager talked to you about becoming a shift thingy." Jezebel said gingerly, studying the vulpine's downcast features, "What changed that doll?"

"Shift leader," mumbled Morgan, wrapping her still hidden arms around herself as her tail curled around her ankles, "It's like a supervisor, but I don't get paid as much…"

"Right, shift thingy…" The ewe sighed, and gave the smaller mammal's shoulder a squeeze, "So what happened?"

The arctic vixen remained silent, gaze still on the floor. The sheep was sure the fox wasn't going to speak, till Morgan whispered, "Do you think he'll come back?"

Jezebel bit down the urge to ask "who." There was only one male in either of their lives that the females feared. The ewe smiled confidently and moved her hoof from the fox's shoulder to her chin. "Hey, Morg, look at me." Morgan glanced up ashamedly. "He ain't coming back," the sheep assured, "We broke every bone in his body, remember?" The fox nodded. "And even if he does come back, it's gonna be in a wheelchair and me and Saff will push him down some stairs!" Jezebel forced a laugh out, and Morgan smiled weakly and nodded.

"You're right Jezz. I-I shouldn't be worried."

"Atta girl!" exclaimed the sheep, straightening up. She pointed at the door, "Now go get that shift thingy and make us proud!"

Morgan giggled, then jumped up to hug the ewe's midsection. "Thanks," she muttered into the sheep's woolly filled blouse.

Jezebel gave a one-armed hug to the vixen, smiling softly, "Any time doll."

Eventually Morgan let go and raced out the door to her next shift. The sheep stood in the middle of the room, a circle of empty chairs surrounding her, as memories of unending nights and cold clients played in her mind. Jezebel's left forearm ached, and she clasped a hoof over it where a break used to be. Rameo couldn't come back, they made sure of that. But...if he did. Jezebel clenched her arm tighter with a sneer. She would take care of him...

Permanently.

Mint picked at her dandelion salad. When she chose it from the school's lackluster lunch menu, it sounded appealing. Instead it was bland, and pretty much only dandelions. If the ewe had known that the naming was specific, she definitely would pick something else. The only thing that saved lunch period was the same thing that always saved lunch period.

Johann.

The snow leopard's grey fur was marked by black spots, some even slipping under his chin. He had rolled up the sleeves to his uniform and sweater, revealing thick forearms where his spots turned to ringlets with grey centers. Large, spotted paws gripped a half-eaten chicken sandwich. His pink tongue slowly, sensually, licked black, voluptuous lips, catching juices that tried to escape. Grey eyes with flecks of green staring with concern at the sheep. He opened his muzzle, flashing fangs that glistened in the light.

"You ok Min?"

Mint blinked, and feline's spell was broken. She had been caught very obviously staring and needed a distraction. The sheep shoveled a forkful of dandelions into her mouth, then tried to speak. "Neba bebba!" was the ewe's muffled reply.

Johann frowned, then shrugged and went back to his sandwich.

The female sighed internally, rubbing her thighs together underneath their table. She wouldn't admit it to Pep, but something about the leopard got her going! He was just so enticing! Those eyes, those arms, whatever he was hiding underneath those pants. One day Mint would find out!

...but how does a girl go about doing that?

Sure, there's the "throw yourself" method that the ewe had used on the streets, but she didn't want to be a piece of meat to Johann either! It wouldn't be her first time, that was sold off years ago, yet Mint wanted it to feel that way with the feline. She wanted the "proper" way that teenagers experienced sex, not the way she learned it. Still, the question remained of how to go about that.

"Hey Min, are you paying attention?"

Mint blinked again and shook her head. "Sorry doll, just lost in the wool."

"Doll?" chuckled Johann with a confused smile, "What happened to Spots?"

The ewe smiled apologetically, "Sorry, slip of the tongue! You're still my Spots!" The feline shrugged nonchalantly, and Mint stared back down at her salad. It really wasn't good.

"Do you have the new teacher?" asked Johann between bites.

Mint frowned and looked back at the leopard, "Which one?"

"Mister Whiteley."

The ewe froze, fork hovering above the dandelion greens. "O-Oh," Mint stuttered, suddenly finding it harder to breathe, "Y-Yeah...why?"

Johann shrugged, frowning as his gaze was focused completely on the sheep. "Just...asking…" He put his sandwich down on its plate and picked up a napkin. "He seems...nice…"

Mint looked back down at her lunch, only humming in response to the feline. Mr. Whiteley looked too much like him, but he hadn't acknowledged that he recognized the ewe. It's possible that Whiteley wasn't him, and that they simply looked the same. It seemed improbable, as the ewe would always remember the voice that whispered in her ear from behind.

"Say my name…"

A hoof grasped the sheep's left shoulder, and she let out a startled bleat.

"Whoa, didn't mean to scare you!"

Mint slowly turned to the all too familiar sounding mammal, and saw Mr. Whiteley standing above her smiling. She tried to remain still, not wanting to draw attention her and the teacher. His hoof gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before falling to his side.

"I heard my name and thought I'd come over," stated the ram cheerfully, gaze moving from the ewe to the leopard, "And I see two of my best students are the one's talking about me. What luck!"

"You have fifth period lunch Mister Whiteley?" Johann asked, returning to his sandwich.

"Yes, I do Mister Biralo!" exclaimed the older ram, "And I was hoping to use this time to assist any student who needs it." The teacher turned his attention to Mint with a sickly-sweet smile. "This goes for you as well Miss Baker!" Whiteley chuckled, giving the students a wave before heading off. "Just say my name, and I'll be there!"

Mint wanted to watch the ram depart but was frozen in place. Her gaze was locked onto her salad, knowing that she wouldn't finish the rest. Whiteley had to be him…but why hadn't he said anything to Mint? Could it be that he'd forgotten about the ewe? The sheep hoped that was true. That somehow, against all odds, Mint was just another passing student in the eyes of the ram.

Her stomach growled, and a dull pain began to throb in her midsection. Mint doubled over, holding onto her stomach as she pinched her eyes closed. "I don't feel so good…" she mumbled.

"O-Oh!" exclaimed Johann, his chair squeaking then falling back with a thud, "I-I need to get you to the nurse!"

Mint felt strong paws grasp her shoulders. The ewe opened her eyes and glanced to her right to see Johann holding her. The grim expression the feline wore showed more care and concern than the sheep had seen on any other males' face. He carefully guided her out of her seat and helped as she continued to hold her stomach.

"Must have been the salad," growled the leopard.

"Yeah…" muttered Mint numbly, leaning against the feline for support. Her gaze shifted around the room, as all eyes were on the pair as Johann helped her to the nurse's office. Out of the corner of her eye, the ewe saw Mr. Whiteley staring at them. His smile never wavered as they passed through the double doors and into the school's hallway. The female couldn't shake the ram's final words as she tried to burrow further into the leopard's side, hoping to escape.

"...say my name…"

Hello Readers,

Here's another chapter hot off the press! Let me know what you think!

-CG