Evening! Just wanted to give a quick heads up. So, this story will be dragged on for a few chapters. I'm thinking up to five for now, and maybe push it to ten if I don't feel creatively drained. This is my take of storytelling after a long period of 'exercise'. Consider this a mini-project of sorts. I hope you enjoy it. Don't evolve your Braixens, folks!
A few warning tags are in order. This story will deal with the more emotional side of prostitution, and may contain smut, trauma, manipulation, depression and/or anxiety, suggestions of suicide, violence and rape. Don't expect too much focus on lemon-y scenes as this is a mainly story-driven piece of fiction.
The room bustled with noise and vibrating thumps; its colours a harsh neon that did little to light up any of the furniture within. It was anyone's guess whether the couches were pink, red, blue or whatever's in between. The only proper lighting came from four spotlights, two pink and two yellow, that swerved around the stretched chin-high platform in a most nauseating way. There was an abundance of different people having a whale of a time in this sickening place; the majority were human men or male Pokemon of roughly humanoid size if not impish in stature. As for the females, nought but a single tomboy were of human descent. Most were bipeds, though quadrupeds weren't disallowed either. Of course, those on four legs were considered a bit more niche than the rest of the ladies.
A strip-club. A place where the wretched went to entertain and sully themselves with drinks and women far out of most's league. Many of the folks who attended this place would drown themselves with liquor before long, not wanting to feel guilt for their lustfulness. A morbid sight, but true nonetheless.
A human wearing a pristine leather coat stepped into the establishment and blended in seamlessly without act nor fancy. The lights kept the focus off him; not that he was of any more significance than the next spectator.
He made a beeline for the bar table and sat down on a high stool. Manning the bar was a tallish fox-like humanoid. A Delphox.
"Evening, Carrie," the man said, ordering a shot with a hand gesture.
The Delphox, Carrie, smiled, humming sensually. He'd barely hear her over the ruckus and ear-splitting music. "Hey, handsome. I was worried you wouldn't come again," she said, pouring him the drink slowly and methodically. She used the time turned away to sway her hips to and fro at the rhythm of the music.
The sir gave her a disapproving glance, taking his rain-covered coat off and resting it on his lap. "And miss this? For what else in the world?"
Putting three shots in front of him, the fox leaned closer. An obvious attempt to get his attention. "You'll have to speak up, honey~"
Ignoring her advances, he nudged his head in the direction of a Hawlucha, who waited impatiently to his right. Carrie gave the human a cold look and rolled her eyes, getting off the counter to better serve her new customer.
This was common practice here. These girls had to suck up to these gullible blokes as best they could to squeeze as much money as possible off them. To the more competitive and experienced lasses, it was a game.
Downing two shots and leaving the third for the Hawlucha to enjoy, the man paid his tab and hopped off his seat, walking off towards the main event. A lounge with dozens of cushy seats outfitted the centre of the large room, and to the opposite end of the entrance, the dancer's floor took all light and attention; two poles near its closest edge. Commonplace equipment for a place like this.
The girls who worked here varied in size, be it due to the nature of their species or just genetics in play. There was a strong variety to choose from, among which were Gardevoirs, Lopunnies, a Dewott named Stacy, a Zoroark whom everyone nicknamed 'Mommy'... Arceus that last one made him cringe often. There were others, of course. This place seemed to fit almost any taste. For the more exotic appetites, there too was a Vaporeon, a Ninetails and an Absol, though these few were scarcely seen in public. The people who came here were sick enough to watch Pokemon strip dance, but heavens forbid they walk on four legs. It could get the wrong attention.
The bloke sat down on one of the lovely armchairs provided, trying to forget the noise of the other men and admire the show. A Lopunny was working the poles. They always managed it better than the others — so he thought, anyway.
He had become well acquainted with how this place operated by now. One or two girls would dance for the crowd for roughly five minutes each. On special events, up to a dozen girls would rehearse something extraordinary. The really popular girls got the pleasure of hearing screams and hollers when they stepped in. It just so happened the lapines were among the top favourites.
"I feel bad for their ears. Poor things."
Whilst the poles were worked on, roughly six other high-value workers would help provide drinks for the spectators. If you had the right charm—or more importantly, the cash—you might even snag a lap dance. They may be commonplace in other clubs, but this place was exclusive.
But no. That's not what the man was here for. Not this time.
A Gardevoir slinked over to the man's seat, wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing herself into the back of his head. Of all the Pokemon nationwide, only Gardevoirs seemed to possess human-like breasts. They were never of impressive size, and scientists scratched their heads as to what purpose they actually fulfilled. The best conclusion they could come up with was that adaptation into a human society had marked their long term evolution towards an even more anthropomorphic shape. Perhaps to entice caretaking and increase survival rates? Nature was a mystery, but it worked out sometimes. Poor Cheetahs. They really got cheated.
The man hummed contently at the display of affection, letting his arms rest comfortably on the seat's armrests. The Gardevoir gave his temple a kiss, before dropping down to nibble on his earlobe.
"You're here for the arrangement with Daddy, Big Zee?" she said. That was his own little nickname around these parts. He was no main player, but he had gotten at least a bit of notoriety from his frequent visits and 'contributions'. More so than these apish morons.
"Yes. Let him know I'll be there in a minute."
"Right away, mister Zee~," the Gardevoir said most tenderly, her hands gliding over his chest. A few provocative whistles came from behind her, and a slap met her rear from a less-than-polite customer. She yelped and turned to face the harasser.
"I want no part in this mess," 'Zee' thought, standing up before he could hear the impending argument. He reached the dance platform and rested his elbows on it, looking up at the majesty of the Lopunny's performance. Despite the sexual nature of her moves, it was all so fluid. Her appealing features might be the apple in the spectators' eyes, but this man marvelled instead at the beauty and grace of her expertise. It's as if she could defy gravity with but the strength of her legs.
A Tsareena put her hand on his shoulder, draping a leg over his. "Want some time-out with me, sugar?"
'Zee' chuckled, shaking her leg off. "No, missy. I'm all booked."
With a frustrated grunt, the plant-based creature walked off to seduce some other fool. God, he could hate this place sometimes. This facade of tender love and care lost its weight when the monetary gain behind it was understood. It felt so shallow. So hollow.
This was enough. Dropping a bill onto the dancer's stage, who sent him an air kiss, 'Zee' went off to join the VIP room he had so recently gained access to. A Midnight Lycanroc and a Bisharp guarded the entrance. A quick look was all it took for them to allow his entry.
The first thing 'Zee' could appreciate upon entering the room was the slight noise reduction. They loved blasting their music here. He'd go deaf at this rate.
In this room was the most lavishly decorated bed he'd ever seen. Red was a predominant colour, along with blacks and whites. The bed itself was lined with silky cloths, not unlike the bed of a princess. Resting on its mattress, cozy as a cloud, was a human in a fabulous magenta coat topped with tufts and patterns containing their club's logo as well as poker diamonds. On his eyes rested a pair of round, black shades, adding to his unorthodox appeal. His skin looked a rich cream which was likely buttery smooth to the touch. The grin on his face was so alluring it could disarm anyone. He looked so charmed with himself. So happy with his life. It was despicable to look at.
The freakshow laid placidly on his bed, his belt unbuckled, one leg outstretched, the other bent with the knee toward the ceiling. The sole Zoroark of this establishment cradled him on her large yet feminine frame, and two young and dainty pale-haired Gardevoirs slept soundly by his sides.
The disgusting grin on his face only grew as 'Zee' stepped in, waiting patiently for his presence to be noticed. The prick on the bed lived in a bubble.
"Oh, we~elcome darling! Oh— I'm so glad you could make it old friend. Aloha! Welcome, welcome," the pale man said, his arms extended in joy.
He spoke so slowly. It was irritating.
"I'm here. I see things are still running smoothly down here?"
The quality of the conversation didn't matter. So long as he said something.
"Hm, I know, right? I've been so pleased with my little ladies. Och, just the other day I was told a man left his wife to come here more often! A silly and likely false anecdote, I do imagine—"
"Can we cut to the chase?" 'Zee' interjected, raising an idle palm. "I've much to get done by week's end."
The pompous prick's smile fell, and his arms scrunched down as his joy was silenced. Clearing his throat, that grin returned.
"Ri~ight, the ordeal. I trust you understand your purpose in this… experience~?"
'Zee' said nothing.
"Hmhm, we'll clear this lost little lamb's path for him then, shall we Momma?" the nobleman said, looking up to scratch the Zoroark's chin. She murred, wrapping her arms around his belly and toying with the iron on his belt with a claw.
A repulsive sight to say the least.
"Ri~ight then. Ahem. Cinder, my little matchstick! Could you be a sweet and show yourself?" he said, barely raising his voice. It was clearly loud enough as, within seconds, a Braixen revealed herself from behind a second door in the room.
She looked like a tender little thing, with a big red ribbon wrapped around her tail and a small black collar lining her neck. The collar had a thin chain attached to it which she held in her paws with utmost care. Her face was red with embarrassment and her eyes were glued to the floor as she took timid, slow and quiet steps towards the man on the bed, bending over slightly to give his presented hand a gentle kiss. The man known by his workers as 'Daddy' gave a humoured susurration, letting her upright herself and turn to 'Zee'.
With a hand in the Braixen's direction, the sick bastard gave another of his smiles. "This cutesy is called Cinder. I believe she's what we agreed upon in our arrangement? If not, I can always call in another girl. I have a full house of bipeds tonight~"
'Zee' shook his head. "No. This is what we agreed on; it works."
"Hm~m, very good. Just remember: she's inexperienced. You don't have to do anything with that information, but try~y to keep it in mind~"
Cinder kept staring at the floor, unable to face either of the men. The wicked freak gave her a soft look that screamed murder.
"Go on," 'Daddy' said, "Go with the nice man. He'll show you a lovely time, I'm sure~"
The Braixen shuffled her legs together, but she stayed still. A tear welled up in her eye.
"Cinder, baby," he warned.
"Y—Yes, Daddy. R—Right away."
The Braixen took a deep breath and finally stepped forward until she stood beside 'Zee'. He looked so scary to her. Could she be paired with a more suspicious-looking man?
'Zee' looked at her as she offered him her chain with trembling paws. He took it, giving it a testing yank. "Perfect. This should work well."
"Hm~m! So I trust you're satisfied, old friend~?" the bastard who owned this place said, taking a wine cup which was quickly topped by his Zoroark assistant.
"Yes. Negotiations will go as planned."
"Oh, that's wonderful, sweetie~! Just wonderful~," the noble said, grabbing the kitsune's mane and pulling her maw to his lips. "Do have fun~"
And like that, the door was closed. To prevent workers from getting in trouble during these exchanges, an 'emergency exit' had been installed into the headmaster's quarters. These were said to be built to keep him safe, but truth be told, it was for a far more scandalous reason.
Now outside, the man and the Braixen he had gained control over were soon to be coated in rain. A car park was just in front of them, and so they made haste for his vehicle — an expensive sports car at that. Cinder was allowed off her leash for a brief moment as she moved over to the opposite side of the car. She could've just as easily made her escape then, but to his lack of a surprise, she sealed her fate by taking her seat, allowing the chain back into her buyer's grasp. Just more proof of how brainwashed these women had become in that hellhole.
The rain splashed down on the car's windshield as seconds went by. 'Zee' stared out at the blurred night city outside and leaned his head against the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and then gagged. He opened the car door a moment as he spat bile outside. He noticed her staring at him. The poor thing.
"Too many pills," he explained, slotting his key into the ignition and turning it. The motor roared, and soon enough they were on their way.
See, dances were a luxury few could afford. It was expensive enough in normal clubs, but in places like these? Where the collide between law and morals was all the worse? You may as well give up your kidneys while you're at it. But believe it or not, it didn't end there. Customers who had the resources to experience such unusual wonders might just come back. And once they've spent at least a few dances on the girls available to them, they might just get a little too excited.
For this reason, a few incidents came and went. Inappropriate touching was, ironically, not permitted on the business' floors. That would never change either, as it was one of the many crucial laws businesses like these had to follow no matter what.
But where there was desire, there was desperation. And that meant a whole lot more when good money was on the table. That's how the 'overtime' shift came to be. Only a few people even know it's an available service, and fewer can afford it. But if you've got the goods to spend and a good word with the head of the place, you might be able to take things to a whole other level — always off palace grounds of course, and with a non-disclosure agreement you take to the grave. God help you if you don't.