Jaune slept good, despite the rough time getting sleep in the first place. Somebody was a bit of a distraction last night.
The world outside, the deserts and all, were cold at night. So cold, that he had to snuggle into the bedsheets like a baby. It's no wonder the palace chambers had no air conditioning, there wasn't any point. The goddamn world around them was bipolar, and because of that?
Sometimes technology was better off thrown out the open windows. Faunus people usually learned to tolerate the temperatures anyways.
Jaune will remember them, somehow. They've housed him pretty alright.
He peaked from the mound of bedsheets, and smiled, as the morning sun began its rise. Coloring the sky a neat pinkish red. A phenomenon that's pretty much commonplace here. And also the usual sign to get-up and continue that day of production for most. The markets don't run themselves, and someone always needed a foodstuff here and there.
Already, the hustle and bustle of the little people's commotion went on. People setting up their food stalls. Blabbering their sales pitches to equally babbley customers. Followed by the hollering of happy kids on their way to class...
Menagerie was coming alive much like he did, and it made him smile-
But a hand made him jolt, as it rubbed a nice circle into his shoulder. It's brought a feeling of security over him. Making him shudder into the surprise back-attack.
Immediately, it relaxed himself of all the early morning tightness. It felt like becoming memory foam, which was half-way through reforming.
Which came back somewhat, when he felt those claws of hers digging into his shoulder blade. Just cuz she could, probably.
Wasn't all that bad either. Just some red lines. Scratchy love claws couldn't break his Aura all that easy, he's sure of it.
Sienna herself-the grumpy cat she was-confirmed that his Aura was fucking fertile. Whoever and whatever gave him that, he owes many thanks.
Either way, he's been enjoying his time here. Regardless of Sienna claiming him a POW that didn't deserve his Aura unlocked. As though he's some agent of a super nation of human supremacists, coming to colonize the populace.
Which is probably why the High Guard-palace guard too, but whatever-thought the same.
He's just blessed to have a furry compadre who kept the grumpy one and her cohorts fucked off for the most part. Otherwise, he'd definitely be publicly hanged by now.
Speaking of friendly Faunus...
When he glanced over, Kali was there. A cheeky smile on her beautiful and dusky face. She didn't stop tending to his joints, and he groaned at the comfy care. it's like she got some sorta kick off him doing so, humming to herself in curiosity.
"You're thinking, Jaune." She whispered, eyes a golden sunshine. He liked it more than the real thing. "You're always thinking. What's on that lovely mind of yours~?"
He paused, as she slowed down her ministrations, and turned to the window. The open window, without glass or anything since, ya know, it's a hotbox everywhere.
Some birdies went flying overhead, chirping their songs to the Faunus. Who continued marathoning the day's work down below. A collective, in both identity and ideology.
He's sure they haven't a fucking clue about how economically stable they are. Their free markets and secure racial community identity thingy included.
It made him think, and think hard.
"...Progress." He mumbled. "It's progress, Kali. It's always progress."
She laughed. It was mature, but all the sweeter for it-
/-/
He awoke, and gasped.
Stimulation, he was feeling it. And he-groggy and confused-sat up a bit on the bed. Leaning on his elbows and taking a good look around.
His clock said six in the morning, and that was early. What's the-
Jaune blinked at the bobbing lump under the sheets, and the noises it made. Full of slurping and spitting, which he's sure is affecting him, as something felt really good.
Groaning to himself, he lifted the sheets-
And found Tabby underneath, curled up in-between his legs.
Kneeled, with her chest smushed against his thighs. They were warm and fleshy pillows meshing their forms together. His lower form more so.
She presented her butt up high, while her tail flicked side to side. That fluffy appendage exactly like the pointy ears curled into her frizzy hairline. Unconsciously twitchy, and prone to flop against herself.
She did that whenever enjoying things, or when being preoccupied with things.
And, uh-
"Tabby," he hissed, leaning into her mouth, as it came down to the base. The once muffled slurping now a messy symphony of pleasure. Bubbling thin lips against the golden throne guarding his base. It left her face covered in spit, as though someone dunked her in sticky glue. Only clearer, and sexy as fuck.
She was moist. Her entire body was moist yet soft, like a fluffy bronze-sun.
"Whats?-"
Her hands were on him. Running her catty claws across his surface, from chest to lap. His guard-and Aura-was down, but he's surprised at the touch. Those lines of buzzy pain she gave him; like lines of chalk, drawn in spades.
Which she did again, and again, and again. Slowly and sensually. In rhythmic movements.
The other hand, whenever she didn't switch them, kept busy with his cupped member. It got tended and kneaded proper, while those same claws raked him a lot more gently compared to his achy chest. She knew the sensitivity.
All this touchy-touch, intervaled between her determined licks and sucks at his tip. And she dedicated the sloppy room remaining to grope cock and ball even closer. Her chin clumped atop it, tickling his pubic hair.
Sliding back up, slowly...
He moaned. "Y-You…"
She's done this before, he's starting to remember now. The grogginess and old memories were already going out the window. His closed window, as this wasn't Menagerie, but his and Murdock's research island. He thinks...somewhere off the coast of Vale? Everything was pleasure right now-
He saw her golden eyes-those golden eyes, fuck-blaring into him. Dilated yet dull. Large things that numbed themselves into his-probably spooked-ocean blues. Nothing but duty and subservience, milking his weakness as much as his ween.
After another leg-shaking round of choking him down her throat, she pulled up with a small gasp. Purring on his length between breathy pants. Using the non-scratching hand to slide down low, below his thighs and-
He felt something prodding, and froze.
She purred with more control, putting her technique to use. Tongue lolling itself down his length, and against the throbbing veins running up it. That watery breath making his sticky flesh feel things he's not ready for at six in the morning.
He groaned, and leaned his chin on his chest, getting a eye-full of her pleasure. And his, too. Especially his.
Already, he saw his bulbous head going red, and that slippery tongue now looping around it. Slurping the skin up like the world's meatiest popsicle. Humming at the way it throbbed in her mouth. The fullness made her sound a bit older.
It's that chaotic energy of youth, mixed in with natural control. Much like-
Jaune realized something.
This was going on for awhile now, hours at the latest.
It made him shudder, as the surprise oral happy times was getting him good. Like, too good-
"Cum." She monotoned, face flushed. Yet her naturally stern face betrayed none of it. Demanding as much as accommodating, while her voice hummed against him. "Cum. Cum lots for Tabby, Myaster Jaune~"
Scratch that, he had to let go.
Literally, she was scratching, and the pain sadly made it better. It's been a few days and-
He came, lots.
Tabby recaptured the proverbial fountain-top right before the first spurt. Nursing from his length right there, atop his hips. Running boney digits up his pulsing ball-sack, by her pointy claw's edge. As though removing the stop gates to an overflowing river.
Only there wasn't a gate, but his penis. With his cum coating her throat like a winter wonderland. In heavily, shuddery spurts, one thrust at a time.
She hummed over his moans too, and that probably made him bust that nut all the more.
When his major flow tapered off, she pulled away, jerking the leftover goodies out. Like a machine, a fleshy machine of her program's action.
She didn't take the final bits in her throat, though, instead they coated her sticky face. Two bursts of the cloying stuff hit her left eye, and the rest gave her a scuffed 'milk' mustache.
She flinched at the sticky situation, but seemed to like it. Maybe? There is a blush there.
Catgirls really don't have inherent emotions, not included with their programming. As one of the first Betas made, Tabby didn't get those shits programmed into her either. All she could do was receive, give, and think based on those needs.
And that's why she's here, snuggled comfortably in-between his shaky lap, with a stomach full of his cum. Heated face glistened with the remaining juices of his release. Licked and prodded off several seconds later.
"Myah…" she mumbled, fingering a glob in her mouth, purring at the taste. "Myahn~, it's good. It's very good..."
He shuddered, as his elbows gave out from under him, and he forced himself to relax. Raking that brain of his for answers.
"Yeah, uh…" he started, watching as his Tabby pumped and sucked his sensitive member clean. Trading saliva for sperm, and wincing when those lips puckered around him. "I sure fuckin' hope it is. S-Shit. Why'd you do that?"
She popped off, letting the dulling erection flop on her cheek. Her hands finished doing their thing, now focused on rolling his foreskin around. Tampering with the cock-slit too, much to his continual shaking and shuddering.
"It's Sunday, Myahster. You told me to service you on Sundays."
"...Oh," he grabbed his face, and his chalky scratched chest. Things are coming back now.
"Right. 'Kay. I gotcha. Thanks for that, Tabby."
She purred in contentment, he sighed.
"Can you tell me today's schedule too? I'm drawing a blank here."
Before Tabby answered that, she sat up, letting her ample chest bounce back in place. Holding herself, and sat up on her haunches amongst the bed sheets. Fluffy blue blankets cascading around her.
He's a rational person, mostly. But even he, recovering from his orgasm still, could see she's an orange ball of fuzz and sex appeal
"Yes. Meowster Schnee and his family are on their way to the island. You scheduled this two weeks after meeting at his manor. You promised to show him the laboratory of creation."
He paused, numbly trying to brush past that mobird naming scheme. Her and the others began calling the lab that almost instantly after the first few popped out. They sometimes sung to it too.
It's...a bit of a problem, the 'religiousness' of them. Because it'd mean they can develop their own subcultures independently, ish. And those subcultures were like…
Something looking a lot like 'hierarchical catgirl fundamentalism', maybe? Based both on intelligence and physical size their DNA programming stuff gave them.
Except, it's probably not so cool sounding to the rest of society...for now...
Murdock said it's the secondary effects of fluid programming giving them a scuffed free will. They can think and do based on what they're told, given the amount of quality DNA sludge Murdock gives them. Enough of the stuff lets them express and think for themselves, but too little of it? They're kinda dumb
Though, considering it's supposed to serve her 'Myaster', it's not like Tabbys doing anything bad. If he assumed what he does isn't inherently bad in the first place.
So he shrugged, and kicked his legs off to and over the bedside with a tired groan. Holding his hands over his stinky, sex ridden lap.
"I did, yeah." He mumbled, hunched over himself. "It's uh...bout at twelve or so for when their bullhead's to arrive, I think."
She hummed. "Are you uncertain?"
"No-no, it's just an overnight flight or whatever. Guesstimating from the last time I saw Mr. Schnee's bigass mustache and all that."
Another hum, but he shrugged it off.
"Yeah, anyways...we talked a bunch on this stuff over the weeks, and he's told me about his business, Tabby." Still hunched, he glanced over. "He said the Faunus he's hired are getting paid much better now, without having to work more. Getting a 'percentile' above minimum wage by Atlas standards, so the old man says." He licked his lips, and nodded slowly to himself. "I checked too, and apparently? It's doing wonders for their public ratings, online or otherwise. Who'd ah thunk?"
Not Tabby, it seemed, as she went silent on him.
He smiled. "Plus, after talking to his wife, he wants to take her and his two youngest kiddos over here too. The whole family bonding schtick." If he didn't have jelly-legs, Jaune'd laugh. "It's like he's going through a reverse midlife crisis."
The old man's weakness was interesting, but the fair treatment stuff was what he first hyped about. Because even if Jaques's inventions were genuine or not? Those wage hikes still helped the working poor get outta poverty better. Just the little things that rebranded the Schnee slash ELON super conglomerate into something more progression based. Keyword progression.
And sure. It sounded stupid, even through the TimeFace they did on his scroll a few nights ago. But Jaune's not one to judge, he's got indentured cat servants.
Yet he also respects real women and minorities or whatever. So it's good.
"His children?" he heard Tabby mumble.
"Yeah. Boy and girl sorta my age. The older one's kinda dedicated herself to the state, and doesn't like the fact her father's a tyrant."
"Tyrant?"
"Bad people." He chuckled, and shuddered, as he felt another wave of euphoria-though kinda dulled-slip in. "Oppressive people to those who matter. I only work with Jaques because he's rich and convenient."
"...I see…"
Crawling over on all fours, his Tabby came to him, tail swishing. "You remember now, Myaster. Why did you first forget?"
"...Oh, uh." Those eyes were on him again. He recovered quick. "I was dreaming."
"About Kali?" She said, without any hesitation.
He stared.
She leaned into him, draped over his shoulder. "You talk about her, in your 'dreaming.'"
A pointy claw, that the sexy-time moment prior carved into his skin, came to his cheek.
"I don't know what those are, but they sound happy. Happy and sad, for your Kali. Like you're getting something real, realer than me." She held the claw there. "I get this experience whenever I touch you. You call for her and not me."
"Huh...I do?"
"Yes. it's always 'Kali, yes' and 'you're amazing Kali.'" The voice was tight. "Even when I have you inside me, you do this. "
He gave her his undivided attention now, and tried to respond-
But she leaned over him from his hunch, sliding past his shoulder and meeting his eyes.
"It's never anyone else besides the Great Mother, and I wonder if I do good. If i'm a good 'side-Kali' for Myaster Jaune's pleasure, and no one else's."
...His finger went up, and not his emptied weiner, this time.
"Would you feel bad if I said mostly no? Like, if I grade you eight Kali's out of ten?"
"No. I can't. You can't make me bad."
"Why tho?"
She blinked. "I...supposed it's not a bad feeling. It's more of an error. I made an error in my application, because you don't cum for me like you do for Kali, yes?"
"...Maybe-"
"So, I am a poor comfort and stress relief, compared to the origin." She droned, bringing the claw down a peg, to his collarbone. "My purpose then remains unfulfilled to some crucial degree. And thus, I am left to question the validity of my existence. If you don't cum the best for me, your assigned comforter, why breathe?"
All this, while a dull stare went into his eyes. A slight squint in them.
It's been almost a year now, and yet he's still shook at the obsessive robot she usually acted like. But he did know, deep down, that it's the programming taking effect again, as that's her purpose.
Him, and his limp dick, atop emptied balls.
These catgirls weren't human. Or Faunus. Able to value themselves to nothing but fucking cumshots going down their throat. He thought of them like servants for that exact reason. Faunus are animal people too, but they weren't this kind of animal people. They can think independently of biological supercomputers.
Oh, and pay taxes. Not that he's experienced with the latter-
"You never mentioned this before…?"
"Because I never had this opportunity, Myaster." She leaned, less tighter than earlier. "Now, at this moment, I can express myself for you. The Great Creator called this 'conversation' and 'socialization.'"
...Right, she was a fluid creature...-thing. Thoughts went through her head, but only of the goal ingrained in her DNA stuff.
Murdock told him Tabby's programing revolves around his satisfaction. Social things, like talking and emotional stability, are part of that. It's no wonder why she's so weird about being with him. Tabby's just following orders.
Getting comfortable with that idea, he smiled, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. When he pulled away, the natural sternness was still there, but those cheeks looked way too red for normal. Her touchy-touch receptors were basically the stuff of virgins, yet the expressions?
Nah. Not even close. It's like Sienna's, but his dick didn't immediately shrivel up.
She locked eyes at him, and they seemed fuller, more lively and attentive. Not expressing anything in particular, neither making herself look inanimate.
That's odd. Like, really odd. Actual fucking people can't do that. Or worse, they can. But as a bad faith actor 'n shit.
So he's always debating himself about that look, and personality. Whenever seeing her look less like meaningless DNA-gunk monstrosity, and more present. As though If he did something to her, something would happen. Unlike a plastic sex doll, with blow-up boobies. The kind you bought online at someone else's corporate conglomerate.
She's a receptive catgirl programm thingy, he'll give Murdock that.
And since he'd like to not abuse the pussy he's made? Jaune figured to do something good for her. Him too, sorta.
It fueled his hopes to help others when things go right for him, and that means making things right for others too. Which sure, isn't all that heroic on paper, but that's relative, fake, and fucking homosexual.
He's figured something out, after exploring their wide world of Sanus. Particularly about huntsmen stuff, as he talked with many in lodges on the down-low. Hearing their war stories and Grimm excursions, and how they dealt with these as required. What 'hero' meant to them in a proper context. Or in actuality, as most of them have done something others would call 'heroic' in their lifetime.
And all things considered? Heroism on paper is bullshit.
The only way to be that goddamn 'knight in shining armor' is to work towards your own self interests. Incidentally, if you do so, it gets you producing shittons of good for everyone. In every way imaginable. Regardless if you're that huntsman-brat who's daddy works for Signal or not.
Free systems of being, trade, and individualism, tend to separate wheat from chaff. Meaning that he's then better off out here, living out his dreams of catgirl-distribution. Spending four long years in service to the big Beacon wasn't gonna do his person any good. Both mentally and physically. In the short term at least.
So, in better words: it's Capitalism in a nutshell.
The greater good is the only good, and the government should really fuck off for the most part. No heroes get manufactured by shitty governing bodies, and heroism itself isn't genetic. Instead, it comes from the heavens, as a spiritual kind of virtue. No statist-shill could tell him otherwise.
So he shrugged, and told his personal cat waifu what's up.
"It's okay to not be perfect, Tabby." He tilted his head. "Kali is a good friend of mine who you shouldn't compare yourself to. Even if you think of her as a mother."
"But I do." Tabby pressed, in many squishy ways. Her nipples were pleasant pinpricks on his shoulder blade. "She is the original, the pure-born organic. I want to please you like she does-"
"Right, but, she's her own person. You're…" He dropped the smile, perplexed. "Something, I think."
"Something good?"
"Yeah."
"Something like Kali?"
"Yeah, duh. I kinda had you and the others made from her." He blinked, then furrowed his brows. "Which doesn't mean that-"
"Would you have me like her?"
"...Ye-wait, come again?"
She shifted, and he felt something all alright. A burning wetness down under, humping itself against his lap in needy rutts. Robotic, yet determined.
"Would you fuck me like you did The Great Mother?" She whispered, hand rubbing circles over her stomach. "Can you cum deeper? Can you breed me?"
"That's…" he winced. "Probably not possible? You're made of the green slime stuff Murdoch found-"
"But would it comfort you to try, my Myaster~?" Purring, she's purring now. "Would you do that? My life is yours and only yours. My creation destinies this, so it will make my life purposeful and fulfilled if you take me. Your cum makes me feel real-"
Okay, nope. He's not having this. Her biological programming jazz made her excited, and as dope as that'd usually be? There's stuff to do, and business deals to make.
The time to enjoy the catty-capitalism comes later, when the prices are set and people in play. The global market's top dust chucker won't sell catgirls himself. Well...not yet. It's only a matter of time till the first dust miners get their share of greatness, then the rest of Atlas society. Then...the huntsmen schools, and the world.
Plus, no matter the situation or happenstance, Jaune D'Arc swore something to himself:
Pussy is priority, but not thee priority. Money, Monopoly, and Monty come first, bro.
So if he gets the ween jerked to full-mast again, he'd definitely be stuck here for too long. Like, all day. Cat-girls do crazy shit to his hormones, and he has to vent them out before trying to human again. It's obligations like the Schnee-and potentially saving the world by conquest-that stop it. Otherwise, he'd be violently engaging in pseudo-animal sex twenty four seven. Waiting for some better madlad to create a stable catgirl environment.
The second nut's gotta wait, basically. Sorry inner-Jaune.
"Hold on." He told her, eventoned. "You can't just seduce me post-nut like this, my chub ain't even at a quarter yet." He stressed this, and gently put her down. Away from his jittery 'muscle' making him jittery. "But yeah, sure, we can do stuff later. Let me take a shower first, though."
"..."
"Tabby?"
Slowly, she nodded, and blinked away from him. Sounding tight.
"Yes. I understand. I will always understand you, Myaster Jaune. So I will let you recover from your servicing...please leave me to arrange your proper attire in the meantime."
...He did, standing up and stretching out for a little bit first, but walking to the bathroom like usual. Leaving his catgirl prone on the bed's edge. Seeing not only the dullness in her hair and tail, but also her fisted hands. Which tightened in her lap, hard.
Deciding not to question it, he closed the door, and looked at the reflection in the mirror. Seeing himself, ragged and sleepy looking as he was, and frowned.
"Welp, here it is." He told himself, pulling his hair back. The leftover scratch marks all over him, getting healed by the bubbly white Aura. "It's another day, Mr. Arc."
And it was. It really was.
He ran a hand over the numerous little wear and tear journeying gave him, and shook his head. Grinning.
"Another day, another motherfuckin' dollar."
/-/
The old man typed some code at his desk, face-hugging the screen like his life depended on it.
Jaune sighed, leaning on the wall near the doorframe, looking at the bubbling green gunk in the center. The laboratory kept the material behind a ginormous glassy tube for safekeeping and creating. Which, on second though was probably made with something stronger than that.
"You havin' fun there?" He asked the old man, as some Catgirl guards-holding mechashift swords-walked in. "We've got some company getting to head our way soon, and I see you greasing up the place instead of joining me outside. Planning another batch of bulky ones?"
Like the two who walked in. They had thick skin, and were pretty much amazons at well over six foot each. They made Tabby seem like a short-stack supreme, as she leaned on the wall beside him. Calm, focused, and absentminded as she was.
They've been planning the day for awhile now, and all that's needed is to have Murdock on standby. And he...was by, just not the proper place. Sorta.
The old man turned in his seat, and gave a grin. His glowing red eye kinda making the good humor seem off, but still genuine somehow.
"Yes-yes. I'm almost finished with more, Arc." More typing, rapid-fire. "I plan on you being our figure head for our corporate ventures, as I create the 'Alpha breed' for today." He pointed to the center laboratory tube. "They will enjoy them. There is no Aura or Semblance, but their skin? Oh, it is a wonderful, powerful material! They-"
He rolled his eyes, and turned to the 'Alpha breed' or whatever the fucks his mad scientist thought up. He just knows something innate in the catgirls is hierarchy based.
"I know, I know. You're always on about them. Obsessively. The Schnees are gonna think you're the bastard who wanted this shit in the first place!"
Back then, Jaune would accuse Murdock of just that. It's...uh, kinda the fact this old man didn't question a minor asking for cat-girls? And not only that, but having himself a giggle about it while following along?
Fucking weird. In confirmation of that too, a cackle sounding off Murdock's way. "We are partners, Arc! Yes indeed!"
He sighed, nodding to the Cat-girl behemoths. "Ladies, status report."
The blonde one on the left nodded, voice deep. "The Schnee bullhead has arrived on schedule, Myaster."
On her right, the kinda grayish haired one added, eagerly, but with that same deepness. "They're receiving escort to the outer creation chamber as we speak. They should be in the gardens right now. It's what we expected: Meowster Schnee, his wife, and two offspring. They were nervous but excited to be here, and the Gammas at the landing dock tell us of Meowster Schnee's smile."
"Yes, that's true." The blonde one gave a small smile, expressing that advanced programming. Of, well, expressions. "I feel jubilation at it, as it will progress the eternal glory of our Lord. Yet...also worry, much worry..."
Tabby hummed, like usual, and he mumbled under his breath.
"...Ain't we all, eh?"
He didn't let his catgirls have even a second to respond. Which, they definitely would've, as the bulky duo opened their mouths. Tabby? Not so much, she's not very talkative. Usually, that is.
"Anyways, Sunshine?"
The blonde one smiled, much fuller.
"Greymane?"
The grey one stood a bit straighter, and rolled her shoulders.
"Thanks for the info drop, now go back with the others and help bring the Schnees on around."
They rumbled their agreement-
In the back, he heard the grumbly bubbling of green DNA gunk in the tube, and the sounds of excited old man and catgirls harmonizing.
There's about a dozen 'Delta' breeds around here, with dust pistols instead of guns.
He-when he turned around-kinda glossed over them though, as they're dumb pseudo-munchkins. Barely worth the guns they're required to carry, most able to die in one dust round.
They gave dull reverence to the great creation tube the most, lowering their guns. With hands locked in one another's, and a dull mantra on their tongues without any shred of individuality.
"Creation-Station...!" They moaned. Beady eyes, thin bodies, and teeny-tiny voices coming together in their screechying symphony. All for the great tube. "Creation-Station! Creation-Station!"
Tabby, who leaned into his suited arm, stared into those muck-bubbles too. Less directly interested, per say, being the 'Beta' that she was. But she's still prone to those basic tendencies, so she remained silent during the ritual.
Reverent, and clingy, too. Dull-but attentive-golden eyes staring ahead. Her claws ghosting over his suited shoulder, little purrs mumbling out. If she'd have been a 'Gamma' or something, there's no doubt his Tabby would be doing the ritual too. Locking her hands with others, and doing that worship dance like the biological robots they were.
Like the catgirls they all were, deep down. Who are legion, machine, and sometimes good at blowjobs.
Sex-appeal or not though, it unnerved him. A lot. Made him consider the opportunity costs he's missed over the years.
If he'd of been some weak-ass boytoy campaigning with Taurus, nothing of the sort would happen. Jaune would've looked at his current self like a evil pale human man who distributes degeneracy. And honestly, when he realizes that? Jaune likes this timeline better, and thinks, in the long run, these cum-husks will do everyone good. Because it's his good.
And at least it's also decent proof that enslaving them to do his world-order stuff wasn't immoral, say, on the face of it. Because how's anyone gonna fight for catgirl rights, when they don't want any themselves? When they'll look you in the eyes and say 'I want oppression' if you tell them to?
Not even the Alphas wanted rights, and they can literally pass off as regular Faunus. With their independent thought and emotions, hosted by a more lenient programming.
Super big Faunus, but still.
On that note, the Alpha duo simply nodded their respect to the great creation tube thingy, then turned to him. Calmer in comparison to all other catgrls around them, and able to hold themselves as such.
"Blessed be, Myaster Jaune." They said, in unison. "We shall do your Will, for creation."
He watched as they stomped their way out, slipping through the futuristic doorway. Assuredly to go find his newest guests somewhere in the gardens. Farting around with the 'Epsilon' and 'Gamma' catgirls no doubt.
Sighing, he poked Tabby's absent cheeks in, and got his own gander at the tube. Seeing that familiar feline shape shifting through, and it's Kali-inspired body composition. Another servant in the muck, ripe for his will.
"Here we go."
Alright, so, heres some things to note:
Yep, im continuing this. I'm definitely capping this at around...maybe 8-10 chapters? Thats probably too much on the theoretical, but I don't think ill write that much. Its just a broad cap for my mind to work with whilst I build up the plot.
*Yes, there's gonna be timeskips soon, I'm only skipping two weeks ahead to introduction Weiss/Beacon into this, and flesh out my spontaneous Catigrl Hierarchy for your enjoyment. And mine, mostly mine.
*Sadly, Jaune isn't going full Based Anarcho-capitalist here, ish. He's gotta appease democracy and all that. He also enjoys a lot of Faunus and or Menagrie culture, especially the simplicity and tradition-based identity of it.
That's about it, I think. If it's dumb at this point then I really don't care, becuase I really don't think you people do either. The only reason I'm writing this is becuase I had another shitpost idea in the works. Where Jaune gets Jacques to clone more Blakes, and how that'd be possible to do becuase her personality is so shitty and bland.
Anyways, thoughts? Shit posts? War crimes in the making? Do tell.