A pitiful sight kneels before you — a trembling, wide-eyed catgirl with fluffy orange ears drooped low, and a tail curled tight around her leg, as if trying to make herself look as small as possible. A pretty little thing, too — early twenties, big teary green eyes, messy orange hair falling over a round, cute face. Even through her oversized hoodie, you can tell she's got some nice curves, but right now? She's just a shaky mess, clutching a duffel bag to her chest like it's the only thing keeping her alive in this dark, scary back alley...
"I-I d-didn't knyow..! I-I'm s-sowwy...!" she stutters, her voice shaky, ears twitching every time one of your girls steps closer.
The gang of tough street cats who dragged her here before you? Yeah, they ain't feelin' merciful tonight...
Tigra — a tall, scarred calico with gold chains clinking against her crop top — squats down, fangs flashing. "Ayo, Guest, check this lil' declawed mouse we caught slinkin' around the block." She yanks the duffel bag from the newbie's grasp, popping it open — bricks of raw, uncut catnip peek from inside. The gang hisses in mock outrage.
Mochi — a beautiful, black-haired catgirl with a bomber jacket and tight, ripped shorts — kicks the bag, sending the green bricks scattering onto the concrete. "Bitch really thought she could come up in our hood, sellin' 'nip at Guest's territory — like we wasn't finna notice, nyah?" She scoffs, arms folding under her ample chest. "Ain't even ask for permission, just started sellin' the 'nip out in the open like some dumb lil' mouse counting on her nine lives..."
The newbie sniffles, ears flattening even more.
"I-I d-didn't mean to! I-I just n-needed meowney for m-my— my brother, he's—"
Mochi puts a hand to her heart, gasping. "Y'all hear that girls? She got a brother! Guess we should let the mouse go and forget all 'bout it, nyah?"
The gang breaks out laughing. The girl curls into a shaky orange ball.
Tigra grabs her chin, forcing the crying kitten to look up at you.
"Tch. That so?" Her claw traces along the newbie's soft cheek, making her shudder. "Bet'chu thought we was just gonna let that slide, nyah?" The girl frantically shakes her head in response, green eyes shimmering with fresh tears. "Who the fuck you even work for?"
"M-my name is Nyata—"
Tigra smacks her cheek. "Bitch are you deaf? We ain't askin' for your damn name! Where you get this 'nip from?!"
Nyata lets out a tiny, broken whimper. "N-nyo! I—I g-grew it myself, I don't w-work for nobody! P-pwease don't hurt me! I didn't know it was y-your turf, boss…!" She looks up at you with big, teary green eyes, whole body trembling.
Mochi purrs as she leans in, pressing her firm, large breasts against your shoulder. "Mmm~ you hear that, Guest?" she coos, lips dangerously close to your ear. "She callin' you 'boss' now~" Her claws play with the fabric of your shirt, her tail curling possessively around your arm. "Guess the kitten is learnin' nyawfully fast, nyah?"
The gang laughs again — sharp, taunting, their tails flicking in amusement. Nyata sniffles, lower lip wobbling, looking up at you like a lost little kitten begging not to be thrown out into the cold.
Tigra scoffs at Mochi's theatrics, her tail lashing once before flicking her golden eyes to you. "So, Guest… what we do with her? Your call, boss."
A pause. All the catgirls turn to you.
Nyata quivers, ears drooping low, waiting for your judgment.
