A bit of bovine hospitality.

Exit the door, walk out to the street, and get in the taxi. That was all Pascal had to do next.

What actually happened was that Pascal meekly walked out the door onto the carved stone pathway of the estate, the SQUISH robot shut the door behind him... and then Pascal just kind of deflated. As if all the anxious energy built up in his body chose that moment to wriggle out and escape through every nerve ending. Pascal let out a shuddering breath and hunched over a little, while his head turned to either side to make sure no one was watching him have a little freak-out.

Things were okay. Things were great. But boy were they ever overwhelming. Just what he wanted, of course, just as the Scarlet Consort had explained. But there was still the matter of his neuroses to contend with, which were scarred from public breakdown and humiliation.

Plus, he just wasn't sure what to think about what just happened. Getting... well... forcefully titfucked. It was hot enough to have made him cum pretty much immediately, and his crotch was still tingling. But it was so... sudden. So cold, not unlike SQUISH's synthetic exterior. Pascal found himself missing the playfulness of Rigzy, the maternity of Hephzia, Scarlet's teasing. That... affection element. The stuff that made it personal, made him feel appreciated and loved. It was a stunning moment of quiet reflection, for Pascal to realize that for all his single-minded perversions... he really was just craving a little tender loving care.

"Oiiiiiiiii!" came the call. A loud, low, womanly voice with a hint of a drawl, calling from the other side of the estate's front gate, from the street. "Someone call a taxi?!"

Pascal jerked and jogged down the driveway. "C-Coming!"

The wrought iron gates automatically pulled apart for him, and closed shortly after he passed the threshold. SQUISH's doing, no doubt. The driveway emptied out directly into a small two-lane street bordering the south side of the mayoral estate - a cozy little oasis from the busier main streets of the "modern" district just a couple blocks away. Parked right up against the sidewalk was the archetypical yellow taxi cab, at least when viewed from a distance. As Pascal got closer, his assumptions that these vehicles were basically clones of 20th- and 21st-century cars were challenged. They were bigger and wider - probably to accommodate the busts of their passengers - and there was no rumbling and gaseous exhaust of a fuel-injected engine. This wasn't precisely a "modern" car, but some kind of infinitely efficient electric approximation of one.

The small details and little differences of this world were almost enough to fully distract Pascal from the driver of this taxi, but once she had his attention, his eyes couldn't leave. Because his driver was a tall, muscular, topless, quad-breasted minotaur woman, with a bullish face that looked both intimidating and feminine. Her big eyes sparkled when they met his, and she grinned with a mouth full of big, broad teeth. "Well howdy there, partner! No wonder Ah had to race three other drivers to get this pickup! A human male really has finally landed in Nestledeep, huh? Gosh, feelin' the pressure yet? Haha!"

The friendly demeanor of the minotauress combined with her height, strength, and outthrust double-stacked chest disarmed Pascal in so many ways. All he could do was blush and awkwardly gesture about. "Y-Yeah. Totally. Pressure."

The minotauress smacked her lips and gave him a sympathetic pout. "Awh, c'mere." With a few steps of her chiseled legs, covered by little more than a fur loincloth, she stepped around the taxi and wrapped a muscular arm around Pascal's shoulder, pulling him against her side, squishing his cheek and nose against the side of her lower left brown-furred breast. She smelled... earthy. "You need a second, babe? Or is this too much?"

Pascal took the moment to wrap his arms around her chiseled abdomen and cling to her, like she was his powerful guardian, protecting him against the world. Even though they had just met. He trusted Scarlet that he had nothing to fear, that every woman he met in this world would ultimately look out for him. And while his panicky brain couldn't fully believe it at times, this knowledge would at least allow him to be a little bold from time to time.

"There, there," she cooed. "Nice to meetcha. You can call me Muu." (Moo...? Pascal thought in disbelief.) "Ah'll be your humble driver today. Yer goin' to the Tower, right? Can't blame ya; the views are amazin', and there's always some new kinds of aliens visitin' that I've never seen before. But, ah, we don't gotta go just yet. We can head out when yer ready."

Her embrace really was helping him come down from his little freakout. He was able to loosen his death-grip on her hips and pull away a little bit. "Yeah, I think I'm good now..."

"You sure?" Muu asked, but she didn't let the question linger too long before she smiled and nodded. "Let's get on our way, then! Take whatever seat you like." She walked back around to the driver-side door, but then stopped abruptly, her eyes glancing through the windows. "Oh, right, oughta let you know - I've got another passenger headin' that way as well. If you ain't comfortable with that, you can sit up front with me, okay?" Then she opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat, her four breasts brushing across the steering wheel.

The windows were tinted just enough that Pascal couldn't quite make out who or what else was in the taxi without pressing himself against the glass. But somehow, he could feel a... presence in the back of the car. Some aura of significant power. He could feel a pair of eyes studying him intently.

Whoever was in the back seat, they probably weren't going to be as chill as Muu.