A career in entertainment

“I guess that’s what happens when an ignorant town whore goes up against the wealthy owners of a casino…” Samantha shrugs while grinning widely. “I was so hoping my knight in shining armor had come to save me, but I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“I’m sorryyyyyyyy,” you whine.

You and Samantha stand onstage behind a closed curtain, listening to the hubbub of people seating themselves in the theater. You’re all too aware of the kind of performance you’ll be putting on after you saw Samantha dancing earlier.

“Well, at least I don’t have to cope with having fallen lower than Emilia the Town Whore anymore,” Sam says.

HEY.

“Though I’m still wallowing in the depths of shame along with her.”

DOUBLE HEY.

“Serviceslut, you’re friends with this bunny whore?” Gina pops. “She’s the one who put me in this mess in the first place. That, and you barging into the manager’s office like a dimwit.”

“BUNNY WHORE!?” Samantha screeches.

Oh yeah. Gina’s also back here with you. That’s a detail you wish you could forget.

Sam continues, “Don’t blame me because you were too busy staring at my tits to read what you were signing! Lose too many wagers, strip naked! Those are the rules and you signed them! Then you ‘barged into the manager’s office like a dimwit’, so now you’re here. You act like some ritzy rich girl, but you got outsmarted just like a dirt-poor commoner from Rifure!”

Samantha laughs like some sort of victorious villain while you and Gina sulk.

All three of you are dressed like stereotypical bunnygirls. Leotard, pantyhose, bunny ears, linked cuffs, and a collar with a bowtie. Why does this outfit make you feel like you exist to be ogled and nothing else…? Your leotard is a dark red, while Sam’s is forest green and Gina’s is ocean blue. Samantha’s boobs are far too big for the size of her leotard, causing them to spill out so much that her nipples are slightly visible. Gina, while able to fit her chest in her top, seems to have a height problem. Her leotard is giving her a serious camel toe, allowing a detailed outline of her vulva to be seen imprinted on her blue garment. And you, of course, have both problems. How!? It’s like someone handpicked an outfit that wouldn’t fit your proportions at all…

Things sound like they’ve quieted down in the audience, so you all get in position.