(Yeens Day 4)

.>God, you're sore.
.>You groan, your whole body aching. You know your bed isn't much, but this is a whole new level of suck. Might need to actually invest in a mattress, if you're getting this old this fast.
.>Christ, the sheets smell too. You roll to the side and make to get up, but find there's still some bed to go. You look around, bleary-eyed; the room you see in the half-light is not your own. You don't recognize it at all, in fact.
.>Your heart only pounds a little before the events of last night come flooding back to you, explaining your aching body and sore ass. You turn to the side and find Jamie to be gone, the king-size bed empty save yourself.
.>All kinds of feelings are flowing through you right now, but the one that rises to the top is oddly a tinge of annoyance. Or maybe disappointment?
.>You're unhappy Jamie left you here to wake up by yourself. You're not sure if it's because you're in pain, because your life has changed for the second time this week, or if you're attracted to her: all you know is you're feeling it.
.>There's a muffled noise: distorted yeen laughter. You freeze, barely breathing: you don't know which ones it is, but you don't really want to be anywhere near them right now. You can't take even a fraction of what happened last night again, not with your body feeling like one big bruise.
.>After a minute or so, you're fairly confident that they don't know your here, that the laughter was about something else. Though that doesn't mean you'll be able to slip out of here quietly-- you need to get back to the apartment, take a shower. Asking where the one is here wouldn't likely lead to you getting very clean, you imagine.
.>First, though, you'll need some clothes. You get up and examine the room a little more, now that you're awake: it's relatively small, the concrete walls and high windows suggesting it's the basement. The main feature of the room is the desk, a laptop on it along with an oddly high-end set of headphones. The messy pile of notes is also intriguing, but it doesn't feel right to read through them.
.>What interests you more is the note atop the neat pile of familiar clothes, stacked on a dresser. You take the note from your clothes and fumble for the light switch, pleasantly surprised when the room is covered in a soft glow rather than a harsh one.
.>'Anon,
.>'I tried waking you up, but it seemed like you needed the rest. None of the girls should bother you in here, but you're on your own when you step outside. They should be busy... but if you want to sneak out before you find out, here's the way to the back door:'
.>Jamie drew you a little map: up some stairs and a quick right should see you out.
.>'...And don't worry,' reads the bottom of the page, 'No one is going to bother you on the street now.'
.>'-Jamie'

.>You can't decide if you should smile or not; somehow, the note lets through more emotion than the little yeen has in person. At least, that you can really remember. You fold it carefully after you're dressed, sliding it into your pocket before leaving.
.>It's a little scary and a little strange as you tiptoe up the stairs, the loud conversation going on in the bar making you feel like you're escaping a dungeon manned by beasts. And despite your tender body, you're successful.
.>You stifle your whimpers and winces; you might stink of the Bad Apples, but you don't need to give any of the streetwalkers any more of a reason to think about messing with you.
.>When you reach your apartment, you realize it's nearly noon. Fuck, Jamie wasn't kidding: you did need that sleep.
.>For a moment you feel like an unproductive slug, sleeping away half the day, but after a second thought, your guilt disappears. What exactly do you have to do? You're waiting for a response from Lyons, and you're already situated with the yeens. You did all your errands yesterday-- though you were interrupted before you could put everything away.
.>You reach a compromise with yourself: you put away the contents of yesterday's bags before heading to the shower, drawing yourself a warm bath after you feel like you smell like yourself again.
.>The heat soaks into your sore muscles as you slump down in the tub, letting out a sigh and closing your eyes as the aches gradually lessen.
.>Finally. A chance to rest, your body and your mind.
.>Random thoughts zip through your head as your body prunes up: when this is over, you should pay your mother a visit, pick up a new round of dad's pre-state books. You've read through the few that you keep here at the apartment, filled up a couple of notebooks on them.
.>Maybe you'll be able to catch up on Gunsmith Kats while you're at it. You've heard rumors that copies of the TV show have been circulating outside of the SI Region, though you've got no idea if they're legal or what system they're even for. Say nothing about it being in your language.

.>What's B's real name?
.>You groan a little as your thoughts inevitably turn back to the situation at hand, the yeens and the court.
.>Talia's words are echoing in your head, and you can't help but fear she may be right. 'No guarantees.' They might just be using you for the few days you've got left as a free man.
.>No... no, that wouldn't make sense. Some gut feeling tells you that.
.>B's demeanor was professional. Trustworthy. Whatever racket she's running, while not legit, doesn't seem to be based on nothing. Maybe it's just the way she didn't try to feel you up the minute she saw you, but you trust her.
.>And... whatever it was that the others did last night, it seemed ritualized.
.>Besides, if they were just going to throw you to the state after a few days, why wait to fuck your brains out?
.>No, they hold some kind of respect for you. It's not a normal kind, but enough that they're willing to bring you into the fold. And there's gotta be some level of trust, beyond the fact they don't think you're an undercover cop: you could report them all the same as a citizen, and maybe even get a reduced sentence out of it.
.>But that's not what you want to do. You wanna get back at the State, and letting a gang of Yeens operate seems like a safe way. Getting into that gang-- well, maybe not the safest idea, but it's the one you're going with for now.
.>Another idea pops in your head: perhaps you don't go quietly into that trial, stacked and rigged whatever way B provides.
.>What if you were to call them out?
.>The State, no matter what sector or region, hates being called out. Lyons mentioned it yesterday. Instead of going to the trial, you disappear. Escape. Not to another sector, but out of this world: out of their records papers, everything. If there's anyone that can make that happen, it'd be B.

.>Before you have time to really interrogate the thought, a buzzing rouses you from the tub. Wiping your hands on a towel, you stretch with a groan to grab your phone and answer it from the comfort of the tub.
.>"Hello?"
.>"Mr. Anonerson. Do you have a moment?"
.>Lyons. Good news or bad news, it's probably worth hearing.
.>"Sure," you say, sitting up a little in the tub.
.>"Excellent. Did you have a chance to look over that email I sent you last night?"
.>Shhhit.
.>"Uh, no," you manage, "Had a lot of errands, then something unexpected came up."
.>"I see," he replies, voice neutral as only a lawyer's can be, "Well, unfortunately there weren't many developments. I'm in talks with Ms. Grilliz's associates now, and there's a specific state exam that you may be able to do in order to delay assignment. As we discussed, however, there will still be consequences."
.>You **** out a groan after a moment: you need to keep things looking legit, at least.
.>"What about proving our courtship? Anything on that?"
.>"You would be the best person to answer that question, Mr. Anonerson," Lyons replies. "Ms. Grilliz has told me she couldn't find any mementos nor think of any specific events or occasions that might fit the bill."
.>"What do we do, then?" you ask, forcing a sigh.
.>"I'll continue my work. You try not to worry-- I can at least say that there's progress on your firearms charges."
.>You make a noise of approval: maybe you should let B know about the legal progress, in case it might affect something with her.
.>"Do you mind if I ask a personal question, however?"
.>The way he says it makes your chest tighten.
.>"Shoot."
.>"I've got no record of either you or Ms. Grilliz ever requesting a CU form, nor inquiring about the process. The two of you have so far provided no physical evidence of a longstanding tie, and if I may be frank, neither of you were very affectionate in my office. Not to mention vastly difference scents."
.>You gulp.
.>"Normally, this is where I'd ask you to reevaluate your stance on waiting and trying to continue courtship, and would provide you with a CU form. Paper or electronic. But I want you to understand something."
.>You're somewhat surprised he's not growling. That makes it even worse.
.>"My duty as your attorney is not to ensure you are innocent, Mr. Anonerson. My job is to ensure that your rights are protected, and represent your case however you choose to dictate. You can continue to plead innocent, or you can plead guilty; one may be more successful than the other."

.>The call ends, and you nearly drop your phone in the bath as it beeps. You toss the phone aside after staring at it for a second, sinking further down in the water with a groan.
.>You're gonna need some extra soak-time for this.
.>Not five minutes later, stress still on your mind, something unexpected jolts you awake.
.>"Anon! We know you're here!"
.>"The fuck?" you hiss, trying to figure out which yeen it was that said it. How the hell did they get in again?
.>They heard you, apparently, evidenced by the thud of footsteps and the knocking on your bathroom door.
.>"Come on out, Anon," one of your unexpected guests says, "You got work to do!"
.>"Do I smell soap?" another teases as you get out from the tub, "If you showered, I'ma be a little sad."
.>You answer the bathroom door, standing in front of them dripping wet with nothing on save your towel. Shay and Kandra, of course, don't look away.
.>"What is it?" you grumble, tempted to slap their hands as they both feel your bare skin.
.>"'What is it?'" Shay snorts, "You got work to do, humie. Gettin' employed don't just mean you get initiated and that's it."
.>She stands back, eyes dipping down to your towel and a toothy grin on her face.
.>"In fact, might take some convincing to make sure I don't tell B..."
.>Kandra punches her sister in the arm; you only now see she's got a look of concern in her eyes as she turns back to you.
.>"What's up, Anon?"
.>Her hands on your shoulders are massaging, not greedy.
.>She's weird.
.>"Nothing," you say, pushing at her arms and finding her surprisingly yielding, "Give me a minute to get dressed. Then we can go."
.>She lets you retreat back into the bathroom; you hear the two of them speaking in whispers as you dress. No more knocking at the door or cracking it open, so Kandra must really be putting the screws to Shay.
.>When you return the conversation has ended, both hyenas waiting for you. Kandra more patiently than Shay, who sits splayed out on your couch.

.>"Alright. Let's go," you say, heading for the door when Kandra grabs your shoulder gently.
.>"Ya got tools? Like, gun tools?"
.>You nod, and she nods her head back into your apartment and says "Then get 'em. That's what you gonna be doin'."
.>Shay is flipping through channels as you pass her, giving you a more restrained look of interest this time.
.>"How did you two even get in here?" You call to them as you gather your kit.
.>"Magic," Shay calls back, "Wouldn't be magic if we told you, now would it?"
.>"We picked the lock," Kandra says, and you hear Shay snarl, growling some threat at her muscular sister. Great. Now you need to invest in an interior deadbolt.
.>You return to them with a bag full of cleaning supplies: since you've got no idea what you'll be looking at or what they have already, bringing everything makes the most sense. Plus, somehow you doubt their tools will be quite as extensive as yours.
.>Shay shuts off the TV and brings up the rear as Kandra leads you out, waiting for her sister to close the door before going on.
.>It's a repeat of going down the stairs last night as the three of you descend, the old apartment not being used to traffic from hyenas their size.
.>Probably wasn't expected any hyenas would use it at all, two legged or four.
.>After the three of you make it out of the building and down a block or two, Kandra slides up close to you, stooping slightly as she walks alongside you.
.>"Really, Anon, what's wrong?" she asks.
.>"Yeah humie," Shay butts in, pressing against you, "Most guys would be happy gettin' a surprise visit from us like that."
.>Kandra growls, and Shay does too before backing off a little.
.>"I got bad news," you say, trying to leave it at that. But, feeling their eyes on you, you relent.
.>"The defense attorney-- my lawyer-- he thinks I'm guilty, I think."
.>"Oh," is all they manage. They're quiet the rest of the way to the bar, and you can't exactly blame them. You're not sure what to do, and neither are they.

.>When you arrive, you see actual people there for the first time. It's a few possums, sitting at the bar with Jamie, discussing thing that are clearly not drinks. You feel Kandra and Shay tense up, fur bristling slightly as the possums size you up. They turn back to Jamie before your escorts bring you to the back: either business was more important than you, or you're not worth dealing with Jamie and four other bigger, meaner-looking yeens.
.>You don't bother asking about it as the pair guide you down the hall, taking you to a turn you didn't see in your few times back here. They lead you to a larger space, something that looks like it was a garage or workshop once; it's now a mess.
.>Crates, some sealed and some opened, are stacked to the high ceiling, blocking most of the windows and old bay doors. A cluttered bench sits in the little open area, a yeen-sized path made leading from it to the door to one heading outside.
.>"Alright," Kandra says, Shay having slipped away from the two of you sometime earlier, "You're fixin' up our guns. Our personal ones."
.>She points to a small pile of soft cases with a variety of stickers, colors and markings in sharpie.
.>"Fix? They're all broken?"
.>"Nah, you know what I mean. Clean 'em up, check 'n make sure nothing is broken. That kinda thing. All the tools we've got are by that bench."
.>"Okay, any aftermarket stuff on them? Any weird stuff I should know?"
.>"You're the gun guy, Anon," Kandra says, not unkindly as she leaves, "You tell me. Just make sure everything goes back in the same case it came from."
.>You let out a slight sigh as you survey your workspace: not at all ideal. But then again, nothing is. You grab the topmost case and set to work, laying it out on your operating table.
.>The hours slip by, and you find yourself blissfully unaware. Part of the reason you don't mind being restricted to older, higher-maintenance guns is that you've always found such maintenance cathartic. And given it doesn't look like the yeens have cleaned any of their weapons-- a mix of old and new-production autoloaders, surplus rifles, and cheap shotguns-- you're provided plenty of material to work with. You know most of them, making disassembly and inspection a snap, but some of the newer ones you're unfamiliar with. Fortunately for you, no one's figured out anything better than traditional cased ammunition, so it's not hard to figure things out: at the end of the day, it's all about feeding in cartridges or shells and spitting them out.
.>That and there's plenty of tutorials online.
.>None of the guns are in too dangerous of a state, though you did find a few that were still loaded: you slapped a sticky note on the cases for those, so you can give their owners a proper ass-chewing. Twice your size or not, you're not gonna mess around with accidents waiting to happen.
.>Aside from that, the most egregious sin is how most of them look. Half are beat to shit and look neglected, while the other half are gaudy, covered in cosmetic grips, poor rattle-can-coatings, and Chinesium tacticool gadgets that would make Aki hurl.

.>When you're finished, the can is full of used rags, everything oiled, cleaned, and cleared, the stack of cases a bit more neat than they were originally. You make your way back to the bar, looking for one of the yeens, but finding the place oddly empty. A glance outside makes you look at your watch: no wonder it's dark out, it's a bit after 9.
.>You're tempted to go back in the garage and 'borrow' a gun for your way back-- you did shower off all the smells from them on you, so you're really going naked. At least, you hope you got all the smells off.
.>You're reaching for the door handle when something is pulled over your head, and you're pulled back into a plush, furry body, that smell you worked so hard to get rid of surrounding you again.
.>"Got you..." Shay purrs in your ear, hugging you under her shirt from behind.
.>"Shay-- let me go--" you say, "I finished all the guns, they're all clean and in the garage."
.>"Not a chance, little man," she says, squeezing you tighter into her twin pillows, "You know it's too dangerous fir you ta go out there all alone."
.>"Then come with me," you say, managing to break away slightly only for her to turn you around, muffling your protests with her bust.
.>"Sorry, we're busy tonight," she says, stroking your hair through the shirt, "You'll just need to stay here."
.>She keeps you under there, shuddering a little until you push at her hips hard. Then she lets you go, giggling as you pop out from the hem of her shirt with a gasp.
.>"Fine," you grumble. Arguing won't get you far, you know, but you're not sure what to do now. There's still a bit of time to kill: may as well hang out in the bar and scroll on your phone.
.>Shay has other ideas, grabbing your shoulder as you try and move to a booth.
.>"Anon," she says, "Don't you wanna know what it is we're doing?"
.>"Not really," you say, even as she steers you toward the back, "I'd really just like to go home."
.>"Nah, you are home! Come on. Besides, it'll be fun!"
.>You imagine that the two of you have very different definitions of 'fun,' but you let her drag you into the back. Whatever it is, it sounds like it'll be all of them, so at least they'll be too busy fighting each other to go after you too hard.
.>That or initiation is a multi-night process. The thought makes you gulp: your ass is still sore, helped none by sitting on a stool all day, and you can already feel the aches returning to your limbs.

.>Before you can do much about it, Shay has already brought you to the head of the stairs. The very familiar, old, worn stairs. You're about to try and scramble past her when she picks you up, hauling you over her shoulder.
.>"Hey! What are you--!"
.>"Shush," she says, flicking your butt and making you wince, "This ain't initiation again, you'll be fine."
.>It doesn't seem that way: when she opens the door, you are again awash in yeen-musk. This time, though, you're not blind, and they're not trying to be quiet, making all sorts of noise as Shay sets you down and slams the door.
.>It's a cramped room for 9 yeens, but they manage. It looks like something very much out of your college days a few years ago: anthros making do with human-size furniture, couches, chairs, and tables cobbled together to form a rough circle around a rough, large table.
.>And yeah, there's shag carpet.
.>"I get him!"
.>"No, I do!"
.>Their bickering reaches your ears as you stare at what's actually on the table: sheets of paper, a few books, some beer, and... a map? Figures?
.>"Fine, we roll for him!"
.>That last statement seems to be agreeable, and the clattering of dice fills the air: only now do you notice each yeen has a few of them, and not the normal six-sided kind.
.>"Enough!"
.>The room goes quiet as you look to the end of the table: Jamie sits behind a screen of some kind. There's a drawing of some anthros in various fantasy outfits duking it out with what look like goblins.
.>"Anon, come over here."
.>You look around the room for another moment, unsure if it's in awe or surprise. You drift over to the other end in a daze, none of the other yeens making a move to stop you. In fact, they seem to be actually focused on other things, it's insane.
.>Behind that screen are more books, sheets, and dice. Jamie motions for you to sit on a stool that looks suspiciously like the one from the garage.
.>"Kandra told me what happened," she whispers to you, leaning in, "Just relax, have a beer. Take your mind off things."
.>"...What is all this?" you ask, spotting charts and boxes on the sheets.
.>"GnG-- 'Gnolls and Goblins'. It's a roleplaying game. Keeps them in line," the little yeen replies, nodding to the group. They've already appeared to have started bickering again.
.>"Wait, you want me to--"
.>"No, not that way," she says, a little snort to her voice, "It's more like make-believe with rules. Just watch, and have this."

.>She shoves a bottle in your hand, then lets out a little bark, getting silence once again.
.>"Okay, where did we last leave off?"
.>"We were jus coming back from our last raid," ViVi says, and the others nod, a murmur of confirmations bubbling up.
.>"I convinced that one guard ta come back with us, 'member?" Margo says.
.>"An I saved that prisoner they had," Kandra adds.
.>"The important thing is getting the chemicals we found back in one piece," Roxxi says, "I can make us a better battlewagon with 'em."
.>The group goes on, leaving you still at a loss for words. You look across all of them as Jamie describes a craggy, arid landscape they cross: all of them are enthralled. Lusty, hardened criminals, enticed by... make-believe? Telling a story?
.>It throws you for a loop, to be certain.
.>Each of them goes around and describes what they're doing on their journey back: Kandra is talking with the prisoner she saved, Shay is trying to steal coin from the prisoners they took, and Kris is trying to charm one of them with a spell.
.>Sammi is arguing about magic with Kris, while Aja makes communes with some god. Rae does the same, but it's to a different one and it sounds less like she's having a conversation and more like an actual prayer.
.>Roxxi is guarding their loot, while Vivi is guarding the whole party. Much to Roxxi's chagrin, Margo is chatting it up with the guard she convinced to stay around.
.>You feel a little awkward as she seduces 'the guard,' who is being played by Jamie. Jamie just seemed tired.
.>"Have Anon do it!"
.>You sit up straight at the mention of your name, coming out of your daze.
.>"No, Margo," Jamie sighs, "Anon's here to relax."
.>"He can, jus with me!" she says, patting her lap, "Come on, you're always for immersion!"
.>The little yeen just sighs, giving you a look. You realize she's not the only one: they're all doing it.
.>They're actually giving you a choice. Like you're one of them. Or, at least, you're not the absolute bottom of the totem pole.
.>You sigh, and get up from the stool, walking over to Margo amid some light noise of approval.
.>You figure showing a bit of interest and being part of their game might make you more than just the **** humie. And besides, it's not like Margo's going to have you do anything debasing right here in front of everyone, right?

.>Margo yanks you over the back of the couch and into her lap, bringing your face close to hers and stroking a finger down your cheek.
.>"'What say we slip into something a little more... comfortable, Astoli?" she says, her voice entirely different, though her eyes are not.
.>"...Uh... I guess...?"
.>The room fills with raucous laughter, Margo hugging you like a stuffed bear. You think even Jamie is joining in.
.>"Okay, you and Astoli go and do whatever it is you do when the party takes a break, off away from camp," Jamie says, "But roll me a Sense check."
.>Margo, letting you turn around in her lap but not letting you leave, rolls one of the dice and looks at the sheet.
.>"23."
.>"As you're finishing up," Jamie says, Margo squeezing your sides as she does, "You hear a noise; you smell a familiar scent, Astoli's out of your mind as you recognize it."
.>The table leans in, again enthralled.
.>"The Broken-Nose Bandits."
.>The room now fills with the sound of excited yeens; some are worried, others are overjoyed. Before you've got a chance to ask why, Margo turns you around in her arms and hugs you tight to her chest.
.>"I grab Astoli tight an run back to camp to warn everyone!"
.>She lets you go when Jamie asks for everyone to 'roll for initiative.' They're again all enthralled, planning and coordinating with a unity you haven't really seen from them before. You manage to slip from Margo's grasp-- she actually shoves you, a little eager to get to her sheet-- and out back around the couch, taking your seat back by Jamie on the stool.
.>A fight ensues. Not a literal one, a make believe one. The crew gathers their goods and prisoners into 'the battlewagon' before making a stand against their enemy, the ambush foiled: Roxxi attempts to give orders, half of them sticking while the other half are ignored by her sisters, much to her frustration. The sisters take turns describing their actions, making rolls to see how they turn out.
.>Kandra and Vivi run out to meet the bandits on foot, archaic weapons in hand, while Shay sneaks off to the side and picks them off with arrows. Aja, Sammi, and Kris all stay near the battlewagon and sling spells, frying, zapping, and confusing the small army of bandits. Margo sits with them, apparently rousing their spirits with song.
.>She really sings, too, belting out a line from a pop number. It's not the best, but her enthusiasm makes up for it.
.>Rae runs out to the field when Kandra is surrounded and beat on by the bandits, healing her with a word.
.>And Roxxi sits atop the battlewagon the whole time, calling out enemy movements and barking half-followed orders, manning a ballista mounted there.

.>You find yourself cheering them on, literally when the battle ends in victory. They're all cheering too. It takes a while for them to wind down, though going through the loot of the fallen and finding a few new prisoners seems to help. You're not sure how you feel about that.
.>"The next day of travel is uneventful," Jamie says when she's regained control, "And you look forward to returning home. The landscape around you is familiar, and you can see the smoke in the sky of your settlement. But as you reach the last hill, you realize the color isn't quite right, and there's a foul smell on the wind. When you crest the hill, you look down and see your home in ruins, buildings collapsed and smoldering."
.>The room again goes wild, remorse, anger and speculation filling the air.
.>"...And I think we'll stop there for the night."
.>Now it's pleading that fills the room. Even Roxxi asks-- not growlingly orders-- Jamie to keep going, to play a little longer.
.>The little yeen is stalwart, though, saying that's everything she has.
.>"Besides, it's late. We still got work tomorrow."
.>You look at your watch-- 12:09. Where did all the time go?
.>The room shifts as they all get up, taking some of the game supplies and giving some to Jamie. It's right about then that you realize you're a bit tired, too-- and that you've got no bed of your own here. You slip over to Jamie in the hustle and bustle, wanting just her to hear your question.
.>"Where am I crashing for the night?"
.>Ears perk up all around at your whisper. Damn hypersensitive hearing.
.>There's a chorus of "With me!" and "By me!"s as about half their number all gun toward you, paws grabby. Once they reach you, though, the bickering starts. In the chaos, Jamie leans in and whispers to you, "Just write me a note next time."
.>"What do I do?" you ask, and she gives you an exasperated look.
.>"Make your choice. I doubt you'll be alone, whatever you do."
.>Meanwhile, the sisters have made a little progress on their arguments: Margo's clearly out since she got to have you in her lap for the game, and Jamie shouldn't because she stole you last night. Just as dice are starting to be rolled, Roxxi lets out one of her room-clearing growls.
.>"Move the tables and chairs. We'll sleep down here."
.>There's a little silence, everyone staring at her while Jamie, much to your dismay, slips out up the stairs. You feebly attempt the same, but the big yeen clamps a massive paw on your shoulder.
.>"Rox, it's summer. And besides, we haven't done that since--"
.>Your captor lets out another growl, shutting Vivi up. The others begin to move the furniture to the sides of the room, but Kris stands her ground and looks up at the defacto leader.
.>"You can't just order us around like that, bitch," the neon-haired dissenter says, "It's a dumb idea. You mighta done that when you were a pup, but--"

.>Roxxi snarls and backhands Kris, getting a yelp. The room is quiet as she picks herself up, all eyes-- including yours-- on Roxxi.
.>"We're doin' what I say. We all get a piece of Anon that way. Any more questions?"
.>The room is silent.
.>"Good."
.>She lets you go; you've got no intention of trying to flee up the stairs now. You look back to her for direction, only to see that she's stripping off her clothes.
.>"W-what are we--"
.>"It's gonna be hot," Aja says to you as the others begin to do the same, "You might wanna do the same, Anon."
.>You consider putting up some resistance now, but then think better of it. You're barely finished taking off your shirt and socks before someone grabs you and pulls you down to the floor with them.
.>"It's fine," Rae says as you tremble, "We won't squish you. This time."
.>The other sisters all crowd in around you, somehow each managing to touch a part of you. Memories of last night come to mind: all the fur, the pressure, the smell. Rae coos, squeezing your arm a little in an attempt to calm you down.
.>Other than that, it's oddly... quiet. The yeens breathe softly, and you can feel a few grips loosen on you as they start to fall asleep. You don't know how; maybe being surrounded by multiple near-nude bodies-- your siblings, no less-- just isn't an issue for yeens. But it's certainly keeping you awake
.>But eventually, you begin to feel drowsy. The warmth is probably doing it.
.>Then, somewhere under the pile of arms, legs, and fur, you feel a buzz. Someone stirs, squeezing your leg harder for a second with a unintelligible mumble. Slowly, carefully, you slide your arm from its multiple embraces and slide it under those near your pocket, extracting your phone like a bomb.
.>Appropriately, you flashbang yourself with it when you open it, hastily lowering the brightness and hoping your expletive didn't wake anyone up. It's an email, from Lyons.
.>'Dear Mr. Anonerson,'
.>'It is my opinion as your lawyer that it would be in your best interest to pursue a Civil Union in regards to your case. Be it with Ms. Grilliz or not. This would render moot the charges against you and their likely punishments. Do this, and continuing your plea of innocence will become inconsequential.'
.>'I have attached the necessary paperwork for a CU: submittal up to the day prior to your hearing (Sunday) will suffice for the purposes of court. Please notify me if you do manage to convince Ms. Grilliz, or anyone else meaningful in your life, to make this agreement with you.'
.>'-Steven Lyons, Attorney At Law'

.>You sigh. He really must be working late hours. You attempt to slide the phone back into place, but find the arms around your legs have tightened.
.>"We'll see, Lyons," you mumble to yourself as you conk out, "We'll see."

Important note about the next poll:
The granularity of the CYOA returns: You/Anon can chose to try and stick it to the Anthrostate via the 'Resistance' path, or go along and try to stick with the system. Note that this doesn't mean he'll be trying to lead a revolution-- he's only one guy-- but he will try to subvert them in some way or another. The State is big and powerful, though: he won't necessarily succeed.
If you're voting Yeen this week, go to the link in the Poll description and vote on that poll. Feel free to vote for the other characters as well!
https://strawpoll.com/polls/NMnQBjL9Yg6