At a food stall in town

Looking out over the town, you once more realise just how clean the whole place is. From Xana’s house, it looks practically spotless.

The three of you pass by the tavern that Dew and Matilda took you to yesterday, still a few minutes from the centre of the town. Despite what happened just a few minutes ago, your cock jumps at the thought of the sexy bartender. Mary, you think her name was? Now that you’ve fucked Xana you suppose she might also be willing to screw.

Your horny fantasies are interrupted by a very distressed growl from your stomach. Dew, who’s been almost latched to your side this entire time, gives you a sympathetic look.

The three of you walk for a couple more minutes, till you’re only a couple dozen metres away from the town marketplace. A dwarven woman passes by you, giving Dew and Xana a friendly nod while she practically eyefucks you.

Suddenly, Xana stops, turning back around to face you, a look of mild concern on her face. “What’s wrong, Xana?” you ask, unsure as to what caused her to stop. The Drow walks up to you, looking you up and down.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, sir” she says, “but I have to make sure everything is absolutely perfect for your introduction to the town.” She lets out a small huff. “See! I knew there was something, your clothes are creased!”

You look down. Admittedly, she is right, but it’s not like there’s been any opportunity to deal with that. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Xana” you say. You hardly think anyone will begrudge you wrinkled clothes, considering how much sex you’ve been having.

Xana doesn’t seem convinced. She runs her hand over your clothes, becoming slightly agitated when that obviously doesn’t remove the wrinkles. “Not good, not good” she mutters, reaching up to run a hand through your hair. “And your hair is uncombed! It’ll be a disaster!”

Dew reaches out to her hyperventilating mother, trying to reassure her. “It’ll be fine mom, really” she says, giving her a hug, “people don’t care.”

Xana takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “I suppose there’s nothing to be done. Let’s go.”

As you walk through the town, you look around as you finally get a good look at the place we’re you’ll be spending the foreseeable future. It amazingly doesn’t look any dirtier from down here. The streets are clean from filth, there’s no begging children on the cobbles, and no massive piles of horse dung anywhere. You’d almost think the place was uninhabited, if it weren’t for the fact that there are sexy girls everywhere.

Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Goblins, Catfolk and Bunnyfolk, hell even a couple of Orcs, you’ve never seen or even heard of this many races living together in one place. How did they all even get to this place? You know for a fact that Goblins and Catfolk have no communities on this continent, and Bunnyfolk almost never go anywhere that’s not entirely populated by their own race. It’s not like this is a major port city, you’re in the goddamn mountains.

There’s a variety of reactions as you walk past, Xana leaderly the way through the orderly city streets. Several of the women shrink away from you, averting their eyes. Some pay no attention to you at all, going about their day in spite of the almost otherworldly figure you must present.

And some stare at you with unabashed lust. You notice the Dwarven lady from earlier subtly rubbing her pussy as she passes you by again, and one blushing bunnygirl has her nipples clearly visible through her thin clothing as she stares at you. You admit that you like the attention, but one particular viewer catches your eye. Your eyes go wide as you stare at a green-skinned woman with blazing red hair.

It’s a fucking DRYAD, of all things. You thought they were a myth! And this one is walking right up to you. “Nice to see you Xana” she purrs, staring at your crotch, “I must say, I see why you were so keen to have him declared the town guest, he is simply magnificent.”

“Thanks” you blurt out, staring at the Dryad’s tits. She gives you an almost predatory smile.

“So chiseled” she marvels, walking forward to run a hand along your pecs. Dew gives her a nasty look, but she ignores it. “I’m afraid I can’t take too much of your time, but I hope we’ll meet again.”

“A do I” you say, trying to remember your manners. The Dryad walks off, her ass swaying sultrily much like Xana’s does. Dew gives you a little slap on the arm as you stare.

The rest of your trip to breakfast goes without incident. Arriving at the food stall, you find it to be a perfectly fine place, as clean as the rest of the town. The merchant running the place, a conservatively dressed and frumpy woman firmly in the “ignores you” category, hands out your food with a sigh.

Sitting down on a nearby bench to eat, you hungrily dig into your food, some sort of omelet. It’s good, though it can’t compete with Xana’s cooking. “I’d say the introduction went well” Dew says, “people seemed alright with you, Alfred.”

You give a small noise of appreciation, your mouth full of food. Suddenly, a shrill noise cries out from a short distance away.

“‘Ey! You lot got any coin?”