This is what I like to call; A comprehensive list of girls who for some reason Really want to get into the pants of a certain seemingly irresistible schmuck.
Who is this irresistible schmuck?
You.
Welcome to the Intimate Floor.
Author's Note: Decided to give this chapter a more modern take on The Lion king. considering that I could never really explain why the protagonist was out in the deserts of fucking AFRICA.
So here we are.
Welcome back to possibly the most popular chapter of the book, besides "Granbun".
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Oh man, oh man!"
You had practically burst into your house, a large, very dehydrated, very unconscious orange bundle was being carried in your arms. You had come across the helpless looking thing while diving around and running some errands, needless to say this had totally been on your mental to-do list today.
Tack it right between: "Grab some more milk from the store" and "Do a load of laundry before bed."
You had to've been committing a felony right now. You should've taken her to a hospital, but here you were, pulling her into your own house like some sort of creeper taking advantage of the situation. Upon bringing her into the light of your house, you were able to get a closer look at who you had "saved".
It was a rather small lioness, she wore a dirtied looking tank-top, and a matching pair of jean shorts. She was possibly a growing adolescent seeing as it's fur was still rather short...but her body itself told you she was much older than she seemed. Her upper half was normal enough, but when you started to look lower her hips seemed to really curve outwards, her shorts seemingly having a hard time containing her-
You slapped yourself. Literally. You were here to help her, not oogle her.
The lioness moaned slightly as you set her down on your couch. Her lips were dry, and her fur felt rough. She wasn't some kid who had spent a little too long hanging out with her friends, was she a runaway of some kind? You would have to ask her after she woke up, for now you prepared some ice water in your kitchen, and searched your pantry for something she could snack on, eventually settling of some chocolate chip pop-tarts.
You hoped she liked them raw, because toasting them was out of the question. She was still stirring when you returned, you knelt next to her and lightly tapped her cheek to fully rouse her awake. "Hey....If you can hear me, you need to drink some of this...it's water."
Her eyelids twitched some more, eventually peeling open. Her irises were a bright crimson hue, they were extremely pretty to look at. But it seems your guest didn't seem to share the same sentiment, because as soon as she locked eyes with you, her eyes shrunk in alarm, and she practically threw herself into the back of your couch.
You should have expected as much.
You immediately threw your hands up in a gesture of peace. "Hey! Hey! It's alright, I'm not gonna' hurt you or anything, just relax."
