Otherworld Girlboss Pervert

If nothing else, Syber excelled at forcing Maple's hand; 10k steps came naturally when you had to walk everywhere. It was only a guess, but she'd bet she reached that goal every day so far.

Oh, you could pay a few coppers to have someone pull you around the city in a rickshaw-style wagon. They were shaded, had cushioned seats, and were actually a much faster way to travel thanks to the Skills a [Cart Puller] would get.

The 30 minute walk to SuQ Dairy wasn't ideal, but she wasn't about to waste coin for the sake of laziness. She felt the glass vial in her pocket. It might be better though, if Emma used one to get to and from work instead of exhausting herself. The Soap Slime's physiology just wasn't made for walking very far.

Actually, she could just carry her there like she was doing now. And go pick her up too. That might be cute even—like something a couple might do for one another.

Come to think of it, she hadn't even really been on an actual date with her girlfriend yet. Where could they—

"Out of the way! Out of the way!"

A Human pulling a rickshaw at full speed yelled out behind her. Her voice was high-pitched and distressed.

"Oh fu—"

Maple jumped out of the way. Her hair was yanked along by the wind coming off it as it passed just inches away. Others walking up ahead also dodged or fled.

In the rickshaw's seat was a wild-eyed Human man aiming a wand at the woman's head and demanding she run even faster. A bandanna concealed his face, and in his other hand was a sack of something.

"Now what's going on?"

It annoyed her more than anything—that is, until the man aimed the wand behind him. Maple ducked like the rest of the panicking crowd and tried to find cover. He was aiming at a group of guards running after him.

Before he could line up his shot, a sickening crunch followed by a scream echoed down the street as one man wasn't as lucky in dodging the rickshaw. He tripped and one of the large wooden wheels rolled right over his ankle.

The bump made the bandanna man lose his balance and nearly fall off the side of the rickshaw. He lost grip of the wand and it flipped through the air. He cursed and yelled a threat at the driver again. She hadn't seen him lose the weapon.

The rickshaw was out of sight as quickly as it'd appeared. A group of guards chased after them on foot. The Half-Elf man with the broken ankle was crying out in pain, and bystanders were already standing around him and trying to help.

Maple was frozen, still crouched behind a crate full of onions. The keeper of the stall nearby tapped her shoulder, startling her.

"Are you alright? They're gone now."

"Ah...Yeah."

Her heart was pounding. A wand in this world was the same as a loaded gun. They shot out anything from fireballs to conjured arrows. Luckily, she never found out what that one did.

More than that, it could have been her with a messed up leg. Or worse. She'd already watched him drink a potion, but apparently it hadn't been enough and his anguished moans continued.

She stood up with shaking legs and realized her hand was sore from where the angled glass of Emma's vial dug in while she death-gripped it. The stallkeeper pushed something into her other hand.

"You're okay. Care for an onion?"

"Yeah."

Maple started toward the man who'd been run over, and then decided she didn't want to see and continued past without so much as a glance. She wouldn't have been any help to him, anyhow. Would anyone there be any help? She doubted he'd get any 'proper' medical care.

Just like that and he was handicapped for life. Poor guy.

She shook it off and slowly felt better as she walked. She was safe. Emma was safe. Hey, the wand that guy dropped was still on the ground. Her eyes locked onto it. A smooth dark oak stick, wider at the bottom than the top.

Should she...pick it up? It wasn't safe to just leave lying around, right? But what if she shot someone with it? She had no idea how they were actually used. Could she activate it by accident? Why was there an onion in her hand?

Maple frowned at the root vegetable and glanced back the way she came. No really, why had he given her an onion? Werido.

She looked back to the wand in time to see a ragged child grab it. He had magenta scales running down his tail and a pair of angular horns. A Dragonkin boy.

"Hey wait—the wand. Someone stop him...?"

There was no one around to hear her but the child. He took off down an alley. Maple hesitated. It wasn't her problem, really. So what if a child got his hands on a dangerous weapon?

"Oh—damn it. Wait!"

She pursued him until he disappeared around a corner. By the time Maple reached it, he was nowhere to be seen. She shouldn't have hesitated.

"Shoot. Now what?"

It was probably worth reporting. Where would Bailey be? At the gate again? That was all the way on the other side of town. Any guard should be fine—they weren't exactly rare to come across. She'd find one on the way.

---

SuQ Dairy was in sight, and she still hadn't found a guard. On the way back then, she decided.

She neared the door, none other than Dragirth came sauntering out. In one hand was a basket with four bottles of milk. Sweat glistened off his burgundy scales. He didn't have his guard's uniform on.

Maple recognized him instantly and stopped herself from looking startled. If she didn't draw attention to herself then—

"Hey, it's you! Hah, Maple whatsit. Figures you'd be working here? You should've come a little sooner, I would have left ya a nice tip."

She groaned. Of all the guards she could have run into, why did it have to be him? On top of being annoying, she was already turning red as the embarrassment from the last time they'd seen each other was cashed in with interest.

"Ugh. What is that supposed to mean? I'm just here to sell milk."

"You don't know? Ask about the special services. Or tour day. Those are fun. Anyway, maybe next time eh?"

There was a bit more pep in his voice today. He made to leave, but Maple stopped him.

"Wait, you're a guard right? There was a thing earlier I think I should report."

"Oh? I'm off-duty. Can't you go tell someone who isn't?"

Part of Maple was a little happy to be annoying him.

"It's just that there was this crazy guy on a rickshaw and guards were chasing him. He had a wand, but he dropped it when they ran over another guy, and then this little kid picked it up and ran off with it. That's dangerous right? And the kid looked kind of, um, dirty. Like homeless maybe?"

Dragirth sighed and ran a hand down his neck-spines.

"Alright, fine. What did this kid look like?"

Maple described him, and Dragirth nodded.

"I'll let the city watch know, but it was probably just an urchin. He'll sell it and be able to eat for a few days. Is that all, oh-so concerned citizen?"

"Y-yeah."

"Okay, then. Bye."

It didn't seem like they were actually going to do anything about it—apparently 'urchins' running around with weapons was normal enough. Maple did her part, though.

Dragirth rolled his shoulders and looked to now be in a worse mood than he was before. Okay, she wasn't actually happy about that. No one liked having to work on their day off.

"Wait. Here, uh, have an onion."

He grabbed it reflexively and Maple left him behind before he could give it back. He called out after her.

"Why?"

Maple snickered as she entered the building.

Everything was immaculately clean, perhaps from magic or a very dedicated janitor. That and the bright magical lighting gave the facility a clinical feel. The air smelled clean too, almost like how hospitals did. Maztaran greeted her as soon as she entered, a devilish smile on his face.

"Miss Maple! I must say, I did not expect you back so soon. Or at all, truthfully. Have you changed your mind?"

"Hi, Maz. Yeah. I guess."

"Excellent. You'll be getting a fine rate, by the way. Don't mention it to the others—only causes problems."

He spoke conspiratorially and tapped a spot on the stack of forms he handed her. One silver per liter.

"And um, how many liters is normal?"

"It varies. You'll make less starting out until your body adapts to the process. Even without any physical changes, your body will become more efficient at producing milk once you've done it a handful of times. For you, I would guess maybe...two liters."

His eyes never left hers as he made the estimate.

"Right, okay. And twice a week is good if I don't want any..."

"Yes, stick to that and you won't have to worry about any physical changes. Thrice is where it becomes iffy, but a lot of people manage that long-term without any trouble as well."

Maple spent the next five minutes filling in the form and skimming the text. Two liters twice a week meant she could expect four silver a week. That was less than she'd earn from a job, but not by much.

Why was hers worth more though? Was it because she was human? Eugh, no, don't think about it. Just get some silver and leave. It's fine. It's just milk.

After the registration form was a process she'd have to do each time, apparently. She went to a room alone with Maz where he took her weight and then asked a series of questions. A small stone changed from white to green each time she answered.

"What's that?"

"A truth stone, Miss Maple. Just to ensure the accuracy of your answers."

It could tell if she was lying? That was weird, but not too invasive for the questions asked.

"Have you come into contact with any people you believe to be sick or ill?"

"No."

"Are you yourself currently sick or ill?"

"No."

"Do you have any known allergies?"

"No."

"Is there any reason you feel you shouldn't be donating milk?"

"No."

It turned orange that time. Maple panicked a little, but Maz was calm.

"Don't worry, Miss Maple. That wasn't quite truthful, but can you explain?"

"I-it's still gross."

"Ah, right. Okay, besides it being 'gross', is there any reason you feel you shouldn't be donating milk?"

"No."

Green that time. Maple breathed a sigh of relief. She would have been annoyed if she came all this way only to be sent home for failing that question.

"Great. That's it for the questions. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to a private donation room."

Maztaran led her through a hallway of doors. The ones currently in use were shut and had occupied signs on them. She followed him into an open one. The main piece of furniture was a reclining seat like one would use for a medical examination.

Next to it was the milking device. Two glass cups with leather hoses running from them rested on a stand. The device itself looked like a wooden shelf with space for a graduated glass jug that would be filled with milk.

Maz handed Maple a small vial of dark purple liquid. It was nearly black, and looked like it'd make her sick. Maz noticed the look she gave it and smiled.

"It's berry flavor, Miss Maple, and it looks worse than it tastes. Here's a glass you can fill with water from the sink if you'd like some. Drink that potion when you're ready to start producing milk. Then you'll simply attach these cups to yourself, and the milking process will begin. Self-explanatory, really."

He pressed a button on the machine and a slight whir became audible as the cups began sucking air.

"Use this knob to control the pressure, and this one the sucking speed. Use this button if you need it to stop. I trust you'll want privacy and can manage on your own? Any questions before I go?"

"Yeah, privacy. Um, no I don't think so."

"Great. If you need anything at all, ring that little bell and I'll be happy to assist. It's linked to another like it up front. The room does have a lock you can use, if that'll make you feel any more comfortable."

Maple thanked the Incubus and locked the door after him. She stared at the potion, wondering how bad it could be. And then she wondered if there was any possibility of side effects. Was it FDA approved? Was there any regulation at all? She bit her lip.