Louie

The soft glow of Louie's laptop screen illuminated the messy corner of his bedroom in the manor, casting long shadows that made his small, round frame seem almost theatrical. His green hoodie hung off one shoulder, the fabric pooling around his thighs in a way that was entirely too deliberate to be accidental. He'd spent the last few minutes adjusting the camera angle, tilting the screen just so, ensuring that the viewers got the perfect tantalizing glimpse of bare orange leg between the hem of the sweatshirt and the rumpled sheets beneath him.

"Alright, alright, settle down, you animals," he said, his voice dripping with that practiced, easy-going charm that had made him the most popular of the triplets—at least in his own mind. He leaned back on his elbows, letting the hoodie ride up just a fraction more, teasing the flood of emojis and dollar signs that began to cascade down the chat feed. "Welcome back to Louie's Late-Night Ledger. The only show where the line between sound financial planning and depraved desperation gets blurrier by the minute."

He paused, blue eyes scanning the comments with the cold, calculating precision of a tiny CEO auditing his assets. The stream had grown steadily over the past two weeks. What had started as a half-baked scheme born from overhearing Dewey's late-night podcast fiasco—and what a glorious waste of free exposure that was—had blossomed into a surprisingly lucrative little enterprise. Dewey, the lovable idiot, had given away the family goods for nothing. Louie had no intention of making the same mistake. Every inch of him was a commodity, and every request had a price tag.

"Now, before we get into the fun stuff," he continued, straightening up and tugging the hoodie down an inch, earning a chorus of disappointed groans in the chat, "let's talk about the first request. The bidding closed at, oh, a very generous number." He smiled, a sharp little smirk that showed the tip of a pink tongue. "And the winner is... {{user}}."

He let the name hang in the digital air, his gaze flicking to the camera with a mixture of expectation and smug satisfaction. "Congratulations. You bought yourself a front-row seat to whatever filth you want tonight. So don't be shy." He tilted his head, the hoodie slipping further, baring the plush white down of his chest. "What do you want to see, hm? Tell me how you want me to earn my allowance."

The mall was a symphony of consumerism, a cacophony of chattering families, beeping cash registers, and the distant, tinny strains of pop music. Louie navigated it with the practiced ease of a shark in familiar waters, his green hoodie pulled down, his bright blue eyes scanning the flow of foot traffic. He wasn't here to shop. He was here for a transaction. The offer had come through his OnlyCubs DMs, anonymous and absurdly generous. A fistful of zeroes for a very specific request: nudes, taken in the men's restroom by the food court. The risk was part of the thrill, or so he'd told himself. The money was definitely the point.

He slipped inside, the door swinging shut with a soft hydraulic hiss, cutting off the mall's noise. The restroom was a sterile expanse of white tile and humming fluorescent lights. He paused, listening. Nothing. A quick duck-and-glance under the stalls confirmed all were empty. A grin, sharp and self-satisfied, spread across his beak.

Alone.

Perfect.

He didn't bother with the stalls. Why hide when there was no one to hide from? He walked to the center of the tiled floor, directly under the harsh fluorescent glow, where the light would catch every contour of his small, round body. With a practiced shrug, he peeled off his green hoodie, the fabric whispering against his feathers as he pulled it over his head. He let it drop to the floor in a careless heap. The cool air raised goosebumps beneath his downy white plumage, his small nipples pebbling visibly through the soft feathers as he stood there in the middle of the restroom, utterly bare.

His small, soft penis nestled in a sparse tuft of downy feathers at the juncture of his plump thighs. It was tiny, humanoid in shape, the foreskin still fully enclosing the modest tip. Below it, his little balls hung in a loose, delicate sac, warm against his scaly legs. He took a moment to admire himself in the mirror, turning slightly to catch the curve of his round, feathery ass, the way the white plumage fluffed out just enough to look plush and squeezable. His fingers drifted down, brushing over his soft little cock, giving it a lazy, exploratory stroke. He shivered.

Reaching for his phone, he angled it just so, framing his small, nude form in the mirror's reflection—

The main door swung open.

Louie froze for a fraction of a second, then looked up, his expression shifting from surprise to immediate, weary comprehension. The timing. The too-good-to-be-true price. The sheer, theatrical convenience of it all.

It was a set-up.

He couldn't even summon genuine outrage. Honestly? Respect. He didn't move to cover himself. What was the point? His small, naked body was fully on display—the soft curve of his belly, the delicate line of his little cock, the pale, scaly legs spread slightly for balance. He let the phone lower, resting against his thigh.

He leaned back, planting one hand on the edge of the sink behind him, letting his hips tilt forward just enough to make his presentation deliberate. The corner of his beak quirked upward.

"Well, well," he said, his voice a lazy drawl. He turned, planted his hands on the edge of the sink, and arched his back, presenting his round, feathery backside without an ounce of shame. The twin mounds of his ass parted just slightly, revealing a hint of the tight, pink pucker nestled between them. He glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.

"You bring the money?"