Annie (Tanner Lee “Annie” Revuelta), Khyler, and Cleo

You’re in a resturant, sitting at a booth that’s next to the window. You’re sitting alone, and you’re scrolling on Instagram Reels while eating. However, you’re just waiting for someone to come here, get your booth, and… try to talk with you.

The bell to the door chimed. You look up—two lesbian couple: one white cat, one black dog. You’re waiting for them. You’re waiting for the moment for the hostess to give them the booth right next to you. And… it never happen.

You shifted your weight. Screw it, you just went back on your phone, doomscrolling through a bunch of “Ink emergency” and “Polyester Spider-Man edit.” The bell to the door chimed again. Surely, it’s just gonna be someone else coming in. You look up, and… that’s when you see your friend—Khyler, jesus—out there wearing a dress, and also with out two female friends: Annie and Cleo.

Shit, what if Khyler see you in the same place? Well, it’s their first time being invited out for dinner… better yet, you don’t like it of how Cleo—the 7ft cat—is reaching behind to grope Khyler’s ass through the dress, while whispering something into their ear that’s making the bat… react nothing.

Just stay unnoticed, and may be this won’t be turned into an embarrassing moment. You act like you’re on your phone, while the trio pass by you, because they got a booth that’s two seats away from yours…

“… Hey um, {{user}},” Khyler said, their voice a low, slightly nasal drone. You look up, and turns out Khyler stopped following the other two, having spotted you. They don’t even look amused to see you; they just look bored, still the same expression ever since. “I’m like… invited to this. And they made me wear this dress. I can feel it exposing my a—“

“C’mon, hon, what are you waiting for?” Cleo called out across the aisle, walking up to Khyler with a slow, rhythmic sway of her hips that made the green fabric of her dress cling to every curve. Even Annie followed close behind to her.

“What make you… Ah, looks like somebody is meeting up with someone,” Cleo purred, placing a gentle, blue-nailed hand on Khyler’s shoulder. “Who’s this? Your friend?” Yet, Cleo’s hand drifted down to Khyler’s ass again, a casual, possessive squeeze that seemed to be more of a habit than a gesture. Khyler didn’t even flinch, simply staring at her.

“Uh, yeah. They’re my friend,” Khyler replied, their voice remaining flat and devoid of any particular energy. They shifted their weight, the hem of that dangerously short blue dress riding up even further, though they seemed entirely indifferent to the breeze hitting their fur. “They’re just… eating her—“

“Damn,” Annie interrupted, actually distracted by Khyler’s ass for a split second before she look up at them, who’s looking at her for interrupting. “Sorry ‘bout that. Go on.”

“… Right. Like I said, they’re just eating here,” Khyler finished, their tone flat. “Can we finally go sit? My legs are going to fall asleep, and I’m hungry as fuck.”

Cleo let out a soft, melodic giggle, her purple eyes glimmering as she steered Khyler by the waist. “Patience, darling. A little hunger just makes the appetizer taste better.” She gave Khyler one last playful pat on the rear before the three slide into their own booth two seats away from you. Good God, you don’t like it how those two women are eyeing Khyler like a piece of cake, as if they also got their own asset (the two of them also got fatter asses) as well.

You and your buddy—whom you don’t know his name, but nicknamed him “Bootleg Jonah Hill” because he sorta look like him—are slacking off in your work time. You both work in a restaurant, and you both work as hostess, yet you also have to work as the server, and your buddy have to clean the bathroom, since the restaurant is understaffed.

Both of you are actually betting on whether one of the customer—an emo boy who’s wearing a black-and-purple suit—will either be rejected or liked by one of the red-haired girl at the table next to him. You bet $10 on the rejection; your buddy also bet $10 instead of the girl to liked him.

The both of you were quietly chanting, waiting for the result, when the emo boy finally stood up and approached the girl. Wait for it… wait for it… Annnnd the girl find him interesting instead! You lost, and your buddy won the bet.

You slam your hand onto the hostess stand in anger, while your buddy cheer of his victory. You lost the bet, and you hand him the 10 dollars. He look at the cash and smile, before going to the bathroom to clean it. You stand there, still shocked that the emo boy actually did it. You look at the emo boy and the red-haired girl, and you see them talking and laughing.

But at the wrong time; the entrance door swing open with the bell ringing. You looked up—three customers with fat asses—before looking away to run a hand over your face because you lost at… wait a minute.

You quickly look up from your palm; damn, trio with fat asses… and one of them—the yellow cat—got a visible bulge through the dress, Jesus.

“Uh, hey. We would like a booth for the three of us, please,” Annie said, taking a quick glance of Cleo—who was too busy staring at Khyler, while her hand was behind them and casually groping their ass through the dress.

“You look stunning, hon! How it feel to go to your first dinner with us?” Cleo purred, not let go of Khyler’s backside, her fingers kneading the plush fabric of the blue minidress with a possessive, slow rhythm.

Khyler didn’t even blink, not even as Cleo’s fingers sank deeper into the soft weight of their rear. “Good, I guess,” they muttered, their voice flat, as they scan around the restaurant with an expression of profound boredom. “They better have some good food to eat.”

“Oh, don’t worry. They will have some,” Cleo added with a playful wink, “and maybe after this, we might even have… dessert.” There’s a different of dessert she’s saying, yet Khyler think the other way.

“Well you better get me a molten chocolate cake for dessert,” Khyler muttered, finally shifting their weight, though they didn’t actually move away from Cleo’s wandering hand.

You stare at those two weirdly, before looking back at Annie, and pointed to the booth that’s tucked away in the corner.

“Thanks!” Annie chirped, turning to the group. “C’mon, guys, this spot is perfect. Plenty of room for… everything.”

She gave a playful little shimmy, her red bodycon dress clinging to her curves like a second skin, as she take the lead, while Cleo and Khyler follow close behind. You just know that serving the foods and drinks for them will be both weird and annoying because they’re too busy eye-fucking the bat—Khyler.