The chrome-edged mirror reflected a riot of ink-blushed skin and synthetic fur, distorting Snow White's reflection between Tsunade's exaggeratedly bouncing cleavage and Misty's impatiently tapping fishnet-clad heel. "Honestly, Snow," Ariel's voice bubbled from a vanity cluttered with waterproof mascara, her crimson hair flicking droplets onto Jasmine's sequined hip. "If you blush any harder, you'll stain that corset permanently pink."
Snow's cheeks flared hotter, her gloved fingers tracing the tight satin cinching her waist. "It's just… tighter than Grumpy's frown after morning coffee," she stammered, the black fabric straining against her small B-cups.
Betty Boop's giggle cut through the humid air thick with hairspray and anticipation. "Tighter means *tantalizing*, sugar! Watch those hips sway when you carry the champagne tray—humans *love* a wobble they didn't pay for."
Nearby, Bulma adjusted her bunny ears with a scientific precision that clashed with Lola Bunny's languid stretch. "Focus on the tips, not the tights," Bulma advised dryly. "One spilled Cosmo on a designer suit, and you're polishing cutlery till sunrise."
Snow nodded, her breath catching as Meg leaned over her shoulder, pointing a fake-lashed eye toward the mirror. "See that curve?" Meg whispered, tracing Snow's silhouette in the air. "That's power. Use it."
Nami's orange hair brushed Snow's shoulder as she snatched a lipstick. "Power's useless if you freeze like a deer in headlights," she teased, painting her mouth a dangerous cherry red. "Last Tuesday, you dropped three oysters when Jessica Rabbit *breathed* near you." Snow's heart hammered against her ribs; cartoon hearts trembled into existence above her ink-black hair, bobbing like drunken fireflies.
Sango chuckled, strapping her boomerang holster over her bunny tail. "Easy, Princess. Just imagine the humans are slightly less terrifying than your stepmother's poison apples."
The dressing room door swung open, revealing the club's velvet-draped chaos beyond. Jasmine sighed, adjusting her strapless bodice. "Showtime, ladies. And Snow?" Her dark eyes softened. "Try not to let your eyeballs *actually* pop out if Jessica walks by. It scatters the ice cubes." Snow swallowed, the hearts above her pulsing faster as she followed the swaying cotton tails into the glittering din, her heels clicking like anxious crickets on the polished floor.
Momo Yaoyorozu entered, tray balanced with practiced ease, Callie Briggs at her elbow. "Holy *cats*," Callie breathed, her feline ears twitching beneath the satin bunny headband. "We just passed Jessica's dressing room—her vocal warm-up sounded like melted dark chocolate poured over velvet. If she sings like *that* tonight?"
Momo nodded, her own rabbit ears bobbing. "It won't just be the humans needing fresh linens. That voice could make a marble statue damp between the legs." Snow's breath caught—Jessica's imagined sultry vibrato seemed to coil low in her own belly, warm and liquid.
Panic flared—sharp and sudden—as Jessica's distant laughter echoed down the hall. Snow's gloved hand shot out, snatching the frosted martini glass from Momo's tray. "Snow, no—!" Ariel cried, bubbles bursting from her lips in alarm. But it was too late; Snow tipped the acidic-smelling gin down her throat, the burn searing her ink-lined esophagus like swallowed lightning. Her pupils instantly spiraled into kaleidoscopic pinwheels, steam hissing from her ears as her skull began to swell, distorting like a balloon animal.
"COVER!" Misty shrieked, yanking Tsunade's plunging neckline hard between her formidable breasts. The force sent Tsunade tumbling forward with an indignant yelp, her cleavage momentarily swallowing Misty's wrist as they crashed behind a velvet chaise. Bulma and Lola flattened themselves against the carpet like discarded paper dolls. Snow's torso elongated, her spine accordioning with a metallic *sproing*, her heels rocketing skyward as a high-pitched, teakettle whistle erupted from her glowing mouth—aimed squarely at the glittering chandelier overhead.
"Stars and garters!" Callie gasped, crouching beside Momo behind an overturned ottoman. "That gin hit her like a mallet to an anvil!" Snow's eyes spun violently—first crimson hearts, then spiraling galaxies, finally settling on neon-green dollar signs—as steam billowed from her ears in thick, cartoonish plumes smelling faintly of burnt licorice. Her skull pulsed, swelling to twice its size, skin stretching translucent like overfilled bubblegum.
Nami snatched Ariel's wrist, dragging her beneath a vanity. "Her head's gonna pop like a party favor!" Ariel whimpered, bubbles frothing nervously at her lips. Snow wobbled precariously on her elongated neck, the whistle pitch climbing to ultrasonic levels. Meg peered cautiously from behind a rack of feather boas. "Someone grab her ankles before she—"
*FWOOOOMPH!* Snow's skull exploded not with gore, but with a confetti cannon's worth of glittering pink stars and miniature, fluttering cartoon hearts that rained down silently onto the plush carpet. Her head instantly reformed, slightly lopsided, cheeks flushed violet. She blinked, eyes now perfectly round, spinning slowly like carnival rides. "...Jessica?" she slurred, swaying gently before her knees buckled, folding her neatly into a pastel origami crane atop Momo's abandoned martini tray.
From behind the chaise, Misty's voice sliced through the lingering steam. "Clear?" A muffled groan answered her.
Tsunade's furious, flushed face emerged first, her magnificent cleavage straining dangerously against the top edge of her corset bodysuit, which Misty's panicked yank had nearly peeled down to her navel. "You nearly popped me out like a cork from cheap champagne, Misty!" she hissed, wrestling the slippery satin back into place over her G-cups.
Momo scrambled out from behind the ottoman, her bunny ears askew. "I am *so* sorry!" she gasped, hands fluttering nervously. "I shouldn't have brought that tray near Snow—I know how gin affects toons! It was completely irresponsible!"
Ariel popped up beside the vanity. "Don't sweat it, Momo! Snow heard Jessica's name and panicked—that gin was just the unlucky bystander!"
Bulma peeled herself off the floor, smoothing her bodysuit with academic precision. "Indeed. Nobody told Snow to drink the damn thing in the first place. "
Tsunade shot Misty a glare sharp enough to puncture steel. "Irresponsible *and* assault!" she snapped, finally securing her bodice with a forceful tug. Misty merely leaned back against the chaise, a lazy, feline smirk spreading across her face. She puckered her lips exaggeratedly and blew a kiss upwards—a shimmering, crimson cartoon heart detaching itself and sailing through the air. It smacked squarely onto Tsunade's right cheekbone with a wet, audible *SMOOCH!*, leaving a faint, glowing lipstick mark. Tsunade sputtered, steam instantly jetting from her ears in furious, whistling plumes. Misty chuckled, low and smoky. "Just checking your reflexes, Blondie. Still top-notch."
"Still asking for trouble!" Tsunade roared, lunging forward with surprising speed for someone so generously endowed. Her hands aimed for Misty's shoulders, fingers curling like grappling hooks. Misty didn't flinch. Instead, with a mischievous wink, she executed a perfect, compact dive—not sideways, but *straight down*. Tsunade gasped as Misty's entire form vanished between the colossal swell of her breasts, disappearing into the shadowed canyon of her cleavage with a soft *fwump*. Tsunade froze mid-lunge, eyes wide, her furious expression momentarily replaced by utter disbelief. The steam from her ears sputtered out into confused puffs.
A collective giggle rippled through the recovering girls—Bulma snorted inelegantly, Ariel bubbled laughter, Lola muffled hers behind a paw. Then, slowly, Misty's head emerged from the deep valley, rising like a cheeky periscope. Her orange hair was slightly mussed, her grin triumphant. Before Tsunade could react, Misty surged upwards, planting a firm, deliberate kiss squarely on Tsunade's stunned lips. It was quick, decisive, and utterly disarming. Misty held Tsunade's gaze for a breathless second, her eyes sparkling with pure, unrepentant mischief. Then, with another impish smirk, she slid smoothly back down, vanishing once more into the warm depths, leaving Tsunade blinking rapidly, her cheeks flushed crimson beneath the fading lipstick mark, utterly speechless.
The dressing room door creaked open again, casting a long rectangle of light from the club hallway. Jessica Rabbit stood framed in the doorway, her silhouette impossibly elegant against the chaotic backdrop. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched upwards, taking in the scene: Momo wringing her hands near an overturned ottoman, Bulma and Lola peeling themselves off the floor, Ariel blinking bubbles away, Tsunade frozen mid-stride with Misty presumably nestled deep within her cleavage, and poor Snow White—a crumpled, pastel origami crane folded neatly atop a martini tray, her papery head lolling gently, violet cheeks puffing tiny steam clouds. Jessica's heavy-lidded green eyes swept the room, lingering on Snow's helpless form. A soft sigh escaped her impossibly red lips. "Oh, dear," she murmured, her voice like velvet dipped in honey, instantly silencing the lingering giggles. She glided forward, her stilettos clicking softly on the carpet, her gaze fixed solely on the folded princess. Without a word, she knelt gracefully beside the tray, her long opera gloves reaching out with surprising tenderness. Her fingers, cool and precise, began the delicate work of unfolding Snow's crumpled limbs, smoothing out the creases with practiced ease, coaxing the flattened paper crane back into the shape of a bewildered, ink-blushed girl.
Snow's eyes, still spinning slowly like mismatched carnival wheels, focused blearily on Jessica's face hovering inches above her own. Recognition dawned, followed by a fresh wave of violet blush spreading from her cheeks down her neck. Before Snow could stammer an apology or another teakettle whistle, Jessica leaned down. Her expression was unreadable, calm and focused. She pressed her full, crimson lips firmly against Snow's own flat, rose-red ones. Snow's eyes widened into spinning spirals, her entire paper-flat body stiffening. Jessica inhaled deeply, her chest rising magnificently, and then *blew*. It wasn't a gentle puff; it was a steady, powerful stream of air, warm and smelling faintly of expensive perfume and stage lights. Snow's flattened form instantly inflated with a soft *whoomp* – ribs snapping back into place, limbs filling out, curves swelling beneath the black corset. Her ink-black hair fluffed out, the bunny ears settling back atop her head. She landed back on the tray with a soft *thump*, fully restored, blinking rapidly, her cheeks blazing crimson. Jessica leaned back, a small, enigmatic smile playing on her lips. Snow stammered, her voice thin and shaky, "Th-thank you, Miss Jessica! I'm so sorry about the… the…" she gestured vaguely at the glittering pink stars still littering the carpet.
Jessica's smile deepened, softening the coolness in her eyes. She reached out, her gloved hand surprisingly gentle as she brushed a stray lock of ink-black hair from Snow's forehead. "Don't fret, little bird," she murmured, her voice a low purr. Then, with a fluid motion, she leaned in again, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss onto Snow's burning right cheek. Snow gasped, cartoon hearts instantly exploding into existence above her head, pulsing violently. Jessica straightened, her statuesque form towering over the trembling princess. "Just breathe," she advised softly, her gaze lingering on Snow's flustered face for a heartbeat longer. Without another word, she turned with effortless grace, her sequined dress catching the light like liquid rubies as she walked towards the door. Her hips swayed with hypnotic precision, each step a declaration of impossible poise, the high slit revealing a flash of stockinged thigh before she vanished into the hallway's dim light, leaving the scent of orchids and quiet awe behind.
Meg sauntered over to the still-paralyzed Tsunade, whose flushed face was a mixture of lingering fury and utter bewilderment. Meg's grin was pure mischief as she eyed the impressive canyon of Tsunade's cleavage. "Alright, Blondie," Meg announced, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear, "show's over! Time to cough up the prize!" With theatrical flourish, Meg plunged her hand deep down Tsunade's bodice, elbow-deep in the yielding softness. Tsunade yelped indignantly. Meg wiggled her arm dramatically, her brow furrowed in mock concentration. "Ah-ha!" she exclaimed triumphantly. With a slick, wet *schloop* sound, she pulled Misty out by the scruff of her bunny-suited neck. Misty emerged blinking, her orange hair tousled, her grin wide and unrepentant, dangling like a sleek, wet kitten. Meg held her aloft, presenting her to the recovering girls with a wink. "See? What'd I tell ya? Best trick in the house!" Meg chuckled, shaking Misty gently. "Forget rabbits – the *real* magic is pulling Playboy Bunnies out of deep cleavages!" Lola Bunny snorted, Ariel giggled bubbles, and even Bulma cracked a reluctant smile. Misty just grinned wider, dangling comfortably, while Tsunade finally found her voice, steam hissing faintly from her ears once more. "Put. Her. Down!"
Jasmine clapped her hands sharply, the sound cutting through the lingering giggles like a whip crack. "Enough!" Her dark eyes swept the chaotic room – glittering stars still settling on the carpet, Momo apologizing profusely to Bulma, Tsunade trying to smooth her thoroughly rumpled bodice, Misty now deposited unceremoniously on her feet beside Meg, and Snow trembling like a leaf, her cartoon hearts pulsing violently above her head. Jasmine's voice was firm, carrying the effortless authority of a princess used to managing unruly subjects. "The club doors are open. Humans are already filling the tables and crowding the bar," she stated, gesturing pointedly towards the hallway where muffled chatter and clinking glasses confirmed her words. "This," she continued, sweeping a hand to encompass the dressing room disaster zone, "is not the opening act anyone paid for. Out. Now. All of you." Her gaze landed pointedly on Tsunade and Misty. "Especially you two. Sort yourselves out *on the floor*, not in here." Jasmine didn't wait for arguments. She turned on her heel, her sequined hips swaying decisively as she strode towards the door, clearly expecting immediate obedience.
The command acted like a starting pistol. Ariel giggled, grabbing Nami's wrist. "Race you to the oyster station!" she bubbled, dragging the navigator towards the exit.
Bulma adjusted her bunny ears with precise annoyance. "Honestly, the scientific inefficiency of this entire spectacle…" she muttered, following Lola Bunny, who stretched languidly before sauntering out with practiced feline grace for a rabbit. Momo hurried after them, still murmuring apologies.
Meg gave Misty a playful shove towards the door. "C'mon, Trouble. Let's see if you can flirt without causing structural damage." Misty shot Tsunade a final, impish grin and skipped out. Only Snow remained frozen near her martini tray pedestal, her violet blush deepening as she stared at the spot where Jessica had stood moments before.
Tsunade, still smoothing her bodice with fierce concentration, paused beside her. She didn't look at Snow directly, but her gruff voice was surprisingly gentle. "Kid," Tsunade muttered, her gaze fixed on the hallway where Jasmine had vanished, "stop looking like a kicked puppy. She kissed your cheek, inflated you like a beach ball, and told you to breathe. That's practically a declaration in Rabbit-speak." Tsunade finally glanced down at Snow's wide, spinning eyes and violently pulsing cartoon hearts. A flicker of something almost like sympathy crossed her face, quickly masked by her usual exasperation. "Now move it before Jasmine sends Grumpy back here with a mop bucket." With that final, brusque command, Tsunade strode out, leaving Snow alone amidst the glittering pink stars and the fading scent of orchids.
Snow stood rooted, Tsunade's words echoing strangely in her gin-fogged mind. *A declaration?* The cartoon hearts above her head pulsed faster, showering tiny pink sparks onto her shoulders. Her fingers fluttered nervously against the tight satin corset. Jessica's kiss still burned on her cheek, a phantom warmth contrasting sharply with the lingering chill of her paper-flat panic. She inhaled shakily, trying to follow Jessica's simple advice – *Just breathe*. The air tasted of hairspray, spilled gin, and something else… something warm and velvety, like Jessica's voice itself. Slowly, deliberately, Snow straightened her spine. The club's muffled roar beckoned – the clinking glasses, the low thrum of bass, the rising tide of human laughter. Her gaze drifted towards the door Jasmine had commanded them through. Out there, amidst the velvet shadows and sparkling lights, Jessica Rabbit was moving, breathing, singing soon. Snow's small hand pressed against her corseted ribs, feeling the frantic cartoon thump-thump-thump beneath the ink-black satin. It wasn't panic this time. It was something hotter, brighter, infinitely more terrifying and exhilarating. A tiny, determined smile touched her rose-red lips. She took one more deep breath, smoothed her bunny ears, and stepped forward, her black heels clicking purposefully on the polished floor as she followed the scent of orchids and possibility into the glittering din.
The main floor of the club was a sensory assault – a kaleidoscope of flashing lights, swirling smoke machines, and the deep throb of bass vibrating through the soles of Snow's stilettos. Human guests packed the velvet banquettes and crowded the chrome-edged bar, their faces flushed with expensive liquor and the thrill of proximity to animated fantasy. Snow navigated the chaos with practiced grace, weaving between clusters of chattering patrons, her tray of frosty champagne flutes balanced precariously.
Nearby, Betty Boop giggled, dodging a portly businessman's wandering hand. "Oh, sugar!" Betty chirped, expertly twisting away, her hips swaying in a way that made his eyes bulge. "Hands on the merchandise cost extra!"
Across the room, Bulma delivered a tray of cosmopolitans to a group of sleekly dressed women, her expression coolly professional even as one woman's fingers slid appreciatively over Bulma's corseted hip. "Focus on the *drinks*, ladies," Bulma murmured dryly, "not the packaging."
Snow caught Misty's bright orange hair near the bar. Tsunade, magnificent cleavage barely contained by her straining corset, slammed down a row of tequila shots with impressive force. Misty leaned over the polished wood, her grin wide and predatory. "Make mine a double, Blondie," Misty purred, sliding a bill across the bar. "And hold the ice." Tsunade's glare could have frozen lava, but her hands moved with practiced efficiency, pouring the golden liquid. As Misty reached for the glass, her fingers deliberately brushed Tsunade's knuckles, lingering a fraction too long.
Tsunade snatched her hand back as if burned, steam hissing faintly from her ears. "Order's up," Tsunade growled, shoving the glass forward. "Now scram before you cause another avalanche."
Snow delivered her champagne to a laughing group near the stage, her eyes constantly scanning the smoky periphery. Where was *she*? The anticipation was a physical thing, coiling tight in Snow's belly, hotter than the gin had been.
Human men chuckled nearby, their eyes glued to Nami's retreating form as she delivered cocktails, one reaching out to give her sequined rear an appreciative squeeze. Nami didn't flinch, just shot him a dazzling, dangerous smile over her shoulder. "Touch the merchandise, pay the price," she warned, her voice like honeyed steel. He grinned, pulling out his wallet.
Elsewhere, Ariel giggled as a group of women admired her animated body in her tight bodysuit. One woman, emboldened by champagne, slid a daring finger into the deep V of Ariel's neckline, tracing the swell of her small breast. Ariel's laughter bubbled higher, a musical chime. "Careful," she teased, "that tickles!"
Snow felt a flush creep up her own neck, watching the casual intimacy. Her gaze drifted back towards the bar. Misty had returned, giving another order while Tsunade mixed complicated cocktails for a demanding trio. Each time Misty leaned forward to order another round for her table, her fingers would "accidentally" dip into the shadowed valley of Tsunade's cleavage as she passed the order slip. Tsunade's jaw clenched tighter each time, her knuckles white on the shaker, but she never looked up, focusing fiercely on the precise pour of Chartreuse. Snow understood Misty's persistence now – the forbidden thrill of provoking that magnificent fury, the electric tension crackling between them. It was a game, sharp-edged and intoxicating. And Snow suddenly knew exactly what she wanted to play.
Suddenly, the throbbing bass cut out mid-beat. A collective gasp rippled through the club as every dazzling overhead light plunged into darkness, leaving only the ghostly glow of exit signs and the frantic blinking of forgotten smartphones. A single spotlight sliced through the smoky haze like a blade, pinning the heavy red velvet curtains drawn shut across the stage. Silence, thick and anticipatory, fell over the room.
"Move! Move!" A man's voice barked nearby, followed by the scrape of chairs. Tables near the stage became a sudden scrum as human men jostled for position, craning necks, drinks hastily abandoned. "Can't see a damn thing back here!" another complained loudly, shoving his way forward.
Beside Snow, a woman hissed at her companion, "Quick, my compact!" The sharp click of a compact opening echoed, followed by frantic powdering sounds. All around, women leaned forward subtly or not-so-subtly, adjusting necklines, pushing cleavage higher, smoothing skirts tight over thighs – a silent, competitive shimmer in the dimness. Even the toons froze. Ariel stopped mid-pour, champagne bubbling over the rim unnoticed onto her tray. Bulma's precise calculations seemed forgotten, her eyes fixed on the curtain. Nami subtly shifted her weight, one hand drifting to her own hip, her bottom lip caught thoughtfully between her teeth. Near the bar, Tsunade paused, a bottle suspended mid-air, her gaze locked on the stage. Misty, leaning against the bar beside her, didn't tease this time; her fingers unconsciously traced a slow circle on her own thigh through the thin fabric of her nude stockings, her eyes wide and unblinking.
But Snow was already pressed against the cool chrome edge of a service station, her breath shallow. Every ounce of her focus, every flicker of her ink-drawn being, was consumed by the silent red curtain bathed in that harsh white light. Her small hands gripped the metal rail until her knuckles threatened to puncture the ink skin. The frantic thumping in her chest wasn't panic anymore; it was a drumroll, a countdown echoing the pounding bass that had just ceased. *Jessica*. The name was a silent scream inside her skull, louder than the rustle of silk or the clink of ice settling in abandoned glasses. The velvet barrier felt like the edge of the world, and beyond it lay everything. Her eyes strained, desperate for the first tremor of movement, the first glimpse of crimson sequins catching the light. The air crackled, thick with perfume, sweat, and the electric charge of collective yearning. Snow leaned forward, oblivious to everything else – the jostling men, the preening women, the frozen tableau of her fellow toons. Only the curtain mattered. Only what, who, was about to emerge from behind it. Her lips parted slightly, a silent plea forming. *Now*.
From behind the impenetrable velvet, a low, smoky saxophone coiled into the silence like a serpent emerging from velvet shadows. Its notes were thick as spilled ink, languid and impossibly smooth, curling tendrils of sound that slithered through the darkness, wrapping around spines and tightening around throats. Then, cutting through the saxophone's purr like a knife through silk, *her* voice: "You had plenty of money..." It wasn't just sung; it was poured. Jessica Rabbit's contralto resonated, rich and dark as aged bourbon, each syllable weighted with a knowing weariness that hinted at decadence long past. "...back in nineteen, twenty-two..." The final syllables stretched, luxuriant and teasing, hanging in the air like smoke rings.
Snow's breath vanished entirely. The sound vibrated deep within her core, a physical tremor that made her knees weaken against the chrome rail. It wasn't merely heard; it was *felt*, a low thrumming against her ink-drawn skin beneath the tight satin corset, resonating in her hollow cartoon bones. Her cartoon hearts pulsed violently, showering pink sparks onto the floor like frantic fireflies trapped in a jar.
The heavy curtains trembled, then parted with agonizing slowness. First, a sliver of crimson sequins caught the spotlight's glare, blindingly bright. Then, impossibly lush, impossibly curved, the smooth, flawless side of Jessica's right G-cup breast emerged, a perfect swell of ink-drawn flesh pushing past the velvet edge. A collective gasp tore through the club, sharp and involuntary. Jessica pushed through the widening gap, not with hesitation, but with the languid confidence of a queen claiming her throne. Her hands rested firmly on her cinched waist, fingers splayed possessively over the sharp inward curve that flared dramatically into her broad, swaying hips. The spotlight embraced her entire form: the impossible hourglass silhouette, the shimmering red dress clinging like liquid rubies, the impossibly long legs revealed by the thigh-high slit. Behind her, silhouetted against the dimly lit stage, the Toon Crows hunched over gleaming brass instruments – saxophone, trumpet, trombone – their beaks working the valves with frantic precision, producing the smooth, utterly human jazz that pulsed beneath her voice. Jessica's gaze swept the rapt audience, heavy-lidded and indifferent. "You let other women," she sang, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur that somehow pierced the silence, "...make a fool..." She began a slow, deliberate walk away from the center of the stage, hips rolling with an innate, mesmerizing rhythm. "...outta you." Each step was a deliberate punctuation, the spike of her pink stiletto clicking on the stage like a metronome marking time for captivated hearts.
Snow's jaw actually hit the floor with a soft *thud*, her eyes straining forward on cartoon stalks, drinking in every impossible detail. The scent of Jessica's orchids cut through the club's haze, sharp and intoxicating.
Jessica reached the far wall, the sequins of her dress catching the spotlight like scattered rubies. She turned smoothly, leaning her back against the cool plaster, and began to slide down slowly, deliberately, her spine tracing the surface inch by inch. The movement elongated her impossibly long legs, the slit of her dress falling open to reveal the sheer pink stocking stretched taut over her thigh. Her voice, lower now, smoky and intimate, curled around the suddenly silent room: "Why don't you do right..." She paused, her heavy-lidded gaze sweeping the mesmerized crowd, lingering for a heartbeat on Snow's frozen form near the service station. "...Like some other men do?" The words were a velvet-wrapped sigh, resonant with weary disappointment and a hint of dangerous promise. Her gloved hand slid languidly down her own hip, fingers tracing the curve where satin met skin.
With Jessica not half way finished yet, Misty got behind the bar to stand next to Tsunade.
Jessica's gaze swept the crowd, heavy-lidded and impossibly distant, until it landed on Jasmine near the stage's edge. The music swelled—a brassy groan from the Toon Crows—as Jessica extended a languid hand, her purple opera glove shimmering. "Darling," she murmured, her voice thick as spilled honey, "a little assistance?" Jasmine's eyes widened, but she didn't hesitate, reaching up with her right hand. Jessica's fingers closed over hers, cool and firm. "Steady now," Jasmine breathed, guiding Jessica's stiletto onto a cocktail table littered with abandoned glasses. Ice cubes scattered like diamonds. "Almost there," Jasmine coaxed, shifting her grip as Jessica stepped gracefully onto an empty chair, its velvet upholstery sighing under her weight. "Last step," Jasmine whispered, bracing herself as Jessica descended, her sequined hip brushing Jasmine's side as she landed soundlessly on the floor. The scent of orchids enveloped them—heady, intimate.
Jessica didn't release Jasmine's hand. Instead, she lifted her left palm, cool satin sliding against Jasmine's flushed cheek. Jasmine froze, her breath catching audibly. Jessica leaned in, impossibly close, her lips hovering a hair's breadth from Jasmine's. The club held its breath—glasses paused mid-sip, whispers died. Jessica's eyes, heavy with kohl and something darker, locked onto Jasmine's. "If you had prepared," Jessica sang, her voice a smoky caress that vibrated through Jasmine's jawbone, "twenty years ago..." The words curled like smoke, intimate and accusing. Jasmine's pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the distant trumpet wail. Jessica's thumb traced the curve of Jasmine's cheekbone, a phantom touch that left ink-static tingling beneath the skin.
Then, abruptly, Jessica pulled away. She turned, a ripple of crimson sequins catching the spotlight, and drifted across the crowded floor like a phantom. Men scrambled aside, drinks sloshing; women pressed hands to throats. Jessica moved with liquid grace, her gaze fixed on Nami, who stood frozen near a chrome service pillar, her E-cups straining against her sequined bodice. Before Nami could blink, Jessica's arms were around her neck, cool satin gloves sliding against Nami's bare shoulders. Jessica pressed forward, her formidable G-cups flattening firmly against Nami's own E-cups—a soft, yielding pressure that forced the air from Nami's lungs in a startled gasp. The contact sent a jolt through Nami's cartoon frame, a sensation like warm honey poured directly onto her sternum, spreading down her ribs. Jessica tilted her head, lips brushing Nami's earlobe as she sang, her voice resonant and low, "You wouldn't be a-wandering now from door to door..." Nami felt the vibration thrumming through Jessica's chest and into her own, syncing their heartbeats for a single, dizzying moment.
Jessica released her as suddenly as she'd embraced her, leaving Nami swaying slightly, her cheeks flushed crimson beneath her ink. Without missing a beat, Jessica pivoted, her stiletto heels clicking a sharp rhythm on the polished floor as she advanced toward Sango, who was leaning against the bar, her boomerang holster visible above her bunny tail.
Sango straightened, eyes widening as Jessica stopped inches away. "Why don't you do right," Jessica murmured, her voice dropping to a husky whisper that somehow carried over the rapt silence. She stepped smoothly behind Sango, her hands sliding up Sango's sides beneath her arms, tracing the curve of her ribs through the thin satin bodysuit. Sango froze, a sharp intake of breath hissing between her teeth as Jessica's cool satin-gloved fingers mapped the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips. The touch was deliberate, possessive—each fingertip a precise point of contact that seemed to short-circuit Sango's nerves, leaving trails of tingling warmth radiating outward. "Like some other men do?" Jessica finished, her lips brushing the shell of Sango's ear, her breath warm and scented faintly of orchids and gin. Sango shuddered, a full-body tremor that made her bunny tail twitch violently against Jessica's thigh.
Jessica released her, gliding away with that liquid stride, her gaze sweeping past Tsunade mixing furious cocktails behind the bar, past Misty leaning beside her with folded arms, past Momo nervously wiping a tray. Her eyes landed, sharp and assessing, on Bulma. Bulma stood rigidly by the service station, her posture stiff, her scientific detachment momentarily frayed. Jessica approached, her hips rolling with languid purpose. Jessica stopped before her, impossibly close. The club's collective breath seemed suspended. Jessica's voice, low and resonant, sliced through the silence: "Get out of here." Bulma blinked, confusion flickering across her features. Before she could react, Jessica's gloved hands lifted, palms open. They settled gently, almost reverently, over Bulma's D-cup breasts beneath the snug black satin of her bodysuit. Bulma gasped, a sharp, choked sound. Jessica's thumbs moved in slow, deliberate circles over the stiff peaks of Bulma's nipples, the friction palpable even through the fabric. The touch wasn't rough, but it was firm, claiming, sending visible tremors through Bulma's frame. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, clashing violently with her blue hair. "Get me some money to," Jessica sang, her voice a smoky command that vibrated against Bulma's collarbone. Her fingers lingered, pressing just enough to make Bulma's breath hitch audibly, before she withdrew, leaving Bulma trembling, her hands clenched uselessly at her sides.
Without hesitation, Jessica pivoted, her crimson sequins flashing like danger signals. Her stride carried her directly toward Callie Briggs, who was frozen mid-task near a velvet chaise lounge, smoothing a wrinkled napkin. Jessica's approach was unhurried, inevitable. Callie's feline ears flattened instinctively against her headband. Jessica stopped inches away, her presence enveloping. "Get out of here," Jessica murmured, her voice a velvet-wrapped whisper that somehow silenced the distant clink of ice. Before Callie could process the words, Jessica's hands—cool satin and surprising strength—settled firmly on Callie's shoulders. With a gentle, yet utterly undeniable pressure, Jessica guided Callie backward. Callie stumbled slightly, her legs buckling until her backside hit the plush cushion of an empty chair tucked beside the chaise. Callie blinked up, wide-eyed, a flush creeping up her neck.
Jessica didn't pause. With liquid grace, she sank smoothly onto Callie's lap. The contact was immediate, intimate—the warm weight of Jessica's hips settling firmly against Callie's thighs, the curve of Jessica's lower back pressing into Callie's abdomen. Callie gasped, her breath catching sharply as the sheer heat radiating through Jessica's thin red dress seeped into her own satin bodysuit. Jessica leaned in close, impossibly close, her full lips hovering a breath away from Callie's. Callie could smell the orchids, the faint tang of gin, and something uniquely Jessica—warm ink and expensive perfume. Jessica's green eyes, heavy-lidded and impossibly deep, locked onto Callie's. "Get me some money to," Jessica sang, her voice dropping to a husky, resonant whisper that vibrated directly into Callie's jawbone. The warmth of Jessica's breath brushed Callie's lips, a phantom kiss promised and withheld. Callie's hands hovered uselessly in the air beside Jessica's hips, trembling, utterly paralyzed by the sheer, overwhelming proximity and the deep thrum of Jessica's voice resonating within her own chest.
Without warning, Jessica rose. She pivoted sharply, her crimson sequins flashing under the spotlights like scattered rubies. Her stride was deliberate, unhurried, carrying her directly toward the chrome service station where Momo stood frozen, clutching an empty tray like a shield. Momo's knuckles were white beneath her gloves, her bunny ears tilted forward in alarm. Jessica stopped inches from the table Momo leaned against, her presence filling the space with palpable heat and the lingering scent of orchids. "Why don't you do right," Jessica murmured, her voice smoky and low, yet slicing cleanly through the club's hushed anticipation. She slid smoothly onto the polished chrome surface of the table, the metal groaning faintly under her weight. She crossed her right leg over her left, the slit of her dress falling open to reveal the sheer pink stocking stretched taut over her thigh, the spike of her stiletto gleaming dangerously. The movement drew every eye—the deliberate placement of her leg, the curve of her calf, the impossible length revealed.
Jessica's gaze, heavy with kohl and something darker, locked onto Momo's wide eyes. Momo swallowed hard, her breath shallow. Jessica leaned forward slightly, her posture languid yet predatory. "Like some other men..." Jessica sang, her voice dropping to a resonant whisper that seemed to coil around Momo's spine. Then, in one fluid motion, Jessica slid off the table. She leaned forward over its surface, her upper body bridging the gap between them. Her sequined bodice strained with the movement, the deep V of her neckline plunging dangerously. Her face was now mere inches from Momo's, her breath warm against Momo's cheek. Momo could see the faint shimmer of lavender eyeshadow, the impossibly long lashes framing those hypnotic green eyes. Jessica's gloved hand shot out, not toward Momo's face or arm, but directly between Momo's E-cup breasts. Her fingers closed firmly, possessively, on the tight satin bodysuit covering Momo's sternum. The grip was strong, insistent—a claiming touch that pulled Momo forward abruptly, off-balance.
Momo gasped, stumbling against the table's edge. Jessica's grip held her fast, hauling her impossibly close until their bodies were nearly flush. Momo's tray clattered forgotten to the floor. The sheer proximity was overwhelming—the heat radiating from Jessica's skin through the thin satin glove, the intoxicating scent of orchids and gin enveloping her, the soft pressure of Jessica's formidable G-cups brushing against her own E-cups. Jessica's lips parted, hovering a hair's breadth from Momo's mouth. Momo could feel the vibration starting deep in Jessica's chest as she drew in a slow, deliberate breath. Jessica held the note low, resonant, vibrating the air between them. "Doooooo..." The sound wasn't just heard; it was felt—a deep, resonant thrum that resonated in Momo's own ribcage, syncing their heartbeats for a suspended moment. The single note stretched, impossibly long, vibrating against Momo's lips like a phantom kiss, warm and intimate.
Jessica released her grip abruptly. The sudden absence made Momo sway. Jessica pivoted, a cascade of crimson sequins catching the spotlight, and glided back towards the stage. The final chords of the Toon Crows faded into a stunned silence. Then, like a dam bursting, the room erupted. Humans leapt to their feet, clapping wildly, whistles piercing the air. A few women fanned their flushed faces vigorously. Across the club, the toon girls stood frozen, their eyes transformed into pulsing, oversized cartoon hearts—Sango's big breasts bounce with her heavy breathing, Ariel blew bubbles shaped like tiny hearts, Nami's cheeks flushed crimson beneath her ink, and Bulma clutched her chest where Jessica's hands had been. Snow, holding a martini tray near the bar, let out a tiny, dreamy sigh; cartoon hearts bloomed above her head like a halo. Jessica walked away, her hips swaying with liquid grace, each step a deliberate roll that seemed to echo the fading applause.
Behind the bar, Misty breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The lingering scent of Jessica's orchids mixed with the sharp tang of spilled gin and Tsunade's own potent perfume. Misty turned sharply to Tsunade, her eyes wide, pupils dilated. Without a word, Misty pushed herself up onto her tiptoes, her small frame straining against Tsunade's formidable height. Her slim arms, still clad in white satin gloves, shot out and wrapped tightly around Tsunade's neck, pulling her down with surprising strength. Misty's lips crashed against Tsunade's in a kiss that was pure, unadulterated fire—desperate, demanding, fueled by the charged atmosphere Jessica had left behind. Tsunade's startled grunt was muffled instantly. Simultaneously, thick plumes of cartoon steam erupted from both women's ears with a sharp *PSSSSHHHH!*, smelling faintly of burnt cinnamon and ozone. The steam curled upwards, visible proof of the kiss's scorching intensity, obscuring their faces for a moment before dissipating into the smoky air. Tsunade's hands, initially frozen mid-pour, slowly came up to grip Misty's waist, pulling her closer against the polished bar top.
The lingering steam curled upwards as Tsunade deepened the kiss, her hands sliding down Misty's spine to press firmly against the small of her back. Misty arched into the contact, a muffled sound escaping her throat—part gasp, part groan—vibrating against Tsunade's lips. The scent of Tsunade's expensive perfume, something dark and floral like night-blooming jasmine, mingled with Misty's own adrenaline-sharp sweat and the phantom heat of Jessica's performance. Tsunade's thumb traced small, insistent circles just above the curve of Misty's bunny tail, the friction palpable through the thin satin of her bodysuit. Misty's fingers tangled tighter in Tsunade's elaborate updo, pulling pins loose with a soft metallic *ping* against the bar tiles. The kiss shifted, becoming less frantic, more exploratory—a slow, deliberate mapping of mouths and teeth and shared breath. Misty's knee slid forward, nudging between Tsunade's thighs, pressing against the firm muscle beneath her own skirt. Tsunade responded with a low hum that resonated deep in her chest, a vibration Misty felt travel down her own spine. The steam from their ears had lessened to a thin, persistent wisp, but the heat between them remained palpable, radiating outwards like a furnace.
"Still mad?" Misty breathed against Tsunade's lips when they finally parted, her voice thick and unsteady. Her fingers, still tangled in Tsunade's loosened hair, slid down to cup the formidable swell of Tsunade's G-cup breast through the silk Playboy bunny girl suit. She squeezed experimentally, the soft, yielding weight filling her palm completely, the stiff peak of Tsunade's nipple pressing insistently against the fabric. Misty's thumb brushed over it in a slow, deliberate circle, watching Tsunade's eyelids flutter. Her other hand drifted lower, tracing the pronounced dip of Tsunade's waist before settling possessively on her hipbone. Misty tilted her head back, her gaze locking onto Tsunade's flushed face. "About earlier?" Misty clarified, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "When I dove into all *this*?" She emphasized her point with another firm squeeze, her thumb circling faster now.
Tsunade's breath hitched audibly, her own hands tightening reflexively on Misty's waist. A faint blush crept up Tsunade's neck, clashing with the deeper flush already staining her cheeks. Before Tsunade could formulate a reply—whether scolding or surrender—Misty pushed herself impossibly closer, leveraging her grip on Tsunade's breast to pull herself upwards. Her slim, shapely legs wrapped instantly around Tsunade's narrow waist, locking at the ankles just above the swell of Tsunade's hips. Her heels dug into the small of Tsunade's back, anchoring her. Misty leaned in until their foreheads touched, her breath warm against Tsunade's lips. "Can I dive back down?" Misty asked, her voice a low purr vibrating with intent. "Into that deep, deep cleavage? Right now?"
Snow watched, mesmerized, from the edge of the service station. The raw, unscripted intimacy unfolding between Misty and Tsunade—the desperate kiss, the possessive grip, Misty clinging like a vine—sent a jolt through Snow's own nervous system. It wasn't just the physicality; it was the sheer, unapologetic *want* radiating from them, a tangible force that seemed to push back the lingering haze of Jessica's performance. Snow saw Misty's fingers kneading Tsunade's breast, heard Tsunade's low groan vibrate in the suddenly quiet space behind the bar. The cartoon hearts above Snow's head pulsed brighter, faster, shifting from soft pink to a vibrant, electric crimson. Misty's boldness—asking for exactly what she desired, clinging shamelessly—cut through Snow's ingrained caution like a knife through ink. Her own small B-cups felt suddenly tight against the corset's boning, a phantom echo of Misty's confident squeeze. The lingering dizziness from the gin evaporated, replaced by a sharp, crystalline clarity. If Misty could demand entry into Tsunade's formidable cleavage with such breathtaking audacity… Snow's gaze flickered past the entwined figures, past Momo still trembling slightly by the chrome station, toward the velvet curtain leading backstage. Jessica's dressing room. Her heart hammered against her ribs, not with fear this time, but with a fierce, burgeoning resolve. The courage wasn't a slow bloom; it ignited, sudden and fierce, fueled by Misty's legs locked around Tsunade's waist, by Tsunade's yielding groan. Snow straightened her spine, the fake bunny ears atop her head tilting forward with determination.
Without another moment's hesitation, Snow turned away from the bar. Her heels clicked decisively on the polished floor, a sharp counterpoint to the muffled sounds behind her. She navigated the lingering clusters of patrons still buzzing from Jessica's song, their chatter a distant hum beneath the frantic drumming in her ears. The velvet curtain felt heavy and cool against her gloved fingertips as she pushed through it. The backstage corridor was dimmer, quieter, smelling faintly of dust, stage makeup, and something uniquely Jessica—orchids and warm ink. Her pulse throbbed in her throat as she approached the door marked with a simple, elegant star. Snow paused, her hand hovering inches from the polished wood. Behind her, the muffled sounds of the club faded entirely. All she heard was the frantic cartoon thump-thump-thump of her own oversized heart stretching visibly beneath her chest, straining against the black satin corset. Taking a deep breath that did little to calm the frantic cartoon hearts swirling above her like a crimson halo, Snow raised her gloved hand and knocked—three sharp, clear raps that echoed down the silent hallway.
The door swung inward almost immediately. Jessica Rabbit stood framed in the soft light spilling from her dressing room, her statuesque form draped in a luxurious silk robe of deep violet that clung to her formidable curves. Her luxurious red hair was swept loosely over one shoulder, revealing the elegant line of her neck. Recognition flickered instantly in her heavy-lidded green eyes, followed by a genuine warmth that softened her features. A slow, captivating smile curved her impossibly full red lips. "Snow?" Jessica's voice was a low, resonant murmur, devoid of its stage vibrato but still impossibly rich. Her gaze traveled over Snow's ink-black bunny ears, the tight corset, the trembling hands clutching empty air. "Darling, what a surprise." The scent of orchids intensified, wrapping around Snow like a warm embrace. Jessica leaned casually against the doorframe, the silk robe shifting to reveal a glimpse of the crimson sequined dress beneath. "Did you get lost backstage?" she asked, her tone gentle, teasing. "Or did you come looking for something… specific?" Her green eyes held Snow's, heavy with an unspoken question.
Snow's jaw dropped open with a cartoonish *thud*, hitting the plush hallway runner. Her wide blue eyes bulged out of her head on coiled springs, hovering a foot in front of her face for a suspended second before snapping back into their sockets with twin *boing* sounds. Her cheeks flared a brilliant crimson visible even beneath her ink-white skin. "M-Miss Rabbit! Jessica! I—" Her voice squeaked, high-pitched and frantic. She swallowed hard, forcing her gaze away from the hypnotic curve of Jessica's smile and the deep plunge of the robe. "I saw… your song… it was…" Words failed her. The cartoon hearts above her head pulsed violently, shifting from pink to deep scarlet. Her small fists clenched at her sides. "Could I… I mean… would it be… terribly rude…" She stammered, her gaze darting nervously from Jessica's face to the inviting warmth of the dressing room behind her, illuminated by soft vanity lights reflecting off jars of glitter and pots of ink. "Would you… would you like me to… come in?" The question tumbled out in a rush, barely audible above the frantic cartoon heartbeat thumping beneath her corset. She braced herself, half-expecting polite refusal or amused dismissal.
Jessica's smile deepened, a knowing curve that crinkled the corners of her mesmerizing eyes. She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she straightened from the doorframe, the movement fluid and deliberate. She reached out, her long fingers encased in elegant purple opera gloves brushing Snow's trembling forearm. The touch was light, almost fleeting, yet it sent a jolt of pure, electric warmth straight through the thin satin of Snow's glove and up her arm. Jessica's gaze remained locked on Snow's flushed face, taking in the frantic hearts, the wide, hopeful eyes. "Snow White," Jessica murmured, her voice dropping to a velvet whisper that seemed to resonate deep in Snow's chest. Her gloved hand slid gently down Snow's arm to capture her small, trembling hand. The grip was firm, warm, anchoring. "I was hoping you'd ask." With a subtle pull that belied her effortless strength, Jessica drew Snow forward across the threshold. "Come in, darling," she breathed, the scent of orchids enveloping Snow completely as the dressing room door clicked softly shut behind them. "Come right in."
Snow stumbled slightly on her heels, her breath catching as Jessica's warmth enveloped her. The dressing room was intimate, bathed in the soft glow of vanity bulbs reflecting off jars of sequins and pots of ink. Jessica guided her gently towards a plush velvet chaise lounge. "Sit," Jessica urged softly, releasing Snow's hand only to gesture towards the seat. Snow sank down, the velvet cool beneath her thighs. Jessica remained standing before her, tall and statuesque in her violet robe, the soft light catching the shimmer of her lavender eye shadow. Snow's heart hammered against her ribs, the cartoon heartbeat beneath her corset stretching visibly against the black satin. She opened her mouth, but all that emerged was a tiny, choked squeak. Her gloved hands twisted nervously in her lap. Jessica tilted her head, her expression impossibly patient, impossibly kind. "Snow?" she prompted gently, her green eyes soft. "You look like you have something terribly important to say." The gentle encouragement, the focused attention, was the final push Snow needed. The dam broke.
The words tumbled out in a frantic, breathless rush, propelled by months of pent-up adoration and the lingering courage borrowed from Misty's boldness. "Miss Rabbit—Jessica—I can't… I can't keep pretending!" Snow blurted, her voice trembling but gaining volume. She looked up, meeting Jessica's gaze directly, her blue eyes wide and earnest. "Ever since I first saw you sing 'Why Don't You Do Right?' at the Inkwell Lounge… your voice… it wasn't just beautiful, it felt like… like warm honey poured straight into my ears!" She gestured wildly, cartoon hearts pulsing frantically above her ink-black hair. "And then… then I saw you *move*. The way you glide, Jessica! It's like… like watching liquid moonlight flow across the stage! And your confidence… it's magnetic!" Snow's cheeks flared crimson, but she didn't stop, fueled by a desperate, joyful honesty. "And… and your *hair*! That red… it's not just ink, it's like… like spun fire under the spotlights! So thick and luxurious, I just want to… to bury my face in it!" She gasped, realizing what she'd said, but the momentum carried her forward, her gaze sweeping over Jessica's form as if seeing her anew. "And your eyes! Those heavy-lidded green eyes… they're like deep, mysterious forests I could get lost in forever! And the way your eyelashes cast shadows… it's mesmerizing!" Snow leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to an awed whisper. "And your *lips*… Jessica, your lips… they're the most perfect shade of red, like… like the ripest, juiciest apple in the whole orchard! Full and soft…" She trailed off, momentarily breathless, her own lips tingling with the imagined softness.
Snow's gaze drifted lower, drawn inexorably downwards. Her small hands fluttered nervously towards Jessica's silhouette, then clasped tightly together again. "And… and your *neck*," she breathed, her voice hushed with reverence. "So long and elegant… like a swan's!" Her eyes traced the graceful line down to Jessica's shoulders, exposed by the robe. "Your shoulders… they're so strong and smooth…" The blush deepened, spreading down Snow's neck. "And… and then…" Her voice hitched slightly, her gaze lingering on the deep V of Jessica's robe where the crimson sequins beneath hinted at the magnificent swell beneath. She swallowed hard, the cartoon heartbeat beneath her corset visibly stretching the fabric outward. "Your… your *bosom*, Jessica," Snow whispered, the word feeling both forbidden and thrilling. Her eyes were wide, filled with pure, innocent awe. "It's… it's like… like two perfect, magnificent mountains… sculpted by angels! So full and… and *generous*!" Her gloved hand lifted unconsciously, hovering in the air towards Jessica's chest before she snatched it back, clasping it tightly with the other. "The way your dress… or robe… holds them… it's breathtaking! And your waist…!" Snow's gaze darted down Jessica's impossibly narrow midsection. "It's so tiny! Like… like someone took a ribbon and cinched it tight! How do you even breathe?!" She looked back up, meeting Jessica's eyes again, her own filled with bewildered admiration. "And then… your hips!" Snow gestured vaguely downwards, her cheeks flaming. "They flare out so perfectly… like… like the curves of a priceless vase! So wide and… and *womanly*!" Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "And your… your *derrière*…" Snow leaned forward, eyes wide with earnest appreciation. "It's… it's like two perfect, ripe peaches! Round and high and… and *magnificent*! And your legs!" Snow's gaze swept down Jessica's long, shapely legs visible through the robe's slit. "They go on forever! So long and strong and elegant… like… like twin pillars holding up a goddess!" Snow finally paused, utterly breathless, her small chest heaving beneath the corset. She looked up at Jessica, her expression a mixture of terrified vulnerability and radiant, hopeful adoration. "You're… you're just… *everything*, Jessica Rabbit. From your head," she gestured vaguely upwards, "all the way down to your toes! Every single inch… drawn *perfectly*." She fell silent, her wide blue eyes fixed on Jessica's face, waiting, trembling. The frantic cartoon hearts above her head pulsed with crimson light, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the soft glow of the dressing room lights.
Jessica listened, utterly still, her expression unreadable save for the deepening warmth in her heavy-lidded eyes. As Snow's torrent of admiration finally ceased, leaving only the frantic *thump-thump-thump* of Snow's cartoon heart echoing softly in the room, a slow, genuine smile spread across Jessica's impossibly full lips. It wasn't her stage smile; it was softer, warmer, tinged with a profound tenderness that crinkled the corners of her eyes. "Oh, Snow," she murmured, her voice a low, resonant caress that seemed to vibrate directly in Snow's chest. "Darling girl." Without breaking eye contact, Jessica reached up with deliberate grace. Her purple-gloved fingers found the silken sash of her violet robe. With a single, fluid tug, the knot loosened. The robe slipped from her shoulders, pooling silently at her feet like liquid twilight, revealing the full, breathtaking glory of the crimson sequined dress beneath – the deep sweetheart neckline barely containing the magnificent swell of her G-cup breasts, the fabric clinging lovingly to her impossibly narrow waist and flaring hips. The soft light caught every sequin, making her glow like a captured sunset. Snow's jaw dropped open with a soft *thud*, her eyes bulging out on springs once more, hovering inches from her face, reflecting the dazzling vision before they snapped back with twin *boings*.
Jessica stepped forward, closing the small distance between them. Her movements were deliberate, unhurried, radiating a quiet confidence that held Snow utterly spellbound. She didn't speak immediately. Instead, she placed her hands gently on Snow's shoulders. Snow gasped, feeling the warmth of Jessica's palms even through her gloves and the satin corset. With gentle pressure, Jessica guided Snow back slightly against the plush velvet of the chaise lounge. Then, with breathtaking elegance, Jessica lowered herself smoothly onto Snow's lap. Snow instinctively stiffened, her small hands fluttering nervously in the air before settling tentatively on Jessica's silk-clad hips, feeling the incredible warmth and the powerful curve of bone beneath the fabric. Jessica settled her weight fully, her lush derrière pressing firmly against Snow's slender thighs. The sheer, overwhelming proximity, the heat radiating from Jessica's body, the soft scent of orchids and warm ink enveloping her, made Snow's cartoon heart stretch visibly outward beneath her corset, pulsing crimson light onto Jessica's crimson dress. Jessica leaned in close, her face mere inches from Snow's, her green eyes holding Snow's wide blue gaze captive. "Snow," Jessica breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. "All those beautiful words…" Her gloved hand lifted, gently brushing a stray lock of ink-black hair from Snow's flushed cheek. The touch sent electric sparks dancing across Snow's skin. "They were so sweet, darling. Because I've been hoping," Jessica confessed, her gaze unwavering, intense, "hoping desperately, that you felt something for me. Because I have felt it too. For longer than you know." Her thumb traced the trembling line of Snow's jaw. "This pull… this warmth whenever you're near…"
The confession hung in the air, shimmering and potent. Before Snow could even process the words, before her frantically spinning thoughts could form a coherent reply, Jessica leaned in the remaining fraction of an inch. Her impossibly soft, full lips met Snow's rosy red ones in a kiss that was achingly gentle yet undeniably passionate. It wasn't theatrical; it was profoundly tender. Snow froze for a heartbeat, overwhelmed by the sheer softness, the warmth, the faint taste of stage lipstick mingled with Jessica's unique essence. Then, a low whimper escaped her, muffled against Jessica's mouth as her body melted into the kiss. Her small hands tightened reflexively on Jessica's hips, pulling her closer. Jessica responded instantly, deepening the kiss, her lips moving slowly, deliberately against Snow's, coaxing a hesitant response. Snow's eyes fluttered shut, cartoon hearts blooming violently above her head, pulsing scarlet as pure, dizzying bliss washed over her. She tentatively kissed back, mimicking Jessica's slow rhythm, her lips tingling with sensation. The world narrowed to the soft pressure, the shared warmth, the intoxicating scent, the feel of Jessica's solid, glorious weight on her lap.
After several suspended seconds filled only with the soft sounds of their breathing and the frantic cartoon heartbeat thrumming beneath Snow's corset, Jessica pulled back just slightly, breaking the kiss. Her green eyes were dark, luminous pools reflecting Snow's dazed expression. A soft, breathless sigh escaped Jessica's lips. Snow, emboldened by the kiss, by the confession, by the overwhelming sensations flooding her small frame, acted on pure instinct. Her gloved hands, which had been resting on Jessica's hips, slid upwards with trembling urgency. They traced the impossibly narrow curve of Jessica's waist, sending shivers through the taller woman. Then, Snow's fingers found the top edge of Jessica's crimson sequined dress, where the sweetheart neckline strained against the magnificent swell of her bosom. With a gasp that was half-terror, half-desperation, Snow hooked her thumbs under the stiff fabric. She tugged down, gently but firmly. The sequined fabric yielded instantly. Jessica's magnificent G-cup breasts sprang free with a soft, heavy bounce, unrestrained, impossibly full and pale beneath the dressing room lights. Snow's breath caught audibly. Her wide blue eyes locked onto the sight – the soft, generous curves, the dusky pink peaks hardening almost instantly in the cool air. A choked sound escaped her, a mixture of pure awe and desperate longing. Jessica let out a soft, shuddering gasp of her own, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as the cool air washed over her exposed skin, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She didn't pull away. She leaned forward slightly, pressing her magnificent, freed breasts gently against Snow's smaller frame, the soft, warm weight a breathtaking confirmation. Snow's hands hovered, trembling, inches from the soft flesh, utterly transfixed.
"Touch," Jessica breathed, her voice thick and low, barely a whisper. It wasn't a command; it was an invitation, laden with warmth and a hint of breathless anticipation. "Snow... please." Her eyes opened, holding Snow's gaze with an intensity that stripped away any lingering hesitation. "I need to feel your mouth." Snow whimpered, a sound of pure need vibrating in her throat. Her gloved hands finally moved, trembling fingers brushing the impossibly soft, yielding skin of Jessica's right breast. The sensation sent sparks arcing through her own body. She leaned forward, guided by instinct and Jessica's soft encouragement. Her rosy red lips parted, closing hesitantly over the hardened peak. The taste was soft ink and warmth, uniquely Jessica. She suckled tentatively at first, then with growing confidence as Jessica arched her back with a low moan, pressing more firmly against Snow's mouth. Snow's small hands instinctively cupped the heavy weight, supporting it, feeling the incredible softness fill her palms as she drew deeper. Jessica's fingers tangled gently in Snow's ink-black hair, not guiding, just holding, her breathing growing ragged. Snow suckled greedily now, lost in the sensation, the soft sounds filling the quiet room – the gentle pull of her lips, Jessica's low sighs, the frantic *thump-thump-thump* of Snow's own cartoon heart stretching her corset outward like a beacon.
Jessica leaned back further against Snow's supportive hands, her head tilting back, exposing the long, elegant line of her throat. A soft, breathy sigh escaped her lips. "Yes," she murmured, the word thick with pleasure. "Just like that, darling." Her fingers tightened slightly in Snow's hair, not pulling, just anchoring. Snow felt Jessica shift subtly on her lap. "Now the other," Jessica whispered, her voice husky. Snow pulled back with a soft, wet sound, her lips leaving Jessica's right nipple glistening. She looked up, her blue eyes wide and darkened with desire, her own lips damp and flushed. Jessica gently guided Snow's head towards her left breast. Snow needed no further prompting. She leaned in again, her mouth finding the waiting peak with unerring instinct. She suckled deeply, hungrily, her small hands kneading the soft flesh supporting the breast she wasn't tasting. Jessica gasped, a sharper sound this time, her hips shifting subtly against Snow's lap. "Oh!" she breathed, her voice catching. "Snow... your hands..." Snow continued her ministrations, alternating gentle suckling with soft nuzzling against the warm, fragrant skin, utterly absorbed. Jessica's moans grew deeper, more rhythmic, her fingers flexing in Snow's hair. The scent of orchids mingled with something warmer, muskier, filling Snow's senses.
While Snow was utterly focused on Jessica's left breast, her small hands, seemingly acting on their own lust-fueled accord, slid down from Jessica's waist. They traced the dramatic flare of Jessica's hips through the crimson sequined dress. Finding the hem where the fabric ended high on Jessica's thigh, Snow's gloved fingers slipped beneath it. With a trembling urgency fueled by Jessica's moans and the overwhelming sensations coursing through her, Snow gripped the sequined fabric firmly. She pulled downwards, inching the dress lower over Jessica's curvy hips. The fabric slid surprisingly easily over the smooth silk of Jessica's stockings. Jessica gasped sharply, her body tensing slightly as the cool air hit newly exposed skin. "Snow—!" she breathed, but it wasn't a protest; it was a gasp of startled pleasure mixed with anticipation. Snow kept pulling, her movements jerky but determined, fueled by a desperate need to see, to feel more. The sequined dress gathered around Jessica's upper thighs, then slid past her hips entirely, pooling loosely around her knees where she knelt straddling Snow's lap. The revelation was breathtaking: Jessica Rabbit wore no panties. The smooth silk of her stockings ended mid-thigh, secured by delicate garters attached to a thin, almost invisible belt at her waist. Below, the soft, pale ink curve of her full derrière was completely bare, exposed to the cool air and Snow's wide-eyed gaze. The sight was dizzying – the perfect, ripe swell of her cheeks, the intimate shadowed cleft between them. Snow froze, her mouth still latched onto Jessica's breast, her eyes impossibly wide, staring at the unveiled glory inches from her lap. Jessica shuddered, a full-body tremor running through her. Her green eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with desire, met Snow's stunned gaze. A slow, knowing, impossibly sensual smile curved Jessica's lips. "Surprise," she murmured, her voice thick and low, vibrating against Snow's ears .
"Don't take exception to that," Jessica breathed, her voice a husky caress as she gently disentangled Snow's mouth from her breast with a soft, wet sound. She shifted her weight, her bare derrière pressing firmly against Snow's thighs as she leaned back slightly, putting a small, deliberate distance between their upper bodies. Her gaze, intense and unwavering, locked onto Snow's flushed face. "Seeing you unravel me… inch by inch… it's the most exquisite torture." Her gloved hands rose, not to cover herself, but to frame Snow's cheeks, thumbs brushing the trembling corners of Snow's mouth. "But turnabout, my darling princess," Jessica whispered, her smile deepening, "is only fair play." Snow's breath hitched, her cartoon heart stretching her corset outward so violently it creaked. Jessica's hands slid down, tracing the delicate line of Snow's jaw, her throat, coming to rest lightly on the taut satin of Snow's black corset bodysuit. Her touch was deliberate, possessive. "This," Jessica murmured, her fingers tracing the stiff boning beneath the satin, "has been driving me quietly mad all evening."
Her thumbs found the top edge of the corset, right where it met the swell of Snow's small B-cups. "The way it hugs your little curves…" Jessica hooked her thumbs firmly under the stiff fabric. With a smooth, powerful motion, she peeled the corset downwards. Snow gasped, a sharp intake of breath, as the cool air rushed over her suddenly freed breasts. The tight satin slid easily over her soft, pale ink skin, catching momentarily on her peaked nipples before releasing them. Jessica tugged relentlessly, peeling the corset past Snow's narrow waist, over the gentle swell of her hips, down her thighs.
The black body suit peeled away like shedding skin, pooling around Snow's ankles trapped within her black heels. Snow sat trembling, clad only in her white ink gloves, white ink stockings held up by garters, and her stark white ink cartoon panties – a simple, modest cotton brief adorned with a tiny pink bow at the front. Her skin prickled everywhere, exposed and vulnerable under Jessica's heated gaze. Jessica's eyes swept over her, a slow, appreciative inventory that made Snow feel simultaneously shy and utterly desired. "Perfect," Jessica breathed, her voice thick with reverence. "Every inch drawn perfectly… just as you said." Her gloved hands slid up Snow's bare thighs, tracing the trembling muscles beneath the soft ink skin. They reached the thin elastic waistband of Snow's white panties. Jessica paused, her gaze lifting to meet Snow's wide, terrified, yet hopeful blue eyes. "May I?" The question hung in the air, charged and intimate. Snow couldn't speak; she could only manage a frantic, jerky nod, her cartoon hearts pulsing crimson light onto Jessica's bare shoulders.
Jessica didn't hesitate. Her fingers, strong and sure beneath the purple silk gloves, hooked into the waistband of Snow's white cotton panties. With deliberate slowness, savoring the moment, she peeled them downwards. The soft cotton slid over Snow's hips, catching momentarily on the curve of her ink-black bush before yielding, revealing the soft, pale ink skin beneath. Jessica pulled them down Snow's trembling thighs, past her knees, finally slipping them over her ankles and black heels, adding them to the discarded pile. Snow was now utterly bare beneath Jessica's gaze except for her gloves, stockings, and heels. A soft whimper escaped her lips, her body trembling violently, her eyes wide pools of blue vulnerability and desperate arousal.
Jessica's gaze was a physical caress, tracing the delicate lines of Snow's small frame – the gentle swell of her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach, the dark triangle of ink curls at the juncture of her thighs, the soft curve of her inner thighs leading down. Jessica leaned forward again, her magnificent breasts pressing softly against Snow's smaller ones. She captured Snow's lips in another deep, possessive kiss, silencing her whimpers. As she kissed her, Jessica slid smoothly off Snow's lap. Her descent was fluid, graceful, like ink flowing down parchment. She knelt on the plush carpet between Snow's spread thighs, her hands resting gently on Snow's knees. She broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look up at Snow, her green eyes dark pools reflecting the frantic cartoon hearts pulsing above Snow's head. "You are breathtaking," Jessica murmured, her voice thick with awe and desire. Her gloved hands slid slowly, slowly up Snow's inner thighs, parting them gently but firmly. The soft silk of her gloves felt impossibly decadent against Snow's hypersensitive skin. Jessica leaned in closer, her warm breath ghosting over Snow's exposed ink curls, making Snow gasp and arch her back instinctively. "Every inch," Jessica breathed, her gaze locked on Snow's wide, terrified-hopeful eyes. "Perfectly drawn." Then, without breaking eye contact, Jessica lowered her head.
The first touch of Jessica's lips against Snow's ink-black curls was feather-light, almost hesitant. Snow cried out, a sharp, startled sound, her entire body jerking. "Shhh, darling," Jessica whispered against her skin, her breath impossibly warm. "Just feel." She kissed her again, firmer this time, pressing her lips softly against the soft mound. Snow whimpered, her hands fluttering uselessly before gripping the arms of the chair. Jessica's gloved thumbs gently parted Snow's folds, revealing the flushed, slick pink ink skin beneath. Snow gasped again, a shudder wracking her frame. "So pretty," Jessica murmured, her voice vibrating against Snow's skin. "So wet for me already." Then Jessica leaned in again, and this time her tongue touched Snow – not tentatively, but with deliberate, languid purpose. A slow, flat stroke upwards, from the very base to the swollen peak of her clit. It was a sensation unlike anything Snow had ever imagined – hot, wet, unbearably intimate, and focused with laser precision on the most sensitive point of her entire body.
"Oh!" Snow gasped, her eyes flying wide, cartoon stars briefly flickering amidst the hearts above her head. Her hips bucked involuntarily upwards, seeking more of that incredible pressure.
Jessica chuckled softly, a low, throaty sound. "Easy, sweetheart," she breathed, her breath hot against Snow's slickness. "There's no rush." She repeated the motion, another long, slow lick, savoring the taste, the texture, the tiny tremors it sent through Snow's body. "You taste like sunshine," Jessica murmured, her voice thick and muffled against Snow's skin. "Sweet and bright." She punctuated her words with another deliberate lick, then focused her attention solely on Snow's clit, swirling her tongue around it in slow, tight circles.
Snow cried out again, her back arching off the chair, her fingers digging into the velvet upholstery. The slow, relentless pressure was building a fire deep within her belly, spreading outwards in waves of pure, molten sensation. "Jessica!" she gasped, her voice trembling. "It's… it's…" Words failed her. The sensations were overwhelming – the heat, the wetness, the exquisite friction, the soft sounds Jessica was making against her skin.
Jessica increased the pressure slightly, her tongue flicking rapidly against the swollen bud now. "That's it," she encouraged, her voice vibrating deliciously. "Let me taste you, Snow. Let me feel you come undone." Her hands slid down to grip Snow's hips firmly, holding her steady as her tongue danced and teased, relentless and knowing. Snow could only gasp and writhe, lost in the rising tide of pure, impossible pleasure Jessica Rabbit was drawing from her very core.
"Oh! Jessica—it's too much—I can't—!" Snow's cry fractured into a high-pitched whine as her back arched violently off the velvet chair. Her eyes squeezed shut, cartoon hearts exploding into shimmering pink starbursts above her head. A deep, rhythmic pulsing began low in her belly, tightening unbearably before releasing in a torrent of pure sensation. "YES!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the dressing room walls. Jessica moaned deeply against her, her lips sealing firmly around Snow's clit just as the climax hit its peak. Snow felt the hot rush of her own release—clear, shimmering ink, thick and slick—flood Jessica's mouth. Jessica swallowed hungrily, her throat working, the vibrations sending fresh, blinding shocks through Snow's trembling body as the waves of ecstasy crashed over her again and again.
"Mmmph… divine," Jessica murmured thickly, pulling back slowly, a thin strand of clear ink connecting her swollen lips to Snow's glistening folds. She licked her lips deliberately, her green eyes dark and satisfied. "Like spun sugar and lightning." With effortless grace, Jessica stood, her sequined dress already pooled around her knees. She stepped out of the crimson fabric and kicked off her pink stilettos, standing tall and magnificent in nothing but her sheer stockings, garter belt, and purple opera gloves. Leaning down, she offered Snow her gloved hands. "Come, darling. The floor is charming, but the bed awaits."
Snow's limbs felt like warm ink, loose and trembling. She grasped Jessica's hands, letting the taller woman pull her upright. Her own legs wobbled precariously. Carefully, she stepped out of her black heels and the discarded corset tangled around her ankles. Guided by Jessica's steadying hand on her bare waist, they walked the few steps to Jessica's dressing room bed. "Lie back," Jessica commanded softly, her voice a velvet promise. Snow sank onto the soft cushions, her ink-black hair fanning out around her flushed face.
Jessica climbed over her, settling her weight onto Snow's hips, her bare thighs framing Snow's slender waist. Her gaze locked onto Snow's wide blue eyes, now shimmering with renewed lust, their pupils morphing into perfect crimson hearts. "Wrap those lovely legs around me," Jessica breathed. Snow obeyed instantly, her shapely calves hooking firmly behind Jessica's back, locking her ankles just above the swell of Jessica's bare bottom. Jessica smiled, slow and predatory. "Perfect." She shifted her hips forward, aligning herself. Snow gasped as she felt the hot, slick pressure of Jessica's bare folds glide firmly against her own still-sensitive mound. Jessica began a slow, deliberate grind, the friction exquisite and intimate. "Feel that?" Jessica murmured, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Every inch of you… against every inch of me." Snow could only whimper, her head falling back against the cushions, her hips lifting instinctively to meet Jessica's rhythm. The glide was wet, hot, and impossibly smooth, Jessica's swollen clit dragging against Snow's own with each deliberate, rocking motion.
"Oh God," Snow choked out, her fingers digging into Jessica's smooth shoulders. "It's… it's like…"
"Like we're melting together?" Jessica supplied, leaning down to capture Snow's lips in a deep, claiming kiss. Her tongue slid against Snow's, tasting herself mingled with Snow's sweetness. She broke the kiss, her breath hot against Snow's cheek. "Just wait, princess. Wait until I really start moving." Jessica's hips began a faster, more insistent rhythm. The slick, heated friction intensified, the soft sounds of their joining filling the small room. Snow cried out, her body arching upwards, seeking more, always more, as Jessica's relentless movement stoked the fire low in her belly anew.
Jessica's G-cup breasts bounced freely with the increasing speed of her grinding, a mesmerizing, heavy sway above Snow's flushed face. "Look at me," Jessica commanded, her voice thick and strained. Snow's wide blue eyes snapped upwards, locking onto Jessica's intense gaze. "Watch what you do to me," Jessica gasped, her own hips pistoning faster, the wet slide becoming almost frantic.
Snow's eyes began to spin wildly behind her tears of overwhelmed pleasure, shifting through crimson hearts, spiraling galaxies, and finally landing on frantic, glittering gold bars – cartoon symbols of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. "Oh god, Jessica! I'm—!" Snow's warning cry dissolved into a sharp, wordless scream as her climax slammed into her. Her body bucked violently beneath Jessica's weight, her eyes solidifying into gleaming gold ingots. A gush of shimmering, clear ink erupted from her, splashing hotly against Jessica's grinding mound and slickening the already soaked curls between Jessica's thighs.
Jessica gasped, a ragged sound torn from her throat as she felt Snow's release coat her. "Yessss!" she hissed, her grinding becoming almost violent, desperate. She rode Snow's convulsing body hard, chasing her own peak, her magnificent breasts bouncing wildly with each powerful thrust. Snow whimpered beneath her, hypersensitive and trembling, yet clinging tight, her legs locked around Jessica's waist as Jessica drove them both relentlessly towards the edge again. Jessica's eyes squeezed shut, her head thrown back, a deep groan rumbling through her chest. "Snow—darling!" The word ripped from her, sharp and final. Her entire body stiffened, then shuddered violently. A powerful jet of her own release sprayed hotly onto Snow's stomach and thighs, mingling with Snow's ink as Jessica's grinding slowed to deep, convulsive pulses against Snow's sensitive flesh.
They collapsed together, a tangled heap of ink-slicked limbs and heaving breaths. Jessica rolled slightly to her side, pulling Snow close against her, their bodies pressed flush from breast to thigh. Snow nestled her head into the curve of Jessica's neck, breathing in the scent of sweat, expensive perfume, and their shared ecstasy. Silence settled, thick and warm, punctuated only by their slowing heartbeats and the faint *whirr* of the air conditioning vent.
Jessica traced lazy patterns on Snow's bare shoulder with a gloved fingertip. "You," Jessica breathed, her voice husky and utterly spent, "are a revelation."
Snow lifted her head, her blue eyes wide and impossibly soft. "Me?" she whispered, disbelief coloring her tone. "But you're… *you*. You're Jessica Rabbit."
Jessica chuckled, a low, warm rumble against Snow's skin. "And you," she countered, her gaze locking onto Snow's, fierce and tender, "are Snow White. Kindness incarnate. Pure sunshine."
Snow's cheeks flushed pink, cartoon hearts flickering weakly above her tousled hair. "I was so afraid," Snow confessed softly, "of dropping trays, of freezing up… of you seeing how… clumsy I felt inside."
Jessica's gloved hand cupped Snow's cheek. "Clumsy?" she murmured. "Darling, you moved like poetry. Every gasp, every tremor… perfect."
Snow's breath caught. "I… I think I've loved you," she whispered, the words trembling out, "since the first time I heard you sing."
Jessica's green eyes softened impossibly. "And I," she confessed, her voice thick with emotion, "have adored your impossible sweetness since the moment I saw you nervously handing out champagne flutes, your little cartoon hearts giving you away." Snow's lips parted in a silent 'oh'. Jessica leaned in slowly, her gaze intense. "I love you, Snow White," she breathed, the words resonating with profound sincerity.
Snow's eyes shimmered, overflowing with tears of pure joy. "I love you too, Jessica Rabbit," she whispered back, her voice thick. Then Jessica closed the distance, capturing Snow's lips in a kiss that was nothing like the frantic passion before. It was deep, slow, tender—a claiming, a promise, a profound sealing of the words just spoken. They kissed like that for a long, timeless moment, lost in the quiet aftermath, the taste of each other mingling with the salty tang of Snow's tears and the lingering sweetness of their shared release.