Daughters who took after their mother perfectly.
The mercenaries had pulled an all-nighter to finish their job. They dragged their heavy, exhausted bodies to the inn.
The mercenaries entered the Cradle of Abundance Inn. Their eyes landed on a pretty woman.
She was sitting at the counter, so she had to be the innkeeper.
No one hands off their money matters to someone else. The one manning the counter was the owner.
The mercenaries exchanged glances. They communicated with quick nods.
Tired and beat as they were, none of them wanted to just crash.
'Gotta clear the pipes.'
They'd held back during the job. All that pent-up lust was writhing now.
Like a snake waking from hibernation, their dicks were straining to rear up.
They approached with sex on their minds. Inns like this spread for coin, after all.
They even subtly probed if multiples were on the table.
But the vibe was off. The Cradle of Abundance's owner didn't seem to offer those services.
She clearly understood, but just frowned unpleasantly.
'Newbie?'
Not hip to inn culture?
Or too green to get it?
'Nah.'
There was a girl wiping down tables. She was the spitting image of the woman at the counter.
Anyone could see they were mother and daughter.
'Married? Husband around?'
'If there was, she wouldn't be at the counter.'
'Widow who lost her man.'
The mercenaries were quick on the uptake. They pieced together Denis's backstory in seconds.
'Even better.'
A married woman had her own flavor, a widow hers. Both were delicacies.
The mercenaries' gazes raked over Denis's chest. Her skin crawled at the sticky leer, and she stuck out her tongue in disgust.
'She knows how to jack up the price.'
Pretending to hate it, playing dumb, acting like extras weren't on the menu.
The mercenaries deluded themselves into thinking they were above her.
This wasn't their first rodeo. Dealing with easy innkeeper ass was routine.
'Compared to risking our necks for pay... this is easy cooking.'
That prickly look would melt once they flashed some coin. She'd spread wide and lie back under them soon enough.
The mercenaries licked their dry lips, thinking that.
"Dyke?"
"Yeah?"
That's when the innkeeper called out to a boy. He shot back curtly from his sullen face.
He was picking his nose, like this whole scene annoyed him.
"Chase these bastards out, will ya? Cripple their dicks just enough so they can't use 'em."
The mercenaries' faces twisted.
'This bitch lost her mind?'
The boy called Dyke looked their way. Blank-faced, like he wasn't thinking much, now digging at his ear.
'Ignore us all you want, but there's a limit.'
Fucking the innkeeper was secondary. This was about pride.
They had to defend the dignity of their silver-rank status.
Dyke scanned the mercenaries with a sour expression. Taking them in one by one.
Then he sighed and spoke.
"Why do these kinds keep showing up? Cockroaches?"
"...Cockroaches? You calling us cockroaches?"
The mercenary world was man's world. Lose the vibe, and you're done.
They couldn't back down from Dyke's taunt. That'd be admitting they were scared.
Their heads filled with visions of smashing Dyke.
'No way we lose to a punk like that!'
They hadn't lucked into silver rank. They'd clawed their way up through blood and battles.
'Kill the little shit, then wreck that bitch's ass inside out.'
The idea of losing to a smaller, scrawnier kid never crossed their minds. Worrying about it was already defeat.
The size gap was that huge.
"Know who we are?"
"We're silver-rank mercs, fucker!"
"Who the hell you think you are, some countryside inn punk?!"
Of course, the mercenaries had no chance of winning.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
NTR Tsukuru game's protagonist, Dyke. A character made to lose his heroines.
Not handsome or tall.
'Alpha male protag in NTR genre? Weird.'
If you scored his looks, it'd be 6 to 7 outta 10. Some tastes might give him 10.
A pitiful, hapless boy. Spun positive, he tugs heartstrings?
His scrawny build amps up the beta loser vibe.
Short version—he looks like total chump bait. Or more precisely, weak as shit.
'Bump shoulders, and you'd never lose.'
Backing off from a guy like Dyke could feel humiliating.
One-on-one, sure.
But if he's got a girl nearby?
Ten out of ten would skip apologies and swing first.
'I get you guys.'
Mercs throwing fits in inns? Totally fair. My own dick's weeping in sympathy.
Dyke's first impression screamed chump city.
"So, what now?"
Sorry I'm not chump material.
Sorry I don't match the looks.
I apologized nonstop to the mercs while swinging fists. My straight arm nailed a hairy merc's jaw dead-on.
"Ow, that tickles."
Mid-jaw realignment surgery, his fur scraped my knuckles like crazy. Gave me the chills.
"Gurk..."
The hairy merc's eyes went dull. KO'd from the hit.
His bulk crashed down.
On the freshly scrubbed, gleaming floor, splattering meaty fluids and grime. Splat.
"Fuck..."
Shoulda taken it outside. Fights always spill indoors.
The other mercs ignored my issues, fretting over their buddy.
They glared at the lump, murmuring in shock.
"H-how?"
"Gunta goes down in one hit? To that weakling's punch?!"
The lump merc's name was Gunta.
"Sorry to Gunta's future kids."
I apologized to his unborn heirs while slamming a full-force kick to his groin.
WHAM!
"GYAAAAAAAAH!"
A gruesome sound, then Gunta's scream. Too shrill for a big guy's voice.
"Just broke 'em, and he's already girling out? Kids these days grow fast."
"...You crazy fuck!"
The mercs freaked, yelling.
"Gunta's crotch! It's... blood red..."
Gunta's dick had burst. No way it was fine.
Blood poured from his groin.
"Ah."
Shoulda dragged him out for neutering. Why get hyped inside again.
"Let's take it outside now."
"..."
The mercs rolled their eyes, glancing at each other.
What to do?
I could hear their brains grinding from here. Pathetic.
"Where'd all that swagger go?"
Denis sneered. After all their fuck-talk, their girly reactions were rich.
"You dog bitch...!"
"Gunta, Gunta...!"
They kept mumbling their passed-out pal's name, hesitating. Shit or get off the pot.
Pick one.
"Not coming? Fine, I'm going."
Waiting made no sense.
THUD, THUD!
"Guh!"
"Ugh! Fuck...!"
I charged, gifting each a gut punch. They clutched bellies like womb shots, doubling over.
"...Not knocked up yet. Belly shots too soon?"
The merc neutering happened outside. Saved on cleanup.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Reliable as ever."
Right after kicking out the mercs, Denis brought a cup of "tea." Ice water, really.
"Not the first time... no need to thank me."
"The more you handle it, the better. No dealing with trash."
I chugged the ice water Denis handed me.
"Makes life way easier, thanks to you, Dyke."
"Yeah? Glad to hear."
"Not lying about stuff like this. Especially not empty words."
I glanced at Denis, and she beamed back, pretty as ever.
Common inn, common owner—but one with official art.
'No wonder the hero party uses this as base.'
Blood rushed south.
Couldn't help eyeing Denis's chest. Ripe woman's tits filled my view.
Size alone overwhelmed.
"Tonight?"
Caught red-handed. Always was.
Denis spotted my gaze like a ghost. No hiding looks from her.
They called the NTR Tsukuru protag Dyke a beta loser...
But I wasn't exactly Casanova. Still green against Denis.
'Wait, aren't Dyke and me both kinda mid?'
Shook my head hard. Nearly tanked my ego.
'Nah, I'm better.'
I shut it down firm. Unlike Dyke hitting trash endings without player help, I'd ditched the sluts and fulfilled hero duty.
'How's that the same? Mid my ass.'
Totally different. From a scrub like Dyke.
"Don't wanna tonight?"
"...Huh? No?"
"Then why shake your head like that."
"Oh, not that... something else."
I denied quick. Signaled I did want to fuck Denis, stat.
She chuckled.
"...Not right now, huh?"
"Can't close the inn. Guests could show anytime."
"...Hng."
"Hang in there a bit. Okay?"
Denis patted my head and returned to the counter. Her touch, her scent—vulgar, but I was rock hard.
Little dick pitched a fierce tent.
Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling.
"Pfft."
Someone entered, but I couldn't stand.
Denis knew why I sat awkward and burst laughing.
"Welcome!"
Lisa greeted in my stead.
"...Finally..."
Hooded figures. Three, like the mercs earlier.
They ignored Lisa, brushing past.
"..."
The three scanned the inn, then flinched spotting me at the table.
"...There he is."
One muttered, and the others' eyes followed. Heads locked.
Three stares pinned me.
"...Those mercs we sent packing already turned into girls?"
No time for questions. The women staring turned sharply to the counter.
They tossed a leather pouch at Denis. Looked heavy.
"Separate rooms. Paying a month upfront."
"Welcome, guests."
Long-term stays.
Denis's face lit up.
'...Kinda familiar.'
Those women's faces rang a bell somehow.