Board Thread:What Would You Do?/@comment-38255726-20190122042932/@comment-36855838-20190122122601

"Are you charles?"

I'm busy counting the day's earnings.

"Yes, what of it, are you a customer?"

He chuckles.

"Oh, no. I'm a traveling merchant, I offer matchmaking services on behalf of my mistress."

I stop, a small crescent crested coin in hand.

"Matchmaking?"

He seats himself in an armchair, despite the fact that I keep no chairs in the customer space.

"Yes, more or less. You see, we've forayed into the business of wife husbandry, and after much deliberation, we've decided on one of the girls for you."

I spare him a dumbstruck glance, opting instead to keep counting money,, ticking off tallies as I go so I can keep asking questions.

"And do I have any say in the matter?"

"Well, yes! That's the beauty of it! A lot of men don't get much choice when it comes to mamono these days, but-"

I stab the bell hanging over the store counter, and the ringing resonance grates at our eardrums.

While the old man covers his ears, I lock the front door.

While he's busy whining about the noise, I pull him towards the back room by his elbow.

"What on earth is wrong with you, young man?!"

"You'll have us hanged, you git!"

He rubs at his ears for several minutes, muttering under his breath.

"Okay, now that we're definitely out of earshot, tell me more."

He gives me a playful scowl, before resuming.

"-but with our promise of matchmaking, the girls are content to wait longer, and we can offer potential husbands the freedom of choice!"

I have been lonely, I guess there's no harm in a meeting.

"When are we supposed to meet, and what is she like, exactly?"

He looks more nervous.

"Have you heard of Holstaurs?"

I certainly had, they are rather common.

"You saw fit to go to all this trouble over Holstaurs?"

As I laugh, I see his expression is grim.

"We screwed up, and I'll be honest, the results are out of control."

He shoves me into a chair that was never there.

"We were working on a new machine, trying to mix monsters together, trying to see if we could toss out the pesky issue Holstsurs have over seeing red."

My brother got invited to His girlfriend's family reunion, and since he wore red, it soon begame an orgy, I knew all about this, and it certainly made me intrigued.

"So what went 'wrong'?"

The old man sunk into another armchair, sighing.

"We were aiming for papillon, so we tried to find one, but it didn't pan out. Then I suggested we mix in a Beelzebub-"

I gasped, I had heard the stories, of how those things had been blights upon the land, devouring all in their path like supernatural locusts.

They certainly must have changed, considering Holstaur effectively used to be giant bulldozers.

"-and so we did, the result wasn't even remotely controllable. The docile nature of the holstaur wasn't contributed, only the overwhelming lust was, and that got dogpiled in with the unending hunger of the beelzebub."

I can imagine it now, a dappled-fur beelzebub with large breasts and white hair, a long cow tail swishing in the breeze of her wingflaps.

"We can't control them, our first one got frisky with a handler, and now we're on second generation, they breed like crazy, like no mamono before. One pregnancy bears eight hundred offspring, because they lay very small eggs."

He gives me a grim look.

"We've sterilized our first one, and sent her packing to a distant locale with her man, so once we've handed out the last of her daughters, it'll be out of our hands."

It slowly dawns on me what he's actually saying.

"So even if I refuse-"

"In all likelihood, you'll be marrying one anyway, yes."

I lean back.

"So what's my incentive to buy in now, if I can get a wife later anyway?"

He leans in.

"Because we're willing to tell you how to deal with the intricacies of these mamono, and help give you an edge so you aren't caught with your pants down, so to speak."

I sit up, my mind made up.

"Alright, show me the cowfly."

He grins.

"Let's shake on it."

As I take his hand, the room goes grey, and misty, before I fall on my butt, alone in the stockroom once more.

---

The counting done, I close up the store completely and prepare to head ho-

Crunch, munch, slurp.

I turn around, to see a girl in a yellow dress devouring pork rinds and jerky.

The garment stops just below the ample curve of her rear, and is almost stretched thin by her wide hips and large breasts.

A dappled tail does indeed swing behind her, but it looks quite like a furred lobster tail, and reaches to her ankles.

Her back does indeed possess wings, and so her dress is not at all dissimilar to a certain sweater.

She continues to chow down, devouring a truly staggering amount of food.

When at last she stops, licking eagerly at her hands, stained as they are with grease, I have mere moments to understand what's happening as she turns on hoofed feet, her legs covered with fur, her wings, a stark white, flutter, scattering powder in the air, and I glimpse the old man, outside the store.

He's holding a sign, and as my new wife tackles me, I manage to read it.

'We threw in moths!'