- The phone rang for hopefully the last time that night; pot-heads realizing the place was about to close getting in last-minute orders; when I picked up, they sounded high, but these callers weren't usually female, still, the lady's voice fit the description. Had an odd accent too, I couldn't quite place it.
- "Hello, you've reached Pizza Barn, where every bite is a hoedown in your mouth. Is this a pick up or delivery order? Uh huh. Uh huh. Five Slaughterhouse specials, yes ma'am. Could I have your number and address? Yeah. Got that, wait, five three seven? Okay, thanks. It'll be $106.95. Your order should be there in about forty minutes. Thank you ma'am."
- I scribbled down the order and address and called it out to our head baker as I put my hairnet back on; he shook his head in dismay; five of the largest special items twenty minutes before we close. I couldn't really blame them, the Slaughterhouse was a personal favorite of mine; basically it's just a pie with every justifiable kind of meat that can be put on a pizza on it. Hopefully they had enough money to pay.
- Fucking druggies man.
- Still, we had the pies in the car within half an hour, and I was driving them over, since the other delivery guy was still out with a previous order. I put the delivery lamp on my junker's roof and squeezed into the driver's seat. I'm not fat, well, I'm a little chubby, but that's not the point; it's just my car was not built for an eight foot tall hyena person. It's not really a matter of species so much as the fact most cars aren't made for an 8 foot tall anything. Though I've yet to find a car that has the comfort of the be-tailed in mind. The market for car seats with holes in the back is quite lucrative in certain communities.
- Being a "Pizza Barn Pizza Delivery Specialist" does not make one feel special, still it's a job, and not an especially bad one for a Gnoll just graduated from high school. Most of my friends are jobless, since the hiring prospects for most non-humans still ain't that good, especially in this economy. Me, I was adopted, so my parents put in a good word with the manager. I guess that's cheating. Ah well, it's something.
- The address was an old shipping facility, refurbished into housing for non-humans, with each trailer entrance the door for a new apartment meant for the larger species. In this town that mostly meant centaurs, but there was an odd giant or two. The addressee lived in the last apartment on the row, so I parked the car in front of the long, low ramp installed for species that can't use stairs, and hauled the pizzas from the passenger seat. I rang the doorbell and waited. And waited. And rang again. Then knocked on the thin metal plating that made up the garage door; the front door in this case. The harsh rapping was more than loud enough to get someone's attention and so soon enough the grating rose, eventually revealing a rather long and plump torso. I mused this was probably not the first time they've had pizza. This torso lead up to an appreciably large and embarrassingly bare pair of breasts. About a foot over my head too.
- Ah, Lamia.
- Professionalism would dictate one not stare. Teenagerism would dictate fuck that, boobies. In the end I cut my losses and politely raised the stack of pies in front of my face.
- "Pizza delivery!"
- The lamia blinked down at me, as if not entirely sure what to do when one has ordered a pizza. She turned and waved me in, calling out; "Sssister, the food iss here!" Ah, that was the accent. Sssibilant s's.
- I stepped in and the door began to lower shut behind me, I shot a nervous glance to my car before shrugging and waiting. To watch a lamia turn is a strange thing; their snakelike portion bunching up as they sort of slide behind themselves. Or something. Anyway, they need a lot of space, which is why the apartment was very sparsely furnished; aside from the kitchen and a couch, presumably for guests, the place was empty. That did not explain the lack of light though. Gnolls can see in the dark so I wasn't especially bothered, it was just odd. I guessed they could too. The first lamia was soon joined by her sister from a back room, similarly nude; again, my sympathies lay with them, walking, er, slithering around naked is great; it's why I wear a kilt, but when you have strangers over, at least throw on a shirt.
- "Uh, it's $106.95, plus tip." I stammered as they drew near.
- "It looks deliciousss~" the sister hissed, her eyes focused far more on me than on the stack of boxes, "You sshall have a tip, little mammal. Would you like to join uss for dinner?" she inquired as her tongue darted out between her fangs, bared in a smile.
- She could probably see my throat bob as I gulped. I was hungry, sure, but I would have preferred cash.
- "Um, well I get off now, so-"
- "No little mammal, you get off when we let you." The first one interjected; what was that supposed to mean? They leaned closer, their tails beginning to entwine with each others and soon my legs. I tried to back away but I quickly bumped up against the door.
- "Sarisssa, help the mammal with the pizzas." The second sister chided as she leaned over me. Good thing too; I was starting to shake so hard they were bound to drop. "My name iss Herasssca, and thiss is my ssister, Sarisssa." She gestured to her sister, who had simply placed the pies on the floor, a little to the side.
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