Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

The Love of Ladies Behind Locked Doors.	By : Menydragon5 Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1677 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimer I do not own any character or all characters in these stories. And AI has been used in all oneshots within this collection.

Chapter List
- 37
- 38
The stench of exhaust fumes and hot pavement clung to Judy’s fur like cheap perfume as she navigated the chaotic swell of Hollywood Boulevard. Her patrol radio crackled to life against the din of honking cars and human chatter—a sound that still made her ears twitch involuntarily.

"Unit 7-1-4, Hopps," she barked into the receiver, one paw resting on her holster while the other shielded her eyes from the relentless California sun.

The dispatcher’s voice sliced through the static: *"Head to Toontown immediately. High-profile assignment: Jessica Rabbit’s Oscar security detail. She’s prepping at her manor. First toon Best Actress nominee—eyes are on this, Hopps. Don’t screw it up."*

Judy’s heart hammered against her Kevlar vest. *Jessica Rabbit.* The name alone conjured images of scandalous headlines and shimmering red gowns—a far cry from parking tickets and purse-snatchers. She pictured the actress’s impossible curves, the way human men’s jaws hit the floor when she sauntered past. Doubt prickled beneath Judy’s fur. *They picked me? A rookie rabbit?*

"Copy that," she managed, her voice tight. She forced her ears upright—professional, always professional—but her mind raced. This wasn’t just protection duty; it was history. If anything happened to Jessica tonight, every toon from here to Acme Acres would pay the price.

The drive out of L.A. was a blur of smog-gray sky scrapers and flickering neon signs. Judy’s tiny paws gripped the steering wheel, knuckles pale beneath her fur. Her patrol car—a modified Volkswagen Beetle with exaggerated cartoon headlights—weaved through human-sized lanes with honking horns trailing behind. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered, swerving sharply. "Ever heard of respecting a siren?" A towering human SUV practically brushed her fender, its engine roar deafening. Her jump reflex kicked in, feet lifting off the pedals as her eyes bulged cartoonishly. *Control it*, she hissed internally, slamming her paws back down. She couldn’t afford liquefied eyeballs right now.

She hit Sunset Boulevard’s edge where the city frayed into scrubby hills. "Almost there," Judy breathed, accelerating toward the jagged silhouette of the Catalina foothills. The entrance was unmarked—just a fissure in the rock wall draped by thick, thorny bougainvillea vines that twitched like sleepy snakes as she approached. A mossy brass intercom box protruded, its speaker crackling. "*Name and business, dollface?*" croaked a voice like rusty nails shaking in a tin can—Mugsy, the tunnel troll. Judy flashed her badge against the grimy lens. "Officer Hopps. Priority assignment." A grinding sound echoed, stone scraping stone as the bougainvillea slithered aside to reveal a darkness deeper than ink.

The tunnel swallowed her car whole, headlights slicing through the gloom. Water dripped like slow applause onto the Beetle’s canvas roof. The air smelled of wet chalk and mineral dust, thick enough to coat her tongue. Five miles in, a shimmer pulsed ahead—glowing crimson like pooled blood under moonlight. Judy rolled down her window. "*Password?*" whispered the curtains themselves, velvet folds rippling with sentient malice. She cleared her throat, voice echoing: **"Anyone can be anything."** The heavy velvet shivered—then tore itself apart with a sound like tearing silk, revealing painterly hills under a lemon-yellow sky. Relief washed through her, sudden and sweet as sugar syrup.

Toontown air hit her: bubblegum-sweet and laced with ozone from distant anvil clouds. Judy inhaled sharply; her fur lifted as static sparked between her ears. Below, a valley unfurled—houses bent at physics-defying angles, roads like coiled springs, a distant lake shaped like a whoopee cushion. Her patrol radio fizzed alive: *"Hopps! Report to Rabbit Ridge Manor immediately!"* Nick Wilde’s lazy drawl cut through the burst of static. "*Carrots, you’re late. Jessica’s already practicing her acceptance speech... and her escape routes.*"

Judy slammed the accelerator, the Beetle bouncing over a hill like a skipped stone. "What escape routes?" she yelled over the engine whine. Cartoon wheat fields blurred past, stalks swaying in syncopated rhythms.

Nick snorted over the line. "*Carrots, she’s wearing a dress tighter than a sealed evidence bag. You think she’ll waddle through paparazzi? Weaselton tipped me about a tunnel behind her shoe closet—exit straight into Acme Gulch.*"

Judy’s jaw clenched. "Duke Weaselton’s intel is worth less than a melted popsicle stick!" She swerved past a slow-moving jalopy shaped like a teapot. Steam hissed from its spout as it honked indignantly.

"Relax," Nick purred. "*I’ve got eyes on her ruby slippers. Just get here before she decides stilettos are tactical gear.*" The radio died mid-chuckle.

Judy tore through Toontown proper—past a bakery ejecting cinnamon-scented smoke rings, a bookstore where letters peeled off signs to chase butterflies. Each turn tightened the knot in her stomach. Jessica wasn’t just a client; she was velvet dynamite. One spark of scandal and every human tabloid would scream *"Toons Can’t Be Trusted!"* Her paws drummed the steering wheel. "C'mon, c'mon!"

Nick's voice sliced back through the radio static, dripping with faux concern. "*Carrots, you hit a snail parade? Herpanicured hedge maze just ate a paparazzo squirrel—spat out his camera, but the flashbulb’s still digesting.*"

**"Tell her I’m five minutes out!"** Judy barked, swerving to avoid a sentient pothole gulping down rogue marbles. **"And Duke’s tunnel? Seal it! Last thing we need is her vanishing like ink in water."**

**"Already jammed it with novelty whoopee cushions,"** Nick drawled. **"Classier than cement, less lawsuit-y. Though I did hear a suspicious *squeeeeak*..."**

The Beetle crested a hill. Below, languid against a candy-apple sunset, sprawled Jessica’s estate. It wasn’t just a mansion; it was a jazz riff in architecture—curving staircases like spilled molasses, windows winking stained-glass eyes, gargoyles blowing smoke rings. Judy’s breath caught. *"Gorgeous,"* she whispered, the word tasting unexpectedly tart. Her pulse fluttered—not from panic, but something warmer, prickling beneath her Kevlar vest.

She punched the intercom. **"Officer Hopps, LAPD!"** The wrought-iron gates yawned open, hinges groaning like stretchy taffy. Her tires crunched over gravel resembling crushed peppermints. Up close, the mansion’s crimson bricks pulsed faintly, like a sleeping heart. Judy parked beside a fountain where marble Cupids wept glittering tears. The air thickened—honeysuckle and something deeper, muskier. Jessica’s perfume. It slid down Judy’s throat, sweet and dangerous as spiked honey. Her ears twitched. High heels clicked on marble inside—*tap, tap, pause*. A silhouette moved behind gauzy curtains: impossibly tall, impossibly curved.

Judy smoothed her uniform, inhaling sharply. Time to meet the legend.

*Hop!* She bounced on her padded toes, straining upward until her fingertip grazed the brass bell. *Ding-dong!* The chime echoed like piano keys dropped down a well. The door swung inward, revealing towering green velvet slippers and calves that tapered impossibly upward. Jessica stood silhouetted against honeyed hallway light, a single eyebrow arched.

"Well, hello?" Her voice was slow bourbon poured over velvet, eyes scanning eye-level emptiness before drifting down, down. "Oh!" A delighted gasp escaped her painted lips. "And what have we here? A little gray stormcloud in uniform!" Jessica leaned forward, emerald robe gaping to reveal the shadowed valley between ink-drawn breasts. "You're absolutely precious—those ears! May I?" Her fingertip hovered beside Judy's twitching ear tip.

"S-Security detail! Officer Judy Hopps, ma'am!" Judy snapped a salute, flushing violet beneath her fur. The robe's silk whispered secrets as Jessica shifted, jasmine perfume thickening the air. Judy fought the urge to sneeze cartoon stars.

"Officer?" Jessica's laugh purred like a contented panther. "Darling, you're tinier than my martini olive. Come in before some paparazzo birdie scoops you up." She stepped back, robe swirling around ankles like liquid emerald. "I'm practically naked and you're blushing brighter than my lipstick. Adorable."

Stepping inside felt like diving into warm ink—polished mahogany floors gleaming beneath crystal chandeliers shaped like weeping willows. Jessica gestured languidly toward a sitting room dominated by a grand piano. "Champagne?" She poured without waiting, the robe's sash loosening further as she bent. "Now tell me honestly, Officer Hopps —do I look like someone who'd need protection?" Jessica spun slowly, silk sliding dangerously low. Judy's gaze snagged on the hypnotic sway of hips, the robe's edge catching precariously on one peach-ink hipbone. "Or," Jessica murmured, leaning so close Judy felt her breath stir the fur between her ears, "...am *I* the hazard?" The robe sighed open another inch.

Judy swallowed audibly, the sound echoing in her throat like a dropped marble. "Official regulation prohibits alcohol consumption during duty hours, Ms. Rabbit." Her toes curled, dampening the static crackle climbing her spine. "Perhaps... perhaps some carrot juice?" The tremor in her voice betrayed her, purple irises flickering involuntarily toward heart-shaped crimson lips. "Maintaining full alertness is paramount."

Jessica chuckled, a husky ripple that vibrated through Judy's ribs. "Darling, my personal blender liquifies anticipation better than carrots." She trailed a fingertip along Judy's stiff collar seam. "But for you?" One elegant shoulder lifted in a shrug that sent silk cascading. A bell summoned an unseen servant; Jessica’s gaze never left Judy’s face. "Tell me, little stormcloud—what drew you to *this* particular assignment? Eager for scandal? Or..." Her hand hovered near Judy's twitching ear again. "...curious?"

"Protocol demands precision!" Judy blurted, ears snapping rigid. She forced her paws flat against her uniform seams. "But... understanding client disposition aids threat assessment." Her heartbeat thrummed against her Kevlar, picturing Duke’s tunnel sealed with whoopee cushions. "Your reputation precedes you, Ms. Rabbit."

"Reputation?" Jessica arched a perfect brow, accepting a frosted glass of vibrant orange liquid from a floating tray. She pressed it into Judy’s trembling paw. "Ah yes. The siren, the scandal." Her sigh brushed Judy’s nose—vanilla and forbidden smoke. "You’d rather witness what lies *beneath* the headlines, wouldn’t you?" She settled onto the piano bench, patting the space beside her. The robe slipped entirely from one shoulder. “Security requires... proximity.” The invitation shimmered, thick as molten honey. Judy’s resolve softened at the edges.

Judy perched stiffly beside her, Kevlar vest digging into her ribs as the grand piano loomed like polished obsidian. "Your career," she began, focusing on Jessica's eyes—emerald pools reflecting the trembling rabbit—"it challenges norms. Humans... they whisper." Judy’s fur prickled under Jessica’s unwavering gaze. Beneath the silk robe and perfume, Judy sensed the coiled tension of a trapdoor spider. "Does the speculation ever wound you?" She gestured toward the distant hills. "Or does their fixation fuel you?"

Jessica traced the lip of her champagne flute, the crystal singing a sharp *ping*. "Darling," she murmured, shifting closer, silk pooling against Judy’s thigh, like liquid shadow finally touching the sun. "Humans confuse *desire* for understanding. They sketch me with sticky fingers and call it art." Judy smelled salt-tang beneath the jasmine—sweat on silk. "But you," Jessica’s fingertip lifted Judy’s chin, "see past the ink." Her thumb grazed Judy’s jawline, a frictionless glide against soft fur. "You know how heavy a crown feels beneath floodlights."

Judy’s breath caught. Beneath her uniform, sweat cooled the small of her back. She leaned fractionally into Jessica’s touch—a moth acknowledging the flame. "We both wear uniforms," Judy whispered, her voice cracking like dry plaster. "Yours shines. Mine shields."

Jessica’s laugh was low-lidded delight, a vibration Judy felt deep in her belly. "Shield?" Jessica echoed, leaning so near that her breath stirred Judy’s eyelashes. "Come, Officer." Her perfume thickened into something darker—musk and anticipation. "Let’s discuss... vulnerabilities." Their knees touched beneath crumpled silk. Judy’s ears flushed crimson at the tips.

"Dialogue? Darling, dressing requires... commentary." Jessica slid from the piano bench, silk robe whispering against her thighs as she strode toward the curved staircase. "First, the foundation." Her hips cut hypnotic arcs through honeyed air, each sway a challenge to gravity. Judy scrambled after her, paws sinking into plush carpet. "Human corsets—torture devices!" Jessica called over her shoulder, robe sash unraveling like a green satin snake. "But silk? Silk knows secrets."

Judy’s throat tightened. "Protocol suggests—"

"—protocol," Jessica interrupted, pausing on the third step, "hasn’t seen what waits beneath." Her reddened lips curved. Judy followed—eyes locked on the dangerous ripple of spine beneath velvet—past oil paintings whose eyes tracked their ascent. The hallway narrowed to a lacquered door frame. Jessica’s fingertip lingered on the crystal knob. "Tell me, little stormcloud... ever guarded temptation?" Her robe slid sideways. Judy’s gaze fixed on the exposed peach-ink collarbone.

Heat pooled beneath Judy’s Kevlar vest. "Only threats."

"Is that so?" Jessica’s laugh curled like smoke beneath the doorframe. She pushed open the lacquered door, revealing a sanctuary painted in twilight indigo and gold leaf. At its center stood a freestanding screen—chinoiserie dragons entwined around silk panels. Jessica glided toward it, her robe slipping entirely from her shoulders to puddle at her feet like spilled ink. Judy’s breath hitched. Naked save for stockings and those impossible stilettos, Jessica’s silhouette cut a predatory curve against the screen’s glow. "Keep talking, Officer. Distract me from stage fright."

Judy swallowed, throat clicking dryly. "Your security protocols—the Acme Gulch tunnel." Her voice sounded thin, strained. She watched Jessica’s shadow stretch across the screen—long fingers gathering filmy fabric from a velvet chair. "We sealed it with... pneumatic deterrents."

"*Squeeeeak* cushions?" Jessica’s shadow paused, one arm lifting to drape shimmering cloth over a shoulder. The silhouette sharpened: the impossible hourglass waist, the swell of hips. Judy’s ears burned. "Resourceful. Though I’d have preferred bubble wrap—more dignified pops." A soft rustle, the slide of silk. Judy’s gaze fixed on the shadow-play—the dip of Jessica’s spine as she bent, the slow ascent of fabric along endless legs. "Tell me, why *you*, little rabbit? Why assign L.A.’s tiniest shield to its most... *voluptuous* target?"

Muscle memory forced Judy’s paws to her duty belt. "Standard threat matrix analysis." The lie tasted sour. She tracked the shadow’s movements—the arch of Jessica’s back as she fastened something behind her neck, the way the screen shuddered with each breath. Judy’s own breath came faster, shallower. "High visibility events demand..."

"Oh, *visibility*." Jessica stepped sideways—just enough to reveal her profile beyond the screen’s edge. Judy gasped. Crimson sequins devoured light, clinging to every impossible inch. No straps, no clasps. Only the dizzying plunge of fabric between G-cup breasts. Jessica turned fully now, unhurried, letting Judy absorb the scandalous cut. "Do you approve of my fortifications, Officer?" She smoothed the hip-flaring skirt, her fingertips lingering near the apex of her thigh slit. "Seamless."

Judy’s cheeks flamed violet. Her knuckles whitened around her radio. Jessica hadn’t worn *anything* beneath the dress. No lace, no lining—just bare peach ink beneath divine red sequins. The realization punched through Judy’s sternum, hot and dizzying. Her voice emerged ragged. "It—it lacks... structural support. For rapid evacuation."

Jessica’s answering smile was a slow blade. "Darling," she purred, stepping closer until the heat of her radiated through Judy’s uniform. The dress’s neckline dipped perilously lower. Judy smelled salt and gardenias. "The only rapid thing tonight..." Jessica’s gloved hand brushed Judy’s ear-tip, igniting sparks along her nerves. "...will be your pulse."

She pivoted abruptly, sequins rippling like liquid rubies. "Now," Jessica murmured, draping herself against the velvet chaise in a pose that defied anatomy—one knee bent, hip thrust sideways, shoulders rolled deliberately backward. Light caressed the arc of her throat. "How do I look?" Her gaze pinned Judy, heavy-lidded, dangerous. *Answer truthfully*, it commanded. *Dare you.*

Judy’s throat clicked dryly. She fumbled for professionalism. "Strategically... advantageous, Ms. Rabbit. The crimson provides low-visibility camouflage against high-velocity photographers." Her eyes betrayed her, tracing the seam where sequins clung to Jessica’s thigh. "Perimeter security remains... compromised along certain vectors." Her paw gestured vaguely toward the scandalous plunge of fabric between Jessica’s breasts. Her fur flushed violet.

Jessica’s laughter was honeyed smoke. "Compromised? Oh, officer. Incorrect." She leaned forward, silk whispering secrets. Judy watched her collarbones shift beneath perfect ink. "This silhouette *is* the defense." Her fingertip traced the neckline’s curve. "Distraction is the ultimate armor." Her gaze swept Judy’s stiff uniform, lingering on the Kevlar straining across her small chest. "Unlike you. Planning to repel paparazzi bullets in canvas? What are *you* wearing with me tonight?"

"My... patrol attire," Judy stammered, paws tightening over her duty belt. "Standard issue. Maximum mobility."

Jessica *tsked*, rising languidly. Inches away, she towered, scent enveloping Judy—jasmine and power. "Little stormcloud," she breathed, fingertips grazing Judy’s lapel. "Your uniform is darling for parking tickets. For Oscar night?" Her gloved thumb traced the curve of Judy’s hipbone beneath the stiff fabric. Judy trembled. "They’ll mistake you for a lost valet." Jessica’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial murmur. "You need silk. Something scandalously short to showcase those ridiculously sexy legs."

Judy’s ears flattened. "Sexy?" The word choked her. "N-nonsense! I’m... utilitarian." She gestured helplessly at her gray fur, her blocky uniform. "Compared to you?" Her laugh cracked. "I’m a dust bunny beside a supernova!" Heat pooled beneath her vest—humiliation tangled with something darker, sweeter. Her tail twitched violently.

Before she could blink, Jessica closed the distance, long arms sweeping beneath Judy’s hips. Silk-gloved hands scooped her off the plush carpet like she weighed nothing. "Darling," Jessica breathed, effortlessly lifting Judy until their faces were level, Judy's dangling paws brushing nothing but air. Tiny gray hands instinctively gripped Jessica’s bare shoulders—velvet skin impossibly *warm* beneath her furred fingertips, muscles like coiled silk beneath.

Judy’s breath hitched. The sudden intimacy was dizzying, the scent of salt and gardenias overwhelming this close. Below the little curve of her chest, the dizzying plunge of crimson sequins beckoned—a canyon echoing Jessica’s heartbeat. Judy squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the gravitational pull downwards. *Don’t look. Don’t you dare look.*

Jessica’s thumb brushed Judy’s jawline, tilting her face up with agonizing gentleness. "Look at me, Judy." The command was soft, irresistible. Judy’s purple eyes fluttered open, locking onto Jessica’s heavy-lidded emerald gaze inches away. Jessica’s smile was tender, devastating. "You *are* sexy," she murmured, her breath warm on Judy’s muzzle. "All fierce angles and stubborn curves beneath that dreadful canvas." One elegant finger traced the outline of Judy’s pointed ear, making her shiver. "I see it clearly," Jessica whispered, her voice thick with conviction. "A gorgeous rabbit toon yearning to shed her stormcloud gray." Her gaze dropped meaningfully towards Judy’s trembling form. "The line of your neck... the defiance in your shoulders... utterly bewitching."

Judy’s cheeks burned violet. Mortification warred with a terrifying thrill. *She’s seeing things,* Judy thought frantically, her gaze flickering wildly to avoid the forbidden horizon of Jessica’s exposed cleavage just centimeters below. Her small chest felt achingly tight against the stiff Kevlar. *I’m practical fur and police blues. Not shimmer. Not... that.* The sheer impossibility of Jessica’s words—seeing *her*, Judy Hopps, lost little rabbit cop, as something... desirable—made her heart pound like a frantic drum against Jessica’s palm still resting beneath her ribs. *She’s drawn perfect. I’m drawn... functional.* The difference felt like a canyon wider than Toontown Gulch.

Jessica’s emerald eyes softened. "Enough arguments, Officer." She lowered Judy gently onto plush carpet tinged with twilight filtering through stained-glass panes. A graceful pivot, and Jessica strode toward the wall where Judy hadn’t noticed the tall, chrome-hued monstrosity—its silhouette blending with the art deco shadows. Intricate gears and polished pipes hinted at its purpose beneath a dust cover shimmering like forgotten starlight. Jessica swept off the cover with a dramatic flourish. "Behold," she murmured, her voice rich velvet coating steel. "The Velvet Verdict."

Judy blinked. Before her stood what looked vaguely like a retro rocket cockpit crossed with a plush therapist’s chair, all gleaming chrome and lavender velvet cushions. Tiny blinking bulbs traced its frame like curious fireflies. Jessica didn’t hesitate. Strong hands—silk gloves surprisingly firm—guided Judy by the hips and deposited her squarely onto the deep-cushioned seat, its softness swallowing her stiff uniform instantly. "Jessica, wait—" Judy stammered, paws scrabbling uselessly against the velvet armrests. But Jessica’s finger was already pressing a large, candy-apple-red button beside Judy’s shoulder, its surface slick as glaze.

A soft *hiss* like escaping steam. Hydraulics groaned, muffled deep within the machine. With terrifying gentleness, the entire chair—with Judy pinned like a butterfly—receded smoothly *into* the chrome maw of the Velvet Verdict. The opening irised shut with a final *click*, sealing her in darkness thicker than ink. Cold panic seized Judy’s lungs. *Trapped! DIP could—* Her eyes bulged cartoonishly, straining against the pitch blackness, her ears twitching violently against her skull. *No,* she forced herself to breathe, rational thought battling primal fear. *Jessica wouldn't...* Then, directly before her startled face, a panel hummed to life—a screen that hadn’t been there a heartbeat ago.

Its soft, blue-white glow washed over Judy like cold moonlight. Onto the screen resolved the flawless image of a woman’s face—painted lips lush and impossibly red, eyes heavy-lidded sapphires beneath arched brows. A sultry sigh filled the small chamber, smelling faintly of roses and vanilla-laced smoke. "Oh, honeybun," purred the digital voice, low and smoky as Jessica’s, yet distinctly artificial—like crystal rubbed against velvet. "Hiding that little sparkle under all that scratchy armor?" The screen-woman’s pixel-perfect lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Let's peel you out of those dreary blues."

Judy stiffened, paws gripping the armrests tighter. "Hey now—protocol violation! Unauthorized disrobing procedure!" Her fur prickled beneath her Kevlar vest as unseen mechanisms hissed softly behind the chrome panels. A panel slid open inches above her knees, revealing sleek, articulated arms tipped with pristine white ink gloves—feminine hands sculpted from polished chrome and pearlescent silicone, their fingers tapered like elegant claws. They drifted downward with unnerving grace, hovering millimeters from the buckles of her duty belt.

"Darling," crooned the screen-face, its blue eyes blinking slowly, hypnotically. "Consider this... necessary calibration. Can't assess vulnerabilities if we can't *see* the goods, hm?" One chrome-tipped finger flicked the silver buckle with a soft *tink*. Judy inhaled sharply. "Settle down, little firework," the voice murmured. "Just a peek beneath the stormcloud." The mechanical hands were relentless, methodical. White-gloved fingers found the Velcro strap below her vest, peeling it apart with a sound like tearing paper. Cool air rushed across Judy's sweat-dampened chest fur as the vest lifted away, exposing the thin blue shirt beneath.

"Ms. Rabbit authorized this?!" Judy yelped, squirming uselessly as the chill intensified. Her shirt felt flimsy, exposed. The screen-lips parted in a velvet chuckle. "I *am* Velvet, honey." The machine’s reply was smooth as poured cream. "Jessica’s reflection... her sharper edge."

One gloved hand slid beneath Judy’s shirt hem, its cool silicone grazing the sensitive line of her waist fur. Judy gasped, ears flattening hard against the cushioned headrest, her entire body flushing violent violet beneath her gray fur. "Nngh—stop! That’s... that’s *private*!" The shirt peeled upwards, gathering beneath her arms, exposing the pale tummy fur and the soft push of her small chest. Velvet’s screen-eyes narrowed with feline amusement. "And yet, so very public."

The chrome hands didn’t pause. Delicate fingertips traced the elastic edge of Judy’s standard-issue sports bra, gliding along the curved little swell beneath the sheer fabric. Judy whimpered, biting back a shameful throb deep in her belly. "S-see? Utilitarian," she stammered, cheeks burning. "Not... decorative!"

Velvet's digital sigh feigned sympathy. "Oh, sweet pea," it crooned. Behind her back, a clasp popped open. The bra loosened. "Function is its *own* allure." The garment slid away, pooling cold silkiness over Judy’s lap. She flinched violently as chill air kissed her bare nipples, the stiff peaks instantly visible against her pale chest fur. Heat flooded her face—a scorching wave from ears to muzzle. Her eyes squeezed shut, heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird. Velvet’s soft, synthesized whistle echoed in the tight space. "Mmm... defiant little buds. Quite the tactical distraction."

The white-gloved hands descended lower. Judy’s breath hitched as they found her belt buckle again. A click, then the rasp of zipper teeth parting. "Velvet—please!" Judy choked out, helpless as her pants slid down her hips, pooling at her ankles above her cute little rabbit feet. Only thin cotton briefs remained—sky blue with a cheerful carrot print. The machine paused. A pixelated eyebrow arched high. "Officer," it murmured, amusement thick as syrup. "How terribly... optimistic." The very tip of one silicone finger hooked beneath the waistband. Judy whimpered, hips lifting involuntarily as the fabric peeled downwards—millimeter by agonizing millimeter—cool air kissing her thigh fur, then the delicate triangle of darker fur beneath her belly. Her blush deepened to near-black violet, radiating heat she could feel in her eyelids. Velvet’s screen leaned impossibly close, its voice dropping to a husky whisper. "There she is. Raw. Untamed. Our ferocious little rabbit." Judy trembled, utterly exposed, the forced air of the machine huffing against her damp fur.

Velvet’s gaze swept across her bare form like velvet-coated sandpaper. "Those eyes," it breathed. Judy squirmed. "Deep violet ink lakes—wide, shining pools of stubborn passion." A synthesized sigh filled the tight space. Judy tried to fold her arms over her chest only to have one chrome-fingered hand gently tap hers away. "Don't hide those," Velvet purred. "Darling chest curves drawn with such... heartbreaking earnestness." Its screen tilted slightly. "Sweet little swells, like ripe persimmons—soft against your vest whenever you ran."

Judy felt the phantom pressure of Kevlar now gone. Her nipples tightened painfully beneath Velvet’s unblinking stare. Heat pooled low and thick in her belly, a sensation both terrifying and electric. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Stop..."

Velvet ignored her plea. Her voice wrapped around her bones. "Than that waist," she murmured, the chrome fingertip tracing an inch above Judy’s fur, making her gasp. "Slimmer than a pencil stroke—yet holding so much fire." Judy whimpered, hips instinctively twisting away, futilely. Velvet chuckled—a soft, melodic chime. "Ah, yes... those hips," it crooned. "Little curved mysteries promising hidden strength." The screen flashed crimson for a millisecond, like a blush. "Than... *that* bunny behind." Judy’s tear-drop tail twitched violently against the velvet cushion. Velvet sighed—a sound like rustling silk. "Curvy little perfection, drawn with such... hopeful bounce." Judy shuddered as phantom fingers seemed to trace the swell, her fur standing on end. "Oh... and those legs," Velvet concluded, its voice thick with awe. "Shapely legs made for leaping onto trouble—sleek muscle trembling beneath soft fur." Judy choked back a sob. Pure mortification warred violently with a terrifying ache blooming hot and wet between her thighs. Her heart hammered against her ribs—a frantic drum against velvet silence. Velvet leaned impossibly closer, her pixelated lips brushing the edge of the screen where Judy’s muzzle would touch. "Believe it," she breathed, hot static crackling. "*Believe* you’re exquisite."

Judy stared through tears, disbelief widening her eyes cartoonishly. *Two toons,* she thought wildly, Jessica’s velvet voice echoing Velvet’s digital purr. *Two impossibles.* A fragile, fluttering heat ignited deep inside her—something terrifyingly like hope drenched in lust. She swallowed hard. "Impossible..." she whispered, the word vanishing into the hum of unseen gears.

Velvet sighed—a soft cascade of synthetic silk. "Darling, the only impossibility is leaving *that* raw sparkle hidden." An unseen mechanism hissed sharply. From a sleek panel beside the screen slid a pair of panties—liquid black ink pooling on chrome, adorned with a perfectly-formed pink ink bow at the front. Velvet's white-gloved hands lifted them with reverence. "Observe," she murmured, her voice a low thrum. "Obsidian silk woven from midnight itself... yet softer than a sigh." The garments drifted lower, cool silk brushing Judy's trembling thighs. "Designed solely to worship *this*," Velvet whispered as the fabric slid upwards. Judy gasped as the cool silk settled against her fur, the waistband snug but yielding. "Hips," Velvet traced the outline with a hovering fingertip, "drawn with such defiant curvature." The panties hugged every contour, smoothing over Judy's rounded hips and generous rear, the fabric taut yet impossibly gentle. Judy's fluffy gray tail popped through a perfectly tailored hole in the back. Velvet hummed approval. "Ah, yes... the flourish. Your playful punctuation demanding attention."

"T-too tight," Judy stammered, acutely aware of the intimate pressure, the cool silk molding to her fur like a second skin. Her heart hammered against her ribs—an erratic drum against engineered silence.

"Nonsense, honeybun," Velvet chided gently, her screen-eyes gleaming. Another compartment opened revealing something impossibly intricate—a corset of purest ink-black satin, its ribs slim as graphite lines. Cold air prickled Judy's exposed waist fur. "This," Velvet breathed, lifting the garment like sacred artifact, "requires... ceremony." The chrome arms encircled Judy, the stiffened panels pressing cool satin against her slim midsection. "Breathe," Velvet commanded softly as fingers began tightening laces with agonizing precision. Judy inhaled shallowly, her ribs protesting slightly as the corset cinched firmly, sculpting her waist into an unnervingly dramatic hourglass beneath the gray fur. Velvet sighed rapturously. "Such fierce containment... holding that furnace of willpower snug. Defiance, refined." Judy whimpered, feeling simultaneously supported and constrained.

Velvet chuckled—a low, melodic vibration. "Now, the pièce de résistance..." Another panel slid open. Nestled within was a bra, tiny but bold—black ink lace over sheer cups, adorned with miniature satin bows at the center. "Less shield," Velvet murmured, lifting it with delicate chrome fingers, "more... revelation." The cool lace settled against Judy's bare chest. Velvet expertly hooked the clasp behind her. The structured cups pushed firmly upwards. Judy gasped, a sharp intake of breath. The small swells of her breasts lifted noticeably, fur compressed and shaped into two distinct, rounded curves that strained gently against the sheer fabric. Velvet's screen leaned close, pixelated lips parting. "Ah, *there*," she breathed, reverent. "Drawn not for utility... but for motion. Sweet little treasures trembling..." One gloved fingertip hovered a millimeter above the taut lace. "Imagine them... bouncing with each determined step you take." Judy felt a phantom sensation—the imagined jiggle against the snug lace, amplified by the corset's ruthless confinement below. Heat flooded her cheeks anew, prickling deep beneath her fur. Her nipples, stiffened by the chill and scrutiny, brushed against the smooth inner lining, sending a jolt down her spine. Velvet sighed, pure satisfaction. "Power," she murmured, "wrapped in trembling silk."

Judy stared at Velvet's glowing visage, then down at her own transformed body—the black silk clinging to curves she'd hidden beneath blues for years, the corset's fierce embrace, the bra's impossible lift making her feel strangely exposed yet potent. A tremor ran through her, part terror, part terrifying thrill. Her violet eyes widened—not in cartoonish pop-out panic, but profound, unsettling revelation. *This is... me?*

The Velvet Verdict hummed around her, a chrome womb reflecting her impossible ink. Velvet's smile deepened, edged with triumph. "Believe," she whispered again, a command etched in static. "Now... *feel*."

Before Judy could protest, Velvet gestured sharply. "Observe," she murmured, her voice dropping to a reverent hush. A hidden drawer slid open silently below the glowing screen. Nestled within, shimmering like captured moonlight, lay a cascade of fabric – a sparkly dark blue ink long dress. Judy’s breath hitched. It wasn't just blue; it was *depth* incarnate, swirling with deeper indigo veins like ink blooming in water. The V-neck plunged daringly low, its edges flickering with infinitesimal silver threads like captured stars. Velvet lifted the garment with chrome fingers tipped in purest white. The fabric whispered, impossibly light and cool against the air. "Midnight spun from sky-dark," Velvet breathed, bringing the dress close. The scent of midnight and distant rain washed over Judy. "Tailored solely for *your* fierce silhouette, Officer. Forged in the fires of forgotten constellations." Velvet’s hands moved with uncanny grace, guiding Judy’s trembling paws through the fragile straps. The cool, shimmering ink silk slithered over her fur, settling like liquid shadow onto the curves defined by the corset and lace. Judy gasped as it pooled around her form, the intricate beading catching the light like dew on spiderwebs. The V-neck framed her corset-enhanced cleavage and the taut lace of her bra beneath, a daring window to her transformed chest. The sensation was alien – a cool embrace whispering against her fur, highlighting every firm contour sculpted by doubt and determination. It felt less like wearing clothes, more like draping herself in velvet night sky. "This," Velvet declared, smoothing an invisible wrinkle over Judy’s hip, "isn't concealment. It's... declaration."

Judy stared, wide-eyed, at her reflection fragmented in the chrome panels. "It’s... too much," she stammered, the fabric shimmering with every shallow breath. "I look ridiculous. Like a... a doll." The dress clung to her bunny hips, accentuated the narrow waist cinched by the corset, and fell in a dark cascade that brushed her bare rabbit feet. It felt like exposure amplified, her soft fur now a canvas for impossible glamour beneath the cool silk.

"Ridiculous?" Velvet chuckled, a low, melodic chime echoing in the chamber. "Nonsense, little ember. You look *essential*. Now..." Another panel hissed open laterally. Revealed were long gloves – crafted from purest black ink leather, impossibly smooth and gleaming faintly. They lay like sleek shadows. Velvet retrieved them, the material whispering promises as it moved. "Obsidian rivers," she murmured, holding one glove open. "Flowing solely to kiss *your* defiance." Judy hesitantly extended a trembling paw. The cool, slick interior of the glove embraced her fur, enveloping her forearm snugly past her elbow. Velvet expertly secured tiny clasps at her wrists, the metal cool against her fur. The sensation was startling – a firm, smooth pressure encasing her limbs, rendering her paws dark, elegant extensions. It felt restrictive yet powerful, turning her practical rabbit hands into something sculpted, almost dangerous. Judy flexed her fingers tentatively; the ink leather moved with her, silent and supple. "These," Velvet whispered, smoothing the glove over Judy's elbow, "are not restraints. They're... conduits. For the power you already hold." The transformation deepened – the soft rabbit obscured by sleek, enigmatic armor.

"Almost symphonic," Velvet hummed. Her screen shifted focus downward, toward Judy’s feet still resting awkwardly on the chrome floor. The next panel opened vertically, revealing twin slopes of pure sunlight – golden ink open-toed high heels. They were architectural marvels: impossibly slender stilettos crafted from molten, gleaming gold ink, rising in a perilous arc. The straps were delicate wisps of the same metallic hue. "Solar flares," Velvet breathed, lifting one heel with reverence. "Forged solely to elevate *your* relentless gait."

Judy stared, ears drooping slightly. "Those? N-no! I can't even walk properly in my own paws!"

Velvet simply smiled, placing the shoe resolutely before her feet. "Place your trust, Officer Hopps. And your foot." Trembling, Judy slid her bare rabbit foot into the cool, smooth interior. Velvet guided her ankle strap into place, buckling it snugly. The sensation was terrifyingly alien – her foot tilted unnaturally high, the sole resting precariously on a narrow spike, while the delicate gold strap bit firmly into her ankle fur. Instinctively, Judy tried to flatten her foot against the chrome floor, yearning for the familiar ground, but the cruel steepness of the heel forced her onto her toes. Velvet secured the other shoe. Judy wobbled violently, clutching the armrests.

"Now," Velvet commanded, her voice soft as brushed silk, "stand." Judy pushed upward. The world tilted sharply. Her knees buckled momentarily before locking stiffly. Her center of gravity shifted alarmingly forward, throwing her weight onto the balls of her feet. The thin straps dug into her ankles, and the unforgiving slope of the arch strained the tendons in her calves. She inhaled sharply. Velvet hummed satisfaction. "There. Anchored sunbeams beneath determined paws. Now brace." Cool chrome fingers slid gently around Judy's slim waist. Velvet leaned impossibly close to the screen, her pixelated gaze softening. "Observe," she murmured, her voice dropping to a reverent whisper. A compartment slid open right beneath Judy’s chin. Inside, resting on rich black velvet, lay a diamond necklace – not mere stones, but captured starlight: dozens of impossibly sharp facets throwing fractured light across Judy’s gray fur. Each diamond was perfectly cut, cold and heavy. Velvet lifted it with infinite care. "Diamonds," she breathed, their icy sparkle reflected in her screen-eyes. "Forged from pressure and time… solely to crown *your* defiant throat." The heavy chain settled coolly against the sensitive fur at Judy’s nape, the clasp securing high and tight. The pendant, shaped like a stylized teardrop, settled heavily just above the swell of her corseted chest, its weight a constant, anchoring pressure against her sternum. Each shift sent a cascade of dazzling points moving across her silk-clad body. Judy held her breath, the cold stones pressing into her fur.

"Next," Velvet continued, withdrawing her fingers from Judy's waist, leaving her trembling on her heels. Another compartment hissed open to the side. Inside, nestled like coiled serpents, lay two golden ink cuff bracelets. Heavy, thick bands, their surfaces etched with intricate, swirling filigree reminiscent of thorny vines. Velvet picked one up, the metal gleaming with inner fire. "Molten defiance," she murmured, holding open the wide cuff. "Solidified solely to guard *your* relentless pulse." Judy extended a trembling, gloved paw. The inside of the cuff felt smooth and impossibly cool against the ink leather. Velvet secured the heavy gold band tightly around her wrist, the mechanism clicking shut with finality, its intricate metalwork pressing firmly against her fur underneath. The weight was substantial, a solid counterpoint to the delicate glove. She repeated the process on the other wrist. Judy stared at the golden shackles framing her ink-leather paws, feeling paradoxically weighted and vulnerable. Her paws felt constrained, a strange counterpoint to the elevation of her heels.

Velvet leaned back slightly. Her screen-eyes, gleaming lavender, scanned Judy's face intently. "Now… the window to the ember," she uttered softly. A panel swiveled open directly within Judy’s line of sight, revealing an array of tiny pots holding rich pigments. Velvet retrieved a slender brush, its bristles impossibly fine. She dipped it into dark blue ink eyeshadow – a shade deeper than midnight, almost indigo. "Nightfall," she breathed, bringing the brush close to Judy’s wide, terrified violet eye. "Swirled solely to frame *your* luminous storm." The soft bristles, cool against her eyelid fur, traced her lash line with agonizing precision. Velvet layered the colour, building depth towards the outer corner, the pigment blending seamlessly as if stained onto her fur. Judy blinked rapidly, the unfamiliar weight and slight tackiness of the makeup making her eyes feel heavy-lidded, mysterious. Velvet worked on the other eye, pulling Judy’s head gently toward the screen. The dark blue intensified the purple of her irises, making them appear larger, deeper pools. Velvet sighed softly. "Magnificent."

Reaching for another tool – a tiny wand tipped with dense black bristles – Velvet dipped it into potent black ink mascara. "Midnight silk," she murmured, holding Judy's chin steady. "Woven solely to veil *your* fierce gaze." The cool wand brushed against her lashes, coating each tiny hair in thick, wet ink. Judy blinked reflexively, leaving a tiny smudge Velvet swiftly corrected with the edge of her gloved fingertip, the chrome cool against her fur. The mascara weighed her lashes down, making them feel longer, thicker, casting subtle shadows beneath her eyes. Each blink felt slower, heavier, amplifying the intensity Velvet's artistry created. Velvet hummed approval, tilting Judy's face slightly. "Preparation."

Finally, Velvet selected another brush and dipped it into a pot holding drak red ink lipstick – a shade so deep it resembled old blood, almost black in the chrome light, yet shimmering with microscopic ruby particles. "Heartblood," she breathed, her voice thick, resonant. The sharp scent of iron and crushed berries washed over Judy. "Tasted solely to stain *your* defiant truth." Velvet’s chrome fingers tilted Judy’s chin upward firmly. Her muzzle muscles tightened instinctively, pulling her lips taut against her teeth. The cool, slick bristles traced the delicate outer curve of Judy's upper lip with agonizing precision. She felt her lips part involuntarily – a tiny gasp escaping – allowing Velvet to fill in the plush swell beneath. Every stroke was deliberate, pressurized, coating the sensitive furred skin with a slick, heavy layer that felt simultaneously icy and burning.

Velvet stepped back momentarily, her screen-eyes scanning Judy’s face. Her gaze lingered on the majestic, drooping arcs of the rabbit’s signature ears. Slowly, deliberately, she retrieved another tool – a wide comb forged from dull chrome. Its teeth looked unnervingly sharp. "Velvet," Velvet murmured, almost to herself, the word an incantation. Her free hand, impossibly gentle, smoothed the sensitive fur along Judy’s left ear base. Judy’s ear twitched violently against the chrome restraint holding her neck. Velvet applied infinitesimal pressure. "Silken banners," she breathed, bringing the comb down the smooth gray fur of Judy's left ear, starting just below the black ink tip. Each stroke was slow, deep, parting the fur with chilling precision. The chrome teeth scraped *ever so slightly* against the delicate skin beneath, sending electric prickles up Judy’s spine. Velvet worked meticulously, flattening the ear’s natural curve, straightening its majestic arc until it lay sleek and heavy against Judy’s slender neck and shoulder blade, its black tip brushing the dark blue silk covering the subtle swell of her corseted back. Cold air whispered against the newly exposed fur behind her head. Velvet’s fingers then shifted, navigating the intricate angles of Judy's skull. She lifted the impossibly soft, pink inner portion of Judy’s right ear. With the same unnerving gentleness and pressure, she smoothed the fur downwards towards the ink-black tip. The comb dragged, lifting then releasing tufts. Velvet deliberately draped the heavy limb *over* Judy’s right eye – a curtain of gray fur and pink silk. The dense weight settled against her brow bone, coarse fur ticking her eyelashes, partially obscuring the elaborate "Nightfall" eye makeup. The world narrowed instantly; Judy could see only fragmented chrome and Velvet's lavender screen through a haze of gray.

Velvet leaned close again. Her screen hummed softly, bathing Judy’s face in lavender light. Judy could smell flowers and sterile metal. Velvet produced a vial – impossibly small, crafted from dark glass. She unstoppered it. The scent exploded – cloying jasmine wrapped around bitter myrrh, underscored by something metallic and ancient, like ink drying deep inside forgotten tombs. "Echo," Velvet whispered, the word vibrating the air. She dipped the tip of a single chrome finger into the viscous liquid. Judy instinctively held her breath, her fur prickling. Velvet’s touch was feather-light, tracing a chilling path: first, a cold droplet behind each trembling jaw hinge; then a line down the pulse hammering in Judy’s throat, skimming the cold diamond; finally, small, icy circles dabbed onto the sensitive fur at the inside bend of each elbow, just above the obsidian glove cuff. The perfume didn't just smell; it seeped into her fur and the silk beneath, clinging cold and potent, wrapping her in an invisible shroud of alien seduction that mingled nauseatingly with her own rising panic-scent.

Velvet’s chrome face filled Judy’s obscured vision. Her screen-eyes locked onto Judy’s visible left eye. The complex contours of Velvet's simulated lips seemed to soften impossibly, a pixelated approximation of tenderness. She leaned forward, closing the distance. Judy froze, unable to pull back against the restraints. Velvet’s lips met hers – cold, impossibly smooth glass against the pliant softness of fur and the slickness of "Heartblood." There was no warmth, only an electric chill spreading from the point of contact. The kiss deepened, Velvet’s head tilting – a calculated, consuming pressure. Judy felt a jolt deep in her core, a confusing clash of violation and the terrifying strangeness of the silk and perfume and makeup. As Velvet pulled back slightly, Judy instinctively pushed her weight back against the chrome chair. Its mechanism whirred softly, smoothly pulling Judy backwards. Velvet remained poised, her form seemingly hinging open wider at the center to accommodate the chair’s retreat. The suction between their lips broke with a startlingly loud, liquid *pop* – audible, obscene in the sterile silence. Judy gasped, a rush of cold air hitting her wet lips. Velvet remained utterly motionless as the chair slid a full yard away. Not a single drop of "Heartblood" smudged; not a flake of "Nightfall" shifted. Velvet’s screen-eyes held Judy’s wide, horrified gaze. A single pixel winked – a spark of violet light – then vanished. Her simulated lips curved into a serene, enigmatic Mona Lisa smile. Slowly, silently, her hinged form began to fold closed, bringing her halves together with a faint pneumatic hiss, her lavender gaze never leaving Judy’s.

Jessica leaned against the edge of her vanity, a crimson silhouette against the plush backdrop of her boudoir. She shifted her weight onto one impossibly curvy hip, a cascade of red silk whispering against itself. Her heavy-lidded green eyes swept the seated rabbit from the perilous arc of the golden heels to the pressure-cold diamond resting just above Judy’s lace-covered sternum. "Well," Jessica breathed, her voice a low, honeyed murmur that seemed to resonate deep in Judy’s chest. "Look at you, Ms Hopps." A slow, genuine smile spread across Jessica’s impossibly full lips. "Absolutely... symphonic." Her gaze lingered on Judy's face, softened by "Nightfall" and framed by the deliberate drape of one ear. "Gorgeous. Just as I knew you'd be. Struck me the moment you stood at my door – all fierce eyes and tangled fur and righteous indignation." She chuckled softly, a sound like velvet rubbed against velvet. "There was a storm beneath that uniform. Velvet just... coaxed it out. Polished the chaos."

Judy fidgeted, the golden bracelet digging into her wrist fur beneath the obsidian glove as she gripped the chair arms. The precarious height of the heels made her feel ludicrously tilted, like she was perpetually about to tumble forward. The heavy perfume Velvet applied – "Echo" – clung coldly to her skin and fur, mingling with her rising panic-scent. She avoided Jessica’s penetrating gaze. "Gorgeous?" Judy’s voice came out thin and strained, muffled slightly by the ear draped across her mouth. She twitched her nose nervously beneath its layer of "Heartblood," feeling the unfamiliar tackiness. "Jessica, please. I look... absurd. Like a birthday cake that’s been kicked across a busy street. All glitter and... *angles*. It’s ridiculous. Utterly." Her free ear flicked forward, then tried to flatten against her skull, only succeeding in brushing the heavy diamond necklace. "A rabbit playing dress-up. Silly." The word tasted bitter. Fantastically impractical. Tactically unsound.

"Silly? Hardly." Jessica pushed off the vanity with effortless grace, the slit in her dress revealing a flash of sheer stocking and sculpted leg as she moved. Her stiletto heels clicked purposefully on the polished floorboards. She stopped directly before Judy, the scent of her own perfume – warmer, richer roses than Velvet's cold jasmine – momentarily cutting through the "Echo". Her expression softened, a hint of genuine warmth softening its usual practiced composure. One hand, encased in elegant purple opera glove, reached out, finger extended. Not touching Judy yet. "Look." Slowly, deliberately, Jessica rotated the armchair. The casters groaned softly on the wooden floor. Judy instinctively braced her high-heeled feet against the rug, the steep arch straining her calf tendons. The large, gilt-framed mirror came into view.

Silence. A choked gasp escaped Judy’s "Heartblood"-treated lips. Her wide, mascara-heavy violet eyes grew impossibly wider. Wider. They bulged, straining against their sockets. Then, with a faint *pop* sound, they shot clean out of Judy’s head, propelled by sheer, unadulterated shock. Suspended on elastic-like stalks, eyes spinning wildly, they hovered inches before her muzzle for a frozen heartbeat, reflecting the impossible image in the mirror: a sleek, dangerous creature wrapped in silk and ink-dark shadows, armored in diamonds and defiance, one ear a heavy curtain of mystery, the other pinned into sleek submission – a stark, elegant silhouette where her familiar, hopeful, tousled self had been. Velvet hadn't just dressed her; she'd forged a wholly unexpected weapon. The reflection stared back, utterly alien, undeniably potent. The eyes snapped back into her head with an audible *sproing*, leaving Judy blinking furiously, her jaw slack. She was utterly, profoundly silent.

Jessica’s low chuckle was velvet scraped over chrome. "Bit of a shock, hm?" Her gloved hand, warm despite the fabric, gently touched Judy’s bare shoulder. "Don’t panic, Carrots. The first time my ex saw me out of ink-stained overalls, he choked on a carrot top for five minutes. Solidified." Judy flinched slightly at the nickname, unused to hearing it without Nick’s sarcasm laced beneath. The warmth of Jessica’s touch was startlingly solid against the lingering chill of Velvet’s perfume clinging to her fur beneath the glove. Jessica leaned closer, her scent – deep roses and something faintly spicy like sandalwood – momentarily battling "Echo". "That," she murmured, her gaze locked with Judy's watery, shocked reflection, "isn't just a bunny playing dress-up. That's *potential*. Seen the tabloids? Seen what they actually write about *me* beyond the ink? About you?" Her voice dropped lower, conspiratorial, yet carrying razor-sharp edges. "‘Fatale.’ ‘Predator.’ ‘Man-Eater.’ ‘Soft Little Bunny.’ ‘Tender Morsel.’ ‘Hopelessly Naive.’ They draw their own cartoons. Tonight, Ms. Hopps," her grip tightened reassuringly, "we fight cartoons *with* cartoons. On *our* terms. Confidence is your Kevlar. Grace," she paused, her green eyes gleaming with fierce amusement, "is your grenade launcher. Now, soldier. Stand."

The command snapped Judy back. Her ears instinctively flattened against her skull – or tried to, hindered by the pinned left ear and the floppy drape of the right. She pushed herself forward against the chair’s plush resistance, scrambling to find purchase on the ludicrously high golden heels. The steep arches protested violently. Pain lanced up her calves, a sharp counterpoint to the wobble in her ankles, as if the floor itself tilted. She pitched forward with an undignified squeak, paws flailing instinctively before jerking back against the chair arm. The diamond necklace swung coldly against her corseted sternum. "Blasted heels!" Judy hissed, cheeks flushing beneath her fur and the heavy foundation. Mortification warred with frustration. She’d faced down weasel guns and near-death by icing, yet these damned shoes were defeating her.

Jessica laughed again, the sound rich and surprisingly warm. "Down, rabbit. From scratch." With effortless elegance, she swept forward. Her own crimson stilettos, needle-thin, seemed rooted extensions of her legs. She bent slightly, the slit in her dress whispering open to reveal sculpted calf and ankle muscles flexing with impossible control. Her gloved hands gripped Judy’s obsidian-clad wrists, surprisingly strong. "Up. Off the chair. Properly this time." Judy hesitated, her gaze fixed on the terrifying distance to the floor. Jessica squeezed gently. "*Trust me*. Feet flat on the rug." Heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped moth,

Judy pushed off. This time the descent was controlled but jarring. The impact vibrated up her legs, making her knees buckle slightly. She wobbled precariously, clinging to Jessica's grip as if drowning. The rough texture of the expensive rug pressed reassuringly against the undersides of her rabbit feet through the thin soles of the heels, a faint anchor.

Jessica’s grip didn’t waver. Her gaze was steady, assessing. "Ground yourself. Feel it. Then," she released one wrist, stepping back a single, graceful pace, her hip angled outward deliberately, "watch." She inhaled deeply, the red silk over her formidable cleavage tightening. "Heels aren't for *walking*," Jessica breathed, her voice dropping into a low, husky register that seemed to resonate in Judy’s bones. Her spine arched like a drawn bow, pressing her chest forward, emphasizing the proud swell above the dress's neckline. Her pelvis tilted subtly forward, the line of her hip accentuated impossibly. One perfectly poised crimson heel lifted, then settled deliberately ahead. Not a step. A *placement*. The movement initiated deep within her core, rippling upward through her torso – shoulders effortlessly level, head held regally high – then cascaded down through her hips. They didn't just shift; they *swayed* – a slow, deliberate, mesmerizing oscillation, like the pendulum of a hypnotist's watch. Three deliberate placements later, she pivoted smoothly on one stiletto, a fluid pirouette showcasing the impossible physics-defying grace. As she turned, the motion transferred through her body, causing her magnificent breasts to lift and descend in a perfectly timed, mesmerizingly gentle bounce beneath the taut red silk – a ripple propagating through her form, subtle yet undeniable. She stopped facing Judy, a faint sheen of exertion or awareness on her brow. "See?"

"S-see?" Judy echoed, her voice thin and tinny against Jessica’s resonant command. She swallowed, the diamond necklace cold against her tightening throat. She could *feel* the impossible posture Jessica demanded – the hollow ache starting low in her belly as she attempted the pelvic tilt, the unfamiliar strain across her shoulders to pull them back, the sharp pinch between her shoulder blades as she arched her spine. Tentatively, she lifted one trembling golden-heeled paw. *Thunk*. The landing was jarring, clumsy. She shifted her weight, her hips jerking awkwardly. Her spine wobbled; her shoulders slumped. Another step. *Thump*. Her untrained core muscles screamed. She stumbled, Jessica’s hand darting out to steady her elbow before she pitched forward. Focusing intensely, Judy gritted her teeth beneath the "Heartblood" slickness. She forced her spine straighter, pushed her chest out with determined effort, feeling the delicate silk of her dress strain slightly across her modest bosom, and concentrated on initiating the step with a deliberate sway of her hips. The motion, forced and uncoordinated, nevertheless traveled upward through her slight frame. It triggered a corresponding, tiny tremor – a faint, delicate bounce – beneath the glittering fabric crossing her own small, defined breasts. It felt alien, vulnerable… and undeniably present. Her ears flushed violet beneath the fur.

"Better," Jessica murmured, her critical gaze softening a fraction. "Now the pivot. Feel it *here*." Her gloved hand pressed flat against Judy’s corseted midriff. Energy coiled beneath the silk and boning. "Power initiates *here*. Push off smoothly, eyes locked ahead. Your carriage is your crown."

Judy sucked in a breath, inhaling Jessica’s roses mixed with her own rising lavender panic. She visualized initiating the turn deep within her core. *Push*. Her golden heel grated softly on the rug as she twisted her hips sharply, attempting grace. Her upper body lagged; her head snapped sideways reflexively. For one dizzying second, she saw the world tilt violently before Jessica’s firm grip hauled her back to center. Stars briefly danced before Judy’s eyes.

"Smooth, Carrots, smooth," Jessica chided gently. "Don't jerk. Guide it. You’re flowing ink, not rigid anatomy." She positioned herself again. "Watch." Jessica executed the pivot once more – fluid, seamless. As she completed the turn, her upper body followed smoothly, her magnificent bust lifting and falling in that captivating, rhythmic bounce. "See the transfer? Like breath," she breathed.

"Okay… Okay," Judy whispered, marshalling her fragmented concentration. She centered her weight, forced her shoulders down, her head high. She felt the corset digging into her ribs as she engaged her core muscles, gathering energy low in her belly. *Initiate here*. Slowly, deliberately, she pushed off the heel. Her hips swiveled smoothly this time, generating a wave of motion that traveled up her spine. Her shoulders moved fluidly with the turn, keeping her head steady. Her gaze remained locked ahead on her own reflection – sharp eyes framed by "Nightfall," the curve of her jaw accentuated by the draped ear. The motion transferred upward… triggering a perceptible lift and gentle descent beneath the blue silk across her chest. It wasn't Jessica’s powerful swell; it was the subtle, defined bounce of taut muscle beneath soft fur and silk. Her reflection held steady, poised. Pride flickered in her violet eyes. She didn't stumble.

"Excellent!" Jessica purred, genuine warmth infusing her tone. She gestured towards the full-length mirror reflecting the crimson boudoir. "Now test the weapon. Camera flash." Her pose shifted instantaneously. One crimson stiletto slid slightly forward, knee subtly bent. Her hip angled sharply outward, thrusting her already prominent curves into stark silhouette. Her upper body arched backwards impossibly – spine curving deep, shoulders drawn back – pressing her formidable cleavage towards an unseen lens. One glove-clad hand drifted languidly to her hip; the other lifted gracefully near her throat, fingers curled like petals. Her chin dipped fractionally, heavy-lidded eyes fixing on Judy’s reflection with smoldering intensity. Power radiated from the pose, potent and utterly intimidating. "This," Jessica murmured, her voice dropping to a smoky register resonating low in Judy’s chest, "silences shouting heads. Makes lenses melt. Remember this for the Oscars." A ghost of a smirk touched her lips. "Every flash is a battlefield. They *will* shoot."

Judy swallowed hard. The dense perfume and fading panic created a strange haze. *Copy Jessica. Just copy.* She ignored the flutter high in her belly, the unfamiliar pull of the boning against her ribs. Mimicking Jessica’s stance felt like assembling an alien machine. She shoved her golden heel forward sharply, pain biting her ankle tendon as she over-angled her hip. She threw her spine backwards with a jerky motion – *too far!* Her head snapped back, ears lifting instinctively towards the ceiling plaster as a sharp twinge shot between her shoulder blades. Her paws flew up defensively – one slamming onto her corseted hipbone so hard she winced, the other hovering stiffly near her throat. Her jaw clenched beneath "Heartblood," eyes wide and startled violet pools fixed unseeing on the chandelier. She wobbled violently, the precarious arch in her golden heels screaming danger. "L-like this?" The words tumbled out thin and strained. Mortification burned beneath her fur hotter than stage lights. She looked less like Jessica’s poised predator and more like a startled rabbit frozen by headlights, caught mid-fall.

Jessica’s low laugh wasn’t mocking; it was rich, warm, and edged with understanding. "Close, Carrots. *Very* close." Her purple-gloved hands moved like silk smoke – one gently pressed between Judy’s shoulder blades, easing the spine-wrenching arch. "Soften the bend here. It's not falling *back*, it's a *lean*." The other hand nudged Judy’s defensive paw near her throat downwards, tracing fingertips across the collarbone beneath the diamond necklace until Judy’s hand rested lightly against her own sternum. "Not guarding. Lingering." Then, Jessica’s thumb pressed firmly against the frantic thrumming pulse point beneath Judy’s jaw, tilting her chin down fractionally instead of up. Her touch lingered, surprisingly grounding, radiating warmth through the glove. "And *here*. Eyes lock. Not escape. Command." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial murmur, thick as velvet. "You're selling the *promise*, Judy Hopps, not the fear. That shift?" She nodded slightly towards Judy’s reflection – the softening spine, the lowered chin, the hand resting subtly over her own heartbeat. "That’s the difference between ‘prey spotted’ and ‘predator poised.’" Her green eyes glinted knowingly. "Far better than you know. Trust the instinct. It scared a weasel mobster last Tuesday, didn't it?"

Judy blinked slowly, absorbing Jessica’s words, feeling the deliberate corrections settle into her bones. The ache between her shoulder blades receded; the frantic pulse beneath Jessica’s thumb steadied. She inhaled deeply, pulling Jessica’s sandalwood-and-roses scent deep into her lungs. *Command.* She re-positioned her hip slightly, finding a balance point where the angle felt assertive, not exaggerated. She eased the lean in her spine, making it confident, not desperate. Her spine flowed straighter. Her chin lowered deliberately, her gaze shifting from the chandelier to meet her own wide violet eyes in the mirror. The startled panic faded. A spark of fierce determination ignited instead – the same stubborn flame that chased Duke Weaselton into Rodentia. Her paw resting lightly over her sternum didn’t shield; it anchored. Her hips subtly swayed forward a fraction, pressing against the fabric of her gown. She held the pose, the wobble vanishing. The reflection stared back: sharp-eyed beneath "Nightfall," draped ear framing a determined jaw, posture radiating a contained readiness. Confidence bloomed like heat spreading from her core outward. *Not fear.* Promise.

"Good," Jessica breathed, approval warming her smoky tone. She released her grip, stepping back with feline grace. "Now, lesson two: the invitation." She didn't shift her stance dramatically. Instead, her gloved hand lifted slowly, deliberately, fingers uncurling like a flower opening towards dawn. Her wrist arched softly, palm upturned. The gesture was subtle, intimate, drawing the eye inward. Her heavy-lidded gaze remained locked on Judy’s reflection, but softened slightly, the sharpness melting into something warmer, more inviting. A ghost of a smile touched her lips – not wide, but knowing. It wasn’t a leer or a grin; it was an unspoken question, a silent *‘come closer’* radiating from her upturned palm and her softened focus. The curve of her spine seemed less defensive, more receptive. The power of her silhouette remained, but now it hummed with an undercurrent of deliberate accessibility. "See it? Not demand. *Offer*." Her voice was silk against Judy’s fur. "Make them feel chosen. Make them lean *in*."

Heart pounding a steadier rhythm now, Judy mirrored the gesture. Tentatively, she raised her gloved paw, her fingers unfolding stiffly at first. She remembered Jessica’s fluid wrist, the soft arch. Slowly, deliberately, she bent her wrist, letting her paw tilt upwards, palm exposed. Her other paw stayed anchored near her heart. She focused on softening her own gaze, trying to melt the determined intensity she saw reflected into something warmer. It felt alien – this deliberate lowering of defenses. She instinctively wanted to narrow her eyes, stay alert. Instead, she forced the tension from her brow, letting her eyelids lower slightly, mimicking Jessica’s heavy-lidded invitation. A faint, hesitant smile touched her own lips, pulling at the “Heartblood” slickness. She held the pose, feeling vulnerable, exposed… yet strangely powerful. The upturned paw wasn’t begging; it was bait. Her reflection seemed to lean towards an invisible admirer, drawn by her own newfound stillness and that open palm. The air crackled subtly. *Offer.*

Jessica’s green eyes flickered with genuine warmth. "Perfect," she murmured, stepping close again. Her presence was a wave of heat and scent. "Now, the finishing touch: the lingering release." She didn’t abruptly drop her gesture. Smoothly, slowly, her upturned hand drifted downwards. Her fingers didn’t snap shut; they curled inwards gracefully, almost reluctantly, as if releasing something cherished. The movement traced a slow, deliberate arc back towards her hip. Her softened gaze didn’t dart away; it held the invisible recipient’s attention for a breath, two breaths, longer – conveying reluctance at the withdrawal. Only then, subtly, did her focus shift fractionally, breaking the connection with an elegant dismissal that felt more like a promise than an ending. Her lips remained curved in that knowing, private smile. Her posture softened infinitesimally, signaling a graceful departure from the intimate moment she’d created. "Never rush the goodbye," Jessica whispered, her breath warm against Judy’s ear fur. "Make them ache for the return."

Judy absorbed the instruction, watching Jessica’s elegant withdrawal. She took a slow breath, centering herself in her poised stance. She focused on her upturned paw. Then, with deliberate control, she initiated the withdrawal. Her wrist rotated smoothly, guiding her paw downwards. Her fingers curled inward softly, one by one, like petals closing at dusk – not snapping shut, but gathering slowly. She maintained eye contact with her reflection, willing warmth into her violet gaze, holding the imaginary connection. She counted silently: *one… two…* feeling the noticeable pause, the deliberate lingering goodbye. Her fingers finally settled against her hipbone with gentle finality. Only then, slowly, fractionally, did she allow her eyes to shift downwards, breaking the gaze with a soft, downward sweep of her lashes. A sigh escaped her – small, unconscious – as the intimate tension released. She held her posture, radiating quiet satisfaction mixed with a trace of wistfulness. Her fur felt flushed beneath the silk and powder; her heart thrummed steadily, a low drumbeat echoing Jessica’s silent command. *Make them ache.* The lesson resonated deep within her core, settling alongside her badge and her idealism. This weapon felt different. Sharper. Softer. More dangerous. She looked ready.

Jessica’s approval shimmered subtly beside her, a silent nod more potent than applause. Then, her voice cut the charged silence, smoky steel beneath velvet. "Enough theory, Carrots. Field test." She gestured imperiously toward the colossal mirror dominating the crimson boudoir. "Walk to it. *Now*. Don't stride like chasing a wanted criminal. Not quick hops. *Walk*. Full stride. Long rolling steps." She paused, letting the command sink in. Her eyes narrowed slightly, predatory glint intensifying. "And while you walk?" The corners of her lips curved. "Sway those hips. Like metronomes. Feel the power coil? Now unleash it." Her gaze hardened, locking onto Judy’s reflection. "Loud. Clear. Right at your own eyes." She snapped her gloved fingers sharply. "Projection, Rabbit. Pour honey into the words. First line: 'I'm. A. Beautiful. Girl.'" She enunciated each word, a sensual punch. "Again: 'I'm. A. Hot. Girl.'" Her voice dipped lower, thick as sin. "Last one: 'I'm. A. Gorgeous. Girl.'" A slow, deliberate inhale. "*Three times*. Make *you* believe it." Her chin lifted. "Make *me* feel it. Enthusiasm isn't squeaking, Hopps. It's conviction radiating heatwaves." She folded her arms beneath her formidable curves, the sequins on her dress catching the light like predatory eyes. "Go."

Scoffing internally at the sheer ridiculousness – fighting crime didn’t involve yelling compliments at mirrors – Judy nonetheless centered herself. She felt the unfamiliar slide of silk against her thighs, the pinching grip of the corset emphasizing each tiny movement. She planted her golden heel firmly. Then, *push*. Her hip swung forward with deliberate exaggeration. Her spine followed, a ripple traveling upwards. The motion felt vast, consuming. The slide of her bare rabbit foot pads inside of the heels against the plush rug was utterly silent yet deafeningly loud in her awareness. Her hips rolled deliberately, powerfully, echoes of Jessica’s devastating pivot amplified for travel. Each rolling step reverberated through her frame – the slight bounce beneath her blue silk bodice, the counter-sway of her slender tear-drop tail above her corset-defined rear. Her ears remained rigidly disciplined – one draped forward, the other sleek behind her back. Her eyes stayed locked fiercely forward. The vibrant reflection grew larger, clearer: the draped ear, the determined jaw set beneath "Heartblood," the violet eyes burning with flustered resolve. The dense scent of Jessica’s roses mingled with her own lavender exertion. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic counter-rhythm to the deliberate sway.

Stopping precisely before the mirror, Judy inhaled deeply, the corset straining like armor. She saw herself – small, poised, absurdly elegant, fur slightly mussed, eyes wide and wildly violet. *Go*. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin defiantly. Her voice emerged, surprisingly strong but raw-edged, slicing through the perfume-thick air: "I'm..." A beat. Firming her jaw. "*A beautiful girl!*" The declaration felt alien, sharp. She felt it vibrate in her throat. Her own reflection startled her – the intensity blazing back. Instinctively, her gaze didn't waver, locking onto those defiant violet pools. Her chest rose sharply with her next breath. This time, pouring intent into the words, pushing past the awkwardness: "*I'm A HOT GIRL!*" Louder, hotter, the heat blooming under her fur undeniable now, a flush creeping up her neck. Her tail flicked once, sharply. Her hips rolled again, unconsciously, grounding her. She leaned infinitesimally towards her own reflection, the diamond necklace cool against her sternum. "*AND I'M...!*" A final surge, pure stubborn defiance mixed with burgeoning realization. She poured every ounce of fierce optimism she possessed into the words, commanding the space: "*...A GORGEOUS GIRL!*" The final syllable hung, vibrating in the sudden silence. Her chest heaved. Her ears felt scorching hot beneath the fur. Her eyes, locked onto her own, reflected a tumultuous mix of disbelief, defiance, and a terrifying, exhilarating spark of burgeoning ownership. The silence stretched, thick with the perfume and Jessica’s unseen scrutiny.

Jessica’s voice cut the charged air, low and smoky, unreadable. "Again." No encouragement, no critique. Just the command.

Judy swallowed, the movement tight against the corset. She felt the lingering tremor in her thighs. She forced herself to inhale slowly, pulling Jessica’s scent deep, focusing on the poised silhouette in the mirror. The defiance flared again, brighter. *Fine.* Her hips rolled back, then forward, a deliberate pendulum swing initiating her second sequence. "*I'm a beautiful girl.*" Stronger this time, conviction weaving into the sound, less shout, more declaration. The blush deepened, traveling down her spine. "*I'm a HOT girl.*" The word ‘hot’ ignited like a spark in the dry brush of her nerves; she felt it radiate outward, pooling low in her belly, tightening muscles beneath silk. Her gaze didn’t waver, fierce violet meeting violet. "*I AM... A GORGEOUS GIRL!*" The declaration exploded, resonant, filling the room. Her paw clenched at her side. Her heart hammered against her ribs – a frantic drum against the corset’s cage – but the rhythm felt powerful now, propelling. Her reflection stared back, ears rigid, jaw set, a portrait of improbable, undeniable allure forged in stubbornness. A bead of sweat traced a path beneath her fur, hidden by powder. The silence returned, heavier, expectant.

"Louder." Jessica’s command was a whip crack, slicing through Judy’s burgeoning confidence. "Enthusiasm isn't timid, Rabbit. It roars."

Judy flinched inwardly, the criticism a sharp sting. She closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, seeking that core of stubborn fire that chased criminals through Toontown alleys. *Command.* She snapped her gaze open, locking onto the mirror. She planted her golden heels wider, feeling the bite of the straps. Her hips rolled back, deeper, then surged forward – a bold, unmistakable arc. She threw her shoulders back, the corset creaking softly. "*I'M!*" The opening syllable detonated, startlingly loud. "*A BEAUTIFUL GIRL!*" Pure volume, tinged with frustration, vibrating the air. Then, leaning into the heat coiling inside her, letting it fuel her voice, pushing beyond declaration into possession: "*I'M A HOT GIRL!*" The words felt molten, scorching her throat. Her breath hitched. Her violet eyes blazed, not with defiance alone, but with a raw, terrifying acknowledgement of the heat Jessica demanded. The counter-sway of her hips was pronounced, powerful. "*AND I AM A GORGEOUS GIRL!*" The final roar echoed off the crimson walls, raw, triumphant, defiantly loud. Her chest heaved violently. Her lips, slick with "Heartblood," parted in panting breaths. Her reflection pulsed with exertion, fur ruffled, eyes wide and blazing, radiating a chaotic, undeniable magnetism born of sheer force of will.

The heavy silence that followed was broken only by Judy's ragged breathing. She stared at her flushed, fierce reflection, the echo of her own roar ringing in her ears. Jessica remained unmoving behind her, a statuesque silhouette radiating intense scrutiny. Judy felt the heat radiating from her own skin beneath the silk and powder, pooling beneath the diamond necklace and settling low in her belly – a visceral, unfamiliar thrumming. Her tail twitched again, a sharp, involuntary flick against the blue silk. The corset felt simultaneously constricting and anchoring, each breath a conscious effort amplified by the pounding heart trapped beneath it. Her paws tingled inside the evening gloves. The scent of roses and exertion hung thick, almost suffocating. She held her pose, hips subtly angled, chin lifted in challenge towards her own mirror image, waiting for the verdict – or the next impossible command – the simmering heat of Jessica’s presence a palpable pressure against her back. The fierce blush that had started on her neck now painted her entire face beneath the gray fur, a scorching testament to the raw effort poured into those declarations. Muscle trembled faintly in her thighs, the aftermath of the deliberate, forceful undulations. The air crackled, dense with unspoken tension and the lingering vibration of Judy’s shouted truths.

Suddenly, Jessica’s gaze flickered past Judy’s reflection towards the ornate, ruby-red phone nestled on a low lacquered table. Its shrill ring sliced through the charged atmosphere like a blade. Jessica moved with languid grace, crossing the plush carpet in three long strides, her red sequins catching the light in predatory sparks. She lifted the receiver with her elegant hand. Her voice, when it came, was low honey poured over velvet, completely devoid of the previous sharpness. "Yes?... Ah, splendid. Five minutes." She listened for a beat, her heavy-lidded eyes drifting back to Judy’s reflection in the mirror. "Tell Frankie to keep it idling… the humidity tonight is simply *murderous* on my lacquer." A soft chuckle escaped her painted lips – a sound that felt incongruously light after the intensity of the past hour.

Judy caught the soft murmur from the receiver: *"The limo's ready, Ms. Rabbit."* Jessica replaced the receiver with a soft click, the sound final and decisive. Her expression shifted back to the cool, assessing gaze Judy was learning to dread – and crave. "Our chariot awaits, Carrots. Time to see if your newfound roar translates beyond the boudoir." Her eyes narrowed slightly, a predatory gleam returning. "Out there, projection is survival." The promise – or threat – hung unspoken.

Jessica didn’t move towards the door immediately. Instead, she turned fully towards Judy, a slow, deliberate pivot that emphasized every devastating curve. Her gloved hand drifted towards the astonishing valley of her own sequined cleavage. Judy watched, transfixed, as Jessica’s fingers dipped beneath the sweetheart neckline, her expression utterly serene, almost bored. There was a soft *snick*, like a tiny spring snapping. Jessica withdrew her hand slowly, deliberately not looking down into her cleavage. A faint, metallic glint winked deep within the shadowed recesses, nestled perilously close to smooth peach-toned skin. "Can't be too careful downtown, darling," Jessica murmured, her voice a smoky whisper. "Especially with the… *enthusiastic* fauna lurking near the Studio gates after hours." She smoothed her glove down her hip, her gaze drifting meaningfully towards Judy. "Eyes and hands have a terrible habit of wandering where they aren't invited." Her implication was clear, delivered with a chilling nonchalance. The bear trap was set, a lethal little joke loaded into the epicenter of her allure.

With a soft *click* Velvet, the towering chrome-and-plush toon dressing machine, opened up behind Judy. Velvet hummed softly, vibrating the floorboards beneath Judy’s golden heels. One polished brass arm extended smoothly, unfolding like an elegant crane, depositing Judy’s familiar blue police uniform onto the plush rug directly at her feet. The scent of expensive laundromat detergent and gun oil cut sharply through Jessica’s lingering roses. Velvet’s digital eyes blinked twice, emitting a cheerful "*Ding!*" before folding its limbs neatly and closing back up with another soft *click*, leaving Judy blinking at the sudden, mundane intrusion amidst the crimson luxury.

Judy inhaled sharply, the corset biting into her ribs. She knelt, the silk of her dress whispering against her thighs as her paws closed around the cool leather of her holster and the familiar grip of her miniature Toon Cop revolver. The weight felt grounding—solid reality after Jessica’s charged theatrics. Her violet eyes flicked towards her own reflection in the mirror: the defiant jawline dusted with powder, the sequined bodice dipping into a modest but undeniable V. Her paws trembled slightly as she unclipped the holster. Jessica’s predatory gaze felt heavy on her back. *A gun…in her cleavage?* The sheer absurdity clashed violently with the LAPD handbook screaming in her mind. Yet the heat of Jessica’s trap seemed to scorch the air nearby. A flush crept up Judy’s neck beneath her fur as she slid the small, cold metal barrel of the revolver—carefully angled safety-first—into the snug confines of her newly formed cleavage. The smooth metal pressed against the soft swell, nestled securely above the corset’s edge. It felt alien, illicit… and strangely powerful. Her heartbeat hammered against the steel, a frantic drumbeat trapped between silk and sternum.

"Don't clutch," Jessica murmured, her voice low honey edged with steel. She glided towards the door, her sequined hips rolling in a hypnotic rhythm that seemed both effortless and intentional. Her G-cup breasts bounced subtly with each poised step—a mesmerizing tide beneath red silk. Judy watched, then forced her own hips into motion, mimicking Jessica’s deliberate sway. Her small breasts shifted beneath the blue sequined fabric—a light, unfamiliar bounce that sent a jolt of startled awareness through her. Her tail flicked sharply. Each step felt amplified: the slide of her heeled feet against the plush carpet, the soft pressure of silk against fur, the disconcerting warmth of the hidden gun nestled snugly against her skin. The scent of Jessica’s roses mingled sharply with the faint tang of gun oil rising from her own bodice. Her ears remained rigidly disciplined—one draped forward, the other sleek behind her back—but her eyes locked fiercely onto Jessica’s retreating silhouette. The door swung open silently, flooding the perfumed gloom with harsh hallway light.

Outside, leaning casually against the gleaming chrome flank of a stretch limousine, stood Frankie. The driver surveyed them with coolly appraising green eyes beneath high-arched brows. Her red ponytail bobbed sharply as she pushed off the car, her peach-ink skin flushed faintly beneath the boulevard lights. Her black ink dress hugged every curve—the proud swell of her big C-cup breasts, the cinch of her slim waist, the dramatic flare of curvy hips leading down to shapely legs ending in sharp black heels. She stood a good three feet taller than Judy, though noticeably a few inches shorter than Jessica's statuesque frame. A knowing smirk played on her full, red-lipsticked lips. "Took your sweet time, Ms. Rabbit," Frankie drawled, her gaze sliding pointedly over Judy’s flushed face and slightly mussed fur. "Was the little rabbit giving you trouble?" She chuckled softly, the sound low and smoky.

Jessica descended the short flight of stairs with liquid grace, ignoring the comment. The humid night air instantly curled the loose tendrils of her red hair framing her face. She paused near Frankie, her presence overshadowing the shorter driver. "Frankie," Jessica acknowledged simply, her voice betraying nothing, though Judy caught the driver’s posture subtly straightening. Then Jessica tilted her head, her heavy-lidded gaze sliding back to Judy, who stood frozen on the top step, acutely aware of the gun’s weight against her chest and the unsettling bounce beneath her silk bodice. "Don’t dawdle, Carrots," Jessica purred, a hint of that predatory gleam returning. "The streets won't admire themselves." Frankie’s smirk widened, her green eyes sharpening as she took in Judy’s hesitant posture—a stark contrast to Jessica’s effortless command. Judy squared her shoulders, forcing her hips into another deliberate roll as she descended. The gun nestled snugly against her cleavage. *Projection is survival,* Jessica’s words echoed. Judy met Frankie’s amused stare head-on, violet eyes blazing defiantly into cool green. Her small breasts bounced lightly with each determined step.

Frankie smoothly pivoted, her black dress shifting like ink over her curvy frame, and pulled open the limousine’s heavy rear door with surprising ease. "Ms. Rabbit," she murmured, the respectful tone slightly undercut by the lingering smirk.

Jessica flowed past her without hesitation. As she slid gracefully into the plush interior’s shadows, she paused, halfway in. Her gloved hand rested briefly on the doorframe. She turned her head towards Frankie, a deliberate, fluid movement. "Your precision tonight is appreciated, Frankie," Jessica said, her voice dropping to that smoky velvet register. Then, with unexpected intimacy, she leaned forward. Judy watched, mesmerized, as Jessica pressed her full, crimson-stained lips against Frankie’s left cheekbone—a soft, deliberate kiss. The driver remained perfectly still, only her eyes widening a fraction. Jessica pulled back, leaving behind a distinct, perfect imprint of her "Heartblood" lipstick—a vibrant crimson smear stark against Frankie’s peach-toned skin. Frankie swallowed, a faint flush rising beneath the ink, but her expression remained professionally neutral. "Always, Ms. Rabbit," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. Judy felt her own pulse spike, the heat rising beneath her fur. The intimacy felt charged, dangerous.

"Judy," Jessica’s voice sliced through the thick night air, sharp and commanding from within the limo’s gloom.

The command snapped Judy out of her fascinated scrutiny. She blinked, her ears instinctively twitching upwards despite their styled position. Hastily, she scurried forward, the clicking of her golden heels suddenly loud on the pavement. She felt Frankie’s cool gaze tracking her movement—assessing, amused. Judy hops inside the limo, the scent of leather and Jessica’s roses enveloping her instantly. Her fluffy gray tail under the dress brushed against the seat as she scrambled onto the cool leather seat beside Jessica. The sudden proximity to Jessica’s imposing presence, radiating warmth and expensive perfume, made Judy stiffen. She tucked her knees together, acutely aware of the sequins of her dress pressing against Jessica’s shimmering red gown, the contrast stark and unnerving. The hidden gun felt heavier, colder against her pounding heart beneath the silk.

"Close the door, Frankie darling," Jessica murmured, her voice a low purr that vibrated in the confined space.

Frankie, the red lipstick kiss mark vivid like fresh ink on her left cheek, gave a curt nod. Her green eyes lingered for a fraction of a second longer on Judy’s wide violet ones, the smirk subtly widening before she smoothly swung the heavy door shut with a solid *thump*. The sudden muffling of outside noise amplified Judy’s own breathing as Frankie strode towards the driver’s door, her hips swaying confidently in the clinging black dress. She opened the driver’s door and slid in, the movement efficient. The engine rumbled to life, a deep vibration humming through the seats into Judy’s curvy little body. Frankie adjusted the rearview mirror, her gaze briefly catching Judy’s reflection before focusing ahead. "Hold tight," she called back, her voice crisp and professional now, the smoky edge gone. The limo glided forward from Jessica’s palatial Toontown mansion, the wrought iron gates swinging open silently.

The chrome-plated behemoth navigated the winding driveways flanked by impossibly lush, bouncing topiary shaped like saxophones and martini glasses. They emerged onto Toontown proper, instantly swallowed by a cacophony of sound and impossible physics. Buildings leaned crazily, their windows blinking like eyes. A mailman flattened himself like a pancake to squeeze through a tiny door slot. "Look out, sweetheart!" Frankie barked, jerking the wheel as a piano dropped from a fifth-story window, landing with a discordant *SPROING!

Judy gasped, gripping the leather seat as her body lurched sideways, the hidden gun shifting uncomfortably against her sternum. She pressed a paw against the door, the cool leather a stark contrast to the humid tension inside. "Stars above, Frankie! Warn a girl!"

Jessica merely chuckled, a low, smoky ripple. "Relax, Officer Hopps. Toontown merely enjoys... theatrics." Her gloved hand rested lightly on Judy’s thigh, a casual weight that sent unexpected warmth radiating through the thin silk of the dress. Outside, a gaggle of singing daffodils chased a terrified watering can down the street. "It’s the equivalent of rush hour," Jessica added, her gaze drifting to Judy’s tensed ears, one draped demurely behind her back, the other frozen mid-twitch. "Though admittedly, more tuneful."

Beyond the chaotic city limits, the countryside unfolded – a surreal patchwork quilt of impossibly green hills dotted with spiraling trees whose leaves chimed like wind chimes. Rolling fields of candy-striped corn waved gently. Frankie expertly guided the limo onto a smoother road, the rhythmic *thump-thump-thump* of crossing animated railroad tracks vibrating up Judy’s spine, making her tail twitch beneath the sequined fabric. She watched Jessica’s reflection in the tinted window – impossibly composed, the crimson kiss mark on Frankie’s cheek a vivid stain in the rearview mirror every time the driver glanced back.

Judy traced the outline of her own concealed revolver through the silk, the metal warming against her fur. The scent of Jessica’s roses battled the faint, metallic tang of gun oil and the sugary aroma drifting in through the climate-controlled vents.

"So," Jessica’s voice sliced through the pastoral hum, sharper than before. She turned fully towards Judy, her green eyes luminous in the dim light. "Your little... *accessory*. You understand the rules of engagement? When to brandish beauty..." Her gloved finger tapped the smooth leather seat between them. "...and when to brandish steel?" The question wasn't casual. It was an examination.

Judy felt the weight of Jessica’s gaze, the predatory stillness returning beneath the surface calm. She swallowed, the corset suddenly constricting her ribs. Outside, the landscape began to subtly darken. A colossal, blackened tunnel entrance yawned ahead, swallowing the candy-colored horizon. Frankie shifted gears smoothly, the engine’s purr deepening as they approached the threshold between worlds. Judy’s paw instinctively tightened over the hidden bulge beneath her bodice. The cool metal imprint burned against her skin.

"Hold onto your ears, Hopps," Frankie called back, her green eyes catching Judy’s in the rearview mirror. The smirk was gone, replaced by focused intensity. "Tunnel’s got personality." The limo plunged into darkness. Instantly, the air thickened with damp grit and the faint ozone tang of dimensional crossing. Judy’s sensitive nose wrinkled. Strange, discordant whispers seemed to skitter along the tunnel walls – half-heard words layered over the rhythmic *whoosh* of tires on slick concrete. Jessica remained a silhouette of crimson serenity beside her, though Judy felt the minute shift of her leg pressing closer in the gloom. The tunnel stretched, disorienting, punctuated only by flickering emergency lights casting brief, monstrous shadows that danced across the plush interior. Judy’s ears flattened against her skull, the one draped forward brushing Jessica’s arm.

Then, *light*. Blinding, harsh, human light. They burst from the tunnel’s mouth like a cork shot from a bottle, the limo emerging onto the human side. It didn't tske long to drive into a wide, rain-slicked boulevard choked with traffic and towering glass monoliths. The sugary scent of Toontown vanished, replaced by exhaust fumes, wet asphalt, and the distant, briny smell of the ocean. Neon signs bled garish colors onto gleaming pavement. Frankie navigated the swell of vehicles with practiced ease, merging seamlessly. "Welcome to the jungle, bunny girl," she murmured, her voice muffled by the partition glass. Outside, sleek luxury sedans and stretched limousines flowed like a metallic river towards the distant constellation of blinding spotlights marking the Oscars venue. Jessica’s purple glove covered hand rested against the cool window glass. "Much quieter," she observed, her tone flat. "They barely bounce."

"Human cars," Frankie stated, accelerating smoothly past a crawling Rolls-Royce. Her knuckles tightened slightly on the wheel. "Solid. Predictable. No singing bumpers trying to harmonize with the radio." Judy peered out. The sleek, angular lines of the surrounding vehicles were jarringly static compared to Toontown’s wobbly jalopies.

Jessica watched a cherry-red Ferrari roar past. "Precisely, Frankie," she murmured, a hint of satisfaction lacing her voice. "They simply *are*. No theatrics. No physics-defying tantrums. They stay… grounded."

Frankie’s grip eased, her knuckles fading from white. Ahead, the Oscar’s venue loomed – a fortress of light piercing the twilight drizzle. Paparazzi clustered like eager moths near the velvet ropes, lenses gleaming. Spotlights swept the sky, catching rain in dazzling streaks. Frankie smoothly angled the black stretch limousine towards the designated drop-off point, its chrome trim reflecting the garish neon chaos. "Alright ladies," Frankie announced, her voice regaining its smoky authority. "Time to paint the town redder than Ms. Rabbit’s lips." She expertly slid the limo into a gap behind a Bentley Continental, the tires whispering on the wet pavement. "Showtime."

The limo’s engine died with a soft sigh. Frankie pushed open her door smoothly, the sleek black fabric of her dress stretching taut across her broad shoulders and narrow waist as she unfolded herself. Instantly, a barrage of camera flashes erupted, strobing against the damp night. Human voices rose in a clamorous wave – "*Look! Jessica Rabbit’s driver!*" "*Who’s the doll in black?*" Frankie ignored them, her expression coolly professional, though Judy saw the faintest lift at the corner of her full lips. She strode purposefully around the gleaming hood, her high heels clicking a sharp counterpoint to the rain’s patter on the limo roof. The flashes intensified, catching the subtle sheen on her peach-toned skin and the impossible curve where her hip met the thigh slit. She reached the rear door. Judy, watching through the tinted glass, felt a strange flutter beneath her corset – admiration mixed with the lingering ache of Jessica’s kiss mark burning on Frankie’s cheekbone.

The heavy rear door swung open. Frankie leaned in, the scent of rain and expensive leather momentarily overwhelming Jessica’s roses. Her green eyes met Judy’s wide violet ones. "Slide on down, Officer Fluff." Her voice was low, intimate against the roar outside. Judy shuffled forward on the smooth leather seat, the sequins of her blue dress catching on the fabric. She swung her shapely legs out as she hoped down, her golden heels tapping onto the wet pavement. Instantly, blinding flashes assaulted her, the heat prickling her fur. She instinctively raised a paw to shield her eyes, her ears pinned flat despite their styled arrangement. A murmur rippled through the crowd – "*A rabbit? In a gown? With Jessica Rabbit?!*" Ignoring the stares, Judy turned back towards the limo’s dim interior, her small paw extended. "Ready, Ms. Rabbit?"

Jessica flowed towards the opening. She placed her purple-gloved hand firmly into Judy’s offered paw – a surprising warmth radiating through the silk. Using Judy’s surprisingly sturdy frame as an anchor, Jessica began her descent. It was a deliberate, unhurried movement, designed for maximum impact. Her impossibly long legs emerged first, sheer stocking gleaming under the flashes, the red sequins of her thigh-high slit parting to reveal a glimpse of toned calf. She straightened fully onto the pavement, towering over Judy and Frankie. The crowd’s roar intensified into a deafening wall of sound and light. Jessica stood utterly serene, a crimson statue amidst the chaos, her lavender-shadowed eyes sweeping the throng with detached amusement. Judy felt dwarfed, the sequins of her own dress suddenly cheap under the onslaught. Frankie moved to shut the heavy door with a solid *clunk*, momentarily muffling the frenzy.

Jessica turned, her gaze sweeping past Judy to land fully on Frankie. The driver stood poised, her black dress clinging to every voluptuous curve, the rain beading on her skin like tiny diamonds under the spotlights. A slow, knowing smile curved Jessica’s crimson lips. "Frankie, darling," she commanded, her voice cutting through the cacophony with effortless power. She gestured towards a nervous-looking human valet hovering nearby, holding a numbered ticket. "Give the keys to that young man." Frankie’s eyebrows lifted minutely, her professional mask flickering. Jessica’s smile deepened, predatory and dazzling. "That gown," she purred, her eyes tracing the lines of Frankie’s body with deliberate appreciation, "wasn't drawn for chauffeur duty. It was drawn for conquest." She leaned fractionally closer, her voice dropping to a velvet whisper meant only for Frankie and Judy's twitching ears. "Let the humans feast their eyes. Show them what a masterpiece looks like in motion."

Frankie’s cool professionalism melted into a slow, smoldering smirk. Her green eyes sparked with sudden, fierce amusement as she turned fully towards the valet. The young man froze under her gaze, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. "Keys," Frankie stated, her smoky voice resonating with newfound authority. She held them out between two elegant fingers, letting them dangle. The valet fumbled, his hand trembling as he grasped them. Their fingers brushed, and Judy saw the valet's cheeks flush crimson as Frankie deliberately held contact a fraction longer than necessary. The camera flashes intensified violently, capturing every micro-expression. Frankie leaned in just enough toward the valet, her lips almost touching his ear. "Treat her gently," she murmured, the words thick with unspoken promise. "She bites." She pulled back, leaving the valet utterly dumbstruck, his eyes wide and glued to her retreating form as she turned back to Jessica and Judy. The roar of the crowd crescendoed into a frenzy.

The trio moved as one unit – Jessica gliding ahead like a crimson tide parting the sea of humanity, Frankie falling into step slightly behind and to her left, her stride confident and predatory, and Judy hustling to keep pace, acutely aware of her shorter legs and the way her golden heels clicked sharply against the wet marble beneath the velvet rope. Human eyes tracked their progress, a mixture of awe, lust, and thinly veiled disbelief clinging to them like fog. They navigated the gauntlet of shouting reporters and blinding flashes. "Ms. Rabbit! Over here!" "Jessica! Give us a smile!" The voices blended into a chaotic hum. Suddenly, a microphone jabbed aggressively towards Jessica’s face, wielded by a sharp-faced human reporter whose hungry eyes devoured her silhouette. "Jessica Rabbit!" he barked, his voice cutting through the din. Jessica stopped smoothly, her expression shifting to cool, detached perfection. Frankie instantly positioned herself slightly forward, a subtle barrier, while Judy instinctively scanned the jostling bodies, her paw drifting near her concealed weapon. "Jessica!" the reporter pressed, practically vibrating. "This nomination... it's unprecedented! A *toon*, nominated for Best Actress! What does it feel like to make history?" He leaned closer, oblivious to Frankie’s narrowing eyes. "Does it feel like a victory for *all* toons? Proof you're more than just... well, drawings?"

Jessica’s crimson lips curved into a smile that didn’t touch her luminous green eyes. She tilted her head, a cascade of red ink hair shifting like silk. "Darling," she purred, her voice a low, velvet blade slicing through the clamor, "history is written by those who refuse to be erased. Tonight isn’t proof of what toons *are*. It’s proof they finally saw what we’ve always *been*." Her gloved hand gestured gracefully toward Judy, whose ears twitched beneath their styled arrangement. "Officer Hopps understands. Dignity isn't granted; it's worn." The reporter blinked, momentarily thrown, as Jessica’s gaze slid past him toward the throng of human stars glittering under the spotlights. "Ask them how it feels to share a ballot with ink and magic."

Beside them, Frankie subtly angled her body, intercepting another reporter—a woman clutching a recorder, her eyes wide with fascination. The human’s breath hitched as Frankie’s towering presence filled her vision, the black dress clinging dangerously to every curve. "Ma’am," Frankie murmured, her smoky voice effortlessly commanding attention without raising its volume. "Let’s keep the focus on Ms. Rabbit." She shifted, her shoulder deliberately brushing the reporter’s arm, a fleeting warmth through damp fabric.

The reporter flushed, stammering, "I—I wanted to ask *you*... What’s it like? Being so close to her every day?"

Frankie’s lips parted in a slow, knowing smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. She leaned in, the scent of rain and expensive perfume enveloping them. "Like holding a lightning bolt," she breathed, her tone intimate. "Exhilarating. Terrifying. You never know when it’ll ignite—or who it’ll strike." Her gaze flickered toward Jessica, lingering on the elegant line of her jaw.

Judy watched, her paw still hovering near her concealed revolver, the sequins of her gown digging into her fur beneath the corset’s pressure. The second reporter leaned closer to Frankie, voice trembling with forced casualness. “Seriously though,” she pressed, adjusting her dress, “what’s it *actually* like? Being lucky enough to work for Jessica Rabbit every damn day?” The scent of her perfume clashed with Frankie’s rain-damp perfume.

Frankie’s gaze remained fixed on Jessica’s profile—the elegant slope of her neck, the defiant tilt of her chin—before sliding back to the reporter. She shifted her weight, the wet silk of her gown tightening across her thigh. “Lucky?” she laughed, low and rough, like gravel dragging against velvet. “Sweetheart, luck’s the wrong word. It’s standing waist-deep in gasoline holding the only match in town.” Her gloved fingers brushed the reporter’s wrist, sending a visible tremor through the woman. “You admire the flame, sure. But you sweat bullets praying it doesn’t decide you’re the kindling.” Frankie’s eyes darkened, pupils dilating. “Best damn burn I’ve ever felt.”

The human reporter swallowed hard, clutching her recorder like a shield, her knuckles white. Before she could stammer a reply, a bright yellow shape cut through the kaleidoscope of bodies. April O’Neil strode forward, her yellow ink dress slicing through the humid air like a sunbeam. Her short brown hair bounced with each purposeful step, white heels tapping a sharp staccato on the marble. A human cameraman lumbered behind her, shouldering his rig through the crush. April’s black-ink eyes scanned the scene—Jessica’s crimson defiance, Frankie’s predatory stillness—before locking onto Judy. Her lips curved into a professional smile as she bent sharply at the waist, bringing her face level with the rabbit’s. “Officer Hopps!” April’s voice was crisp, amplified by the microphone clutched in her hand. “April O’Neil, Channel 6 News. Recognized you from the precinct roster—one of the *very* few toons serving on the LAPD beat.” Her gaze flickered over Judy’s evening gown, a brow quirking. “What’s it *really* like? Working shoulder-to-shoulder with humans in that concrete jungle?”

Judy’s ears stiffened beneath their pinned arrangement. Jessica’s earlier command echoed in her mind—*wear dignity*. She inhaled, catching the faint perfume scent of April’s proximity and the underlying tang of her pink lipstick. *Seductive*, Jessica had taught her. *Make them see you, not the rabbit*. Judy tilted her head, letting the ear draped over her eye shift subtly to frame her face. Her paws rose, fingers brushing the soft inner fur of her long ears with deliberate languor. She tugged one gently, the motion pulling her sequined blue bodice taut against her small breasts. “Oh, it’s… *thrilling*, Ms. O’Neil,” Judy breathed, pitching her voice low and husky. She met April’s gaze, willing her purple eyes to smolder. “The sirens, the adrenaline… the *heat* of human bodies packed close during a stakeout.” She leaned in conspiratorially, the scent of April’s peach ink skin mingling with the damp air. “You learn so much… about friction.”

April blinked, caught off guard. A flush crept up her neck, blooming across her cheeks like spilled ink. Her knuckles tightened around the microphone. “Your… your dress,” she stammered, her professional mask faltering. “That blue… like twilight on ink. It’s… arresting.” Her gaze drifted down Judy’s lithe frame, lingering on the way the gown hugged her narrow waist before flaring over her hips.

Judy smirked, a slow, feline curl of her lips. She smoothed a gloved paw down her own flank, savoring the rasp of silk against silk. “Why, thank you,” she murmured, letting her voice drip like honey. She arched her back slightly, emphasizing the curve beneath her corset. “Darkness suits me… don’t you think?” Her tail twitched under her gown, a twitch under the deep blue. “Though tonight…” Her gaze slid meaningfully toward Jessica’s crimson silhouette. “…it’s all about seeing red.”

April recovered slightly, leaning closer. Her recorder hovered near Judy’s muzzle. “Speaking of tonight… Jessica Rabbit. How long have you known her? To invite you as her guest… for *this*.” She gestured wildly at the surrounding chaos—cameras, diamonds, history unfolding.

Judy watched Jessica lean toward Frankie, whispering something that made the driver’s lips part on a silent gasp. Judy’s smirk deepened, playful and dangerous. She folded her arms beneath her small breasts, pushing them up against the shimmering fabric. “Known her?” Judy laughed, low and throaty. Her eyes never left Frankie’s flushed face as Jessica’s hand brushed the driver’s bare shoulder. “Oh, darling. I’m not her *guest*.” She paused, letting the implication hang. A camera flash caught the sudden dilation of her violet eyes. “I’m her bodyguard.” She leaned toward April’s ear, her whisper a brush of warm breath against sensitive skin. “And this… this electrifying tension? It’s our *first* dance.”

April inhaled sharply, her recorder trembling. Judy felt the scent of April’s perfume—neroli and salt-sweat—pulse against her muzzle. Judy traced a gloved finger along her own collarbone. “Imagine,” she breathed, her gaze drifting back to Frankie’s strained posture under Jessica’s touch. “Standing so close to that much… *power*. Knowing she trusts you with her life.” Her paw drifted to her hip beneath silk folds. Jessica’s crimson nail trailed down Frankie’s spine. Frankie shuddered.

Jessica straightened, her smile sharpening. “Enough distractions,” she declared, her voice slicing through the chatter. “Come, Frankie.” Frankie’s shoulders loosened, relief palpable. Jessica’s gloved hand wrapped around Frankie’s wrist—possessive. “Officer Hopps?” Jessica arched a brow. “Lead the way.”

Judy snapped her spine straight, ears lifting instinctively. “Ma’am.” Her golden heels clipped marble. Jessica didn’t relinquish Frankie’s wrist as they turned toward the soaring entrance doors. Cameras swiveled.

Judy pivoted to April, the reporter frozen mid-question. Judy leaned up, her corset cinching tight. She pressed her muzzle to April’s flushed cheek. The kiss landed soft, deliberate—a smear of dark red ink warming April’s skin. April gasped. Judy pulled back, lips curved in triumph. She winked—one purple eye flashing at the nearest lens. “Keep watching, darling,” she murmured. April’s fingers brushed the lipstick mark absently. Judy spun, hips swaying wide beneath glittering royal blue silk, tails flicking. Each step echoed—gold heels, wet marble, the phantom press of Jessica’s gaze burning her spine.

The lobby swallowed them—silver and glass, hushed murmurs replacing chaos. Judy caught Frankie’s dazed glance. Jessica’s fingers still circled Frankie’s wrist. Judy slowed her stride, letting them draw close. Frankie’s breath hitched. Jessica’s perfume—jasmine and roses—hung thick. Judy’s paws curled. *Dignity is worn.* Her own sequins dug sharp against fur. Frankie’s pulse fluttered visibly at her throat. Jessica leaned close, whispering again. Frankie’s pupils dilated to inkwells. Judy watched Frankie’s free hand clench—knuckles white beneath peach-toned skin. The elevator chimed. Metal doors slid open. Empty. Waiting.

(A few hours later.)

Hours melted into applause. Judy shifted in her velvet seat—golden heels dangling inches above the plush carpet. Beside her, Jessica sat regal, spine straight. Frankie perched rigidly to Jessica’s right. The air hung thick—sweat, perfume, anticipation. Judy’s ears strained beneath their arrangement. Each award acceptance blurred—laughter, tears, static. Her corset squeezed her ribs. Frankie fidgeted. Jessica’s gloved hand landed softly on Frankie’s thigh. Frankie froze. Judy saw the tremor travel through Frankie’s leg—a ripple beneath black silk.

Spotlights flared. Jennifer Love Hewitt strode onto the stage—a cascade of silver sequins catching every beam. Applause swelled. She smiled, leaned into the microphone. Her voice echoed—warm honey. "Actresses," she began, eyes sweeping the darkened auditorium. "We conjure worlds in whispers and screams. We bleed ink and celluloid."

Judy’s paw brushed her own gown—slick silk against glove. Frankie’s breathing grew audible—shallow, quick. Jessica’s thumb traced slow circles on Frankie’s thigh. Judy caught the hitch in Frankie’s breath. A flush crept up Frankie’s neck.

Jennifer continued, "Tonight, five women tore our hearts wide open." The screen behind her flickered. "First, Megan Fox. *Blood Moon Rising*." Applause erupted.

Frankie flinched—Jessica’s grip tightening. Judy felt the sequins dig deeper. Her tail coiled tight beneath satin.

"Christina Hendricks." Jennifer’s voice softened. "*Velvet Noir*." More applause.

Judy shifted. Her corset pressed like a vice. She inhaled—jasmine, sweat, Frankie’s tremor beside Jessica .

"Bryce Dallas Howard." A pause. "*The Glass Orchard*." The clapping swelled.

Frankie swallowed audibly. Jessica’s fingers slid higher—just an inch—on Frankie’s thigh. Silk rustled. Frankie’s knuckles whitened.

"*Hayley Atwell*." Jennifer leaned forward. "*Whisper Protocol*." Thunderous applause now.

Judy’s ears strained against their styled positions. She felt Jessica’s presence—radiant heat against her right flank. Frankie shifted—hips pressing deeper into velvet. A low sigh escaped her lips.

"And finally," Jennifer’s voice dropped—intimate, heavy. The screen filled with crimson—Jessica’s silhouette, defiant and luminous. "*Jessica Rabbit.*" The name hung—sharp, electric. "*Scarlet Sins.*" The roar was deafening. Camera flashes exploded—a strobing frenzy. Judy saw Frankie’s eyes—wide, dark pools—fixed on Jennifer. Jessica’s hand slid fully onto Frankie’s lap—possessive. Frankie gasped. Judy felt the tremor through her own seat.

Jennifer tore open the envelope—golden foil catching the light. She pulled out the card. Her eyes scanned the name. Silence plunged—a sudden, suffocating vacuum. Three heartbeats. Four. Frankie’s knuckles dug into the velvet armrest; Judy smelled ozone and salt-sweat sharpening the perfume haze. Jennifer leaned into the mic, voice cracking—emotion raw. "The Oscar for Best Actress... goes to..." A pause stretched agonizingly. "*Jessica Rabbit.*"

The eruption was seismic. Pandemonium unleashed—a tidal wave of sound crashing against velvet seats. Jessica inhaled—slow, deliberate—her chest rising beneath the shimmering crimson silk. Frankie shuddered violently as Jessica’s fingers left her thigh—cool air replacing burning pressure. Jessica stood—grace incarnate—hips swaying impossibly wide as she navigated the aisle. Spotlights tracked her like hunter’s beams. Judy watched Jessica ascend the stage stairs—the slit revealing flashes of peach-toned leg, each step measured, hypnotic. Jennifer handed her the golden Oscar—heavy, gleaming. Jessica’s fingers curled around it—cool metal meeting warm glove.

"Thank you." Jessica’s voice poured over the hushed auditorium—dark honey, velvet smoke. "To the humans who painted my world—directors, writers, technicians—you dared to see more than lines." She traced the Oscar’s edge with a scarlet fingertip. "And to my fellow toons, dreams given breath—thank you for believing celluloid could hold fire." Her emerald eyes swept the crowd. "Especially Frankie." A pause. Judy saw Frankie stiffen in Jessica’s peripheral vision. "My companion. My anchor. The truest friend ink could conjure." Frankie’s knuckles whitened further; Judy smelled salt-sweat sharpening the perfume haze.

Jessica’s gaze shifted—lashes lowering slightly—toward Judy’s velvet seat. "Tonight," Jessica murmured, her voice softening—intimate, almost tender, "I see another dream etched in courage. Officer Judy Hopps." Judy felt her own ears twitch beneath their pinned arrangement—the sequins digging deeper. "A rabbit who leapt from Toontown’s inkwell… straight into L.A.’s concrete heart." Jessica raised the Oscar—gold catching light. "She wears blue not for glamour… but for duty. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with humans… protecting *all* of Los Angeles." The spotlight swung suddenly—blinding Judy—illuminating her startled purple eyes. Applause rippled—hesitant, then swelling. Judy’s tail coiled tighter beneath silk; heat crawled up her neck.

"And Judy," Jessica continued, leaning into the mic—her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper audible to millions, "knows the fiercest battles… are fought against shadows inside us." Her gaze flickered—brief, sharp—toward Frankie before anchoring back on Judy. The spotlights held Judy pinned—a trembling gray silhouette against deep blue velvet. Jessica’s lips curved—a victory smile edged with something darker. "Tonight proves… anything drawn with enough passion… can defy gravity." She raised the Oscar higher—a golden beacon against the crimson backdrop. Judy felt Jessica’s words settle like lead beneath her corset—a weight far heavier than the award. The applause crescendoed—deafening, relentless. Judy tasted copper—her own lipstick bitten through. Jessica’s emerald eyes never wavered from hers—a challenge… or a promise.

(A few hours later, again.)

Hours later, Frankie’s smooth hands tightened on the steering wheel—knuckles straining beneath peach-toned skin—as the limousine crawled through rain-slicked Hollywood streets. Neon reflections bled across the windshield: pink for liquor stores, blue for pawn shops, crimson bleeding into asphalt puddles. Inside the smoky leather cocoon, Jessica reclined like a satisfied panther, one long leg crossed over the other—the slit in her sequined gown revealing a shimmering expanse of thigh. Judy sat rigid beside her, golden heels discarded, paws pressed flat against the cool leather seat—her ears still pinned taut despite the toon champagne buzzing in her veins. Frankie’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror—caught Jessica’s gaze—and flicked away.

"Darling," Jessica purred—her voice thick with expensive champagne (Jessica is actually able to handle human alcohol.) velvet smoke—as she traced the rim of her empty flute with a scarlet fingertip. "You’re *far* too tense." She shifted—the scent of jasmine and sweat intensifying—and leaned close enough for Judy to feel the heat radiating from her skin. "That little speech…" Jessica’s breath ghosted over Judy’s muzzle—warm, sweet. "Did it… unsettle you?" Her gloved hand drifted—slow, deliberate—to rest high on Judy’s thigh. Judy flinched—the contact electric—as Jessica’s fingers pressed lightly against the sensitive fur beneath her gown. "All those cameras… all those eyes…" Jessica murmured—her thumb circling slowly—"felt like bullets, didn’t they?" Judy’s pulse hammered against Jessica’s palm—rabbit-quick—as Frankie accelerated sharply around a corner, tires hissing on wet pavement. Jessica laughed—low, throaty—as Judy’s claws dug into the leather seat. "Relax, *officer*. The only shooter here…" Her fingers slid higher—inch by torturous inch—toward the lace edge of Judy’s corset. "…is me."

Frankie cleared her throat—sharp, nervous—eyes fixed rigidly ahead. "Ms. Rabbit… Jessica?" Her voice wavered—a tremor beneath forced professionalism. "The… uh… the turn onto Vine Street?"

Jessica’s thumb dug deeper into Judy’s thigh—a deliberate pressure against trembling fur. "Leave the navigation to me tonight, Frankie darling," she murmured—her breath hot against Judy’s pinned ear, smelling of champagne and something dangerously sweet. Judy shivered—the sequins on her dress scraping ink skin where Jessica’s knuckle grazed bare fur above her thighs. "Our little rabbit officer deserves a victory lap… wouldn’t you say?" Jessica’s free hand traced Judy’s cheek—velvet glove rasping against sensitive whiskers—igniting sparks beneath Judy’s ribs. "Such bravery… under fire."

Judy swallowed—copper tang of bitten lipstick mixing with ozone-laced night air leaking through a cracked window. "Ms. Rabbit—"

"*Jessica*," the actress corrected, silk-gloved fingers tightening possessively on Judy's thigh. Her thumb traced hypnotic circles just below the bunny’s corset edge. "After tonight, I think we're beyond titles, darling." Rain-streaked neon flashed crimson across her face, painting her smile predatory. "Tell me… did Frankie’s driving fluster you? Or was it my little… proclamation?"

Judy’s ears twitched against the velvet headrest. "Ms. Rab—"

Jessica’s index finger pressed hard against Judy’s lips, silencing her midword. The glove’s velvet nap rasped against sensitive rabbit fur. "Shhh," Jessica breathed, jasmine-laden air ghosting over Judy’s whiskers. Her eyes—emerald ink pools under heavy lashes—held Judy frozen. "Words matter, officer. Especially tonight." She leaned impossibly closer, the swell of her breast pressing warm against Judy’s sequined shoulder. "Try again. Seduce me with that earnest little voice. Tell me *exactly* what you want."

The limo hit a pothole; Judy jolted, Jessica’s thigh pinning hers firmly to the seat. "Seduce?" Judy rasped, pulse hammering where Jessica’s finger still pressed her lips. She tasted velvet and champagne fumes. "Into… my clothes?"

Jessica’s laugh was smoke curling through velvet. "Oh, Officer Fluffytail." Her thumb brushed Judy’s jawline—slow, deliberate—igniting sparks beneath fur. "Seduce me *here*. Where Frankie hears." She tilted her chin toward the driver’s partition. "Sylvan tunnel’s ahead." Her breath feathered Judy’s ear. "Dark. Private."

Frankie’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror—brief, nervous—before the car plunged into sudden ink-blackness. Tunnel lights strobed overhead: yellow discs bleeding across sequins and sweat-damp fur. Jessica’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial murmur. "Begin."

Judy inhaled—leather, ozone, Jessica’s jasmine musk. "Your… gown," she whispered, the words clumsy in her mouth. "At the podium. When Jennifer said your name?" Judy’s paw hovered near Jessica’s hip—not touching, just tracing the air above shimmering silk. "The slit… opened wider." She leaned closer, voice fraying. "I saw… peach ink skin. High up your thigh. Shining." Jessica’s thumb stilled on her jaw. Judy pressed on, reckless: "And when you said *gravity*? Your hips swayed… wide." She mimicked the motion—a tiny, desperate roll beneath blue sequins. "Like you were seducing the whole room."

Jessica’s exhale hitched—sharp, surprised in the dark. Outside, neon smears dissolved into moonlit meadows as they burst from the tunnel’s mouth. Toontown’s countryside unfurled—plump hills like inkblots under starlight. "Go on," Jessica breathed, her gloved hand sliding higher—fingers brushing the lace edge of Judy’s corset. The pressure burned.

Judy shuddered. "Your glove," she gasped. "When you took the Oscar?" She mapped the memory—words as weapons. "Left hand. Gold cuff bracelet slid down…" Judy’s own paw drifted to Jessica’s wrist, hovering a hair’s breadth from skin. "Showed… bare ink. Inner wrist. Soft." She leaned in—muzzle grazing Jessica’s earlobe. "I thought…" Judy’s whisper trembled: "If I licked there… would it taste like… stage lights? Salt?" Jessica’s fingers dug into her corset lace—anchoring, demanding. Judy obeyed: "Or… champagne?" She nipped Jessica’s earlobe—light, testing. "From… Frankie’s glass?" The driver flinched, knuckles white on the wheel. "A little bit ago… you licked the rim." Judy’s tongue flicked—once—against Jessica’s pulse point. "Same spot." Her voice dropped to pure gravel: "Only slower."

Above Jessica’s head, crimson cartoon hearts bloomed—silent, luminous. Her eyes bled to scarlet hearts. Judy grinned—all teeth. Victory tasted like ink and orchids.

Frankie’s breath hitched—sharp—in the front seat. "Jessica?" she whispered—voice cracking—eyes wide in the rearview mirror. "We’re… here." The limo rolled to a stop—gravel crunching like fractured velvet beneath rain-slicked tires—before wrought-iron gates that curled like frozen smoke. Jessica Rabbit’s mansion glowed beyond: obsidian spires clawing at a bruised sky, lit by floodlights that bled gold onto manicured lawns.

Jessica slid her hand away—slow—leaving Judy’s thigh cold—fur aching. "Darling Frankie," she murmured—silk over ice—as the driver’s door swung open. Frankie emerged—peach-toned legs trembling—eyes darting from Jessica’s heart-shaped gaze to Judy’s flushed muzzle. She rounded the limo—hands shaking as she gripped the chrome handle—and pulled Jessica’s door wide. Jasmine-scented night air rushed in—cold—cleaving the champagne haze. Jessica uncoiled—a serpent in sequins—hips swaying impossibly wide as she stepped onto gravel—her stiletto sinking deep. Judy scrambled after—blue gown snagging—golden bracelets chiming—her paws flinching from wet stones.

Before Frankie could shut the door—a flash of yellow—sudden—blinding—cut through the mansion’s floodlights. April O’Neil burst from behind a weeping willow—ink-damp hair plastered to her neck—yellow dress clinging—translucent—to every curve of her rain-slicked hourglass figure. "Jessica!" she gasped—voice sharp—microphone thrust forward like a weapon—its cord snaking down her thigh. "Channel Six!" Her green eyes—wide—hungry—locked onto Jessica’s Oscar—still clutched in her gloved hand. "Your thoughts—historic win! Humanity embracing toons—when can we schedule—?"

Jessica’s smile didn’t waver—a crimson slash—as she pivoted—silky—blocking Judy with her own sequined hip. "Darling April," she purred—velvet over steel—her gaze slicing past the reporter toward Frankie—who froze—door half-closed—knuckles bone-white on chrome. "Soaked through—and still hunting headlines?" Jessica’s gloved finger tapped—once—against her own temple—a cartoon light bulb flickering—brief—above her head. She leaned—sudden—close to Frankie’s ear—her whisper slicing through the night air: "Take her. Now. Drive. Answer every… burning question." Frankie’s breath hitched—audible—as Jessica’s lips brushed her lobe—warmer than the animated night. "Especially the ones about… *bedroom diplomacy*." Her chuckle—low—dangerous—vibrated against Frankie’s skin. "Seduce her. Thoroughly."

Jessica spun back to April—fluid—her voice lifting—bright—for the microphone. "Frankie knows *all* my secrets—don’t you, darling?" She nodded—slow—meaningful—at Frankie. "She’ll… *entertain* your queries tonight. Discuss timing." Frankie’s cheeks flushed—peach ink deepening to plum—as Jessica’s gaze pinned her. "Every *detail*."

April’s eyes narrowed—suspicion warring with ambition—her yellow dress plastered tight against sharp hipbones. "Frankie?" she scoffed—mic dipping—voice brittle. "What’s a *driver* know about Oscar strategy? Or"—her gaze flicked—hungry—toward Jessica’s jeweled thigh slit—"backstage *wardrobe choices*?" Raindrops slid down her collarbone—into shadowed cleavage.

Jessica’s laugh—a glittering shard—cut the damp air. "Frankie’s not *just* a driver," she murmured—stepping closer—her sequined hip brushing April’s rain-chilled one. The reporter flinched—a tiny gasp escaping painted lips. Jessica’s gloved hand rose—slow—traced April’s jawline—velvet rasping skin. "She knows… where the champagne *really* flows." Her thumb brushed April’s lower lip—lingering. "And which pillows…" Jessica leaned in—her whisper a hot scrape against April’s ear, "…hold the best *stories*." Frankie stiffened—knuckles pale on the limo door—as Jessica added, loud enough for Judy to hear: "Ask her… *anything*."

Frankie swallowed—hard—gravel crunching under her shifting feet. "Ms. O'Neil," she managed—voice thick—eyes darting from Jessica’s smirk to April’s parted lips. "The limo’s… warm. Dry." She jerked her chin—sharp—toward the open door. "We could… talk?" April hesitated—her gaze darting between Jessica’s knowing eyes and Frankie’s trembling hand on the chrome handle—rain dripping from her bangs onto the microphone’s foam. "Right now?" she pressed—leaning closer—the wet yellow silk of her dress brushing Frankie’s wrist—cool, slippery. "Channel Six needs—"

"*Everything*," Jessica interrupted—smooth—her gloved finger tapping April’s chin—catching a raindrop. "Frankie has… *access*. Backstage footage? Oscar engraving secrets?" She leaned—conspiratorial—breath fogging April’s ear. "How my dress *really* stayed on during that… triumphant strut." Frankie flushed—deep plum—as Jessica added—louder: "Go. Drink my best champagne. Ask her"—Jessica’s eyes locked with Frankie’s—"about the *taste* of victory. *All* night." She nudged April’s hip—gentle—toward the limo. "Frankie knows how to… unwind a tense interview."

Frankie’s knuckles whitened on the door handle—voice tight—strained. "Ms. O’Neil?" She gestured—jerky—toward the limo’s plush interior—where leather gleamed under dome lights. "Dry seats. Heated. And"—she swallowed—"Jessica’s private reserve. ’47 Dom Perignon." April hesitated—ambition warring with soaked discomfort—her yellow dress clinging—translucent—to the sharp angle of her hipbone. Rain traced a slow path down her throat—into shadowed cleavage. Frankie’s gaze flickered—hungry—before she added—softer: "I’ve… notes. On Jessica’s acceptance speech draft. The *unspoken*… revisions." April’s eyes widened—mic dipping—as Frankie leaned—sudden—close enough for April to smell damp wool and nervous sweat. "*Intimate* notes."

Jessica pivoted—sequined hips slicing the night air—toward Judy. "Shall we?" Her gloved hand extended—imperious—toward the wrought-iron gates—now sliding open—silent—on phantom hinges.

Judy scrambled—bare paws flinching—as gravel bit into ink skin. "Ms. Rabbit—"

"Inside, Officer," Jessica murmured—low—voice curling like smoke—as she strode—stilettos sinking deep—up the rain-slicked marble steps. Judy followed—ears pinned—blue gown dragging heavy—over dew-drenched cobblestones. Behind them—a sharp gasp—sudden—wet. Judy glanced back—instinct—cop habits dying hard. Frankie had April—one hand tangled—fierce—in the reporter’s damp hair—the other gripping her waist—knuckles pressing—hard—into soaked yellow silk. Their lips locked—desperate—messy—rain plastering April’s bangs to Frankie’s forehead as the reporter melted—back arching—against the limo’s chrome flank—microphone clattering—forgotten—on gravel. Frankie’s tongue—bold—sweeping—claimed April’s mouth—a groan vibrating against wet skin. April’s hands—clawing—at Frankie’s smooth back—pulled her closer—hips grinding—urgent—against damp wool. "Now," April breathed—gasping—against Frankie’s lips—eyes wide—dazed—"Drive. *Now*." Frankie nodded—sharp—breaking the kiss—a strand of saliva stretching—silver—between them—before shoving April—gentle—toward the open door. "Champagne first," Frankie rasped—voice thick—eyes dark—fixated on April’s heaving chest. "Questions... after."

Jessica didn’t turn—didn’t slow—as the limo’s engine snarled—tires spinning gravel against wrought iron—fading fast. Her sequined hip brushed Judy’s, deliberate as they pushed through heavy oak doors, into a foyer wider than Judy’s entire Toontown apartment. Polished obsidian floors reflected crystal chandeliers—cold—glittering—like fractured ice. Judy’s paws flinched—bare soles stinging—against the frigid marble. Silence wrapped—thick—velvet—smothering the distant engine roar—drowning the frantic beat of Judy’s pulse inside her ears. She smelled damp fur—her own—mingled with Jessica’s jasmine—heavy now—with hints of ancient oak and dust. Jessica paused—tall—imposing—her Oscar clutched—tight—in gloved fingers—casting long shadows across the gleaming floor. Judy shifted—golden bracelets chiming—too loud—in the stillness. Her throat burned—dry—words choking her. She had to say it—now—before courage evaporated.

"Ms. Rabbit..... Jessica," Judy started—voice cracking with

Jessica cut her off—smooth—spine straight and not turning around. "You're trembling." Her words sliced—cold—through the cloying silence. "Bare paws on marble."

Judy clenched her toes—ink pads stinging against frigid stone. "Not trembling," she lied as she forcing her chin up—voice hardening. "It's the adrenaline."

"Adrenaline?" Jessica chuckled low and dangerous—her gloved fingers stroking the Oscar's gold-plated curves. "Or"—she pivoted—sudden—sequins hissing—eyes locking onto Judy's clenched jaw—"fear?"

Judy bristled with her fur lifting along her spine. "Why would I be afraid?"

Jessica stepped closer with her stilettos clicking—sharp—like gunshots—her shadow swallowing Judy's small frame. "Little rabbit," she purred—velvet over steel—her breath warm—sudden—against Judy's damp muzzle. "Alone. In a predator's den." Her gaze traced Judy's tight dress—slow—lingering—on the frantic flutter beneath blue sequins. "With a *fox*."

Judy flinched as instinct kicked in, a memory flashing behind her eyes: Nick's teasing grin—sharp—in the Toontown ice parlor. "I'm not prey, Jessica. " she snapped her ears twitching, paw drifting down to her right hip. "And this cute little rabbit might just end up having her way with the gorgeous fox. All night long."

Jessica's laugh echoed—rich and low—through the cavernous foyer as she turned away from Judy, hips swaying in a mesmerising rhythm. The shimmering trail of her sequined gown slithered across the obsidian floor like liquid rubies. "Help yourself to the bar, Officer Hopps," she called over her shoulder, gesturing toward an ebony monstrosity laden with crystal decanters that caught the chandelier light. "Anything you want—just be cautious." Her stiletto paused mid-step on the grand staircase as she glanced back, a sly curve playing on her crimson lips. "I’ve mixed the human gin with my toon spirits. One sip might send your eyes spinning… or worse." She ascended the stairs, each step deliberate, the Oscar gleaming in her gloved hand. "I'll secure this… trophy. Won't be long."

The moment Jessica vanished around the velvet-draped landing, Judy's shoulders slumped. The silence pressed in—thick and velvet—broken only by the frantic thrumming of her own heart beneath the constricting blue sequins. She exhaled, a shaky puff stirring the dust motes dancing in a shaft of cold light from the chandelier high above. Her bare paws, still aching from the frigid marble, carried her toward the gleaming obsidian bar. Crystal bottles glinted—amber, emerald, ruby—promising oblivion. *Help yourself,* Jessica’s smoky voice echoed. *Anything.* Judy hops up to bring one of her gloved hands hovering over a crystal decanter filled with shimmering, impossibly blue liquid that seemed to bubble on its own. Toon gin? Her throat was parchment. One sip.

"GET YOUR FILTHY PAWS OFF ME, YOU DAMNED DIRTY APE!"

Jessica’s roar wasn't a scream—it was a sonic boom tearing through the mansion’s oppressive hush. Judy’s fur stood on end, every instinct screaming predator-danger-prey! Her eyes bulged impossibly wide—*POP!*—launching forward on coiled springs before snapping back into her skull with twin *thwocks* as she hovered mid-air for a frozen second. Fear surged, cold and electric. Training kicked in—hard. She hit the marble floor running, paws slipping only once before finding traction.

"WHERE DID YOU PUT IT, YOU OVERDRAWN HUSSY?" A guttural snarl echoed from above—gravel dragged through broken glass. Judy was already vaulting up the sweeping staircase, ears pinned flat, pawed feet barely touching the cold marble stairs. She didn't think—she reacted. Training and terror fused into pure momentum. The sequins of her gown scraped against the polished banister, a frantic *shhhhk* accompanying each leap. Her right paw plunged *deep* into the snug valley between her own small, drawn breasts—ink fur parting around the cool steel grip of her standard-issue Toon-Tech Glock 9mm. The sudden pressure against her ribs stole her breath.

**CRASH!** Judy’s reinforced bunny foot connected with the solid oak door just below the ornate brass knob. Wood splintered with a sound like celery snapping amplified tenfold. The heavy door slammed inward, rebounding off the wall with a shuddering groan. Her gun snapped up, level and steady despite the frantic hammering against her ribs.

"DON'T YOU DARE SQUEEZE HER, YOU FLATLY-DRAWN GOON!" Judy's command sliced through the chaos, gun unwavering as her eyes locked on the nightmare scene:

Jessica pinned against burgundy wallpaper, one gloved hand clawing uselessly at the forearm crushing her sequined ribs. The thief—a towering badger toon in grease-stained coveralls—held the Oscar aloft like war loot, his other hand engulfing Jessica's very slim waist. Jessica's gasp was strangled, desperate. "The... engraving...!" she choked out, green eyes wide with panic not for herself but for the trophy's pristine surface as the badger's thumb scraped across its gold plating.

The badger snarled, revealing jagged cartoon teeth stained with what smelled like cheap cigar smoke and axle grease. "Shuddup, lady! This lil' gold person's buyin' me a one-way ticket outta this jokepit!" His thumb dug deeper into the Oscar's miniature figure, leaving a visible dent in the gold plating.

Jessica whimpered—not from the crushing grip on her waist, but from seeing the trophy marred. "Please... it's not just mine... it's for *all* of us..."

"Put it down!" Judy barked, advancing into the bedroom. Her voice sliced through the musk of Jessica’s perfume and the badger’s sour sweat. "Now! And let her go!"

The badger snorted—a wet, grating sound—and tightened his hold on Jessica’s hipbone hard enough to make her gasp. "Or what, cottontail? Gonna nibble my ankles?" His glare dropped to Judy’s sequined gown—lingered—and a leer split his face. "Or maybe you wanna watch me teach this *classy fox* what a *real* badger does with a prize?" He thrust his hips suggestively against Jessica’s sequined thigh, the Oscar swinging wildly from his fist. "Bet she squeals pretty."

Judy didn’t blink. Her paw squeezed the trigger—once—a sharp *crack* that echoed off the velvet drapes. The bullet punched through the badger’s wrist with cartoonish precision—ink blood splattering crimson stars across the wallpaper. His roar shook chandelier crystals as the Oscar clattered to the Persian rug, rolling against Jessica’s discarded stiletto. "You BIT me, you flea-bitten fluffball!" he bellowed, clutching his limp hand. Steam erupted from his ears in furious whistling spirals—eyes igniting into cartoon fireballs.

"You talk too much," Judy snarled, already airborne—ears flattened like helicopter blades—as she launched herself feet-first at his jaw. Her golden high heels she had put back on, slammed into his chin with a hollow *THOOM*, snapping his head back. Cartoon stars burst above him—spinny, sparkly—before she landed in a crouch on the rumpled silk bedspread. Jessica scrambled backward, gasping, one opera glove torn, green eyes wide as saucers. The badger swayed—dazed—clear ink spit dripping from his jaw onto the carpet. "Little... bunny..." he slurred, swiping blindly at her.

"You okay?" Judy barked, not taking her eyes off the staggering badger. Her paw tightened around the Glock—still trained center-mass. Jessica nodded mutely, pressing a trembling hand to her crushed ribs beneath the sequins. The badger roared—a wet, gravelly sound—and charged, swinging his uninjured fist like a cartoon anvil. Judy dodged, fluid. The fist sailed past, punching clean through the mahogany wardrobe door with a splintering *CRUNCH*. Before he could wrench it free, Judy was on him—a gray streak of fury. She kicked the back of his knee—hard—with her sharp heel. His leg buckled with a sickening *POP* of cartoon tendons.

"Stay down!" Judy yelled, driving her knee into his kidney—once, twice—her sequined skirt catching against his greasy coveralls. He howled, knees hitting the carpet. She locked her arms around his thick neck from behind, squeezing—ink fur flattening under her gloves. His eyes bulged—comically huge—then crossed into dizzy spirals.

Steam whistled weakly from his ears. "No more... squealin'..." he gasped, cartoon stars orbiting his head.

She shoved him face-first onto the rug, pressing his nose deep into the Persian weave. "Officer Hopps!" Jessica choked out, scrambling toward the fallen Oscar.

He bucked—sudden—throwing Judy sideways into a vanity table. Glass bottles shattered—perfume sprayed sharp and floral—as she skidded bareback over splintered wood. Ink blood bloomed hot across her shoulder blade. "Little rabbit thinks she's tough?" he spat, rising unsteadily. Crimson ink dripped from his chin onto Jessica’s sequined thigh as he grabbed her ankle. "Watch me peel this fox!" Jessica kicked hard—her stiletto heel plunging deep into his eye. He roared—releasing her—as Judy launched herself airborne.

"Hands off!" she snarled, landing squarely on his shoulders. Her paws gripped his greasy ears—yanking back—as her knees locked tight around his throat. Cartoon tendons stretched—thin—beneath ink fur. He gagged, clawing at her thighs. She twisted—vicious—a wet *POP* echoing. His body sagged—limp—eyes rolling white before he crashed sideways through a velvet chaise lounge. Springs exploded upward like a jack-in-the-box.

Judy dropped to the carpet, panting. Ink sweat stung her eyes. Jessica knelt beside her, trembling fingers smoothing Judy’s ruffled ear. "You... beat him," Jessica breathed, awe softening her voice. The Oscar lay gleaming beside them—dented, but intact. Outside, sirens wailed—distant—approaching. Judy’s gun rested cold against Jessica’s hipbone.

(A few minutes later.)

"Easy there, Champ!" Officer Clawhauser grunted, wrestling the groggy badger's shoulders as two rookies hauled his legs toward the black-and-white paddy wagon. Ink blood smeared the chrome bumper. "Thought you squirrels ate acorns, not lead!"

The badger spat a glob of crimson onto the sidewalk. "Screw you, donut boy! That fluffball *shot* me!" His eyes spun lazily, cartoon stars still orbiting his dented skull.

Flashbulbs erupted like miniature supernovas. "Officer Hopps! Over here!" shouted a hyena reporter in a rumpled trench coat, thrusting a microphone past a rhino cameraman. "Is it true Jessica Rabbit provoked the attack by refusing an autograph?"

Judy’s ears flattened against the barrage. Before she could retort, a familiar, honeyed voice sliced through the chaos. "Darling, the only thing I refused was his abysmal taste in cufflinks." Jessica emerged from the manor doorway.

Frankie shoved past a chihuahua photographer, her black ink dress stark against the flashing bulbs. She seized Jessica’s gloved hands—tight—her knuckles paling under her peach ink. "Jess! Your ribs!" Frankie’s gaze raked over Jessica’s sequined bodice. "Did that grease-stained gutter-rat *crush* you?"

Jessica winced as Frankie’s probing fingers brushed the bruised area beneath her dress. "Just... a little souvenir, Frankie," she murmured, leaning into her friend’s sturdy frame. "The Oscar’s safe. That’s what matters." Jessica than stretches and her toon body heals good as new.

Frankie’s ink-dark eyes softened as she traced a smeared sequin near Jessica’s collarbone. "Damn right it is," she growled, pulling Jessica into a fierce hug that smelled of roses and violets. "Next time, scream louder." She pressed a hard, protective kiss to Jessica’s temple—leaving a bold crimson lipstick mark—before turning to Judy. "You alright, Fluff?"

Judy wiped sweat and splattered ink-blood from her brow with the back of her glove, smudging her dark blue eyeshadow. Her sequined dress clung uncomfortably to her fur where perfume and spilled gin had soaked through. Judy spin in a mini tornado and than stopped herself. Her makeup and dress was completely perfect again. Judy gives Frankie a smirk and wink. "I'm just fine Frankie."

Frankie gave Judy a nod and a thumbs up. Frankie turned back to Jessica. "Listen, Jess," Frankie murmured, her ink-dark knuckles whitening as they brushed Jessica’s hipbone beneath the torn slit of her sequined gown. "That badger squeezed you like a tube of paint. You’re sure nothing’s cracked?"

Jessica’s laugh was a low, smoky purr that vibrated against Frankie’s black ink dress. "Frankie, darling, I’ve survived piano drops and steamrollers." She flexed her spine deliberately—the luxurious curve of her back arching—audible cartilage *popping* like champagne corks. "Though I’ll admit…" She traced the faint impression of thick badger fingers still visible on her silk-stockinged thigh. "...his grip had *enthusiasm*."

Soon around them erupted in a kaleidoscope of flashing bulbs and tinny recorder voices. "Officer Hopps! Describe the takedown!" A microphone jabbed toward Judy’s nose, wielded by a sentient fedora perched atop a floating notepad. Beside him, a towering anthropomorphic camera lens whirred aggressively.

"Did Jessica Rabbit’s *provocative attire* escalate the situation?" shouted a bulldog in a checkered suit, ink spittle flying from his jowls. Judy’s ears twitched, the cacophony pressing against her like physical shoves. She gripped her hips, knuckles tight beneath her gloves.

"Back it up, Scoop!" Frankie snarled, stepping between Judy and the crowd, her peach ink knuckles cracking audibly. Her glare swept over the reporters—a living shield radiating menace. "The *only* thing escalated here is Officer Hopps’ hero status." She jabbed a thumb toward Judy. "Kid put down a badger four times her size who thought he could manhandle Jessica. Show some damn respect or I’ll show *you* how escalation feels!"

Suddenly, a familiar scent cut through the exhaust and chaos—roses mixed with newsprint ink. "Oh, bunny! Over here!" April O’Neil’s voice soared above the din. She pushed through the wall of reporters, her sunny yellow dress a beacon against the gloom. Her tan peach ink skin was a canvas of crimson lipstick kisses—smudged trails starting high on her cheeks, cascading down her neck, swirling around the valley of her cleavage, and disappearing beneath the hemline onto her shapely legs. She grinned, bending sharply at the waist until her face was level with Judy’s, eyes sparkling with respect. "Officer Judy Hopps! You’re the talk of Toontown! Describe the moment you knew you had to be tonight’s heroine!" A miniature tape recorder materialized in her hand, humming eagerly.

Jessica arched one perfectly drawn eyebrow, her gaze lingering on the constellation of kisses staining April’s thighs. "Frankie…" she murmured, her voice thick with amusement. "...those distraction tactics seem *thoroughly* applied. Impressive coverage."

Frankie flushed a deep plum, crossing her arms tightly. "Yeah, well," she muttered, kicking at a loose cobblestone. "Didn't even get past second base before you started screaming the block down. Barely had time for *lip service*." Jessica chuckled, the sound like velvet over stone, and leaned in to whisper something that made Frankie’s pout deepen into a scowl. Judy felt a blush creeping beneath her gray fur—April’s perfume overwhelming, the reporters’ shouts pressing closer—as the recorder buzzed impatiently.

The crowd thinned slowly, officers dispersing with the groaning badger, leaving the scent of exhaust hanging thick. Frankie sighed, pulling Jessica into a fierce hug that crushed sequins against silk. "Get some sleep, Trouble," she murmured into Jessica’s neck, her voice rough.

Jessica hummed, tracing Frankie’s jawline. "Always."

Then Frankie bent low—Judy’s nose suddenly filled with violets and roses—and scooped her up effortlessly. Judy gasped, ears stiffening. "Hey! Put me—"

Frankie’s arms squeezed her ribs, a hard press of muscle against Judy’s corset. "*Thanks*, Fluff," Frankie breathed into her fur, lips brushing her cheek with a brief, dry warmth that lingered. Judy froze, heart hammering against Frankie’s collarbone. Frankie set her down gently, her high heels clicking on pavement.

Without a backward glance, Frankie sauntered toward April with her hips swaying like a metronome and seized the yellow fabric stretched tight between April’s breasts. April yelped, ink-dark eyes widening. "Whoa, Frankie—!"

Frankie smirked, fingers twisting deeper into the bodice. "Save it for the limo, gorgeous." She hauled April backward, the reporter stumbling on her heels. "Jess’s ride’s leaving." April’s recorder tumbled to the curb, voice faint: "...got a *real* story now..."

The limousine door slammed shut like a gunshot, muffling Frankie’s heated whispers. The car peeled away, leaving rubbery streaks on asphalt. Silence descended, thick as fog.

Jessica watched the taillights vanish, then turned. Her gaze settled on Judy with a heavy, appreciative. A slow smile curved her crimson lips. "Well, Officer Honey Bunny," she murmured, voice like velvet over gravel. "Seems you're my personal heroine tonight. What now? Another thrilling arrest? Or..." Her green eyes darkened, pupils dilating. "...something less... official?"

Judy’s smirk flashed sharp. She coiled, ears flattening, then she sprang like a gray bullet—straight into Jessica’s waiting arms. Her paws locked behind the toon woman’s neck, breath catching against Jessica’s collarbone. She tilted her head forward until their noses brushed. Jessica’s perfume—aged bourbon and crushed gardenias—wrapped around them. Judy leaned close, warm mint breath ghosting Jessica’s lips. "I don’t need a badge," she whispered, voice low and husky, "to cuff you tonight."

The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was teeth and heat and desperate hunger. Judy crushed their mouths together with a force that sent Jessica staggering back a step. The rabbit’s paws tangled in Jessica’s hair, pulling her deeper as her tongue slid against Jessica’s—slick, demanding. Ink sparks fizzed where their lips met, tingling against Judy’s muzzle. Jessica groaned into her mouth, hands tightening on Judy’s hips, sequins biting into fur.

Jessica held her effortlessly, Judy’s legs hanging by Jessica’s sides. Their kiss never broke, it only deepened as Jessica carried her through the manor’s grand foyer. Judy’s paws roamed greedily: tracing the divots of Jessica’s spine beneath her silky dress, pressing against the swell of her ribs, feeling the frantic drumbeat of Jessica’s cartoon heart echoing against her own chest. "You taste like victory," Judy gasped against Jessica’s lips, her voice thick with lust. A phantom clink—imaginary metal snapping shut—seemed to hang in the air between them. Jessica’s answering moan vibrated into Judy’s mouth, her grip tightening possessively. The rabbit’s hips rolled instinctively against Jessica’s abdomen, seeking friction even mid-air. Ink sparks fizzed again, hotter this time, tracing paths down Judy’s flushed throat.

They burst into the dimly lit bedroom. Jessica didn't pause, didn't lower her. She stood tall amidst the plush velvet and silk, Judy suspended before her like an offering. "Officer Hopps," Jessica breathed, her voice smoky and thick, "still enforcing the law?"

Judy’s smirk was pure defiance in the gloom. "Just ensuring compliance." Before Jessica could react, Judy seized the sweetheart neckline of that scarlet sequined dress with both paws. Gravity lent her strength as Jessica’s arms instinctively loosened slightly. Judy pulled *down*, hard and fast, using her falling momentum.

Jessica gasped—a sharp, startled sound—as the shimmering fabric cascaded over her curves like liquid rubies. It pooled silently around her spike heels, leaving her utterly bare. Her G-cup breasts bounced free with a resonant, cartoon *boing-oing-oing*, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet. Judy landed softly on the plush carpet, knees bent. Looking up, her large purple eyes instantly transformed into pulsing, crimson cartoon hearts.

"Didn't think that through, did you, Officer?" Jessica murmured, voice husky with amusement. She didn’t move to cover herself, standing tall and luminous in the moonlight filtering through the drapes. Her skin glowed like warm peach ink, the swell of her breasts rising and falling with each breath, tipped with berry-dark nipples that puckered in the cool air.

Judy’s smirk widened, her paws still clutching the discarded silk. "Thought I’d enforce a dress code violation," she purred, gaze raking upward from Jessica’s feet to the hypnotic sway of her breasts. The lingering scent of bourbon and gardenias intensified, mingling with Judy’s own adrenaline-sharp musk. "No bra? No panties? Bold choice, Rabbit."

Jessica laughed—a low, smoky ripple that made Judy’s fur prickle. "Why bother?" she murmured, stepping gracefully from her pink stilettos. The *clack* echoed sharply as each heel hit the floor. She peeled off her purple opera gloves slowly, inch by inch, revealing smooth peach ink beneath. The fabric sighed as it slid free, pooling beside the dress. "When undressing’s half the fun…" Her eyes locked onto Judy’s, pupils dilating further. "Your turn, Officer."

Judy’s breath hitched. She kicked off her golden heels—the soft *thud* muted against the rug—and reached behind her back. "Thought you’d never ask." The corset laces gave way with a sharp *twang*, and the sparkly blue dress slithered down her frame like shed skin. She stepped free, leaving it crumpled. Next came the panties—a quick shimmy, and they joined the heap. Only the little black bra remained, hugging her small chest. She traced the lace trim, a smirk playing on her lips. "See? Makes ‘em look like *real* breasts. Not just… rabbit nubs." Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Almost convincing, right?"

Jessica’s laugh was velvet smoke. "Darling," she purred, closing the distance between them. Her peach fingers brushed Judy’s gloved forearm. "Convincing? Those gloves alone could make a priest sin." Judy shuddered as Jessica’s thumb circled the sensitive patch of fur just above her shoulder. "But this?" Jessica hooked a finger under the bra’s thin strap, letting it snap lightly against Judy’s shoulder. The rabbit flinched—a jolt straight to her core. "This is *adorable*. Like wrapping dynamite in lace." Her gaze drifted lower, lingering on Judy’s bare hips. "Though I must admit…" She leaned in, her breath hot against Judy’s ear. "...I’m dying to know how well we will fit together. " Jessica straighteners back up her hands on her curvy hips.

Judy stood on her tiptoes, her nose brushing Jessica’s stomach. She inhaled deeply—bourbon, sweat, gardenias—before glancing up. "Fit?" she rasped, heart pounding against her ribs. Her paws slid upward, tracing Jessica's peach ink hips. "Don't sweat it, Rabbit." Her voice dropped to a growl. "I know exactly where my tongue goes." Judy’s eyes flashed crimson hearts as she ducked her head lower. "And what it’s gonna do." Judy stays on her tiptoes to tongue fuck Jessica’s pussy while Jessica is still on her feet on the floor. Her tongue slid against Jessica’s slit—hot, wet silk meeting slick heat—and Jessica gasped, thighs trembling.

"Ohh, clever bunny—!" Jessica moaned, fingers tangling in Judy’s ears. Judy hummed against her, the vibration traveling straight to Jessica’s spine. "You're not just... ah!... nibbling lettuce."

Judy’s answering smirk vibrated against Jessica’s clit. "Shut up," she growled, breath hot against slick folds. "Concentrating."

Jessica’s laugh dissolved into a gasp as Judy’s tongue plunged deeper—firm, insistent strokes that made Jessica’s knees buckle. "D-don’t stop...!" Her G-cup breasts heaved, cartoonish *boing* sounds echoing as Judy’s paws gripped her thighs, holding her upright. "Feels like you’re... little tongue was drawn for this..."

"Good," Judy panted against her, tasting salt and bourbon-sweet musk. Her nose bumped Jessica’s clit deliberately. "Now scream for me." Judy then slams her tongue in as far as she can.

Jessica arched violently, her cry shattering the quiet. "JUDY!" Her fingers clenched in Judy’s ears, pulling her impossibly closer. "Right *there*, bunny...don’t you dare...!" Her words dissolved into breathless gasps as Judy’s tongue curled, relentless and knowing, against her swollen inner walls. "Oh god, oh god...it’s...I’m...!"

Judy felt it building—a tremor deep within Jessica’s core, radiating through the peach ink thighs she gripped. The slick heat flooding her mouth intensified, thick and syrupy-sweet, tasting of strawberries and crushed orchids. Jessica’s moans climbed to a desperate, keening pitch. "Bunny...*please*..." she choked out, her voice ragged. "It’s...ohgod*ohgod*...too much, I can’t...!" Her cartoon heart thundered visibly against her ribcage, stretching rhythmically outward like a drumskin.

Suddenly, Jessica’s knees buckled completely. She tore away with a gasp that sounded like tearing velvet, stumbling backward. Her G-cup breasts bounced wildly as she fell onto the massive bed in a sprawl of peach limbs, her chest heaving. "Stars...and *sparkles*..." she panted, staring dazedly at the canopy above. Her flushed skin glistened, her slit visibly pulsing, slick trails painting her inner thighs. "You...you devious little...carrot thief..."

Judy swallowed hard, a thick, audible *gulp* echoing in the sudden quiet. The clear, sticky essence of Jessica’s climax coated her tongue – tangy and electric, like fizzy berry wine with an undertow of salt and musk. A satisfied shiver ran down her spine. "Tastes like trouble," she rasped, wiping her muzzle with the back of a gloved paw, purple eyes dark and gleaming.

"Trouble's my middle name," Jessica breathed, a lazy, sated smile curving her lips. Her hair fanned out like spilled ink on the silk sheets. "Though after that... 'Ms Officer Honey Bunny' feels far more scandalous."

Judy wiped her muzzle again, the lingering tang sharp and addictive on her tongue. "Scandal's the only language this city understands." She didn't hesitate. With a powerful spring coiled in her rabbit legs, she launched herself onto the bed. The silk sheets whispered as she landed straddling Jessica’s waist, her smaller frame perched atop the taller toon’s hips. Jessica’s eyes widened slightly, a breathless "*Oh!*" escaping her lips as Judy’s warm, damp fur met her bare skin.

"Still breathing?" Judy murmured, her voice a low rasp. Jessica gasped, the sound ragged and thick, her chest heaving beneath Judy’s slight weight on her hips. Judy leans down and kisses Jessica’s stomach, tasting salt and musk.

Jessica shivers, her voice breathless: "Trying to... Stars above, little bunny... that tongue of yours..."

Judy lifts her muzzle, lips grazing Jessica's navel. "Quit talking," she murmurs, tracing a slow, wet path upward. Her paws slide up Jessica's body, enjoying the smooth feel. "Just feel." Her warm breath ghosts over Jessica's ribs as she places teasing kisses along the swell beneath each breast. "Your skin tastes like starlight... and sin."

Jessica arches, her voice trembling: "Judy—"

Judy silences her with a slow, deliberate lick along the underside of Jessica's right breast. "Told you to hush." She takes the heavy weight in both paws, kneading gently as her tongue circles the berry-dark nipple.

Jessica gasps—a sharp inhale—as Judy draws it fully into her mouth, suckling with deep, rhythmic pulls. "God," Jessica whispers, fingers sliding into Judy's ears. "Your little mouth... hotter than I imagined."

"Big talk," Judy murmurs against slicked skin, shifting to lavish the same attention on Jessica's left breast. She bites down playfully, then soothes it with broad strokes of her tongue. "Bet you say that to all the cops."

Jessica's answering laugh dissolves into a moan as Judy swirls her tongue around the pebbled peak. "Only the ones who taste like... oh... trouble."

Judy hums against her skin, the vibration traveling straight to Jessica's core. "Keep calling me 'little,'" she warns, teeth grazing a sensitive swell. "See what happens." Her paws roam lower, tracing the dip of Jessica's stomach.

"Big talk," Jessica breathes, fingers tightening in Judy’s ears. "For such a... *ah!*... compact package."

Judy releases Jessica’s right breast with an audible, wet *pop*. The nipple springs free, glistening and swollen. She moves to the left, sucking harder, deeper—until Jessica arches off the sheets with a gasp. Another resonant *pop* echoes as Judy detaches. "Compact," Judy rasps, licking a stray bead of milk-sweet moisture from Jessica’s trembling sternum. "But *thorough*." She begins trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses upward—past the hollow of Jessica’s throat, the pulse hammering beneath her jawline. Each kiss leaves a damp constellation on peach ink skin. "Still feel… little?" Judy whispers against Jessica’s bottom lip, her breath hot and mint-sharp.

"No," Jessica breathes, fingers tightening in Judy’s ears. Her eyes flutter shut. "You feel… inevitable." Judy’s tongue slides deliberately across Jessica’s lower lip, slick and possessive. Jessica moans—a low, surrendering sound. "Oh, *bunny*…"

Judy kisses her, deep and demanding, her smaller mouth claiming Jessica’s full lips. Jessica tastes herself—salt, musk, sweet exhaustion—on Judy’s tongue. It floods her senses: the electric tang of her own climax mingling with Judy’s sharp adrenaline and gardenia perfume. "That’s *you*," Judy murmurs against her lips, pulling back just enough to watch Jessica’s dazed green eyes blink open. Jessica’s tongue darts out, chasing the lingering flavor. Judy grins, sharp white teeth flashing in the dim light. "Like it?"

"Always." Jessica’s voice is rough velvet. Her fingers tighten in Judy’s ears, tugging her closer. "But I prefer..."

Judy shushes her with another kiss, softer this time. Her paws glide down to Jessica’s large breasts and squeezes them. "Silence," Judy whispers against Jessica’s jawline, her breath hot on damp skin. Her nose nudges Jessica’s chin upward. "Stop talking." Jessica whimpers, arching her throat. Judy’s kisses trail lower—down the straining tendons, the frantic pulse—each press of lips deliberate, possessive. Jessica’s breath hitches, ragged and wet. Judy lifts her muzzle, meeting Jessica’s hooded gaze. "Feel," Judy commands, her voice rough velvet. "Not talk." Jessica nods, mute surrender in her eyes. Her fingers slide deeper into Judy’s ears, gripping tight.

Judy slides her short body down Jessica’s taller frame—inch by agonizing inch—her glossy gray fur rasping against Jessica’s slick peach ink skin. She pauses at Jessica’s sternum, nuzzling the sweat-damp valley between her breasts.

"Too… slow…" Jessica gasps, hips lifting impatiently. Judy chuckles low in her chest—a rumble Jessica feels against her ribs, but doesn’t hurry. She drags her nose across Jessica’s trembling belly, inhaling musk and salt.

"Patience," Judy murmurs, flicking her tongue into Jessica’s navel.

Jessica cries out, fingers twisting in Judy’s ears. "Rabbit!" Judy ignores her, kissing lower—past the swell of Jessica’s hips, the dip of her navel—until she reaches the burning heat between Jessica’s thighs. Judy nudges Jessica’s legs wider with her shoulder. "Hold me," Jessica breathes, her voice thick and trembling. Judy’s paws slide beneath Jessica’s legs, pulling her thighs open. "Like *this*?"

Judy slides down, her fur slick against Jessica’s inner thighs. She settles between Jessica’s long legs, her own hips pressing forward. The outer lips of her small, wet pussy bumps against Jessica’s swollen folds. "Oh!" Jessica gasps, green eyes widening as Judy’s heat presses flush against hers—slick fur meeting slicker skin. "Little bunny… you’re already *dripping*."

Judy grinds against her roughly. "Been thinking about this," Judy rasps, breath hot against Jessica’s breasts "Since I saw you step out of your front door."

Jessica arches, thighs squeezing around Judy’s hips. "Thinking?" Her laugh trembles. "All that lust in those… purple eyes?" Judy nips Jessica under her large breasts. "Every damn shift," she growls. "Watching your dress ride up when you sat." Jessica’s fingers dig into Judy’s shoulders. "Officer Hopps… such a voyeur."

Judy thrusts her hips, grinding her clit against Jessica’s in slow, deep circles. "Say you hate it," Judy dares, teeth scraping skin.

Jessica moans, low and broken. "I hate… how wet you make me."

Judy presses harder, her smaller mound slotting perfectly against Jessica’s fullness. The friction sparks—electric and dizzying. "Fit?" Judy breathes into Jessica’s large breasts, hips rolling slow and deep. "Told you we would."

Jessica’s laugh catches—sharp and breathless—as Judy’s velvet-clad paws slide to her stomach, pinning her down. "Such a smug rabbit," she gasps.

Judy’s thumbs dig into the soft flesh above Jessica’s hips. "Who’s talking?" Judy grinds harder, her small breasts bouncing with each thrust—tiny, muffled *thumps*.

Jessica moans, her own G-cups jiggling wildly—a symphony of cartoon *boing-boings* echoing around them . "Stars above… that sound…"

"It’s you," Judy rasps, lifting her head. Sweat beads on her muzzle, glinting in the low light. "Those big, beautiful tits begging for more."

Jessica grips Judy’s ears, pulling her to look into her eyes. "Then *take* more, bunny."

Judy’s hips snap forward—sudden, brutal—grinding her slick folds hard against Jessica’s swollen core. "Fuck," Jessica gasps, spine arching off the silk. "So rough..."

"Too rough?" Judy grits her teeth, pistoning faster, her gray fur soaked with mingled wetness. Her thighs tremble against Jessica’s hips. "*Tell me* too rough."

Jessica’s nails dig into Judy’s shoulders. "Never rough enough! Harder, rabbit—*faster*!" Her hips buck upward, meeting Judy’s frantic thrusts. "Make me *forget*!"

Judy grits her teeth, teeth gleaming sharp in the dim light. Her hips piston wildly now—a blur of frantic gray fur against peach ink skin. "Shut...*ah*...up!" she gasps between jolts, sweat dripping from her muzzle under Jessica’s heaving chest. "Just...take...it!" Her thighs tremble violently with the effort, every muscle coiled and burning.

Jessica’s moans shatter into wordless cries. "Y-yes! *God*, yes!" Her legs lock around Judy’s waist, the back of her legs digging into the rabbit’s lower back, trying to pull her impossibly deeper. Every frantic thrust sends ripples through Jessica’s breasts, their bouncing rhythm punctuated by wet slaps and high-pitched cartoon *boing-boings*. Judy’s ears press flat against her skull, the desperate grip on them the only anchor as her hips piston faster, faster—

"I can’t—" Jessica gasps, tears sparkling at the corners of her eyes. "Judy, it’s too—"

Judy grits her teeth so hard her jaw aches. "*Don’t stop*," she snarls, the command ripped from somewhere primal. Her thighs burn with the effort, muscles screaming, but she drives forward with frantic, punishing speed. Suddenly, without conscious thought, a deep *pull* surges from her core—an instinct older than ink and celluloid. Her wet, straining pussy clamps down instinctively against Jessica’s folds.

Jessica gasps, sharp and jagged. "Sweet...*stars*...!" Her eyes snap wide—green ink pupils dilating into cartoon-heart shapes instantly—as she feels Judy’s body seal tight against hers. The sudden suction is shocking, profound; it’s not just friction anymore—it’s *fusion*.

"Your...your *instincts*...!" Jessica chokes out, body arching violently against the sheets. Her peach skin flushes crimson from collarbone to navel. The rhythmic suck-suck-suck pulses between them—a wet, guttural sound like drowning. Judy’s rabbit ears pin flat against her skull, her own breath ragged whistles.

"Can’t… *control*…" Judy pants, every frantic thrust deeper now, anchored by that tight, wet suction sealing them together. Her hips snap faster—blurring gray fur against peach skin—as rabbit instincts override police discipline. "*Ah!* Feels like… drowning… in velvet…"

Jessica gasps, clawing at Judy’s shoulders. Words dissolve: "J-Judy..." Her breath hitches—a wet, choked sob—as Judy’s clit grinds hard against her swollen folds. The pressure builds, coiling tighter… tighter… "Little bunny… I’m gonna…" Her thighs clench around Judy’s waist, legs digging into the rabbit’s trembling lower back. "**Now!**" Jessica arches violently off the sheets, spine bowing like a drawn bowstring. A guttural cry tears from her throat as her climax detonates—warm, clear ink gushing in thick pulses between their sealed pussies. It floods the space between them—slick, electric—a shimmering cascade that soaks Judy’s gray fur thighs. Jessica’s voice cracks: "S-see? **Stars…**"

Judy doesn’t slow. Doesn’t stop. She drives her hips harder—frantic pistons—riding the slick flood. "Good," Judy rasps, sweat dripping onto Jessica’s heaving chest as she grinds deep into the shuddering aftershocks. Her own wetness mixes with Jessica’s—hotter, sharper—pulsing against the taller woman’s swollen core. "But **I’m** not done." Her claws dig into Jessica’s hips—sharp, anchoring points—as she slams faster. "Want… **more**..."

Jessica moans, limp and trembling beneath the onslaught—eyes unfocused hearts—as Judy’s thrusts turn jagged, desperate. “Stars, bunny...nngh...it’s *too much*…!” Her voice cracks, slick palms sliding weakly against Judy’s sweat-slicked shoulders. “Feels… like lightning…!”

“Shh,” Judy grits out, hips pistoning—a blur of gray fur against flushed peach skin. Her own breath saws ragged in her throat. “Almost… there…” She grinds harder, deeper, pressing Jessica into the mattress until the toon woman whimpers—a sound like tearing silk. “You feel that?” Judy pants against Jessica’s skin, her claws digging crescent moons into Jessica’s hipbones. “How deep… I’ve got you?”

Jessica arches, spine taut as a bowstring. “Y-yes! *God*, Judy—!” Her cry shatters as Judy slams her pelvis down one final time—sealing them impossibly tighter. Warmth floods Jessica, thick and sudden—Judy’s climax surging deep inside her, pulsing rhythmically against her swollen walls. It spills past their sealed folds, slick ink dripping onto the sheets. Jessica’s eyes flutter—cartoon hearts spinning wildly. “F-feels… like… poured moonlight…”

Judy trembles above her, hips grinding in slow, exhausted circles. “Moonlight?” she rasps, voice scraped raw. She looks down—purple eyes wide—watching her own wetness seep from Jessica’s core. “Thought… it’d feel like ink.” Her thumb brushes the sticky trail on Jessica’s inner thigh.

Jessica catches Judy’s wrist. “Yours is… milky,” she murmurs, lifting trembling fingers coated in Judy’s pearlescent release. She offers them to Judy’s lips. “Taste.” Judy hesitates only a second—then suckles Jessica’s fingers clean, eyelids fluttering as her own flavor bursts on her tongue.

“Sweet?” Jessica breathes, sliding her damp thumb along Judy’s lower lip.

“Salty,” Judy corrects huskily, biting gently. “Like… ocean wind.”

(The next day.)

Jessica traced the headline with a lacquered fingertip, her voice still thick with sleep-sandpaper. "‘Rabbit Rampage Rocks Red Carpet’... darling, they made your ears positively *phallic* in this sketch." She shifted beneath Judy, the pool chair groaning under their combined weight as sunlight danced diamond patterns across turquoise water. "Positively scandalous."

Judy squinted at the caricature—her cartoonishly exaggerated hips spilling from the sparkly blue dress, one ear coiled suggestively around a microphone stand. "It’s the ears they always get wrong," she grumbled, shifting her weight on Jessica’s lap. The taller woman’s peach skin radiated warmth against her bare gray fur, still humming from last night’s friction. "They forget they bend." Her own cotton-candy-pink bikini bottoms felt damp where their skin met—poolside humidity or leftover slickness, she couldn’t tell.

Jessica chuckled, the vibration resonating through Judy’s lower back. "Darling, they made my cleavage look like two overinflated zeppelins." She tapped the front-page photo where her red sequins strained perilously. "Though," her lips brushed Judy’s twitching ear-tip, breath hot as desert wind, "you didn’t complain about *my* proportions last night." Her palm slid down Judy’s belly, fingertips tracing the dip below her navel—a feather-light touch that sparked embers low in Judy’s hips.

Judy squirmed, pressing her thighs together. The memory of Jessica’s mouth there—slow, deliberate—flooded her senses: salt-musk, the suction that made her toes curl, the way Jessica’s fingers had tangled in her fur like reins. "Yeah? Well, *I* didn’t complain when those zeppelins blocked out the sun," she muttered, grabbing Jessica’s wandering wrist. "Stop distracting me."

"Aren’t you supposed to be protecting me, *Officer*?" Jessica’s voice dipped low, thumb circling the delicate fur inside Judy’s wrist. Her other hand drifted lower still, fingertips grazing the damp seam of Judy’s bikini bottoms. "This seems more like… unlawful confinement."

Judy flinched as that touch ignited a spark low in her belly—bright and insistent despite last night’s marathon. Her own hand flew down, pinning Jessica’s against her hip. "Case closed," she growled, pulse hammering under Jessica’s thumb. "Perp’s hands stay *here*."

Jessica’s laugh rumbled through Judy’s spine—rich, dangerous. "Such a fierce little officer," she murmured, breath hot against Judy’s neck-fur. Her thumb traced slow circles where Judy’s bikini bottoms met thigh-fur. "But I recall... last night... you enjoyed my trespassing." She nipped Judy’s shoulder lightly. "Loved the invasion."

Judy’s ear twitched against Jessica’s cheek. "That was—nngh—*private property*," she retorted, shifting her hips to clamp down on Jessica’s wandering fingers. The trapped digits pulsed warmth against her sensitive inner thigh. "This is a private pool." Below them, Jessica’s arousal pooled damp against Judy’s tailbone—subtle musk mingling with chlorine.

Jessica hummed, low and resonant. "Yet here you are," she teased, nodding toward the newspaper’s lurid sketch—Judy’s ink-black tail lifted coyly above scandalous hip curves. "Front page, bunny." Her free hand slid higher, tracing the furrow of Judy’s spine. "Your public awaits…"

Judy snorted, shifting against the damp heat pooling beneath her. "They’ll get parking tickets and polite nods." Her voice hitched as Jessica’s thumb grazed the sensitive dip above her bikini line—a phantom echo of last night’s suction. "Not whatever this is."

The end.
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The Love of Ladies Behind Locked Doors.