AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64762915/chapters/166415260

Window Shopper Chapter 1

“Scram, rugrats,” you groan, shooing away a gaggle of giggling tweens. “Peep show’s over. Go make someone else’s job harder.”

“Boomer spotted!” a young fox says while sneaking in a quick snapshot of your scowling face.
As they scurry off to go cause mayhem in another part of the mall, you curse under your breath.

“…Never having kids…”

It seems your coworker overheard your comment even after all the commotion.
“You won’t be very popular with girls with that kind of attitude,” she says.
You spin around to face your coworker, Violet. >You call her your coworker, but in actuality, she’s your boss.
Her casual demeanor certainly does not make it feel that way.
That’s perfectly fine for you, since you wouldn’t mind getting to know her a little better.
Violet is a tall, leggy possum anthro who dresses the part for the establishment.
Her black, painfully tight jeans give you a peek of her white fur, and a pair of dull, well-loved combat boots gives her a few inches of height. >She usually wears some dark-colored shirt emblazoned with a band she’s a fan of.
It’s not exactly modest, but you have a feeling that she shows off a lot more fur outside the workplace.
You’d love to see it, and you’re pretty confident she wouldn’t mind showing you.
She’s got more than a few ear piercings and some on her muzzle, but her body piercings are the ones you’re interested in.
Violet is definitely freaky enough to have a clit piercing.
She’s a few years older than you, but you have no doubt she’s been fucking like a demon for years.
It really is tragic that she’s your boss.
Maybe someday she’ll trust you enough to keep a secret.
Truly, you’d call her a goth goddess. She fits into the awful, kitschy little store you call your home.

Spencer’s “Gifts.”

Shooting back a retort to your coworker, you reiterate your dislike of the underage mallrats that love to ransack the store.

(1/10)

“I think I’ll pass on any women that spawn creatures like these,” you argue. “Don’t tell me you want kids…”

“Mmm, with the right guy…” she says as she lifts a finger to her lips.
GOD, you love and hate it when she smiles at you like that.
The catty (possum-y?) bitch knows exactly what she’s doing.
Dirty, dirty girl.
“Anyways…” she says. “Don’t be too hard on them. They’re just curious and trying to have a little fun.”

“I was curious as a kid, too, but there’s this thing called the internet for that.”

“I bet you have a lot of experience with that.”

“Very funny. You should do stand up.”

“I know,” she replies. “You don’t have to tell me how funny and beautiful I am!”
Violet strikes a pose, brushing back her dyed black hair.

“Seriously, though,” you say. “They really need to find something better to do. Isn’t it a school day?”

“Well, some of them are just goofing off after class,” she answers. “…But some of them are latchkey kids. Have you seen how late some of them stay at the mall?”
You feel a little bad when she puts it that way.

“Yeah, it is a shame.”

The possum looks a little sad, possibly sympathetic as she continues.
“It’s not easy to grow up like that, you know.”

“Speaking from experience?” you ask.

“I was a bona-fide mallrat myself back in the day. Not like a pretty young thing like you would know anything about that.”

“Vi, you’re 24. We would’ve been in high school together.”

“Still a kid to me, except for where it counts!” she jokes. “But no, really, Anon. It’s good for the kids here. There’s a lot less trouble for them to get into here. Trust me.”
You raise an eyebrow at the thought.

“Now I wanna know what kind of trouble you got into…”

“Keep buttering me up and maybe you’ll find out,” she says, not so subtly pushing her chest out as she “stretches.”
Yep, they’re pierced, as expected.

(2/10)

She REALLY knows how to skirt the line of what’s appropriate, regardless of how welcome the attention is.
“Anyways, I hate to have to boss you around again, but do you think you can scope out the damage in Sex and Wellness?” she asks.

“The little boogers probably got their sticky fingers ALL over the toys…” you groan.

Violet starts to walk off with a wave.
“Bring the Lysol!” she says. “I’ll be out in the lot ‘doing my counts’ if you need me!”
By that, she means she’s going to smoke up next to the dumpsters.
She’s fairly responsible, so you definitely don’t have a problem with it.
What you do have a problem with is the aftermath of what those child-shaped tornadoes did to the adult goods section in the back.
You close your eyes as you approach to delay the horror you’re about to be subjected to.
You have to tiptoe through strewn about lingerie, flavored condoms, and sex toys for all genders.
Unfortunately, you aren’t quite careful enough as you feel something pop under your sole.
It’s one of those single-serving packets of lube.
That’s going to be a LOT of fun to clean off the floor.
You walk much more carefully, so that you don’t slip onto your ass, and you’re met with a strange sight.
It seems you didn’t scare off all the kids.
Maybe she hid, or maybe she snuck in while you were flirting with the boss.
This one, though, is a little strange, to say the least.
Usually the kids just point and laugh at all the dildos, sword fight, or in the cases that even you enjoy, chuck them at each other’s heads at full force.
This girl is the kind that’s the real uncomfortable type to deal with.
Completely silent, she’s holding one of your larger models, a premium toy with a hole in the packaging so that you can feel the “lifelike texture.”
Without even blinking or breathing, she strokes at it’s surface with a dainty fingertip.

(3/10)

She’s absolutely entranced by the plastic phallus. Time to snap this horny brat back into reality.

“Having fun?” you ask, shooting her an annoyed frown.

The girl yelps, dropping the entire package onto the ground.
She spins towards you, starting to tremble as she stutters out an apology.
“I-I’m sorry…” she says, almost pleading.
You feel bad from the pathetic display, but annoyance wins out in the end.

“It’s a lot of work to pick up after all this mess, you know,” you tell her.

“I-I wasn’t the one who did it, though…”

“Mmmhmm. I’m sure you weren’t,” you sigh as you pick up the fallen adult novelties.

“It’s my f-fault, though,” she explains, causing you to pause and get a good look at her.
The girl is a little canine, a husky in particular.
She’s definitely the runt of the litter, and a late bloomer to boot.
She barely comes up to your chest, and her own chest has barely started to come in.
She’s got a rather handsome coat pattern, red on white, her expressive white eyebrows drooping in shame.
In contrast to her lovely coat pattern, her short hair is dyed a tacky cyan.
It’s an eyesore, even more so with the contrasting colors.
The little pup’s ears are pinned to her head, and when you look at her eyes, you realize you may have been a bit too harsh.
Her mismatched ice blue and hazel eyes are welling up with tears, and the slightest provocation will burst the dam.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

Trying her best to avoid your gaze, she picks up the toy she dropped and tries to replace it onto the shelf.
“They-they followed me in here because-because maybe it’s kind of weird to look at this stuff…” she stutters. “The other girls like to joke around a lot, j-just a little rougher… Just a little bit of teasing…”
The poor girl isn’t even convincing herself that she’s getting bullied to all hell, her hands shaking so hard that she drops the sex aid again.
“Haha… Whoops…”
The husky gives you a shaky smile.

(4/10)

“It’s fine, I got it,” you assure her.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” she says, picking up another one. “I-I’ll help you out, to make up for it.”

“I’d rather you not,” you say. “This is awkward enough already.”

“OK,” she says plainly, dropping the toy on the shelf.
Normally, you’d think that would be a good cue to leave, but she simply stands and watches you clean up the mess.
You’re already almost done picking up everything, but it seems the canine can’t stand the silence and tries her best to make some small talk.
“Umm, do you like working here?” she asks.

“Not particularly,” you admit. “Better than a lot of other places I’ve worked, though.”

She starts to fidget again before blurting out another question.
“Are, uh, all humans as big as…” she says as she points to a comically large dildo. “…T-t-that?”
You hang the last set of edible panties on the wall and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I really don’t know if I should answer that,” you admit. “But no, they are not.”

“That’s good,” she replies, seemingly easing some deep-seated worry.
Dusting off your pants, you start to walk back to the counter.

“Alright, I’m done here,” you announce. “You should really stay out of this section.”

“OK,” she replies obediently.
You lean next to the cash register, pulling out your phone to burn some time.
However, to your displeasure, the pint-sized pup trots up to the other side of the counter.
Now that you’re closer to the bright lights of the mall’s corridors, you really get to see how strange the creature that wandered into your shop is.
Unsurprisingly, she dresses just as odd as she acts.
You’d swear she time-travelled from the chaotic years of the 00s if you were going off her clothes.
She’s wearing a set of canvas sneakers “customized” with Sharpies, clashing awfully with two mismatched striped kneesocks.
Almost all of her legs are covered by a jean skirt, the hem tattered as if she tore it with her teeth herself.

(5/10)

Her shirt is even worse, a black tee that unironically has the text “RAWR!” silk-screened on the front.
The gloves are awful too, striped, elbow length, and fingerless.
And around her neck…

Oh God…

You would recognize that headband anywhere.
The bright metal plate has the crest of the Uzumaki clan.
In short, she looks like a Hot Topic vomited all over her.
“Ahh, umm…” the tiny weeblet stammers. “I thought you were going to get really mad at me. Thanks!”

“Mmmhmm,” you hum, ignoring her.

Several minutes pass as you scroll mindlessly, the dog never taking her eyes off you for a moment.
Finally you get fed up and address her.

“So, can I help you, or…?”

“No,” she says plainly.
You just stare at her for a good 30 seconds, all while she shoots you a glittery smile, her tail wagging slowly side-to-side.

“Why don’t you go hang out with your friends, or something?”

Her tail stops wagging.
“I don’t have any friends-” she cuts herself off abruptly. “-I mean, my friends already went home…”

“Oh, that sucks,” you say.

Another awkward pause later, you start to fish around in your pocket.
You’re really starting to pity the kid, so you’ll do something a little nice for her.

“I’ll tell you what, kiddo,” you say as you pull out a crumpled 20 dollar bill. “Why don’t you take this and go to the arcade or something? I got work to do.”

She hesitates to take the money, seemingly in shock.
“W-what?” she asks. “This is like a whole months’s worth of allowance!”

“Take it,” you insist. “It’s for helping me out, or something.”

“If you say so,” she says, shyly rubbing her thighs together in nervousness. “Thank you, A-Anon!”
Your brow wrinkles in confusion.

“How’d you know my name?”

“It’s on your shirt.”

“Oh. Yeah, that,” you say. “Anyway, go have some fun.”

“Buh-buh-b-bye,” she sputters. “Anon.”
As soon as you blink, the eccentric little puppy is gone.

(6/10)

You wouldn’t exactly call her a headache, but you are very glad that’s over with.
If she comes back some other day, hopefully Violet can entertain her.
That woman is surprisingly good with kids.
Speaking of her, it looks like you found some posts of her Florida vacation.
VERY nice.
“What are you lookin’ at, Anon?” Violet says as she sneaks up behind you.
You feel your heart leap into your throat, but you manage to play it cool as you look back over your shoulder.
She’s grinning like a Cheshire cat, but you decide to fib regardless.

“You know, doomscrolling, the usual.”

“If you say so, Anon,” she replies cheekily. “So how were things while I was gone? Nothing too bad, I hope?”
You grimace and give her the 1000-yard stare.

“Don’t even get me started. I mean it. Don’t get me started.”

“That bad?” she coos. “Aww, poor guy. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”
You can think of more than a few ways, but unfortunately, none of them come to fruition that night.

The next morning, it’s back to the grind.
Another day, another dollar.
It’s not quite enough dollars, but at least the bills are paid.
You and Violet trade the usual, frustrating flirty banter until she excuses herself later that afternoon.
Her timing could not be worse.
Your little customer from the day before has returned yet again, peeking over the counter.
Is that the same shirt from yesterday?
“Hi, Anon,” she greets you quietly.

“Hey, kid,” you reply.

“My name is Sakari,” she tells you.
You feel a bit of a headache coming on.

“Yeah, sure…” you reply. “So, are you gonna buy anything, or…?”

“No. I’m just looking.”
Sakari stays at the counter, peering at you with her heterochromatic eyes.

“Do you need help finding something?” you ask, a bit unnerved. “Is it something behind the counter?”

“Yes,” she replies.

“What are you looking at?”

Her tail starts wagging faster, her entire rear swaying side to side.
“Y-you!” she says in a harsh whisper. “I-I like you!”
Hoo boy.

(7/10)

This is how life repays a good deed.

“Sure, thanks,” you say dismissively. “So are you going to buy anything?”

The little husky isn’t listening, covering her face in shame while her tail goes wild.
“I can’t believe I said it!” she whines. “S-so, Anon, w-w-will you be my boyfriend?”

“No.”

Her tail instantly freezes.
“W-why not?” she asks, her lip trembling. “I mean, you wouldn’t have been so nice to me if you didn’t like me…”
You almost instinctively say that you were just trying to get her out of your hair, but that’d just be cruel.
In all truth, she wasn’t annoying you that much.
Today, however…

“Just because someone does a nice thing doesn’t mean they like you like that,” you explain. “You were just having a rough day, and well, maybe I wanted to try and make it a little better…”

“Anon…” she whimpers.

“…And there’s a lot of other reasons that can’t happen either,” you continue. “I’m way too old for you, kid.”

Some sort of realization crosses her face, but probably not the one you wanted.
She covers her face bashfully, bashfully hiding a grin.
“Oh, so that’s why…” she says. “It’s okay, Anon. I think older guys are hot.”

“…And I like older women,” you reply with a certain one in mind.

She’s left speechless from frustration as you lock eyes.
Several moments pass before she gathers some unexpected determination.
“I’m not leaving until you’re my boyfriend,” she states clearly.

“Closing time is at 9,” you reply.

She pouts angrily at the counter as you ignore her for over an hour, and you find yourself a bit surprised at her resolve.
This is genuinely starting to become a pain, so you’ll try and play a gambit.

“We don’t allow loitering here, you know,” you inform her.

“Fine!” she huffs, stomping away to a jewelry display case. “I’m looking at the earrings.”
She most certainly is not.
More accurately, she’s hiding behind the display case and peeking around the corner at you.

(8/10)

Fortunately for you, your salvation, your angel has finally returned from her break.
“How’s my favorite little Anon doing?” Violet asks as she lazily saunters back in. “I’m not workin’ you TOO hard, am I?”
She punctuates her statement with a playful hip check.
Your frustration melts away for a moment.
If it wasn’t for the “perks” of this job…
Your little exchange gets interrupted as Violet raises an eyebrow as she looks over at the jewelry case.
“What’s with the, uhh…?”
Reality has come crashing down yet again.

“It’s a long story,” you reply despondently. “A very, very long story.”

“I’ll go check on the little lady,” she says.
Looking into the young dog’s eyes, you’re shocked by the pure, unbridled hate radiating from them.
If looks could kill, Violet would be dead several times over.
Cool as a cucumber, she approaches the little pup to talk to her.
“Hey, you doin’ alright?” she asks.
“Grrrrrrr…” the husky growls back.
“Oh, scary,” she jokes, sticking out her tongue in a fittingly possum-like manner. “Well, if you wanna be friends, I promise I’m not that mean. Until then, I’ll just let you do… that.”
Even Violet’s best efforts failed, at least for now. Upon returning, she states the obvious.
“I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“You think?”

“We’ll see if I can win her around later,” she says, unbothered. “I hate to leave you alone again, but I gotta crunch some numbers.”

“Sure thing, Vi,” you reply.

As she disappears into the office, Sakari watches her like a hawk.
The second she leaves, her face cools a bit, but she’s obviously still steamed.
“Is-is she your girlfriend?” she asks.

“She’s my boss…” you answer.

“But is she your girlfriend?” the husky asks again.

“No, she’s my boss. She can’t be my girlfriend.”

“That’s right. She’s not allowed to be your girlfriend.”

“Haha… Yeah…” you reply, the truth stinging.

The girl seems a bit pleased at the small victory, but is still bothered by something.

(9/10)

“But you like her, right?” she continues.

“Well, uhh…”

She comes stomping up to the counter, fuming.
“If you can’t be HER boyfriend, why can’t you be mine?”

“I already told you-”

“If you don’t-I’ll-I’ll!”
She’s seriously pissed and you’re actually worried for a moment.
Sucking in a large lungful of air, she unleashes a cry that your virgin ears could never be prepared for.
“-aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEOOOWWWOOOWEEEOOOAAAAA!!!”
How is such a small creature so fucking loud?!
You’ve heard of the dreaded husky tantrum, but it is 10 times worse than what you would have imagined.
Wild-eyed, she thrusts her muzzle in the air to continue her sonic terrorism.
“AWAOOWAWAWA-”

“Stop! Stop!” you beg, grabbing the girl by her shoulders. “Seriously! I’ll have to kick you out!”

She stops, looking a bit embarassed by her outburst.

“You don’t want that, right…?” you struggle to recall her name. “…Sakari?”

“No,” she pouts.

“Yeah, I don’t want to have to call over the security guard either, so let’s calm down, OK?”

“Security guard?” she asks.

“Yeah, it’s not fun,” you assure her.

She has completely calmed down, a slight smirk on her face.
“Anon,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“If you won’t be my boyfriend,” she explains.

“I’ll tell the security guard that you touched my boobies…”

If you doubted it before, now you truly understand.
You really, REALLY hate kids.

(10/10)

Edit Report
Pub: 06 Apr 2025 10:56 UTC
Edit: 16 Apr 2025 23:48 UTC
Views: 748