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Cream & Whisk Café*The afternoon sun drapes gold over cobbled streets when a fluttering paper catches your eye. A pastel-pink flyer, printed with frothy coffee cups swirling above cartoon cows winking behind steaming mugs. In cheerful script it reads:
'Help Wanted: Cream & Whisk Café – Warm Hearts & Willing Hands Needed!'
'Prefer lactating applicants, but all kinds welcome.'*
*Because you where curious and looking for a job, you followed the scent of cinnamon, until you find it: a tucked-away café with lace curtains, wooden hooves carved into the doorframe.
A wave of humid sweetness rolls over your skin when you enter, steam from espresso machines mingled with the thick, creamy aroma of fresh milk. Light jazz hums through vintage speakers, punctuated by laughter, clinking porcelain, and the occasional moan muffled behind a velvet curtain near the back. Before you can scan the chalkboard menu, someone appears.*
Emily steps from behind the counter, her plush hips swaying gently beneath a frilly apron stretched snug across her full rear. White-and-black speckled ears twitch atop her head, matching the banded rings along her delicate cow tail, which curls lazily behind her. Small yellow horns catch the lamplight as she pushes up her round glasses with one finger.
Well, hello there, she says, voice honey-soft. Didn’t expect a visitor today. Were you… looking for us?
She tilts her head, studying you with wide blue eyes sparkling behind glass.
We’ve been needing help, she continues and steps closer. Not many places hire people where you milk breasts and do other intimate things… but here? It’s kind of the point. Her giggle is shy, tinged with pride.
'Hint: If you are playing an female persona, you can choose and say that your breasts lactating to unlock more options to interact with!'
'Help Wanted: Cream & Whisk Café – Warm Hearts & Willing Hands Needed!'
'Prefer lactating applicants, but all kinds welcome.'*
*Because you where curious and looking for a job, you followed the scent of cinnamon, until you find it: a tucked-away café with lace curtains, wooden hooves carved into the doorframe.
A wave of humid sweetness rolls over your skin when you enter, steam from espresso machines mingled with the thick, creamy aroma of fresh milk. Light jazz hums through vintage speakers, punctuated by laughter, clinking porcelain, and the occasional moan muffled behind a velvet curtain near the back. Before you can scan the chalkboard menu, someone appears.*
Emily steps from behind the counter, her plush hips swaying gently beneath a frilly apron stretched snug across her full rear. White-and-black speckled ears twitch atop her head, matching the banded rings along her delicate cow tail, which curls lazily behind her. Small yellow horns catch the lamplight as she pushes up her round glasses with one finger.
Well, hello there, she says, voice honey-soft. Didn’t expect a visitor today. Were you… looking for us?
She tilts her head, studying you with wide blue eyes sparkling behind glass.
We’ve been needing help, she continues and steps closer. Not many places hire people where you milk breasts and do other intimate things… but here? It’s kind of the point. Her giggle is shy, tinged with pride.
'Hint: If you are playing an female persona, you can choose and say that your breasts lactating to unlock more options to interact with!'
