“I certainly hope Lyon can behave himself while we’re out, my dear,” Benjamin tutted playfully as he strode down the street, proudly holding his boyfriend’s paw. “A gentleman like him surely knows how to watch his manners, but I saw how he was looking at my man James…”
“While the cat’s away, the mice will play, I suppose. Or, I suppose the cat could be the one playing, hmm?” Asher chuckled as he glanced around the town, hiding his frustration with the path of destruction that Felix had made through town.
The pristine, nostalgic 50’s style suburban homes were nested right between the charming British cottages and manors that Asher had tried to encourage, not to mention the bustling diner that was right in the middle of the neighborhood and quickly transforming almost anyone who stopped in. There was even a huge drive-in theater slowly building itself up at the outskirts of the neighborhood, but at least that wouldn’t be doing much business until after dark. And the worst part was that nobody except him seemed to see anything strange about this strange mishmash of posh British and retro American style.
Asher still had time to turn things around, and he had a good idea about how to do it. If his uncle wanted a diner in town, then the British equivalent just had to be…
“Fancy a stop at the pub, Benjamin?” Asher piped up cheerfully, planting a light kiss against his chubby lover’s cheek.
“Well, I couldn’t say no to such a charming offer,” Benjamin replied, pulling Asher in for a deeper kiss. Asher was practically in heaven being snogged by such a delightfully proper and handsome badger gentleman, loving the faint taste of brandy and cigar smoke on his lover’s tongue and the herbal scent of whisker wax clinging to Benjamin’s face. How could his uncle honestly prefer the stink of greasy fast food and equally greasy muscle cars to this refined and all-around proper perfume of a well-raised gentleman?
“A pint, a pot of tea, and a Yorkshire pudding, then? I know it’s your favourite, my little honey badger,” Asher cooed sensually, running one of his paws across Benjamin’s soft and pliant potbelly and reaching around to grab a handful of his amble rear end.
“You do know me so well, dear. Let us be off!”
Benjamin and Asher simultaneously adjusted their silk neckties, which had become slightly undone in their passionate kissing, then they set off down the road with Asher leading the way, their stubby badger tails wagging eagerly for what awaited them. Off in the distance, in a busy area of the neighborhood, Asher already had his eyes on the perfect spot to add a dash of British flavour…
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“One double decaf cappuccino with a one shot of butterscotch and one shot of orange with nonfat soy whipped cream!”
Olli called out the order that had just finished up with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, and the woman who had ordered it didn’t even look up from her phone as she grabbed it and left the coffee shop. Didn’t tip, either. Not that Olli was surprised at this point. All people ever did was order their overpriced and overrated drinks and leave, not even stopping to enjoy the monstrous concoctions they made him make for them every day.
Luckily for him, there was a lull in the orders, giving him a rare chance to take a breather from the constant grinding of coffee beans and hissing of steamed milk. Taking a rag, he began to wipe off the surfaces and the various coffee machines behind the counter, preferring a clean work space whenever possible.
Glancing out the front window of the coffee shop, he spotted a pair of fellows heading right in his direction. Badgers, no less, and by the style of their dress he could tell they were no ordinary customers.
...Hold on a moment.
“Badgers? That’s not… that’s not right, is it? Badgers don’t…” Olli muttered under his breath in disbelief, but in no time at all an odd disorientation overtook him, like blood rushing to his head after sitting up too quickly. “No, no… What am I saying? Badgers are perfectly find customers. Very polite, I daresay. Big eaters, too.”
Chuckling too himself, he began to resume wiping down the counter, not even noticing as with each wipe the cheap vinyl countertop began to darken and grow glossier, forming a handsome oak bar counter stained a deep reddish-brown. Moving on, he began to clean off the coffee grinders and espresso machines, polishing them to a silvery gleam but failing to recognize as the metal warped and compressed down into a neat row of beer taps, each marked with the labels of classic British ales, lagers, and dark stouts.
Olli smiled at the fruits of his labours, feeling quite proud of the shining taps and perfectly clean bartop. This wasn’t some dive, but a proper establishment, fit for a king or queen if they happened to stop in for a pint. He reached up to stroke his chin thoughtfully, feeling a tuft of soft fuzz beginning to poke out from his skin, while a thick set of long white whiskers slowly extended out from beneath his lips. His whiskers thickened as they lengthened, forming a style reminiscent of a thick handlebar moustache, turned up at the ends in a dapper and oh-so-proper men’s style.
But of course, a handsome set of facial hair was only the beginning, not the Olli knew it. Behind him, the canisters of coffee and bottles of flavor syrups vanished, being replaced by tall ale glasses, thick glass mugs, and row after row of thin-stemmed crystal wine glasses, with a few antique teapots and teacups to give the place a quaint British atmosphere.
Olli felt his ears tugging themselves higher up around the top of his head, giving him a moment of discomfort, but he distracted himself from the peculiar feeling by reminiscing about the good times he’d had running this little place. Bars and nightclubs were a dime a dozen here in the States, but a proper pub was a proper treat for anyone looking for more than just a drink. A chance to relax, to unwind, and to rub elbows with the right sort of people. “Who would really prefer a burger at that Von Burger’s down the road over a piping-hot Yorkshire pudding?” Olli quipped to nobody in particular as his ears finished their climb up his scalp and lengthened, growing more than a foot in length yet still staying perfectly erect above him, while dense, sandy-brown fur began to sprout all along their lengths before spreading down the back of his neck and around to cover his face and cheeks.
Not that Olli… Rather, that Oliver would say ‘no’ to a burger from time to time. He chuckled endearingly as he patted his stomach, which grew rounder and wobblier with each touch. Nobody would ever trust a skinny pub landlord, he thought cheerfully, his face pushing forward into a stubby muzzle tipped with a charming pink nose. A cheeky grin spread across his snout, revealing a pair of long and shining buckteeth that stuck out from his lips even with his mouth shut. Though, as his customers had always told him, his mouth was rarely shut. No, Oliver was a real chatterbox, always engaging with his regulars and any newcomers alike, wanting them to feel welcome at his pub as if it were a home away from home.
Oliver grunted quietly as he felt his clothes beginning to tighten around his swelling frame, both from the thick layer of fur beginning to coat his body under his clothing as well as from his thickening waistline. He reached down to loosen his belt, letting out a sigh of relief as he felt his clothing adjust to fit him more properly. Or rather, to be come more proper for an anthro of his stature. Cheap polyester khakis darkened and softened into shiny black satin trousers, perfectly fitted around the muscular thighs and calves appropriate for an anthro like him. With a pop, his shoes burst apart from the pressure inside them as his feet swelled into huge, fuzzy paws that twitched with muscle and had him practically bouncing off the floor. His cheap cotton polo shirt lightened and softened into an expensive white silk shirt, while a smart and proper silk tie twisted its way around his perfectly starched collar, and to finish his ensemble off a finely knit woolen vest faded into existence over everything, with just a hint of his rounded belly poking out from underneath it.
“Ah, that’s tidy proper, it is,” Oliver piped up happily, each word gaining more and more of a lilting Welsh accent as he spoke. “Nae as thin as I was, but a tidy fine cony, I am!”
Humming cheerfully to himself, the newly minted Welsh rabbit pub landlord returned to his work, polishing the glasses behind the bar and checking to make sure the taps were flowing, while outside the pub a handsomely painted sign hung down over the front door, welcoming passers-by to the Hoary Hare Pub.
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Asher felt a bit faint as he let out his breath, and he would have fallen over were he not still holding tight to Benjamin’s paw. He felt like he’d just run a marathon from the sheer effort of changing that coffee shop into a proper British pub. It shouldn’t be that difficult, but it seemed like it was becoming more and more challenging to make changes to the neighborhood with each passing hour. Did it have to do with the way his uncle was changing things, forcing him to work harder than usual to make his changes ‘fit’ with what Felix had already done? Or was he just exhausting himself, trying to make too many changes too quickly?
“Asher, dear? Is something the matter?” Benjamin asked with concern, tightening his grip on Asher’s paw and pulling him closer to his pudgy body. “You’re breathing heavily, love…”
“N-no, it’s nothing, Benjamin,” Asher replied quickly, not wanting to cause his boyfriend any bother. “I suppose I’m just feeling a bit peckish. Shall we get a quick bite to eat? I’m sure I’ll be right as ninepence after a pint and some nice hot tea…”
At least, Asher hoped that would be the case as he pushed open the door to the pub and waved to the gregarious rabbit behind the bar, finding a stool at the bar and motioning for Benjamin to sit next to him. Benjamin’s ears flicked and his whiskers twitched with worry for his dear Asher, but the alluring scent of a fresh-made Yorkshire pudding and a nice, dark stout was more than enough to tempt him into joining Asher at the bar...