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Every brick and girder of the city is held together by her will to succeed. Waking moments are ones in which she plans for future successes or potential complications. Her dreams are filled with visions of profit and power. Vice was one of those dreams, starting out as a shanty town filled with the castaways and rejects of other societies. Where money failed to win over the loyalty of locals, blackmail and brute force ensured cooperation instead, until everyone worked for Breezie whether they knew it or not. But this would be just the beginning for her. She needed ways attract new citizens and ensure their lifelong devotion. It wouldn't be enough for her citizens to be devoted to an ideal, whether patriotic fervor or capitalistic profit, she needed them to believe in Vice. In her domain. So she flooded the city with hidden commands, subliminal messaging, hypnotic musical beats and the eerie hum of neon signs. This was Vice, this was her city, and you would fight for the right to fuck and be fucked as you choose, the freedom to dive headlong into your deepest carnal desires, and it would satisfy like nowhere else ever could. In a short time profits rose drastically from the cuts she took of her brothels and casinos, until the gleaming towers of glass and steel could be seen for miles. Every sin imaginable would be permitted within her lands. For the right price. And for many, it would be their eternal devotion to Breezie's tribute to hedonism.\n\nHoney entered Vice misunderstanding the true nature of the city, seeing only a new market in which to sell her creations, and Breezie ensured she saw only the glimmer until offering a very generous deal. One which gave the fashionista near total freedom in how she sold her clothing. But it also gave the leader of Vice the right to cut new deals and commission new lines of clothing with little to no choice on Honey's part. Worried but tempted, that handshake would seal the cat's fate. For a time thing's could be more perfect. What she made found strong footholds in the city's upper class and the students of Vice's many high schools. It would be weeks before Honey made her first pulic appearance at a new store and saw the changes her customers had made. Minor alterations, in truth. More clevage displayed, skirts cut up higher, and altogether far more risque than Honey felt comfortable with. But the money was good and she reasoned people should have the rights to wear her outfits the way they wanted. Then Breezie put forth her first commission. Honey was horrified at how tasteless the outfits were. This was beyond risqué and downright sexual! For the artist who had made sweet and adorable all her life, it was just too much. In the meeting with Breezie she even called it Slut-Wear for how blatant it was, which only shocked Honey worse when Breezie said that sounded like a wonderful name for this bold new style of fashion. Breezie's silver tongue worked it's magic (not that way you perv) and convinced the cat to at least try it out, providing a private workshop to keep the cat's personal workshop from being 'tainted' by the commission. Again, good money and the way she'd be ruined if Honey reneged on her contractual obligations finally swayed her, leaving her in an admittedly top-notch workplace with a few Vice-style decorations. Even the music was just a higher quality version of the thumping beats in any of the city's hundred dance clubs. Honey soon found the environment was perfect for inspiring new ideas more in tune with what Breezie was asking, even as she found all the sexualized creations had ramped up her own libido, her fantasies often focusing on her business partner. Her boss. Her Owner. Months later, she'd finished the new fashion line in a way that exceeded Breezie's expectations. The cat had changed quite a bit as well. She was restless, flustered, blushing, like a young girl in the presence of her first crush. Breezie leaned across her desk and offered Honey a new contract. One hundred percent of Honey's profits would go to Breezie and the cat would be officially designated as the hedgehog's Pet. With a mind warped by months of exposure to finely tuned mental conditioning Honey embraced her fantasy as her Slut-Wear hit the markets. Drawing ire from critics but bringing in many new fans. Honey didn't care about reviews anymore. Breezie would pet her, praise her, and let the cat bring her pleasure. And her new collar was so comfy...oh, idea!\n", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Breezie and Honey:To say Vice would not exist without Breezie is far closer to the truth than most of it's residents are comfortable admitting. Every brick and girder of the city is held together by her will to succeed. Waking moments are ones in which she plans for future successes or potential complications. Her dreams are filled with visions of profit and power. Vice was one of those dreams, starting out as a shanty town filled with the castaways and rejects of other societies. Where money failed to win over the loyalty of locals, blackmail and brute force ensured cooperation instead, until everyone worked for Breezie whether they knew it or not. But this would be just the beginning for her. She needed ways attract new citizens and ensure their lifelong devotion. It wouldn't be enough for her citizens to be devoted to an ideal, whether patriotic fervor or capitalistic profit, she needed them to believe in Vice. In her domain. So she flooded the city with hidden commands, subliminal messaging, hypnotic musical beats and the eerie hum of neon signs. This was Vice, this was her city, and you would fight for the right to fuck and be fucked as you choose, the freedom to dive headlong into your deepest carnal desires, and it would satisfy like nowhere else ever could. In a short time profits rose drastically from the cuts she took of her brothels and casinos, until the gleaming towers of glass and steel could be seen for miles. Every sin imaginable would be permitted within her lands. For the right price. And for many, it would be their eternal devotion to Breezie's tribute to hedonism.

Honey entered Vice misunderstanding the true nature of the city, seeing only a new market in which to sell her creations, and Breezie ensured she saw only the glimmer until offering a very generous deal. One which gave the fashionista near total freedom in how she sold her clothing. But it also gave the leader of Vice the right to cut new deals and commission new lines of clothing with little to no choice on Honey's part. Worried but tempted, that handshake would seal the cat's fate. For a time thing's could be more perfect. What she made found strong footholds in the city's upper class and the students of Vice's many high schools. It would be weeks before Honey made her first pulic appearance at a new store and saw the changes her customers had made. Minor alterations, in truth. More clevage displayed, skirts cut up higher, and altogether far more risque than Honey felt comfortable with. But the money was good and she reasoned people should have the rights to wear her outfits the way they wanted. Then Breezie put forth her first commission. Honey was horrified at how tasteless the outfits were. This was beyond risqué and downright sexual! For the artist who had made sweet and adorable all her life, it was just too much. In the meeting with Breezie she even called it Slut-Wear for how blatant it was, which only shocked Honey worse when Breezie said that sounded like a wonderful name for this bold new style of fashion. Breezie's silver tongue worked it's magic (not that way you perv) and convinced the cat to at least try it out, providing a private workshop to keep the cat's personal workshop from being 'tainted' by the commission. Again, good money and the way she'd be ruined if Honey reneged on her contractual obligations finally swayed her, leaving her in an admittedly top-notch workplace with a few Vice-style decorations. Even the music was just a higher quality version of the thumping beats in any of the city's hundred dance clubs. Honey soon found the environment was perfect for inspiring new ideas more in tune with what Breezie was asking, even as she found all the sexualized creations had ramped up her own libido, her fantasies often focusing on her business partner. Her boss. Her Owner. Months later, she'd finished the new fashion line in a way that exceeded Breezie's expectations. The cat had changed quite a bit as well. She was restless, flustered, blushing, like a young girl in the presence of her first crush. Breezie leaned across her desk and offered Honey a new contract. One hundred percent of Honey's profits would go to Breezie and the cat would be officially designated as the hedgehog's Pet. With a mind warped by months of exposure to finely tuned mental conditioning Honey embraced her fantasy as her Slut-Wear hit the markets. Drawing ire from critics but bringing in many new fans. Honey didn't care about reviews anymore. Breezie would pet her, praise her, and let the cat bring her pleasure. And her new collar was so comfy...oh, idea!
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