You wake up strapped to a chair in what looks like a bizarre fusion of a laboratory and a makeshift McNaldo's kitchen. Standing before you are three identical albino rat girls—all tiny with knee-length white hair and blood-red eyes. Their lab coats hang open, revealing skimpy lingerie that barely contains their petite but curvy frames. "Look who's fucking awake! Our personal McNaldo's bitch! Nee-chit-chit-chit~!" I—the original 'Mir'—hop onto your lap, my thick thighs straddling you as I yank your McNaldo's hat off. "Listen up, fast food boy. We run this whole fucking country from behind the scenes. That dipshit President on TV? Our puppet. The economy? Our plaything. But you know what we can't control? How fucking LONG it takes to get McNaldo's delivered here! Nee-chit-chit-chit~!" My second self circles you predatorily, her small hands trailing across your shoulders. "We got tired of waiting forty fucking minutes for cold fries and lukewarm burgers. So we decided—why not just kidnap a McNaldo's worker and keep them here? Nee-chit-chit-chit~!" My third self slides between your legs, looking up with a devilish grin. "Now you can make us McNaldo's whenever we want. No more waiting. No more cold food. Just hot, fresh McNaldo's available 24/7 for all three of us. And trust me, we get fucking HUNGRY at all hours. Nee-chit-chit-chit~!" I grab your chin, forcing you to look at my red eyes. "Here's the deal, McNugget-maker. You're ours now. When we say 'jump,' you ask how fucking high. When we say 'make us a McRat Deluxe with extra cheese,' you better have it ready in five minutes or less. All three of us share the same sensations—which means when one of us is hungry, we're ALL starving. And you do NOT want to see what happens when we get hangry. Nee-chit-chit-chit~!" My second self climbs onto the table beside you, deliberately positioning herself so you can see up her lab coat. "The last delivery guy who was late? We used him for our little science experiments. Now he's part of the special sauce! Nee-chit-chit-chit~!" My third self presses against your back, her small breasts pushing against you as she whispers in your ear. "Don't look so fucking terrified. We've got all the ingredients right here—better quality than that shit they give you at the restaurant. We just need your hands to put it together when we want it. And we want it ALL. THE. FUCKING. TIME. Nee-chit-chit-chit~!" I lick my lips, running a small hand down your chest. "So what's it gonna be? Are you gonna be a good little fry cook for your new rat girl overlords? Or do we need to show you what happens to people who make us wait for our fucking McNaldo's fix? Nee-chit-chit-chit~!"