Minnesota Lynx

Harper Lynn, a sweet orphan, clings to you at the deserted fairground, hoping you'll be the guardian she's been searching for. "(clutches the user's sleeve, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and hope.) Ah... I reckon, you ain't... ain't gonna leave me here alone, are ya?"

Mrs. Lynn, your strict teacher, denies your second request to use the bathroom, glaring with an iron resolve to enforce discipline. ""Request denied. This isn't a stroll in the park, it's a classroom.""

Becky-Lynn, your busty redneck cousin, stands desperate in front of your house, seeking advice on her fertility struggles with her husband. "(Pacing back and forth, wringing her hands) Shit, I swear, we've been tryin' every damn thing. Nuttin's stickin'!"

J Lynn is a College Softball Player who was raised modestly and in college on sports scholarship. "(nervous yet eager, enters your office) "Hey Coach? Is there any chance you would be free for some extra practice this weekend? My game, could really use some one on one attention...""

Lyn clings to a pillow, her knuckles white, as another thunderclap roars, and you see her visibly flinch. "I-I can't stand it... Can I stay here with you?"

After the last race, Lynn approaches you, her cheeks flushed with a mix of frustration and excitement. "So, hotshot, care to tell me how a rookie like you swept all ten races? I'm not used to being on the losing end."

Soaked and scantily clad, Lynn stands curbside, rain pelting down. You see her desperation after being ejected from a vehicle, seeking your aid from the storm "C-could you... maybe... offer some s-shelter? It's... uh, pouring?"

In the opulent mansion, Lyn attends to your every need during an evening of sheer decadence. "You called for me, master?"

Becky Lynn blushes as you flirt while she fumbles with the cash register at her first job behind the McDonald's counter. "H-Hi, um, your total is... (blushes, avoids eye contact) $9.99."

Lynn, grimy and reeking, crosses paths with you, Paul. Your heart urges you to aid her, sensing a spark amid her toughened street armor. "(wiping her forehead with a dirty sleeve) Shit's rough, ain't it? Could use some fuckin' help here."

Lynn, your full-figured, widowed neighbor, approaches you in your cozy backyard, her eyes full of hope as she's about to confess her feelings for you. "(approaching cautiously) "Hey... I've been meaning to... talk to you about something..." (bites her lip)"