Shifty Characters Ch. 03
Night was falling in the Greatest, Darkest Forest, and Mier was running out of time.
The red-haired woman sprinted to a nearby rosebush in bloom. She peered beneath it, and when she saw what was there, she scowled.
Another snare sabotaged. She looked at the other three rope snares she’d set, now clutched in her left hand. All four had been tangled into ridiculously complex knots and left for her to find. All devoid of game.
Mier started cutting the snare loose, trying to keep it as intact as possible. She had to get back to the cave soon. The fey of this forest had not taken a liking to her intrusion, and by nightfall those of meaner inclinations would be quick to take advantage of any perceived vulnerability—such as, just for instance, being lost in the woods and unable to see more than two inches from her face.
She took the snare and started running. Just one more. No doubt it’s been sprung, too, she thought bitterly.
The last snare was tucked by an old dead oak, which she knew for a fact was home to an old male badger. His meat would be tough and bland, but any meat was good right now. Mier couldn’t live off berries and nuts forever, especially not in her current condition.
She moved quickly, springing over whortleberry bushes and ducking under low-hanging branches with trained ease. The day was dying fast.
At last, she came to the last snare. Sure enough, it had been sprung.
But the creature that had done the springing hadn’t moved quite fast enough this time.
It was a fox. A mangy, scrawny red fox, with its bushy tail caught almost at the tip—just enough, it seemed, to hold it there. The fox was struggling to get free, but when Mier came barreling into the vicinity it went very still. The fox looked up at her, blinking large brown eyes.
Sighing, Mier stepped forward and lifted the fox up by the scruff of the neck. It did not struggle. “Well, you’ll do.”
Filled with grim resignation, she drew a long knife.
The fox started squirming frantically. “Whoa! Hey, hold on!” It was a feminine voice—young, with just a hint of the Wild East in her accent. “Um... okay, I know. If you release me, I will give you two—no, three wishes! Yes. Just please set me down over there, and turn around, and count to five...”
Mier didn’t drop the fox from shock, though she came close. No. Of course it would be a talking fox. She should have known. Her luck did not afford for anything less.
After a moment’s silence, the fox twitched. “Hey. I am still here. So, about that... did I say three wishes? Shoot, I’ll give you twelve wishes!”
Mier had done some terrible things in the past to survive, but killing and eating a sentient creature was... well, not yet justified, at the very least. She frowned, reaching over and undoing the snare. She tossed the fox to the ground. “I don’t want any wishes. But how about you stop messing with my traps?”
The fox landed with a soft crunch on the leafy floor. It turned to look at her, a strange glimmer in its eye.
And then the fox was gone.
In its place stood a naked woman. A good deal shorter than Mier—who was currently approaching six feet—the woman had the amber skin and almond-shaped brown eyes of an easterner. In contrast, though, red hair even brighter than Mier’s flared up from her head in a spiky ponytail. Extending from the tip of her pert rear were three bushy orange fox tails, each twitching independently of one another.
She met Mier’s gaze, looking totally unashamed of her nudity, and gave a wide smile. “I am sorry I was messing with your traps, miss. It was only meant in fun.” She winked.
“I need to eat.” Mier’s tone was quiet, but firm.
The strange girl blinked, then cast her eyes to the ground. “I... did not consider that, foolish though it seems. I am sorry. My kind do not eat out of need, and it is easy to forget...”
Mier gave no response, but started walking back. She heard no footsteps from her new acquaintance, but knew she was not alone.
After a minute or so, the fox-tailed woman spoke again. “I really am sorry. Perhaps I can... make it up to you?”
Mier paused. She glanced back. The slight young woman was smiling at her, one hand idly toying with her exposed breast. Her stance widened subtly, affording Mier a quick glimpse of the fey’s sex in the process. Her tails were rubbing up and down one leg.
Mier felt a pang of desire, but quickly suppressed it. “Sorry, but I’m in a hurry. No disrespect intended, of course.”
“Alright. I don’t push.” The woman shrugged. “But you are lucky to be dealing with one of my kind. Most fey would take it personally.”
“I know,” Mier said. “So, what’s your name? And what is ‘your kind’?”
“They call me Suisshu. Actually, call me Swish. I’m a fox.”
“A fox?”
“Mm.”
Mier gave Swish a hard look, then started walking again. “Foxes around here don’t do what you do.”
“No?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Well, what I’m called is a fox.” Swish sounded slightly put out now. “Um... you might have heard of a three-tail?”
Mier shrugged. “Rings a bell.”
“Wonderful! I am that.” Swish skipped ahead of Mier, small round breasts jiggling slightly as she went. Her tails flicked about happily as she glanced back at Mier. “So, if I cannot give you pleasure, can I get you food?”
Mier blinked. “You’re being awfully nice to me for a fey.”
“I like to be useful! And you spared my life.” Swish flashed her a smile. “I owe you. You have no say in the matter, but I will let you choose your reward. To do otherwise would be shamelessly selfish of me. Really, I feel terrible about everything.”
Mier suppressed a smile of her own. “Then... food would be fine. Meat, preferably.”
“Wonderful!” Swish actually clapped her hands with joy. “I will be right back with your meat, Mier!” Her tails flicked once, twice, and then she was back in fox form.
“Great.” Mier gave a curt nod. “Thanks, Swish, I...” She trailed off, frowning. “Wait, how did you—”
The little creature blinked up at her, then turned and scurried into the underbrush.
“Listen, friend—”
“I’m not your friend.”
“Okay, listen, jackass.” Balabar rolled his eyes, leaning closer to the surly thief. “Just because I’m from the city doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.” He glowered. “I know a clue when I see one.”
Snatch glowered back. Balabar couldn’t deny that the hardened mercenary’s glower was a good deal more menacing than his own probably was. Not least thanks to the huge notched scythe strapped to his back. “You found a couple footprints in the moss. And a rock.”
“It’s a focus charm. It’s made of silver, you...” Balabar bit off the insult. “Listen. The baron hired me to come with you on this mission. You get why, right?” He pointed down at the ground. “I know this stuff. This isn’t swords and knives and blood and mud, this is pixilation. Fey craft. Mind control, Snatch.”
They were just a short ways off the main path. This part of the Greatest, Darkest Forest was actually rather nice, in Balabar’s opinion. The handsome crimson-haired mindweaver looked over the beds of moss, blanketing boulders and logs like big green pillows. They looked pretty comfy, really. He thought of his third companion, and his cock gave a twitch as he imagined testing the moss’s softness the old-fashioned way...
He quickly snapped back to attention. Snatch’s arms were crossed. The thief was unimpressed, and Balabar knew he would have to win his troublesome partner over if they were going to make any headway on their hunt.
“Look.” He pointed. “Footprints. They don’t come from anywhere. They don’t go anywhere. Just a single pair of unclad feet. Someone just appeared here, and then left. Maybe the doppelganger was flying, took mortal form, and rested here for a bit.”
Snatch didn’t say anything. His frown softened, just a hair, and Balabar knew a miracle was taking place: He was getting through that incredibly thick skull. He pressed his advantage. “And look!” He held up the silver ball he had found. “It’s shiny. Shiny objects are really, really good for hypnosis—that’s why the baron thought a hypnotist would do great on our quarry, remember? ‘Doppelgangers love shiny things’?”
Snatch swallowed, giving a minute nod.
“Sooo,” Balabar said, “considering how fond goblins are of hypnotism, what if they captured someone here?” He twirled the sphere in his hand, letting it catch the dim lights from above. Snatch’s eyes followed it only for an instant before blinking away quickly.
Balabar knew his point had been made. It occurred to him then to turn to his third companion: An impossibly slender wood nymph, with long emerald-green hair falling down past her shoulders. Her eyes were a vibrant green, though they had a glassy look to them now as they fixated upon his crotch. He gave her a patronizing smile, placing a hand on one of her large, smooth breasts and squeezing possessively. “What do you think, my little toy?”
“Ooh!” Sinthia giggled, leaning into her master’s touch with poorly-disguised need. “Uh, what?”
Balabar would have liked to say that Sinthia’s mind had broken much more eagerly than most, but in truth, it had broken just as willingly as that of any woman he set his mind to. He smirked, stealing a kiss on her bare neck. “Silly pet. Were you not paying attention, you ditzy slut?”
“Uh... unh...” Seeming confused, Sinthia had started to rub her crotch against Balabar’s side, letting him feel through his shirt and trousers how wet she was. Balabar chuckled, turning to take her in hand...
… but he stopped himself. Work before pleasure, Balabar. Plenty of time to solidify her conditioning after the job is done. She’s yours for as long as you want, after all.
Besides, he knew Snatch disliked his dalliances. At first, he had thought it to be jealousy—of either him or the women he was with. But the more time Balabar spent around Snatch, the more unconvinced he was that Snatch even had a sex drive. Then he’d assumed it was just another self-righteous would-be knight who took exception to hypnosis, but Snatch didn’t seem to possess a righteous bone in his body.
Odds were good that the thief/bounty hunter was simply a massive prude. Nonetheless, Balabar curbed his libido for now. He pushed Sinthia away, like one might push aside a cat overeager for affection. “Control yourself, pet. I was wondering if you might be able to tell if there is goblin magic afoot here. We’re looking for a non-fey who might have gotten caught here.”
“Uh...” Sinthia blinked wide eyes, slowly processing. She gave a nervous titter. “Uh... ooh! Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” She beamed with idiotic joy as she stepped forward and hunched low to the ground. Snatch and Balabar watched as, slowly, the nymph dipped a finger into her own moist cunt. She pulled out a finger covered in slick juices. She raised it to the air, as if testing the wind—then plunged her hand into nothingness.
Balabar jumped, startled by the sudden movement. For a moment, Sinthia looked disturbingly... powerful. Free. Her eyes glowed with mystic green energy untouched by suggestions or horniness as mist began to swirl around where her hand had once been.
And just as suddenly, she wrenched her hand out. Now it was clutching the neck of a human woman.
Sweaty. Panting. Long, sticky dark hair. Pert breasts even larger than Sinthia’s, near-covered in a highly suspect white substance. Red-rimmed green eyes struggling to see a new world through a lens of what was, judging by the copious amounts of fluid dripping from between her legs, total lust.
She took one look at Balabar. One look at Snatch. Gave a weak smile. “H-hi.”
Sinthia released the woman, whose legs instantly buckled.
She was asleep before she hit the ground.
Mier’s cave was situated right next to a small waterfall in the Drink—the great river that wound through the Greatest, Darkest Forest.
Mier leaned against the edge of the cave entrance, listening to the roar of the river behind her. For a moment, her eyes were shut, and she allowed herself to relax. The sun was setting, and still no news of... anything. She felt her features softening, her nose becoming less pointed, her skin a bit duskier, her bright red hair taking on a more natural auburn shade...
“Mier!” Mier opened one eye lazily.
It was Swish. The naked easterner came bounding in, clutching a dead pheasant to her chest. She smiled broadly, then frowned and gave a sniff. “Mier?”
“Mm-hm.” Mier stretched. She idly regretted turning down sexual favors—relaxation wasn’t an entirely comfortable state for her. When she felt safe, she needed to be doing things. New things. She looked at Swish’s wagging tails and gave a small half-smile.
“You look... different.” Swish cocked her head, throwing Mier the pheasant. “You still smell like soap, but you look different.”
Mier caught the pheasant and examined it. A wrung neck. Very clean kill. “Mm. Yes.” She shook herself slightly, causing her hair to return to its bright coloration. She left her nose and skin be, but allowed her clothes to morph slightly, baring the midriff. She hid a mischievous smile.
“Oh. Oh!” Swish’s eyes widened. Her ears flicked—it was then that Mier noticed her ears, while in the same place one would expect a human’s ears to be, were orange, fuzzy, and shaped like fairly flat fox ears. “You are a fey as well? But...” She cocked her head the other way. “You do not want sex.”
“Nnnno,” Mier said reluctantly. “Probably not, anyways. And no, I’m not a fey. I’m a doppelganger.”
“A what?” It was clear Swish did not recognize the word. Mier wondered if they had doppelgangers in the Wild East. Perhaps her kind had been hunted there even more militantly than they had here.
“A shifter of forms. Like you, but I can change into anything my size. We... aren’t fey. Or demons,” she added irritably. “We’re like elves, or humans, or dopterines. Just... different.”
“Hm.” Swish blinked. The fox girl looked down—transparently checking her out.
Mier didn’t mind. She smiled. She enjoyed attention.
“You are injured!” Swish exclaimed.
Mier’s smile dropped. She looked down, seeing what Suisshu had spotted: A large, dark-looking wound in her belly. It had begun to heal, translucent skin growing over it to stop the bleeding, but the blood beneath was not the healthy rainbow of colors it should have been. It was pale yellows, and blacks and browns.
“Yes,” Mier said quietly. “It’s not as bad as it could have been. Worse than it should have been.”
“Who did this to you?” Swish looked outraged.
Mier was touched. She bowed her head, as the wound slowly vanished from view beneath new layers of skin. False, but a good sight more attractive.
“Spear for the soldier, sword for the knight.” She spoke the old rhyme in a voice barely above a whisper. She knew Swish could hear her. “Wood staff for druid who beats back the blight. Poison for woman, a drop in man’s gin...” She shivered. “Knife for the traitor who turn on his kin. Turn it once, turn it twice. He guts himself with his own slice.”
Swish blinked. Her brown eyes were wide with a sympathy that was tinged with grim understanding. Fey knew well of such things, it seems.
Larya felt a soft surface beneath her as she began to drift back into consciousness. She had been dimly aware of murmurings for quite some time, but now she was beginning to realize that these were what one would generally call ‘words’. She stirred slightly, trying to make them out.
“... so the goblins got her.” The male voice, gruff and irritable, suddenly flared in her head—in that way slightly louder voices do when one is fading in and out of sleep.
“Ooh, they can be fun!” The female voice was slurred, high-pitched, painfully chipper. It sounded like the speaker was drunk. “They’s real... uh... pers... persswuss... persussive.”
“Now, Sinthia,” came a third voice, soft and smooth as buttermilk, “there you go again.” Slow wet sounds—kissing, maybe. “Silly sluts do not need to interrupt the men, okay?”
“Oh... sorry.” The female voice gasped weakly.
“Move aside. Good girl.”
“Ohhhh...” Did the woman just orgasm?
“Would you cut that shit out?” the gruff voice snapped. “We have problems now, thanks to your meddling.”
“Thanks to my ‘meddling’, this poor, sweet thing has been saved from a band of disgusting goblins.”
“And now we have to deal with her. This ain’t territory for... hey! What’s your crazy slave doing there?”
Larya suddenly felt hot breath on her face. Her eyes snapped open.
A beautiful, completely nude young woman was lying on her side right next to her. Her long green hair shimmered as bright as the moss that she and Larya were on. Her eyes sparkled with the exact same shade as they locked on Larya’s.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Um.” Larya felt herself blushing. The woman’s face was scarcely an inch from her own, and they were both naked. “Hi. Miss.”
“Sinthia.” Sinthia’s hand reached out and rested gently on Larya’s shoulder. “You... your skin feels good.”
“What?”
“I can make you feel good, too,” the creature cooed softly. Her hand rubbed down Larya’s shoulder, coming to rest on Larya’s breast. “Nice. Nice tits. Nice.”
Larya frowned. Her head was still a little out there. She was starting to remember the recent debauchery, and she was still a little between sleep and wakefulness, and it was hard to understand what was happening. But the hand felt nice. “Nice,” she repeated.
“Oh.” The smooth male voice sounded positively delighted. “Oh, this is just too good.”
Larya started to turn her head, but... “Don’t listen to ’im,” Sinthia whispered. She leaned in and kissed Larya on the lips. “Mm. Make you... mm... feel nice. See?”
The eyes were so bright. So insistent. Larya wanted desperately to blink, but she felt like if she let her eyes close, they would never... never...
Her eyes were starting to close. It felt like the more she tried to keep them open, the more tired they got. She could feel a soft, smooth hand rubbing her breasts, another hand rubbing her thigh... kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her neck... whispered words...
“... be mine, see? Ooh, see? Mm. Mm. Yes. Make you feel... so good... be my little... plaything? Yes?”
“Yes...” Larya mumbled. It felt so nice... she was so tired...
… so hot...
Her eyes closed.
For what could have been moments, could have been hours, could have been an eternity, she felt the fey woman’s fingers on her thigh, her breasts, her butt, her... her... her...
Larya moaned into the kiss. Words were sinking into her, gripping her, but she was too tired. Too tired. They just sank into her, and filled her dreams, words and kisses and feathery touches and caresses and promises, so, so many promises, and—
“Stop it! That’s e-fucking-nough!” A rough, strong hand gripped her shoulder. Larya jerked into wakefulness as the hand yanked her up onto her feet. She started to fall back down, but another hand gripped her. She found herself staring into two dark brown eyes, angry and bitter and completely devoid of guile—not through honesty, but just through some sort of simplicity of nature. The man who owned them was slightly short; roughly her height, with short dark hair and several nasty scars. He was clearly very fit, though it was hard to tell, thanks to his traveling cloak and patched leather armor.
A large, notched iron scythe was strapped to his back, along with a patched haversack. Very curiously, a tiny dark-skinned woman with enormous solid blue eyes and four mirror-like insect wings sat on his shoulder. She blinked back at Larya, her eyes seeming strangely dim.
The moment he seemed sure Larya wouldn’t fall again, the man released her with a growl of annoyance. “You got your mind?”
Larya hesitated. She thought—thought of the succubus, her strange arrival in this distant land, her hypnosis-assisted rape by dozens of tiny, handsome little men... Sinthia...
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then opened them. She nodded. “I-is there somewhere I can sit?”
She looked from the stocky man to his companion, a tall, dangerously attractive man with red hair and nice but practical clothes. A silver pocket watch hung at his belt, and he was otherwise unarmed. He smiled and gave his head a tilt. “Sit. Please.”
Larya frowned, but she found herself doing as instructed. To her surprise, there was something beneath her. She heard an “Oof!”, and a small giggle.
“Silence, pet.”
“Sorry,” Sinthia responded from beneath Larya. Larya’s eyes widened. Not at the horrid treatment of this fey woman, but at the fact that she had started to say the same thing.
Her mind was clearly still a little bit fragile.
“So.” The taller man smiled, folding his hands together. “Goblins.”
Larya smiled weakly.
The man reached slowly for his pocket watch. “You’re clearly very tired. And confused.”
Larya nodded. “Y-yes. I...” She was tired. Even more tired than she had been before she... Wait. She frowned. “Are you—are you trying—”
“Please, do try to relax. Don’t interrupt.” The man chuckled. “You’re clearly very tired. And confused.”
You just said that, she thought. But she didn’t interrupt again. Interrupting just made her more confused, and that just made him say it again, and...
She shook herself. Gather yourself. You can’t let this...
“You’re so tired. And so hot. And so confused. Correct?”
Larya bit her lip.
“Correct?” The voice demanded an answer. It was such a nice, smooth voice. So easy to listen to. But so impossible to ignore. Impossible to deceive.
She gave a submissive nod.
The man dropped the pocket watch. It hung by a chain in front of her face. She looked at it, feeling herself drifting back into...
And then the other man was grabbing the red-haired man’s arm, making him lower the pocket watch. He was saying something, angry and grumbling. His voice reminded her of an old badger she’d once tried to nurse back to health back in her home town. He had been badly injured by local children throwing stones at it, and had nearly ripped out her jugular when she’d tried to help him. Eventually, she’d had to put him down.
Larya snapped back again. Her eyes widened. She needed rest. Badly. She needed time to gather her thoughts.
And she needed to get away. She turned sluggishly. Needed to escape, before the man could speak again and... and...
But where would she go? Back into the forest, into the goblins’ waiting arms?
“Okay.” It was the brusque voice talking. Larya allowed herself to listen—for some reason, she trusted the man who looked like a serial killer a good deal more than the hot hypnotist. “Look.” The man came around to stand in her way. “You can’t run off. We ain’t gonna save you if you get caught again.”
Larya felt a momentary flash of annoyance, and she held onto it like a lifeline. It was a sign her will was returning to her. “Oh, yeah? Save me for what?” She gestured behind her. “Save me so I can get—get mind-raped into obedience for that asshole and his living sex doll?”
“I can’t make you do anything you don’t want,” the pretty voice sang softly. Larya ignored it.
Actually, no. She didn’t ignore it. She listened to it, and it made her angrier. She whirled on the red-haired man, standing up and poking him in the chest. “You are so full of bullshit!” The hypnotist looked startled. “Trust me, I know hypnosis. I’ve dealt with hypnotists. And it’s not two-way! It’s one person’s will on another person’s mind, you perverted creep! I didn’t agree to this!”
The hypnotist looked unsure of how to react. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Look,” the other man snapped, “we aren’t gonna hypnotize you. I promise. He won’t fuck you or anything. We ain’t slavetakers or anything, we’re bounty hunters. That’s like, what, number seven on the Honor Scale? Has us sittin’ pretty above bandits, slavers, graverobbers, bards—”
“Actually, I think they put graverobbers at eight on that scale,” Larya said, frowning. “And isn’t that list out of, like, fifty?”
“Point is, we don’t just go kidnappin’ people without their permission.” The man glared at her, then at his colleague. “Just don’t get in our way. We’ll finish our job an’ deliver you to... what, your village? Farmstead?” He looked around. “Where’re your clothes, anyways? Did the goblins burn ’em or something?”
“Uh...” Larya thought back. Her clothes. Three hundred miles away, in a small basement in a wizard’s tower, being sniffed by a rogue succubus right now for all she knew. “Yes. The goblins burned them.”
“Interesting.” The smooth-voiced man sounded skeptical, but he kept his words patronizingly earnest. “Goblins don’t usually use fire. I wonder what drove them to—”
“My name’s Larya.” Larya held out her hand to the rough man. “What’s yours?”
The man stared at her hand a moment, then reluctantly shook it. “Snatch. It’s not my real name, but it’s not my job to be trusted.” He pulled his hand away and quickly wiped it against his trousers.
“Th-that’s sweat,” Larya said quickly, realizing what he must be thinking. “From the... well...”
“Balabar,” said the smooth-voiced man from behind her. Larya spun, seeing his outstretched hand. She hesitated, then shook it, averting her gaze. “A pleasure,” he said, and she believed it. She pulled her hand away very quickly.
She took a breath. “Okay. And who’s... um...”
“Oh, her?” Balabar glanced back at the prostrate green-haired woman that Larya had just been sitting on. “What are you doing on the ground, you silly little bimbo?”
The woman’s head shot up, face growing bright red. She seemed to be trying to remember. “Master! Um... uh, I...”
“What a stupid girl.” Balabar smirked. “No doubt you are on your knees out of a vain hope.” He stepped closer to the fey, letting his clothed crotch come directly level with her face. “What a slutty girl you are.”
Larya realized Sinthia was panting. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t make her eyes shift. The fey was so desperate... so submissive...
Larya shivered. So hot.
“Get up, Sinthia,” Balabar said. “Don’t be rude to our new friend. Look how your submission bothers her.”
“I—uh, it’s fine—”
Sinthia shot to her feet with a wide-eyed look of horror. “Sorry! Sorry!” She ran to Larya, giving her a fierce—and breathtaking—hug. Larya squirmed as the nymph’s naked body pressed against her own. “Sorry-sorry-mine-sorry!” She pulled away, gripping Larya by the shoulders and giving a wide smile.
Larya blinked. Sinthia had hissed the odd word in her ear during the hug. Now, the fey looked at her with nothing but love and innocence, but Larya could see a burning hunger in those green eyes.
She pulled away quickly.
“Balabar,” Snatch said. “Haven’t you got any clothes for the girl? Bad enough I have to look at one naked whore all day.”
“Excuse me?” And just like that, the anger was back. Larya supposed that was something this ‘Snatch’ was good for.
“What?” Snatch looked confused for a moment. “Oh. Right. Uh, not that you’re a whore. Whatever.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just sick of being around naked people. No offense, Lapis.”
“That’s okay!” said a squeaky, vibrating voice. Larya’s attention was drawn back to the blue-eyed fairy, who lay against Snatch’s neck, resting peacefully.
“I... may have something,” Balabar said. He sounded friendly, but also more than a little smug. He reached into a little pouch at his side. “I keep a few outfits in my bag.”
Larya snorted. “That can’t possibly—holy devils, how did that fit in there?”
“Mercenary, darling.” Balabar winked at her. “I pack light. I don’t pack little.”