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Despite what its name might have suggested, the Choking Wood was perfectly safe. More or less. Like many ancient forests of its kind, it was known to be a haven for strange and mystical creatures. However, many of those creatures were completely harmless, so long as one did not antagonize them. Or intrude on their domain. Or accept any offer of food they make. Or do any of about a hundred different actions that might draw their ire, many of which are arcane and mutually exclusive. Beyond that, however, the Choking Wood was perfectly safe.

The faded pink cloak that wandered between the trees did not fear the Wood. Brogan was wary, perhaps. Cautiously respectful, one might say. But he was not afraid. Even as the mists began to roll in, and the air took on the suspiciously sweet timbre of the lands beyond the mundane, he did not change his stride. When a black shape appeared from the mists, headed down the road in front of him, he did not respond by plunging his hand in his cloak and drawing the dagger at his hip. He did, however, stop a moment and try to get an idea of what was approaching him.

It was a short thing, only coming up to the man’s navel. It would have been even shorter, were it not balanced on the balls of its fuzzy paws, digitigrade. It, like Brogan, wore a cloak to ward off the damp air, though the creature’s was a bolder shade of red, and it came with a hat of almost comical brim width. Its forepaws gripped at the straps of the large pack on its back, revealing a pair of skinny, black-furred arms with uneven white glove markings. Underneath the hat, a pair of whiskers twitched. A tiny mouth opened, as a small pink nose took in the scent of the stranger it stopped in front of.

Brogan put a hand on his hip, closer to (but not touching) his knife. “Good morning, stranger.”

“And a fine morning to you, too,” the creature replied, its voice crisp and airy. “Rare to hear such pleasantries from a mortal.”

Brogan shrugged. “I see no reason to be rude to one of the Fair Ones. So long as they mean no harm, anyways.”

The cleft lip under the brim of that hat lifted into a smile. “Marvelous. I do so enjoy meeting a man of sense. You’ve my word, mortal, that I mean no harm.”

Brogan thought to thank the creature for being forthright, but caught himself. Thanking the fey outright could be very dangerous. He thought a moment, for the best way to phrase the sentiment. “A reassuring promise, fair one. I accept your word without condition.”

The creature laughed, delighted at meeting a mortal who knew how to talk to beings like them. Bringing a paw up, they lifted the brim of their hat, revealing a pair of deep green, slitted eyes and the bottom of their pointed ears. “Marvelous, marvelous! Well then, as long as we are being so agreeable, perhaps you might know the way to the town of Gortan?”

Brogan nodded. “Aye, I do. As it happens, you’re walking in the complete opposite direction.”

“Am I?” The creature sighed. “I never can keep the byways of the mundane straight. The very thought that directions are fixed and places are always wherever they were last... it seems to me to be utter madness, frankly.”

“You get used to it.” Brogan ventured a smile, as it became more and more likely that he was not about to be assaulted. “Actually, I am bound for Gortan, myself.”

“Are you?”

“I am. There’s family there, that I’m to meet with.”

“How lovely!”

“Aye.”

“Indeed.”

An awkward silence hung over the two of them. The creature beamed, expectantly. There was a request in those eyes, but Brogan suspected that voicing that request would imply a favor to grant. The fey were creatures of promises, and favors were not things they enjoyed owing to anyone. Especially mortals. Realizing that there was no polite way to move on, Brogan took a moment to weigh his next words, carefully.

“Perhaps we might go together,” was the phrasing he settled on. “Journeys are always better when they aren’t taken alone.”

“Oh, I agree,” the creature replied, trying their level best to appear like they had not already been thinking of accompanying Brogan. The idle swish, at the end of their long white-tipped tail, betrayed the sense of satisfaction inside their head. “Especially when the alternative is pleasant company.”

The young human made an effort not to roll his eyes. “Aye, well... I am known as Brogan.”

“We are well met, Brogan.” The creature sketched a baroque gesture, partway between bow and curtsy. “I take little stock in my own name. You may call me whatever pleases you.”

Brogan squinted, looking the creature over. “Well, then... I suppose ‘Cat’ will do, at least for the time being.”

The being known as Cat smiled, whiskers twitching in contentment. “Marvelous. Well then, shall we go?”

What followed was, all things considered, a very relaxed few hours. Cat proved to be an excellent conversation partner. They were quick with a thought, always ready with a story, and eager to prove how well-traveled they were. If there was any mild annoyance to be found, it was that Cat seemed to despise the concept of silence. Once they had first started to run out of things to talk about, that was when the creature decided to resort to song. Pleasant song, mind. Brogan had yet to meet a fey who could fail to hold a tune. Even so, by the time the sun started to get low, the human had grown to miss the sound of the wind through the trees.

When night was about to fall, Brogan was prepared to make camp at the first empty spot he could find. However, Cat insisted they venture a ways off the beaten path, claiming they “heard” a better place to set up. Confused, but knowing better than to argue, he let himself be led through a dense patch of brush. He did not need to wait long; soon the land sunk down towards a deep and vibrant spring.

“Perfection!” Cat cried, spreading their arms out towards the bubbling water. “I had been trying to will such a spring into existence for hours, and here it is! You travel with a mighty creature, good Brogan.”

“I don’t believe that’s how it works,” Brogan replied, slinging his bag off of his shoulder and dropping it to the mossy ground. “In fact, I think you’ll find that this place has always been here.”

Cat seemed to be rattled at that. Brogan guessed that they had momentarily forgotten they were still in the mundane world. Then, they cleared their throat and attempted to salvage their poise. “Indeed. That is how it works where I am from, as well. However, if you wish it deeply enough, you can make it so that things have always been exactly where you want them to be.”

“So I’ve heard,” Brogan replied, valiantly attempting to keep the smirk off of his face. He opened the flap of his bag. “So, why stop here, specifically? I’m certain we could have met back up with the river if we went west a ways.”

When Brogan turned to look at his traveling companion, they were already halfway out of their cloak. Their large hat had been tossed, and at that moment was gently touching down to rest perfectly upon a nearby boulder. Cat wore nothing underneath his cloak. Immediately, Brogan’s eyes were drawn to the white strip of fur that cut through Cat’s otherwise black coat. It started at his throat and extended down, past his chest and around his soft belly, before disappearing between his legs. Also between his legs were the two small, but unmistakable bumps of his sheath and fluffy balls.

Brogan felt his face redden. At least he no longer needed to be idly curious about whether the creature he was traveling with was a he or a she. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Cat tossed the cloak, which draped itself next to his hat with the same uncanny precision. “I am ridding myself of the dust of the road, mortal,” he explained, matter-of-factly. “There is no better place to do so than in a suitably scenic spring, at least on this side of the trees.”

“If you say so.” Brogan got to one knee and began to dig in his bag, in earnest. “I suppose I’ll see about setting up my camp for the night, while you do that.”

“Goodness, no!” Cat turned to face the human, paws on his hips, as brazen and unashamed as the beasts of the wood. “There will be time aplenty for such things, mortal. For now, you must join me, while the sun still warms the air.” Brogan hesitated, looking from the fey to his bag. Cat laughed and added “Bring your things with you, if you must. I’m sure you’re concerned that I have compatriots in the trees, ready to steal your possessions as soon as your back is turned.”

Brogan had not been concerned about such a thing. Not until Cat had brought it up. Looking up, he asked Cat bluntly: “Do you?”

“I do not,” Cat answered, with a beaming grin.

Brogan understood. In the roundabout art of fey diplomacy, Cat was attempting to broker trust. The fey never lied, though they were known to play games with the truth. If he said he meant no harm, and if he had no compatriots who meant him harm... Brogan rose back up to his feet. “Fine,” he said, as he reached for the clasp of his own cloak. “I’d been overdue for such things, anyway.”

Cat kept his expression level. There was not a twitch of his whisker, a movement of his cleft lips, that gave away what went on inside his head. There was nothing but the idle back and forth quirk of his tail-tip, a slight widening of his slit pupils, as he watched the human undress. Brogan was (at least by the standards of mortals) a rough sort of handsome. His skin was mottled, sun-kissed where he had been exposed to the open sky and pale elsewhere. His body was carved from a life of toil and travel, but soft around the midsection in a way that suggested he was no stranger to a fine meal. As his lovingly aged wool tunic came off, Cat was delighted to see that the shock of red on the man’s head and chin continued on to his arms, his chest, down towards his stomach and further still.

Cautiously delighted, mind you. Cat took pains to keep his thoughts guarded. When Brogan had his hands around the waist of his breeches, and there was the slightest hesitation, Cat turned and began to walk down the slope to the water’s edge. “Do not tarry,” he said, as casually as if he had not just been perving on his companion. “The water shall be cold, and the air will only get colder.”

Brogan stood there a minute, thumbs hooked into his pants. Then, shaking his head, he pushed down. The walk down to the water was awkward and ungainly, mainly due to the fact that he descended with both hands clasped between his legs. He did not need to bother: Cat was turned in entirely the opposite direction, his little paws occupied with running his wet paws through his fur. Even so, Brogan found a spot deep enough for him to sit, so that his privates were submerged, and planted himself as quickly as possible.

Cat, by contrast, made no effort to hide himself. For all his talk of getting clean, the concept of simply immersing himself was easily the more abominable prospect. He waded in only as far as the first joint of his bestial legs, and even that was a loathsome endeavor. For the rest, he began a careful, almost solemn ritual. First, he would bend over, dipping the tips of his forepaws into the water. Then, he would stand again, slowly dragging those digits through the fur of his arms, his chest, his flanks. In this way, he could be cleaned without having to suffer the indignity of being entirely soaked.

It also meant more opportunities to... exhibit himself. Cat’s tail twitched in delight. He could all but feel the human’s eyes on him. Cat almost felt sorry for Brogan. Mortal eyes were so readily drawn to creatures as exquisite as he. That he was displaying himself in all his glory, like this... he suppressed a chuckle to himself. It was just unfair, really.

Heady with attention, he turned his head and regarded Brogan with a half-lidded smirk. “It is marvelous, is it no-?” He paused a moment, when he saw Brogan flinch and turn his head away. Immediately, Cat moved to feign innocence. “Oh. Dearie me, that’s right. I’d forgotten that the mortals had taken a turn towards modesty, in recent years. Do tell me that this is not an uncomfortable experience, good Brogan.”

“Er... no.” Brogan cleared his throat and tried to ignore the rising color in his cheeks. “There’s no harm in two men bathing together, is there?”

Cat’s whiskers twitched. “None that I am aware of, though now I’m curious. Would there have been harm had we not been two men?”

Brogan spluttered. “N-no! Of course not! I’m no cad, just...” Nervously, he scratched his cheek and looked away. “It’s just that it would have been a wee bit inappropriate, being indecent in front of... well...”

“...in front of a she-cat?”

The poor human jumped nearly out of the water, when he heard Cat’s voice right next to his ear. The fey creature had made no noise, though it cut a swift and direct path through meters of water in the few moments Brogan had taken his eyes off of him. The only evidence of Cat’s passing was a straight and spreading wake, that just at that moment was coming up to lap at the human’s stomach.

Cat smirked, then turned his back on the human. “It would be a kindness,” he said, “if you were to get the places my paws cannot reach.”

“Er... I... of course.”

Brogan lifted his hands out of the water slowly, and brought them down on Cat’s back. He was, frankly, too bewildered to say no. Having seen the way Cat had washed himself, it was not difficult to mimic that deliberate, gentle raking of fingers through fur. Of course, that fact did not allay the dim fear, in the back of his mind, that he was about to do something that would horribly offend the magical creature in front of him. However, if the noises that came out of Cat’s mouth were any indication, that was not going to be a problem. What was a problem were those noises, themselves. Those sighs and purrs were nowhere near inhuman enough not to sound borderline erotic, especially when Brogan’s fingers found themselves trailing down anywhere near the base of the creature’s tail. Brogan’s heart raced, as he felt the first unambiguous stirring in his loins.

“Are you disappointed?”

“What?” Brogan asked, with another start.

“To learn I’m not a she-cat.” Cat had a purr in their voice, a contented twitch of their tail. “Perhaps you were hoping that tonight would end with me warming your bedroll.”

“No!” Brogan half-lied, pulling his hands away. “Of course not. What do you take me for?”

Cat chuckled. “I take you for a human who has spent a long time in the wilderness, without a companion.” Turning their head, Cat fixed the human with a look of unapologetic smugness. “And from the looks of things, you certainly feel the need for companionship, right about now.”

Brogan followed Cat’s gaze down, to the red and twitching thing that was just poking out of the water, between the human’s legs. He covered himself, beet-faced. “Aye, well... that doesn’t matter. My kin may have taught me to be respectful to creatures like you, but they’d not take kindly to hearing that I’d bedded another man.”

Cat did not respond, at first, as a strange shiver possessed her from knees to ear-tips. When it passed, however, she was every bit as smug as before. “I see,” she said. “So, you’re saying if I was a woman, you would bed me?”

The human was confused, embarrassed, and eager to jump on the fastest route out of this conversation. Because of that, perhaps unwisely, he chuckled and said “Naturally. If you weren’t a man, I’d drag you back to shore and rut you like a beast. It’s honestly a shame that...”

“Marvelous!” Cat replied, turning around to face the human. “I accept your terms.”

“What are you talking a...bou...?”

Once again, Brogan’s eyes were naturally drawn to the strip of white going down an otherwise black pelt. Almost against his will, he found himself following it down, from the creature’s throat down to her belly. That was when he realized that something had changed. What had once been two unmistakable bumps between Cat’s legs was now a far more subtle pink crease. Or, at least, it was subtle until Cat brought her paws forward and spread them open to Brogan’s bewildered gaze.

“Is...” Brogan swallowed, nervously. “...is that...?”

“The mouth-that-cannot-bite?” Cat’s grin could not have been sharper if she had tried, as she presented her pussy with all the flair of a magic trick. “The seat of love? The nether-ye?”

Poor Brogan, for his part, was momentarily unable to speak. He stared down between the creature’s legs, dumbly and abortively attempting to cover the twitching mass between his own. “What is this? How... how is this possible?”

Cat chuckled. Pulling her paws off of her body, she took a few slow, almost theatrical steps forward. “Oh, you mortals,” she purred. “So accustomed to your rigid, unchanging world, you think that must be how everything works. It’s okay, of course. I do so enjoy the looks I get, when one finds out the truth.” Without deigning to ask for permission, Cat got close. Incredibly close. She put a foot-paw on one of Brogan’s muscular thighs and climbed atop him as casually as if he was a stone in the water. “That having been said, it seems as though I need to repeat what I told you before.”

She leaned against the human’s broad chest. Her body was soft, and in the failing light of the sun she was invitingly warm. A dextrous tail slipped under the water and wrapped around his member. She purred up into Brogan’s ear, her voice velvet and dulcet:

“You may call me... whatever pleases you.”

What followed was sudden, brutish motion. With how small and slight she was, Brogan was able to put his hands under Cat’s arms and lift her with no difficulty. He carted her to the shore of the spring, laying her down on the moss with something between urgency and hesitancy. There was no denying he was captivated by the fey creature; Cat’s tail was still wrapped around seven inches of gently throbbing proof, to that effect. Still, even as his lips crashed down on hers, and his breath came in ragged, moaning pants, still some part of him held back. His hand made its way between her soft thighs, as if trying to confirm that she had actually changed.

Cat did not mind. At least, not at first. That span of time immediately after she changed herself were always the best. Once she set her mind to being one way or the other, she found herself becoming solid. Present. Deliciously sensitive. The feeling of rough, work-hardened fingers between her legs was more than enough to keep the greed at bay. Again, at first.

Soon, however, she felt compelled to pull herself off of Brogan’s lips and whisper up at him. “This is certainly lovely,” she said, “but I believe you promised to rut me like a beast.” Brogan did not respond. Not with words, in any sense. The rest of his body seemed more than willing to make true on his word. However, Cat could see it in his eyes. Those eyes suspected a trap. Unfazed, she pressed the matter. “It is quite all right, good Brogan. You will not break me, and your seed would only find purchase if I were silly enough to desire it.”

Groaning, Brogan replied “I won’t ‘break’ you? Why do I get the impression that you’d like me to try?”

“Because I do want you to try.” Cat showed a hint of fang as she smirked up at Brogan, tail squeezing the human’s member one more time before falling away. Rough human fingers withdrew from her, slick with her mounting excitement. The feeling of large knees, pushing her thighs open, gave her a moment’s pause. The sight of a thick and meaty cock against her sex was arresting enough that, just for an instant, she found herself questioning her own bravado. Slowly her mouth opened, a call to slow down in the back of her throat. It left her mouth as a high-pitched yowl of surprise and pleasure as Brogan mercilessly descended.

The human let out a shaky sigh as his cock was enveloped in something hot, velvety, and almost impossibly tight. Having spent what felt like an eternity on the road, libido neglected, the feeling of that first kiss of flesh on flesh was enough to make him shiver. Rising to loom over the small creature beneath him, he began to rut with only the barest of pauses.

Cat was grateful that, small as she was, she found herself looking up into the human’s pecs. The difference in size was honestly a constant theme. Her legs struggled to wrap themselves around his thighs as they forced her open. Her arms were too short to grip any part of her lover, forcing her instead to paw at her cheeks as she was split and drilled into. Brogan’s tool was, by the standards of humans, modestly impressive. However, small as she was, it caused the nerves in her newly minted crura to send messages of overwhelming, distressing pleasure racing up and down her body. She had been correct, in saying that Brogan would not harm her. Even so, she cursed under her breath in the lilting tongue of the fey, dumbstruck with how completely she was being filled.

Between the two of them, there was nothing resembling patience. What followed was rough, frantic, almost bestial. Brogan pressed down onto soft, fuzzy thighs with the whole of his weight. The precipice was too close, the feeling too overwhelming, for him to do anything other than barrel his way towards climax. Not that he needed to worry for his companion. Cat devolved into a shaking, quivering mess some time before she had experienced a score of those weighty thrusts. A dozen more and Brogan was driving himself home and pouring hot seed into the fey’s grasping snatch.

For what felt like an eternity, all they could do was twitch and pant and groan. The sunlight finally began to fail. The sound of their breath, and of their hearts, finally gave way to the gentle lap of water and the cry of insects. Brogan finally pulled himself up, falling out of Cat’s sex and flopping lifelessly down towards the ground. Cat took a deep breath, rubbed her paws down her face. Then, she looked down at the seed, dribbling down her soft rear and onto the shore.

“Well?” Brogan asked, still slightly out of breath. “Have I... kept my promise to you, then?”

Cat looked up at the human with unfocused eyes. Then, remembering where she was, she sat up and twitched her whiskers. “Yes, well... that was far from the worst rutting I have had the fortune of receiving. I’d say you acquitted yourself well.”

“Glad to hear it.” Brogan staggered to his feet, where he began his ascent back up the hill. “So long as you promise not to go telling my kin how well I acquitted myself, you’ll be welcome by our hearth.”

Cat chuckled, taking a long moment to stare at the human’s low-hanging balls before they disappeared over the ridge. “Worry not,” she called back. “I am the very soul of discretion.”

With that, she lifted a leg and proceeded to clean out the evidence of their tryst. With uncanny flexibility, her head slipped down past her belly, and she began to lap at the matted fur at her thighs and ass. She caught the first taste of human seed, bitter and salty, and safe from the eyes of her companion she savored it.

Brogan, meanwhile, stared at the clearing with dumb confusion. As always, Cat had spoken the truth. She had had no designs to steal anything, to perform mischief of any kind to her new, handsome travel partner. The woods, however, were home to many a tricksy beast, any number of which would find the sight of unguarded treasures too enticing to pass up. Whoever decided to engage in mischief, the result was the same:

Poor Brogan, naked as the day he was born, slowly began to understand that both his and Cat’s possessions were gone.