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Friday Night at the Mystic Breath
🕑 Added 2024-12-01 17:28:13 +0000 UTCThis is also in your Commission Lovers folder!
Friday Night at the Mystic Breath
Commissioned by danio13
Written by HarmonyMotion
Frida and Lucas
“Mmmmm...” Frida closed her eyes and moaned. The silver handle of the spoon dangled out of her mouth as she experienced the taste of home sweet home once again.
“That good, huh?” Lucas grinned.
“You don’t understand,” the mechanic with grease under her fingernails purred. “This chili... the meat in here is from my own world. How did they get this here?” She stabbed another forkful of chili and fries into her mouth and savored the flavor, no less intense than the first.
“I was hoping you’d like it. May I?”
“Here, let me!” Frida grabbed a lone fry and smothered it in sauce to her satisfaction before putting it in Lucas’s waiting mouth.
“Mmm...” Lucas tasted it, chewing thoroughly before swallowing. “It’s really tender. It tastes kind of... gamey?”
“Gamey!? This is exactly like back from my home world. To me, it’s like how you guys call everything chicken!” Frida slammed her fist on the table.
“No no, it’s good! It’s just different,” Lucas tried to placate his hotheaded girlfriend.
“It’s okay if you don’t like it,” Frida’s famously fleeting temper passed. “Earth food is generally better than what I had. This just... reminds me of home, even though my life there was mostly bad. Can I have some of that?”
“Be my guest,” Lucas chuckled. He slid his sampler platter of fried finger foods over.
The atmosphere in the speakeasy smelled of myrrh and incense—a more palatable reference to the smoky cigars of old. The darkness wrapped around all the patrons like a thick velvet blanket. The wooden tables that Lucas and Frida sat on were steady but lightweight—same as the simple wooden chairs they sat on. Never had they actually had to shut the impromptu speakeasy on the lower level of the Mystic Breath on account of a sudden police raid, but the arrangement and anticipation really vibed with the patrons who showed up. It was a shared secret, a reminder that they were all strangers from a different world, their species considered supernatural on this Earth.
Frida ate with gusto, chomping chicken tenders and onion rings with her mouth wide open.
“Still, the food here is good,” a small piece of chicken and some breading flew out of her mouth.
“Just good, huh? I remember when I took you out for steak, you said, and I quote, ‘this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten!’” Lucas teased.
“Fine, it’s really good,” Frida rolled her eyes. “But sometimes you just miss a taste of home, you know? Even if home wasn’t all that good of a place for me and my kind.”
“I understand,” Lucas agreed, picking up on the melancholy tone.
He let her marinate in her thoughts as she devoured food from both plates simultaneously. Lucas looked around the dark establishment, examining the other couples or groups in their own little public secret spaces, having their own conversations. He idly wondered how many of them weren’t human. In here, he might be a minority. And no, the human-shaped golem waiter that had just walked by his table did not count as human.
“Uh, Frida? You’re having a... moment,” Lucas whispered across the table when his eyes came back to his now green-tinted girlfriend.
“What? Oh no!”
She was shrinking on the spot! Her shoulder length, straight, flowing brunette hair began to develop her natural curls as it pulled back into an unkempt ponytail, with plenty of it left around to bob around her neck like a lion’s mane. A signature thick curl formed right in front of her forehead.
Her legs began to shorten as well, her mechanic’s boots (something she always wore for comfort and practicality) leaving the floor. As they dangled there in the air, Frida’s upper body began to suck inward as well, as if there were some mysterious force at the center of her body, pulling and tucking her form in. Her arms receded in length, her shoulders pulling in, her height diminishing until she could barely be seen over the surface of the table. The only part of her that remained undiminished was her large, heavy bust.
And most notably, her peachy skin began to turn visibly green, lightening until she sported a nice shade of chartreuse all over her body.
“No, no no no!” Frida raised her arms to pull herself standing on her chair, looking at Lucas in dismay. The straps of her tank top threatened to slip off of her bare shoulders with every movement, and only her mechanics belt which she had just tightened to its deepest notch saved her modesty. “Every potion is lasting less and less time! I took this one just two hours ago!” she wailed.
“Here, may I?” Lucas walked around the table and lifted his just over two feet tall goblin girlfriend into his arms. He sat back down on his side of the table with her in his lap.
“Lucas, what am I going to dooo?”
“I don’t know, Frida. But you know what? I like you in your original body more anyway.”
Frida nuzzled her brunette head against the crook of Lucas’s lowered neck. “Thanks, Lucas,” she whispered.
Emboldened by the embrace of darkness and the aroma of otherworldly incense, the two shared a chaste kiss that quickly blossomed into more. Soon, Frida was grinding her breasts into Lucas’s chest while he supported her with his arms supporting her ass to keep her high enough to kiss. Her green fingers reached into the collar of his shirt and began to explore his broad shoulders. Otherworldly aroma quickly began to mix with the salt of sweat and arousal in their little booth.
“Ahem,” Sharmilla cleared her throat loudly. “There are private booths for this.”
“Oh!” the pair immediately broke their deep snogging, their hearts racing first from excitement, and now from the shock of being caught indecent. “Sorry!” Lucas apologized for the pair. He began to get up, his pants a little too tight.
“Your food?” Sharmilla raised an eyebrow.
“Our fooooood!” Frida echoed.
Lucas grabbed and handed the plates to his goblin girlfriend whom he was still cradling like a doll. She took the platters of chili and chicken, and off the pair went. Along the way, they passed a girl wearing glasses, each individual lens looking like some sort of television display. Her fingers flew over a sleek, transparent glass keyboard attached to a laptop screen that seemed thinner than paper.
The pair would have performed a few takes at the sight, but they were too distracted with other urgent needs.
Sharmilla watched them retreat into the darkness. She’d witnessed this kind of scene too many times before, but even then, the corner of her lip curled into a smile. The impulsiveness and folly of youth, she thought to herself.
Pulsa and Iveen
The rise of supernatural creatures in recent times is quite shocking, the words appeared on a thin glass screen, illuminated on its borders by multicolored lights. It looked like technology out of a futuristic science fiction movie.
It looks like we are entering a new age. Human beings with superpowers, donning costumes and becoming vigilantes. Superheroes, I suppose they’re called. In real life!
But humanity has a long and ugly history with other, different human beings. Not even when they’re first discovered, which is bad, but even after they know they are dealing with animals of the same species as themselves.
The words ceased to appear on the screen as Pulsa sat there, still as silent as before. But her expression was different. Her past was her past, she was divorced from her parents, and long since had she gone through various stages of loss. At this point, it was just calm reflection, perhaps wistfully wondering how her life would be different, and the non-existent nostalgia of that alternate life she lived with those imaginary parents. Saudade, the words appeared on the screen. Then she scoffed at herself, and the word disappeared.
So if humanity can’t even deal with others of their own kind (though they do seem to exalt their superheroes to some extent), then how will they treat these supernatural beings? There are the cults, clans, and other groups who look to persecute, or even worse, but here in The Dragon’s Breath, clearly the opposite is happening. I expect the battle will last a long time, and based on our history, even when the initial war is fought and over, we will have a tenuous peace that is welcomed by most and hatefully tolerated by others, until the next big event bubbles over...
Pulsa cracked her neck loudly, once tilting to the left, then to the right. The eye piece blinked off, and she removed it from her face and shoved it into her seemingly far too small pocket of her vinyl shorts. Somehow, the digital thingamajig disappeared into it, not bulging against her skintight outfit at all, completely disappearing from view.
Placing her dexterous fingers on an equally transparent pane of glass connected to her digital screen, Pulsa’s fingers tapped with expertise despite the fact that the “keyboard” bore absolutely no markings at all. But doubts about her little performance being only for show would have been quickly dispelled as a large, oval portal appeared in their little booth. Through the glowing electric purple energy, a fairly dilapidated interior could be seen, its floor littered with children’s books, their colors faded from both time and plenty of use. It was clearly well lived in, its walls decorated, exuding a warmth that juxtaposed the cold, but well kept home that Pulsa had been raised in.
A series of wet slaps could be heard from the other side. Some cheerful barking, and then a large seal came into view. It bounced across the wooden floor, mouth curved into a playful smile as it came through the portal and appeared to sit like a human on the seat opposite Pulsa.
“I told you I promised I would take you somewhere nice,” Pulsa spoke to the animal as if everything were normal. “I do wish you would come stay with me; it’s not safe for you to live out there in that abandoned place all by yourself. And I do want to reconnect you with your cousin.”
The seal’s flippers raised to her neck, and miraculously, the creature seemed to take its seal head completely off. It—or rather, her—blubbery skin peeled back, revealing a youthful redhead with soft yet still animalistic human features underneath. She slipped the skin off her shoulders, then down her torso, revealing her naked breasts, before peeling the tail end off to kick a pair of slightly fuzzed human legs underneath the table. Then, she folded up her pelt, and carefully placed it next to her on the booth, never to break contact with it.
Iveen, the selkie, looked at Pulsa, clapping her little hands together.
“Agh, I forgot to bring clothes. I’m so sorry!”
Iveen shook her head. Her salty, wet locks bounced around her freckled face.
“Oh yeah. And...”
Pulsa flicked her wrist toward Iveen. A little thought bubble left her hand like a floating cloud, bouncing buoyantly before “attaching” itself to Iveen’s head.
Thank you for bringing me here! I would love it if you could help me find a place... I’m sorry to impose! Iveen bowed her head.
“Not at all. I enjoy your company very much. Talking to you by your lake is one of the things I look forward to the most every week.”
A human shaped golem soon arrived at their table to take their order. Pulsa breathed a sigh of relief that it was just a golem and not an actual human waiter. Iveen had lived her entire life mostly in the nude, naturally, so she thought nothing of it.
Before Pulsa could order, Iveen spoke up first.
“Could I get your freshest fish, please? Raw!” Iveen clapped cheerfully as she placed her first ever request in a human dining establishment.
“And I’ll have... hey, you can talk!?” Pulsa stared at the girl. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“You never asked!” Iveen answered back nonchalantly as her child-like eyes continued to scan the restaurant, giddy with excitement.
Joyvanna and Archie
“May I take these away?” a server dressed smartly in an asymmetrical design, one arm sleeved and one bare, with the Mystic Breath’s dragon logo emblazoned across the front and continuing onto the back. The pair in this private booth were among their most privileged guests.
Archie nodded.
“And any room for dessert?” the human server continued to serve as a golem did the work of actually clearing the table.
Archie mimed looking up toward the sky and made some curled finger squeezy motions with his hands. Joyvanna watched and chuckled as no actual clouds appeared in between his palms.
“We’ll take the cloud souffle,” Joyvanna ordered. “Thanks.”
“Of course, one of our favorites.” The waiter took the dessert menus and strolled away to the rhythm of the live band.
“You know, you’re not in your Gatey Doux form. Your miming is good, but it’s not Gatey good,” Joyvanna teased. “Also, you can talk.”
Archie raised an eyebrow at Joyvanna and waggled a you-should-know-better finger at her. Then, he wrapped both of his hands over an invisible column of air, outlining something cylindrical in nature. As his measured grip traveled up its length, Joyvanna noticed that his fingers seemed to bump up and down, as if traveling over grooved ridges in the object. The motion was quite convincing—but what was it?
He parted his lips and pushed the long, ribbed cylinder into his wet, waiting mouth. The rod pulsed in and out against the hollow concave of his cheek... and seemingly without him using that trick where people would push it from the inside with their tongues!
“Archie! You can do that?” Joyvanna gasped in surprise. And then doubly so because of how overtly sexual he was being in public!
Then, without either of them noticing, the waiter returned with a small cup of the cloud souffle.
Archie gasped and removed the imaginary dildo from his mouth and blushed furiously. Joyvana stifled a giggle, waiting for Archie to notice that the waiter was, in fact, a golem.
After a giggle break, Archie picked up a spoon and dug into the top of the cloud souffle. Though dig was not really the correct choice of words. His spoon pierced through the substance as if it were immaterial.
“Does this...?” Archie broke his voluntary silence, bringing the spoon of fluffy clouds to his mouth. His lips closed over the metal, and his eyes grew wide in shock and surprised delight. “It does have a taste! I can’t believe I’m eating cloud!”
“Sharmilla always sources ingredients from her original world. This is one of the few places on this world where we can get food like this!” Joyvanna declared.
“Wow... I’m so in awe of you, Joyvanna. To know not only that there are other worlds, but to be able to travel to them too...” Archie looked at her wistfully. “I guess that’s what it means to be an Ensient, though.”
“To see other worlds...” Joyvanna mused. “I think it’s more important to live well and do good in the world you inhabit, than to see other worlds.” Her tone carried a hint of sadness. “By the way, speaking of living well, I can’t believe you could use your mime powers without becoming Gatey Doux!”
“I guess more of of you rubbed off on me,” Archie tousled his curly brown hair and looked away shyly.
“Archie, that is so.... Hot!”
“Youuu finkk sshhoo?” Archie mumbled through a mouth stuck full of invisible cock. It pulsed in and out of his mouth this time without even his hand on it. It began to bulge in his throat, and he gagged in response. Jovie could even smell the scent of salty sex beginning to fill the atmosphere!
“Archie! How are you so good at this without being in your mime form!? This is more than I could do, the way I am right now! I’m so glad I got the private booth! I can’t take it anymore!!”
Joyvanna quickly curled her hands and placed both of them on, and then into her forehead, digging into her skin. Then, she clenched her fingers and tore her entire outer layer off, which, if Pulsa saw, she would’ve likened to a selkie. Underneath her Joyvanna suit was the clowny hero Giggiline, complete with asymmetrically colored checkered clown suit, small yellow flower, and red honky nose.
Her body became incorporeal as she stood up and walked straight through the table, throwing herself onto Archie. Her fingers dug underneath the buttons of his shirt, and she ripped off his outer skin as well, revealing his pinstriped mime form, Gatey Doux. Except with no clothes on.
It was then they both had a different sort of ‘dessert’
Sharmilla, dressed in her chef’s coat, carried a cloud souffle of her own from the kitchen to the dining room. The sound of moaning, wet flesh on wet flesh, and most prominently, strident, arrhythmic honking, bombarded her as she made her way down to one of the private booths. The corner of her lip curled into a crooked smile as she sat the cloud souffle down at a table with a blue haired woman.
“What do you think, sister? This world isn’t so bad, is it?” Sharmilla asked.
Leaning forward, she pursed her lips and blew a small flame over the cloud souffle to ignite it. The two dragons caught up on old news and current events as the warm flickering glow and the muffled sounds of the afterhours Mystic Breath continued deep into the night.
