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Mizella - The White Knight
🕑 Added 2020-09-02 18:01:00 +0000 UTCThe bar was unusually quiet tonight, especially for a Saturday, but he wasn’t complaining. More options, and less competition. The less he had to work to claim his prize, the better. Doubly so if he could get past first base.
The rat man (tall, grey and at least passably handsome) nursed his whiskey sours as he picked up on bits of conversations around him. His ears flicked as an argument -- definitely one-sided -- arose at the far end of the bar. A raccoon in his early thirties aired his frustrations out towards a woman minding her own business, sipping on a drink served in a highball glass, which was mostly ice at this point. The rat grinned wryly; it was as if a goddess dropped a golden opportunity right into his lap. Besides, he had at least a foot on the raccoon, and knew how to throw at least one solid punch if he needed a bit of leverage. Easy.
Finishing his drink, the rodent stood up from his stool, wandering over to the table. He only caught a glimpse of what the other man was arguing about -- something or another about politics. He didn’t know, and didn’t care. The rat’s hand clamped down on the raccoon’s shoulder. Incensed, the raccoon whipped around, his face crooked in anger.
“What the hell’s your problem?” he shouted. The rodent gave him a knowing smirk.
“No problem at all. Well, except for the fact you’re bothering this lovely young woman. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll back off.”
The raccoon eyed his adversary, squaring him up. Expression drooping, he scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“Whatever,” he spat out. “I’m done wasting my breath. Have fun with your Ice Queen.” The raccoon shoved his hands into his pockets as he slinked off, finding an empty stool at the bar where he could soothe his bruised ego with as much alcohol as he could swallow down.
The rat chuckled quietly, fingers brushing at the collar of his shirt. “Too easy,” he muttered under his breath. He turned his attention to the skunk lady, who placed her glass down on the table. She seemed to make herself right at home, lounging across a sizable portion of the bench, wearing a flowing blue dress, her streaked black-and-white hair tied up in a ponytail. Ears glittered with hoop piercings as she gave the rat a small smile, toes curling slightly against her sandals. She was a bit of the heavy side, but he didn’t mind. He liked a woman with a bit of meat on her bones. And there was her tail, too -- voluminous, well-groomed, and luxuriously spread across her legs like a blanket. He couldn’t wait to get lost in those stripes.
“Sorry about that guy,” the rat said in a gentlemanly fashion. “Some guys aren’t good at taking hints.”
The skunk lady looked slightly bored, but kept her smile going. “He wouldn’t be the first.”
The rat’s eyebrow twitched slightly. He expected her to be wary, and laced insults were all just part of the game. All he had to do was soften her up, and there was no better cure for that than alcohol -- and lots of it.
“Would you mind if I bought you a drink? No pressure, of course.”
The skunk shrugged. “If you want. I won’t turn down free booze.”
“Excellent,” the rat said, sitting down in a chair placed opposite the bench where the skunk laid. He snapped his fingers at a bartender making the rounds -- another rat whose vexed expression said more than words could. “What are you drinking?”
“Gin Collins, with limoncello. Splash of mint.”
The rat grinned. “Huh, didn’t know this place served lemon jello shots.” Both the skunk and the bartender shared skeptical glances. The rodent’s face ran hot as he backpedaled. “Kidding, kidding!” Running a hand through his hair, he looked up at the bartender, who impatiently tapped his notepad with the tip of his pen. “I’ll have what she’s having.”
“Very well,” he grumbled, hastily jotting down the order before returning to the bar. With the order placed, the rat returned his attention towards the lounging lady.
“I’m Daniel, by the way.” The rat offered his hand to her. She sat up languidly to take it, more out of courtesy than genuine interest.
“Mizella,” she said curtly.
“Mizella. That’s a lovely name for a lovely skunk.”
Mizella’s face remained cordial as she draped her tail over the spot she once laid over, ears flicking. “Thank you. I’ve been told that quite a lot.”
“I can see why. And I must say, you look rather fetching in that dress of yours. Italian?”
Mizella raised an eyebrow. “Um, I purchased it at Yvette’s, if that’s what you mean.”
Daniel blinked. “Erm. Yes. My apologies.” The drinks arrived as Daniel continued to stumble over his attempts, quick to take a sip. The cocktail itself tasted sharp, with a splash of citrus that contrasted rather nicely with the flavor of juniper. “You have wonderful taste in drinks.”
“More flattery. I can’t imagine why you don’t have a date.” Mizella raised her own glass, sipping at its contents. “So, why the sudden interest?”
Ignoring the skunk’s jab, Daniel placed his drink down, leaning forward. “I can’t just stand by when a lady is in distress. Guys like him only care about one thing,” he said, tilting his head to gesture at the raccoon in the corner, who settled on a large draft beer to drown his sorrows.
“And you’re different from him...how?”
“Well, I actually care, for starters. Women aren’t trophies to be claimed. They’re people, and it pains me when some horny jerk decides to take advantage of a woman just to satisfy his own selfish needs.”
“I see.” Mizella had placed her drink down as well, leaning forward as she traced her finger across the surface of the table. A nervous tick, Daniel surmised.
“Someone like you deserves so much more than a one-night stand. You want a guy who’s sensitive, caring, actually listens to their partner --”
“Like you?”
“Um.” Daniel pressed a hand to his chest in faux-surprise. “Well, I don’t want to toot my own horn, but --”
“Listen, Daniel.” Mizella leaned forward, widening her smile. “You’re very sweet, and I appreciate you buying me a drink, but I don’t think this is going where you’re expecting it to.”
A flash of anger crossed Daniel’s face. “B-but...I wasn’t implying --”
“I’ve been around the block more than once to know what you’re trying to do.” Her sweet smile curled back into a coy grin as she continued to massage the table with her index finger. “White knights like you always expect to ride off into the sunset with their trophy lay just because you did them a single favor. Do you even know why that raccoon was so upset?”
Daniel’s face began to twist in subconscious fury. “Hey, don’t you dare lump me in with that asshole. I was trying to help you!”
“And I...appreciate that.” The skunk lady’s tail twitched, thumping the bench with a shocking amount of force, as if she were putting a hint of power behind it. “But if you’re looking for more than a conversation, then I suggest you stop while you have the chance. Of course, if you actually want to chat, I’m all for it. Are you into botany, by chance? Fascinating stuff, if you want to learn --”
“Oh my God, are you serious?” Daniel rose from his chair like a bolt of lightning, drawing attention from the bar’s other patrons, along with the raccoon and bartender, who both gave him a bewildered stare. “I don’t care!”
Mizella leaned back in her seat, a hurt expression on her face. “You don’t have to be so rude --”
“God, you women are all the same! I was nice to you and everything! Is it so friggin’ hard to get you to sleep with me?”
“Wow. You really went there. Alright, then.”
Mizella took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she opened them, there was an energy, a spark that was absent moments ago. Her grin turned mischievous as she reached across to grab at a candlestick placed at the center of the table. Most of the candle’s wax was spent, and it was on the last of its wick, but it would serve its purpose.
“Yeah, I went there. So what?”
“That’s a real shame, Daniel. And here I thought you were a nice guy, even if it was all an act. I can see just how twisted your soul is, and I didn’t even need to use my magic for that.”
“Magic?” The rat blinked, confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“This.” Cupping her free hand around the candle, the skunk woman gently blew on the flickering flame. Instead of extinguishing it, her breath caused that flame to extend across the center of the table, before vanishing as quickly as it appeared. The rat backed away in shock as a magical circle appeared once the fire dissipated, glowing with a faint purple light. “Thanks for giving me the time to draw this, by the way. I hope you don’t mind if I borrow your drink.” The skunk wrapped her fingers around his glass before he had time to pull it away, placing it in the center of the circle. Not that he would have tried; he was far too flabbergasted to realize what was going on as all eyes fell on him.
“W-wait...how did you do that? What are you, some kind of witch?”
Mizella smiled, shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe. But I think you have bigger concerns to worry about.” Her finger tapped the outer edge of the circle, the tips of her fingers glowing the same vibrant use as the symbol. “Since you were so determined to have me, I’ll meet you halfway. You and I are bonded, now.”
“Bonded? Okay, you’re freaking me out, lady. I’m out of here.” Daniel tried to turn his body around -- and couldn’t. Everything felt heavy and numb all at once as his arms fell to his sides. His eyes widened in terror, as even speaking became a struggle. “W...what the hell? I...I can’t move!”
“Of course you can’t. Not without my permission, anyway. All it took was a little bit of your life force to make you mine, so you speak. You really shouldn’t slobber all over your glass, by the way. That’s just gross.”
“This...this isn’t funny! Let me...let me go!” Daniel tried to twist, wriggle, anything -- even a fart would suffice at this point -- but his efforts were in vain as his energy gave out. Mizella’s grin widened, full of unusually sharp teeth.
“Oh, I will. But not before I’ve had a little fun with you. And since you were so determined to get me out of my dress, why don’t we get you out of those clothes, first.” Raising her right hand, she curled her fingers slightly, then extended them, flicking her hand to the right.
In an instant, Daniel felt his body being tugged in that direction, his feet still planted. The force wasn’t enough to topple him over, but it was enough to send his shirt flying off of his body, landing in tatters on the ground. His eyes widened as he stood there half-naked, his lanky form exposed for all to see.
“Ack! W...what the fuck? S-stop it! I don’t deserve this!”
“I disagree.” Mizella waved her hand towards him, as if to beckon him closer -- or at least, a part of him.
His pants were next to go, the denim coming apart at the seams as the ruined material gathered around his feet, leaving him in his boxers. He instinctively tried to cover himself -- forgetting he still couldn’t move, instead fidgeting in place. His eyes darted around, and the few people he could see gave him equally shared looks of mockery and bewilderment.
“Okay! Okay, I...I get it, I screwed up! I shouldn’t have tried to force you to sleep with me. Please, just...let me go, okay?” Daniel pleaded.
“Oh, we’re not done, yet, little rat.” Her index finger curled toward the floor, slowly, as the rat felt his underwear slipping off his hips. Upon seeing what was between the rat’s legs, Mizella blinked, then let out a chuckle. “Oh my. No wonder you’re so desperate. I’d be embarrassed if I were you, too.” Her finger flicked back up as Daniel’s underwear slipped back in place, the back end stopping just below the base of his tail.
Daniel stammered again, his face and ears bright red, and incredibly hot. He could hear snickering from behind him. One person laughed, then two. Three. Four. He closed his eyes, trying to shut the laughter out as it built up around him. Why wasn’t anyone helping him?
“You...you bitch...when I get out of this, so help me --”
A jerking motion forced him to bend forward, staring into Mizella’s amber eyes, each of them glowing a shade of lavender as he stared deep inside each one. His thoughts began to blend into an indescribable mess as everything grew hazy.
“Climb onto the table,” she said. He obeyed without question, climbing on top of its surface. “There’s a good little rat.”
Daniel regained just enough of his senses to look down at the skunk from his higher vantage point. “W...why do you keep calling me little? I’m taller than you are!”
“Not anymore.” Mizella pressed two fingers to her lips, blowing the rat a kiss. He could feel a warmth spread across his cheek, flowing through his body and down all of his extremities. Every inch of his body felt uncomfortably hot as vertigo caused his head to spin. His perspective began to dwindle, as did his height, as he found his underwear pooling around his feet, his hips too narrow to hold them upright any longer. His long tail twitched as Daniel looked at the now-taller skunk in a daze, as if the alcohol kicked in all at once. He stumbled forward as his head spun, grasping at the edge of his drink glass for support. His limbs failed him as he nearly toppled over, the glass slowly rising past his waist. His chest. His head.
Now dangling off the rim of the old-fashioned glass, Daniel looked up at Mizella, her eyes a deep, swirling shade of violet. Her fingers drummed against the table, each tap a thunderous thump to the rodent. She practically filled his entire vision.
Wait. No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t just the perspective. The nightclub vanished around him entirely as did the cup he dangled off of so precariously, leaving just him and the skunk magician alone in a dark void, its hue matching the color of her eyes. He felt so very small, and she looked so very big.
“Aww, aren’t you just precious?” Mizella’s voice cooed as Daniel found himself literally drowning in the atmosphere. He let out a chirp as she appeared to rise up out of her seat. Except she was still sitting down.
He wasn’t just getting smaller. She was growing.
“N...no more...please,” Daniel whimpered.
“Oh, we’re just getting started!” The skunk continued to tower over him, her clothing tightening against her expanding figure. “Or does it upset you that I’m taller than you are? You seem like the kind of guy who’s intimidated by a tall woman.”
Daniel shook his head. Everything felt fuzzy. Even his tongue seemed covered in a thin layer of fur that made it impossible for him to talk straight. “No...taller women are...hot…” His cheeks grew even hotter. What possessed him to say that?
“Good! I couldn’t agree more!” Mizella’s arms wrapped underneath her chest, as each breath seemed to make her bosom burgeon against her dress. “Because I like being big, Daniel. And nothing excites me more than getting bigger.”
Daniel’s eyes widened. Her height nearly doubled in that instant. Her clothing was at its limit.
“And bigger.”
Rip. Creak. A moan filled the space. Mizella licked at her lips, literally encompassing everything, now.
“And bigger.”
Daniel’s eyes rolled back in his head; his last thought was of Mizella’s grinning face casting a dark shadow over him, teeth twice as tall as he was. Her maw opened wide as she loomed large and powerful over his miniscule form.
And in the blink of an eye, her jaws clamped down underneath him.
*************************
Mizella let out a pleasant trill as she stood up from her seat once the rat lost consciousness. Despite being barely three inches tall, his loud snoring was impressive. She approached the bartender, his eyes bulging wide as she leaned forward. Every eye was on her now, all of them flabbergasted at what they just witnessed.
“My God,” the bartender whimpered, cowering against the wall, his back rattling the shelves, and nearly tipping over a few bottles of expensive liquor in the process. “P-please, don’t hurt me…”
“Oh, don’t get yourself all worked up. You’ll give yourself wrinkles.” Mizella’s hands reached for a small bowl of complimentary pretzel sticks left out for those needing something to soak up the alcohol. Despite her shorter stature, she gave off a presence that felt at once imposing and incredibly powerful.
“W...what do you want?”
“I just wanted to apologize. I don’t like being showy like this, but some guys aren’t good at taking a hint.” Mizella quietly chewed on the salty snack, making small crunching sounds.
“Is...is he --”
“No, he’s not dead. He may want to get that snoring checked, though.”
“No, I mean...is he stuck that way?”
Mizella gave Daniel a cursory glance, then shrugged. “Nah. At least, I don’t think so. He should return to normal. Eventually. It’s kind of hard to tell.”
The bartender swallowed, his pink hands shaking as he reached below the bar for a glass. “M-may I...um, pour you another drink? Heh, never served a goddess before --”
“Whoa. I’m no goddess. At least, I don’t feel like one. Not right now, anyway.” Mizella smiled wide. “I shouldn’t have any more tonight, though.”
“A-alright, if you say so, miss…?”
“Mizella, but you don’t need to remember that. You won’t remember much in the next two minutes, anyway.” Mizella reached into her bag, pulling out a small velvet pouch. Her fingers dipped into it, producing a shimmering blue powder. The rat server’s eyes watched as Mizella brought a small handful to her muzzle, blowing gently. The powder glittered in the dim light, spreading across every corner of the nightclub. The sounds of clattering plates and spilled glasses followed as every single patron fell over, fast asleep within seconds. The rat bartender was no exception, his vision growing dark. Mizella’s smile was the last thing he could recall before he slumped over.
*************************
The bartender’s eyes fluttered as he slowly came to, feeling unusually refreshed as he sat up, stifling a yawn. He couldn’t recall the last time he felt so rested.
He wasn’t sure why he was on the floor, though. Or why he wasn’t the only one who sounded like they were just waking up.
Working himself up to his feet, the rat looked around, noticing a pile of clothing scattered across a table on the far end of the bar, but nothing else otherwise amiss, save for a note left on the bar, and a pair of boxers next to it. Several bills of large denomination were placed on top of the note, which the bartender pulled out to read, a purple kiss mark left on the bottom right portion of the note.
“Hello, Mr. Bartender,
By the time you read this note, I’ll have left your establishment. You won’t remember who I am, but don’t worry. Think of me as a satisfied customer. I’ve left enough to cover my tab, and to buy everyone else a drink too, as an apology for any trouble I might have caused. Consider it my treat! I’ll be coming back for sure! Thank you once again!
Regards,
M”
The bartender scratched his head, then looked at the time. 12:30 AM. He remembered the clock was just past eleven before everything went black. Not that it mattered, he supposed; whoever left the note also left enough cash behind to make debating what-ifs a moot point.
His index finger rubbed over a folded portion of the paper, just underneath the lipstick. He pulled the paper back and read a final, scrawled-in portion, blinking once.
“P.S. The little guy next to you isn’t included. Don’t serve him. He’s a total prick.”
“What the hell,” he muttered, his attention now drawn to the boxers, noticing a bit of movement underneath the cloth. He pulled the underwear back and gasped as a grey rat, barely three inches tall, remained fast asleep, a wide smile on his face.
