Boots 7 (ver 5) (Patreon)

I'm in Missouri, but I'm still making a little time to write. I'm so excited to get this one done. Hopefully you'll enjoy this little twist...

Boots 1 (ver 5)
Boots 2 (ver 5)
Boots 3 (ver 5)
Boots 4 (ver 5)
Boots 5 (ver 5)
Boots 6 (ver 5)

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Botabriask sat in the middle of his living room floor, stunned and confused about how his life had led him to such a strange place—cursed to exist in a slave’s body! And if that weren’t baffling enough, he’d offered Ykahi a chance at some of the glorious wealth they could gain from using this magic of hers, and she’d … ignored him … to go dancing?

Surely, this had to be some sort of nightmare! Basic economics taught that when rational people were offered a deal that would improve their situation, the logical response would be to take the deal or try to haggle for an even better outcome. But to walk away without even negotiating? That made no sense!

Unless… Could she be playing hard-to-get? Perhaps, she was just leaving him hanging to reinforce that she had all the power, that she could dictate the terms of the deal?

Sure, that would make sense. But if she wanted more than to swap places with his boss, then what would she want? To swap places with the CEO? Someone even more important? Perhaps, the emperor himself?

That would be almost impossible—at least for him to arrange. He didn’t know the first thing about life inside the palace walls. To pass as royalty, he’d first have to learn a near-infinite number of things that he currently knew nothing about.

No, there was only way he could cinch a deal like this. He would lie—agree to whatever terms she set and then betray her at the first opportunity.

His ears grinned wide. The best plans were always the simplest plans.

But the hours passed, and his body didn’t return—Ykahi didn’t bring it back through the front door, nor did the magic wear off so he could go back to being himself. What if she’d gotten his body killed somehow? Would he be stuck as a mammal forever? He hated that notion!

The evening grew late, and without even realizing it, Boots drifted off to sleep for hours at a time, only to wake back up on a living nightmare—that he was still small and fuzzy.

The dawn rose, and still he waited, his stomach doing flips the whole time. Was the spell going to wear off eventually or was it permanent this time? He couldn’t exactly go to work like this. He couldn’t even reach the doorknob! So, he waited and waited and waited. Eventually, his slaves shuffled out of their shoebox home and got to work cleaning his apartment.

He wanted to shout at them but had no idea what to say. Should he tell them to stay inside, not to come out and see what he’d become? No, then he’d first have to convince them that he was Botabriask. How awful, trying to defend his very existence! So, he continued sitting in silence, waiting.

“Ykahi? What are you doing here?” called a round female as she trudged his way. “Our owner’s not here. He works on weekdays.”

“I know,” Boots grumbled too quietly for her to hear. His ears hung low, his chin against his chest. “Why don’t you just leave—” he started to say, but she interrupted with the most intriguing of questions…

“How goes your potion?” she asked. “Ready to try it out yet?”

Ears pricked, his muzzle clicked shut, and he stared at the dark brown geroo. He had no idea what her name was—nor the names of any of his slaves for that matter—but he absolutely needed to know whatever information she might be privy to. “Uh … almost,” he said, careful not to greet her. “Yeah, it’s really close.”

“Oh, good,” she said, taking a moment to rub her palms together. “I can’t wait to see the look on his big stupid face when you do it!”

“Hey!” Boots said angrily before realizing that the ringel he was impersonating wouldn’t have been offended. The geroo stared at him, eyes and ears open wide. He recovered with, “It … uh … won’t be his face at that point. He’ll be in my body then,” he reminded her.

“Oh, right, right, right! I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean anything about your face.” She reached out and gently stroked his cheek. He dug his short claws into his palms, willing himself not to shove her paw away.

“Of course not,” he grumbled, but inside he seethed. Such impertinence from his own slave. He should crush her slowly to blood and screams, but first, he needed information!

“You don’t look so great, hon. Did you stay up too late again?” asked the geroo. Offering her paw, she added, “C’mon, let’s get you some food and a safe place to rest.”

They held paws as they walked and Botabriask ran through dozens of scenarios in his mind, trying to think of ways to get the geroo talking without revealing what he didn’t know. “Uh, it’s funny,” he said, “I think you’re even more excited about this potion than I am.”

That made her smile but only for a moment. Then, she pointed to another female, curled up on the carpet. “That’s Gusma, my sister-in-law,” she explained. “She won’t talk, barely eats, all she does is mourn. Boots destroyed her by murdering her daughter.”

“Murdered?” he scoffed. “It was an accident… Uh, I’m certain it must have been,” he quickly added when her ears looked shocked.

“Perhaps,” the geroo said with a shrug. “Not that it would make any difference to Gusma. I don’t know if she’ll ever try again. I don’t know if I could. She was her only cub…”

The geroo brought her to the shoebox and tried to lead her inside, but Botabriask balked, recalling Ykahi’s warning not to go inside or under anything before the spell wore off. “I’d … rather stay out here on the carpet,” he whispered.

With a nod, she ducked inside and returned a moment later with some soup. Though bland and cold, it made him realize just how hungry he was, and he gobbled it down with gusto. “So,” Botabriask said around a spoonful of soup, “I take it that this is the extent of your interest in transforming your owner, just the punishment aspect?”

The geroo snorted a laugh. “Being transformed into a mammal is hardly punishment,” she said. “Honestly, I feel more sorry about the sacrifice you’ll be making for us.”

“Sacrifice?” he asked, ears high.

“Having to live your life as a reptile,” she explained. Then, she reached over and squeezed the krakun-turned-ringel’s paw. “But I just know you will be kinder and more considerate than Boots—blaring his music so the cubs can’t sleep, forcing us all to live crammed into that tiny box. We’ll gladly keep your apartment clean, Ykahi, but every time I think about how he almost killed Roli with that bottle, I can’t stop crying.”

Boots stewed, staring angrily into his soup and grinding his teeth so hard that he couldn’t open his muzzle to eat more. Roli’s mate seemed to take this as anger toward her owner and didn’t question the reaction. She just put an arm around Boot’s shoulders and leaned her head against him.

“Yes, well,” he grumbled, “I just need to perfect the potion.”

“Do you need anything else?”

Else? he yelled inside his head. So, now his own slaves were contributing ingredients—his ingredients no doubt—to bring about his downfall? Oh, there would be punishments when this misadventure concluded. Oh, such severe punishments! When he obtained Ykahi’s potion and used it to obtain his own riches, he’d have no need of this crew any longer, and they could all get the sticky end they so richly deserved!

But how? Clearly, he had misjudged the ringel. She didn’t have any grand desires. She ignored his offer because she didn’t care about money. What a moron! She just wanted revenge or to protect her friends.

That put him in a bind. He needed a new plan—something that didn’t involve his own punishment. So, what could he offer her? If Ykahi would work with him, he’d have plenty of extra golds. He’d be able to offer them almost anything. Don’t want to be his slaves anymore? Done. He could even give them luxury and lives of leisure. But he needed to end up in the body of a krakun with power—not in the body of a puny mammal. He couldn’t accomplish anything as the super’s pet!

He needed the potion!

But then again, he looked like Ykahi at the moment. He could just walk down to 1B and…

He slapped his forehead. No, he couldn’t. He needed to wait for her to perfect the formula. The potion would do him no good if the effect wasn’t permanent.

The geroo cocked her head. “You okay, hon?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Boots, “just thinking about magic ingredients and spells, what I still need to adjust.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep you,” said the geroo. “Don’t mind me. If you want to get back to your sanctum and work on your potion, I won’t be offended.”

Oh, now he had her! If he could just keep her talking. He acted like he was focused on his soup, trying not to grin nor give away just how closely he was studying her. He nodded and muttered, “My sanctum…” just loud enough for her to hear.

“Uh, is that the right term?” she asked. “Up on top of your fridge where you said you do all your experimentation?”

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Reviewer's link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Ru5m1mXu47X1-6pHJBQ42Zlz9saGS2zijrbb7l-_8qk/edit?usp=sharing

Thoughts?