Chapter Text
Once upon a time…
Trevor wasn't looking for adventure. He was the simple son of the town's shoemaker. The stories his grandmother used to tell him, though, as the family gathered around the fireplace, had always enthralled him, especially the ones about the Fox Demon.
“She lives in the very woods that border our village, children. She doesn't often bring any harm, but is a cunning trickster,” Grandmother had told him and his brothers and sisters. “She has silver eyes and a silver tongue. She finds favor among merchants, traders, and actors. And they often find favor with her. As well as her cunning, crafty mind, the Fox Demon is known far and wide for her beauty and grace. She appears as a human woman with moonlight skin and fiery hair, and she has the ears and tail of a fox. She is clad in tree bark and flowers, and is a solitary creature. They say she had a mate once, but he was trapped and killed by a hunting party from the next village. She has since forever grieved him. When her grief gives her a spiteful sharpness, those who dare make a bargain with her had better have all their wits about them. As I said, she doesn't often harm, but she's a sly one.”
Trevor had thought of these stories, this mysterious lady. Even as a small child, he'd gotten it in his head to find her forest den and comfort her. Perhaps the fox lady wanted cubs. He wouldn't mind giving himself to a fox demon, if she would adopt a mortal child. But he couldn't leave his family, his parents and siblings needed him. Still, the memory remained, often visiting him in dreams to seek the fox demon out, if only to relieve her loneliness for a little while. Whenever mischief of any sort occurred in his small village—a goat breaking out of his pen, the teacher losing her lesson books, thus dismissing the class for the day, the town's dyer's tubs turning all the wrong colors—Trevor secretly imagined and hoped that it was the Fox Demon visiting the village.
One day, it could not be denied that Trevor had become a man. His family and others in the village had gradually ceased treating him like he was but a truant child, and he was given more freedoms at home. He was deemed old enough to take a wife, and had begun to find his thoughts swayed to such things. And then, he heard his grandmother retelling the old stories to his older siblings' children. Memories of the Fox Demon were rekindled, and he was once again gripped with the desire to seek her out. Perhaps she would aid his ventures, his fortunes, now that he was a man. He was expected to take on the family trade, as was customary. He'd learned shoemaking from his father since he was old enough to peer over his workbench, standing atop a wobbly stool. Not the worst way to make a living. He'd found practicing it to be quite calming and satisfying, especially as he'd gotten older and could be a real help to his father. His grandmother said that the Fox Demon found favor among merchants. Well, a shoemaker wasn't a very glamorous merchant, no spice trader or seafarer, but technically...
He made up his mind to go to the woods. He had no real hope of her aiding his business enterprises, but he remembered once again his desire simply to behold her, and to perhaps keep her company if she desired it. If she desired him. Trevor wondered if the stories of her beauty were exaggerated. She might be a gnarled old thing with horns and fangs, sharp claws and fiery breath!
He shrugged to himself as he put on his hat, drew a green cloak around his shoulders, clasped it with a brooch, and took his walking stick from the front door. “Even so, it wouldn't hurt to befriend such a creature.” He took a canvas satchel from a peg by the door, tucked in a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a couple of apples, along with a full waterskin. He also took the blanket off of his bed, rolled it up, and tied it to sling over his shoulder as well. He had no idea how far he would have to journey. Last of all, he thrust a sharp dagger into his belt and a pocketed a piece of flint from the basket of them near the fireplace.
“There,” Trevor said to himself, feeling a little nervous now. “I'm as ready as I can be.” He took what could be one last look at his family's home. Letting out a wistful sigh, he strode out to meet his fortune.
With a sudden grip of sentimentality, he made one last trip out to the barn to say goodbye to the goats. After giving them all a final stroke and scratch around the horns, Trevor also took the lantern that was hanging by the door, shook it to make sure it was fairly full of oil, and lit it. Now, he was ready to go.
It was silly. This had been Trevor's dream since he was a child. Why was he hesitating now? He shook his head, steeled himself, and strode off into the woods. He and everyone else in the village had all been a short way into it, to gather herbs, berries, and hazel rods. Some hunted rabbits and squirrels, but Trevor's own family was well enough off that they didn't need to rely on wild meats. Therefore, his experience in the woods was minimal. It had always seemed such a fairy tale place, even though it was just outside the town, always within view. Like it was watching over them. What a cozy thought.
It seemed right that he set out at sunset for such a venture. That's how it always went in the stories! Trevor scoffed at his own whimsy. He was a grown man, and his feet were still led by old fairy tales.
After wandering aimlessly in the woods for a couple of hours, Trevor ought to have been disappointed not to have found the Fox Demon yet. Instead, he was excited! He threw down his satchel and bedroll, lit a small, cozy fire, and made camp for the night. To sleep outdoors! In the wild woods of his grandmother's stories! This was his kind of adventure! Using his dagger, Trevor sliced bread and cheese and toasted it over the fire. He only ate a little, he was too wound up to have much of an appetite. Besides, he had to save some for tomorrow! He was really on his way! Drowsiness soon overtook him. He banked the fire with ashes, wrapped up in his blanket, and fell asleep.
The next morning, Trevor awoke to the sound of birds singing sharply overhead. He sat up, working his stiff back a bit. He wasn't used to sleeping on the cold ground! They always left that part out of the stories. Finding himself much hungrier this morning, he ate a good, quick breakfast before clearing his camp and packing back up to continue his journey. Too late, he thought that he ought to be chronicling his adventure somehow, but decided no. Nothing had really even happened yet! He whistled as he walked, looking up at the thick green canopy of the forest. This forest had been old even when his grandmother was a little girl. It made him marvel to think about! He hoped he would find the wily Fox Demon, and be able to return home to tell the tale. Would he need to take some proof back with him, or would he count on his family and neighbors to believe him at his own word? A more bloodthirsty adventurer would bring her tail back as a trophy. Trevor shuddered. No, nothing like that. Grandmother had told him that she was clad in tree bark and flowers. Perhaps that? But how would he prove that it was hers and not just any old flowers from the forest? Maybe the ones she wore were magic?
Hours later, just as night was truly closing in, fireflies were peeping out, filling the woods with their sparkles. Struck by an odd fancy, he followed after a cluster of them, letting them lead him where they will. A hazy green glow appeared in lazy swirls just ahead of him as well. He'd gone less than a dozen paces before his brain hit upon the word “foxfire”. This lifted Trevor's spirits considerably! He followed it, it seemed to beckon him, urging him forward! He entered a clearing, all a-twinkle with fireflies, foxfire, starlight, and the full moon. Trevor adjusted his packs, staring up and around in wonder! He saw a more earthly glow of an ordinary-looking fire coming from a small cavern to his left. There, against all odds, Trevor came face to face with the Fox Demon!
He found he could do nothing but stare at her in awe. She smiled at him, completely unalarmed.
“Come in, mortal, and welcome. Never fear; if you were in any danger, you would be dead already,” she greeted him in low, sultry tones. She rose from her seat and approached him with a titter, swishing her long, fluffy red tail. Trevor advanced a few shaking steps as well, as near to her as he dared. There was no mistaking it, it was her! And if anything, the stories hadn't done her justice! She looked simultaneously as old as the forest itself and as young as the evening's glistening dew. A beautiful woman, a wild animal, a demon, an angel. No, this was no angel. A trickster, though, nothing malicious. Trevor relaxed and attempted a winning smile. The Fox Demon gave him a guileful smile in return, touching him under then chin with a single finger.
“And what do I do with a young adventurer now that I have one in my clutches?” she cooed thoughtfully, drawing her fingers through his soft, dark hair. She removed his hat and tossed it aside; she took his walking stick from his limp fingers and let it clatter to the floor. The beautiful demon then made a careless gesture with her hand, and her guest's packs floated off of his shoulders and settled themselves on the floor by his other possessions.
Trevor barely noticed this. He found he could only gape, his eyes losing focus. All he wanted right now was to scratch her behind those fox's ears! To kiss that pale, soft neck!
The Fox Demon turned away, flouncing her tail at him before lounging in a throne of leaves, twisted branches, and stone. She looked up at him from her seat of repose. “You desire me, mortal?” She looked as though the thought amused her. “You dare look upon me with lust, when we haven't even properly met?” Despite her smile, there was no joke or irony in her tone. For the Old Things, manners were the height of importance.
“What is your name, my lady? Your Craftiness? I am Trevor, son of the shoemaker. From the village of Woodstone Greene.”
“My name,” she returned, “is far beyond your human ability to say. You may call me Hetty.” Slowly, slowly, he was drawn irresistibly to her, until he knelt at her lap, gazing reverently. Hetty touched him lightly around the face, ruffling his hair with a saucy smile. “There. Now we're acquainted. One must observe the proper rituals, after all. They are so...important.” She lay back, swishing her tail, enticing her visitor.
Bravely, boldly, stupidly, Trevor drew a hand up her cheek, then up through her coppery hair, to grasp a pointed fox ear. Her curly human hair transitioned smoothly to fox's sleek fur, it was utterly enchanting! “If...I may, Hetty?”
“You already have,” she mewled, enjoying that touch very much! “Now...what else would you have of me?”
“I would behold your loveliness, and admire your cunning.”
“And sire my kits?” Hetty lilted, wrapping her arms around him and pulling his body flush with hers! She bent down and sank pointed, inhuman teeth into him, biting softly, yet firmly into his shoulder. Claiming him. Trevor winced slightly, but submitted to this. She flicked her tail around him snugly; he twitched an instinctive struggle, but quickly stilled amid his arousal.
He fumbled with Hetty's wrap of birch bark and flowers. Tucking one of the flowers behind his ear, Hetty chuckled wickedly, eager to receive him.
“Come. Now. The moon is in its season. You may have this wish of yours tonight.” Her frail garments fell away, as if by mere thought. She lay there, waiting, her double cleavage exposed.
Trevor stared, his jaw hanging loose. Then, he looked back at her face, enthralled! “Oh...yes! I wish for this!” He sank into her, kissing her neck, her breasts. She let out a pleased screech and clutched him to her, enveloping him in her arms, legs, and tail.
“Oh, my Vixen, my crafty, cunning Vixen! I've heard stories of you since I was a boy. It's long been my wish to...meet you. Teach me...mmm...teach me of your wily ways!”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Hetty tutted disapprovingly. “What does a shoemaker need with wily ways? I don't grant favors above one's need or ability. Far too many mortals would run amok otherwise. What I grant you tonight is far more to your taste, I promise you.” She punctuated this by rubbing her cheek against his, marking him with her musk. She gave him a nip on the ear with a musical giggle. Trevor pawed helplessly at her breasts, enchanted while she stroked his hair, her tail wrapped snugly around his waist. She was enjoying her new toy!
His head was swimming in lust and fox musk, he slipped his hands down under her to grasp her bottom, giving the base of her tail a scratch. She yelped in pleasant surprise! He cupped her, spreading her cheeks, then began wrestling with unlacing the fly on his breeches with one hand.
“Devil take these accursed things!” Trevor grunted. “I hate them! They plague me!”
“Would you give them to me?” Hetty inquired, as if merely curious. Her face the complete picture of innocence.
“I would if I could!” he growled in mid-struggle. The laces were in a confounded knot!
“Truly?”
“Yes, truly! You can have them forever if you like!”
The trickster broke into a smug grin and his trousers vanished without a trace. Forever.
For now, Trevor didn't question Hetty's magic. He was only too glad to be rid of the offending garment that he didn't care where they disappeared to. He let out a growl of his own and seized her, hands stroking down the light, downy fur along her sides. “Um...it's my first time,” he confessed awkwardly, glad to finally give his erection some air. He felt...tightly-wound, hot, and admittedly nervous. He hoped that Hetty would be willing and patient enough to guide him somewhat. He had a pretty good idea what was supposed to happen, but never in a million years would he have imagined getting called upon to pleasure the fox demon of the woods.
Hetty looked down at his cock with a thoughtful pout. She stroked the tip with a curious finger. It twitched, stiffening even more. Trevor grunted pitifully, sweat beading on his brow. “I'm ready for you, my young adventurer. I choose you,” she whispered, kissing his cheek and neck, drawing his face to her bosom once again.
Trevor groaned into her breasts, growing more rigid and ready. “S-so, uh, how? Do I just...?” he mumbled into her flesh. He felt compelled to kiss and lap and nuzzle them. Strangely, they seemed to grow lightly furry as he did so, but he found nothing wrong with that. Was Hetty becoming foxier in her own arousal? He felt her cradle his head in her softness. He wondered briefly if this was all a trick and she meant to smother him in her breasts. That wouldn't be a bad way to go, Trevor allowed. But no, she didn't prevent him from sitting up and adjusting himself.
It was true, she was certainly furrier than she had been when he arrived. He stared in fascination, stroking her soft legs, utterly aroused yet befuddled.
“Kiss me there, please,” Hetty helpfully instructed, indicating her inner thigh. “And then, just...follow your nose.”
At first, Trevor was confused. That second part didn't sound entirely helpful. Until he performed her first command. He kissed her inner thigh, thankfully that part wasn't covered in fur. And he was hit with another powerful whiff of fox musk, this time it was coming from her...oh wow...there it was right in front of him. Warm, wet, inviting. He let out a quavering moan before giving those lower lips a kiss he'd never forget.
Hetty purred pleasurably, lying back in repose. She felt a wonderful little accidental nuzzle and broke into a smile. “There, like that. Mmm, clean me!” she groaned, hoping that will give him the right idea. She didn't expect anything much, what with him being a human and his first time. She knew better than to put her hopes too high. Still, she was determined to enjoy it. Sex was like pie: even if it's not great, it's still pretty good. She felt Trevor give her a few cautious licks, as if he wasn't sure he was doing this right. She gave him a few encouraging moans to keep him going and let him know he was on the right track, but then he stopped, making her face contort into a scowl. Hetty pondered, having half a mind to hex him into obedience. She could make him keep going, whether he liked it or not but...ugh, he didn't deserve that. He was an innocent mortal. Next, she felt him cautiously enter her. Carefully, as though he was trying not to hurt her. Hetty supposed that was...sweet, despite preferring a firmer hand herself.
Trevor felt her surround him in her warmth. The minute he was buried within her, he had a vague idea what to do. He hoped it would come naturally, or that she would perhaps offer some guidance. He was grateful for her previous advice! He would have had no idea that she would have enjoyed being licked down there! Strange, but not entirely unpleasant. He'd have to ask her more about that if he was allowed to.
“More,” Hetty commanded. “Mmm, harder! Deeper! Oh, and Trevor?”
“Hmm?”
Hetty took his first two fingers on his right hand and placed them atop her soft mound, directing his fingers to circle her clitoris while she groaned in satisfaction. “Like that, while you...thrust.”
“That's something you...like?” Trevor panted. This had already been strenuous, he wasn't used to this kind of work!
“Don't wear yourself out, pace yourself,” Hetty advised, still drawing circles around herself with his fingers, stroking herself in a perfect rhythm. She hoped that if she took her coaching hand away, he'd continue and not assume it was time to stop.
He thankfully kept it up, stroking her from without and within, guided by her pleased noises. Trevor wondered to himself if he was truly pleasing her or if she was merely humoring him; a foolish, common, virgin mortal. He wondered vaguely what this might mean for his soul, if his first time he bedded a woman, that woman was an immortal trickster demon? He thought of her remark of siring her kits. Would such a mingling be possible? These worries didn't do anything to aid his current occupation, so he brushed them aside. Hetty seemed to note his flagging desire and rubbed her cheek against his, and licked his face.
“None of that, adventurer. Don't let your mind be burdened or wandersome. You are mine,” she purred into his ear, as if guessing his doubts, his worries. “You sought my den and you've made yourself quite at home. Let yourself not be distracted by mundane troubles.” She nipped down his throat, kissing and lapping his collarbone and under his chin as she rocked her hips in time with him. He may be an inexperienced mortal, but together they brought her nearly to her delight.
Her encouragements and assistance led him to redouble his efforts. He was full and hard again, and quite keen! Trevor grasped her around her hips, bent down and took the tip of her ear in his teeth. Hetty shrieked in the perfect blend of sharp pain sweet release! Trevor sucked on the small bite apologetically, but feeling quite bold and proud of himself to make such a dominating mark on her! Why hadn't she split him in two and spilled his innards throughout the cave? He slid back down her and kissed her rosy cheek, to trace that striking jaw. A predator's jaw, that devil's grin. She looked at him with hooded eyes in sublime smugness, in the full knowledge that she'd taught him a thing or two. Hetty sighed softly, flicking her tantalizing ears in content. Her arms, legs, and tail were all still wrapped firmly around him. For all of his theatrics, she would not let him believe that he was in charge of this encounter. She held him to her deep warmth until he finished inside her. She took all of him in with a wicked chuckle.
“There, you see?” Hetty asked sweetly, ruffling Trevor's hair as he nestled down among her breasts. “I did teach you some of my wily ways, did I not?”
“Mm-hmm,” Trevor mumbled hazily. That light, downy fur around her breasts was enticingly sweet-smelling, it was like falling asleep in a flowerbed.
“Mine,” she whispered.
They dozed together, just dreamily stroking each other wherever their hands happened to land. “You said that you've heard tales of me since you were a boy. That you'd long wished to see me. Tell me, are you satisfied?”
“Very.”
“And did you always wish to know me so well as you have tonight?”
Trevor wondered if she would be insulted, but chose to be honest. “No. When I was younger, I only wished to find you to cheer you, to ease your loneliness. To perhaps be a friend should you need one. Grandmother's stories of you always attracted me, but I remember thinking how awfully lonely you must be.”
Hetty smiled grimly, “You, a mortal, pitied me? Yes, I remember hearing you, feeling you. You cried out to me then. I visited your village when I thought it would amuse you, to see if you really believed or if I was merely a story. You know what happens to the Old Things when mortals no longer believe in them?”
Trevor struggled to lift his head from its soft resting place, found he couldn't, and pleasantly gave up. “Do...do you vanish?” He didn't want that! He hoped that he wasn't the only one in the village to believe in the Fox Demon, he hoped that she hadn't been stricken ill or in pain from the skeptics.
His ears were full of her dark chuckle. “Not a damn thing,” Hetty whispered, then broke into shrill laughter, tilting her head back in merriment, nearly releasing Trevor from her grasp.
“Oh. Good.”
“Good?”
“Well...I was just thinking...hoping...that the rest of the people in the village weren't hurting you or weakening you because they didn't believe. I didn't want to be the last one. Even my nieces and nephews think you're only a fireside story from Grandmother. I couldn't bear that.”
They doze off cozily together. When Trevor woke up, he found himself wrapped up in his blanket. He smelled something good. There was new fire crackling over which there was a rabbit spitted and roasting. Hetty crouched near it, placidly licking blood off of her fingers. She grinned over at him, as if she was genuinely happy to see him. She wiped her hands clean and tore off a rabbit leg, arranged it on a thin, flat stone with sliced bread, cheese, and apple.
Trevor sat up, wrapping his blanket around his waist as he couldn't find his breeches anywhere. He accepted the makeshift tray. “Thank you.”
While he ate, Hetty watched him, still having not said a word, but just smiling at him. When he ate all that he'd wanted, Trevor found himself feeling cozy and lazy again. Hetty growled low in her throat and crept up to him, swishing her tail in his face and sniffing him.
“Much better,” she remarked before kissing him. “Much better!” She writhed against him, purring.
“What's better?” Trevor asked.
“You smell better. After eating my food. It helped considerably.”
“Smell?? What's wrong with how I smelled?”
Hetty giggled, nuzzling and kissing his chest. “Nothing, nothing...you only tasted like turnips.”
Trevor let out a shriek of indignant laughter, “I taste like turnips?!”
“Well, not anymore. You taste much better already.”
Not even insulted, it was too ridiculous, Trevor kissed her back, feeling ready for another round. “Well, thank you. Is that because of your cooking? That was a good rabbit.”
“Mm-hmm,” Hetty replied shortly, ruffling his hair. “Go ahead, I know what you want.” She tossed her curls and took one of his hands, bringing it up through her hair to stroke her ear. Trevor smiled lazily as he touched and fiddled with it.
A thought dragged itself sluggishly through Trevor’s head as he pleasured his lady fox demon again. As he groaned and growled and writhed against her while she did the same. For just a second, he thought how curious it was, that the bread, cheese, and apple he’d brought, that she’d served him, were three days old now and ought to have gone spoiled and stale by now, yet this morning they were all sweet and fresh. And how good that rabbit was! He was a town boy, and had never been overly fond of wild meats, yet he’d picked it clean!
Then, Trevor found his attention brought back in full to the task at hand. How lucky he was to be here, with the one he’d always been fascinated by. He kissed her soundly, petting her ears, loving the strange, furry feel of her as she grew less human in her want. Hetty tittered and drew her hands down his body, taking his hands and guiding them where she wanted them. This young mortal was a quick study.
“Mmm, yes, my dear adventurer.”
“Trevor,” he corrected at last. “My name’s Trevor.”
“You gave me your name so freely last night,” she replied, as though that amused her. “So trusting with a trickster demon. I was giving you a sporting chance. Have you forgotten what I am?”
“No. I know what you are, and I love you for it. My crafty vixen.”
The boy’s continued innocence touched the demon’s heart. He’d walked right into her den, seeking her out to ease her loneliness. It was true, ever since her mate was taken from her, her days had been long and her nights longer. She had wished for a companion again. And that had been this eager young mortal’s goal the whole time! Since he was a mere pup! Hetty stroked his hair and thrust her enticing breasts to his face. Trevor struggled for only an instant but then stroked and squeezed them, his head buried in their softness, rubbing his face in them. Then, his hands crept down to settle around her waist, stroking down the length of her tail. Hetty moaned in pleasure, relaxing her grip on him with it and letting him tease it out.
No one had dared to pet her tail before! Not since her mate. Others had only fondled it greedily with their filthy hands, taunting her that they intended to make a trophy of it to brag of their kill. Those men had tasted dreadful, and she’d left their corpses for the ravens. They didn't mind foul meat.
This sweet, silly pup, though, stroked it lovingly, purring to her about silken waterfalls. She…liked that! This one…was different. He hadn’t come to hunt her, only to comfort her. Hetty had to admit that he’d already done that. She was glad that he’d come to stay with her. A fine companion he would make.
Again, they slept, he woke, she fed him of her hunt, she teased him into desire again. It slowly occurred to Trevor that he had lost track of how long he had been here. How many nights and days he'd been away from home? It all rather blurred together. The sparse food supplies he'd brought from home never seemed to deplete or spoil, giving the illusion that no time at all had passed. But he wasn't stupid. He knew he was dealing with the Fox Demon's magic, Hetty's magic. He had to do more than eat, make love, and sleep, though. Trevor shook his hazy head, now fully realizing how very much in Hetty's grip he was. He didn't feel sapped of energy, as if she'd been sucking his life from him. His reflection in the still, clear pool that they bathed in at the back of the cave had shown she hadn't aged him or changed him in any alarming way. But for days and days now, he'd simply been sleepy, hungry, or overcome by lust. He realized with a strange jolt that he couldn't remember having to relieve himself in all this time!
“Hetty, dear, my sweet Vixen. I've enjoyed my stay here, but I really must be heading home. My family will be worried, and I've been away for far too long,” Trevor murmured in her twitching ear.
Hetty chuckled, stroking his cheek. “I'd like to see you try.”
Trevor cleared his throat, steeling himself. “I do appreciate, most appreciate, your hospitality. You've been a good and generous host, but I must go home.”
“Without your breeches?” Hetty posed, a saucy tilt to her lip as she drew him back down into their nest.
He was bound and determined, though, poor adventurer as he was! Trevor stood abruptly, brushing himself off. He was covered in grass, flowers, and fox hair. “I'll make do.” With a touch of contrariness, he found his blanket, wrapped it around his waist, and secured it with his cloak's brooch. He stuffed his cloak into his satchel and strode toward the mouth of the cave. Hetty didn't make a move to stop him, just watching with satisfied amusement. He reached the entrance, felt the sun on his face and breathed the fresh air for the first time in who knew how long, took one more step over the threshold, and found himself walking straight back into the cave! It had been rather like trying to walk through a mirror! He stared at Hetty, then looked over his shoulder at the mouth of the cave which was now behind him instead of in front of him. She only smiled, stroking her belly. It was then that Trevor noticed she appeared pregnant! She was with child! With...? whatever they were...
“You forget, you're mine.” For the first time, there was a frightening edge to her voice. An inhuman hiss, that spoke of the Old Things, Dark things. Far too late, Trevor kicked himself for falling for her wiles. Still, he'd craved it! If he'd known when he set out on his quest that when he found the Fox Demon, she would keep him a happy prisoner forever, he would have bounded at the chance! His feelings were, if he were honest, largely unchanged, but that edge of a threat in her tone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Hetty saw that she'd frightened her poor pet. She softened her expression into a sympathetic pout. “Trevor, you sweet, dear thing. I couldn't let you go. You've become such a darling companion. You gave me your name and ate of my kill and now you belong to me. Tell me, have I been a harsh mistress? Have I been unkind?”
“No, ma'am,” Trevor shook his head.
“You said yourself that I have been a good and generous host, is that not so?”
Trevor nodded, “Yes, that's so.”
Then, Hetty gave him one of her trickster smiles, the kind that reminded him that she was capable of not being so kind, but she chose to be merciful to him anyway. “Then, you will have no objection to staying. If it's your family you're worried about, I shall send them a message to let them know you're...perfectly safe. And, if you tire of your repetitive mortal food accompanying my kills, simply say! You'll find there's nothing I can't create for you. I want my pet to be happy, after all. Now come, lie with me.”
Trevor found himself setting his satchel down and unwrapping his blanket from around his legs. He took his place, nestled in her lap, his head by her chest, and she stroked his hair. “Should you really be hunting in your condition?” he asked dreamily. He remembered his father objecting strongly to his mother performing certain tasks while she was with child.
“I'll be all right,” Hetty assured him, giving his ears tickling little scratches. After being treated to his for however long he'd been here, even Hetty wasn't sure anymore, she thought she'd repay the favor to see if he liked it as well as she did.
He mmm'ed, letting her take hold of him again, knowing it would be futile to resist. Hetty was right, though, this wasn't so bad. If he was to be held prisoner in a demon's nest, this was the one for him!