Work Text:
An original MtG-Ti short story based on art by Jay Naylor.
Somehow, someway, in all of your years of existing — of being a fully conscious being that could walk great distances on two legs, throw things with the kind of force and precision that guaranteed your whole species the top of the podium at the evolution Olympics, and boil water really, REALLY well — you’d never thought that anthros could be religious…
Well, visibly religious! Er… hold traditionally human religious affiliations…?
Maybe you’d never seen one walking down the street in religious garb before, or just never truly noticed it since it seemed like a pretty basic fact of life, but you’d never consciously thought about the possibility before, so seeing what looked to be— no, what HAD to be the most beautiful feline woman you’d ever laid your eyes on, even underneath the… layers and layers of fabric that emphasized her… modest, archaic, demure, sexless piety—!
"...It isn't right to allow a male to look upon my fur with lust like yours," an undeniably sexy feminine voice said all of a sudden, its tone just as commanding as the paw placed on your chest to stop you from crashing into her because of the fugue stalking state you’d slipped into as you admired her jaw-dropping form from behind.
She very clearly wasn’t very happy with you or your actions, but her tail peeking out the bottom of her black dress had hypnotized you even faster than the wiggle of her hips or that mouth-watering dumptruck ass that no amount of fabric could hide! As a red-blooded male, it was impossible not to notice either of the two even if she was bundled up compared to lots of other women or what you imagined your usual type to be!
There was no denying how drop-dead gorgeous you found her, and before you realized it, you’d crossed the street and four lanes of traffic to follow her until she physically stopped you, pointing a thumb towards the inside of a coffee shop you must have walked past a dozen or more times without even knowing it existed, let alone its name.
…Thank God it was, though!
Er, real, that is… That it existed and was there when you needed it most! Even if she was going to end up giving you a tongue lashing for objectively objectifying her, sipping a warm drink in her company and getting to stare into the most beautiful pair of angry, predatory eyes hiding behind her adorable glasses like a dangerous animal ‘hiding’ behind the flimsy glass bars of its cage so you’d come close enough for it to smash right through devour you in one bite—!
Getting to spend more time with her would make everything worth it one way or another.
. . . . .
The smell of coffee and spices filled your nose, and the foreign music and rhythm of a language or two you couldn’t so much as get a hand-hold on filled your ears, but they both melted into the background once your drink orders arrived and you saw her daintily pinch a few sugar cubes between two outstretched claws, depositing them in her cup and giving it a stir.
Every single part of her demanded your attention even though you could only see her eyes and ears poking out of her garb, and her paws when they weren’t hidden behind something else, and if you weren’t already going to some kind of hell for describing what she was wearing as ‘archaic’ not that long ago, you would have been very disrespectfully eyeing every square inch of exposed fur she had…
Not that there were very many! …So the dress was doing its job. Probably…?
Knowing she had your undivided attention once you continued stirring your spoon in your empty coffee cup after inhaling the extra-strength bean-juice, the woman of your dreams systematically — and very coolly and confidently at that! — gave you the kind of tongue lashing and dressing down that, when included with her lesson on Islam and cultural sensitivity, would have reduced a bigger and better man than you to fat, childish tears, but that flowed over and past your smooth, blood-deprived brain instead…
She was just too beautiful for words…
Breathing manually because you were liable to forget how to breathe altogether if you kept staring at her like a man dying of thirst stares at a far off oasis in the desert, every word she spoke and every deft movement you knew her tongue was making behind her veil as she formed each and every sharp syllable that made the thin fabric flutter in the angry breeze she was making led to you imagining kissing her and feeling that tongue against yours as you ran your hand up and down her fur—
Goddamn it! You’d clearly blown it — you knew that! — but if you could just nod at the right times and apologize with all the sincerity in your body, then surely—!
"There are... too many men in this world who view things like fur patterns as an... asset,” she began to explain in an entirely different tone from before, signaling that her admonishment was over and something brand new was taking its place. “An invitation of sorts,” she continued, wistfully, regretfully. “Just because my fur matches another’s, that I should show fealty to him instead of my God, which he does not share with me..."
Okay, okay, nod along, nod along…! That explained why she was wearing something so utterly cock-blocking in public!
…N-Not that there was anything wrong with that, or she existed for you to get uncontrollable boners for! You’d never lust over her just because her fur matched yours! Mostly because you didn’t have fur! She’d be beautiful no matter what colour or pattern or whatever her fur was! You were finding that out with every word that forcefully embedded itself in your brain!
Drooling intermittently from both ends didn’t exactly help drive the message about inclusivity home, but wanting to get to know her better sure as hell did! You were ignorant and naive in the most literal sense, but the urge to learn more about her and her culture intensified like mad, and if the opportunity to be taught one-on-one by your (hopefully!?) future-wife was being offered on a silver platter!? You’d damn well take it!
That turned out to be something she was receptive to, so you told her how badly you wanted to in the simplest way possible so you didn’t trip over any of your words. You weren’t a muslim, but you never intended to poo-poo someone else’s religion. Least of all to their face, or by stalking them on autopilot because you were interested in them, so you really were sorry about that! It was an accident, and entirely your fault! Spending time with her and being taught the error of your ways was a… magical experience, and if she was willing to—!
The wry smile you could feel spreading across her face — you couldn’t see it, but there was something in the air that made your hairs stand on end — seemed to mean she understood your actions didn’t come from a place of malice, but… there was more to it than that…
What was going on…?
The more you yapped and the more she taught you — correcting you by clearing up little things each time they came up, starting with the fact that she was wearing at that moment was called a ‘niqab,’ but sometimes wore a ‘hijab’ that showed the rest of her face minus her hair when she went out in public — the more blood returned to your big, wrinkling brain, and the more you drank up the information she was drip-feeding you, hanging on her every word.
The idea that she’d picked you up by inviting you to sit down and enjoy the Turkish coffee that particular shop was known for briefly crossed your mind at one point, but disappeared in the same breath and on the same wind that tamed your libido until you could fully appreciate what an amazing woman she truly was. There was no time to be horny when she was expanding your world view. You might have fallen in love with the way she looked and conducted herself, but you were staying in love because of the amazing woman she was proving to be!
Fur or no fur! Hijab or no— Wait… Niqab or no niqab! If that wasn’t love, then what—!?
"Yes, I... I too believe Allah has put you in my path,” she whispered conspiratorially enough that you felt you had to lean forward so no one else would catch so much as a single breath of what she said next. “That we met today — no matter the circumstances," she whispered with a good-natured chuckle and a rub of the back of your hand that was resting on the table, "—was simply meant to be. Either for me to teach you, for you to teach me, or... maybe for something else..."
Was that—!? ...Yes! Her tail was rubbing against your exposed ankle and your brain was starting to smooth over again~!
"In my home country, for a girl to show her ankles is considered socially unacceptable. Such an act is the mark of a flirtatious, salacious, wanton woman..."
Yes, yes! You'd heard about that! M-Maybe on the news, or at school, but you’d found some common ground, so w-why was she bringing that up n—!?
"...I am calling you a slut, Anon~❤"
Hoooooooooly fuuuuuuuuuuck, your DIIIIIIIIIICK~! The tip of her soft and fluffy tail was—! R-Right on your—!
"...It is a good thing we are not in my country anymore, or you would be stoned to death as a jezebel~! Though… it is also a bad thing we are not in my country anymore because, if we were, I would have the legal precedent to declare you my husband on the spot and carry you home with me…"
W-Was that—!? Was she—!? Was she gonna make you cum in your pants and walk home STAINED to experience the kind of shame that—!?
Her tinkling laughter and the way she pulled her tail away from your crotch almost made you FURIOUS that she hadn’t deigned to embarrass you in public by draining your pent-up balls on the spot, but the way she pulled at and lifted up the veil covering her mouth to open her drooling, humid maw and stick out her long, fluttering tongue was—!
Oh fuck, you could probably cum with or without her tail…
"...I shall have to abide by the laws of this land instead,” she concluded, once again smiling with her whole body, her djinn-like smile hidden behind her veil, “and simply invite you to my home so we can... discuss certain things while engaging in a... DEEP cultural exchange~❤"
Y-Yeah, okay… You’d gone from the hunter to the hunted, and the ass you’d stalked for what could’ve been blocks might’ve been a clear and obvious trap to anyone with a clearer head than you in retrospect, but if she could cut you to pieces with her words, call you a s-slut, and still make you want to go home with her afterwards—!
WOOOOOOO!
So long as she didn’t try to force you to convert to muslim, then—! …Okay, maybe you were more flexible about the conversion thing than you first thought, but so long as you got to exchange fluids first—! …CULTURES! ...You were just following her to her den so you could exchange cultures with her all night, every night, for the rest of your infidel life!
Goddamn were you going to hell…