Catfeetz
By Lord Nocato
Standing absent-mindedly by a fence post down the path to the inn, Catfeetz, a greedy and selfish goblin Death Knight, awaited his date. He'd been keeping in touch with her for a while now, via letters and an occasional visit when he wasn't busy doing favors for Thrallmar up in Outland. They had finally enough time for an actual get together as he decided to take a week long break from working starting today. Glancing up at the sound of hoofsteps in the near distance, he saw her; the slightly chubby and fluffy light brown and white Tauren girl known as Cochoora, gussied up in a cloth summer dress and accessorized with flowers she picked on the way. He grinned his usual half-mouth smile as she approached, looking ditzy and innocent as ever. That's the way he liked his women: with a bit of meat on them (it improved the chest size in most cases) and naïve as a child. He especially took a fancy to the Tauren women, and mostly the gentle Druids, as Cochoora was. Due to this taste, he would never date a Goblin girl. 'They're too smart for me,' he always said, 'they'd see right through me, or worse, con me right outta my cash whiles I tried the same on them!'
Cochoora was his best catch yet. She was the sweetest and kindest girl in Thunder Bluff, often giving to charity, helping the orphanage in Orgrimmar, or picking herbs and mining ore and gems to send to her friends free of charge; and best of all, she had a wonderful pair of breasts. Catfeetz raised an over-sized hand at her in a half-hearted wave, but before gravity could let it hang loose at his side once more, Cochoora had grabbed his wrist and was eagerly pulling him to the inn.
"Yow, getting' right to the point, are we?" Catfeetz snickered. Cochoora blushed.
"N-no…! That's not it. It's that," she said, pointing to his dirty, dented plate armor and the glowing runed sword at his hip, all of which he was still wearing due to having just arrived back at Azeroth moments ago. "I'm not going into the restaurant with you dressed as if you'd cut off the waiter's head!" Catfeetz smirked. "Well, you probably would no matter how you're dressed," she added with a hint of fright in her voice, "but you get my point."
"Alright, alright, I gotcha," he groaned with a joking dissatisfaction, dragging his feet into the lobby of the inn, where his hobgoblin buddy sat with a huge sack, looking stupid. He pulled a privacy curtain around him and pulled off the heavy armor, stuffing it into the hobgoblin's bag, while pulling out some cloth garments to wear. After slipping into the black trousers and white button-down shirt, he tied a taper-ended red ribbon around his collar in a loose tie and presented himself to the hobgoblin. "How do I look?" he asked, giving a sly grin. The hobgoblin stared, mouth half open, trying to remember how to speak. "Nevermind," Catfeetz groaned, rolling his eyes at the brute and pulling open the curtain.
Cochoora giggled at the sight of him. "Oh, Catfeetz, you look so dapper," she said, blushing.
"Gotta look good for my gal," he said with a wink and another one of his usual grins.
On the way to the restaurant, they held hands. Some passing by Horde Defenders chuckled at the sight of Catfeetz's hurried shuffle and Cochoora's small, two-thirds shortened steps used to try to let him keep up with her long stride. She didn't mind what those mean Orcs thought though, she was happy. Catfeetz was no gentleman, but he was interesting, and seemed to genuinely like her, despite her essentially being a bipedal cow.
A few minutes later they arrived at the restaurant. After being seated and ordering their meals was the awkward silence. Catfeetz was terrible at small talk and he knew it—if he tried he'd likely slip up and offend his date, so he kept his mouth shut. Cochoora sipped her melon juice and observed the environment of the restaurant. It was dimly lit, a candle flickering to the side of them being the only light by which it was even feasible to read their menus. She thought it had a romantic feel to it, though in the darkness Catfeetz's glowing white eyes sent a chill down her spine. Her friends called her crazy for dating a Death Knight. It had been a while since they had left the service of the Lich King, but there were yet few who dared truly trust one. The story of how the Lich King had betrayed his followers, sending them in to a definite demise disgusted her, and she felt passionately sorry for them. Catfeetz, though a dead goblin reborn, and inherently "cruel", much akin to the Forsaken, seemed so deep and complicated to her. And it was obvious he was making a legitimate effort to fit back into societal norms (of Goblins, at least). He was always building his reputation with the Horde, trying to be accepted. Cochoora stared at those glowing white orbs, as if in a trance, deep in thought. She wanted to know more about him.
Catfeetz cleared his throat, suddenly feeling awkward at her gaze. Cochoora blinked as she snapped out of her trance and apologized for staring. Their meals arrived, and the awkward part of the date was over, or so Catfeetz thought.
"Why is your name 'Catfeetz'?" asked Cochoora curiously, a couple minutes into her vegetarian pasta. She figured that the easiest way to begin to get to know him better would be to start with something more superficial, and possibly less embarrassing to talk about. After all, anyone who heard his name responded in some humored or confused way—it seemed like something that was bound to come up no matter what.
Twiddling with his fork and staring down at his plate, Catfeetz seemed to phase out of his mind for a moment before answering. "It was my nickname b'fore I died. My friends called me Catfeetz. Then when I came back, it was the only name I could remember, so… that's how it was." He twiddled with his fork again before stabbing it into a chunk of meat. Cochoora looked dissatisfied with the answer.
"Why did your friends call you that?" she asked, prying. Agitated, Catfeetz wiggled his fork in her direction.
"It was nothin'. Stupid. Just fuhgettaboudit," he said, making it clear his isn't the sort of thing he wanted to talk about. But Cochoora was determined to find the answer. She searched her thoughts. '"Catfeetz" is a kind of weird nickname,' she thought. So maybe it had to do with his feet? After all, from the times he visited, she recalls he would always take off his boots, and he would sit with his feet on the table. When they talked he would sometimes fiddle with his toes, or squeeze the soles. 'That has to be it,' she decided, 'but what's with the "cat" part?' There was nothing catlike about his oversized green feet at all. Cochoora continued eating, devising a way to figure it out. She decided she'd have to use her feminine wiles… buy a night at the inn and…
After finishing his food, Catfeetz did just what Cochoora thought he would—tilting his chair backwards, he placed his feet, poorly tied, worn, brown dress shoes and all, on the side of the table, legs crossed. He tilted the chair back and forth as he relaxed, with one arm behind his head and the other at work with a toothpick; and from the slight bending of the tips of his shoes, she could tell he was wiggling his toes too. As Cochoora finished her food, the waitress came by with the check. Catfeetz eyed it disdainfully. He hated parting with his money—it was the goblin way. He pulled in air for a sigh and began to un-tilt to find his coinbag when Cochoora offered to pay, with a smile. She knew as well as anyone that Goblins were generally the stingy sort.
"After all, you're saving for flight lessons still, right?" Cochoora said, recounting what he had reported to her in a letter from Outland.
"That's right," he said, surprised. Even he knew it was generally accepted, even in the Horde, that the man should offer to pay the bill. "Awful nice of ya."
"No problem," she giggled, opening up the small leather coinpurse she used for her money. It never really filled up again after she lent a hefty sum to a friend of hers, who wanted to train in a second battle specialization back before the price dropped astoundingly low. In fact, she realized with a slight frown, she would only have a few silver and copper pieces left after. She shrugged it off—the goblin would certainly be offended if she asked him to go Dutch now. So she dropped what gold she had left on the tray holding the bit of parchment that was the check, along with some silver as a tip, and began to get up. She was disheartened—without money, her trick to get the answer to her question would have to wait.
Catfeetz hopped out of the chair, which, though tipped so far that it should have fallen, miraculously tumbled back onto its legs with a soft clatter. As they walked out of the restaurant, idly responding to the "have a nice evening" spouted at them from various employees, Cochoora clutched her coinpurse in her hand, feeling the few coins clatter against each other in a depressingly quiet way. Catfeetz, reaching his low-hanging hand up for her other one, caught sight of the squeeze, and heard the very few coins left inside. A pang of guilt struck his chest as he thought about it. She had no crafting skills, and never sold what she gathered, opting to give it to crafting friends instead. She rarely worked because she was easily felled on her own in the world, so she didn't get even the meager income that many others live off of. Worst of all, she seemed sad about it, as if there had been something else she had wished to purchase. As they approached the inn where they began, where they would normally part ways, he realized with an embarrassing excitement part of what she had intended, as she eyed the inn with a pout. Her steps to the other side of the dirt path were stopped short when her arm tugged her in the opposite direction, towards the inn.
"Wh-what are we doing?" asked Cochoora, startled.
"I think I'll stay at the inn tonight, hun," Catfeetz said mischievously. "Don't leave me yet." He looked up at her with an attempted lonesome puppy-dog face, though his true intentions were glaringly obvious—much to Cochoora's pleasure.
"Oh, sure," she said, smiling excitedly. Maybe she'd get her answer tonight after all.
Catfeetz checked into the inn for one night and one day, paying upfront with his own money. The innkeeper gave him the key to an upstairs room, and the couple made their way to the staircase, passing by the hobgoblin, who had dozed off leaning against the wall in the lobby, without a second thought. When they made it to the room, Cochoora entered first. The second the lock clicked on the door she reached down and picked up Catfeetz in a forceful embrace. He made a startled noise but did not seem displeased, and she fell backwards onto the bed with him in her arms. She looked into his eyes with a fiery passion that could easily pass as lust—though in reality what burned inside of her was curiosity of the highest sort.
Lying on her torso, Catfeetz was pleased to feel Cochoora's chest pressed into his own with a delightfully squishy texture. He was overwhelmed by the suddenness, and even more so her willingness, and seeing that, Cochoora made the first move, pulling his face to her own in a hearty kiss, her head tilted to the side so Catfeetz's long pointy goblin nose had room to be. She noticed his hands exploring her chest, so she released the kiss, and with an innocent giggle, removed her dress, revealing her thin brown leather undergarments—panties with a low back so her tail could rest comfortably over the top, and a simple bra with thick straps that was absolutely overflowing with her fluffy milk jugs. Catfeetz, now sitting between her long legs on the bed, turned an odd shade of brown as his olive green face blushed over. Her chest was the largest he had seen to date, DDD's for sure. He licked his lips in anticipation. Cochoora leaned forward, her chest pressing into his face, and began to unbutton his shirt, and when that was done, his shoes and pants. Now they sat, facing each other in their undies, both flushed over in the heat of the moment, and Cochoora decided to make her move.
Much to Catfeetz's confusion (and sexual frustration) he found himself being held up by his feet, nothing but his upper back, arms and head remaining on the bed. Cochoora had grabbed either one of his ankles with her respective hands and was looking closely at the soles of his feet. "Y-ya crazy broad, whaddya think you're doing?" he grumbled, feebly squirming to show his displeasure with the situation.
"What's so cat about your feets?" she asked, squinting at them.
"Nothing!" Catfeetz whined, squirming harder. "Fuhgettaboudit, woman, and let me go!"
She observed them from every angle. "They don't look like cats." She sniffed them. "They don't really smell like cats." She loosened her grip on his ankles to press her thumbs into the middle of the soles of his feet. At the contact, Catfeetz made a slight squeal, stifled quickly by his own hands, which he clamped firmly over his mouth. Cochoora looked at him. His eyes were shut tight, brows furrowed, shaking his head ever so slightly, which increased in noticeability when she began to move her thumbs, still applying pressure around the bottom of his feet. She grinned. "It does have to do with your feet after all, doesn't it?" The only response from Catfeetz was desperate head shaking. She decided to investigate further. She began to rub his feet, massage-like, which garnered muffled groaning and more head shaking—though slower, as he seemed to enjoy it despite his complaining. 'But there's nothing worthy of a strange nickname in enjoying foot massages,' she thought. So she moved on to theory number two.
She loosened the pressure on his feet, and noticed Catfeetz relax slightly, though still holding his hands over his mouth, and still keeping his eyes shut, looking—though Cochoora never thought it possible for a Death Knight—afraid. She released one foot, which quickly retracted, curled up against Catfeet's torso. She gently placed her fingertips on the bottom of his foot. At the gentle contact, this time, Catfeetz's body flinched, his eyes shooting open as he stared up at Cochoora with a desperate pleading look. She smiled at him, and ran her finger gently down the length of his foot. He muffled some noise, cringing and squirming, suddenly intent on getting absolutely away from her. This only piqued her curiosity further—he was definitely hiding something now. Grasping his ankle firmly, she began to tickle his restrained foot, and got her answer.
"Mee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-owww!" laughed Catfeetz unwillingly, his hands released from his mouth and now trying to push and pry away Cochoora, his whole body squirming and turning and wriggling, kicking, anything to get away. Cochoora, pleased only once he began to tear up and beg her to stop between bouts of meow-like laughter, his cheeks sore and lungs tired from it. She released him and he crawled away desperately, to the foot of the bed where he proceeded to attempt to burrow into the comforter to hide his shame. Cochoora looked absolutely ecstatic.
"That's it, right?" she asked excitedly. "Your laugh when your feet are tickled sounds like you're saying "meow", like a cat, right?" He grumbled, now only a mound in a blanket. Her smile faded as she realized that she may have hurt his feelings by forcing him to reveal what he didn't want to. 'What shame is there in sensitive feet and a cute laugh, though?' she thought, frowning, before crawling over to him. She lifted the blanket off of Catfeetz to find him sitting, huddled up with his face in his knees, pouting, blushing, and looking otherwise mortified. She smiled at him hopefully. "Catfeetz…" she said gently. "I'm sorry… I let curiosity guide my actions. But please, there's nothing to be ashamed of. I think it's adorable." He turned his head ever so slightly toward her, still pouting, looking rather displeased. She frowned. "Can I make it up to you?" she asked, reaching behind her back to undo her bra. Catfeetz perked up immediately, watching wide-eyed as the thin brown leather fell between them, releasing the objects of his undying adoration, his usual side-grin creeping back onto his face.
"Now that's what I'm talkin' about," he said, all grudges forgotten as she pulled him down with her once more, into a warm, promising embrace. Needless to say, Catfeetz was given more interesting things to remember about that night.
Downstairs, the hobgoblin awoke with a start to see the outdoors was dark. Looking around for his companion, Catfeetz, and seeing none of him, the portable banker shrugged, leaning back against the wall and dozing again.