give_satisfaction | Let The Kinkiness Begin!

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Let The Kinkiness Begin!

And we're off! Don't hold back! It's anonymous so let your freak flag fly! Not confident about your creative skills? Practice here! The fills can be anything you want. Fics, videos, artwork and anything else that strikes your fancy. Prompts do not have to be Bertie and Jeeves only! All of the other characters are fair game (Honoria and Madeline tentacle sex, anybody?). As are characters from other books and stories. This meme might be slow to start, so please spread the word!

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Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Major Character Death
Rape/Non-Con
Suicide
Attempted Suicide
Incest

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I'm actually 90% done with a story that's pretty similar/along these lines of these themes - will post ASAP!

OP here and that's so cool :D I can't wait to read it!

Waves pom-poms

prompt: ununiformed!Jeeves
One thing never fails to make Bertie nervous. It's seeing his valet in normal clothes when he's not working. Jeeves eventually finds out.

Prompt: A fight over a piece of clothing leads to some rough wrestling that gets both of them aroused.

Yummy!

Bertie's POV: Inverted but inexperienced Bertie secretly takes a drawing course only to get to look at the nude, male model the course offers as grand finale. Jeeves recently decided to secretly earn a bit extra by posing as model. The grand finale is a shocker for both of them. 😜

brontophilia 🌧🌩🌧

I looked it up, gang. Sexual arousal via thunderstorm. A big YES from this quarter!

I like that!

I was reading the letter so intently that Jeeves had to gently clear his throat thrice before I noticed and looked up at him. “Would you like a nightcap before bed, sir?”

“Oh, yes, thank you,” I muttered—or something like that, I was too distracted to take down a perfect transcription. Curled in my comfiest chair, I returned to the letter and continued reading. Knowing that I was too absorbed to notice his return, he tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention when he came back with the drink.

“Pleasant correspondence from Mrs. Scholfield, sir?”

Until that moment, I hadn’t realized that a small smile had crept onto my face as I read. “Oh, you know, just the usual. No news in particular, I’m just happy to hear from her.”

“Sir, pardon my intrusion, but if I may ask, why has your sister never visited London?”

“My sister? Barb? Well, she, er…she doesn’t like it,” I said shortly.

Jeeves quirked an eyebrow at me. I sighed.

“If you must know, she has…disagreements with the larger Wooster family. There was a rift of sorts and, well, I don’t think there’s much hope of patching it up at this point.”

“That is most saddening to hear, sir.”

I shook my head ruefully. “Saddening is the right word, old fruit.”

“You maintain fairly regular correspondence with her, sir, do you not?”

“Fairly, yes, not as much as I’d like. She doesn’t reach out often. I think talking to me reminds her too much of what she’s missing.”

“Forgive my continued impertinence, sir, but it seems as though you are the only family member with whom she maintains contact. Why are you neutral in this family rift?”

I fidgeted in discomfort. “I don’t... This is ancient family history that I’d rather not get into, if you don’t mind, Jeeves.”

“Of course, sir, I apologize for my behavior.”

“No need. I know you only ask because you care.”

“Indeed, sir.” His tone was as measured as ever, but I caught a rummy look in his eye that betrayed some kind of significance, some sincerity. He really did care.

I felt myself coming around. Jeeves stayed in place, sensing that I was about to open up. “The truth is, you see…well…it’s a bit hard to explain. Although, it’s not complicated. It’s simple, but it’s not easy, if you follow me. Of course you don’t follow me, I haven’t explained anything yet. You see… Barbara hasn’t always been my sister.”

Jeeves tilted his head just slightly. “How so, sir?”

“That is to say, growing up, he was my brother, and at age 18, she followed her heart and became my sister.”

Jeeves—steady, poised, serene Jeeves—actually took a step back at my words. Shock flitted across his face. There was something else in there, something I couldn’t read. I assumed it must be deep horror or disgust.

This reaction was much worse than I had expected. I immediately regretted bringing up such a sensitive topic. “I say, Jeeves, I understand that what I’m implying is distasteful, even abhorrent, to most sensibilities. I can’t really blame you for being affronted. But this is my flesh and blood we’re talking about here. My sister. My only sibling. I would appreciate it if you tried to maintain your composure at least in front of me.”

Jeeves visibly steadied himself. “Please, sir, do not misinterpret my reaction. I am not offended, I am merely surprised. That…it…this…thing you speak of, it’s a rare occurrence.”

“Far from unprecedented, though. There have been well-documented reports of people changing genders throughout history and across cultures,” I explained eagerly. “Did you know that some ancient civilizations even recognized a third gender? The Greeks had galli priests. The Navajo have nádleehi. In India, where Barb lives now, Hijras are actually considered—”

I broke off abruptly. I was suddenly terribly embarrassed by my outburst. The increasingly stunned look on Jeeves’s face stopped me in my tracks. He actually seemed fearful; my guilt rose.

“I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about all this. It’s just some research I did back when Barbara…became my sister, in order to understand better what was going on. I still don’t fully understand, but no one else in our family even tried.” I looked down, my eyes suddenly prickling. “They just…pretended as though she had never existed. Eighteen years of memories, affection, love—all gone, just like that.” I sighed. “I couldn’t do that.”

I looked up at Jeeves once more. To my surprise, he seemed every bit as overwhelmed as I felt. His eyes shimmered and his mouth was set in a tense line.

“Are you okay, Jeeves?” I asked cautiously.

He heaved a shuddering breath in response. “Sir, I…” His voice broke and he shut his mouth again. He shook his head silently and held up a finger, then turned and marched away from me. Bewildered, I heard him turn the corner and disappear into his room. He rummaged about for a minute and then re-emerged. An old photograph was clutched tight in his trembling hand. He steeled himself, as though he were preparing to subject himself to some kind of extreme pain, and then thrust it out to me wordlessly.

I examined the photograph. Two solemn dark-haired children gazed obediently into the camera. One, about 13 or 14 years of age, I recognized immediately as Jeeves, and the other about 10, looking almost identical besides being smaller and female. The pair were too similar in appearance to be anything but siblings. I flipped the photo over and read the handwritten scrawl on the back: Reggie & Sammy, summer 1898. I never knew Jeeves had a sister. Then again, why should I? There was plenty I didn’t know about the man.

But why was he showing me this now? As I scanned the writing, a lightbulb went off in my brain. The coincidence struck me. “Jeeves…are you saying…you’re in the same boat as me? Your sister, this little Sammy, grew up to be…different, like Barb?”

I was alarmed to see that Jeeves’s entire body was now shaking rather badly. He wasn’t crying; he looked somehow beyond tears. I had never seen him express a fraction of this level of emotion before and I felt as though I were standing before a stranger, an entirely unknown man.

He pointed to the older boy. “That’s Sammy,” he finally managed to croak. He took a deep breath and pointed to the younger girl. “And that’s me.”

_____

The story came out haltingly. Jeeves could barely speak, and he never stopped trembling. I had to steer him to the couch and sit him down for fear that he might faint.

In steering him, I had seized his shoulders. He flinched a little when I touched him, and in that moment I began to truly realize the implications of what he had just told me. His shoulders felt like any man’s shoulders beneath my hands. But suddenly, with just a small shift in my mindset, a tiny alteration of perspective, I could imagine them as a woman’s shoulders. Jeeves has a medium sort of build, slight but at the same time solid. Although I’m taller than most men, he has an inch on me. In the past I have vaguely noticed how delicate his wrists are. All at once, I found my attention locked onto him in the strangest, most intrusive way, looking for signs of his femaleness: his neck, his feet, his hips…

I tore my attention away, feeling guiltier than ever. I thought about people looking at Barbara this way, scanning her body for signs of masculinity, illegitimacy, for “proof” that she isn’t who she “says” she is. Reducing her down to a collection of body parts rather than a whole human being. I remember I had done the same to her when she first told us who she was. It had taken me a long time to get past that. The rest of our family, our friends, our entire community, never could. That was why she had moved far away, eventually finding a husband with whom she adopted three children: she had to move that far away, relinquishing her past life entirely, to escape this kind of policing, this test she was set up to fail.

Nor did the significance of Jeeves’s flinch elude me. I was horrified to think he might be afraid of me, of my reaction, that some part of him believed I might hurt him. Yet, I could not blame him for being scared. He had, as I would learn later that night, spent decades living in fear of anyone discovering his secret—worst of all, someone to whom he was close. Upon reflection, I couldn’t say I was even entirely sure what exactly he had just told me, but it was obviously momentous. I resolved immediately to do whatever I could to try to assuage his fear—to prove to him that he had, perhaps not my full understanding, but certainly my complete acceptance.

Eventually, Jeeves told me his story. He had run away from home at age 14, started dressing as a boy, and started going by Reginald rather than Regina. He explained that he took on a male identity in order to stay safer on the streets and to gain employment and opportunities that a girl could never have accessed. He had been an exceptionally bold and assertive child, and luckily, he was taller and stronger than most other girls. Nature had happened to gift him with a deep voice and a prominent jaw that frequently got him mistaken for a male even before he switched to living as one. He told me, with bitter humor, that the teasing about his appearance and questioning of his gender had actually reduced, not increased, after becoming Reginald.

He confirmed that he had never told anyone else before, not one person in the last two decades. He said my emotional appeal concerning Barbara made him decide spontaneously, finally, to tell me.

“I still cannot believe I’ve done this, to be honest with you, sir. I don’t know what madness came over me. To think of the lines of propriety I’ve crossed…! I fully expect to regret this come the morning, sir.”

I took a steadying inhale, knowing how important it was to get this right. “I want to be entirely honest with you, just like you’ve been with me, which I appreciate more than I can say at the mo’. If you regret telling me, I understand and that is of course your right. But, at least from my point of view, you have no reason to regret it, as far as I’m concerned. Your secret is safe with me, in all senses of the word. Safe in that I won’t tell a soul, and safe in that you can trust me to see you just as I did before.”

This time, the tears fell, propriety be damned.
___

As it turned out, this promise I had made to Jeeves, though well-intentioned, was easier pledged than done. In the forthcoming days, my head was constantly swimming with all that I had heard. To think—my manservant wasn’t a man. My gentleman’s personal gentleman wasn’t a gentleman. What was I supposed to do with that information?

I cursed myself for thinking this way, although I found I could hardly help it. Even if it was only in my own head, I felt as though I were betraying him when I thought about him like this. After knowing this man for seven years, suddenly words like “she” and “her” were occasionally drifting through my thoughts. Involuntarily, I thought of all the times he’d attended me in the bath, and I squirmed with embarrassment.

But why on earth should I be embarrassed now? Nothing had changed. This was exactly the same old Jeeves I had known all along.

But something had changed: me. Now I was questioning things about Jeeves I had never questioned before, things that made me blush to even contemplate. There was the question of the bath, of assisting me with dressing and undressing. There was the question of us living in the same apartment, sleeping just down the hall from each other. When we visited country homes, he bunked with the male servants. It had all seemed so normal, and now it all seemed so intimate and improper.

I knew Jeeves had had “understandings” with a few different women; clearly none of them had known his secret. Were those engagements just a façade to provide evidence to his maleness? Or, was he actually attracted to women? If so, did that make him an invert? How can a man who has a pash for women be an invert? Was he a man?

Of course she was.

Of course he wasn’t.

I began to think about other men in the street, to look at them differently. I wondered what they might be hiding.

I wondered about myself.

And, Lord help me, against my own will and my better impulses, I began to wonder about Jeeves. In seven years I had given nary a thought to what lay beneath his clothing, but now the topic started to consume my waking hours—and, if I’m being fully transparent, my sleeping hours. My thoughts lingered on the planes of his body, noting presences and absences, the flat and the convex. My dreams conjured the details, the smooth that I would have assumed to be rough, had I assumed anything at all. My mind kept reevaluating that which I had never really considered, rewriting the story I had never written. This new habit of mine made me sick, and it made me stirred.

I mulled over this idea, that I might be stirred by Jeeves. I had only ever felt this way about women before, and very few of them, at that. What did it mean for me if I had new feelings for him? What did it mean if, for God’s sake, I loved him?

I knew I had to talk to him about this, but I couldn’t fathom how I would begin. In the meantime, he undoubtedly noticed my distraction, my confusion, my hesitancy when we were close, but he didn’t say anything, either. Perhaps he thought it was my place to bring it up, after all he had confessed to me.

No, it wasn’t a “confession” exactly. Confessions are for sins, crimes, misdeeds. Jeeves’s secret isn’t something that needs to be confessed—if it’s going to be shared, it ought to be declared, proclaimed. He should be proud of what he managed to do to succeed, of what he had to do to survive, and of who he became in the process.

One night, I plucked up the courage to tell him all this; by the time I finished, he was in my arms.

The moment our lips met, I knew we had crossed a line that we could never un-cross. I felt the strength in his arms and back as he crushed me to him, and for a second I felt manhandled, dominated, wholly off-kilter. But then I felt the smoothness of his cheek, which I had always attributed to fastidious attention to shaving, if I had thought about it at all, and we evened out, holding tight to each other. One moment I was kissing a man. The next I was kissing a woman. Here I am kissing my valet. There I am kissing my darling. I felt as though I were embracing two different people at once, but it was just Jeeves, just like it always was, just like it always would be. We fumbled and stumbled, and soon enough tumbled right into my bed.

If he’s a man, there’s a man in my bed, which is wrong.

If she’s a woman, I’m impinging upon a lady’s virtue, which is wrong.

But as long as this is Jeeves, then this must be right.

I pinned him beneath me on the bed. Our legs entangled, bodies pressed together. Two pairs of trousers, two starched collars. Two tightly tied ties were swiftly untied. I panted into his open mouth. My chest felt constricted. I felt lightheaded. I felt so aroused that I couldn’t imagine how we’d ever stop.

I needed a moment to breathe, to think. I sat up and gazed into his eyes, searching for what was inside. Jeeves stared back at me.

“Are you trying to figure out who I am, sir?”

I nodded, feeling weak.

“I’ll show you,” he said.

I helped him take off his jacket, his trousers, his shirt. He looked slender in his underwear and two or three layers of tight undershirts that I never would have guessed were there.

“Don’t you get hot in the summer?”

“Yes, sir.”

I kissed him, partly to swallow up that “sir,” which was beginning to disturb me in this context, and partly because I was afraid of those undershirts coming off. I tried to comb my fingers into the glossy hair atop his head, but I was stopped by his sticky pomade. I tried to run my hands up and down his body, but I didn’t want to feel the texture of the cotton, I wanted to feel his skin.

I felt nearly too overwhelmed with anxiety to continue. But then I kissed his neck and inhaled his sweet scent, so distinctive: that gave me all the reassurance I needed. I helped him peel off his tight shirts and then he was bare beneath me. I saw the parts of him that were kept bound so tight, the lines of his clothing never even hinted at them. They looked so natural and right on his long, slim frame. He looked terrified and vulnerable, defiant and beautiful. The magnitude of what we were doing hit me; I didn’t feel worthy of this. I felt that it should surely be handled by someone much more intelligent than myself, someone with much more experience in these matters. Or any experience at all.

Tentatively I reached out and stroked his chest. Capable, masterful, imperturbable Jeeves looked like he was on the verge of shattering just from one light touch. I gripped and groped and he moaned, a sound of surrender and unbelief. Following some primal directives within me, I lowered my head and sucked on his nipples, pulling ecstatic exclamations from him. I kissed a trail down his sternum, his abdomen, his belly, and came to the silk waistband of his underwear. I hesitated for only a moment before pulling it down and pressing my lips to the dark, thick hair underneath. If I had any last doubts that this man was different from other men, now I knew for sure. And if I had any questions about whether this experience was something I wanted to pursue, those questions were answered, too. I licked at him, moving downwards, gently exploring, following the sound of his cries as they rose. I focused my attention on whatever spot made him loudest, made him twitch and arch high off the bed. The wetter he became, the more delicious he was. I drank him down like nectar. My universe narrowed down to this one small place for an immeasurable time and I lost myself in the rhythms of my actions, his reactions. I only came back to reality once he tugged me up to lay face-to-face once more. His map was tear-streaked and dreamy.

He kissed me hard and then used those strong arms to roll me onto my back. I had a fair bit of the teary and dreamy going on, myself. Even though he has undressed me thousands of times, this one felt like the very first. He climbed on top of me and hovered above, straddling my hips, a miraculous sight in itself. He grasped my eager readiness. On some level I still couldn’t really believe that he doesn’t have one of his own. For a few clumsy moments, we tried patiently to fit together the pieces of this new puzzle. When the pieces finally moved into place, we both gasped. I groaned his name and it was another long, hypnotic while before I stopped. Reggie. Reggie. Reggie.

____

When we properly discussed it, he said that, at the end of the day, he still thought of himself as truly a woman. I said he didn’t need to pick one or the other, and added that I would love him no matter what. But she said that she was sure.

For a while, we talked about what could be different now, what possibilities would open to us. She could grow her hair out and get a whole new wardrobe. We could actually be normal, common, boring. With my money and her homemaking skills, we could be perfectly intelligible to society, as long as no one knew about our past. We could get married and our union would be recognized or at least understood in every corner of the earth. We could dance in any music hall in Europe and no one would call us abominations. They’d call us Mr. and Mrs., Sir and Madam, gentleman and lady. I started getting quite excited about all the opportunities that would suddenly be available to us.

But the morning after that talk, she rolled over in bed to face me. Very hesitantly, she said she had thought a little more about living as female for the first time in decades, as an adult woman for the first time in her life. She worried about giving up her friends, my family, our routine, our status quo. On top of all that, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be seen that way. She realized that perhaps the decision she had made all those years ago was not chosen out of mere practical considerations, but rather spoke to a deeper internal drive. She said it was all too much to contemplate at once. She apologized, saying she was sorry for changing her mind, sorry for dashing my dreams of normalcy, sorry for choosing the more difficult path.

I kissed him and told him not to worry about trying to decide. Certainly not right now, and certainly not for my sake. I spoke clearly to be sure he heard me: “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

Author's note: I'd recommend reading the short story "Bertie Changes His Mind," if you haven't already, for a little background/context. https://www.madameulalie.org/strand/Bertie_Changes_His_Mind.html

Rating: Teen (just to be sure)
Tags: Fairy tale fare, animal transformation, Damsel in Distress!Bertie, Knight!Jeeves, Adventure, Quest
Words: circa 3,751

A/N: Here lies unveiled Part 3 of our Fairy-tale Adventure! Love confessions, a Maiden Marvellous and Fair and Bertie coming clean. I say, what a crowded part! Grab a drink and settle down for after this, we draw near to the final instalment!

Just to note that this is a mythical Britain, blending a bit of history with a fairy tale mythical Britain.

Part Four will be up either tomorrow or the next day depending on formatting issues (yay! And nay!). Also, Feline Frolics will be uploaded to A03 so you can read either on dreamwidth or over there. =^_^=

☆☆☆

Feline Frolics Part 3 – Maiden Marvellous

We soon left the valleys behind us and descended down onto a flat plain of land. Well, sort of flat. The earth did dip and roll most pleasantly, forming a smashing series of fair fields. Unfortunately, so far said F.F. lacked any fair maidens with a convenient bag of spells and what-nots.

Jeeves however remained upbeat and would most kindly point out interesting landmarks and explain simply yet seriously their significance. I say, I wish my teachers had been half as splendid as my Knight of Kindly Knots. Though, admittedly, it was his dashed voice that had me more spellbound than my ghastly Aunt Agatha’s sorcery.

His noggin was a fine one and when we paused three days out from our meeting with Sir Meirion, our spiffing Scarlet Serpent, I elected to try my paws at fishing. Partly to fuel that magnificent brain of his and partly to sneak my way into his good graces.

A girl I know – a soppy lady by the name of Madeline Bassett, who has a dreadful tendency to threaten marriage whenever she is on shaky grounds with her fellow of choice, Gussie, (and what a fright that gives me, for my honour will not allow me to escape easily!) – always muttered that food was the way to a man’s heart.

I do relish a good supper so perhaps my Jeeves will also fancy a meal caught by this feline. Admittedly, Sir K, it not quite “my Jeeves” yet, but what else is a besotted F. to do?

Naturally you are thinking, but what about the Rabbit Incident? And yes, it is deserving of a capital “R” and “I”. Never fear though! I have been practising while my erstwhile defender has been sleeping. Goes against the Bertie grain – as well as the feline one – to miss sleep, but I do wish to show my hard working Knight that this is one Prince who will not rest on his laurels and is worthy of such a splendid specimen of manhood.

Providing for my Knight is vital. Hence, my practice.

Any meow, I was quietly confident so when we paused by the little brook crisscrossing two fields I knew my time had come.

The most beautiful fish were darting through the clear waters: silvery streaks as well as bright splashes of crimson and pink.

“Bertie,” said Jeeves with a slight blush at using my first name, “should you be so close to the water?”

I fluffed up my fur and flicked my ears. “Meow! Of course Jeeves, why not? I have been practising.”

Jeeves blinked in surprise as he finished removing Alys’ tack. Our steed tossed her head and went further upstream to drink. I’m certain she was helping me so I meowed my thanks and received a gentle whinny in return.

A splash as a fish leapt over the small dip in the brook where it formed a tiny cascade of water over glistening rocks into the lower bed seized my attention. It was time to hunt and prove I could provide for Sir Jeeves of K.K.

My bally nerves started up, but I pushed them away and jumped down the side of the bank to the soft soil right next to the bed of the brook. I crouched, watching. My fluffy ginger tail flicked slightly. I could hear the F. swimming through the waters, feel the squishy softness of the muddy bank under my paws, (which would require some cleaning off my paws and belly), and there was more…the scent of moss and the strange vibrant and crowded fragrance of the plants living underwater.

Insects and spiders ghosted across the surface, from algae or on the breeze from watercress clump to watercress patch. Thin white strands covered the plants as the spiders travelled along them as quickly as Madeline Bassett contemplating marriage to Gussie, to wavering towards me when the fellow does something dashed stupid.

Shuddering at the similarity I turned my feline fancy back to the matter at paw and contemplated the fast running brook.

There!

I leapt in one graceful motion and lashed out with my paw. A silvery fish shot up in the air and in a flash my jaws closed about the wriggly body. In a jiffy I was back on the shore and had clambered back up the bank to Jeeves who wore a most flummoxed expression.

Then it transformed into one of wonder and delight.

“Well done Bertie! That was magnificent! A true display of feline fortitude and skill.”

Well, I tell you, that did me the world of good. Dropping my now very still fish I sat back on haunches with a warm glow suffusing my body.

“It is for you my Kindly Knight,” I said and immediately proceeded to lick my wet fur back into place.

There was silence then movement as grass was crushed, releasing that pleasant smell of freshly shorn grass. A large hand touched my head and calloused yet tender fingers stroked. I stopped in sorting the fur on my chest and glanced up.

Oh, his smile made him even handsomer. I say, not fair right?

Yet his eyes were a deep dark brown, full of a glow I couldn’t place. His expression was a thoughtful one as his clever brain figured out something.
“For me? I thank you Bertie, but why? Surely you should have the pleasure in celebrating your first catch by eating aforementioned catch?”

This was the moment and I just hoped my blasted tongue wouldn’t confuse the whole thing.

“Well, that is to say, Sir Knight of Kindly Knots, the fish is for your remarkable B. which must require a lot of fishy goodness to keep working. Also, it is a thank you and a symbol of my ability to provide.”

My ears twitched and I forged on, scarcely able to admit to loving my Knight let alone revealing my true self.

“You may think it foolish, but I…care for you greatly. My affections are all genuine I assure you! As such I must declare my…”

I paused to steady my nerves as I prepared to tumble over the brink, for how could I reveal my true identity without hurting Jeeves?

You see, hiding your true self is rather tricky and becomes trickier the longer you go on. Meirion was quite right there. Oh, what a pickle I was in! Yet, as I fretted, Jeeves stopped petting me and laid down so we could see eye to eye. He was smiling still and I could see his B. had calculated away and concluded something. I hoped it wasn’t my identity, at least not yet.

“Bertie,” he said, so softly and kindly – just as was his nature – “please do not be afraid. I will not be angry. I hardly dare hope, and this is rather forward of me, so I beg forgiveness.”

Jeeves coughed delicately, his cheeks aflame.

“Am I correct in supposing that your…affections are ones of friendship?”

I meowed in agreement, heart beating fast. I could smell Jeeves’ nervousness yet the deep musk of hope and…I blushed in the feline fashion: ears momentarily pressed down then up.

“More than friendship..?” So tentative yet hopeful!

I meowed affirmatively once more, nearly fainting in hope.

The happiness that swept those handsome features was a sight to behold. The musky scent was now streaked through with the fragrant blossom of sheer joy.

“I am of quite the same temperament Bertie. That is, my affection is of a long-lasting nature. Like the evergreen it will not fade.”

How romantic. In return all I could do was show my pleasure and I headbutted my – my - Knight.

“The same Sir Jeeves!” I cried in response. “This is a jolly turn of events. My own personal K.!”

Jeeves laughed, yet the part I dreaded had finally arrived. I must tell Jeeves all.

Yet before I could continue with my confession I heard footsteps and into our little secret world stepped none other than Honoria Glossop.

☆☆☆

“Well I never!” she boomed.

She stood before us arrayed in an outfit more suited to a battlefield. Honoria was an old acquaintance and quite terrifying. Once or twice both my aunts have threatened me with marriage to Honoria.

I only escaped by being deemed “too meek” and in the second occasion saved by a whisker from the looming long walk down the aisle by a better option. Still haven’t met the individual in question but I am terribly grateful. They must either be loony or equally terrifying as Honoria.

For Miss Glossop puts most Knights to shame. A tall athletic lady who favours leggings, tunics and leather arm guards and a leather chest guard. Short sensible hair is brushed back and on her head is a studded leather helmet.

Currently she was carrying a bag, the strap secured over her head and opposite shoulder, a bow with arrows on her back and on her belt an assortment of equipment that would make a bandit think twice. A staff, with a peculiar raven symbol etched on it, also was attached to her back – I had seen it numerous times and thought it rather odd, but been too intimidated to ask for what purpose.

Now I blinked as my feline senses picked up what my dull human senses had not previously.

Oh no, Honoria is a witch!

Just my luck.

Of course, my Knight knew Honoria was a witch at once, by the swift way he rose and lifted me to his shoulder. Good, even though Honoria turned my blood to ice and my tail to droop, I couldn’t leave my Jeeves alone in her presence.

Even his frightful intelligence could be overcome by a beguiling spell!
So we faced H.G. together.

Honoria glanced at me, blinked and then rolled her eyes. My fur bristled, surely I wasn’t that bad a looking cat?

My purple collar was quite spiffing against my ginger and white fur!

“Bertie isn’t it? What have you got yourself into now? I suppose you are the poor Knight trying to cure Bertie’s aliment?”

Jeeves calmly nodded (how I do not know) and spoke in the same respectful manner he always did to people – or dragons and enchanted humans – he felt worthy, (for those unworthy he had a rum manner of sounding respectful, while somehow indicating what he really thought about you – drove the subject bonkers for there was nothing they could pin on my clever Knight and his magnificent B.).

“Yes, Miss..?”

“Glossop, Honoria Glossop.”

“Thank you Miss Glossop. I am Sir Jeeves of Kindly Knots and I am on a quest with Bertie to remove the enchantment cast upon him by the Wicked Witch of Weeping Willows.”

“Aunt Agatha up to her usual tricks I see,” snorted the powerhouse of a woman who recalled to mind that Celtic Warrior who drove back those Roman fellows. Began with a B. Bertha? Bettany? Boudicca?

I shook off the distraction as Sir Jeeves of K.K. nodded.

“Indeed Miss Glossop. In our quest we befriended a dragon who revealed what we must do to break the spell. We already possess the crystal, but alas we must seek a maiden with knowledge of spell-craft for the correct herbs and flowers, and then one of the little folk who dwell in the deep caverns of this world for a goblet to brew the potion from which Bertie must drink.”

H.G nodded along, amusement plain.

I curled my claws into the leather shoulder guards, happy that they would protect my Knight from the sharp touch of my claws.

“You looked rather comfortable for a Knight, Horse and Enchanted Cat on a quest,” noted Honoria, eyes sharp and assessing. One hand was on the hilt of her dagger, the other rubbing the back of her neck in a fashion that had my F. senses prickling.

Jeeves however was unfazed. I loved him even more – quite ridiculous honestly – surely there was only a certain amount you could love someone before bursting? Hopefully not, for at this bally rate I will be in an awful mess by tea-time, let alone by supper when Jeeves eats his fish!

“We are very much in love Miss Glossop I assure you.”

H.G. scrutinised us then nodded sharply. My fur settled I tell you and furthermore a flush of relief when there was no protest of trying to “regain” my affections.

“That I can see Sir Jeeves.”

“Thank you Miss Glossop. Now, may I be so bold as to request your assistance? For I can perceive that you are a sorceress and by the mark on your staff and your appearance you must be the Sorceress Raven of Ravenous Reaches?”

Honoria laughed, big and booming.

“Sir Jeeves you are a perceptive chap! Glad Bertie has you. He always needed a good stern hand.”

I say! Before I could protest, my brain suddenly processed Honoria’s title.

Golly! No wonder Honoria reminded me of that Warrior Queen! She was the famous Sorceress who had repelled a giant attack and healed an entire town of a curious sickness that had swept the populace, brought on by an evil wizard!

H.G. could also transform into animals and is said to take Raven form in many a tale. She dwelt in a place that was high indeed, on top of mountain shrouded in mists and fogs.

Legend says it is a wild place full of magical creatures and beings who lived in harmony with the Sorceress, but could be deadly to interlopers seeking treasure or do evil deeds.

Ravenous, that is, for the denizens and the ravenous rocks that clashed together at the bottom of the mountain that fronted the sea. My Aunt Dahlia had hammered into my skull that the rocks closed upon unwary travellers like in that Greek tale with a chap called Jason.

While my B. stuttered over this revelation and my claws sank deeper through Jeeves’ shoulder guards, seeking mental and physical purchase, my Knight of Kindly Knots was proceeding with the matter at hand.

“I thank you for the approval Miss Glossop. Will you then aid us in reversing the spell upon Bertie?”

“Naturally, we can’t have him bounding about as a cat. Can’t tell what further mischief he will get into,” exclaimed Honoria.

In two swift motions the sorceress had her bag open and herbs and flowers upon the green grass. Then she pulled free her staff where the crystal was a dazzling azure blue and said rather imperiously, “Place your crystal next to these herbs and flowers and I shall bless them so that when you brew them in the enchanted goblet the spell shall be broken.”

I sighed and jumped down. Padding over to my personal holdall I retrieved my precious crystal and with some effort rolled it to the most lusciously smelling herbal and floral collection. I sat back and waited.

H.G gave a spiffing show of a sorceress: arms raised, staff in one outstretched hand, her face stern. Under her helmet her grey eyes were as silvery as the fish in the brook and dashed serious.

The world held its breath like the sea about to crash upon the rocks in one fell movement.

My fur stood up as if a storm were brewing. Jeeves knelt next to me, a solid presence while Alys watched calmly, chewing grass without faltering.

My K.K. laid a hand on my back, the touch a comfort against the gathering storm as Honoria – no, the Sorceress of R. R – muttered a spell of immense power.

A hush was around us and a glow now surrounded Honoria, a steady grey-black that while frightening was also profoundly good.

As quickly as the hush had come it fled as the stormy sea clashed upon us. I curled into Jeeves as magical energies rolled over us and through the herbal and flowery collection. I was alive with a spell of vibrant life and healing that had me wishing to dash about as I had a tendency to do now as a cat; usually in the early hours or just before bed much to Jeeves combined exasperation and fondness.

I meowed even as Jeeves petted me. Thankfully it was all over in a jiffy. The vibrant rush of life slowly receded until one could breathe as normal and not feel as if one’s skeleton was about to leap from their body and do a lively jig.

Gasping in relief, I blinked when Honoria turned eyes the hue of molten silver to me. Her smile however was kind.

“It is done. Go from this place once you are rested and make for the caves of the North. There you shall find the dwarven folk who will aid you. Ask for Ragnarr and promise him your most treasured book – for he has a love for learning, knowledge and wisdom. I sense you are a wise man as well as clever, so converse well with him and he will craft the goblet you seek.”
She addressed me then and I was all aquiver with nerves.

“Bertie, good luck with Sir Jeeves. Don’t muck this up. Be honest and faithful and you shall succeed.”

Insult and support all in one rather surprising package. I was too stunned to do more than watch as my gallant Knight accepted the package of spelled herbs and flowers. He tucked my spelled crystal, which now sparkled with an inner light that flashed like the fish in the brook, into my holdall once more and then rose with me in his arms.

Wonderfully muscular and powerful arms I must inform you.

Honoria had collected herself while Jeeves was busy, her bag and staff once more in their positions.

All three of us were quiet for a minute then I witnessed the extraordinary:
Sir Jeeves, Knight of Kindly Knots wishing farewell to H.G., Sorceress of Ravenous Reaches. One Feline Prince, merely watched in amazement as the two great people, with magnificent B.s to match exchanged pleasantries.

“Good luck Sir Jeeves – with Bertie and the Quest! Do come for a visit.”

“Thank you and farewell Sorceress of Ravenous Reaches, may our paths cross again. Until then may the air under your wings never falter.”

Honoria roared with laughter and then to my astonishment she transformed into a jet black raven. In a flash of obsidian wings the R. was airborne and flapping away.

☆☆☆

Tea-time and supper had come and gone before we resumed our confessions of earlier. As before, my Knight lay before me on the grass, the deepening dusk about us.

I sat with my paws tucked under my body, like a fluffy loaf and contemplated that I could lose Jeeves. Yet I couldn’t lie to my K. who I was dashed in loved with. So I forced myself to utter the necessary words.

“Jeeves, I am not who you think I am.”

Jeeves nodded carefully and said quietly, seriously, yet underscored with the compassion of love.

“Indeed Bertie. I am aware that you have been concealing your true identity from me.”

I meowed in frank astonishment, heart and stomach aflutter, my ears erect with bewilderment. “Why did you stay silent then?”

“Because you must have had your reasons and I knew well enough – and even moreso now – that you were a good person. After journeying with you these past few days and our adventures thus far, I believe I can securely attest to your kind and courageous nature, your honourable bent and loyalty to friends, for you did not abandon me when facing the Baron nor at facing Miss Glossop.”

His expression became stern but his eyes were still tender. “Now, if you wish to inform me of your true identity then I would be honoured, but only if you wish it.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and had to lick my paw and wipe it over my whiskers and face to collect myself. Sitting upright, with my fluffy tail wrapped snuggly around my legs I steeled my resolve. Faint heart never won fair maiden – or better yet, Sir Jeeves of Kindly Knots.

“Sir Jeeves of K.K. I am not merely a Lord, but a prince. I am Prince Bertie Wooster of the Western Wilds – my land abuts yours of Kindly Knots. The forest you discovered me in was near to my castle.”

I faltered at the shocked expression on Jeeves’ face and dread welled in my belly. Please do not let him hate me.

“I…I was scared to tell you a first, because you were so kind and wonderful to me and I feared you would stop once you knew my true title. Dash it all Sir Knight! So many try to be my friends when they realise my position, but not before because I am stupid and-”

“You are not stupid,” interrupted Jeeves. I stared up in surprise at his fierce scowl, his eyes smouldering with anger and the outrage in his voice.

“Bertie…what I said previously remains true. You are a good and faithful man and cat. You have never shirked your duty, and have vigorously withstood your Aunt Agatha, Wicked Witch of Weeping Willows from interfering unjustly with your martial state.”

The fearsome Knight inhaled as my poor brain – not on par with Jeeves’ bountiful B. – spluttered to a stop. My whiskers were quivering and my tail lashing as my fur bristled. I was as unsettled as Gussie when he had found a new newt or Bingo a new girl.

How could Jeeves still think so highly of me?

Jeeves reached out, voice now slightly shaky, but with wonder and determination in his expression. A trembling hand eased my agitation.

“Normally I would be uneasy with class differences, but I love you and I will not dishonour your love for me with protestations. Nay, I will fight for the honour to keep and nourish your – our – love. If you would still see fit to pursuing our declarations of love.”

My mind was in a right bally state but I managed to firmly assure my Knight of my opinion. “I say yes! I want us to be together and look after our lands as one – your cleverness and wisdom and my cheerful disposition will be beneficial for our peoples. Oh Jeeves, I do love you!”

My Knight gathered me up and I curled up against his chest, wrapped in those powerful arms, my heart singing in joy.

I had gained the affections of my K. and would do my best to deserve his love and a happily ever after.

☆☆☆

A.N.2.; Split over two parts due to length!

Imagine me a happy puppy, lying on my back, tongue lolling out with happiness, paws dangling limply in the air, because THIS IS JUST THAT GOOD! Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!!!!! Honoria Glossop as a Sorceress is fantastic and completely IC. Love that she turns into a black raven!

The image of Jeeves lying on the ground so he can look into Bertie's face is so damn cute.

Jeeves and Bertie hiding somewhere with someone who must not discover them close by. Whispering they discuss their situation and plan their escape but one of them gets very turned on by the whispering of the other.

Awww thank you so much! I am SO HAPPY that you loved this part! It was awful fun to write.

Thrilled that you thought Honoria Glossop was an appropriate choice for Sorceress, as when she popped into my head she just fell into the role beautifully.

The image of Jeeves lying on the ground so he can look into Bertie's face is so damn cute.

Jeeves i is gentle soul with those he cares about, =^_^=!

Great fic! It's so brave not to take the easy way out.

Rating: Teen (just to be sure)
Tags: Fairy tale fare, animal transformation, Damsel in Distress!Bertie, Knight!Jeeves, Adventure, Quest
Words: circa 3,522

A/N: Thank you OP for the original prompt. This was my first Jeeves & Wooster fanfic, so I hope it has proven to be fun!

Thank you also for everyone’s patience in waiting for updates and for the lovely comments – both are much appreciated!

I have now posted this story to A03, so you can enjoy here on dreamwidth and also on the archive.

Now we must plunge once more into the Fairy-tale whereupon Jeeves and Bertie seek Ragnarr of the Dwarfs, so that they can brew the potion to lift the enchantment and seek their happily ever after…

Story on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22017397/chapters/52541857

This is split up over a couple comments due to length!

☆☆☆

Part 4 – The Dwarven Folk of the Northern Crystalline Caverns

Our sleep that night was charmingly comfortable. Nothing better than curling up against the man you love with a fire crackling away and Alys resting nearby. Jeeves’ warmth enveloped me, hotter and sweeter than the fire he had built. Where I lay on his chest, my fur caressed the skin under his chin, causing my Knight to smile in his sleep.

That content smile was the last thing I saw before falling asleep into peaceful dreams and the first sight upon awakening. Jeeves is quite a vision I must say, morning stubble, disarrayed hair and not his normally groomed self. Marvellously rough.

Jeeves sighed at my smug amusement and utter fascination. After an inquisitive paw mapped out the dark hair on his chin he lifted me down so he could proceed with his morning ablutions. I allowed him to remove the royal feline, as I too had to prepare myself for the final furlong of our Quest. I would to continue my observations later and present my findings to my fellows.

The state and splendour of Jeeves’ morning stubble was as important as deciding which ale was suitable for pride of place in the annual spring celebrations.

Mind happily made up I checked my purple collar was in good order and admired the sight in the glistening brook, where the too early morning sun reflected off to provide a clear mirror. I couldn’t wait for Jeeves to see my purple shoes when I was human once again. I am certain he will love them, for his expression whenever examining my collar is one of wonder.

There is a touch of some other emotion…possibly fascination? I would say horror, but that doesn’t make sense, must be fascinated admiration at my good taste. Wait until he hears about my idea of adding a purple plume to his helmet! Perfect with a P.

In fact…a Perfect Purple Plume or P.P.P. Meow!

Where was I?

Oh yes, morning ablutions. Once I had finished I returned to Jeeves for a hasty breakfast of tea, cooked fish (caught by one intrepid F.) and bread with butter.

Then we were off with a fully rested Alys.

As we galloped away from that miraculous brook where we confessed all, I mused upon H.G. being a sorceress – and the Sorceress Raven of Ravenous Reaches nonetheless! A night’s rest had transformed my opinion and I was feeling quite positive towards Honoria Glossop. It did help that she was no longer a threat, (of the death until we part “M” variety), and had sweetly assisted in providing ingredients for the potion, plus spelling my crystal.

Said crystal was tucked snugly between my paws in the holdall, (it was safer for me to be secured in the holdall when at a gallop), as I brooded.
We would have to invite Honoria to tea, one mustn’t upset a Sorceress after all – I have read those tales and definitely did not want the Sorceress Raven of R. R sweeping down upon us in anger! It would a rum thing to experience.

One Wicked Witch is quite sufficient.

Meirion would have to come with his children once they were settled and had the Baron’s lands turned to right.

I spent the rest of the day considering tea parties, Jeeves and I uniting our lands, marrying, (which now wasn’t a dreadful prospect). I really must point out to Aunt Dahlia the obvious: men were the ticket and specifically of the Jeeves persuasion.

Or possibly I’ll just let Jeeves loose on my Aunt D. He is bound to win her over with his superlative B. and extraordinary ability to turn matters in the favour of the requester.

Satisfied with my decision I settled into the journey.

☆☆☆

Another three days passed as we journeyed to the far north, the environment around us changing steadily from flatter plains and fields to more hills and rivers which carved out a winding path through the increasingly rocky surroundings. As the fertile environs slowly swept up to majestic mountains I dreamt of dragons and sorceresses, far removed from the Weeping Willows where my Aunt Agatha lurked.

On the fourth day we were greeted with a sky washed a pale pink-red as the sun rose, for we had ridden through the early hours of the night to reach by morning the crescent line of mountains that now towered in front of us. Jeeves had been anxious not to tarry long in territory where all manner of creatures dwelt.

Not dragons oh no, but Great Serpents akin to our snakes, some friendly others not so polite. Eagles that soared high upon the gusty winds and wished nothing to do with silly humans who had a dashed hard time understanding that not every being upon this earth deemed humans the best drink at the party.

I had glimpsed many other beings here as we rode: foxes and wolves and Great Cats the size of Alys! Their eyes shining in the moonlight or off the lit lantern hanging from Alys’ bridle had been a touch terrifying, recalling to mind the terrible time my Aunt Dahlia caught one small Wooster ferreting about in the Castle kitchen for a biscuit.

Unfortunately, child Bertie had no Jeeves for protection or quick thinking for a cover story. Now, however, most fortunately one feline Bertie had a Jeeves and said Knight expertly led us through all the potential danger, with Alys remaining calm and sharp-eyed.

Alys took a well-worn path and sooner than you could grab a drink at a party we were riding up into the mountains. Rapidly the air turned colder, a frosty crispness that crept into your lungs as you breathed. On one side the mountain plunged down into a sheer drop that gave this feline a light head, rather similar to when the Drones drink too much wine at our monthly meet in my Castle.

The Drones are bunch of chaps who drink and be merry, far too frequently according to both my Aunts. I suspect both A.s are unfortunately correct, because spending company with Jeeves makes one wish to reform. Yet I’m certain a little tipple every now and then will not hurt.

I know! I will ask Jeeves to get his magnificent noggin on the dilemma. I made a few claw marks into the cloth I had found during our travels. The marks would help remind me to ensure a variety of fish were in stock before putting the matter to my man.

Even as I arrived at this splendid conclusion Jeeves had Alys halt before a cave.

I peered out of my holdall to see the “Little Folk” or Dwarfs standing guard. Stocky and fearsome, they were clad in the most spiffing display of embroidered cloth, engraved metal and decorated leather. Weapons were close to hand and their beards were intricately beaded and looking utterly marvellous.

Every colour imaginable was on offer and I for one could hardly wait to broker a deal for the exchange of garments. Perhaps they could add a perfect purple plume to Jeeves’ helmet?

There was a short conversation and then we were being escorted into the cave and…well. All I can say is that the dwarfs are outstanding engineers. The walls of the cave were hollowed out with expert precision with magically glowing crystals set at intervals. More traditional torches were secured into the ground on tall pillars of stone, their light illuminating a strange contraption which held a curved boat.

A dashed complicated and confusing pulley system was attached to the long boat – a bit similar to the one those Viking chaps had when they popped over to good old Blighty for more than a cup of tea and cake.

We were herded onto this boat whereupon this massive crack opened beneath us. It was the size of a bally cathedral!

I say, I was dashed glad for Jeeves’ presence. He had dismounted from Alys and was holding her reigns. His other hand was petting my head, for I was still safely secured in the holdall.

I meowed quietly, watching in fascination and mild horror. My eyesight was sufficient to see the pinpricks of light below us: as if the stars had dropped from the heavens to be inside the hollows of the earth.

Very pretty (and a dashed scary to boot)!

Heat rose up to us. The dwarfs stationed on the boat began to slowly lower us through the crack into a Cavernous Chasm (capitals once more well deserved!). I could smell metals and minerals and fresh air riding on numerous drafts.

We were in a space so vast I couldn’t comprehend the size of it. My fear of heights however was gone for there was only the night and stars cupping us, with extra illumination coming from the glowing crystals that were attached to the fore and aft of the boat and to the staves of three of the dwarfs.

There was no height to be afraid of, for perception was skewered – how the dwarfs managed to navigate this bally boat was an amazing feat worthy of the engineering genius of their kind.

The smell and taste of magic – life with a metallic tang – crackled among my fur and Alys’ coat. Jeeves hair was ruffled, his helmet and weapons on the saddle.

I breathed deep of Jeeves’ musky odour which calmed my nerves. My ears twitched for in the distance I could discern the faint roar of a waterfall and waterways. A jolly thing being a cat! I would miss this when I was just plain old Bertie again.

Gradually the starry night was displaced by the steady glow of more lighted crystals and we touched a still lake. The lake was in the centre of a complicated cave system, so vast that we couldn’t see the far walls.

We were ushered off onto a platform where Alys was gently led by a dwarf to a stable house just to our right. Alys whinnied and happily followed for the dwarf was chatting about food, water and warmth.

Meanwhile, we turned to the left where a dwarf was waiting. He was hale and hearty with a magnificent golden beard tucked into his belt. Jewelled beads adorned the golden hair, neatly plaited and on his head was a hat of leather to keep him clean.

The best? He had a Perfect Plume (scarlet) in his hat! Now this was the dwarf to ask for a P.P for my own Knight!

Utterly delighted I nearly missed the introduction.

We had found Ragnarr, Crafter and Smith of the Dwarfs of the Northern Crystalline Caverns.

☆☆☆

Part 4 – The Dwarven Folk of the Northern Crystalline Caverns Continued

Ragnarr sat astride the stone chair in his smithy, smoking his pipe with a contemplative expression. His brown eyes were of the piercing sort – you felt as if an arrow had sailed right through you when his gaze focused on your person.

Most alarming.

Naturally Jeeves was unfazed and returned an assessing look upon the Master Dwarf, full of a similar piercing quality, as well as that bright intelligence that is sharper than a dragon’s tooth and brighter than the sun.

Clearly this was the occasion for a Wooster to remain silent.

I did my best, but after half an hour I was restless and had the jitters.
So I uncurled myself from where I had plonked the old form next to the fire, (hot enough to scorch toast!), and began batting about a few stray embers. The exercise did me good, and I fancy, showed me off most handsomely to my Knight who stole appreciative glances towards me.

Otherwise, I ignored both gentlemen for their conversation was of a philosophical bent, with much “improving of the mind” books being debated. While I am sure that such subjects are eminently suitable for Jeeves’ B. and Ragnarr’s perceptive mind, this Feline Prince preferred a nourishing drink to wet the whistle, scrumptious food and a perfect cup of tea.

Currently, said F.P. also relished raw meat, long grass, splashing in the water to capture a jumping fish and chasing The Thread of Doom and the Bright Ember of the Forge, but a Wooster knows how to adapt.

The B.E. of the F. captivated me for a while until I discovered the box of feathers stashed away in a dark sooty corner.

The battle was underway.

The Code of the Wooster’s demanded I take retribution on the elusive feathers so I yowled to announce war, (couldn’t take them by surprise, wouldn’t be honourable), and pounced.

A fast feathery fight later I collapsed with my prize: a bevy of purple feathers of all different shades. I hoped that Ragnarr would permit me to keep them for Jeeves’ plumage.

Indeed, the Master Dwarf was evidently amused by something for he was laughing when I took note of the Knight and Dwarf. Jeeves’ eyes were merry and his face a shiny disc of happiness.

“The feathers take your fancy Fair Prince?” asked Ragnarr, his voice as deep as the mountain he resided in, and thick and sweet as honey.

“For…for…Jeeves,” I panted. Hmpf, what could Jeeves mean by that look of alarm? No bally rats here!

Ragnarr chuckled. “Well then, I can’t say no to such a handsome cat. May I ask what Sir Jeeves is meant to do with your feathers?”

I grinned, preening even as I tried to paw off the feather balanced on the top of my head. “Plumage for his helmet. Jeeves will match my collar - and shoes – then. The Perfect P.P.!”

Jeeves went slightly pale and I realised he must be faint from the heat.

“Perfect Purple Plumage,” I explained even as I rose, shook the feathers out of my fur and wandered over to Jeeves, tail straight up in joy.

I placed a ginger white paw on Jeeves’ leg and mustered up as much sternness as possessed by the Wooster lineage, (in my dreaded Aunts – far too much).

“Have some water Jeeves, you have gone terribly pale. Reminds me of the time when Gussie lost Madeline’s book when looking for newts. Poor chap – poor me!”

Ragnarr was coughing for some reason, must be his billowing pipe, while Jeeves merely nodded and drank without speaking. I shrugged and paid attention to the Dwarf who spoke while Jeeves was fortifying himself.

“I can easily forge this goblet for you. Wait in my house and it shall be done by the time the sun sets today, for you must drink the potion in the moonlight, when the rays of the rising moon can fall upon the liquid contents.”

A shiver passed through me. I would miss being a cat, but being the human Bertie again would be most spiffing.

“How much?” I asked.

“Sir Jeeves has paid the price,” reassured Ragnarr. “His conversation and company are rewards in their own right, but he has blessed me with two books of great knowledge and wisdom. As for fashioning a plumage on his helmet…I would be glad to in exchange for an opportunity to discuss open trade between my peoples and yours.”

I grinned and meowed happily, tail bushy and purring as I responded, “It would by my pleasure!”

☆☆☆

Thus it was, as a cold night closed in and a white moon rose that Jeeves and I were waiting outside the caverns of the Dwarfs.

Jeeves sat cross-legged; the freshly brewed potion contained in a silver goblet. The only design was one of ravens, dragons, a knight on a horse and a cat outside a castle. Symbols of a Quest thus far.

I waited next to him, the fragrance of the potion teasing my nose. It was the most wonderous smell, the scents of the wild we had travelled through, the beings we had met, and of Jeeves.

Gradually the white moon crested the horizon as darkness fully fell. The Dwarfs behind us had lit lanterns and unveiled the crystals spelled with magic to illuminate the night. Ivory moonbeams fell upon the potion, catching the crystal that was nestled at the bottom of the cup.

The colours that Honoria had coaxed into life within the crystal gleamed bright in the moon, turning the golden liquid a medley of colour.

The time was nigh.

I couldn’t tell you how I knew that I must drink then or be trapped forever as a cat, but somehow this Wooster understood that the Quest would be for naught if I did not act immediately.

So in a single bound I was balanced on one muscular leg, with a front paw resting on Jeeves’ left arm. Dipping my head down I drank deeply.

As my tongue lapped away memories swirled through me. My fear and resentment at Aunt Agatha, my determination to be free, my desperation….followed by my awe and hope at meeting Jeeves, my growing love for Jeeves, my exhilaration at being a cat – the joy at befriending a dragon, the heat of battle when defending Meirion the Dragon, my wonder at realising Honoria was a Sorceress…the starry night of the yawning Chasm that led to the Crystalline Caverns inhabited by the Dwarfs.

So many memories, scents, emotions and sensations washed through me like a wave until at last all the potion was drunk and I was licking my whiskers clean.

Gazing up at the silent moon, now much higher in the heavens, I shivered as her beams cupped me in a peculiar warmth that was jolly welcome. My belly was hot and full, my spirit burning bright – as if I had just enough wine at the Drones, but not too much.

Exhaling, I jumped off Jeeves as if in a dream and heard my concerned K. asking if I was well.

I couldn’t answer for all of a sudden I was changing.

In a dreamlike blur I witnessed my fur retreating, my claws becoming nails and my purple shoes popping back into being. In a jiffy, Bertie Wooster, Prince of the Western Wilds was once more human.

My clothes sadly to say were not suitable for such a cold climate.

“I say Jeeves it is bally cold! I don’t suppose you have a blanket?”

My wonderful Knight was blinking back tears and I was engulfed by those powerful arms I admired so much.

Let me tell you, they were fantastic as a kitty, but simply smashing when human.

The kiss was a corker.

Just perfect.

☆☆☆

With that our Quest was complete. Naturally, more had to be done. A long and arduous journey home awaited us, with a fight against the dreaded Aunt Agatha, the Wicked Witch of Weeping Willows.

Yet we didn’t face the dreaded Aunt Agatha, the W.W. of Weeping Willows on our lonesome.

No, for on our return furlong we gathered all the companions and friends we had met: Ragnarr, greatest Crafter and Smith of his people in the Far Northern Crystalline Caverns; Honoria – the Sorceress Raven of Ravenous Reaches; Meirion the Dragon who had cured the Baron’s lands, transforming them from Sickly Swamp to Sweetly Scented Swamp.

As one we faced my aunt and banished her.

Weeping Willows were no more, rather they became Winsome Willows – full of the simple joy of varied plant life and fauna.

Unfortunately, I can’t go into the details here as that is quite a different adventure full of derring-do, sorcery, unbeatable ingenuity from our Master Dwarf and Jeeves’ brilliant B. dealing all sorts of tactical genius, while yours truly utilised all the sneaky tricks I had learnt when a cat.

I will say that my purple shoes positively make me as silent and sure footed as any feline. Jeeves’ expression is always one of horrified awe. Quite splendid.

Any meow, I have prattled on long enough.

Maybe one day, when the old noggin is feeling up to it and I’m not gadding about after our bevy of children, (another tale for another day!), I shall pen the details of our Voyage Home, our Battle against Aunt A., my marriage to Jeeves and the subsequent treaties we initiated once our lands were as one.

First, I must have a cup of tea. An exhausting business all this adventuring! Now, where is my dragon tea-service?

“Bingo! Gussie! Honoria? Have you seen the bally tea-cups? I’m sure they were in the cupboard. Oh no, children!”

☆ And they lived Happily Ever After ☆

Many years later..

They Lived Happily Ever After is a jolly promising ending – and quite true! Despite a few upsets throughout life we had a bally excellent journey through life I can tell you. Quests and friendships and advancements in medicine and engineering – too much to count.

Now we rest, allowing our children and grandchildren to take the reins.

What tales of wonder will they weave? As long as I can find the tea-service I’m sure it will be fine.

On that note, I must leave you to fetch tea for Jeeves – he was seeing to the grandchildren and our guests: an Ancient Dragon – our dear friend Meirion, Honoria the Sorceress of Ravenous Reaches and her wife, and Ragnarr with his beard now long and pearlescent white.

So toodlepip!

May you all have a Happily Ever After as well – Meow!

=^_^=

What a wonderful, wonderful finish! Thank you for this splendid tale!

Children...?

Many's the night Bertie will sit by the fire and regale the children with the stories of Sir Jeeves and his many exploits!

I would love to read something like this!

Prompt: Jeeves/Bertie, erectile dysfunction - One of them has never been able to get an erection due to some physiological problem that can't be cured. It never bothered him much until the other, whom he loves, confesses his romantic and sexual interest. He tries to focus on the romance and wants to keep his problem a secret as long as possible but talking about it can't be avoided forever.

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Page 31 of 36

Let The Kinkiness Begin!

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Fill: The Unusual Situation, Part 1

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Feline Frolics – A Bertie & Jeeves Fairy-tale PART THREE (a)

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Feline Frolics – A Bertie & Jeeves Fairy-tale PART FOUR (a)

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