The False Shopkeeper

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: House of Ghosts

Chapter 2 (v.1) - A Witch, a Kiss and an Unexpected Risque

Submitted: March 29, 2017

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Submitted: March 29, 2017




Chapter 2 - A Witch, a Kiss and an Unexpected Risque


I had managed to survive a full week under the non-existent tutelage of Greybear the wolf-man. I was beginning to get to grips with what it took to be an assistant manager (promoted myself) of a small but well-situated item store in the middle of a well-populated town. I was beginning to learn the names and appearances of the items we kept in stock, I couldn't afford a repeat of the tabasco fiasco.


I was busy re-stocking one of the shelves with a myriad of useful potions that had just been delivered, somehow Greybear was capable of knowing exactly what we needed and having it delivered when we needed it without getting out of his favourite rocking chair. I had just finished putting the last of the deliveries away when the annoying jingle of the welcoming bell rang as two customers walked in. Two, very, very attractive customers.


I straightened myself up in a flash, the primal male instinct possessed my soul. They only female to have stepped in the store before then was an elderly regular by the name of Mrs. Perryfaw. She never, ever bought anything. She would just come in and chat, but her old eyes had the cunning of a sexually depraved fox but I was unsure of how to go about getting a restraining order in this world.


The latest customers appeared to have walked out of a pop idol dressing room, garments of mismatched size and colour adorned their bodies, the kind of clothing that revealed more than it concealed. It was a type of flamboyance one would expect in the era of gaudy fanservice (not that I disapprove) and was a welcome sight after a long week of confusion.


“How can I be of service? I asked, ensuring my voice was a little deeper than usual.


“Hmm, before that, how about a discount?” The one on the right, with long dark hair and ultra monotone clothing, seductively bit her lip.


My heart skipped a beat, I felt weak at the knees, but not for the reason you assume. What was clearly meant as some scheme to convince me, the young shopkeep, to provide favouritism by way of libido was rendered ineffective by the trickle of blood that drooled down her chin and I was struggling to hold in my laughter.


“Winry, here, you kind of bit too hard.” The girl on the left with similarly lengthed white hair, wearing the same frilly skirt and inadequate-torso-covering t-shirt (hers were more rainbow than mono)  handed a handkerchief to her companion.


“Shh, Cindy, if we say nothing he won’t notice, men don’t look at your face, that’s what my mother used to say.” Winry batted away the handkerchief with her hand, she took up what she thought to be a sexier pose, leaning forward so much as if forcing me to look at her breasts. I was worried that if her angle of incline got any worse there was a possibility of her falling over and I had no idea what kind of insurance Greybear had, probably none.


The colourful Cindy bowed slightly, slyly apologising for her scarily naive friend. “Winry, I think that’s enough, he doesn’t seem interested.”


That wasn’t completely true, they were both attractive and definitely flaunted it but I had become far more intrigued by how misleading their appearances were in comparison to their personalities. Winry wore black like it was going out of style and her eerie makeup, while still hot, made her look like someone cosplaying a necromancer who dabbled in porn. But despite her ‘cool’ looks, she seemed unbelievably naive and clumsy. In comparison, we had Cindy who looked liked her favourite colour was accidental paint spillage mixed with cotton candy. Yet in reality, she appeared to have a very mature aura about her.


Realising I had may have been staring a little too intently I tried to bring the conversation back to the topic of commerce. “So, are you looking for anything in particular.?


“Are you?” Once again Winry attempted to user her womanly charm to coerce a discount out of me. This time she went for a raised leg approach, it took a few attempts to get her leg up on the counter but when she did it her face beamed with accomplishment. I almost didn’t have the heart to tell her that her actions were unhygienic, almost.


After asking her to refrain from effectively dry-humping the furniture, Winry turned to Cindy with a look that would make just about anyone give up. To call it puppy eyes would be an injustice, I nearly felt the urge to just hand over all my money but considering that some places in England won’t accept Scottish banknotes I highly doubted their worth in a parallel world, or dimension or whatever the fuck correct terminology would be.


“Fine, but owe me,” said Cindy, presumably caving into Winry’s silent request.


The events that transpired went beyond my wildest expectations as the two attractively mismatched girls started making out in front of me. It was an exquisite display of tongue manship (not a word)  by both parties. Like in most cases, Cindy took on the dominant role, fully controlling the length and intensity of every touch. Winry submitted herself fully to the ensuing pleasure and I adopted the role of observer, you know, for science. It was certainly a sight you don’t see everyday, especially when the fantasy world you're transported to doesn’t have any kind of functioning internet where one might peruse at such acts.


After a steamy minute had passed they both turned to me, discounted anticipation lit up their already rosy faces. I knew what they wanted, but life is just a series of seemingly unimportant decisions. They had decided to relinquish their dignity in order to shave as a percentage off Greybears arguably pricey selection and I had chosen to watch. If the world was governed by equivalent exchange then I might have been inclined to provide a discount. However, I had taken a liking to my humble existence of savvy (self-proclaimed) businessman and believed that while their display of affection was indeed riveting, it was not worth any form of payment, mainly because I wasn’t involved.


“Sorry to disappoint but I’m afraid I am unable to offer a discount, I can, however, direct you to some cheaper alternatives if need be.”


“Ha, you’re a tough nut to crack,” said Cindy.


“Don’t sell yourself short, the nut came quite close to the breaking point,” I replied.


“Interesting, you win this time but we’ll be back. Winry, let’s go.” They both headed for the door, Winry blew a passing kiss while Cindy dragged her out by the arm.

“Please buy something next time,” I shouted as they left.


I turned around to see Greybear giving me one of his infamous ‘looks.’ I could never tell what was going on in that furry head of his. Was he disappointed in the lack of sales? Was he disgusted at the immorality of today’s youth? I’ll never truly know.




It had been a busy afternoon following the unexpectedly erotic morning but this was something I had come to expect. I’m referring to busy afternoons, not mild eroticism. The afternoon was a peak period for two types of adventurer. Those who are restocking after early morning adventures and those who were getting ready for late-night escapades. One of my regulars, as in someone I had seen more than twice in my brief week of employment, was currently browsing our wares. His name was Arden, a seasoned adventurer who even possessed a catchy moniker, ‘Arden the Goblin Slayer’ they called him. Albeit from what I had learned, Goblins were a frequent but low-risk menace for most adventurers but Arden’s dedication to wiping them out was something to admire, and sort of fear at the same time. Arden was built like the unlikely offspring of a tree and a slice of wafer thin ham. Tall and lanky as they come but apparently well versed in the magic arts. Oh yeah, magic’s a thing here, crazy shit. Not that I have a talent for it or anything, this isn’t one of those stories.


“You looking for anything in particular?” I asked.


“Hmm, I can’t decide between ‘Sir Alleluhas Guide to Blasphemous Dark Magic that should never be read by upstanding citizens’ or ‘Of Mice and Goblins.’ This shop certainly possess an interesting selection of books.


“Well if books are your interest then maybe Greybear could help, he’s never not reading one.”


I turned to my wolf-man boss. He looked me back at me, his hostile gaze oppressed my very being. Then, ever so simply he said, “no.”


“Looks like he’s busy, anything else?” I tried to remain composed. Honestly, I think I was taking the whole other world transportation thing well but the intimidating nature of my ever so stationary boss was pretty hard to ignore.


“Tell me, Furio, you heard any rumours lately?” Asked Arden.


I almost corrected him by saying; my name’s Leonard but quickly remembered I had given a false name on my first name and it would have been a hassle to change back.


“What kind of rumours?” I asked.


“The unconfirmed kind.”


So, just normal rumours then?”





“Nothing in particular, but remember I haven’t been working here long so there’s a lot I don’t know.”


“Ah, of course, of course. Well then, let me tell you this, apparently, there’s a witch in town.”


The significance of his remark was lost on my otherworldly self so I replied with a shrug.


“Witches come in many forms but most are known for their trickery, brutality and their dislike of the weak.”


“They hate the weak?” I shuddered. The whole scenario felt like a quest setup, except instead of an overpowered high schooler with insane magical potential, I was a twenty-one year old with insane student debt.


“Indeed, Witches believe that magic is the force of gods and all those who can not use it are unnecessary to the world. Essentially, they are extremist mages.”


“Sounds intense.”


“Yes, well, just be careful,” he said, before abruptly leaving.


“Please buy something next time,” I said, finally understanding the hindrance I was to NPC shopkeepers in video games when I didn’t but things.




Night had enveloped the town of Idleburg, a sleep blanket of light brought forth by natural moonlight and scare street lamps provided just enough illumination to see two steps in front of you. It was the end of another long, yet oddly satisfying day. I guess the pace of working the shop suited me quite well. The hours were long but the downtime even longer. The work was simple enough to grasp but the art of commerce allowed something to be eventually mastered. Plus it was in a fantasy world where girls make out for discounts, wolf-men act like old men and witches pin you to the ground with the power of magic.


Before I could properly close the front door I felt myself launched backward, smacking my head on the counter. Greybear rushed to his feet, the fastest I’d ever seen him move but he quickly met a similar fate and as blown backward. The sound of heels approached as a cloaked figure entered the shop through the now doorless doorway. I looked up, I saw black underwear. I looked further up and saw the wearer, a hellishly sexy woman brandishing a staff in her right hand. She dramatically disrobed herself, which is far less exciting than it sounds because I mean she literally took off her hooded robe and placed it on a nearby table. Albeit what was underneath the robe was still worthy of excitement. Imagine the girl of your dreams, so long as the girl of your dreams is a 5’9 brunette with the figure of a goddess (a super erotic goddess) wearing a rather revealing one piece black dress and heels. Very, very long heels, which were pushing down against my chest as she looked down at me with her violent green eyes. I say ‘violent’ not due to the unusual swirl of green that her eyes took but for the fact that she just looked really violent in general.


“Are you the one they call Furio?” She asked, her voice had an attractive growl to it, it was somewhere between ‘I’ve had enough of your bullshit’ and ‘I smoke one hundred a day.’


“I don’t usually get rough on the first date but I’m willing to make the exception,” I replied, ignoring the potential lethality of the situation.


“Ha, you’re not what I expected, you don’t look special to me.”


“Give it time, true love takes time,” I joked, again.


“Is it true you opened a gate?” She asked.


“Gate? Oh, you mean the weird pink thing? Na, Greybear over there pulled me through it.”


Greybear stood up, seemingly feeling fine after the earlier attack, the guy had already started reading his book again, without a care in the world. One push of resistance and he just gave up, unbelievable. “I didn’t open it,” he paused. “Gate just appeared. I went through. Met Furio.”


I had quickly come to realise that Greybear’s snappy sentences were the result of incredible laziness as opposed to a language barrier. Even talking was too much effort for me, sometimes I was impressed he managed to live as long as he had.


“So, you did open it then.” She returned her attention to me, digging in those heels a little bit deeper.


“I mean, it was just sort of there for me too,” I replied.


“Yet here you are in another world and have no problem speaking our language.”


“Language? It’s just English, right?”


“I’ve never heard of this ‘English.’ The most common language spoken within the nation of Procrast is Idolian. Do you get what I’m trying to say? You are no ordinary fool, but still a fool regardless.”


“I assure you, I am as ordinary as they come.”


“Spare me the bullshit, you’re coming with me.”


Before either of us could say anymore a sudden gust of wind forced the dark haired witch into the wall. Then stepped in contestant number two, another girl holding another staff which I assumed to mean another witch. While my field of view was limited due to the whole pinned to the ground thing I could make out most things. The latest visitor was a bit shorter, had light red hair and was infinitely more conservative than her dark haired counterpart. She was wearing a family friendly outfit that consisted of a morally unambiguous skirt and a long sleeved shirt-vest combo that was actually her size. She was more cute than violently sexy.


The two witches stared at each other for a moment, sparks of light began to form at the tips of their respective staffs and it was at that moment that two things came to mind.


First was the fact that I had no bloody clue what was going anymore. The second was the fact the what I felt from being removed from the clutches of the witches’ heel was not relief but disappointment.



I realised that I was a masochist.



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