I Am NOT a Catgirl! Ch. 3: The Bird (Patreon)

When Ara gave me my schedule and I looked over my course plan, I snorted and spent my day wandering the school, sneaking bites from the kitchen while Augie went to her classes. After a better dinner than I’d ever eaten at home, Augie showed me where to find a set of school-issued sleepwear. I’d expected something akin to nun robes, and honestly, it would have been better if they were.

I hid away behind one of the curtains in the communal washroom, pinching a thin white shift with spaghetti straps. As heavy and uncomfortable as the maid uniform was, it had a lot of coverage. This little number did not.

But if I didn’t wear it, I’d look even more out of place. Which wasn’t an option. My face and neck burned at a thousand degrees as I learned how to untie the apron and unlace my dress. I made mental notes on how the lace was situated so I could do the same thing in the morning. When I was stripped down to my stockings and underwear, I froze.

I’d touched a girl’s bra twice in my whole life—not counting folding the laundry, of course. Seeing one around my chest spawned a lot of feelings that I wasn’t ready to deal with. I traced my lithe stomach, letting my fingertips brush over the garter belt and very flat panties.

Shit. I really am all catgirl.

Was I supposed to wear all of it to sleep? The lace was pretty scratchy, and I was certain the straps linked to my stockings would wake me up if I stretched out my legs. I erred on the side of caution, figuring I could base it on whatever Augie was wearing, and threw the nightgown on. The hem dropped just below the knees, and the fabric was very soft on my arms. But the way it hugged my waist and chest made it hard to tear my eyes away and collect my maid uniform from the floor.

When I returned to 201, I found Augie perched on the side of her bed, meticulously running a brush through her long white hair. Her equally white eyelashes were downcast, and she hummed a gentle song.

She looked beautiful in her night gown, and her slender arms and delicate build were adorable. As I looked her over, the two tiny points on her chest made it very clear that she’d ditched the bra. My embarrassment kicked up to a thousand and one degrees as I quietly shuffled to my bed and folded my uniform.

“Oh! Welcome back, Madeline!” Augie said. “Goodness, do you wear your stockings to bed? I find them so itchy when I’m trying to sleep.”

“N-no, I just… I thought it’d be easier to take them off in here,” I murmured. “Don’t want to lose anything, you know?”

“Hm, I see! Your uniform does have more pieces than what I am accustomed to. But you know that you can change in our room, right? This is your space as much as it is mine.”

I licked my lips. That morning, I would have jumped off a cliff at a chance to see a naked catgirl. But I’d wanted that in my body, not this one. “Thanks, Augie. I’ll keep that in mind.”

I wandered to the farthest corner of the room and took down the garter belt and stockings as quickly as I could. I fumbled a bit on the hooks, but it was good practice for the death-contraption that was the bra. Seriously, how did women wear all of this shit and still exist with ease?

I had to force my eyes away from my bare chest. It wouldn’t look good in front of Augie if I was ogling my own skin. I added the bra to the pile of clothes on top of my wardrobe and shuffled to the bed. The room was suddenly much colder on my bare legs.

…Hairless bare legs. I realized as I sat down. No hair on my legs. No hair on my chest or my face. Just my ears and tail. I shivered.

“Ah! Are you cold? The blankets are nice and warm.” Augie gestured helpfully to the blankets underneath me.

“Thanks.” I peeled my eyes away from my legs and looked at Augie. Then I had to peel my eyes away from Augie and crawl under the blankets. She was right, they were very comfortable.

But there was nothing that would help me sleep that night. My imagination kicked into overdrive with the silence and Augie’s gentle breathing. I could hardly believe it when I heard the chime of the morning bells.

I blinked away the burning in my eyes and rubbed my face. Augie yawned and stretched. Her back arched into a delicious curve, and I caught a glimpse of her pink nipple beneath her nightgown. I buried my face in my pillow and groaned.

“Good morning, Madeline!” Augie said brightly.

“Morning,” I grumbled into the pillow.

“Let us eat breakfast together, and then I will show you to your first class!”

I dragged my maid uniform and redressed. Slowly. It felt like it took forever, no matter how much I’d paid attention to it the day before. There was a lot of hooking undergarments around my front and then spinning them around to the back. I was embarrassed to ask Augie to tie the bow of my apron, and I gave her some bullshit excuse that my fingers were too cold from the room.

My ineptitude with women’s clothing made breakfast a rushed event before Augie showed me to the first classroom. She waved and dashed off to her own class as soon as I stepped through the door.

Three long, narrow islands were neatly separated from one another, each with three workstations that held a rack of pots and pans, a line of spices, unmarked bottles, and utensils.

Cooking class. Shit. I could make a mean box of mac and cheese, but anything more complex was asking a lot of me.

The teacher was a short, mousy-looking woman with the attitude of a drill sergeant. She asked me my name, introduced herself as Ms. Glaze, and then immediately moved on to teaching. No icebreakers here, I guess.

Today’s lesson was some pheasant-looking bird called a ‘long-tailed keeper’ that we had to pluck, skin, season, sear, and then bake. As I looked over my workstation, I couldn’t find any cords, sockets, or batteries that suggested electricity.

How am I supposed to do anything beyond season this thing?

The girl to my right walked to one end of the room, retrieved a faded scroll, returned to her station, held a hand over her pot, and whispered words I couldn’t understand. A vivid orange glow enveloped her hand, then jumped to the pot.

Magic? Seriously? I gaped.

She looked up at me and smiled. “You are new, correct?”

“Yeah—I mean yes.” I coughed. “Yes. I’m new.”

“Well met, Madeline. I am Kaycee.” She bowed. The orange braid over her shoulder dangled in the air, then rested back on her ample chest as she rose. “The scrolls to ignite your station are just over there. You simply read one to cast it—the Spell will not consume any of your [Myana Points].”

Those were words. “Thanks, Kaycee.”

I collected a scroll and held it over the plucked bird in my pan. The words were simple enough. I took a deep breath and murmured, “Spirits of the flame hear my plea. [Enchant Fire].”

The same orange glow leapt from my hand to the pan, and I jumped back. It was real. Magic was real.

There had to be a way to turn me back.

I waited for Lieutenant Glaze to wander to the opposite end of the room before hissing at Kaycee, “Hey. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. What may I assist you with?”

“How do I get to Tristan?”

Kaycee’s cheeks pinked as she lifted the bird with a long fork. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I am afraid that is not so easy. There are many who have waited on his schedule for over a year—”

“His schedule?”

“Yes. Only the school’s top-performing students are allowed a timeslot. I’m sure you understand, it is an honor and a privilege to bear kittens for our island’s man.”

I slipped and stabbed the fork right through the bird. The prong hit the pan with a loud Clang! and everyone in the room looked at me.

A sex schedule?

Bear kittens?

“S-sorry,” I stammered, yanking the fork away. I’d ‘seared’ the thing to a crisp.

When everyone’s attention was off me once more, I chewed my lip and called back to Kaycee. “What if I just wanted to talk with him?”

Kaycee frowned and narrowed her green eyes. “Why would you make such a selfish request when a deserving catgirl could use the time to conceive?”

Oh boy. “N-no. You’re right. Obviously.” I had to dial it back. She was getting visibly upset. “I was just, er, embarrassed to ask for it so directly. H-how do you get on his schedule?”

“Ah.” Her expression softened. “I can understand your embarrassment. Many girls feel the same. But there is nothing to be ashamed of.”

We have skyrocketed beyond that point, Kaycee.

“As I mentioned, only the School of Venicia’s elite can be added to Tristan’s schedule,” Kaycee continued. “You must perform well in all of your classes and exemplify our credo. Madame Celestia herself must take notice of you.”

I looked down at the blackened bird in my pan. I think baking it would have reduced it to charcoal. Not a great start to the ‘elite’ part.

“Madeline, are you delicately searing a long-tailed keeper? Or are you hoping the perfect dish will rise from its ashes?” Ms. Glaze turned her nose up at my bird—or lack thereof.

I am an idiot sandwich. “I guess I seared it a little too long.”

“And now your guests go hungry, your event is ruined, and your name is shamed,” Ms. Glaze continued. “Poor marks for the day, Madeline. I would advise you to study cooking outside of the classroom should you wish to continue your tutelage here.”

I left the classroom smelling like I’d set fire to a KFC and checked my schedule. Next was “Presentation.” I had no idea what that would entail, but thankfully, the room numbers were just as clear as our dormitory numbers, and, with Augie’s help, led me upstairs to a ballroom.

A ballroom.

What the hell?

As far as I had gathered, there was one man on this entire island. Did the girls dance with each other? Did Tristan take turns and dance with each one of the maids until he passed out?

Not much different from a sex schedule if you think about it.

Six round tables, each with a full setting for eight people, circled the edges of the room, and a giant chandelier hung in the center. I was one of the first to arrive, and the teacher’s eyes locked onto me like an eagle on a fish. She glided across the room in her red ballgown, clasping her gloved hands at her waist. The motion was so uncannily smooth that I couldn’t help but stand there and watch.

“You must be Madeline.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Yes, I’m Madeline.” I bowed at the waist.

“Goodness. There is much to be done.” She clicked her tongue. “I am Mistress Gwendolyn, your instructor in presentation.”

I cleared my throat and straightened. “Right.”

By then, other girls began to trickle in, Augie and Kaycee included. I recognized a few others from the cooking class, but otherwise, it was a room filled with strangers.

“Please remain standing here, Madeline.” Gwendolyn set a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. There was a shocking amount of strength in that grip. “Ladies, today we will assist Madeline by reviewing what we’ve learned so far. I will ask her to demonstrate a key component of presentation, and you will assist me in correcting her.”

Oh, come on. Are we seriously doing this?

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, very aware of the straps of my garter belt. Why did one feel looser than the other? It’s just my imagination.

“Now, Madeline, please walk across the room,” Gwendolyn instructed.

I looked one way, then the other. “Which direction?”

“Mm. To the right, if you would be so kind.”

“Okay.” I turned to the right and started walking.

The peanut gallery started giggling after I’d taken three steps. I felt my cheeks heat and sweat build on my forehead. What could possibly be so funny about me walking?

“Goodness. That’s barbaric,” Gwendolyn said, clicking her tongue again. That sound was surely going to follow me into my nightmares. “Who would like to assist Miss Madeline? Yes, Miss Augustine?”

To my relief, she wasn’t smiling and laughing with the rest. “I-I believe it would be best if Miss Madeline didn’t allow her arms to swing.” She kept her tone soft and even. “Either keeping them to her sides or clasping them at her abdomen would be an improvement.”

Thanks, Augie. “Like this?” I lifted my hands and clasped them at my belly button like I’d watched some of the other girls do before.

“Yes! Much better!” Augie cheered.

I kept my hands in place and walked another four steps. More giggling. Jesus Christ, it was just walking.

“Miss Veronica? Would you be so kind?”

“It would seem Miss Madeline has never walked correctly in her life,” a prissy catgirl with black hair and her nose in the clouds laughed.

“An astute observation, but not a helpful one. We are looking to assist her, please.” I heard the amusement in Gwendolyn’s voice, and it made me want to scream.

“Of course, my sincerest apologies.” Veronica licked her lips. “Your feet are too wide apart. As you step forward, your knees should barely brush together. And you walk at a diagonal, like an inebriated San Island girl.”

I waited for Gwendolyn to step in when the class burst out laughing, but it never came.

“Your shoulders are slumped, your torso faces the ground, and your chin is tucked into your chest,” Veronica continued. “Are you truly a proud lady of Shi Island? My mother would have thrown me to the waves if I left the house with such a shameful display.”

“Now, Veronica, Miss Madeline is from Sorentina. We must be patient with those not born into Venicia’s grace,” Gwendolyn said.

My nails bit into my hands as my grip tightened over my stomach. If it wasn’t a shot at me, it was a shot at the place I’d supposedly come from. I spun around, straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin, and strolled forward, keeping my steps closer together.

Snap!

The left strap holding up my stocking broke free, and the stocking rolled down to my knee with my next step.

“She can’t even dress herself!” a new banshee in the peanut gallery cried.

Augie stood and crossed the room with all the grace and poise the rest of them expected of me. She knelt at my foot and lifted my skirts without a word before pulling the stocking back up my thigh and hooking the strap through the tiny slot.

The tension in my shoulders eased, and the last of the giggles died out.

Augie rose to her feet, straightened her skirts, and glared at her classmates. “Service, grace, and urgency should be exercised at all times. Assisting others is no exception.” She shot a dark glare at Gwendolyn, then returned to her seat.

An awkward silence fell over the room. I wanted to hoist up Augie Lion King-style and announce her glory to the world. What a hero.

“Yes, very good, Miss Augustine. A lesson we would all be wise to remember.” Gwendolyn’s words were supportive, but her expression said that another kid just took away her favorite toy. Good. “Why don’t we all review another key component together? Food presentation.” When no one moved, she shooed us away with her gloved hands. “Go choose your tables. Do not delay.”

Augie took me by the arm before I could suggest the same and guided me to one of the tables not occupied by the other girls. As soon as we were out of earshot of everyone else, she dropped her voice to a whisper and said, “Please don’t mind them, Madeline. They’ve never had to struggle for anything in their lives.”

I blinked. That was a surprisingly dark comment for cute little Augie. “Have you?”

“Yes.” She glanced over her shoulder and forced the smile back to her face. Her ears stayed standing. “I’m from Anyona. It was very difficult to travel here safely.”

“Why?”

She stared up at me with wide eyes, and her smile faltered. “Surely you saw the Defiled in your travels from Sorentina?”

The…what? “I—”

“Miss Madeline? Miss Augustine? Are you paying attention?” Gwendolyn called.

“Yes, Mistress Gwendolyn! We are setting the table for morning breakfast!” Augie replied as she shuffled the utensils around the plate.

“Ah, very good.” Gwendolyn’s disappointment grew more evident on her face. Augie really was a star student. I could see why Celestia liked her so much.

“We’ll talk later,” Augie murmured. “Now, watch. The plate must be this far from the edge of the table. Look, you can use your thumb.” She pressed the tip of her thumb to the plate and adjusted the distance so that her knuckle aligned with the table’s edge.

“She measures this?” I murmured.

“Yes. Every time.” Augie straightened and touched the back of the chair. “Next, ensure that the plate lines up straight and center to the chair, like this.”

Augie laid down two knives, a spoon, a fork, and then a second plate. All perfectly measured and aligned with one another. The napkins had to be folded a certain way, the glasses had to be held a certain way—by the stem, Madeline!—and the condiments needed their serving spoons to face in specified directions. It was all so much to remember.

Two classes in, and I was exhausted.

Too bad I had two more to go.