Formin had known that getting involved with witches would be difficult. He hadn't realized it would involve so much scrubbing as well.
The apprentice sorcerer sighed, setting the cauldron on its side to join over a dozen other pieces of crockery. Nearly piled to the curving ceiling, he was getting close to finishing the washing. He looked at it forlornly. When he was recruited by the local village coven, he'd anticipated more... well, magic and whatnot. Whatnot like dancing naked around the fires. Laying with demons. Cursing people you didn't like. But it turned out that most sorcery involved dispensing medicines and herbs to local village women, occasional midwifery, and the odd afternoon in the forests resetting the wards.
But there were so many chores to be done.
To be fair, he understood. There were three witches in the house. And there was plenty of naked fun being had. But three young women of a sorcerous bend didn't exactly lend themselves well to proper housekeeping. Formin half expected the reason the coven had taken him on was to get a servant. Gods knew he hadn't learned much magic in his two-week apprenticeship, despite there being three witches to learn from.
"Mmmm... Formin?"
Formin stopped scrubbing a particularly stubborn pot and turned his head. Speak of the devil.
Lucrecia sagged against the doorframe to the kitchen, the witch impossibly buxom and 'sky clad' as she liked to term it. Only her long hair covered her, and it was woefully inadequate. Skin pale as cream, she could rival a holstaur in her bustiness, her breasts near as big as Formin's head, her hips wide as a goblin brood maid's. Her hair hung in long braids, woven with flowers, her face sleepy. Into the poppy juice, if Formin was to judge.
Formin swallowed hard. Despite his time here, he still wasn't used to such shameless nakedness. "Y-yes, mistress?"
Lucrecia's arm climbed higher up the doorframe, her body stretching further against it, her hip rubbing against the smooth, hard wood. "Mmm. I like that," she murmured.
"Sorry?"
"Got a job for... you..." the witch said. "Need some help in my chambers. A spell..."
"Oh, I ah... I still have some of the dishes to do," he said.
"Mmm. Okay. When... you're done..."
"Of course."
With another lazy smile she pulled herself away from the doorway, turning, her ass hinted through peeks of her hair as her hips swung with every step.
Formin took a deep breath, shook his head, tried to ignore the sudden tightness in his pants, and returned to his work. He wondered what she needed? Lucrecia rarely asked for his assistance. To be fair, she was rarely around. She was the chosen midwife of the village, and was often running about or mixing potions. Actually, now that he thought about it, she'd been very busy of late. And not just with delivering babies. It seemed to him she'd been giving out a lot more herbs to wives and girlfriends than usual.
Peculiar, he mused as his hands dove into the soapy water. What could it be?
Arms suddenly looped around his neck. Formin stiffened as he felt a soft body press against his back, lips near his ear say, "Hey pet."
Formin twisted his head around, already knowing what he'd find. Dark hair swept back by golden combs, an impish face with teasing eyes and a pair of twitching black cat ears.
"N-Nadia!"
The witch giggled, kissed his cheek and pulled back, her gypsy gown loose around her modest frame, golden necklaces hanging around her neck, rings on her fingers that clicked and rang like little bells whenever the catgirl moved. She stood arrogantly before him, her eyes bright and mischievous, as much an opposite of Lucrecia as could be, which is likely why the pair rarely got along. She often told fortunes in the village, predicting harvests, menaces, and selling charms to those who wanted them.
"I need a hand with something, pet," the catgirl said. "Got a special job for you. You're free, right?"
"I uh, I'm actually in the middle of something. And afterwards I have to-"
"Great! See you soon," Nadia giggled, turning with a swish of skirts and her flicking tail to dance out of the room, her rings chiming and necklaces swinging.
Formin sighed, and turned back to the dishes. Nadia rarely listened to him, dragging him along to town when she needed him. Having him amuse her, compliment her, praise her. She was a handful, but it was impossible to be mad at her. Though it was a little degrading to be on the receiving end of her amusements.
And now she wanted to see him in her room. Was it to clean the place? Formin winced. He'd seen the inside of her room once or twice. It was like a tornado had ripped through at the best of times.
Sighing, he put the last of the dishes away and dried his hands. Well, he'd best get to it. Draping the towel back over the rack, Formin left the kitchen, the living room of the large house basking in the sunlight through the rounded windows. Clutter crowded the place, along with castoff clothes, books, and herbs hung up to dry. Formin sighed, shoulders stooping. At this rate, he'd never have time to learn magic. Was he an apprentice or a maid? Shaking his head, he moved towards the stairs.
"Apprentice..."
Formin froze at that sibilant whisper. His breath hitched and he slowly turned his head.
There was only one bedroom on the ground floor, owing to its owner disliking the stairs. The door was open now, the darkness within faintly lit with the glow of a lamp. Too little to see anything but the pale gleam of copper.
Copper that shifted.
"M-miss Jadis?" Formin stammered.
"Come here," the sibilant voice purred.
Formin felt his legs move towards the room before he could really process it. Not that it really mattered. A command from the den mother had to be obeyed. It was she who had recruited Formin to the coven as an apprentice, and just the thought of the powerful sorceress made his face warm.
Into the cool gloom of the room he walked. Soft rugs shuffed under his feet. Drawn curtains didn't let in even a gleam of light. Dribbly candles had been lit near an altar in the corner, framing a massive mirror of buffed bronze. Yet this was not the metallic gleam that had caught his eye. That belonged to the serpentine coils which shifted atop a large couch.
Jadis was a lamia. A creature rare and moody, rarely concerning itself with the outside world. Formin suspected half the reason Jadis tolerated her two fellow witches was that they did all the public facing work, leaving her to brood and cast her sorcery in solitude. Formin often saw her, usually while delivering her meals or components for spells. Or books. Jadis was constantly ordering books from town and abroad, and Formin was often sent by her to the market and peddlers in order to acquire any interesting volumes they had. The results were all around him. Books piled in erratic towers or heaped in corners. The air had the dry smell of old paper and strange, exotic spices that Formin now associated with the lamia herself. They made his head ache, the fumes of burning incense coiling in the air, twisting like ribbons of scent and smoke.
