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Matte Kindle by aFilthySmutWriter Septia

Matte Kindle

Matte Kindle

Written by Septia.

-Twwwhoooooooft- The roar of a steam engine bellowed as the very air rippled in its wake. The chime roused Cofn's pyre, the oventaur blinking back into consciousness, waking to the cold of the street corner at her back. To the bustle of travellers flooding the streets to depart from, or with one of the trains.
“Good morning,” Cofn whispered to herself, shifting up from her packing; the culmination of what she could bring from her bakery, reduced to a pillow she'd sprawled over throughout the night. She tried to make out the clock strung up on a pole at the threshold between city and train station. It didn't matter, much. When she had nowhere to be, every day defaulted to wednesday. Today was yet another in a string of wednesdays. Cofn sighed, a huff of grey smog pluming through her pipes, and slumped back onto her baggage. Perhaps she should go back to sleep? She had time enough to afford missing a wednesday.
-Pwwncliing- A ring of metal sprung through the air, and landed with a clatter on the worn cobble before Cofn.
“Oh?” she mumbled, and reached down, fumbling until she got a grasp of the token. A coin. A silver coin with a funny face, smiling at her. Although, it could not be silver, seeing the rust swelling up in a splotch of ochre there were bends in the corner, and a film of black gathering in the narrows between metal and rust. Cofn turned the coin, over, again, and again. “Rustig… gryre,” she mumbled, dirty, and rusty, perhaps that was why its owner had such little reservations in parting with it. After staring into the coin's tattered grin, the oventaur unlatched her chest chamber, and tucked it away. It landed with a -Drnkllrt- reverberation of cast iron, which rung hollow… Taking in a deep breath, Cofn rose.

~ 1 ~

Lagreroff was a busy city of commuters, that much she had observed over the many wednesdays spent around its platforms. The city boasted, in wide banners, about all the places you could reachfor, and how few exchanges you'd have to make in getting there. Another railway which stretched to and through other countries and towns, all for a reasonable fare. Yet, there was sparse less, about Lagreroff itself, or any reason that someone would be to stay here. Cofn wandered in the bustle between platforms, despite her stature as a three legged cast-iron stove, there was a multitude of passengers which she could blend in beside. Another in the swarm of vagabonds. One who never took a train. She wasn't the only one. There were a few other ghasts haunting the platforms: a jellyfish in a suit, an imp in a ragged poncho, and a human who always sat down on the same bench.
“Somewhere you want to travel? You want to travel?” she had tried to ask the human, once. But the stare they had returned… She kept her distance as she wandered down the platforms, striding off to the outskirts of the shipping bay.
“Ey, move your tail. That cart's gotta connect to the 2-1-b12, leaving in 15. That’s 15, move it.”
Cofn peeked up as the chief crustacean barked orders to the canines and wagon-rats loading cargo. One who hefted crate after crate onto the open wagon, though the mountain of cargo they were running to and fro, seemed never to decrease. Cofn moseyed over, inspecting the boxes. They were of similar dimension to the fodder shipments she'd order. Though, to think someone so small was having to carry all this. Maybe it wasn't s as heavy as it looked? She reached out, and lifted a crate, there was some heft to it, but nothing serious.
Cofn quivered through her core to her hair, upturning to look down at the wagon-rat, who, actually, was a rat. She was huffing, sweaty, and glaring at the crate.
“Whadda ya think you are doing with that?”
“Aa,” she mouthed, looking between the crate and crew member, “the, batch, goes here, so?” she said whilst scuttling along the ground, and stacking the crate onto the train in line with the others. “So?”
The rat cocked her head. “Yeah… you offerin' to help out?”
Cofn looked at the pile, and the other wagon rats packing the carts. “J-ja.”
“Huh, sweet, then gat those legs rolling,” she invited, sprinting back to pick up another to continue transporting the cargo.
Cofn smiled a touch. “Swot.”

Cofn was outclassed in speed, though she reliably carried two crates per trip, and together, the heap of crates gradually diminished, until they slotted in the last box together.
“Phew… hew, Ha, made it with time ta spare. Thanks, big iron.”
Cofn shook a bit, smiling to the wagon-rat. “W-was happy in heolfing You worked smooth, a fast deora.” Cofn commented, but then spying the crustacean returning, heading their way. She instinctively stepped back. -Chhrfckgrlrlnngrlgksssth- The fracture when her rear leg punctured a crate etched into her core. Both her spin draft hatches flaring up with embarrassment. She had no clue what had been in the crate, but… the crumble sounded expensive…
“Who is that? What is it doing there?” the chief called out.
She raised her leg from the crate, to another crunch, and held her arms together.
“Boss, she didn't- I'm sure she didn't Mean it, Big iron here helped me out with-.”
“I saw, but sorries don't pay for squandered resources, or unsolicited labour.”
Their words speared through Cofn's core…At once her memories of the bakery flooded back, the stacks of dodgy paperwork, unregistered workers, and… accidents… She was given ample time to relive those memories, as she was separated, for questioning.

~ 2 ~

It seemed wherever she went, trouble was following, just behind a corner… watching her every move… She was let off with a warning. Paying the little restitution she was able, and released. She was let off light, though the warderns knew to look for her. She'd made her face known, and lingering at the platform was no longer an option. She sauntered back into the streets, as she flumped down against the side of the street, her packaging unloaded by her side as she let out a long sigh through her exhaust vents.

“’Scuse me, I was just bout to set up my stand.”
Cofn shuddered, looking up at the old lizard connecting metal rods to form a table.
“O-oh, gryre apologies.” She excused herself, watching as the lizard fiddled with the beams, and fittings, shaking hands prolonging this process, as the crowds passed by ahead.
“Would, you accept helf?”
“Ey?, Oh, its no bother.”
“Please,” Cofn pleaded, and picked up a few beams, looking over the construction of other booths along the road,stands, she began to fit them together. The old lizard shook his head with a smile.

With the stand nearly complete, the lizard begun to heave up crates of nuts and raisins on display, along with a handful of bread buns to frame the display.
Cofn eyed the bread, the fluffy consistency, and smoothly browned exterior… They looked adorable. And she had nothing to do with them.
-Lkgrghth- a clatter of metal burst forth as she dropped the final beam.
“What in the sky's name?”
“Appologies, swoot apologies it-.” -Crghhtrl- it rolled under her sole, and flinging her off balance, tumbling into the crowd, she heard the -Clktsh- of her feed hatch unlatching…
-Dttwmpgbwttmspd- The ground shook. An outline of spectators formed around Cofn's body. Most kept moving, but some begun to whisper.
-Knnglgnl- A drum of cast-iron rung out, eeking through her core.
“Mmfwpfbg, Fmwpghhts.”
Cofn's eyes snapped open, and the ton worth of Cast iron heaved herself standing, to unveil a pair of legs flailing out in the brim of her hatch, submerged in the folding mounds of tyflon polymer… -Fhsllpfhths- and it was tugging them deeper…
“Rifo,” a rattled voice shrieked, “She's eating him.”
This, drew eyes. Cofn flicked her vision towards everyone around, more and more stopping to stare, and their voices was growing louder. -CHSfllpfths- -Rhtps-
“Mfmpwfggmpwh,” the squeel rung through her frame, emotions flaring up at her spin draft hatch, as she patted down her form trying to catch the legs.
“A-aap… j-just gesotig, i-deora -fine.”
“You let my Rifo go, you monster.” the parent spat out, and wrapped her arms around the wriggling legs. Batting away Cofn's hands when she tried to help.
Her hatch had them in a taut hold, -Shglpghgs- -Cpghrllspghs- the oven core of her body… longing to bake, this Rifo wasn't big, but it was enough fodder to bake a thick, fluffy batch of… -Slflpfthtwbtwhullp- she snapped out of it as her perpetually bloated belly gave in to the parental tugs, the two of them tumbling back into the crowd, the boy staring in disbelief, gasping feverishly for air.
“What do you think you are doing?”
“It… It… it hrifverc… did not mean to-.”
“Stay away,” they shrieked in response, clutching their child.
The constant screaming, whispering, and… stares, honing in on her… pushing her back to the wall, back in the corner, but this time, there was no escape from their judgement. There was no time to explain… It was just her… and the crowd.
“There you are.”
A hand landed on Cofn's shoulder, anchoring her senses.
“Having to cause a scene just to get my attention, now? Come on, have you not embarrassed me enough as it is?” The arm wrapped around her shoulders, and tugged her aside. “Come now”, they whispered, “eyes on my feet, then move them like mine.” They then called out. “There is nothing to see here folks, crisis averted, carry on with your errands, all got a schedule to keep, don't we?”
Cofn stared at the ground, watching her iron paws teetering along the ground, and two pairs of black, chitinous legs following beside, sinking in sturdy boots, kicking up dust over the cobble. It wasn't before they had ventured down a side street, that Cofn peered up, watching along to see that the jacket ensnared an onyx carapace. Eyes rising to the face of a grand beetle, guiding her steps.
“I've got you, just follow my lead, and don't stumble over my feet, I know you can handle that,” she said, and flashed Cofn a grin.

~ 3 ~

The beetle sat down opposite Cofn. “Do you eat?” she asked.
“Aah, halleo…? Hwy?”
“True, we've got some business matters to tend to, and we won' t be staying long,” the beetle said and whispered to the cafe waiter, “can of soda, and a cup of olive oil for my friend.”
“Hwy? A-appologies, who?” Cofn stammered.
“Kamyn,” the beetle said, reaching out a hand over the table, “and you?”
Cofn reached to shake, but then, “C-Cofn-.” but she was met with a second hand form the beetle, leaving her eyes darting between the two, stuck in an awkward loop questioning herself with which to shake.
“Aha, Cofn the oven,” Kamyn responded as she took a hold of Cofn's hand with all four of hers, giving it a sturdy shake, “happy to meet you, gotta say, you are the first creature I've seen on three legs who still manages to be that clumsy.”
“O-oh,” Cofn mumbled, “ja… just gesotig, rustig ofnes…”
“You could do with a polish, I'm not gonna deny that.” Their drinks were served, Kamyn cracking open the can, and chugging.
Cofn stared at the cup of oil. “Sorry… hwy help nao?”
Because it is miserable,” they snapped off, then scoffed, “shock it up to my – winning – people sense, but you don't look like you mean anyone harm. Which is a bit of a shame, if you were you'd be darn good at it.”
“Deora me…” Cofn mumbled. “It, happens, too much.”
“Yeah, going from crushing cargo to choking down children.”
“You saw?”
“I see a lot of things, but I've yet to see a gram of malice in you.”
Cofn looked way, “You… know not…”
Kamyn nodded. “If we start to talk about what I don't know, we'd be here all day. Instead, would you mind if I asked something I would like to know?”
Cofn didn't respond, but glanced up to meet their gaze.
“You ‘any good at baking?”

~ 4 ~

Following down a side path just on the outskirts of Lagreroff, down ways where the alley turned to a path following a stream. And where the well worn path ended, stood a cobble house, clad in a thatched roof, and connected to a watermill, steadily turning. ‘Kamyn's corner’, a sign presented with pride.
“Can't say it is much, but it has been holding up well.
Cofn's eyes darted around to the details of the rustic building, outfitted with an extra wide entrance, the black beetle flung open and strutted in through. It was just wide enough to accommodate Kamyn, and gave Cofn a bit of wiggle room.
“Its usually not this quiet, we've been dealing with some, structural constraints, taking the chance to remodel.
“You, make foda, here?”
Kamyn smiled and strutted through the wide spaced seated tables of the front, to the serving area, turning at the counter with their bulb bobbing behind them as they gestured to a second pair of doors. “Lemme show you the kitchen.”
Single row, compared to the bakery's two, but, ample space between, little carts on wheels dotting the kitchen for ease of transportation, cabinets emptied for cleaning, so rows and rows of ingredients, spices, and ten-kilo bags of flour lining the counters.
“As said, it is not a lot, but I could use some more muscle, and an extra oven on top of that, pure gravy.”
Cofn stopped wandering, and turned back to Kamyn. “You, Deora, hare…want t… this, gryre rustig ofnes, to bake foda?”
Kamyn held up her palms in defence. “It's an offer. Long as you can practice your balance, I'm sure you'd do fine, even if you are rubbish at baking, those fast-fleeres, uah… tourists, can barely tell quality from a moth eaten hat.”
Cofn turned back to the kitchen, mouth tightened to a line. Allowing herself a moment, to recall those, beautiful moments she'd had in their own bakery, cast-dough bakery.
And Kamyn snapped with two hands. “And, I'll sweeten the deal,” the massive beetle squeezed past the gargantuan oventaur, and unlocked a backdoor.
Through it, seemed to have once been a a natural pantry, a few steps leading down to a dug-out cellar. The ground, mushed plush under Cofn's steps.
“Ain't much, but its got a door out to the fields, geothermal heating,” this was said with a wink, “and a bit of furnishing close to the kitchen, with a bit more furnishing this could make a comfy hideaway.”
Cofn held over her chest. How long had it been since she stepped on anything softer than concrete or cobble? Or been worried that her weight would dent the wooden floorboards?
“Yeah, yeah, out with it, don't hold back on Kamyn now.”
“Cofn looked at the ground, lifted a paw, and saw dirt trickling down. “A Little, gestoig… is, good.” she said.
“Right? But if you do a good job, I'll make sure you are comfortable. So, what do you say?”
Cofn weaved her fingers together, and nodded.
“Excellente, Coffy,” Kamyn said and shook Cofn's shoulder. “Then lets make it official, just a little matter of the down payment, I'm still renting out part of the kitchen ah… the luxuriousy suite, to you.”
This strummed a chord of worry. Cofn looked through her luggage, though, after the recompence, she had even less to her name. She put down her purse, head slumped down. That's when she saw her chest… Opening the chamber, she felt around, and fished up… the coin. The one, rusted, worn coin… After hesitating, Cofn held it up. “Do… you accept, even gegesotig, and rustig?” she asked.
Kamyn stepped forwards, and clasped her hands around Cofn's and the coin. “Of course I do.”

Matte Kindle

aFilthySmutWriter Septia

After taking a job in a restaurant, Cofn gradually acclimates with her new position, though she remains accident prone, there is now someone around to give her a hand.

This is a story in the "Matte" Chronicle.
The Other Entries can be found in the Matte Chronicle hub
Matte Chronicle Hub.

Proofreader for this story was Dendollae, many thanks to them.

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(Character Quote: "Gesotig past, makes gryrig ofnes..." -Cofn)

(Quick guide:

Waking up on a wednesday.

After 1st: Seeking companions, finding a way to help, accidental ruination.

After 2nd: Being in the way, attempting to help, accidental vore, singled out.

After 3rd: An honest conversation.

After 4th: An opportunity, settling in. )


Cent: Short term for centimetre.
Deci: Short term for decimetre.
Chronicle: A series of stories connected but not sequential. Ongoing stories without regular updates. Rapacitor: A predator who eats for the sake of greed and gluttony.)

A sleek, pleasing, .docx version of this story can be downloaded by clicking this text.

New uploads every Friday.
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[Story preview:

“Good morning,” Cofn whispered to herself, shifting up from her packing; the culmination of what she could bring from her bakery, reduced to a pillow she'd sprawled over throughout the night. She tried to make out the clock strung up on a pole at the threshold between city and train station. It didn't matter, much. When she had nowhere to be, every day defaulted to wednesday. Today was yet another, in a string of wednesdays.

Continued in the story above.]