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Matte Lustre by aFilthySmutWriter Septia

Matte Lustre

Matte Lustre

Written by Septia.

“How is the second batch coming along, Cofn?”
She blinked, looking between the ingredients laid out on the counter, and the rank of bowls to the side. A deep breath. She hoisted up a duster of fennel and spiced up the dough. “Smooth and swot, you have meloc for batch 3, Ivan?” she called back to the chef.
“Just gimme another minute and I'll have it ready, you could pick out some green herbs for me? I'll need them for the gratin.”
“Ja, o-off course.” Cofn responded. The oventaur breathed out a sigh of relief. Her hands went back to the dough, kneading in the spices whilst eyeing the ingredients needed for the next bath of bread, picking down the herbs from the cabinets with one hand as she twisted the final touches to the batter. It was a busy wednesday morning, one of which she hadn't experienced for a good while now. And whilst the kitchen was far from familiar to her yet, the recipes and cooking were. Working so close with another person was all so… invigorating. Ivan chatted only casually, but he was a determined lizard and a dedicated chef. A sense of rhythm had begun to take shape over the past few days, and between them, even if her washed arms still shook now and then. She hoisted up the dough, opened her feed hatch, and let the plush, lagom sticky batter slough from the wide bowl, plunging into the tyflon bunched depths of her core, -Spflbfhtpthts- smushed in warm lissom kneads as it funnelled towards brewing and baking into a fresh morning loaf. It was a relief to be baking again. Staring down as the hatch enveloped the pale, fennel sprinkled dough, moulding as molten silk and maintaining a steady pressure, to make it just right…this place deserved nothing less than her best, after all.
“Cofn? Buddy?”
She snapped rugged back to the kitchen, winking the dreaming trance out of her eyes. “O, C-coming right away,” she assured, and swept up the spices, turning to spring forth and deliver them right to…
-Sppthfllooglgsh- The sound of plush batter, penetrated and displaced in a surge of fluffy clay, the puttering crinkle of dough pressured and plastering to the sides to polish the edges of her polymer innards… the spices fell from her grasp, hitting the ground together with the bowl of yeast starter and milk Ivan had carried, scattering the floor in a drizzle of liquid and a hail of herbs. Cofn was afraid to look down… when she did, she saw the lizard, head and shoulders plunged into her open hatch, swamped in dunes of bread clay burgeoning out the brim of her hatch, and framing him in a collar of dough gumming him in place.
“Oh deora…,” Cofn whispered.
“Fmdmfpfhsm, fmmpwdhhfmwfps,” Ivan groaned out, muffled in the the smooth embrace, his wiggles echoing through Cofn's frame, and she found her cast iron body bending and following the sways of the lizard's struggles. -Fhglrlpghshth- Their oven tugged inwards -Sfhglpplghs- reeling in the dunes of dough swelling past her hatch, and hoisting the lizard chef along with it.
“D-deora me, deora me,” Cofn stammered and stumbled backwards, slumping onto the floor -Slfpthhgs- which flung the chef another stretch into the gape of her perpetually bloated abdomen, -Sfhpgbglprwht-. “Hwy? Hwy nao?” she lamented and knocked on her core. “Halleo? Ivan? Ok in there?” She asked.
“Fmwmpghg, dmwpghghs,” came a muffled response, ringing stuffy with their face subsumed by the batter. “Even rustig ofn, bews foda,” Cofn assured herself.
Cofn's spin draft flared, and she fumbled to reach below her gut to close the valve, she couldn't handle this embarrassment right now.
“S-such, a big deora…” she mumbled to herself.
A shudder ran down her frame as she realised Ivan had heard that, even the fact she had said it. But, it was true. The Lizard was shorter than her, – enough so that when he ran and ducked his head down in that cute manner, it was precisely in line with her hatch. – but he was large for a lizard, bulky limbs, stodgy center, there was a lot of mass padded underneath those scales: she was made even more aware of it by how the sense… the feeling of him stuffing out her abdomen, of her pillowy polymer insides moulding and confining his form, caking his frame with a spackled cocoon of dough… Her hand, lingered at the spin draft below her gut… -Slpfhhddwmtps- He had already sunken up to the next tug reeled the lizard up to his hips, all of the dough displaced by his entrance heaved back into the folds of her abdomen, smothering the flailing chef, dough deluging along the gap and gumming up the fractures between his scales. Perhaps… Cofn trembled; her stomach's aching desires to bake again, to macerate any fodder jammed past its gate and refine it to a pristine, fat loaf of bread, pealed through her alloy. It was almost done devouring him… Then, immersed in her core, Ivan kept his spirits going, and slammed with all the might he could muster…
-Kdnnngnnkdt- The iron rung, the vibrating rupture of a grand bell resonating with the kitchen atmosphere of spilled milk and flour dust.
Cofn gasped for breath, winking disbelief and worry from her senses. One hand grasped Ivan's tail, the other his ankle, and held him tight.
“Kamyn,” she called out, “,come nao.”
-Kkdwmwpths- The door diverted, as if shaken aside by the grand beetle's presence. Kamyn surveyed the kitchen, and with two knuckles on her hips shook her head. “Tsk tsk, Sometimes I wonder if there is any real way to separate you two,” she jested, sauntering up to Cofn's side and kneeling to be at the level of the slumped oventuar.”
“’T gryre accident, giefan-.”
“Shfhhhs, deep breaths, big iron, I know you didn't mean it,” Kamyn said, keeping her tone melodic and level as she grasped Cofn's shoulders with two hands, and Ivan's legs with the others. “Can't have Ivan cooped up in there all morning, He barely pulls his weight as it is~”
“Fwmmfpghsms,” he grumbled in defiance, to which Kamyn tickled under his tail.
“It was not, it is not deora's fault…”
“We can all be a bit clumsy, what happen'd happened. Just focus on the now, big gal, ease up… come now… ” Kamyn hummed, gently tugging back on her chef whilst brushing down Cofn's side, -Shfhlt- -Fhrlththss- the light crinkle of doughy webbing drawn back inwards. -Sflprrhhfs- As Ivan was drawn outwards the dough peeled off his scales, stretching in tethers of batter that snapped back or clung in patches to his dermis. The dough blooming outwards in petals with an imprint of Ivan's scale pattern tessellating its surface, billowing out and upwards smoothly as the lizards' torso was hauled free…
“Phhaahuaaah,” he gasped for breath as his head uncorked, the dough jutting out where his head laid embedded, forming a bud in the doughy flower slobbered out of Cofn's hatch along with the chef.
“Ha… pha…haaoo,” Cofn huffed, her exhaust puffing pale clouds of smog at her back, scented of cornmeal and fennel. She looked down at Ivan, who was picking stray bits of batter off of his apron.
“Apologies, deora ivan, you are not foda.”
“I hey, hey, Cofn, don't mention it? I know I gotta watch out too, but ah, don't be afraid to ask Kamyn for help earlier next time, ‘kay? You had me pretty far in this time…”
Cofn tapped her fingertips together, “Apologies…”
-Chdnnng- Kamyn smacked Cofn's back approvingly.
“There you go, all's well, but, you two should focus on getting today's batches done, any more escapades and we'll be up to our bellies in starving patrons” Kamyn said and folded over a slough of dough back into Cofn's hatch -Slfpbththhts-. After which Cofn quickly gathered herself and folded over the droves to cram the back into her oven -Slflpthhts- -Clgthpghs- -Cltch- and lock the latch in place.
“Keep up the good work,” Kamyn winked, then leaned in to whisper,” I know he's tasty already, don't need to bake him up~”
Cofn shuddered, and hoisted herself up, with supporting herself on Kamyn. “Understood. Appreciated. More brod coming.”
“That's what I like to hear,” Kamyn said, turning around just as she was about to leave, and whispered “Just don't go around announcing this batch's flavoured with such a tasty lizard cutie, it will be our little secret ingredient.” And with that, left the two of them be.
-Ghbr- -Cbggsn- Cofn's gut rustled. It felt a touch empty… She peeked to the counter. Though there was more dough that would fill that up.”

~ 1 ~

“How's those buns coming along?”
Cofn looked up to Ivan, still with a few splotches of batter at the base of his tail, – and laid down the line of trays.
“Brod batch baked and fol,” she chimed back, lowering herself towards the plates and letting out a -Fpfhooowf- her exhaust vents unleashing a billow of beige smog, spreading an aroma of toast through the bakery. -Sprlflsth- Cofn's rear slot quivered, gradually spreading with a smear of sunflower oil, the tyflon surface bending to sculpt around the oncoming batch as if the metal was not but cotton. -Sfmdddnwnff- Gradually, the buns encroaching the hatch spread to unveil a patch of sun streaked crust, prying apart along the sides of the loaves's end as it crept free of from the oven.
Cofn caught herself sighing, kneeling so the tip of the confectionery length would dip only as much as to meet the tray beneath, the still malleable loaf , sloughing onto the prepared surface -Slfmmddwmpths- with a thud from the well baked bottom, the rest of the loaf funnelling through her hatch jostling to the impact.
“Haa, smooth nao, careful,” she huffed and scampered forwards, -SchFthfllpsfhshths- allowing the length of the bowl baked loaf to well forth – its apparent consistency of mortar solidifying in the open air, so as she came to the end of the loaf, its tip gave of a -Crskts- faint crumble of a pristine crust.
“Mmf, and so.” -DmmSlfpthhts- the hatch folded closed. -Dmmpftwhos- and the end of the loaf slapped into the baking paper below. The plush hill of bread budding up to the edges of the tray, filling out the whole rectangle in its bulk and with its tip spilling over the edges.
“Cofn, Cofn, Cofn,” Kamyn said, peeking in through the door and clicking with her mandibles, “There's no need to impress, we need some portion-sized buns more than we need huge slabs, as fine looking as they are.”
“Of course,” Cofn responded and shifted back to the other trays, wiggling her torso with a -Cfnghs- -Cffllnghs- rumble echoing within.
-Ckflrplstsha- her tyflon buns parted, and through it budded and bloomed a drove of bun-baked amber, bloating to the girth of a fist before -Pflstoohst- the hatched pinched it free, and let it -Dmpghts- drop with a jiggle and bounce to the tray.
“Mphaa…” Cofn sighed, her oven hatch divulging bun after bun to wiggle their way through, -Dmfns- -Dmfpfhs- bouncing off one another in a collapsing hillock of fresh, steaming bread dough, fluffy buns. The gradual onslaught of fluff immersing the tray, as she edged backwards to let the breadfall grace the final platter as well.
“That's the juice. That's why I never doubt my favorite one, that's enough brod to feed each and every-,” she stopped herself, antenna bobbing as she caught herself, and chuckled. “Even started talking like you, keep up the good work, Cofn.” Kamyn encouraged, and slipped back, “and we'll decorate the storefront with them when you are ready.”
Cofn smiled, “Brod enough to foda all deoras,” She mused to herself, -Fpsboofhs- and her vents spread a mellow aroma of fragrant herbs and sea salt throughout the kitchen.
“Sure that'll suffice?”
“Suffices well, appreciated, Kamyn.”
“I'll furnish it further come next week, have to shop some more essentials either way, rest up.”
“Goodnight,” Cofn offered, as she headed down from the kitchen into the cellar. It was outfitted with a pair of shelves, to which her luggage filled one. A table, and a mattress with an array of pillows. The cool earth beneath her cast-iron paws was a comfortable retreat from the day's hard flooring. Allowing her to sink down, and her weight to displace enough earth to bounce back and prop her up, fully supporting her bulk. There was still an air of fennel from the kitchen. She looked at the bed, (contemplated), but then headed forwards, up the stairs, and opened the door out to the open field. She gazed down the open fields, a starlit sky grazing the wind blown grass in a silver sheen, stream weaving through the landscape with glittering faucets of liquid diamonds. The oven took in the clean air, let the night breeze swirl around her, and savour that sense of… serenity.
“Even, a rustig ofn, brews brod.” she hummed. “But, I do not feel so gesotig, anymore.”
She stood there, admiring the landscape. She had to improve, but perhaps, just perhaps, she could do it. Soon, she would head back inside, and eventually… wake up to a thursday.

Matte Lustre

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: "Just let me know if you need something, deal?" -Kamyn)

(Quick guide:

Working together, slip up, accidental vore, distress, calling for aid.

After 1st: Settling in, taking a moment to breathe, serenity. )


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.)

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[Story preview:

“Ja, o-off course.” Cofn responded. The oventaur breathed out a sigh of relief. Her hands went back to the dough, kneading in the spices whilst eyeing the ingredients needed for the next bath of bread, picking down the herbs from the cabinets with one hand as she twisted the final touches to the batter.

Continued in the story above.]