NTR: Stealing wives in Another World-Chapter 17: Forbidden fabric

The morning after the Great Moanening™, Allen woke up with his face still buried between two extremely smug Fina boobs.

"Mmmmph—"

Fina stretched and yawned, giving zero consideration to the man trapped in her cleavage. "Mornin', sunshine~"

He peeled his head up like a man emerging from a very soft coma. "Did we survive last night? I swear I heard someone climax so hard they fainted into the cooking pot."

Fina smirked. "Zena. She's fine. Smells like soup now, though."

Allen rubbed his eyes, then paused. "Wait. What day is it?"

Fina rolled on top of him, pinning him down like a horny weighted blanket. "It's Trade Day Eve."

Allen blinked. "The what now?"

She propped herself up and booped his nose. "Tomorrow's the monthly trip to the human town. You, me, and some of the hunters are gonna go sell all the goods—pelts, herbs, bones, beaks, mana crystals, the usual."

He sat up, suddenly remembering what "human town" meant. "Right. The racist nudist capital of the world."

Fina gave a sour snort. "Mmmhmm. Bunch of uptight humans decided beastkin shouldn't wear clothes in their cities. 'Preserve the natural aesthetic,' they said. 'Keep the savage charm.' Pfft."

Allen facepalmed. "Because forcing a whole species to wear nothing but 'savage charm' is totally normal. Totally not colonialist furry cosplay."

Fina flopped onto a nearby pile of furs and dug into a small chest. "Anyway, I got my outfit ready."

He turned.

Paused.

Stared.

"...That's not an outfit. That's a sneeze away from full frontal."

Fina held it up with a proud grin.

It was a skirt—if you could call it that. Just a string lined with two giant feathers up front, and a few smaller ones at the back for flair. Definitely didn't cover anything useful.

"This," she announced, "is the Official Town-Approved Trade Attire for beastkin women. See? Two feathers for decency, and the rest for looking exotic."

Allen's soul left his body. "That's not exotic. That's strip club meets bird cosplay."

She twirled it around a clawed finger. "Well, either I wear this, or the guards fine us for 'cultural disobedience.'"

Allen groaned. "How are humans the dominant race again when they're this horny and this racist?"

Fina tossed him a bundle. "You don't have it bad. Human males get to wear normal stuff. Tunics, pants, whatever. You're the only one not having your butthole wind-kissed."

Allen clutched the bundle to his chest like a holy relic. "God bless fabric."

Fina wiggled her hips and smirked. "Still jealous though?"

He looked at her, feathers barely clinging to dignity, boobs clearly plotting to escape at any moment.

"...Yes. But also concerned. What if I trip and fall and accidentally faceplant into someone's bird-bikini?"

She grinned. "Then they'll probably say thank you."

Allen rubbed his temples. "I'm not ready for this town. I barely survived hygiene school."

Fina sauntered over and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Just stick with me, trade the goods, don't start any cultural fights, and maybe don't drool when you see the other girls in matching ass-feather gear."

Allen raised a brow. "Wait. They all have to wear this?"

Fina nodded. "Yup. Town rules. And you're gonna be the only guy with enough functioning brain cells to know how to make eye contact instead of coochie contact."

He sighed, defeated. "Cool. A parade of tits, feathers, and awkward erections. Just another day in magical fantasy hell."

Fina patted his butt. "C'mon. Help me sort the goods. And tonight, we sleep early. Gotta look fresh when we're selling chicken bones to humans like they're rare fossils."

Allen mumbled as he followed her out the hut, "I swear, if one more human calls you a 'tribal delicacy,' I'm feeding them their own sandals..."

The sun hadn't even fully risen yet, and Allen was already wondering if traveling with a cart full of bones, beaks, herbs, and barely-dressed beastkin was a death wish waiting to happen.

The village was buzzing—hunters loading crates, younglings chasing each other around the carts, and elders giving everyone Very Serious Nods as if this trade run was some grand diplomatic mission instead of what it actually was: a bunch of beastkin getting scammed at the human market and pretending it was fair trade.

Fina, meanwhile, was checking her skirt-string for the fifth time, tugging it tight around her hips. The feathers swayed with every movement, annoyingly elegant for something that was basically fancy underwear with ambitions.

"You sure this won't, like... fall off if the wind sneezes?" Allen asked.

Fina shot him a look. "It's tied. It'll hold. Probably."

Allen didn't feel reassured.

The group heading out was a decent squad: Fina, Mirka (still walking a bit funny after "practice sessions," not that anyone was talking about it), two older male hunters with grumpy faces and massive sacks of bird beaks, and a young catboy named Rilo who had never been outside the village and was vibrating with excitement.

"This is gonna be awesome!" Rilo squeaked, gripping a bundle of shiny mana crystals like they were treasure.

Allen patted his shoulder. "Just don't let anyone trade you three socks for those, okay? Humans are sneaky."

The path to the human town wasn't long, just annoying. It twisted through thick forest, dipped into a muddy patch Allen was positive used to be a road, and eventually opened into a cobbled trade route that smelled like cart poop and bad decisions.

By the time they arrived at the town gates, the guards were already sneering.

"Beastkin caravan," one said, voice dripping with the usual "I hate my job" energy.

The other didn't even try to hide the judgment in his eyes. "Hmph. At least they followed the dress code."

Allen stepped forward, trying to be diplomatic. "We've got approved trade goods: herbs, bones, monster bits, and minor crystals. Nothing illegal, nothing enchanted. All good."

The first guard squinted at the crates. "You're the translator?"

"I'm the one who won't punch you if you keep your eyes up," Allen said with a smile that wasn't a smile.

After a tense pause and a thorough inspection that somehow managed to not open a single crate correctly, the guards finally waved them in.

"Welcome to Draventon. Behave."

Inside, the town was exactly as Allen remembered: too loud, too crowded, and absolutely jam-packed with shady stalls, overpriced apple tarts, and humans who stared like they'd never seen a tail before.

Fina sighed. "Here we go."

They parked near the market square and started unloading.

Allen helped Mirka set up the bone display—neatly arranged piles sorted by size, species, and shininess. Meanwhile, Fina was explaining prices to Rilo and absolutely destroying a nearby merchant in haggling.

"I said thirty per beak, not thirteen. You think I don't know math because I have ears?"

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Allen grinned. Fina was in full business mode.

And yet, everywhere he looked, the humans kept whispering.

Not to the beastkin, not even behind hands—just staring, murmuring, judging. Like this was some sort of exhibit instead of a market.

One man even had the gall to point at Fina and mutter, "Such a shame... they'd look civilized if they wore proper clothes."

Allen didn't say anything.

But he did very calmly pick up a beak the size of a steak knife and begin polishing it while staring at the man without blinking.

The man left.

By midday, the group had sold half their goods. Rilo was beaming, Mirka was arguing with a merchant over the difference between "wolf bones" and "wolf-adjacent bones," and Fina had somehow gotten a human to buy a bag of grass by calling it "natural bedding for mana-enhancing dreams."

Allen leaned on a crate, sipping weird berry tea, and muttered to himself, "They might be mostly naked, but they're wiping the floor with these guys."

Fina sat next to him, feathers ruffling in the breeze. "Tired?"

"More like... culture shocked. Again."

She bumped her shoulder into his. "You get used to it. Kinda. Maybe."

Allen smirked. "You just like yelling at humans."

"Correct."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the market bustle around them.

Then Rilo sprinted over. "I traded two mana crystals for a hat!" he cried, holding up a bent tricorn that looked like it had been sat on by a horse.

Allen covered his face. "...We'll work on that."