Chapter 1 - Donning the White

Clan Bastion were heroes. Everyone in Ivalice had heard of the famed and fated warriors who lead them, who had conquered great evils and achieved great victories. Against men or monsters alike they were an unstoppable force and implacable in their pursuit of justice. They helped the downtrodden, protected the weak, and stood aside those who had no one else to count upon. They were heroes of story and song, and in the dark places of the world, their work was never done. 

Maubrich was not one of those great heroes, nor was he technically even a member of Clan Bastion. His own clan, Clan Redoubt, had no great heroes or stunning tales. Their greatest claim was that, once or twice, members of their Clan had been allowed to step up into the ranks of Bastion. The rest of the time, Redoubt stuck to its founding purpose with little fanfare or applause.

Bastion couldn't be everywhere. Thirty men and women (and other races alike) were not an army, and they could not maintain peace across all of Ivalice. So they had founded more Clans to carry their banner, an alliance working together for a common goal, bound by common blood and honor more tightly than the usual Clan alliances. That was the theory, anyway. In practice, it seemed that Redoubt and the other subsidiary clans like them merely did the grunt work and sent on a portion of their spoils. Despite the supposed grandeur, it was not the kind of system that attracted the best and brightest. In fact, Redoubt could be described as 'unpolished' if you were feeling kind - and 'bottom of the barrel' if you weren't. Those with potential ended up in Clans that weren't glorified vassals, or started their own - and Redoubt accepted the rest.

Which was why Maubrich was sitting in a noisy, busy tavern as he read and reread the paperwork in front of him. Every now and then he'd grunt and lift an eyebrow, looking up to give his guest a bemused look, before returning to his reading. Sometimes he'd reach out and take a grip on his mug for a long pull of his drink as he wished he was either less sober or drunker for this. Healers were important to a Clan, they were the backbone of a team and were often the best equipped, trained, and protected members of the whole clan, no matter their race. Nu Mou were prized healers, and there wasn't a man alive who didn't watch wistfully when a Viera white mage swayed on by. And even humans were acceptable at it, if unremarkable. But…

Who had ever heard of a Moogle white mage? A hyperactive and scatterbrained little ball of fluff wasn't exactly what sprang into mind when you thought of a healer.

Sure, the young Moogle across from him, perched on a stool that kept her legs from touching the floor,  was dedicated to her craft. She'd spent years working in a mundane chemist's shop, learning the art of potions and healing salves. Spending long hours with whatever healers could spare her time. Her first Job had been Animist, learning to wield magick to heal sick or injured animals. She'd taken solo work to earn experience and learn her skills, and now she finally wore the iconic white and red robe. But it was also clear that she just wasn't any *good* at it. For all those years of experience, he'd had wet behind the ears nobodies that were better prospects, and her job completion rate was abysmal.

"A white mage." The hume said finally, looking up from the paperwork. "I mean, your magick is good enough that we'd take you as a black mage in a heartbeat, and I could even make it work if you wanted to leverage that Animist experience into becoming a Moogle Knight, but… white mage?"

"I have the experience for it," Mogaria said, trying to keep her voice calm. Oh, she wanted to twist her pom into knots from frustration, but she fought to keep her face and voice calm. Humes could be slow and lead-footed, but they were usually at least somewhat reasonable if you didn't get overexcited.

"I have plenty of magickal ability, and a decent skill set to back up my magickal healing. I even have some field experience, and most new recruits can't brag about that. I'd be an asset to any team you send out!"

"You're also a Moogle," the Maubrich grunted. He'd started drinking the moment they sat down, which Mogaria hadn’t taken as a good sign, and he hadn't let up in the time since. "And the last time you went out with a team of independents they came back looking like they'd been dragged through an Antlion nest.”

"But they went through a Malboro nest. And they all came back!" Mogaria squeaked, her face red. That had not been a good mission, and the walk back to town had been more than a little frosty.  "I'm good at it, and I found I have a knack for healing when I was working as an Animist. I just don't get why you're having so much trouble with this?"

"Because Moogles aren't White Mages, it just isn't something that happens - I've never seen it, and I've never even heard of it. So far as my people are concerned I'd be sending them out with…" he groped for a word even as he groped for his mug, lifting it to his unshaven face. "With an experiment."

"So?"

"So they ain't gonna trust ya," the man grunted. "They ain't gonna think they're safe in your hands, and that's gonna hurt morale. And it'll hurt even worse if they hear about how many missions you've failed."

"More than having no healer at all?"

"A man at least knows he can trust potions."

"Listen, sir-"

"Maubrich," the Redoubt representative grunted. "None of that 'sir' shit. I've been drunk too many years to be a 'sir'."

"Fine." Mogaria leaned forward, planting her small, furred hands on the table. "Then I won’t bother being polite. M-maybe I’m not the best healer around just yet, but it’s not like Redoubt is full of success stories. Everyone knows you’re at the bottom of the barrel, and that there are rumors Bastion is considering cutting you loose. You’re losers and fuck ups, so… what’s one more, right?”

Maubrich stared at her for a long moment, and she tried to stare back without much success. Moogles just weren't intimidating, it came from being three feet tall and covered in beautifully soft, cream-colored fur. Or maybe it was the cheerful and brightly colored pompom that bounced and swayed over their head. And, dressed up in her white mage robes, Mogaria was cuter than a teddy bear and about as intimidating.

"Well, you might be stupid, but you’re not as dumb as I expected," he said finally.

“Thanks, I guess? You’re about what I expected, unfortunately.”

The man barked out a laugh, shaking his head and motioning for the waitress to bring him another drink. "At least you can recognize the truth when it’s in front of you, Redoubt is exactly what everyone says we are."

The drink comes and he plucks it off the tray with one hand and lets his other reach out to brush across the waitress' well-padded rump - earning him a sharp slap from the girl who stomped away in a huff as Maubrich rubbed his cheek ruefully, giving Mogaria a leering grin that made her flush and look away. The thief seemed to find this funny, and let out another laugh. "Exactly what everyone says," he repeated, still grinning as he took a long drink.

Now that he took a look at her, he realized the young Moogle really was quite cute. And in more than just the ‘walking teddy bear’ kind of way. She was a petite little thing, sure, barely three feet tall not counting her pom. But she had broad, pronounced hips that were visible even beneath the drape of her white and red robes. And they swelled promisingly across her chest, even the loosely draped cloth unable to completely hide what was beneath. Her hair was a short little pixie cut that tufted out between her ears, and her pom was a strikingly gorgeous shade of pale purple. She wasn’t his usual type, but the ale was starting to whisper ideas into Maubrich’s ears. If even half of what was promised under that robe was true, then he could think of a position for her in the Clan. A few positions, if he let his mind really get dirty. 

And as soon as that thought crossed his mind, the thief knew the interview was over. He’d pretty much been willing to let her in already, Clan Redoubt would take nearly anyone with a pulse, and even a bad healer was better than no healer. Maubrich handled the Clan’s finances, and he knew just how much Gil they were pissing away on potions every month. If Mogaria could cut even a quarter out of that he’d be happy, but the idea of getting to see what was under those robes? Well, that cut past any lingering professionalism and gave him a terrible, wonderful idea. If he was going to let her in any way, why not have a little fun in the process?

“You know,” he said slowly. “We used to have a tradition in Redoubt, where borderline prospects would be able to complete a trial for their membership. A test to prove their resolve and skill. It’s been a while since we’ve done one, but… I think it might be worth reviving. I’ve always been a man of action, rather than words, and it would keep us from spending the next hour talking in circles.”

It was an absolute load of chocoboshit, but it sounded good, and Maubrich knew how to spin a tale. He was a thief and a conman at heart, before natural charisma and slim prospects had bumped him up the ladder to the top of Redoubt almost against his will. Some Clans actually did administer such a test, even if Redoubt had never bothered with such a thing, so it wasn’t outside the world of possibility. Naive and desperate, Mogaria swallowed the bait. She’d had what felt like every Clan leader in Grazston openly laugh in her face, and half a chance was better than none at all. 

“What do I have to do?” she asked, trying to look brave and determined and ending up looking even more adorable. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about her safety if she ever ended up in the field, the men would be tripping all over themselves to protect the cute little Moogle. 

“This will be a trial of determination,” Maubrich said, his voice serious even as his eyes gleamed, a smirk trying to tug at his lips. "Should you complete it, you'll be welcomed into Redoubt with open arms."

"And what will be the goal of my trial? Will I have to fight a monster? Bring you a rare item?"

"A bit of both," Maubrich replied, eyes gleaming in the tavern's uncertain light. "See, in order to gather the pale nectar you need, you'll need to tangle with a fearsome monster. The great white worm is a potent beast, you see, and-"

Mogaria was young and naive and overly trusting, but she wasn't completely stupid. She'd had plenty of experience in the markets buying supplies for her teachers and mentors, and she was all too used to crude innuendo. She gave Maubrich a look, fuzzy little fingers drumming the tabletop.

"You want me to blow you. Here. In public," she said flatly interrupting the thief’s grandiose pontificating.

"If you want to be crude about it," Maubrich laughed, seemingly genuinely pleased she had seen through him.

"I do, yes."

"Ah, prefers it crude and dirty. A woman after my own heart," Maubrich said, delighting in the way through young Moogle flushed, her facial fur looking more pink than white as she tried to squeak out a denial. "Then let me drop the charade and be crude, my dear healer. I'm drunk, you're cute, and it's been two months since I've had a decent roll. Help me out, and we'll both leave here happy. Deal?"

"...And how do I know you won't go back on your word?" Mogaria asked, ashamed she wasn't standing up marching away from the perverse jackass.

"Because I am many things," Maubrich declared loftily. "A thief. And a scoundrel. And a conman. But I am not the type to slip out the window without leaving the money on the bedside table. And a calling card, of course. There are some things that are below a gentleman thief."

Mogaria stared at the man, who didn't even have the shame to look abashed as she took in his scruffy features, his unshaven face, and the rather well-worn and ragged clothing he wore over hard used leathers. He was about as far from any definition as it was possible to get, but… well, all the gentlemen Mogaria had talked to had simply laughed in her face, so maybe being different wasn't a bad thing.

“Then I guess… I’m in,” Mogaria sighed. She jumped down off her chair, little paws thumping softly against the wood floor of the tavern, and she ducked down to slip under the table. Maubrich was shocked at her directness and determination, he'd expect a whole lot more wavering and uncertainty, but the Moogle had simply rolled up her metaphorical sleeves and gone to work. A good trait to have in a Clan, so gentleman that he was, he opened his legs for her as she moved to him. The tavern was dim, thank the gods, and the table low enough that it would be hard for anyone to get a good view of her. Not that it would set her at ease, the buzz of conversation and people so close was enough to leave her shaking, sharp little teeth gnawing at her lip as she started to fumble with the thief’s breeches. Maubrich shifted slightly in his seat, undoing his cloak and casually tossing it onto the table, the cloth draping over the edge to give the Moogle a little more privacy. He wasn’t an absolute bastard, after all.

"You ever done this before?" He asked as small, soft-furred hands dug in his pants, dragging his cock out into the open. He smiled to himself as he heard a gasp, and had to fight down a chuckle at how hard the little Moogle was trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, here and there," she said, handling his length with almost reverent care despite her feigned disinterest. "A few boyfriends, a few flings."

"All Moogles?"

"W-well," that disinterested voice cracked slightly, and Maubrich grinned even wider. Moogles were a good two or three feet shorter than a human, and with that size came certain advantages. And Maubrich was blessed even for a human. He was longer than her forearm, a thick shaft of heated breeding meat that was drooping slightly under its own weight. The thick smell of it was filling the air beneath the table, the smell of sweat and leather and chainmail all mingled together and making Mogaria's head spin as she grappled with the thief, her fingers digging slightly into the soft, loose skin that wrapped the iron-hard core of the human’s erection. She'd never touched a human before, never even seen one like this, and it was overwhelming. He was massive compared to a Moogle, easily three or four times the length and so thick it made her thighs press together in fearful anticipation.

“Then you’re gonna love this,” Maubrich promised, his voice lazily arrogant as he slipped a hand beneath the table and grabbed the top of her head, and dragged her forward. Her cute little face was mashed against his thigh and the side of his shaft, rubbing her soft fur against his twitching, growing length as he picked up his mug and took a long sip.

And she did, gods all damn it, she did. She was humiliated, a dropped coin away from being discovered and having her dream leveraged against her body. She was about to gag on some human's dick, all for a chance to join the worst Clan this side of the Aldanna Range. She should have been angry and humiliated and disgusted, but she was rubbing her cheek against him like a cat nuzzling into a friendly hand. The heat of him baked her face, the smell of his sweat and armor thick in her nose, a melange of scent that made her warm and dizzy and happy in a way that felt even more shameful than humiliation. Her own emotions were betraying her as she gave his cock a slow, probing kiss to test the flavor.

It was intense. Meat and salt and bitter leather washed thick across her tongue, so different from the almost floral taste of her previous dalliances, gentle-Moogles all of them, nobles who had fallen in fancy with the cute pom behind the chemist counter. They had been gentle little trysts until they had bored of her, storybook romances until some other pom caught their eye and they were off with little more than a word. In comparison to the vulgar, heavy presence of Maubrich those encounters seemed chaste, almost cute. And there was nothing cute about what the thief was rubbing against her, not as it twitched and oozed a Moogle-thumb sized blob of sticky, glistening pre that splattered down onto Mogaria's back, soaking through her robes and making the cloth cling to her fur.

"H-hey!"

"I'll pay to get your robes cleaned," Maubroch groaned, not releasing her head. If anything he ground her even harder into the little hollow between thigh and shaft, mashing her nose against the hot, hairy flesh.

"I worked hard for these," Mogaria groused, even as her lips kissed his shaft again. Earning another tremble and another splotch of decoration. They were dark, greasy stains that showed starkly against the snowy linen, and each one soaked through so thoroughly she could feel the dissipating warmth on her fur.

"D-don’t…. Care,” the thief grunted, his fingers almost painful as he gripped her head, his hips bucking a little as he ground her against his shaft. Her fur was like silk, and the softness of it against his achingly hard cock was divine. If he was honest, he’d never been with a Moogle before, but he’d heard rumors and…

“Gods!” The man swore, bending forward and nearly bouncing his head off the table as his cock spasmed, muscles contracting as he nearly came just from that softness. Mogaria found her face ground into the swelling underside of his cock, feeling the thief's thick cumvein twitch and pulse. He wasn’t just leaking, he was spurting thick, gooey strands of pre that splashed down Mogaria’s back and drooled across her shoulders, more of it running down his length to drip onto her face. She reeked of human already, her naturally sweet scent completely lost beneath the stink of musk and sweat and leather. It was sinking into her fur and clinging to her like perfume, though far less fragrant than anything the chemist had ever sold. 

Her eyelids twitched, nostrils flaring as she reflexively drank in the smell, flooding her lungs with the rich and dark scent. It was driving her crazy, and she couldn’t keep herself still, squirming against Maubrich’s cock as he rolled his hips, practically riding her face as his cock ground and smeared across her fur. She was the softest thing he'd ever felt, and it took every ounce of thieves' experience he had to stay quiet, to not groan out loud as she rubbed herself up and down his cock. 

"Can't fault your enthusiasm," he growled, teeth clenched as his fist tightened around the handle of his mug, knuckles going white as he kept his face as bland and calm as he could. "But you can't… can't claim victory if you never take the battle to your foe."

"What?" Mogaria pulled back, frowning up at the man. But rather than explain with words, he simply led by action. His hand yanking hard and jamming his cock against her lips, anointing the soft pillows with thick smears of murky white pre. Her lips were pried open, and then four inches of jaw-crackingly thick cock thundered into her mouth.

Moogles are cute and fluffy little things, all wings and pom and soft fur. But while their appearance may seem delicate, they are sturdy and hardy people, well suited to the lifestyle of adventure and daring-do. They were also quite stretchy, so there was no real pain as Mogaria felt her jaw forced wide, just an ache and a slight burn at the corners of her mouths as she was forced to accept the biggest cock she'd ever seen. Her cheeks puffed out, and her tongue was pinned to the floor of her mouth by the sheer bulk of Maubrich’s cock. She gurgled in protest, but while she considered hitting him her brain was currently being overtaken by a much more important realization. A huge, ballooning thought that was taking over her entire brain, every scrap of intelligence she had bending toward a single conclusion. 

As terrible and wonderful as Maubrich smelled, he tasted even better. It was a thick, brutally bitter, and salty flavor that covered her tongue, every motion of his expansive cock grinding the taste into her tastebuds and etching it into her brain. Part of her wanted to gag, but all that came out was a pathetic, muffled moan.

"Better than some Moogle, eh?" Maubrich teased, his voice strained as he gave her another little tug, grinding the head of his cock against the opening to her throat. 

And it was, so help her. All of her past dalliances had been dainty nobleman, perfumed and sweet. They had not half the size or a quarter of the vitality this rough, scarred brigantine possessed. They had tasted of nothing, while Maubrich’s flavor was like a sledgehammer to her poor, spinning brain. It was a raw, primal taste that she wanted more of, her tongue wiggling and squirming under his pinning girth, trying to get more even as drool spilled from her stretched lips, gooey streams that washed down her chin and dripped onto her stained robes.

Dragging himself out of her mouth only added to the mess, a mix of pre and spit slopping down her chin as he popped free, his glistening cock slapping down hard on her face as Mogaria panted and whined, his hand an iron shackle that held her bound to his cock. He hated to leave that tight, warm perfection but it was either pull out or burst.

"It's better," she gasped, the words tumbling out of her as Maubrich let out a warm, low chuckle that turned into a desperate, grunting moan as Mogaria rubbed her face against the base of his cock, peppering kisses along the swell of his heavy balls.

"Gods you are good at this," the thief groaned, still on edge. He needed a moment to recover, just a moment to catch his breath, but that would mean dragging her off his cock and he just wasn't willing to do that. "Best hiring decision I've ever made."

Pulling her nose out of his balls, Mogaria glanced up at the thief. "You mean I'm part of the clan?"

"From the moment I felt that fur," Maubrich grunted, tugging her back to work as he rolled his hips, grinding his cock back and forth along her face, heavy balls swaying to gently clap against her chin and neck. "Now hush up and get the job - nngggh!"

His voice broke off into a strangled grunt as Mogaria pulled back and then drove herself down onto his cock, the head ramming against the back of her throat and making the Moogle gag. But she couldn't get the leverage to go any deeper, the angle was all wrong and his cock was simply too big. Even with his hand tugging painfully on her hair and pom, and both of them grunting and moaning together, there was no way to breach into the Moogle's tight, unyielding throat.

So strong arms simply scooped her up, lean but powerful muscles flexing as Maubrich picked her right off the floor with a grunt, her petite body easily suspended beneath the table. She felt herself rolled over, wings fluttering to help keep herself aloft as, with a groan, the grizzled thief yanked her down onto his cock. At this new angle, on her back and with her neck straight, he was able to drive down her throat, burying himself to the hilt even as his heavy balls slapped against her face, covering her eyes and draping across her nose. For a moment her wold was darkness and fullness, the smell and taste of Maubrich filling her senses, his cock bulging her throat as he ground against her face.

And then she was being jerked back and forth, her whole diminutive body dragged up and down the man's shaft like she was nothing more than a cocksleeve as the huge bulge of his cock jerked up and down her throat, marking his progress as he sawed the small Moogle back and forth in rough motions. He was so damn close, and with her wiggling tongue lavishing his cock, and her spasming throat milking his shaft, he was rushing toward the finish line, and there was no holding back. 

Burying her nose in his balls and his cock down her throat, Maubrich let out a snarling growl, his hips jerking in short, sharp little thrusts as his body clenched, muscles tightening as pleasure hit him like a hammer. The first shot poured directly into her stomach, delivered without giving her a chance to taste it. And so with a groan, he dragged her back until his head was just teasing her tongue. The next shot filled her mouth, bulging her cheeks as salty, thick jizz poured out of his twitching cumslit. It was a tide that she couldn't keep up with, swallowing down what she could as the rest of the flood spurted from her lips and drooled out of her nose.

Unfortunately, pulling back so far was a more awkward position, and Mogaria slipped from his grasp as his arms jerked, dragging off his cock with a pop and a wash of spit as she landed on her well-padded rump. His cock fired again, taking her full in the face with a wet splatter of jizz that sprayed droplets of thick, gooey muck all over, further staining her robe and decorating the underside of the table. Sputtering, Mogaria tried to straighten, the next shot catching the side of her face, a wet slap as the thick, gluey cum struck and stuck, clinging to her fur in a thick layer of paste. She lost track after that, sputtering and coughing as his cock finished decorating her, at least one shot poured directly into the hood of her robe - if she ever managed to wash the stains out, she doubted the smell would ever leave.

Finally, the tide seemed to abate, and Maubrich slumped back onto his seat with a groan. His cock dangled between his legs, glazed with a thick layer of white cum and clear throat slop, thick droplets slowly oozing off the messy helmet. It took Aria a good minute to slowly climb out from under the table and clamber up onto her chair, whimpering as cum oozed down her nose. There was a monogrammed handkerchief waiting for her (with initials not at all close to Maubrich’s own) that was entirely not up to the sheer volume she was coated in.

The tavern was staring, snickering, and muttering as they took in the soggy, cummy Moogle. She tried not to make eye contact with anyone as Maubrich took a last pull off his drink before bothering to turkey himself away.

"That was a successful trial if I've ever seen one," the thief declared happily, his voice a little thick with pleasure still as he gave his newest recruit a dazzling smile. "I think you'll do well in Redoubt, Mogaria. And I can guarantee I'll be watching you with interest."

Tossing a handful of coins onto the table, Maubrich stood and stretched, adjusting his pants and giving her a smile. 

"I'll send a runner to your place tomorrow morning to bring you to our headquarters. We'll get you sworn in with the Judge and take care of getting you outfitted, I'm sure we can do better than what you have."

He trailed off as Mogaria looked away, staring at the table. For all his abundant faults, Maubrich was still clever, and it didn't take more than a few seconds to work out the problem."

“You don't have anywhere to go, do ya?”

Mogaria flushed, looking away. Even coated in a practical stranger’s cum, that question managed to feel even more humiliated. 

“No,” she admitted after a moment. “I couldn’t afford to keep paying the rent on my room after I failed the last two jobs I took.”

To her surprise, Maubrich didn’t laugh. He may have been a conman and a scoundrel and an all-around bastard, but he wasn’t an evil man. Suffering and misery didn’t make him happy, and instead of smirking at her he gave her a sympathetic smile and reached out a hand. Blinking in surprise, Mogaria took it after a moment and was hauled up to her feet, legs wobbling for a moment and nearly dumping her back to the floor.

“Well, we got plenty of space back at our headquarters,” he told her encouragingly. “The roster is empty enough that I can even promise you a room of your own. It won’t be five-star accommodations, but it’s a bed and a roof. You can consider it part of your salary if ya want.”

“You… really mean that?”

“Sure I do,” Maubrich nodded. “We take care of our own. I didn’t lie to you, you’re part of Clan Redoubt now. I’ll be as straight with you as I am with the rest, and as long as we’re getting jobs, you’ll be getting jobs. And if we aren’t, I’m not gonna toss you out on your head. You’re stuck with us, now.”

There was an awkward minute, Maubrich doing up his breeches and pretending to be very interested in the filthy brick wall next to him as Mogaria wiped her eyes, dabbing away the tears that had been gathering there. Knowing she had a home, that she had a roof over her head and a safe place to sleep was such a crushing relief that she almost collapsed again. 

“Thank you,” she finally managed. And if her voice was a bit rough, the thief pretended not to notice. 

“Don’t thank me yet, not until you find out what your first job is. I have one I’ve been trying to get taken care of for weeks now, and you might be just the right fit for it.”

“Is it... going to be like this one?” the young Moogle asked, glancing down at her stained robes.

“Probably worse,” Maubrich said cheerfully as he headed off, hands thrust into his pockets and Mogaria hurrying to catch up. 