Dim Sum Date

(Disclaimer: Any acts of transformation, expansion, or mental altercation have been consented to by the owners of the characters affected. Any acts depicted are meant as explorations of the fetishistic psyche, hold artistic merit, and are compliant with the TOS of Patreon).

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Commission for Dee!

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Dee stirred to life in a cocoon of fluffy pink sheets. They furtively opened one eye to the light streaming through the window. And groaned before turning over to check the time. The alarm clock was in snooze mode, the red numbers dim and difficult to read against the sun’s glare. It was half past eleven, and Dee was alone in the bed, the other side missing a snoring cow. They presumed their lover had woken early and allowed them to sleep through their alarm.

It was the second Friday of the month, which meant no work at the Violet Streams for Dee. They yawned and worked the crust of sleep from both eyes with their knuckles, sat upright with the covers to their neck, and considered re-mummifying themselves for another snooze. Their stomach made quick work of their deliberations with a decisive growl, and Dee released themselves from their warm prison. Hunger had triumphed over tiredness.

They got up and spoke an incantation to make the bed. Phantom forces fluffed the pillows and pressed the duvet, neatly ironing out the creases. They brought a hand to their neck cloud and enlarged it until it came up to their chin, encircling their neck like suds from a pink bubblebath. Dee dressed themselves with a plain silver blouse that hung loose over their waist, and paired it with a pale blue ankle-length skirt. They slipped on a pair of grey shoes with pink soles and commanded their toothbrush to work on their teeth, while they pinned back their hair in the dresser mirror. Today was meant to be a special day, so they wanted to look their best. A quick application of pale pink lip paint to their muzzle, and they were finished.

The stairs were creaky on their descent. As usual. Living with a polycule of fat, bulky, and generally heavy creatures wore on the furniture and the floorboards. Only two of them were in the house today. Dee, and Butters, who stood in the kitchen wearing a pair of sweatpants and a frilly pink apron which read “Kiss the Badger, Or Perish.”

Butters was most comfortable at twelve feet tall. That made it difficult to cook eggs and bacon, so he settled for eight feet when it came to staying at Dee’s house. The pan spat at him, he grumbled in a language that wasn’t found on this plane, then turned down the heat to safely look away from the stovetop.

“Morning,” Butters growled in his baritone. “Wasn’t expecting you to be awake so soon, you hungry?”

Dee nodded. “Isn’t that my apron?” They took their seat at the kitchen table.

“The only one I could find that wasn’t covered in… whatever Mars and Zombie were ‘cooking’ the last time they wore them.” Butters grabbed a plate, filled it with a generous portion of eggs, bacon, and a couple of potato scones. “We’re out of lorne sausage, sorry.”

“You’re all the square sausage I need today love,” Dee layered bacon on top of the potato scone, then egg on top of that, and shoved it into their mouth with an absolute lack of decorum. They were a gremlin at heart, Dee made no attempts to hide that.

Butters sat down opposite their lover. “You still got plans for us today? You said something about wanting to take me somewhere on Friday, and in case you haven’t noticed, it’s Friday.”

Dee chomped the rest of their breakfast. Being a magical creature had its perks. One of them was not having to worry about cholesterol. Fried breakfasts, the love language of Scottish mornings, had no downside to them. “Of course I remembered,” they smiled and dashed to the kitchen counter to grab their phone. “After all. If it wasn't Friday, and I was still here - at this time - we’d be getting a visit from my boss.”

Butters squinted at the notion of Dee’s boss appearing in their home. “Oh please, not again, he manifested in the bathtub last time.”

Dee shrugged, still checking their phone. “He’s not that bad.”

“While I was USING said bathroom, Dee. A spooky purple bear fucking jumpscared me while I was taking a shit. So PLEASE be sure you’re not scheduled today, because if he pops out of the garbage disposal or something while I’m doing dishes, he’s getting these hands.”

Dee raised a claw. “Point taken. I’ve got a text right here that says I’m definitely not scheduled today.”

Butters hummed. “Selph can’t text.”

“A text from his head of staff, we’re still trying to explain how Netflix works to him.”

Dee wiggled their way onto Butters lap and showed him their phone screen. On it was the mobile site for the Lacquer Compass. A Dim Sum restaurant which had opened in the heart of the city and had been booked for months. The owners were an elderly pair of qilin from China, and had not expected the success their simple, time-tested cooking would have in a modern setting. Dee knew that Butters had recently been fiending for good Dim Sum, so they called in a favour to get a lunchtime booking.

“... how?” Butters asked, and stared at the screen.

“I asked Selph, he apparently knows the owners.”

“Does he just know everyone? It’s kind of scary.” Butters patted Dee on the hip and gently ushered them off his knees. “But y’know, sounds good to me, the nearest good Dim Sum place still doesn’t deliver to this part of town. Not since the incident with the green fox, y’know the one?”

Dee laughed awkwardly. “Oh uh, I think I’ve… heard of them,” they omitted the part where they knew exactly who it was. But that wasn’t relevant. “We’re going as soon as you’re ready, so if you’re hungry, go get changed!”

Butters raised a brow. “Funny words for someone who woke up like twenty minutes ago and just had a fry-up for breakfast.”

“This isn’t about me, go change!”

Butters slugged towards the stairs. “Alright, alright, I’m going. I don’t have to wear anything too fancy or sparkly do I?”

Dee shook their head. “Just wear something you can move in.”

When Butters returned he had dressed himself in a loose fitting guayabera shirt, with lurid embroidery running lengthwise down its centre, and across the top of the breast pocket. A pair of white corduroys hugged his muscular legs. He somehow managed to own, and put on, a pair of off-white oxford shoes with pale pink soles. The smirk he wore told Dee that he had overdressed on purpose, and was awaiting his compliment.

“You look beautiful,” Dee said.

Butters shrugged, then put his meaty hand out for Dee to take and lead him out for their date.

They arrived at the Lacquer Compass, went inside, and were seated quickly. Dee had reserved a seat nearest the kitchen. The smell of aromatic teas and hot Chinese food made the badger relax. They watched Butters squirm in his chair, but he settled once he found his equilibrium on the small but reinforced chair. His stomach bulged over the table’s edge, which Dee teased him about.

“He-hello, welcome to the La-la-lacquer compass, what can I get you?” A stiff-spined, terrified looking grey cat wheeled a cart to the table. He was too well fed to fit in the shiny red and silver uniform, his grey stomach fur peeking under the silk shirt. “Would you like to make a selection of t-t-tea?”

Butters snorted. “Chrysanthemum tea.”

“Would you like to know th-the teas we have to--”

Butters narrowed his eyes. “Chrysanthemum. Tea.”

The nervous grey cat left a teapot, and two cups. Butters sighed. Dee tried to reach to begin pouring, but Butters shook his head. He reached forward and poured Dee’s cup full of floral tea, but left a space to ensure it didn’t fully fill the cup. “The young pour cups for the elderly, and people fill the cups of those they respect, or love.” He spoke in a soft tone as he recited. “You also leave a space, the cup should always be eighty percent full, or it’s bad luck. Unless it’s alcohol,” he snorted.

Dee blushed. “You know a lot about Dim Sum stuff, I didn’t think you were ‘that’ into it.”

“I like a lot of food. I like food culture. It tells you a lot about how people feel about each other, and I think that’s pretty cool.” He poured his own cup, then took a sip. “Why? You don’t think it’s weird, do you?”

“No, I think it’s sweet you’re so passionate about food,” Dee gave him a playful kick under the table. “Now, let’s actually eat some of it.”

A less terrified server wheeled a tray to Dee’s table. Bamboo steamers were opened one by one in a display that whetted their appetite. They made their selection, as did Butters, and the server dutifully placed their choices on the lazy susan at the centre of the table. Butters deferred to let Dee take the first bite. They chose a bowl of wonton soup, xiaolongbao, and spare ribs.

Butters expertly moved slice after slice of siu mei, a Hong Kong style barbecue meat, to their lips to blow and cool it down before eating. The specific meat of choice was soy sauce chicken. He said it was just the right balance of mellow and acidic flavours, which he washed down with the tea to cleanse his palette before starting on his next dish. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying his meal, the sight of him pensively analyzing the flavours with closed eyes while he chewed made Dee’s heart flutter. They loved their scholarly cow of a boyfriend, and there was nothing on Earth more sacrosanct than watching him be content.

Dee bit into their xiaolongbao. The soft dumpling burst in their mouth. Savory broth mixed with the richness of a seafood medley. They immediately scarfed the remaining dumplings and moved on to the next dish.

A set of small, glistening ribs, covered in sesame seeds and glossy from the oil brushing. Their badger instincts kicked in, and they gnawed at lightspeed. They stripped the meat from the bone, earning a surprised look from the same cat as before. He just stood there, watching Dee perform a piranha’s kill on the spare ribs before he announced himself with a polite cough.

Butters just looked amused.

“Would you like to uh, select something else?”

Dee looked longingly at the desserts on the back row of the trolley.

“You know. In Dim Sum, there’s no set course order. You can mix sweet with savory,” Butters said.

“How did you know I was wanting sweets?”

Butters rolled his eyes. “Because if you stared any harder at that pineapple bun it’d be filing a restraining order, so eat it up before it can go to court. C’mon.”

The cat refilled the lazy susan and left the couple to eat.

Dee bit into the bun. They tasted sweet, soft and fluffy. It was lovely, but no pineapple. “Uh, I think it’s faulty. There’s no fruit.”

Butters brought a napkin to their mouth to stifle their laughter. “It’s just a name. There’s no pineapple in it, they just call it that ‘cause the top gets all cracked and flaky like the rough skin of a pineapple.”

Dee went back to gnawing on the second plate of ribs they had chosen. Then worked on a bowl of Chinese sticky rice with sausage and mushrooms steeped in soy sauce. “That’s dumb,” they said.

Butters leaned forward and put their hand on Dee’s chin. “You know what isn’t dumb? This. Thanks, Dee. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to do something as simple as eat with you. You have no idea how cute you are when you’re going all piranha 3D on a set of ribs.”

Dee blushed, their neck cloud swelled to mask part of their expression. “And you’re cute when you’re going off about Dim Sum lore, doofus.” They looked at Butters’ plate. “So tell me more, what’s that you’ve got?”

“Ah, well, this is a four treasure chicken roll and…”

The two continued their lunch, and time stood still. The only thing which mattered to Dee in that moment was their cow, and their love for Dim Sum.