I don't even know why, but this story has just flooded my consciousness in the last few days and I've neglected sleep to bring up the first 30,000 words or so. So I want to share and see what everyone thinks. Rated M for adult themes and languages. Please read and review!

Chapter 1: First Impressions

Titania's POV

The concrete is cold beneath my cheek; it wakes me. I sit up, tucking my legs underneath me to warm up. The ache in my groin tells me that I was recently taken; not surprising. But finding myself thrown onto the streets is surprising. Had Master tired of me? But then I would be dead, so unless this is some version of the afterlife, I am alive.

Lifting my hand to my throbbing forehead, I smell blood – not my own. I sniff under my claws; it's lodged there. I lick my hand carefully, grooming down the fur, and then wash my face in case there is more blood there. My grey face fur is not stained badly, though my white hand fur is streaked a bit; a few passes does the trick. I wash the other hand, smelling and tasting a human's blood under those claws as well.

I scratched a John, I think to myself, trying to piece together what might have happened. Master must have sent me to a room to entertain a guest; I must have fought him, for some reason. Oberon would have rescued the John and shaken me; that is why I feel bruised. Usually, however, I would have woken in my cage after such an incident; I had done it often before realizing the futility.

What's different now? I ask myself as I lean over to wash my side, gently nibbling the fur where a few scratches have bloodied the strands of hair and matted them. My own blood is a familiar taste; I cough out some hairs and spit them to the side.

"You okay?"

Oberon's voice makes my fur stand on end and I arch my back, hissing automatically, ears flattened to my head. I take a deep breath and find him crouched in the shadows, his shaggy, matted brown fur blending into the darkness. He's almost twice my size and used to scare me.

"Fine," I answer shortly, curling my tail around my legs and smoothing down my fur with both hands.

Oberon tilts his head slightly. He's not the brightest – Master bred him for loyalty and guardianship, not for intelligence. I, however, was bred to be pleasing, including in conversation. The very tip of my tail ticks back and forth; I don't mind.

Oberon waves his docked tail once, indicating his pleasure than I am alright. This is confusing; usually he stays away from my sisters and I unless he had to subdue one of us or was permitted some pleasure of our bodies by Master. My confusion is evident and he cocks his head to one side, short ears perked stiffly up.

"Don't you remem- remember?" he asks, long tongue tripping his words up. He doesn't speak much and his tongue gets in his way.

"Remember what?" I ask stiffly.

"We es-thaped. You showed me." His long tongue licks up drool from his chops; I shudder at the saliva, remembering it falling onto my back fur when he took me in front of our Master for his amusement. It had taken hours to feel moderately clean again.

I think back, nodding blankly to myself. Oberon and I had been talking about escaping; using my wit, charms, and amble physical pleasures, I had seduced him into league with me and my sisters. But looking around, I could not find them with us.

"What about Hermia, Hippolyta, and Aemilia?" I ask sharply.

Oberon whines and lowers his head submissively, mouth opening in a placating gesture. I put back my ears and hiss, demanding an answer. "They were locked up and we didn't have time," he responds slowly, ears flattened in defensiveness and deference.

"We have to go back for them." I stand, coiling my tail around one ankle so that it resembles an anklet, its white tip still ticking maddeningly. I still it consciously.

Oberon stands, keeping his head lowered to protect his throat as if I was going to attack him. He nervously licks his nose, indicating his wish to apologize and to repair our relationship. "We can't, we'd die," he says quietly.

I bare my fangs, tail raising and ears pinned back, showing my anger in voice and body. "They're my sisters. We're going back."

Oberon whines again, tucking his tail down between his legs. It's too short to really do anything, but the gesture is all that matters. He knows I am the boss around here, but he still doesn't like the idea.

I take a moment to smooth down my front fur, briskly wiping more of my own blood from my middle left breast. The cut there is shallow; now that I inspect it, I realize it is too clean a cut to have come from Oberon's sharp dog claws. My own perfectly manicured cat claws, however, could have done it.

Looking around, I realize I have no idea where we are. In an alley, yes; but where?

Leo's POV

My brothers and I run through the crisp air. There's a chill to it that means fall isn't far off and we'll soon have to make shorter and shorter runs, despite the longer nights. We freeze, otherwise, and can even slip into pre-hibernation cycles, though no one has yet fully hibernated. With the Foot defeated, however, there is not much work to be done anyway. We put down the occasional gang event or single robber up to no good; more and more often, we would explore the city as we never had before.

Some nights, we watch movies at the theater from the rafters and snag huge, greasy garbage bags of popcorn from the trash after the theater closed for the night, stashing them on the rooftop to eat over the next week or so. Mikey always manages to put away more than his share of it than anyone else; I suspect he is building a layer of fat as a result. I should up his training.

Once, we had found a wandering child and dropped her off in front of the nearest police station. She had told the officers about the guardian angels who had saved her – though they explained that angels were humans with wings, not bipedal turtles with brightly colored masks. Mikey still occasionally calls me "Weo."

Sometimes we find someone in need of help that we can provide. Taken from the bodies of gang members, drug lords, and the occasional robber, a bit of money might find itself into a single mother's purse one night. It might show up in a homeless man's cup when he wakes the next morning. After an earthquake made several neighborhoods in our side of town fall down, we had spent many nights repairing walls, roofs, furniture, and appliances; Don worked on the latter while Mikey, Raph, and I worked on the former. Doing such good deeds made us all happy, even if Raph sometimes grumped about spending all night waiting for Don to finish patching this and that.

A strange scent catches my attention and I slow, jogging towards an alley to follow it. My brothers catch the same scent and follow. Raph sniffs several times and sneezes the air back out, shaking his head. "Does that smell like a cat to anyone else?" he asks quietly.

"Yeah, but… different," Mikey agrees. "Like… Spicy? Is that a scent?"

"I think it's a taste," Don replies.

"Don't you taste with your nose anyway?" Mike sniffs again. "Cinnamon. It smells like cinnamon candies."

Don raises an eyeridge and rolls his eyes. "Your nose helps with taste, Mike, but taste buds are located on your tongue. You could eat an onion and think it was an apple if your nose was plugged."

"I wanna try that," the youngest exclaims.

"Concentrate," I scold, peering into the alleyway from which the scent comes. Another scent, harder to detect, is woven in with it; this one is of dirt, unwashed hair, and, faintly, blood. I dislike the smell but it's unmistakable.

"Hello?" Mike calls down into the alleyway.

Raph smacks him upside the head. "Warn 'em, why don'tcha?" he growls. I shake my head, too, and jump down into the alley to investigate.

There's a low growl from my left and something big, furred, and heavy hits me in the side. I grab the first thing I can – one of its limbs – as my shell whacks into a dumpster. The creature barks, much like a dog; I bring my fist down into its body and it yelps.

"Leo!" Raph snarls and jumps down, grabbing the animal and pulling it off by the fur; the creature whines in pain and wiggles, trying to get loose. I stand up; my shell hurts a little but it's only a bruise. Raph is holding it down firmly; though it's bigger than him, he's stronger.

Don and Mike had followed Raph and are standing next to me as we try to see what Raph is holding. It's twisting too fast for a good look, but it's definitely got thick, matted fur, a bobbed tail, four limbs, and claws. I can feel a scratch on my plastron from the attack; it's not very deep.

"Oberon, down!" a female voice hisses from the shadows. The creature stops moving and lets Raph force him onto the concrete, whining in pain. Raph releases it and rejoins us; the being sorts itself out until it is crouched on four legs, thick fur obscuring its face, which I assume is on the end facing us. Its tail is erect and stiff, only three inches long at the most. It shakes out its fur, growling under its breath; it rears onto its back paws, balancing on two legs like a human, and all three of us facing it gasp simultaneously.

The creature has short brown fur around its human-like face with a protruding jaw, lips thrust forward into a half-muzzle. His lips are pulled back, revealing sharp canines and a pair of short fangs. His brown eyes are wary and untrusting and his nose is mostly human-looking, though darker than the rest of his face. His belly fur is longer than the fur on his face and arms, shaggy and matted with dirt, leaves, and mud. His arms are to his side by his elbows are bent, ready to grab anything that comes for him. Standing, he is almost a foot taller than Raph and me. He is most certainly male; the fur thins around his privates, revealing a dog-like sheathed penis. He's completely naked and I unconsciously tuck my tail up tighter to make sure I am not revealed.

Another creature steps up to his left and this one, too, shocks us all. She – her six small breasts down her belly mark her as female – has mostly grey fur, though it is carefully groomed and gleams in the soft light coming from a street lamp at the entry to the alley. Her fur is white around her mouth and down her neck until just between her first pair of breasts, on her hands, and down her hind legs on which she balances primly. Her left leg is white-furred half-way up the thigh; her right is only white to the knee. The fur is standing on end from either fear or anger. Around her mouth and nose are longer white whiskers. Her ears stand erect on the top of her head, surrounded by the longest hair on her body. The tips of her ears barely reach the dog-man's chest; she's probably around five feet tall. Her eyes are a piercing yellow with slit pupils. She reminds me of a cat as she sniffs at us, long tail swaying side to side behind her and the white tip of it ticking quickly.

"Um… Wow…" Mike whistles. His eyes are stuck on the cat-lady's breasts; she bares her fangs at him, ears flattening.

"Mikey, manners!" Don snaps, cuffing the youngest; he's blushing terribly himself and can't seem to look up from the pavement.

"Hi," I say, keeping my gaze carefully on the cat-woman's eyes. She meets my eyes and lowers her lips over her fangs, though her ears are still pinned back. "I'm Leo."

She looks me over coolly, gaze lingering on my weapons and mask. The dog-man next to her slowly lets his ears rise from their flattened position, though he keeps a careful eye on Raph. Like Mike, the hothead is ogling the cat-woman.

"I am Titania," the cat-woman finally replies, meeting my eyes again. Her gaze is fierce, challenging. She gestures quickly to her companion. "This is Oberon." Her voice is cultured and has a faint English accent, with a husky undertone that some part of me really likes. I can tell it has the same effect on my brothers; even Don glances up at the sound of her voice.

"These are my brothers. Raph, Don, and Mike. It's nice to meet you," I say politely. I offer my hand, keeping my movements slow. I would hate to have the dog-man bite me.

Titania looks at my hand for a moment, then back in my eyes, and finally reaches out just as slowly. Her hand is warm and soft; the fur feels like velvet as I gently close my hand around hers and shake it carefully. She flexes her hand and claws emerge from the fur of her fingertips, but they rest on my wrist without scratching. We both withdraw our hands slowly.

"If you don't mind my asking…" Don interrupts, blushing when the cat-woman looks at him and firmly staring at the ground still, "what are you?"

She looks at him as if he is simple, though he misses the expression since the concrete between his toes seems so fascinating. Mikey is still staring at the woman's breasts despite the earlier warning. "I am a pleasurer," she responds finally, one ear softening. Her tail slows down its waving, though the end is still ticking away rapidly. After a moment, Titania winds the tip of her tail around her ankle. "Oberon is my… guardian." With a goofy grin, Oberon opens his mouth and a long tongue slips out, wagging and slobbering against his chin. His tail has relaxed down and his ears are erect, interested. He seems friendly, apparently forgetting that he had attacked me moments ago.

I glance at Raph, who looks at me and raises an eyeridge expressively. His arms are crossed and he is glowering at the dog, though stealing appreciative glances at the cat-woman. I can't really blame him; she is sexy on a level none of us have seen before. And she isn't screaming and running away, which makes even the sexiest human rather hard to appreciate.

Oberon's POV

Titania's tail slows down and I relax, grinning. I've never met a turtle before; now I'm meeting four. They smell weird, weirder than humans. And they're a little taller than Hermia; the two tallest are about one of Master's feet shorter than me. They're all wearing things – brown cloth around their waists, knees, and elbows.

The blue one, Leo, seems to be the leader. He has two things sticking up from his back; they look like metal wrapped in leather. I like chewing leather. It's hard to tell in the dark, but his hide is some medium shade of green, like grass, and his chest is dark yellow, like pee. I like grass. He smells like mint and green tea, which Master's youngest daughter likes to drink. She used to think I was a good boy until Master took me away from her so he could make me into what I am now. I don't know where she is; I wish she would scratch my belly again, making my leg thump. That was back when I walked on all fours.

The red one, Raph, he was the one who grabbed me. It had hurt and I had tried to bite him, but his hands had been on my scruffy upper back fur and there hadn't been much I could do to get at him. Still, I was supposed to protect Titania, so I had tried, I really had. He's got metal things in his belt, two of them; they look like weird forks. I'm hungry; I wonder if they have food and will share. His skin is darker than Leo's but his hard chest part is lighter yellow, like Titania's eyes. He smells like human sweat and oil, or grease, or something mechanical. I sniff in his direction but I can't figure out what that smell reminds me of.

Mike is watching Titania as though she is working the pole. His eyes follow first her upper breasts, then her middle, then her lower – and then back up. His grin is nearly as goofy as mine, but he isn't drooling. His skin is lighter green than the other three; his front is a dark yellow, almost brownish. He smells like that green soap Master likes. I like the wood things stuck in his belt. I wonder if he'll let me chew on them. Maybe if I'm a really good boy.

The last, Don, is staring at the ground. I wonder what's so interesting about it and try to look where his eyes are pointed. It only looks like regular concrete. Sometimes I don't understand things, but that's okay. I'm sure he's looking at something important. He's got a long wood stick on his back; maybe I can chew that. He's not paying much attention; maybe I can take it. But Master taught me to ask before taking things to chew, so I won't take it. His skin is like the grass in my pee spot, yellow-green, and his front is yellow like the metal some guests wear on their fingers or around their wrists. He smells like coffee. I like coffee. Master sometimes lets me have some in my treat bowl in the morning, especially if we had a lot of johns through the night before. I like it with cream, which sometimes Titania will give me if I beg nicely.

Titania is really nice to me. I love Master, I really do. But I really like Titania, too. When she had started talking about leaving, I had whined. I like the way Master would pat my head when I had been a good boy. I like it when he lets me have one of the cats for being a good boy. But she has shown me that he isn't always nice to me, especially when I am a bad boy. Sometimes, I make him mad, and her kicks or hits me and makes me walk around awkwardly on my hands and legs like I had before he had taken me away from his daughter. If I am a really bad boy, he puts a sharp collar around my neck and leaves me in a tiny room without food or water. Even my loudest howls and whining and begging are ignored when I am a very bad boy.

But Titania has never hurt me. I know that she had obeyed Master and only let me have her because he told her to. But she had made it nice. She told me I was a good boy, had let me chew up a wonderful bone filled with delicious treats. She always has something for me when I take her to her room – cream, a treat, a piece of wood to work on. We can't play fetch in her small room where she works, but she rubs my tummy. And even when Master didn't tell her to, sometimes she makes me feel very happy and let me take her.

The only thing I don't like is bath time. I always know when it is coming, too; Titania's nose would be crinkled whenever around me. She would take me to the bathroom. I don't like getting washed, unless I'm drooling. Or maybe if I'm really thirsty and splash a little when drinking. Or if it's very hot and Master lets me stand in the sprinklers on the grass. But she keeps telling me how good a boy I am, so I let her wash me and comb my fur even though the tugging hurts and I smell like her for days afterwards. Master doesn't mind when she cleans me, but he also doesn't mind when I'm not clean. If something bugs me and I scratch it too much, he'll cut off the patch of fur; otherwise, we don't really care.

I wonder if Titania likes the smells on the turtles as much as I do. She walks towards the leader and I wait. She always does things her own way, in her own time; only Master can make her hurry up. She calls the turtles "terra pins," but I don't think they're like the white things Master sometimes knocks down with a big heavy ball. I can't chew on those, either, and the ball is too heavy and big to play fetch with. Not that I want to chew on the turtles. But maybe they have guard dogs where they work and carry those sticks for us.

Mike's POV

God damn, this chick is hot! She's a little thinner than I like; some good food would plump her – and her breasts – right up. I like a chick with meat on her bones. Maybe she likes post-closing popcorn. God knows we can find enough of that deliciousness.

Leo glances at me as if he can read my mind; I grin sheepishly. I can't help it! I'm a young man! I have needs! I can just imagine he's mentally preparing a lecture for me, too. I just couldn't help it. Who knew six breasts were better than two, even if they are almost flat? My tail is tucked firmly up, though; despite this chick's beauty, there's still a huge question here.

Who is she? Where did she come from? What do we do with her – and her dog-man pal?

Okay, maybe there's more than one question here. I'm sure Don has about a thousand of them already, and he's been staring at the concrete like a lunatic. We don't often get to see beautiful women – or mutant women, take your pick. Enjoy it when it happens, bro!

Besides, she didn't seem to mind my appreciation. And it isn't ogling, Leo, it's appreciation! Like a fine art! No one stares at the ground in front of the Mona Lisa.

I bet her fur is really soft. Leo already got to touch it, lucky bastard. I want to shake her hand, too. And maybe rub her head; the fur there is longer and thicker. I wonder if she'd let me. My puppy dog eyes work on Leo, after all.

Leo's POV

"I did not know Master had made terrapin guards as well," the cat-woman says quietly. She steps primly forward, moving gracefully. Her hips sway in a mesmerizing manner but I focus my full attention on her face as she approaches me. I hold still as she reaches forward and touches my plastron. I can faintly feel her index finger's claw tap against it.

"What Master?" Don asks curiously. He finally looks up, cheeks still dark green.

The cat-woman ignores his question and slides her hand around my plastron, feeling where it connects to my skin at my neck. She examines the junction between plates at my stomach. Her hand starts to slide lower and I quickly step back, uncomfortable. She bares her teeth in a mocking grin, yellow eyes amused. Oberon is still panting happily behind her.

Titania picks up my right hand and runs the pads of her hand over my hide; it is pebbly and hard, a sharp contrast to her soft fur and skin. She examines my blunt fingernails – I keep them clipped and rounded – and then wiggles my thumb in its socket. Don watches her examine me with a curious look on his face.

Without apparent modesty, she reaches up and pulls my head down to looks intently into my eyes. I let her, though her scent is quite powerful at such close quarters. I agree with Mikey; she smells like cinnamon candy, but underneath it is a weird scent that reminds me of musty warehouses and run-down homes.

Titania pulls my upper lip away from my teeth, raising an eyebrow at my thick, blunt teeth. I pull my head back, licking my teeth and wiggling my lips back over them. She walks around behind me; when I turn to follow, she stills me with a hand on my elbow and examines my shell. The cat-woman raps on it with her knuckles and then bends down to sniff it closely, looking closely at several scars on it.

"Hey!" I yelp when she tries to grab my tail, her hand brushing the lower lip of my shell. I jump away and spin to face her again. Oberon's friendly pant stops and his shoulder fur begins rising again. Titania stills him with a glance and his fur smooths back out.