"Khan!" Gazelle gasped, gripping the remains of her cherry-red top. The backup dancer cornered her, a red glint in his feline eyes. A low growl rumbled in his throat, but it was a sound unlike anything Gazelle had heard before. It was deep. Primal. The sort of thing you'd hear in a prehistoric documentary. And then she knew from the burning need in his gaze... Khan had gone savage.
"Oh no, Khan please..." she begged softly. Was he going to eat her? Would he start with a bite? Another swipe of his claws? Those talons would shred into her as easily as they'd torn her blouse. Heart racing, terrified, she put up a trembling arm to try to protect her throat, and tried darting off to the side.
Gazelle let out a sharp cry, hoping that one of her other tigers could hear it. Luke? Caden? Oh Danny, please! Please save me! But Khan snatched her by the arm and threw her roughly against the couch cushions, pressing her firmly into the velvet. His nails dug into her flesh, and the muscular weight of his body bore down on her hindquarters.
She was still trembling when Khan leaned in, and his growl took on a different timbre. There was a heat to it, a desire. Something different from hunger or rage. A warm, rough tongue slid along the length of her elegant neck, his breath was hot and humid against her fur. A wild tingle began to ran through her too.
"Oh Khan..." she gasped, not out of fear this time, but eager anticipation. It would've been a lie to say that she'd never thought about this... how many times had she watched her lovely boys practice, watched them stretch and twirl, striped tails trailing behind them, in that lean and graceful way you could only ever see in a pred? Their patterned fur overlaid rippling muscles. Glitter dusted them along muzzles and shoulders and along broad, bare chests. Their slashed shorts would glimmer with sequins, coyly hiding the firmness that lay beneath.
Gazelle gasped, heart still fluttering with a trace of fear, when Khan's thick, meaty paw ran down the side of her body and cupped her-
"HEY QUIT THUMPING OVER THERE!"
Judy let out a gasp, slamming her laptop shut as Pronk's voice boomed through the paper-thin wall. The framed photos of her family rattled against the wallpaper at his shouting. Well, it could've been Bucky. It was hard to tell the two apart when they started up like this.
She pressed her foot against the leg of her chair to keep it from hammering into the floor, and clapped her paws to her mouth in embarrassment. Her nose was twitching, and her foot spasmed with the reflexive urge to keep thumping. Oh sweet cheese and crackers she hoped her neighbors didn't figure out what she was doing.
She'd just come back home, still buzzing with the afterglow of the concert and the pint of carrot beer Nick had treated her to at the bar. After changing she'd thought to settle in and look up Gazelle's new album on Zoogle, but well... somehow she'd wandered into a little corner of the web she hadn't been to before. At first she was just curious about the predophile fanfic, in that slightly morbid fascination kinda way. But after chuckling and shaking her head at the first few (really badly written) entries she felt herself drawn into one titled "Tiger Tiger, Burning Bright."
For a moment she thought about opening her laptop back up and finishing it, see how the story ended. Suddenly self-conscious though she didn't think she could look at it quite the same way now. It'd probably be better to just close the window and scrub her browser history. Yeah that's-
Her cellphone rang.
Judy fumbled for it so badly that she nearly dropped it, but caught the profile photo of Nick and his smug little grin staring back at her as she swiped to accept the call.
"Hey Carrots, I thought you were gonna text me when you got home?" She caught a hint of Nick's sleepy yawn on the other end.
"Oh, ha! Sorry I just... um..."
"You go running or something?"
Judy was breathing heavily, though it was only partly because she'd been caught unaware twice now. She laughed nervously. "Ha ha! Yeah, I... yeah. Just went for a late night run. Nothing like a few laps around the block to help you sleep at night! Woo!"
"You sure that's safe? Your neighborhood's a little..."
"I can take care of myself, Nick. Besides it's not like your place is uptown Savannah Central."
"Yeah well I've got ten years of street smarts on you, sweetheart," Nick said dryly, "But listen, I was thinking maybe we could treat Benjy to dinner on Friday. You know, thank him for the concert tickets."
"Oh. Oh sure! Got an idea for where?"
"Yeah there's this burger place downtown. Giraffa's Grille."
Judy opened up her laptop and looked it up quickly, skipping over the browser tab that was still open. As much as she trusted Nick in everything else, he was usually more comfortable around the slummy areas of the city, and that just wouldn't do. It was a pleasant surprise to see Giraffa's located in a nice, well-lit neighborhood with clean storefronts and rows of palm trees. There was even a bookstore sandwiched between a gelato place and a coffee shop. The restaurant was way more upscale than Bug-Burga or the deli next to the station and had plenty of herbivore options. Quinoa and spinach patties, basil and tomato sauce on truffle polenta...
"Wow, Nick. How'd you find this place?"
"You should realize by now, Carrots. I know everybody, and that includes some of the best restaurant owners in town. So it sound good then?"
"Great! Is Benjy bringing anyone?"
"Well you know the rumors between him and the guys he gets on stage with..."
"Oh stop it, Nick. He says it's his twin brother."
"Uh huh. One that no one in the precinct has ever seen or heard of. Plus every time a tiger that looks exactly like him comes onstage he's off duty and nowhere to be seen."
"I can't believe it. The guy's too straight-laced." It was no exaggeration. Benjy Kaplan never spoke much. He usually kept his head down, focused on his work while nursing a cup of black coffee. He had a perpetually bored look on his face and rarely cracked a smile, and always did things by the book. But then again he did seem to spend most of his free time at the department gym on his own. At first Judy thought it was just him being a fitness buff, or simple vanity, but if he needed to stay in shape to perform onstage...
"It's all just an act to throw us off the trail," said Nick. "I mean, imagine what the Chief would say if they caught him moonlighting as a stripper."
"Backup dancer," Judy corrected. It couldn't be. It'd be the worst lie ever, for one. After all, if the Chief hadn't bought the twin explanation, after a quick look on Ewetube Benjy would've been stuck in Records next to the boiler room until he retired.
"Tell you what, Carrots. Let's make a bet on this. If he can bring this twin brother of his to dinner, I'll cover the drinks. He doesn't, it's all on your tab."
Judy hesitated. She could hear the smugness in Nick's voice, and whenever he got like this she could never back down.
"Deal," she said with a wince. Judy just hoped she was right, and that she didn't just put her humiliation on layaway this time.
.
.
The flick of a lighter cast a warm glow over the panther's muzzle.
"Pass that over here, will you?"
Cal took a few puffs of the catnip joint before passing it to Oliver. Curls of blue-gray smoke curled from the tip. The air at the Pack Street stop always tasted sweet: moist and lush from the Rainforest District just beyond the wall.
It was chilly though, and Cal pulled his varsity jacket tight.
"You guys have no culture," said Milo, clicking his tongue. "That's primo nip right there. You gotta appreciate the aroma before you light up. Kinda... lemony and grassy. Real sweet."
"Dude, shut up. We're gonna get all the culture we need tonight." Cal growled. Typical Milo. The guy could be so stuck-up. Unlike him or Oliver, Milo had grown up in the midtown part of the Rainforest District. His parents tried so hard to be classy: going to the community theater every couple months, brand name clothes, daily trips to Snarlbucks. Fact is it didn't fool anyone. Cal could smell the desperation on 'em, as if five-dollar cups of coffee could cover up the stink of the slums they'd clawed out of. Good thing Milo had him and Oliver to keep him grounded. Once a slum cat, always a slum cat. It was best to keep that in mind.
"How's the shoulder?" asked Oliver.
"Feels fine. Told ya bro, didn't feel a thing. Hornsby though..."
"Dude, that was AWESOME!" Milo belted out, laughing. "His eyes went wide as dinner plates, man! Sure as fuck didn't expect to get slammed like that!"
Even though it was the umpteenth time he'd heard it, Cal still basked in the praise as they continued down the street. Fact is, no one expected the brutal pileup of three cats on the Rough Riders' star quarterback five minutes into the game. Each of them was maybe a fifth of Hornsby's weight. Yet when the dust settled, the three of them got back up, and Hornsby had to be carried out on a stretcher. The Riders' game never recovered.
Cal had barely even felt the impact. His instincts had taken over, and for a moment every one of his senses had seemed sharper than before. He could smell the fresh-cut grass more keenly, feel the muted vibrations of Hornsby's pounding strides through his own paws. His heart was drumming in his ears, the blood was hot in his veins. For a moment he'd gone down on all fours, and he was amazed at how the wind felt in his exposed fur when he ran like that. And then came the pounce, the impact, the feeling of his body slamming against hard, fleshy weight. In that instant he'd felt the urge to use his claws.
Cal grinned to himself, remembering the shocked looks on the remaining Rough Riders when he got up. Shock and fear, and the hope for an unbroken series of wins draining from their eyes. God that was such a sweet moment... hopefully someone caught it on camera. He never knew how exciting it was to see fear.
Cal's paw slid into his pocket then, and pulled out a small plastic case the size of his thumb. Popping it open revealed the small paper-thin tabs, each taking on a turquoise glow in the dim yellow light of the streetlamps.
"Dude, shouldn't you save those for the next game?" Oliver asked, coughing a bit. Puffs of smoke blew from his nostrils as he passed the joint to Milo, but neither he nor Milo seemed as interested in the catnip now.
"Relax, I still got another case. Plus my guy's pretty reliable." Pulling out one of the tabs he laid it on his tongue. It dissolved instantly, releasing a faint sweetness that reminded him of licorice. The familiar tingle hit him then, spreading through his mouth and blooming along his scalp. He gave an involuntary shiver as it crackled down his spine, and like a bolt of lightning on a moonless night, it lit up his senses.
His heartbeat quickened. He clenched one paw, then the other, feeling the raw strength that was flowing into every muscle fiber. The sensation burned through him in a flush of prickling heat, lighting up every nerve in his body.
Thanks to the Blue the three of them had been MVPs that day, and that meant star treatment. The other players had traded paw-bumps in the locker room and slapped their asses playfully in the showers, and when they got out with their fur still damp and the steam curling from their bodies, there were the cheerleaders lined up and blushing.
Naturally, Cal got first pick.
It didn't matter that the other guys were hooting and hollering and cheering them on. It didn't matter that they were yelling bawdy suggestions about what he should be doing with his paws or tail or tongue. It didn't even matter that Milo... awkward, virgin Milo, was flustered and kept looking at him, as if for guidance. He'd never felt so alive.
"Yo, Cal. Gimme one of those too," Oliver said, nudging him in the ribs.
Cal grinned and let him take a slip of Blue. He and Oliver had known each other since they were kittens. They'd slept over at each others' houses, hung out after school, swiped booze and even experimented a bit in their teens. The guy didn't even need to ask
"Can I?" asked Milo. He leaned in, grinning, and eager glint in his eyes.
"What about that 'primo nip' you got there?" Cal teased, nodding at the joint in Milo's paw. With the Blue pumping through him he felt a bit more mischievous. More butch. God, this guy really was a hanger-on wasn't he? The fastest runner on the team sure, but right now with the buzz running through Cal's veins Milo looked so damn small.
"Well, I-I just..." Milo fumbled.
"I'm just fuckin' with ya, man," Cal laughed, letting him take a slip too. Just in time, he quickly tucked it back into his pocket as a tiger in a sleeveless hoodie and shorts walked past them. Dude was pretty stacked, probably a cop. Then again, if anything went wrong the three of them could've taken Stripey down easily.
Just like they did to Hornsby.
The club's neon sign glowed steadily, silver-blue with the outline of a female antelope pole-dancing in hot pink on the side. It was just on the edge of the newly gentrified district, on the tail end of the rows of restaurants and boutiques. They could hear the commotion of the Friday night crowd, but the club's entrance was along the back alley. Just enough discretion for its patrons.
Sure, the girls they'd bred just last night had worked out some of their urges, but there was nothing like another bit of sweetness as a chaser. Especially when it came to the lush, more developed gals that worked at the Lone Digger.
The bouncer was a thickly built buffalo that towered over the three of them. Cal flashed his best shit-eating grin. The bouncer grunted, the breath steaming out of his nostrils in the cold night air. They passed over their IDs and the entrance fee for each of 'em. The Lone Digger was notoriously easy to get into: they hired bouncers for muscle, not their eyesight. For a moment the buffalo squinted at the IDs. Cal tensed, trying to keep his tail from flicking back and forth.
"You kids must think I'm a fucking idiot."
"Wh-" Cal started. His tail was standing straight out now, and his fur was standing on end.
"Oh, r-right..." Oliver said quickly, holding out another fifty. "Forgot to cover me, yeah?"
Without a word the bouncer plucked the bill from Oliver's paw, tucking it smoothly into the pocket of his vest. Standing up straight he returned the IDs to the trio.
"I might not be able to read without glasses, but I'm not fucking blind. Next time you numskulls use a fake ID, leave the varsity jackets at home."
The three tucked their ears down and chuckled awkwardly as they entered the club.
Cal had heard the thrum of the music from outside, but now it was a thick bass rhythm that seemed to drum against his chest and vibrate through the pawpads of his feet. Then there was the smell: sweat and booze and cheap cologne. For some mammals it was the smell of a night that'd gone on too long, stretched as thin as their wallets. For Cal and his boys though, it was the smell of the forbidden.
On the stage in the middle of the club was an antelope, stripped down to the fur and dressed only in a slim thong and a pair of pasties on her tits. Cal tried not to gawk. He'd seen more cotton in the top of an aspirin bottle. He normally wasn't the kinda cat to be into prey girls or anything, but with Gazelle topping the lists loads of guys his age have gotten curious. Probably the exact reason why the club owner hired an antelope in fact. Plus if it was a guy into a prey lady, well... that wasn't so bad.
She twisted and bucked to the rhythm that ran through Cal like a second heartbeat. The antelope cupped herself, stroking her chest and down between her legs. Her slim body turned and swayed and her plump hindquarters shook with a lush weightiness in the motions. Cal swallowed, he was salivating so much. Giving Oliver and Milo a nudge though he pulled himself away and sat down at a nearby table to admire the show.
The zebra waitress that passed by took down their order. Cal's eyes slid along her hindquarters as she turned and left. Man, what is it about prey and their asses? Oliver once mused that because it was the thing that predators stared at when they chased prey down in the old days, that's what got preds so excited. It made sense, though the Lone Digger really seemed to be trying hard to turn their straight pred clientele with their selection of service staff.
It was then that Cal noticed the three patrons staring at him and his crew from the other table. Their coats were patterned black and brown, sleeker than your standard timber wolf. Egyptian wolves, probably, not that common around these parts. And unlike the other clientele in their rumpled and beer-stained retail outlet shirts the wolves were dressed in tight, clean business suits. One of them panted in the cramped heat of the club, another nursed his drink. The third took a long drag on a cigarette, and blew a thick smoke ring as he leveled an icy stare straight at Cal.
Without a word the wolf took a case out of his pocket and flicked it open. Pulling the cigarette from his muzzle he pushed up a small blue tab from the case and laid it on his tongue.
Cal laid his ears back. He could feel the fur prickling at the back of his neck. Oliver let out a low growl, and even Milo's muzzle was scrunched up in suspicion.
The waitress returned just in time, apparently not noticing the hostility crackling between the two tables. Setting down three empty shot glasses she filled them with milk. It was the real stuff, not that soy or almond herbivore shit. Putting the wolves out of his mind, Cal took a nice long look at the zebra's rack just as Oliver told her to leave the carafe. He imagined how much more sweet and warm it'd be if he could suck it straight from the tap.
For a while the trio tossed back their shots, purring at the creamy richness playing over their tongues. Before their eyes the antelope continued to gyrate, sweat beading on her lush curves. Her fur appeared violet in the blue and purple lights. She looked all the more exotic for it, like a creature dancing in a mystic forest from another world.
The pulse was pounding in Cal's ears. The music was hammering through every inch of his body. The taste of milk was thick on his tongue, the smell of it rich and nourishing. He felt so alive in this moment, with the trailing buzz of catnip still in him, the tingle of Blue lighting up every neuron in his brain, and the half-naked antelope dancing, neon lights playing over her sweaty body like the tongues of a dozen horny cats.
He shivered then, starting to feel hot down there. Dipping his paw below the table he knocked back the last of the milk, and started to feel himself through his pants...
When the waitress returned with another order of milk on a tray, one of the wolves from the next table stuck his leg out.
She didn't even have a chance to cry out when she fell. The tray flew from her hooves, and time slowed to a crawl as the fresh carafe and three filled shot glasses spun, milk stretching into pearly crescents in the air.
It splashed the three cats square in the muzzles and sprayed over their varsity jackets.
Icy milk crawled down Cal's nose. His ears flattened as the smoldering tension in him burst into a white-hot flame.
"What the FUCK?!" he snarled, throwing the table aside as he strode over to the wolves. They were standing up now too, glaring down at him with yellow eyes. They stank of smoke and whiskey and expensive cologne.
"I don't like the way you fucking smell, kitty."
"Don't call me 'kitty,' shit-for-brains!"
The wolf took another long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke in Cal's face. He was seeing red now... the edges of his vision were tinged with a bloody fog. There was the acrid stench of smoke, the pungent stink of canine, the club's music beating through his body, the taste of milk clinging to his tongue and cold rivulets trickling along the collar of his shirt.
"I'll call you whatever the fuck I want, kitty. You look like you're barely off your mother's tit. You want milk, you crawl back home, curl up in her arm, and suck it straight from her-"
Cal didn't give him a chance to finish. In a flash of sudden, violent rage his claws were out, and he slashed three long gouges across the wolf's neck. Thick streaks of blood cut through the air, and the wolf let out a harsh gurgle as he fell to the dancefloor, spasming and gagging as he died.
In an instant another wolf flew from his seat and leaped over the table, knocking Cal to the ground. Cal snarled, twisting away as the lupine's jaws tried to snap down and take out a hunk of his face, but those daggerlike teeth caught on to an ear instead. The wolf twisted, snarling as he ripped that fuzzy wedge from Cal's scalp.
Screams erupted from all around them, but in the midst of it the antelope continued to dance. Soon, the blue and purple patterns lapping across her skin were interlaced with sprays of blood.