I saw your Fic Requests have opened up, and while Monster Girls are nothing new for you of work, here’s a twist you might enjoy: Nemean Lion Girl, Oral, (possible Petplay/Primal?)
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The schedule before me was a firing squad.
There were our names, all lined up. Nice and neat. I’d say we were ready to die, but we weren’t. Death was one of those things expected here, but often delayed. So often that the risk of our work fades-right until shifts are posted.
Barry, with his pot belly and doughnut, stands beside me. He eyes the slip from over his bifocals, and takes another bite. The red smeared at his fingers looks like blood. Just for a second, though. I’d seen plenty of that here to know the difference. He suckles it away, then pushes his glasses up.
“Huh, nine-nine-nine again. Nice,” he says. He leans forward, and hooks his fingers into the loops of his pants. “And you got-oof,”
“Yeah. I know,” I say. I take a deep breath, and turn from the wall. Barry lobs the last bite of his doughnut in his mouth. I hear his heels squeak as he turns and waddles alongside me. Teeth smacking, he says “Hey now-it’s not so bad. I mean, it could be six-eight-two, right? Or even oh-seven-nine, or-”
“Or I could be D-class,” I said with a snort. The hall before us seems to stretch on infinitely. A white marble artery, bisected by crosswalks and checkpoints. Every door needs a key card, and most have guards before them. They’re something out of a television show, supplanted right here.
They don’t so much as stir as we walk by. They did, once upon a time. But Barry and I had crossed them so many damn times now.
Barry snorts, his short legs just a pace or two behind. “Well, yeah. Thank goodness for that felinology degree, eh? You know, you never told me,”
“Told you what?”
“What college actually offers that. I mean, zoology I get. We’ve tons of zoologists here, but you’re awfully spe-”
I held up a hand, but I didn’t stop walking. “Barry, c’mon. I utter a word, and you and I get clean up duty for oh-four-nine. Shit’s classified. I mean hell, I don’t even know if your name is Barry, okay?”
Barry pauses for a moment. He stands there until he’s about ten paces behind me. I turn the corner, and hear him huffing. A second later, he’s sweating out of the corner of my right eye. I smile, and give a sigh as we approach the elevator.
“Got your key card?” I say.
Barry wordlessly pulls it from his side, and gets behind me.
“I mean, I get it. Classified. Bust still-it’s just convenient. That’s your degree, and it just so happens you get-”
“I didn’t choose my assignment,” I try to say, swiping my card through the reader. It gives a ding, and the doors part. I step inside, and they slam shut with a speed that could clip you. Barry gives an eye roll, and swipes his card. He’s in before the doors even part.
“I mean, I know, but like-it’s just convenient. You get her, and she chose you. It’s nice, you know? It’s nice it worked out like that,”
The doors slam shut from the sides again. Barry jumps, but I don’t say anything. He sighs, and clips his key-card back to his waist. The elevator lurches, and descends on a whisper. The lights flicker all of a moment as the tube echoes with the rush of gears and wind.
“She smelled it last time,”
Barry blinks at the door, and turns to me. He pushes his glasses up, and stands there quiet for a moment. “She-she smelled something on you? What was it?”
I smirk, and for a second I think about telling him.
I almost spill the beans right there. Risk getting scuttled to D class. Hell, I might as well. It’s not like I’d felt the sun, or felt air that hadn’t been piped in in a year.
The elevator stops, and the doors slide to the side. Barry steps pass the doors, and turns his head back to me. “Hey, uh-Tommy? It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Always is, right?”
“You’re assigned to the tickle monster. Of course you’re going to be alright,” I reply.
Barry lifts a chubby finger to say something. Then the doors slam shut, the elevator lurches once more. And I go down, down, down.
@@@
Felinology is precisely as it sounds.
Cats. I wanted to study cats. Specifically snow leopards. They’re these elusive things, all sleek and gray. Uncanny eyesight, sense of smell. If they so much as catch a whiff of you, they’re gone. Already on another mountain by the time you catch up. One of my colleagues worked for Nat-geo. Got a massive grant to go photograph them. He couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin off long enough to tell me. Took off to Mongolia on a prop plane pregnant with gear. He set up his timed shutters, sensors, everything.
In two years he got six shots. Six. So this colleague, he calls me up. The shit eating grin is gone. He’s giving me word-salad as he says “Fuckin-god damned fucking cats, how the FUCK do they know?! HOW?”
“Know what?”
“That I’m tracking them! I swear to fucking christ, they know. It can’t be the smell. I’m fucking drowning in urine, alright? We all fucking reek of amonia-”
“Look, you’re-” I say, only to stop. He’s full tilt fever-delirium, every word just smacking against the next.
“You don’t get it-I read your work, okay? I read your shit, and I’m doing everything you said. And they’re still fucking ducking the cameras. It’s not normal. The shots we got-the shots were lucky,” he says.
He’s breathing so hard the static on the line flares. I opened my mouth to say something, then shut it. I clenched my jaw, and took a deep breath. I close my eyes, and let out a long exhale before I speak.
“Okay, so what exactly are you asking me for here? Because I’m not there, and it’s not like I can afford to be there. I ate nothing but top ramen for a month,”
“Can I send you the shots?” he says, a faint decibel of normalcy returning. “I just-look, they were lucky and we’ll run them, but I-they’re not right, okay? So can I send them to you?”
“I think maybe you just need to get out of Mongolia for a while,” I chide back. I got up from my desk, and left my study for the kitchen. Just as I reached the coffee pot, he cursed.
“I’m fine. Fucking just-look, I’m going to send them to your email. If this is-if there’s something here, just tell me. I just-look, it’s the grant alright? It didn’t come from the university. I got approached,” he says, every syllable lowering.
I pause, my fingers wrapped around the carafe. “Yeah? So?”
There’s a ruffle on the other end. The faint sound of the wind, so palpable before, disappears. A tent. He’s in his tent, I thought.
“This ain’t some two-bit environmental group, alright? They-it’s not about the snow leopards, I don’t think. I’m sending the pics now. Just give them a once over-for me, okay? Can you do that?”
“Yes, just let me get my damned coffee,” I say, the carafe already tipped. A few drops meet the blue formica of my counter, but the rest land true. I hear what sounds like a sigh of relief on the other end.
“Thank you-thank you a million times, thank you,” he says. The line drops. I slip my phone into my black terry-cloth robe, and grip my mug. I hobble my way back to my study, cutting a glance at my watch. One-thirty Am. I wonder, just for a moment, what the time was in Mongolia. I finally made it to my desk, my office chair squeaking beneath me. I lift the lid of my laptop, and open my email.
Six shots in all. A tail here, a muzzle there. A single clear shot of an entire leopard. They’re not great-it’s amateur shit for what he’s getting. But it’s only when I click the last picture I stop. It’s hind leg and tail-the contrast close and high. A flash tripped by a sensor. The leopard takes up most of the frame-but it’s past that I see something. It’s just a blur, but it’s there all the same.
Yellow. Two perfect yellow circles.
I leaned back in my chair, and stare at the photo for a moment. They’re just a few pixels wide, but it’s enough. Enough for my eyes to focus, to find the rest of it. A dark shape set against the moon-rock gray of the terrain. I lean forward and squint, but can’t make out more than that.
Not in that shot at any rate.
I click back through the rest and embrace eye strain. I embrace the fancies of sleep deprivation. Most of the time, with research ops like this-you get something. Even the most elusive creatures will nail you a handful of shots. Even given it was snow leopards, this guy should have had more. The only thing that dwelt in that habitat were goats and cats.
At least that’s what I thought. Not for long, though.
Because in every single photo, I started to find it. The eyes, the shape. It gained definition and volume in the foreground. Always there, always on a higher place. One cup of coffee turned into a full pot.
Because this colleague of mine?
He was right.
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She had smelled it last time.
I didn’t have the faintest idea how. The research division gave it the strictest olfactory parameters. It had been utterly odorless to all known mammalian species. Yet she had managed it. It didn’t fucking matter anyways-she still pounced. Claws out, the tips piercing my button up with ease. Her tongue had lapped against the back of my neck as I met the floor. She vibrated against me as she asked, “New toy?”
I’d only grunted. She laughed, and kept on licking.
A poison that we had spent eighteen months researching. Something she wasn’t supposed to smell, or taste. They’d even found a way to spread it on me without it affecting me. A brilliant idea, really.
She took it as an excuse to clean me.
Every inch of me.
This was after knives, guns, lazers. After mountains of paperwork to test other subjects on her. The Oh-Fives? They started to get scared. They were worried we had another “reptile” on our hands. They held closed door meetings, all that. When they finally consented to use others in containment, you could feel the walls sigh with relief. Surely, we all thought, there’s got to be something that could kill her.
That’s when I was contacted.
I found out later it wasn’t protocol. Involving people post-amnestics like that. Especially people so close to initial discoveries. But they realized what I studied, and what her reaction had been when we’d met. Her “special interest” in me.
They-the Oh-Fives-refused to use her term. Most days, I did too. Detachment and research. That was the job, and something I couldn’t accomplish by going native. The foundation had made it quite clear from day one. Some doctor-I believe his name was Bright-had just smiled merrily as he said they could clone me. That they would make a copy so perfect even my mother wouldn’t know. When I laughed, the smile dropped.
“What’s so funny?” Bright had said, “I’m serious. It’s even in the employee handbook,”
I’d humored him, and looked.
I wish I hadn’t.
I’d wished for so many things in the last few months. Natural sunshine, clean air. But of all the things I wanted, having stayed ignorant remained chief among them. As the doors to the elevator opened, I took a deep breath. I stepped over the threshold, the doors shutting behind me. I made my way down a corridor identical to the one I’d just been in. Every footfall echoed against the walls in a dull rhythm. It was one I kept count to.
One two, one two.
The hall, unlike the ones above, was straight. It went forward, and terminated at another set of doors. I waved a keycard, and they parted silently. I stepped inside a room I practically had memorized by this point. Blank walls, fluorescent bulbs that were a poor excuse for natural light. A northern wall dominated by a single two-foot thick pane of glass. Towards the right of it was another key-card locked door. But beyond the glass itself was nothing but trees, vines and rock.
Something a bit more comfortable than Mongolia.
Thomas-a junior researcher-sat at a terminal reading a paperback. He didn’t have his feet propped on the desk today. As I approached, he only pulled from his book when my footfalls grew too loud to ignore. He placed the paper back on the desk, and pushed his glasses up. Moby Dick, as it turns out.
“Oh, hey. Bit late today aren’t we?” he said.
“Five minutes is more than excusable in a place like this. She ate?” I said.
Thomas nodded, and jerked a thumb at the terminal.
“Ate about three AM last night. Antelope, like you stipulated. No idea how they got it here, but they did. It made it maybe thirty, forty feet? She was on it, man. Must have really been hungry. Soooooo, uh. Are we-” Thomas said, raising an eyebrow. I shook my head, and took a step towards the glass.
“No, no testing today. It’s just an interview. Nothing more,”
“Oh. Right,” said Thomas, grabbing his book. He cleared his throat, and rose from the chair. His hand tittered on the keyboard, and he turned towards me. He gave a slight nod, and ran his free hand over his shaved head. “Well then, I’ll give you two some privacy. You uh-sure you don’t want some guards, or-”
“She will never hurt me. But thank you,”
“Okie dokie,” said Thomas. He turned on his heel, and sped-walked towards the doors. A wave of a keycard, and he was gone.
I approached the door in the glass, eyes wide for the subtle sway of bush. A sprung branch, anything. Nothing stirred in the grass beyond. Not so much as a verdant blade swayed. I lifted my keycard, and listened to the hiss of the airlock. I stepped in, and waited for the lock to click back into place before another set of doors. The space was roughly the size of a closet.
Plenty of room for the machine gun mounted to the ceiling. Totally useless, but a nice touch. I eyed it as the doors in front of me hissed open. I stepped forward, eyes focused into the dark green embrace of brush. The doors shut once more, and humidity overwhelmed me.
It was artificial. Like the air outside, like the light. But it was enough to sustain the plants within, which certainly weren’t fake. She took to them far more than the plastics that had once been there. Couple those with a scheduled sprinkler system that mimicked the greek isles, and it was close. It wasn’t home-she knew, we knew. But she had enough space to pretend.
I started walking, the ground sticking to every step. There had been “rainfall” recently-covering my tracks would be pointless. I stopped about ten paces in. I closed my eyes, and breathed through my nose.
All I smelled was jungle rot and blood. I turned, and the latter grew stronger. I began to walk through the mud and dirt, careful to avoid the clasp of roots.
The cave on the far wall, it had been some researchers idea. “Oh, lions live in caves, right?” they had said. When I pointed out that our only surviving comparison to a greek lion lived in the open plains of the savannah, they went quiet. The cave went in all the same-and she had taken to it. I suppose she thought it poetic because of Heracles. Maybe she just wanted to play along. Either way, that researcher had pestered me about it every day.
As I drew closer, I gazed towards the mouth of it. Dark rock crafted with such care it looked natural. I had to give it to them. Sure, it was unnecessary. But it looked damn good.
I walked until I was twenty, fifteen, ten feet away. I stuck a hand into my pants pocket, my badge loose at my hip. I pulled the recorder out, and glanced in it’s window. The tape was spooled to the left, and ready to go. The Oh-Fives insisted on the medium-too many anomalies could screw with digital. At least, that’s what I’d been told. I clicked record, and raised it to my face.
“Senior research lead Syzygos, here with subject One-Nine-Three-Dash-Oh-Zero. More commonly known as the ‘nemean lion’. The time is four-thirty two PM, and I am going to conduct interview seventeen-”
There came a thud behind me. Not a twitter of branch, not the scuttle of bush. A thud. I felt my pulse rise, but I knew better than to turn. Better than to inhale sharply, than to let her see. I exhaled, and said “Please, state your name for the record,”
“Agapetos, you’re thin. You come for a cleaning, but not a meal? Eat with me. Please?”
I give a dry swallow, eyes forward on the cave. I shake my head, and try not to let the recorder tremble. “No, I don’t think that I will. And again, I need you to state your-”
“Γαμώτο! You know my name! Why must I repeat it so?”
I roll my tongue over my lips, and close my eyes. Tone, I remind myself. Tone will betray you. I parted my lips again, and tried to speak.
Only to stop as two lithe paws slipped around my waist. They were humanoid enough-only five fingers, not like some here. But it was the thick padding and the fine golden hairs that caught on my shirt. It was the claws that dragged against the cotton as her chin met my shoulder. As she clutched me to her, heat radiating with every pur into my back.
I held the breath in my throat. Kept it from hitching long enough for the blood to slow in my veins. Just long enough for my brain to stop firing on all cylinders, a chaos pervading calm.
“Good day Calysta. You seem in good spirits,” I said.
“Better now that you’re here, λάγνος. Did you bring more toys for me today? I do so love to play with you,” she said.
Her paw flexed, claws tickling against my stomach. They retracted as her hand slid, and gripped my-
“No, no trials today. I’m here to interview you. To make sure your needs are met. Are they?”
She let out a laugh, a throaty noise that echoed right in my ear. I closed my eyes as her tail circled around my leg, searching for the edge of my pants. A pawed foot appeared next to mine as she rounded me. I kept my eyes shut, just as tight as I could. I clenched my jaw as she reached for my chin. I held it in-I did a great job until I felt her whiskers against my lips.
She held hers against mine for all of ten seconds. She pulled back for half a moment, then kissed me again. All the while, the recorder rolled. When she finally stopped, I lifted my lids at last.
Her golden eyes were beautiful and wide, like a sun bisected by the void.
“I kissed you like your γυναίκες do. Will you stay longer?” she said.
The recorder, still hovering right below my chin, it started to shake. I flicked it off.
“I will-but you have to promise me we’ll complete the interview. Or I won’t be able to see you again. Is that understood?” I said.
Calysta answered by rolling her tongue right over my face. She laughed as her padded hands once again slipped around me. “Always about business, όμορφος. But yes, I will talk into the little box. But only if you stay,”
“Then I suppose I will,” I said. I sighed, and slipped the recorder into my pocket. Calysta let out a rumbling purr, and pressed her head to my chest. Right over my heart. As she squeezed me, I finally lifted my arms. I placed them across her shoulders, and held tight. My fingers slid into the soft down of her golden mane as I inhaled deeply.
I’d found the scent I had been looking for.
I tilted my head, and kissed the top of hers. She lifted her face, and gave a smile as our eyes met. A paw met a button at my collar, and her fingers fumbled at it.
“αγάπη μου, would you kindly?” she said. I grunted, and flicked my collar open. Then the next, and the next after that. My shirt met the damp earth, and the rest followed. Calysta purred loudly when I was finally naked, and gripped my hand. She turned towards the cave, and gave a tug at my wrist.
“Come. There’s still meat, if you so want,”
“I think I’ll pass,” I replied.
Calysta chirped, and shook her shaggy head. “Still only enjoy it if it’s cooked? You’re a strange one husband,”
“I’m not-” I started, only to stop as I jerked quickly into the mouth of the artificial cave.
@@@
She at least let me remove the antelope carcass. It wasn’t that the gore bothered me. I’d grown numb to it working here, and even before with cats. It wasn’t even it’s proximity to us. The cave was so cramped that I kept bumping against it.
It was the lack of maggots. The surreality of it got me every time. I’d tried talking to the higher ups, tried telling them it would make things more “natural”. But they had yet to understand. So. There weren’t maggots, weren’t any other predators. No prey, save for feeding time and the occasional researcher that stayed too long. Nothing within this world we had made for her save Calysta herself.
And me, when I was called.
Over the last few months, Calysta called for me nearly every day.
I’d tried explaining to her. But words like “anomaly” and “subject” rolled like slurs when I said them to her. So I told the truth instead. Hi. You’re big and scary. We need to know how to kill you in case you get the bright idea to kill all of us.
I’d gotten reamed for that. But Calysta? She just laughed and asked if I’d be the one to test. When my boss saw that on tape, I got assigned permanently. He patted me on the back, eyes wide over his spectacles.
“Oh, she sees an equal. Good, that’s good,” he had said. He squeezed my shoulder, and pushed his glasses up. Back then, this cell had been just that. An empty room, with fake air and those damned lights. Calysta had paced it endlessly, her eyes always towards the glass. Golden and flickering between the team like a camp fire-then settling on me. She would smile, and roll her tongue against her lips.
Then she’d pace forward, and stand on her hind legs. Everyone in the observation deck would hold still, their eyes on her. She, with her black slits widening, staring me down as hard as she could.
Before I went in that first time, I wrote a will. Not that it was of any value-the foundation would deny it all, but I did it all the same. I left the few things in my bunk to Barry, whatever his actual name might be. He had been nice to me from day one. It seemed right. Then a year passed, and I forgot about it until I found it in the back of my desk. The foundation eased, and started to agree to habitation procedures. As long as I was around, as long as I was walking, they would do almost anything she needed.
There was just one catch. I had to try and kill her so often. It never worked, but Calysta and I made a show for them all the same. The higher ups would gnash their teeth, damn near pull their hair out. Then I’d find myself right back here again.
In a cave that smelled like blood. Calysta’s paws cupping my dick, her tongue rolling against my neck.
“αγάπη μου, please” she purred as she dragged her fanged teeth on my ear lobe, “-please, for me? I’ve missed you so,”
Her purring would rise in volume, shaking my ribs as her head lowered. Her tongue rolled wet and hot against my stomach. It was rough-all cat’s tongues were-but it wasn’t unpleasant. Her claws trailed along, every muscle grip twitching beneath them.
“You’re not like them,” she whispered, “Not like them at all. I’m not some παιχνίδι to you,”
She looked up at me, her lips so close to my cock I felt every exhale. Then she opened her maw, the pink tongue lolling forward to engulf me. I gasped as my hands curled into fists-the first licks were always the worst. I breathed out, and relaxed my grip as her head bobbed. I raised a shaking hand, my fingers sifting through her mane as my hips rolled.
“Well, you’re not a toy. You never were,” I said, the last word shaking. Her eyes widened and met mine as my girth hit the back of her throat. She chuckled, and I felt every bit of mirth along my dick. She pulled her head back, her teeth trailing along gently. I passed her lips with a pop, and a smile. She crawled forward, the massive pads of her paws pinning me beneath her. Her cunt rubbed against me, the fur slick and warm.
My cock twitched, and smacked against her. She gave a yelp, then bent low.
The kiss was savage, wet and primal.
Pressing within her was no different.
She snarled against my ear, her paws clutching my back as she bucked. Her hips smacked against mine, her teeth sinking into my shoulder. I lifted my legs, and hooked my ankles in the small of her back. I clenched my jaw-to keep from cumming, to fight out the pain of the bite. But most of all, it was to hold back the building moan in my throat.
I kept it in until Calysta lifted her muzzle, lips wet with my blood. She kissed my cheek, and purred as she spoke.
“Inside σύζυγος, no where else. Not this time, please?”
What else could I do?
It was my job, after all.
I had to make sure she was happy.
@@@
Today, the blood looks blue.
Barry smacks his lips as he scarfs another jammy doughnut. We’re looking at the schedule, and he just shakes his head.
“Man, nine months. That’s rough-she still leaving scratches on you?”
“Oh yeah,” I said. I tried to hold in the smirk, but it came before I could fight it.
Barry shook his head, and jabbed a sugar coated finger at me. “Ya’ know, weird that she asexually reproduces innit? I mean, it’s kinda crazy, but it makes sense. She’s what, the last of her breed? Probably a life cycle thing, right?” he says. He wipes his hand on his shirt, and we turn towards the double doors. The guards don’t even move.
“Oh yeah, totally. That’s gotta be it,” I say. I’m full on grinning now, but Barry doesn’t seem to notice.
“But you know, like? That’s job security man. Gah, I wish I’d got a felinology degree now. You really hit the jackpot there,”
“Yep. It’s a good thing too-I’ve got a family to provide for,” I say.
Barry stops dead in his tracks, and looks at me. His face is a mix of confusion, understanding and shock. Then he hikes back up towards me, huffing as his belly bounces. “Oh yeah? I never knew that. How old are they?”
“Oh, just my partner now. But she’s-ya know. Any day now,” I say.
Our keycards come out, and smack at the lock. We make our way towards the elevator. As we’re standing in front of it, Barry smacks a hand on my shoulder. I turn, and he’s actually smiling. Like he just got off shift with the Tickle Monster.
“Well dude, that’s great! Hey, uh, let me know when it happens. We’ll like, do something. I don’t know what we can do around here for fun, but we will okay? And uh-”
Barry pulled his hand back, and jutted it at my chest.
“John. My name is John Nobody,”
I raise an eyebrow, and start to laugh. But I take his hand all the same, and give it a firm shake.
“Well mister Nobody, it’s good to meet you. Have fun on your shift, okay?”
“You too man,” said Barry, pulling his hand away. The smile stays, even as I step into the elevator.
“You too,”