I scowled at the shop window from the passenger seat of Jing’s two-seater. “I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

The fox turned to me, zir ears flat in a frown despite the amusement in zir voice. “Excited, maybe?”

My stomach did a dip and roll to the left. “More like anxious. If this doesn’t work out—”

“If it doesn’t work,” my roommate interrupted, “then you still have something nice to wear.”

“I can’t eat something nice to wear,” I hissed back.

Jing barked a laugh. “If you have something nice to wear, you can get plenty to eat. I can show you how.”

I stuck my tongue out at the fox. “I’m not peddling myself on the street.”

“Not in an outfit from Abeth Xiu, no!” Jing quickly agreed. “We’ll go to the Six Excesses and I’ll introduce you around.”

“That’s not what I meant!” I sputtered in exasperation. “I mean—”

“You mean you don’t like thinking of what you’re doing that way.” Jing’s cheerful intrusions into my thought processes was starting to make my fur itch. “You’re signing on with a high-paying client for a short-term contract contingent on meeting certain performance criteria, one of which is that you can look good in formalwear. That’s nothing like prostitution.”

My ears went flat against my head. Behind me, I could feel my tail trying to crawl between my legs. “I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this. There’s got to be a cheaper option, something that won’t set me back half my savings.”

Jing shook zir head quickly. “If this client is everything you’ve said zie is, zie’ll know quality at a moment’s notice, and zie won’t appreciate those business suits you wear. That means trying to rent a Dennison or buy a Xiu, and either would be the same price. This way, at least, you have something to show for it afterwards.”

Many thanks to Turbine Divinity for awesome cover art, Jessie for beautiful layout and design, Kincaid for exemplary editing and endless rounds of polish, and Fuzzwolf and Teiran for running such a great shop! And of course to all my readers who followed along! You’re all about to see the final product, and to see the super-special epilogue to the book that wasn’t on the website. That’s right! Bonus material for you if you buy the hardcopy! What a deal!

Word is still out on 3-Day’s impressions of Only Human, and Beyond the Wall is still struggling to cohere beyond some clever visualizations, but I think I may actually have a line on my next full novel. Shock and horror, it might not be furry. It will, however, have shapeshifters, because who doesn’t like shapeshifters? Nobody, that’s who.

Maggie Elden wasn’t sweating, at least not visibly; her trademark pastel pink starched skirt-suit was as crisp as a bite of Granny Smith apple. Everything about her screamed “professional grandmother,” from her white Daisy Dukes to her perfect denturework. Every time she flashed that pearly smile at the audience, I could feel my approval rating drop another two points. She waved like the Queen of England and addressed every questioner as “dear.” She fought fire with marshmallows, answering every policy question with a personal anecdote. She was old enough to have seen it all, too old to worry about petty things, and wise enough to know just what was best for the 44th Congressional District.

The only part of her that didn’t look like somebody’s great-aunt were her eyes; they glittered like rock candy above her gently amused smile, and they bored into my forehead whenever the cameras turned to me. The instant I started to speak, I felt like she was just waiting for the excuse to wash my mouth out with soap on prime time television. I wasn’t normally a stutterer, but every complete sentence without a stammer was a minor success and every “um” sent a fresh rivulet of sweat down my back.

Sam Walters, KMOD’s evening anchor and one of my supporters until fifty-eight minutes ago, turned to the audience and nodded slowly, his face solemn and sincere; he wasn’t sweating either. “Well, the race for the State Senate certainly has been a campaign of opposites so far,” he intoned. “We’ve got time for one more question in this debate, this one from an online submitter.” Across the bottom of the monitor showing the live feed, text scrolled across the ticker, which he read aloud. “Have you had a Malthus Exam, and if so, what was the result?” As he spoke, he turned to face me. “Let’s start with the incumbent. Congressman White?”

Maggie Elden’s rock-candy eyes drilled into my skull as I took a deep breath to buy time while I composed my thoughts. “That’s a… well, it’s a very personal question,” I started, staring at a point just to the left of Walters’ head, while the red light of the camera glared in my peripheral vision. “It touches on issues of personal liberty and privacy, both of which I consider very important.”

Sam’s eyebrows snapped upwards, but he nodded slowly, as if I’d actually just answered the question. “So, you’re saying that you haven’t been tested, then?”

His gently rising question was a lifeline and I grabbed for it. “No,” I said too quickly. “No, not yet. I….” I started to say something else, but then I caught Maggie Elden’s uncomfortably warm smile and I snapped my mouth closed. “No.”

“I… see.” Sam sounded as convinced as I felt, but he turned to Maggie Elden to give her a chance. “Ms. Elden, have you been tested?”

“Oh, my, yes, dear,” Maggie Elden said, beaming gently as the stage lights made a halo around her face for the camera. “When poor Tom, my husband, died—God rest his soul—I made it a point to find out how I would go, so I could make sure my family was protected. My children are very important to me, you know!” She waggled a finger at the screen. “I’m going to die of lung cancer, which only makes sense since I smoke. So, I get screened every year, but there’s been no sign of it yet!” She laughed. “You know I wouldn’t run if I thought my health were something to worry about!”

Sam Walters chuckled back at his new candidate-of-choice. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” Then, to the audience, he smiled. “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have at tonight’s debate; join us next week for Round Two.” He counted off three breaths, and said, “And… cut. Thank you all for coming.”

Even before he’d finished talking, the audience was up and filing out of the auditorium, murmuring to itself. Maggie rose from her seat and walked up to me, one white-gloved hand extended. “A pleasure, Congressman. Thank you for indulging me.”

A moment too late, I gave her hand a light squeeze, not quite a handshake. “The pleasure was mine, Ms. Elden, I’m sure.”

Maggie laughed at that. “The way you looked like you’d eaten a frog, I wouldn’t say so!” Then she immediately brushed aside the snipe. “Oh, don’t mind me, dear.” Her rock candy eyes glittered under the harsh stage lights. “I’m just saying you looked nervous, that’s all! You’re the incumbent! I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure,” I replied automatically. “Thank you. Please excuse me; I need to go.” Then, without another word, I turned and walked as calmly as I could behind the curtain, looking for a towel to wipe away all the sweat.

I let out a breath, my shoulders deflating. “Spent. How’d I do?”

She held out one hand and waggled it in front of her, then slowly tipped her thumb downward. “Details later. Coffee?”

“Love to. Let me phone Rick.” She passed me back my smartphone, and I thumbed it open, then scrolled through for my husband’s number. “Hey, hon,” I said as soon as it clicked. “I’m gonna grab coffee with Beth. Want to meet us downtown?”

Behind him, I could hear the television, probably talking heads predicting my eminent downfall. “I’ll pass, thanks; I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow. Bring me home a brownie, though?”

I closed my eyes. “Of course. Be home soon. Love you!” We made kissy noises at each other, and then I dumped the device back in my pocket. “All set.”

The cool air outside sent a welcome shiver down my spine. I stood for several seconds on the concrete walkway just letting the heat leach out of my skin. The sky was overcast, the clouds a burnt sienna reflecting the city lights downtown. A light mist drifted down from the sky, further soaking my already-damp shirt. “So,” I started as we walked towards the parking garage. “How’d I do, really?”

Beth shrugged as she pulled the car fob from her pocket. Her headlights blinked at us, and we got inside. “It wasn’t your worst showing ever,” she offered as she turned over the engine.

“Faint praise,” I retorted as I fumbled with the buckle. “Seriously, is she ex-Psyops or something?” I leaned against the door, resting my head in one hand. “I swear, she was utterly unflappable.”

“She got under your skin about halfway through the debate,” My manager observed casually as she maneuvered out of the garage. “She played every factor to her advantage, you saw her doing it, and she knew you knew it. Still, you held your own for the most part, up until the end. Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

I looked at Beth, but her eyes were strictly on the road, and her hands held the wheel lightly, no sign of white knuckles. “Go ahead.” I tried to put a shrug in my voice, but it ended up coming out like a swallow.

Beth chuckled softly to herself. “What’d your Malthus test say?”

I took another deep breath. “It’s not really—”

“Bullshit it’s not, Alan.” Her rebuke was near-instant, but her voice never changed pitch. “Everyone in the audience with one ear on the screen heard the stammer in your voice. You spent the whole night talking facts and figures while Miss Manners rambled about her grandkids, and then suddenly on that question, you went all personal-privacy.” She took her eyes off the road to look directly at me. “Margaret Elden pulled ahead of you by six points in two minutes; you have to address this.”

I grimaced, both at the statistics and the accusation. “Fine. You want to know?” I wasn’t trying to spit the words at her, but after an hour of interrogation, I was in no mood for more. “It said DRUG OVERDOSE. There.”

Beth went silent for several seconds while the drizzle turned to a proper spatter, drumming steadily off the windshield and roof of the car. “I can see why you tried to dodge,” she finally offered, pitching her voice up over the rain.

“Yeah, no kidding,” I grumped. “Never mind that I don’t even drink!”

Light from a passing streetlamp reflected Beth’s smirk in the glass. “So what are you on?”

I rolled my eyes. “Nothing.”

Beth looked at me again. “No, seriously, Alan, what is it? Is it just pot, or something worse?”

“It’s nothing, Beth.” I could feel my voice getting away from me, so I pinched the bridge of my nose and took another deep breath and held it while I tried to get the pounding of my veins under control. “No pot, no tobacco, not even beer. I’m on cimetidine as needed for acid reflux, but the worst that’s ever done to me is give me a headache. I’m guessing at some point down the line, it reacts with something else I’m taking, but I swear I’m clean.”

Beth’s frown glinted off the window. “If you say so.”

I groaned and thumped the dashboard. “You see? This is exactly why I didn’t say anything. Getting the damned Malthus Exam was a mistake in the first place. Two little words, and you’re ready to assume I’m some kind of stoner.”

Beth pulled one hand off the wheel. “Okay, you’re right, I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” The sienna clouds flickered gold and thunder boomed in the distance. “So why did you get tested, then?”

I shrugged. “It was Rick’s idea. Remember when his mom had that heart attack, three years ago? He wanted to find out if she’d recover, and while we were there, well, he figured we should all know.” I sighed. “Poor bastard got STARVATION. He’s put on thirty pounds since then.”

“I wondered. Shit, I’m sorry.” We both fell quiet at that, but then Beth hammered on the wheel with one hand. “No, wait. That’s it.”

I tilted my head to the side as I looked at her, trying to make sense of her outburst. “What’s it?”

She gripped the wheel in both hands and sat up in her seat. “That’s how to beat Maggie Elden. First, though, I need a commitment from you. Are you ready to come clean?”

I chewed on my lip and wiped one clammy hand on my slacks. “I think that’s a bad idea, but if you think I can still win this—”

“You can,” my campaign manager asserted. “You’re great with policy, Alan; you always have been. You’re an engineer and you’re great with numbers, but narrative’s your weak suit. Last time you ran, it didn’t matter so much, but that’s where Maggie shines. So, here’s how we’re going to spin this….”

“Mr. White?” I looked up at Maggie Elden, beaming down at me and clutching her purse before her like she needed directions to the library. “I just wanted to wish you good luck, dear.”

I smiled back and nodded, not putting down my glass. “Good luck to you, Maggie.” Her eyes hardened slightly and, for a moment, her smile looked like it would slip, but she headed over to seat and folded her hands in her lap, her head bowed. I looked again at the time, then over to Sam Walters. “I’m ready when you are.”

Our host nodded and motioned to the cameraman, who held up his hand. “Places, everyone! In five, four, three….” He fell silent, ticked down the last two seconds, then dropped his arm.

“Good evening from Jefferson State University auditorium.” Sam peered into the camera as he spoke. “I’m Sam Walters of KMOD, and I’ll be your host for the evening. Welcome to the second round of congressional debates being held for the 44th District. Tonight as before, we have Margaret Elden, wife of the late Senator Tom Elden, running against incumbent congressman Alan White. We ended the last round on a question from the internet regarding the disclosure of Malthus results, so I’d like to pick up with where we left off with a question about medical testing in general.” He turned to me and gave me his best stern nod. “Congressman White, do you think that people’s Malthus results should be a matter of public record? ‘The more you know,’ and all that?”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, Sam, that’s a fascinating question, and there’s a lot of ways I could take that, but before I do, I’d just like to address one holdover point from the last round, if I may?” He nodded, and I continued. “The question stuck in my craw after I left, so Monday, I went and got myself tested. Didn’t take long, just a few drops of blood. The results were interesting, to say the least.” Sam’s eyebrows shot up; he wasn’t expecting this tack. “Drug overdose, it said.” I held up one hand. “It was a shock to me, too. I don’t even drink! Believe me, I had a long talk with my pharmacy about it.”

Gliding past any chance at interruption, I quickly continued. “The first person I told was Rick, of course. That’s one of those phrases that could mean anything. I’m probably a medical malpractice suit waiting to happen, but we’ll come to that when we get there. What’s more important is that this whole process of finding out how you’re going to die….” I paused and leaned back in my chair. “Well, it puts you in a mind to wonder about how everyone is going to go, and what we’re doing to make that as painless as possible for everybody.” I turned suddenly to Maggie Elden and leaned on the arm of my chair. “Margaret, you said that you’ll get lung cancer, didn’t you?”

When the red light on the camera aimed at Maggie Elden went live, her eyes were glassy and confused. “Well, yes, but I, that is, I don’t see what—“

I put on my best sympathetic face. “Your husband, Tom… is that insurance policy of yours something special he got for you before your test?”

“Well, I… I don’t know, really.” Maggie Elden blinked, glancing quickly between me and the camera. “I’d have to go check my records. Tom took very good care of me, you see!”

“Of course he did, Maggie,” I said, nodded slowly and deliberately back at her, exaggerating for the camera. “But I have to wonder how many other families out there will never get that chance. How many people’s parents tested them at birth to try to protect them, but now can’t get coverage because that result’s a pre-existing condition? How many children go hungry because Mom and Dad both drew ‘auto accident’ but can’t take public transit to work? What happens to all the hard-working people who can’t get hired because the test said ‘workplace accident’? How many people have to suffer just because they’re not going to get a lucky throw on the last roll?”

I turned back to Sam and steepled my fingers in front of my face. “We like to believe in the American Dream, that if you work hard you’ll get ahead. Senator White, God rest his soul, was a prime example of that, but not everybody gets to be in the right place at the right time with the right skills like he was, and that’s nobody’s fault. If we don’t build a government that understands and accounts for that, then what message are we sending? How can anybody feel good about getting ahead at the expense of everybody else?” I couldn’t hold the grin in any longer. “To answer your question, Sam, I think that until we have that kind of government, that kind of society… well, it’s guilty until proven innocent. That’s not the American way.”

Sam smiled at me and shifted in his seat. “Well, I don’t think I can ask anything more, Congressman. Ms. Elden, anything to add?” As the camera shifted off of me and back to Maggie, I lifted my glass and stole a glance at her. She blinked, caught in the stage lights like a deer. As I watched, a bead of sweat dripped down her temple.

It’s the first of December, and I don’t really have anything new to show for it.

That’s not to say I haven’t been writing. I have. As Carissa might say, I have a pile of burnt scrolls to which I can point. My entry in the Three-Day Novel competition is still being judged. I made a submission to the Machine of Death competition. I’ve actually been dipping my paws into fanfic of late, which I might share if I can get over my totally irrational fear of looking unserious. I just don’t have anything I can put here on an on-going basis at this point.

So, with that in mind, and to save myself the heartache, I’m hereby shifting the Nail’s focus. I’ll continue to post short stories, snippets, ideas, and the like; the Machine of Death story I mentioned will be following this update post-haste. I intend to continue to communicate with my audience, such as it is, here. However, I simply cannot guarantee a regular update schedule. That seems like a breach of trust, somehow, but I’m finally putting it out here for everyone so that we’re all on the same page, as it were.

I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere. When I finally have a longer work to share, I’ll be sure and let you all see it.

My apologies, folks, but I’m extending the hiatus another two months. I have the novel plotted, but I still have exactly one night a week on which to write, I have five weeks to edit Bonds in order to have it out by FC, and I still have no backlog. Plus, in two weeks, I know I’m going to begin spending a large amount of time preparing for Bandaza—the local equivalent of Thanksgiving—and that’s going to go on through the end of next month.

So, let’s call “first week of December” the official return, and the last two posts a teaser for what’s coming. Sorry for the confusion and delay.

Into every author’s life, a little block must fall.

More accurately, I’m in the middle of trying to plot novel number four, edit novel number three, and rebuild my backlog so I can provide regular and timely updates when I do get going again. On top of this, in the last three months, one of my mates has had surgery and the other has just moved cross-country and is about to start a new job. Things have been a little hectic around the Observatory, as a result, and I just haven’t had the time to keep up the backlog that I would like. That is, I’m out of backlog.

With this in mind, I’m officially placing the Nail on hiatus until October 11, 2011. That’s three months—twelve weeks—during which to get things ready and plan ahead for the next batch of literary goodness. However, in that interim time, I’d like to ask my readers a few things, if you’re all interested.

What am I doing right?

What have you read here that you’ve really enjoyed, and why? What do you think stands out in my writing?

What am I doing wrong?

Where am I failing? What nuances am I still failing to capture? Where do you think I could stand to improve?

How do you feel about reruns?

Some sites run older content as filler material during their outages; are folks going to be offended or intrested if I were to rerun some of the older works during this gap?

How do you feel about book reviews?

One of my desired goals in the next few months is to start actually reading what other people contribute, since reading is a large part of learning how to write. Would people be interested in reading what I have to say about other written works that I’ve been consuming?

Do you have any other suggestions?

Has anybody felt like saying anything here but simply not had the time or comfort? I’m soliciting feedback; it’s the perfect time to share!

In the meantime, tell me what interests you, tell me what makes you think, tell me about you, so I can get a feel for my audience! I’ll do my best to keep this gap as short as possible for everybody.

Tomorrow does not exist. Twenty tomorrows is a long time.

She wanted to keep going, but she’d been roleplaying these kinds of scenes long enough to spot a natural break. Plus, if she didn’t stop there, she was pretty sure she’d have some explaining to do to the cleaning staff. That’s probably a good place to leave those two, I think. The keyboard clattered under her fingers as she typed blindly. I’m really glad I jumped online, though! Thanks, Jenn. I really needed that.

A blinking window from her supervisor stole Rachel’s focus as soon as she opened her eyes again. Your lunch break ended six minutes ago. Are you coming back on-shift?

Rachel’s breath caught in her throat. Logging in now, she sent back to her boss. Sorry about the delay. The next seven minutes were a blur of headset cables and application splash screens as she set back up her workstation. I’m in queue.

I see you. Rachel could hear the disapproving glare in her boss’s text. Don’t take your lunch at your desk in the future, please.

Fine. Rachel closed the window without waiting for a response, then tabbed back over to her terminal client. Jennifer had left her a message in the meantime. Well, Kassita could probably come get Gem, maybe, but it’s not exactly in zir nature to go saving people. She’d followed up the comment with a few clearly out-of-character pokes and one explicit Rachel, you there?

It’s not in Kassita’s nature to do anything anybody wants zim to do! Rachel concurred hastily. Sorry about the delay; I had to log back in after lunch.

A chime sounded in her ear, and her arm snapped automatically over to the answer button on her desk, tabbing over to her customer management window as she did so. “Thank you for calling Prismatic Media. My name is Rachel. Could I please have your subscriber ID number?” The words came out in a practiced block, her voice rising and falling in the same preset pattern as the last thousand times she’d said it. It wasn’t a question, but an autonomic response, an output of the brain stem and thorax triggered by the answering click of her headset.

As Rachel’s fingers mechanically drummed in the digits that the disembodied voice recited in her ear, her terminal window flashed at her. That’s kind of the point! If zie did what people wanted, the first thing zie’d do would be cure zirself! Then how much fun would zie be?

“One moment, ma’am, while I call up your records.” Rachel clicked the search button, then tabbed back over to her terminal window. The non-contagious kind? The kind that doesn’t leave you worrying if you’ve become a nanoplague carrier?

Like I said, what fun is that? Several emoticons followed the rejoinder. I hope you enjoyed it, at least.

Rachel squirmed in her seat again. Immensely. She held her breath and closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the sensations she’d just been describing for Gemini. One day, Jenn, I swear. One day. Maybe. She knew she didn’t need to explain; her roleplaying partner had to be thinking the same thing about her own character.

“Hello?” The voice in her ear spoke. “Are you still there?”

The question snapped Rachel out of her reverie. “Ah, yes, sorry. The computer’s being slow today, you know how it is.” The excuse was as practiced as the rest of her speech, even if she had to be interrupted into it. “How may I help you today, Mrs. Reynolds?”

While Mrs. Reynolds nattered in her ear, Rachel pulled up a text window and started typing keywords into it, plucked from the flow of her customer’s speech. Maybe! Jennifer agreed in her terminal window. We could get a vacbed for the house, and I could play with the tube. What do you think?

“I think—” Rachel cut the flow of words off with a blush. Text-stream fail, she chastized herself as she cleared her throat. I think it might be fun. I’ve tried things like that before, but it’s never as good in real life, you know?

Mrs. Reynolds was silent, startled by the unexpected interruption. “You think what?”

“Oh, that was for my supervisor, ma’am, and I forgot to mute,” Rachel lied into her microphone, glancing over the keywords her hindbrain had pulled out of Mrs. Reynolds’ rambling. “So, it sounds like you’re having some connection problems. When’s the last time you power-cycled your cable router?” Mrs. Reynolds launched into another miniature tirade about the frustrations of technology, and Rachel caught herself nodding supportively at her computer. “I know it’s frustrating, but I do have to ask you to please go find it and unplug it for thirty seconds, then plug it back in. Of course, I’ll wait.”

Saudade. The word was waiting for her when she got back to the window. Longing for what never was or could be.

The chat window from her boss popped up again. Please come see me after your call.

The vice-grip around Rachel’s chest tightened again, but without any of the warm tingling that accompanied it before. Sure, she sent back, before flipping over to the terminal window where Jenn was waiting. Exactly. I should go, but I have a side question for you first. Who or what is Jakob Voynovich?

Another long silence passed. You know, I’m not sure! It made sense when I said it. I think it did, at least.

I’m not complaining! Rachel banged out the reassurance. I was just a little surprised by it. New character idea, maybe?

Maybe! Jenn’s reply was faster this time. With an introduction like that, he sounds like he could be some kind of crime lord. That might be fun to play!

“Hello?” The voice in Rachel’s ear startled her. “It’s plugged back in.”

Rachel’s snicker died in her throat as she shifted her vocal track back to operator-mode. “Okay, I’m going to try to connect to your router. This will only take a few moments. Please hold.” Her fingers bounced over her keyboard, cranking out diagnostic commands. While they ran, she tabbed back to her terminal window. That’s all you need: another excuse for a creepy backstage manipulator. Too much narrative intrigue, not enough sexy time!

To each zir own, love, Jenn chided. You want more sexy time, you have to give me more high-concept weirdness. That’s how it works!

I’m not complaining, just amused. Rachel’s fingers bounced on her keyboard as she typed. Anyway, I should get going. Is there enough of a dinner plan for me to worry about leftovers?

The chat window stayed silent for a few moments. Maybe. I’ll talk with the others and try to work something out.

Rachel sighed. Just let me know, okay? I’d rather stop and get a burger than come home and cook if you guys don’t do anything.

“Is something wrong?” Mrs. Reynolds asked.

I’ll let you know if a plan comes together, okay? Jenn sent back.

No, nothing’s wrong. Rachel stared at her terminal window, then drew in a deep breath. “No, nothing’s wrong. The computers are just slow today. I don’t see anything wrong from here. It looks like power-cycling your router seems to have taken care of the problem.”

What’s wrong? Jenn asked. Was it something I said?

Never mind. I have to go. See you tonight. Rachel closed the terminal window, then leaned back in her chair and stared emptily at the ceiling tiles. “You’re very welcome, Mrs. Reynolds. Thank you for calling Prismatic Media, and have a wonderful afternoon.” Her finger tapped the answer button again, but her mind was already drifting ahead to the meeting with her supervisor. She glanced towards the clock, hoping for a reprieve, but the hands only pointed out how far from her next break she was. She slumped forward, elbows against her desk, and sighed. I wonder if anyone will notice if I take a nap in the bathroom?

It wasn’t as if she had a schedule to keep. She could take as long as she wanted on the repair validations, as long as she got them done before the next automated maintenance cycle. She could even cancel the request entirely. Lunar Central would simply republish the request and somebody else with the necessary qualifications would take the assignment. She wasn’t even really in any danger of needing to work any time soon. She gave enough of her time to maintaining Theta Dome’s ventilation system that she could afford to spend the next hundred rotations doing nothing but reviewing automat cuisine and importing designer pharma from Ganymede.

Rather, the chance to work on the external airlocks—and most importantly, outside them—gave Gemini a chance to practice one of her more… difficult… vices. She inhaled sharply, rolling the scent of her own breath and the citrus tang of her air supply around in her nostrils. Pressure-suit training was mandatory for residence in any of Luna’s domes, and Central was quick to fine anyone whose certification lapsed. That was one tax the neofeline airtech had never had to pay, and probably never would. To the extent she could, she lived in her suit, filtering her reality through twin transparent displays and a thin layer of full-body latex.

Unfortunately, to really get the full experience, she needed at least one partner, somebody brave enough to risk a seal breach and interesting enough to be worth the risk. On Mars or Titania, that wouldn’t have been a problem; most of the inhabitants knew their way around a suit and the local cultures encouraged the sort of no-risk-no-reward attitude the technician could get behind. Lunar tastes, however, ranged to the safer, saner, and more consensual. That meant that, in Theta Dome at least, Gemini’s choices were somewhat limited. She’d sent out a message to her top five candidates a full five kiloseconds before starting the job, hoping for an interested response, but she’d only gotten static for her troubles.

With a count of FF, Gemini stood and stretched, the suit squeaking around her. She sighed into her rebreather and slid forward towards the edge of the alcove. Just to the left of the airlock was a small terminal, and she slid the snug metamagnetic bracelet around her wrist into the small opening below. The port chimed softly in recognition, and then air rushed into the space between the seals. With pressure near to normal, the sign above the door lit and a second beep sounded as the inner iris opened, revealing a narrow space lit with simple white panels. Two emergency pressure-suits and helmet hung on one side of the gap, while hazard icons blanketed the other. The airtech stepped between them and pressed her bracelet to the inner scanner, and the iris sealed behind her.

“Hello, Gemini.” The words echoed across her cochlear transducer. The feline’s eyes widened behind her lenses as she spun around. Leaning against the inner iris, a raccoon half-grinned at her from within a smoke-tinted bubble-helmet. Silvery biomechanical tendrils crept up from beneath the neckline of zir own suit. “Fancy meeting me here.”

“Kassita.” The airtech hissed the name into her rebreather as she backed up against the outer ring. “I don’t recall asking for your help.”

The raccoon chittered in response, zir feedback-laugh grating directly into Gemini’s skull. “Not directly, perhaps, but I received word from… a mutual acquaintence, shall we say.” Spidery threads of unfocused nanopaste clung to the inside of zir visor. “I thought I might offer.”

Gemini backed up against the outer iris, but her denial was lost to the rush of fans as they evacuated the airlock. The feline swayed slightly as the pressure outside dropped, sending a rush of blood to her head. The warning sign light flashed twice, and her wrist bracelet began to vibrate as the second ring opened. She took a step backwards, crossing the threshold. Outside, Terra hung high in the sky, the cyan glow of the Wall surrounding and isolating the planet shining like a second sun. Sol floated lower and to the left, casting long shadows across the ground.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Kassita mused as zie glided towards the feline. Zir paws were at the feline’s shoulders before the she could say no, gecko-like patches on the raccoon’s fingertips affixing themselves to the airtech’s suit. “O, goblet full to brim with bloom and faun, what grants her holder never but a sip. Padilla’s Shattered Albedo always seems appropriate when Earthgazing, don’t you think?”

The airtech squirmed around, trying to pull free of Kassita’s van der Waals grip. “I’m not out here to Earthwatch,” she protested. “I’m just here to spot-check the automated repair system.”

“Correction, Gemini. You’re here to engage in asphyxiation and exposure-play.” One of Kassita’s gloves slid with uncomfortable fluidity down Gemini’s front, leaving a faint silvery trail as zie caressed the airtech’s suit. When zir paw reached Gemini’s hip, zie turned her roughly to face the Wall. “If you happen to certify that repair work while you’re enjoying yourself, so much the better.”

Gemini grit her teeth, trying to ignore the warmth she was feeling inside her suit. She jerked her shoulder forward out from under Kassita’s grip, but the raccoon’s glove held as if bonded in place. “Technicalities. What do you want?”

Kassita chittered again, this time backed by a dissonant trill, like a pair of sine waves fighting for dominance. “The same thing you want, of course. You haven’t actually told me to stop, you realize. You could at any point, but you haven’t, have you?” Zie snapped one arm forward, grabbed Gemini by the back of the throat and jerked backwards. “I’m starting to suspect you don’t really want me to stop, do you?”

Gemini’s eyes went wide as a binaural beat began to drum its way into her head, disrupting her focus. “I—” Between the sudden motion and the carrier signal, Gemini’s thoughts struggled to cohere. “I want you….” She shook her head, her tail lashing behind her, swatting at Kassita’s thighs. “… to stop.”

Kassita put one paw on the release valve of Gemini’s airtank and gave it a quarter-turn. “Do you really?”

Gemini groaned as the air hissed behind her. Unbidden, one of her paws went between her thighs, as if she could physically restrain the physiological response through her latex suit. “Don’t,” she whimpered. “Stop.”

“Don’t stop?” Kassita chittered. “If you insist.” Zie gave another half-twist, and the pressurized air in Gemini’s tanks began to boil away, tiny flurries condensing across the raccoon’s helmet. “Breathe slow, Gemini. Every lungful will cost you.” Zir other paw went to Gemini’s tail, pulling it to the side as zie pressed against the rear of the airtech’s suit. “Here, let me give you something that will help.” Zie casually linked the front of zir suit to the back of Gemini’s and extruded a nanotendril between them.

“Wh—” Gemini interrupted herself midword, holding her breath as she listened to the gas venting behind her. She keened softly into her rebreather and pressed more firmly against her cleft. Her whole body shook as as she struggled against the urge to grind her hips against her paw. As she rocked on her hinds, she felt one of her waste-seals crack, and then something body-warm and slick pressing directly against her fur. Her teeth chattered as the filaments of nanopaste began to light up her neurons, compounding her desire. “—at!” she finished sharply, caught between the need to pull away and the fear of breaking the seal.

Kassita’s laugh echoed in Gemini’s cochlear transducer again, rolling along the dueling sine waves. “It’s just a small gift, Gemini. Something I’ve wanted to share with you for a very long time.” Zie pushed the silvery probe further into Gemini’s suit, slipping between her legs, splitting and gliding through her fur towards her openings. “You’ll love it once you try it, I promise.”

Caught between rising arousal and terror, Gemini’s heart began to pound. The dissonant hum and the dwindling oxygen killed any hope of protest. Everywhere the nanotendrils touched her, cool electricity poured into her skin, lighting her nerves and augmenting her arousal. She began to rock impatiently against her fist, fingers rolling against her crotch as she mewled into her rebreather. Stars danced at the edge of her vision, while the Wall glowed directly before her. “No.” The word was automatic, a whisper among howls. “Please.”

“No and please?” The raccoon’s voice flowed along those sensuous sine waves, cold enough to burn. “You should make up your mind, Gemini. You don’t have much air left. Which is it?”

“Please!” came Gemini’s gasping reply, her lungs starting to sting. The stars grew brighter even as her vision began to fade. She jammed her paw tightly to her crotch, pressing inward against the thickening quicksilver tentacle crawling inside her sex. “Please! Please! Please! Please!” The word became a mantra, every thrust of her hips forward and back matched with a fresh exclamation as she rode the dizzying wave of disorientation towards climax.

Kassita’s smile turned cold, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Then… no.” Zie hissed, and suddenly the tendrils withdrew, sucking backwards into the raccoon’s suit, replacing the seal in their wake. Zie pushed the airtech away and stepped back towards the airlock. “If you want it, then it isn’t any fun.”

Gemini cried out in frustration, rocking frantically against her fingers. The loss of the nanoprobes inside her left her cold, but the oxygen-loss was enough to push herself over the edge, and she dropped to her knees, yowling into her rebreather as she climaxed. She fell forward onto all fours, wincing as the metamagnetic bracelet banged into the back of her paw. “Bitch,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“You wouldn’t appreciate it otherwise,” Kassita smirked as she withdrew. “Come find me in Red Sector, four-eight-two-five, if you change your mind later. You may want to refill your tanks before you try to work. Oh, and one more thing. Jakob Voynovich sends his regards.” Then the raccoon stepped back inside the airlock, disappearing from view.

I could hear breathing in the room beyond. I tugged at my tie, then pulled it out from around my neck as I stepped into the main room. Lounging on the bed, propped against the wall, was a white tigress casually reading something on a smartphone. Her red velvet sleeveless evening gown strained between her expansive chest, and her fur gleamed where the light touched it. At her waist was a wide black belt to emphasize her figure, and a golden chain choker sat close to her neck, with a familiar agate bauble at the hollow of her throat. I’d seen all of Ms. Teozen’s girls wear something like it somewhere, probably a gift from the madam herself.

I coughed once to try to get her attention, but her eyes remained deliberately on her screen. I waited several seconds, then spoke into the silence, my voice seeming too loud for the small space. “Ms. Teozen sent you?”

“She did, yes,” the tigress confirmed, still not turning her head. “My name is… well, call me Bianca.”

“Bianca, that’s very pretty. I… well, I brought you something.” I pulled a second envelope from my pocket, unmarked, and held it out to her. “A gift, not part of the deal.”

Finally, Bianca turned her head; her eyes were pale blue, like a cloudless summer sky. “Thank you, Reggie.” She sat up and took the check from me, then slid it into a pouch of a duffel bag on the floor beside the bed.

I winced at the shorthand. “Please, call me Reginald. I haven’t been called Reggie since high school.”

She chuffed softly, the tip of her tail flicking in amusement behind her. “Funny, that. First things first, though.” She held up a small cut crystal vial, about the length of my finger, stoppered at one end with a cork wrapped in wax. Inside swirled a dark amber liquid. “I’ll need three drops of your blood, to finish this.”

I watched Bianca roll the prism around in her fingers, the fluid inside shifting about. “Is that…?” I wiped my hands on my slacks; no matter how many times I did this, confronting the moment always made me nervous.

Bianca laughed again, a deeper rumble in the back of her throat. “Oh, poor boy. It’s more than you could imagine, that’s what it is.” She held out a paw. “Your hand, please… Reginald.”

With quickening pulse, I offered Bianca my hand, and she took it in hers, then closed her fingers around mine. An ivory claw slid out of her thumb, and she scratched my palm with it. Instantly, blood welled up in the cut, the salty sweat making it sting. I hissed against pursed lips, but I couldn’t look away as she broke the seal on the vial in her other paw, then counted off the crimson drops that she dribbled into the crystal. As each hit the amber within, the fluids reacted, mixing in rainbow hues. “One… two… three.” She let go of my hand and corked the small tube again. “That will take about five minutes to settle. Go run that under cold water for a bit.”

I nodded. “Yes, Bianca.” That familiar constriction returned as I held my hand under the faucet, watching drops of blood wash down the drain. My fingers and toes had started to go numb again. “Ms. Teozen never has told me where she gets her potions. They’ve got to eat up most of what I’m paying.”

“Ms. Teozen doesn’t encourage us to discuss finances,” the tigress called from the other room. “It ruins the mood.”

“I’m just wondering,” I responded over the running water, rubbing at the cut with my palm. “I’m fascinated by all this, really.”

Bianca chuckled again, and then I saw her in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the doorframe. She’d slid out of her dress, revealing a hunter green satin corset laced with white cord, accompanied by a matching thong below. “And you get so little opportunity to study it, I’m sure.” Her pale blue eyes burned into my reflection.

I shrugged and looked down at the sink quickly. “Let’s say it doesn’t come up much in my line of work.”

Bianca smiled tightly. “I’m sure it doesn’t.” She nodded, then slid back out of the doorframe, beckoning with her tail as she returned to the bed. “Has it stopped?”

I pulled my hand out of the water; the line of red was still visible, and as I watched, it slowly darkened, but it was mostly sealed. “Pretty much, yes.”

“Good,” the tigress responded. “Join me.”

When I stepped back into the bedroom, Bianca was busily shaking the vial in one paw, her other arm across her chest. She held it up before her eyes; the fluid within had gone completely clear. “It’s ready.” She tossed it to me. “Drink.”

I studied the crystal vial carefully; rainbows danced in its depths. “All of it?”

She nodded again, smiling with that hint of fang again. “One gulp.”

A shudder ran through me, but I nodded and pulled the stopper from the vial. The scents of jasmine and copper hit my nose and I sneezed, but before I could lose my nerve, I tossed back the contents like a shot. It was oily and tangy and it burned down my throat like liquid fire, then settled into a warm tingle in my stomach. I grunted and sat heavily on the bed. “It’s like an itch,” I muttered, not really thinking about it.

“Those sensations will fade soon,” Bianca soothed. “You should go ahead and strip.”

I shook my head, but I started fumbling with the buttons on my shirt. “I know. No, I—” The words caught in my throat, then tumbled out of me. “It’s like an itch. If you try to scratch it, it only itches worse.”

Bianca’s tail hooked behind her. “You’re not talking about your palm, or the potion.” That half-smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How do you feel?”

I shuddered again; far from fading, the tingle was starting to spread, a faint burning like acid reflux, but deep in my gut. “Not good,” I admitted. “It wasn’t like this last time.”

Bianca’s smile spread, but her eyes grew harder. “You met with Selina last time. You asked Ms. Teozen to up the tension. We seek to please.”

The pain was starting to spread; every brush of my clothes made my skin crawl, and I struggled with the buttons, trying to get the clothing off. “I know what I—” A wave of nausea washed up my throat, making me gag. “Oh fuck….”

The tigress folded her arms beneath her ample chest. “Oh, poor boy. Is this too much for you?”

With a rising groan, I tore my starched shirt off my chest and threw it on the floor; beneath it, fire crawled beneath my flesh, turning it dark and coarse. Stiff brown fur forced itself through the leathery hide, and I desperately rubbed at the skin, trying to scrape away with the pain with palsied, agony-riddled fingers. Something ripped behind me, and for a moment I thought I had torn a hole in my skin, but when I reached back, the rear seam of my slacks had given way, the shivering nub of a tail forcing itself through the fabric. I dropped to my knees, a sob cracking up my throat, breaking over parched lips.

Softly, Bianca tsked behind me. “You should be careful who you ask to make things harder on you, Reggie.” Her voice was surprisingly soft, her whiskers a maddening tickle against my ear. “Somebody might take it as a challenge.”

I whined again, more at the burning than the name. I tried rolling onto my back, but the carpet burned against my fur. I thrashed up into my rump, but that just ground my boxers into my ass. “Oh fuck,” I panted again, putting my head in my muzzle. “M-make it stop, make it stop make it stop, please….” Another sob broke out of me, and the tears started to roll freely down my muzzle, stopped short by a bleating cry when Bianca’s needle-sharp teeth clamped down on my ear.

“That’s enough out of you,” she growled. “You wanted this. You wanted it rough, so Ms. Teozen sent me, and I take my job seriously.” She tugged at my ear, then let go, the hot blood running down my cheek a fresh spark of pain mixing with the mounting burn of the fabric touching me everywhere. “You want it to stop?” I nodded mutely and she held out her paw. “Stand up.”

I took her paw in my hand and forced myself to my hinds, then struggled out of the last of my clothing and tossed it aside. Nude, the pain finally began to abate, and the end of so much agony was so intense that I moved to latch onto my tormentor, to weep my relief into her breast. As my chest brushed against her corset, though, pain seared itself across my chest and I stumbled backwards with another cry, landing on the bed. Instantly, my back was a field of flames, and a fresh scream tore itself from my mouth as I thrashed back upright.

“Enough!” Bianca gripped my shoulders in her paws. “Hold still.” I froze, and again the pain vanished, as if it had never been. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I looked down at myself. At the end of my legs, hooves insulated me from the carpet, and understanding dawned. “Those are the only things keeping me upright, aren’t they?” I whispered. My heart pounded in my chest, my blood pulsing in my ears. I felt nauseous, giddy, ready to throw up, and I realized only seconds later that my cock was jutting upright and a thin stream of pre was pouring down my shaft.

The tigress chuckled again. “He learns fast.”

Cautiously, I brushed my hand against Bianca’s corset, then jerked it back as if I’d just pressed it against a hot stovetop. I looked at my hands; the fingertips were hard and black, glittering slightly. I tapped one tip against her chest, but nothing happened. I held my breath, then pressed one fingertip into the fabric, but nothing happened. I let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, okay… I can handle this, but… um… how can we…?” I blushed, suddenly; I’d been so distracted by the effects of the potion that I’d almost forgotten that part of the bargain.

“You won’t like it,” Bianca chuckled, then nipped my other ear, making me whimper. She knelt beside the bed, then reached into the duffel bag and pulled out a small stack of something white. She set the pile on the nightstand, and then plastic rustled as she unfolded one and approached.

My ears reflexively folded back against my head as I realized what it was. “You can’t be—” My protest died in my throat at Bianca’s calculating smile.

“I am, in fact,” the tigress growled deep in her throat. “And until that potion wears off, it’s these or…” She glanced meaningfully at the bed.

I swallowed heavily at that. “Yes, ma’am,” I whispered, crossing my arms behind my back. I didn’t mean to say it, but the word slipped out along with my cock, aching in front of me.

“Good boy,” Bianca smirked. “But this won’t be enough. Only water can cool that fire. I hope you can relieve yourself through that.” I winced as she flicked a claw against my throbbing erection. “Otherwise, when this goes on, it’s going to hurt. Think you can manage that, Reggie?”

“I… don’t know, ma’am.” I swallowed hard, chest tightening from humiliation. “I… I can try.”

The tigress chuckled again. “You’d better do more than try, or you’re going to be in a lot of pain until you manage.” Then, without further ado, she pressed the adult diaper into my crotch, sending a blistering ache over my groin. I immediately let out a fresh cry and my knees started to tremble, but I grabbed Bianca’s fur and pushed, and the white padding started to yellow and soften. Almost at once, the fire gave way to a soothing warmth, the relief and the pleasure making me groan.

“Hold that here,” Bianca directed, moving my hands to the front of my padding. I gingerly took the waistband in between my fingers, and while I supported my end, her fingers moved quickly to the sides and behind, pulling up the rear and taping everything into place. The plastic rustled every time my short tail flicked against it, reminding me of its presence and making me blush anew. “There we go, little Reggie.”

I whimpered and folded my arms behind my back, my cock pulsing against the wet padding. “Thank you, ma’am.”

The tigress grinned and massaged me through my diaper, and I started to grind against her capable fingers, but after a few seconds of teasing, she put her other paw on my shoulder and pushed me down. “Kneel, little boy.”

I winced but nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Ginger, I sank to my knees, but true to her word, the only sting when I knelt was the normal carpet burn. I let out the breath I hadn’t meant to hold as Bianca stepped up in front of me, her legs spread, the front of her sodden panties before her.

Hungrily, I threw myself at her, muzzle pressed against her thatch. The satin was soaked with her juices and the faint sour tinge of urine, but I lapped like a parched dog at an oasis. She growled and moaned, moving her paw to the back of my head, holding me against her crotch. I sucked her nectar from the fabric and traced her folds with my tongue through the thin material, frantically rubbing myself through the front of my own soggy undergarment, squishing the wet padding against my shaft and grinding against my hand.

“If you come before I do, I’m taking half that stack with me when I leave,” Bianca growled, and I forced my hand away from my crotch. I groaned into her sex, whimpering with need, trying to ignore the throbbing of my cock as I poured my energies into the tigress’ cunt. After what felt like hours of worshiping her through her panties, she pulled aside the sheer fabric, bearing her folds to me directly. “Now, little boy,” she whispered hoarsely. “Get me off.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I grunted in response, my tongue already starting to go numb. I was no expert, but she wasn’t my first, and she was as turned on by what she’d been doing as I was. She was already growling by the time she bared herself to me, and her clit was already throbbing when I touched my tonguetip to it. She let out a yowl and sunk her claws into my shoulders, but the pain was only an encouragement. I traced her netherlips and circled her clit, then dragged my tongue over it, and her whole body tightened and shook under me, tailtip batting at my chest.

When the moment passed, she pulled her paws off of my shoulder and retrieved her dress from her bag. “If you can get off through that, you’re welcome to do so.” She patted the stack of diapers on the nightstand. “Water will work as well as urine; the spell only cares about moisture. Just be careful; I’m leaving you six, and they have to last until the potion fades.”

I swallowed heavily, but my hand was already back on the front of my diaper, rubbing frantically against myself through the wet padding. Within seconds, I was groaning, and then a fresh burst of spunk added to the mess. I sank gratefully against the carpet, letting it tickle my chest. “How long… how long until it wears off?”

Bianca grinned and pulled the dress on over her head. “Long enough to make six diapers a challenge. The room is reserved through the end of the week.” She carefully tugged the velvet into place, then buckled her belt. “You have Ms. Teozen’s number if anything too disastrous happens.” With that, she retrieved her bag and slung it incongruously over her shoulder. “Enjoy your weekend, Reginald.”

I rolled onto my back and smiled up at the departing tigress. “I will, Bianca.” As the door opened and closed behind her, I sighed happily and soaked the diaper further, hoping that this would scratch the itch, at least for a while.

I broke the gaze and looked down at my computer, which was busily installing update four of fifteen. I shrugged. “Sure. What’s up?”

Steven didn’t move, and the smile on his face tightened slightly. “In my office?”

I shrugged again. “Sure.” I dragged out the vowel, trying to project nonchalance, but the timing of the request sent a shiver down my spine. He turned, and I followed behind, running down the litany of possible gaps in my performance. No matter how many times he pulled me aside to deliver an attagirl or just ask my opinion on something, I could never shake the sense that this time, we were going to have the Big Talk.

Steven’s office looked more like a nest than an office. His whiteboard was an intricate multi-colored disaster, an attempt to drag some amount of order out of chaos, and that theme seemed to carry across the rest of his space. Every available flat surface had something on it, from notepads to magnetic paperclip sculptures to printouts of presentations. As I stepped across the threshold into Steven’s office, he nodded at me. “Close the door?” Despite the rise in his voice, it wasn’t a request.

I bit back the resigned sigh as I did so. “Did you need my help with something?”

He dropped into his chair and leaned back, then waved towards one of the cheap lobby chairs opposite his desk. “Have a seat?”

I grimaced. “I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind.” My chair had been uncomfortable enough; the lumbar support jammed into my spine and the memory foam cushion seemed to have developed amnesia. Those rigid metal-and-plastic frames looked downright torturous. “I’m about to head to the doctor’s office anyway. I e-mailed you about that this morning.”

He nodded again. “I saw, which is why I wanted to catch you. I wanted to ask if the visit had anything to do with your meeting this morning.”

I held very still, gazing into my manager’s eyes, trying unsuccessfully to measure his mood. “This morning?”

He sat upright and tapped on his keyboard, exposing the desktop completely covered in icons. “Amanda emailed me afterwards, asking if you were okay. She said you took her roles-and-responsibilities meeting and tried to turn it into a turf war.”

The sigh forced itself out of me, along with the breath I’d been holding. “I’ll apologize to Amanda later; I’m really not feeling well.”

“You don’t look well, I’ll give you that,” Steven agreed, brushing his mustache away from his mouth with his fingers. “I’ve noticed you’ve had a lot more sick days the last few months.” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his desk on top of a stack of color printouts. “I just wanted to find out if everything’s alright.”

Honesty warred with caution behind the scenes inside my head. “I think everything’s going to be alright,” I replied cautiously, carefully measuring the stress in my words. “I’ve been having some medical problems, but they’re nothing that ought to hurt my job performance.”

Steven chuckled grimly. “I think ‘ought’ and ‘is’ are pretty far apart here.” He held up a hand, palm outstretched, and shook his head. “I’m not trying to scare you, but I wanted you to hear it from me before you heard it from anybody else. Amanda’s not happy, and she’s not being quiet about it. I’ve already told her you’re sick, and that’s taken some of the heat off of things, but whatever it is, try to get it sorted out quickly if you can, okay?”

My gut twisted in response, but I inhaled sharply and swallowed my snarl. “Sometimes these things can take time to sort out, but I’ll do the best I can.”

Steven stood up and held out a hand. “I don’t want to lose you, Rhee. You’re one of my best people. Are you sure you can’t tell me what’s going on?”

I took his hand in my own, fighting down the grimace at my own clammy touch. “I wish I could, but it’s really nothing you ought to worry about. I’ll be back after my appointment, but I have to head down south, so I’ll be in late.”

My manager pumped once, then let go and waved me off. “Go ahead and take the rest of the day. I got your reports from this morning. Try to get things fixed, okay?”

I closed my eyes and nodded, my chest tight. “I will.” Then I was out the door, grabbing my laptop and scurrying for the exit like I was dodging a runaway train.

I turned my head so I didn’t have to watch the needle going into my arm. “That’d be pretty accurate. I bit somebody’s head off in a meeting today. Figuratively,” I added after a moment’s pause.

“Just checking,” my doctor quipped. “You never can be sure. Ready?” I nodded and held my breath. The needle burned as it entered, a bright spark of pain just inside my elbow that always made me grit my teeth. “There. Hold still.”

I nodded again. “Holding,” I grimaced through clenched teeth. It was ludicrous, I knew, being afraid of something so tiny, but fears didn’t have to be rational to have power, and were usually stronger when they weren’t. Seconds ticked past while I focused on the padded table under my butt and the itch at the base of my spine. I wanted to think of anything but the needle jammed into my arm and that burning, stinging sensation around the puncture wound and vial after vial of blood pumping out through the hole and—

“Done!” he exclaimed, sliding the tiny butterfly needle out of the hole. A whimper escaped me, but Dr. Bernardi just clucked his tongue in response. “I’ve been doing this every three months for four years.” A wad of gauze and a strip of vet wrap later, he was holding my elbow bent to stop the bleeding. “You’re going to get used to it eventually.”

He said that every time, and the familiarity was comforting, even if the reason for it wasn’t. I held my injured elbow in my good hand, smiling despite the lingering pain. “Not if it hurts worse every time you do it!”

Dr. Bernardi put his free hand on his chest over his silk tie and raised his eyebrows in mock-surprise. “You wound me, Mrs. List. I am a professional.”

I grinned at that. “A professional what, though?”

Dr. Bernardi set down the vials on his counter, then waggled his hand, turning towards his desk. “Oh, a little of this, a little of that, very little of that.” He pulled out a full syringe, then stuck it through the rubber stopper on one of the vials. “Speaking of, are you going to be at the gathering two weekends from now? My oldest’s going to be presenting himself.” He pulled a testing strip from a jar, then set it on the counter beside the sink. “I’d like a few supporting voices to be there.”

“I’d love to,” I replied. “We can talk politics later, though. What’s the word?”

My doctor clucked his tongue again as he let a drop of blood fall onto the testing strip. “I don’t have to send these off to the lab to tell you what’s going on, but I will just so I have exact numbers.” He kept his head down over the desk, watching the paper change color. “At a minimum, your expressin is low, and I can guess that your serum teratonase levels are off the scale.” He turned around and looked down the length of his nose at me. “Let me guess; you’re not taking your pills over the weekend.”

I sighed. “I was hoping I could get by without doing so. If I skip Friday morning, by Friday night I’m able to change again, and then I start taking them Sunday morning and by Monday I’m fine for work.”

Jerome Bernardi, MD, DVM, scowled and walked over to the exam table, putting one hand on my knee. “Did you remember to take your pills on Sunday?”

I nodded urgently. “I swear, I did. Morning and evening dose, both.”

He patted my leg lightly. “And I bet I’m not going to be able to talk you into taking your pills every day like a good little bear, am I?”

I sighed. “I really don’t want to lose that. It’s the one chance I have to feel sane during the week.”

Dr. Bernardi rubbed his chin with his free hand, then squeezed my knee. “You know, we can try putting you back on the adhominol.”

I shook my head quickly. “The last time I tried it, I broke out in hives all over.”

Dr. Bernardi clucked his tongue, then took a seat at his desk, two fingers flying over his keyboard. “Fine. I’m upping your expressin to two-hundred grams, twice a day, but that’s as high as I can safely push it. Take half a pill every morning and night over the weekend, then double up on Sunday night to try to get your serum levels back where they should be. If you feel the least bit off next Monday, call me, okay?”

I let out a chuff of relief and nodded slowly. “I can do that. Thanks, doc.”

My doctor shook his head and grinned lopsidedly at me. “Don’t thank me until it works, Rhee. Which… who knows? It’s worth a shot.” He stabbed the keyboard with one fingertip. “Sent. Take care, and I’ll see you a week from Saturday.”

The words stopped me in my tracks, one paw on the edge of the door, the other tugging at the buttons of my polo shirt, my eyes trapped by my girlfriend. Despite being tall for a raccoon, she was usually a study in curves: wide hips, a gentle tummy that made her giggle when I tickled it, and ample breasts that my paws longed to caress. Today, though, she was all red leather angles, severe and imposing. The platform boots she wore brought her almost eye to eye with me and tilted her onto her toes, making her look like she was looming. Her corset accentuated her already-generous figure, pushing out her chest and drawing her waist into a sharp line. Elbow-length fingerless gloves covered her forearms, and in one paw, she lazily twirled a slim rattan cane.

In the other, she held my collar, its small gems glittered against the powder-blue leather. Her deep blue eyes were cold and unreadable, bright against the black band of fur. She held my gaze for several seconds, until I had to force myself to look away. My ears flattened against my head and my tail drooped, and I could feel its tip flicking nervously to spite me. I glanced back, cautiously, and forced a smile to my muzzle. “Sorry, love. I got stuck in a meeting and couldn’t—”

My voice froze when the switch in my mate’s fingers stopped. “I said you’re late, kitty.” My chest froze as Mistress invoked scene. “And by over two hours, I should note. Kneel, paws behind your back, and they had better stay there.”

I swallowed heavily but did as she asked, lacing my fingers together, the backs of my paws pressed against the small of my back. As I sunk to my knees and bowed my head, the tip of her cane tapped my shoulder, and I heard the door close behind me with an ominous thunk. “Do you remember what you’re supposed to do if you’re going to be late?”

I winced, my muzzle suddenly dry. I licked my lips nervously and swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

I heard Mistress’ boots step closer, and her short claws gripped the scruff of my neck. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

The tug at the sensitive fur sent a ripple of heat down my spine even as my cheeks burned. “I’m to call if I can, text if I can’t, before our meeting.” My voice came out a lot smaller than before. “And I’m to either tell you when I’ll be there, or when I’ll next contact you, ma’am.”

“So why didn’t you message me, pet?” Mistress’ tone was far too light, too casual. “I’m curious. How long did you plan on making me wait?”

I swallowed heavily again. My knees were starting to hurt, but I didn’t dare move. My chest felt tight and my paws were sweating, but my cock was already starting to twitch. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” The words started to spill out of me. “Paul and some of the other guys in the office invited me to join them for drinks. I tried to tell them I had a date, but they started cracking jokes about me being whipped. I had to go! I had to save face!”

Mistress was quiet for a few seconds after that, though her claws never stopped their teasing. Then I felt her breath on my ear, her words a murmur. “Are you embarrassed by our relationship, kitty?”

“Are you sure?” She drew out the last word, rising in gentle mockery. “You’re such a big, strong, buff tiger.” A tap from Mistress’ cane emphasized every word, sending a fresh rush of warmth to my cheeks. “And I’m just a meek little raccoon. Everybody thinks you’re the alpha and I’m the omega, but…” She paused and nipped my eartip, making me mewl. Her voice fell to a husky whisper. “We both remember rule number one, don’t we, kitty?”

“You own me, ma’am, and I’m glad to be owned.” The words were a mantra of arousal; just saying it was enough to make my shaft throb in its sheath.

Mistress’ claws suddenly dug into the scruff of my neck, though her voice never rose in pitch or volume. “So why don’t your coworkers know when your mistress expects you to be home, hmm?”

The strength of her grip in such a sensitive location made me whimper. “I… I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Oh, not yet you aren’t,” Mistress hissed in my ear, “but you will be.” The cane left my shoulder, and then I felt her paws at my neck, fastening my collar in place, followed by the click of a lock behind me. “Rise, strip, and follow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said as I got up off of my knees. I wanted to take a minute to rub some blood flow back into them, but I knew better than to delay any longer. I shed my pants and shirt, then my underwear, bundling it all under my arm as I followed Mistress back into our bedroom. Inside, the room smelled of her musk, velvety and warm. Red lights in the lamps on the nightstands made the room seem a few degrees warmer, and a pile of nylon strapping and leather cuffs sat in the middle of the bed.

Mistress took my clothes from me as I entered. “On the bed, kitty. All fours.” Once I was in position, she pulled the restraints from under me, then quickly tied my ankles to the foot of the bed, forcing me to spread my legs. She balled my paws into fists, then tucked them into a pair of mitts, which she then fixed to the bedsides. I heard her climb up beside me, and then the room went dark as she put a padded blindfold over my eyes. My shaft bobbed out of its sheath, but with my arms tied, I couldn’t do anything about it. Not that I would have dared without her permission.

The cane bounced lightly against my back, but I quickly bit my tongue. “That was just a warmup, kitty,” Mistress said from behind me, her voice still tight. “Seven strokes, one for every fifteen minutes you made me wait. Count out loud.” Then the air whistled, and the slim rattan rod landed squarely across my rump with a crack.

“One!” I yelped, jumping slightly. The blow sounded worse than it felt, but the sting it left still hurt. The cane whistled again, and the second stroke fell just below the first. “Two!” My cheeks burned a bit more with each number, my ears pulling more tightly against my head. Tears welled up behind the blindfold, as much from shame as from pain. Every lash made my cock jump, spattering a few more drops of precum against the sheets.

I tried to imagine how the scene had to look from the outside, the apex predator whipped, figuratively and literally. The next stripe of pain caught me off-guard, landing just above the first. “Three!” My voice broke. Not even halfway and you’re crying. Sissy. The imagined words sent a wave of warmth and embarrassment down my back and made my balls twitch, like I was going to cum just from the thought. Another whistle, and the backs of my thighs lit up. “Four!” I drew in a ragged breath, tensing all over.

“Oh, poor kitten.” Mistress’ voice poured like honey into my ears, rich with her amusement and arousal. The smell of her had thickened with every blow, rolling around in my nostrils. “I’m pulling my punches, and I’m not even that strong.” She pressed her paw gently against one abused rump cheek and rubbed, warmth overriding the pain. “I’d better stop, or I might actually hurt you.”

“I… I’m sorry, ma’am.” My voice cracked again.

I felt her moving in front of me, her tail briefly brushing against my muzzle, and then her fingers were at the back of my head. “It’s okay, pet. I have a better way you can work off those strokes.” The fur of her thighs brushed against my cheeks, and then her scent was full and rich below me. “Lick, kitty,” Mistress hissed as she tugged my collar. “Back of tongue only.” I mewled softly, squirming against my bonds, but I did as she ordered, careful to keep my tongue curled. Blind, I worked by feel and taste, caressing her labia, then dipping down to circle the opening of her tunnel, before rising to carefully glide around her clit.

The lingering sting in my rump and the burning in my cheeks had me almost in a trance. I poured my arousal and shame into my servitude, letting Mistress’ moans guide my tongue. As her breath rose and fell, I followed her gasps, hoping to make her cum, but the sudden chime of the doorbell snapped me sharply of the reverie. She groaned in response, and then I felt her pull away from me. “And that’s the rest of your lesson.” I heard her boots hit the floor, and then steps as she left the room. She closed the door behind her, and then I was alone with the scent of her arousal lingering in my muzzle.

It felt like several minutes passed while I squirmed against my ropes. I had a little slack, but only enough to shift my weight from one side to the other. I started to think that making me wonder what she was doing was part of my punishment. Before long, though, the bedroom door opened, and Mistress’ voice came through. “—n here. I was just getting him warmed up.” I caught whiff of a second scent, male, canine, and very earthy, but I couldn’t place it.

Then I heard his voice, faintly accented, and recognition flared. “I have to tell you, I’ve been—”

“Paul?” The name was out of me before I could stop it. The thought of any of my coworkers seeing me like this was enough to freeze my blood. Imagining his expression as he stared at me, naked and bound, made me thrash against my restraints. “Sarah, what’s—”

Mistress’ cane landed sharply on my hip, an echo of the earlier stripes. “Did I tell you to speak, pet?”

Her words cut across my panic. “No, ma’am,” I whimpered in response. My head was swimming, my heart pounding in my chest.

“He’s usually much better behaved.” The switch bounced lightly against my side, emphasizing her words.

“No worries,” Paul drawled casually. “How should we handle this?” One of his paws rested on my back, his claws drumming against my spine like I were a piece of furniture. The thought and the touch made my cock jump and a moan escaped my muzzle.

The bed rustled, and then Mistress’ paw slowly brushed down my shoulder and back. “There’s lube and some condoms in the drawer by my bed. Take your time getting ready; he’s not going anywhere.” Her breath was suddenly warm against my ear, her voice that heady whisper. “I can hear your heart pounding, kitty, so let’s talk. Lemon-drop.”

Hearing her use my safeword, I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I wasn’t ready to run, but my heart was still racing. “Okay, but… that’s Paul. From work. I—”

“I’ve already talked with him,” Mistress said quietly, still brushing my back with her paw. Behind her I could hear my coworker muttering to himself. “You said you thought you’d be okay if he knew, so I reached out to him and he’s fine with everything. Around six o’clock, I asked him if he knew where you were. He said you were out with your team, and I explained where I thought you were supposed to be. He offered to help. I told him to wait ten minutes after you left, then come over. Okay?”

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. My chest was still pounding, but I was breathing easier, and I couldn’t deny being turned on by the exposure; my cock was drooling precum onto the bed and every touch sent a fresh shiver down my spine. “So, kitty,” Mistress continued as she sat back, restoring scene. “We’re going to clear up a few misconceptions. One, when I say you’re going to let me know when you’re going to be late, you will let me know. Is that understood, pet?”

Paul groaned loudly behind me, punctuating Mistress’ words. “Yes, ma’am,” I moaned into the mattress, lifting my rump in the air.

“Two.” She gripped my scruff around my collar, and a second pair of paws landed on my back. “When somebody teases you about being whipped, kitten, you’re to remember rule number one, which is…?”

I blushed hard, ears flattening against my head, knowing that Paul would hear me, but I couldn’t stop myself. “You own me, ma’am, and I’m glad to be owned.”

“Three.” The bed shifted as Paul knelt behind me, and I felt his paws spread my rumpcheeks. “I don’t ask you what you do with your time, kitten, but mine isn’t yours to waste.” A cold dollop of lube fell on my pucker, making me wince, but it warmed quickly as my coworker positioned the head of his shaft against it. “So, we’re going to play hurry-up-and-wait. Paul?”

Paul’s response was a grunt and groan as he pushed himself into me, forcing me open. I’d been pegged before, Mistress riding me with a strap-on, but it had been some time and I was out of practice, so there was a lot of pain mixed with the pleasure of his cock filling me. His paws moved to my hips, and then he began to ride me, long slow strokes in and out. I did my best to match his movements, but he was bigger than I was expecting, and my heart was still thumping in my chest. All I could really manage was to squirm against my bonds and whimper into the mattress while my cock bounced under me with every one of his thrusts.

All the while Paul rode me, I could feel Mistress sitting beside me, her finger lightly rubbing my scruff and stroking the backs of my ears. You’re being fucked by your coworker, I heard in my head, my shaft throbbing at the thought. Everybody’s going to smell him on you on Monday. They’ll know your secret. You’re the sissy. You’re the slave. Was she saying it? Was I just imagining it? I started to grind back against the wolf, losing myself into the embarrassment, the exposure.

Something sharp and hard rammed into my pucker, and I heard Paul whine. His muttering got louder and growls started punctuating his words. His thrusts started coming shorter, harder, faster. Another stab ran up from under my tail, and I realized what he was trying to do. “Ma’am?” I managed to whimper. Despite my arousal, I knew what was coming. “He’s… he’s trying…” His hips ground urgently against my rump. “Oh, gods… too much…”

Mistress’ paw tugged at my collar. “What’s rule number one, kitty?”

I tried to respond, but Paul’s insistence made it hard to focus. “You o-own me, ma’am, and… and I’m….” My chest was starting to feel tight again, my voice shaking. “I’m glad to… to be owned.”

“That means your tailhole is mine, too,” Mistress cooed, kneading my neck. “To use or give away, doesn’t it? That means that—unless you safeword—Paul’s going to tie with you. He says it’s about… oh… two hours or so for that to go down enough to get free.”

“T-tie?” My voice cracked. “Bu-but…” Paul’s knot slammed against my pucker again, grinding more urgently against me. “Oh gods…”

“I’m getting close,” Paul huffed behind me, his claws digging into my hips. “Say it or take it, kitty.”

I bit my lip, whimpering into the mattress. “I… I…” For an instant, I thought about safewording, but then I clamped down on my tongue, and agony blossomed behind me, followed a moment later by a wave of pure bliss as I clamped down on Paul’s knot. My coworker bent over me, whining, and then let out a howl as he jammed himself deep into me. Heat rippled up from my guts, and I shot my own load into the mattress, collapsing with a groan into the puddle a few seconds later.

Mistress’ paw brushed my cheek. “Status, kitten,” she murmured in the suddenly still room.

I shook my head to try to clear it. “I… hurt, ma’am, but… feels so good. Paul’s heavy. Arms starting to tingle. Ashamed. Loved.”

I could feel Mistress’ smile in the brush of her lips against mine. “Good kitty.” She shifted off the mattress, and I heard her fussing with the straps. Then the tension in my arms and legs vanished, and I felt her paw at my hip. “Let’s get you two on your sides.” He groaned his assent, and we managed to roll over, with the wolf’s arm under my head. “Paul, do you need anything?”

“Towel might be nice,” Paul groaned behind me. “And some water.” I heard Mistress’ steps head into the bathroom, then come back, and something soft fell on my hip. “Other than that….” He moved behind me and pain spasmed up my spine, dragging a hiss out of me. “Nothing for it. We’ll have to wait.”

Mistress’ gloved paw brushed my cheek again. “Then I’ll get you some water, and I’ll be back in a few hours. If you’re free before then, kitty, come get me. I’ll be in the living room.” I vaguely nodded, and the world drifted around me.

A light jostle at my shoulder brought me back to attention. “Status, kitten?”

I squirmed against the wolf behind me. “Still sore, ma’am. Warm.”

“Paul?”

“Oh, fine. Just about…” Paul shifted, making me spasm again, but I felt his paw at my hip. “Yeah, I think… ready?” Without waiting for an answer, he shifted away, slowly but insistently pulling his knot out of me.

A last spasm of pain ran up my spine, followed by a wave of relief as he withdrew from my stretched tailhole. My pucker burned from the abuse. “Ow.” I put a paw against my rump, rubbing the bruises to distract myself from the ache. “Oh… oh gods.”

One of Mistress’ bare paws carefully removed the blindfold, the other resting on my shoulder. “How’s the condom, Paul?”

“Feels intact; the tip’s still full.” Paul sat up, and my back was suddenly cold. “Care to check it?”

Mistress’ shook her head. “No, go ahead. Robert?”

I drew in a sharp breath and let it out with a smile, sliding back out of scene. “Yes, Sarah?”

Sarah gently gripped my shoulder. “Seriously, full status.” Her blue eyes, set in her black-furred mask, were wide and shimmering. “I just pushed a lot of boundaries. I want to know how you feel.”

I rolled onto my back, staring up to the ceiling. “I’m…” I put my paws behind my head. “Hearing Paul’s voice was a shock; I was terrified you’d outed me to the whole office. The knot was more than I was ready for, but not more than I could handle. That was two hours?”

“About… thirty minutes,” Paul said from the edge of the bed.

“It felt like days,” I replied, shaking my head. “I hurt, but it’s a really good hurt.”

Sarah lay down beside me; she’d taken off the rest of her clothes and curled up naked against my side. “I told you when we started this that I would test your limits. You said you were afraid of exposure, and you were scared of being seen as weak. I figure my job as your mistress, as well as your mate, is to help you get over those fears.”

I nodded and tugged at my collar, looking towards my coworker; the wolf sat with his elbows on his knees, wiping at his fur with the towel. “I’m still afraid of what happens on Monday.”

Paul barked a laugh. “You tell folks you and Sarah kissed and made up, and I tell folks about the sweet bit of tail I found after I left the bar. Nobody has to know more than that.”

I shook my head. “I…” I drew in a deep breath, then sighed. “I don’t want to be afraid any more.”

Sarah put her arm around my waist and hugged herself to me. “Bobby, I’m not asking you to bare every detail of what we do, but I think you have a lot of reasons to be proud of who you are, and I don’t think that pride will hurt your career.”

I nodded, but my attention was still on Paul. “What do you think will happen if I… if I wear my collar to work?”

Paul shrugged. “Assuming anybody even notices, they’ll think it’s a nice piece of jewelry. The ones who know what it means probably won’t say anything. The ones who do, you can tell ‘em to take it up with her.”

“Then…” I held still for a moment, then turned to my mate and mistress. “With your permission, ma’am, I’d like to start wearing it out more.”

Mistress smiled at that and kissed my shoulder. “Of course, kitty. You remember rule number one, don’t you?”

I smiled. “You own me, ma’am, and I’m glad to be owned.”