Tag Archive | kittytown

Deep Deep Down in Kitty Town

The hood over Rrrina’s head smelled of menthol and nothing else, the world around her was muffled and her ears pinned against her head, and she was bound. Usually, when she ended up in this position, someone wanted to do something a bit naughty to her. This time… well, she wasn’t ruling it out, but she thought that “naughty” might be in a completely different context than she was used to.

And she was being carried again, carried by a skin-job, a leopard in a man’s body. This had to be the weirdest her life had been in – in – maybe in ever.

She was too turned around to have any sense of direction, the menthol in the hood made it impossible to navigate by scent, and her porter kept bouncing her, making it very hard to count steps. Had he stolen her? That’s what he’d said. But stealing slaves was – it was bad, very bad. And her head felt funny. Something in the menthol? Something… this was bad.

Rrrina came to on a cushion, in a warm place that felt like sunshine. Three sets of training came into play, and she opened her eyes only halfway while letting her other senses take inventory.

The cushion was comfortable, soft, and warm. The heat was too omnidirectional to be sunlight, but maybe a sun lamp? It was bright but not unbearably so, and the light seemed to be coming from above. Her nose was still clogged, but, even so, she could smell other cats.

She opened her eyes. The floor, the fixtures – all white. In front of her, a lab-coat person. Her eyes opened further. A lab-coat-wearing feline, jaguar spots, now that was new. Her captor was there, too, shedding out of his overalls. He met Rrrina’s gaze and smiled. It looked wrong, too feline in his human face

“Good, you’re awake. Welcome to the Feline Rebellion.”

After Down in Kitty Town, Entering Kitty Town, and Kit Town Maybe.

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More Please: Kit Town Maybe? A continuation of Tir na Cali

After Down in Kitty Town and Entering Kitty Town.

The big man was warm. Warmer than a human. Rrrina settled in his arms, since she couldn’t get away anyway, and sniffed him as surreptitiously as she could.

He smelled, under everything, of a bit of musk. Like holding her was making something happen in his pants. Like… She twisted upwards to peer at his face. “Skin job.”

She was quiet about it. She didn’t want to make him angry: he wasn’t wearing a collar and she was; he was bigger than her and clearly stronger; and he smelled like a tom cat that wanted to mate. Every instinct she had told her not to piss him off.

Still, he pulled her tighter against his chest, squishing her in all sorts of nearly-uncomfortable manners. “What did you say, little kitty?” His hiss was warm and angry in her ear.

She peeked up at him. “You’re a skin job.” Her ears were raked back but she kept her voice as quiet as she could. “You look human, but you’re cat.”

“Technically leopard. You’re good, little kitten. You’re going to be really useful.”

“I’m good at being useful.” The well-trained answer slipped out of her mouth, followed by a soft mewl. “But then he sold me. Are you… “

“Shh, little one. We’re almost there. Then you will understand it all.”

Rrrina fell quiet again. He smelled nice. Too nice; her body wanted him, and she wasn’t in a position to do anything at all about it. And then he slipped a hood over her face and not only could she not see anything, she couldn’t even smell anything.

She started with “hey!” and ended with a long hiss. The hood stank of menthol, like a cough drop factory. “Hey,” she repeated.

“Shh. This part’s a secret, little kitten.” He pulled the hood tight, and she could no longer hear much of anything, either. It sounded like he said “sit tight.”

Not that she had any choice.

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Down in Kitty Town, a drabble of Tir na Cali for the Giraffe Call

For [personal profile] lilfluff‘s prompt.

Tír na Cali has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ.

“I need you to head up to Oregon City,” Miles told her.

“One of the seventeen people up there causing trouble?” she joked weakly. She’d had plans for the weekend, but Miles had a way of knowing these things and sabotaging them.

“It’s not, technically, Oregon City. Not anymore.” He passed her the data pad with the file. “Baroness Maeve deeded a square of it to a daughter of one of her slaves, a moddie. And her daughter, Baroness Sybil, expanded that to two square miles. Autonomous. Her own law there.”

“She can… yeah. She can do that, can’t she? If the Countess above her doesn’t object, she can call on the Yseult precedent.”

“Exactly. But what I’ve got now is the granddaughter of two moddies – Agency moddies, mind you, not skin jobs – who controls her own territory. And Vrrronica ni Annawrrra – don’t forget the triple R when you talk to her – who has, I’ll note, been ennobled by Baroness Sybil – Lady Vrrronica has set herself up a little moddie town.”

“Moddie town.” Irena stared at the notes. “And you want me to…”

“Put on those cat ears you wear so well and go looking into it. They can’t tell a skinjob from a deep job if the acting is good enough, and I know you can do it. You did really well in the ni Uhura case last year.”

Irena sighed. “All right. Rrrina it is. But Miles… I had hairballs for a month last time.”

“It’s a deep cover operation,” her boss smiled. “It’s good for hazard pay, and I’ll put you in for a week leave someplace with a nice big spot of sun, too.”

She scratched behind one ear. “All right. Since I can’t really say no, anyway.”

“Ain’t government service grand?” Her boss’s grin stretched to downright shit-eating. “Have fun in kitty-town.”

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