The door came up with a swoosh, and the smell hit him like being slammed in the head with a pipe—or more appropriately, in the gut with one. His nostrils flared as his lips curled back to reveal teeth and gum protruding and becoming fang-like. Truu walked into his home with murder on the mind. The door swooshed closed behind him, leaving him alone with the bare walls of his narrow hallway which extended another six-feet and led directly out to a large octagon-shaped living room with no furniture. The octagoned-shaped left side of the room was made up of glass walls that protruded outside the building's structure. On top of the glass wall was a domed glass ceiling that ran up and into the cement structure: it let you view the full skyline of Boom City. On the right wall, just when the hallway ends, was a door that led to the kitchenette. And through the kitchenette there was the bedroom and the shower room.
"Acinonyx!" Truu growled, his stomach turning. His ears had become barbed and began to twitch, listening for movement. He felt the Change coming, but kept it at bay.
The kitchenette door opened and a girl's head of seventeen popped out. She was all smiles as her yellow bangs begain to fall over her eyes, her hair nearly touching ground.
"Truu!" the girl said, happily. "Were have you . . ." —she blew her bangs away with a audible puff of air— ". . . been . . . ?" Her eyes went wide as she saw him for the first time: naked and covered with blood, hunched over with fangs and claws exposed. Behind those wide eyes of the seventeen year old laid a silent message: We're screwed!
If Truu saw this, he did not care. He began to move forward as the girl shot out of the door wearing a black glossy rudder tank-top and skin-tight pant with the right part cut off at the hip leaving the leg bare; her rippled pink socks and black shine-plastic combat boots clanged on the tiles in the hallway as she came running up to him. "T-Truu . . ."
"That smell . . ."
"We. Have. Company . . ." the girl said, pushing him back to the door he'd just came through. But it was too late. Truu heard the movement before the two women passed the kitchenette door. They almost caught him before he was able to retreat his fangs and claws, the nakedness and gore he could do nothing about.
The two elderly women came through with their white blouses and matching gray jackets and skirts and black prision-guard's shoes. Apparently they refused to acknowledge the Skin Triibe's fetish influence over Boom City fashion. Truu passively wandered which of the twenty-four Triibes—the growing global-wide trend set off by Generation Zers proclaiming the called twenty-two styles of fashion collected from the 1930s to today as their recognized Nationality—would fall into. People of every age adapted to the Triibes yet still Truu doubted there was a Triibe for them. He guessed they are what Triibers called fashion victims.
The women's hands came up to clasp their mouths' to stop the gasp that escaped anyway. The girl tried to cover him as best she could, but Truu was a big man. She gave up and turned to both Truu and the elderly women.
"The stakes are done," the girl said with a smile.
-
Acinonyx blew her yellow bangs from her face again and stared at her stake. She looked across the kitchenette table to see Truu, showered and freshly clothed, stare at his as well. The two elderly women on the other hand wolfed down their stakes as if the whole hallway incident had never happened.
"So," one of the elderly women had finally said, looking up with a mouthful of stake. Her name was Ms. Lodging. Her slender face was sagged as if she was a wax figure that has been out in the sun for too long. She was the tallest of the two and still had the audacity to wear make-up, a much wasted cause. Truu couldn't help but associate her with one of those old boarding school teachers who wore nothing but black and never got laid. "So, will you take the case Mr. Truu?"
The other woman looked up to see Truu's reply. Her name was Ms. Ward, and by the roundness of her fat face, you could tell she was one to enjoy fine foods. She was every grandchild's nightmare: a double chin with long white hairs that could cut like razors, and most likely, a hug a bear would be envois of. When Truu didn't reply two seconds later, she had her face in the stake again.
"By what you say, Ms. Lodging," Truu answered three seconds later, "this is definitely a case of high boomer activity . . . why not go to Didijio Prime, why come to a free-lancer?" But Truu already knew the answer. Didijio Prime are puppets for the Establishment, and a bunch of stuck up asses that still did everything by the books. If you wanted boomer activity handled in an unique way, you'll go to the didijio free-lances.
"You haven't touched your lovely stake, Mr. Truu," Ms. Lodging said, ignoring his question.
"I ate last night," Truu said and didn't press his question any further. He was paid to act, not to know.
Ms. Lodging seemed relieved by this and she smiled to tell him so. "Will you take the case, Mr. Truu?"
"Yes."
She turned from Truu to see Acinonyx staring at both of them. "And did you eat last night as well, Ms. Jubatus?" she asked, clearly happy with Truu's response.
"No, and it's Mrs., we're married."
Ms. Lodging lost her smile for a second, then turned away from the girl to see the thirty-six year old man looking at his plate. "W-well I guess this concludes our business together." She got up just as Ms. Ward was finishing off the T-bone. She got up along with Truu and the three walked out of the kitchenette. Only Ms. Ward said goodbye to Acinonyx, who stayed at the table. When Truu came back from showing the two elderly women out, he found the women's plates had been cleared and the two uneaten cooked stakes replaced by two raw ones. It made Truu's mouth water. The Beast still imposed some of its nature on the host.
Acinonyx was sitting in her original seat. Truu walked across and sat in his. They both had big smiles on their faces.
"I'm sorry about the cooking thing," Acinonyx said before she bit into the stake with her fork.
"Me too," Truu replied just before lifting the raw stake to his mouth with his hands. He took a large bite out of it as the blood juices trekked down his bearded chin. He got a big chunk of fat and chewed on it vigorously. Truu was a happy man.
Before Acinonyx was able to take her third bite, Truu took his last bite of stake with his eyes closed, his face and goatee-beard smeared and dripped blood. He started to lick the blood from his lips with his tongue.
"Stop," Acinonyx said, pushing her plate aside. She jumped on the table and walked over to him. She bent down and took Truu's head with both of her hands. She began to lick the blood off of his face.
Truu kept his eyes closed and gave himself to her in complete surrender. Her rough tongue and hot breath upon his flesh drove him wild. Acinonyx lifted him up off his chair as her back fell on the table. She never once took her tongue from his face as he crawled on top of her. Acinonyx began to purr loudly as she felt her teeth become fang-like, her Beast stirring. She desperately searched for Truu's mouth and tongue, finding it, she began to bite down hard on the chewy muscle. Her body turned hot when she realized just how much she wanted him in her and how fast the Change was coming. The cat wanted out. The friction between the two was reaching meltdown. The heat could melt brick. She felt her claws protruding as she ripped through the back of Truu's white rubber shirt, ripped through flesh as she raked his back over and over in a mad frenzy, feeling Truu's blood trek down his body to fall on her bare waist. The irises of her green eyes became slits as they adjusted to the light in the room. She threw her legs around him, trapping him in her frenzied embrace; her bare thigh rubbed against the smoothness of her rubbered leg.
Then she felt the needle-like pain erupt throughout her as her breasts became more firm and tender. For the first time she became acutely aware of the pressure of Truu's weight upon her. She began to squirm underneath him, letting the mad sensations explode in her, fuelling her to go on like a sun that didn't know when to go down. The fine line between pleasure and pain broke down, giving way to sensations that no human has a right to feel.
Acinonyx let go of Truu's tongue as her head began to shift, taking on feline quality. Whiskers broke out, giving her a new level of perception and metallic-yellow, black-spotted fur sprouted over her body, ripping through rubber tank top and pant, socks and boots.
"C-Change," she said.
And Truu took to the Change.
The table collapsed under their shifting weight, sending them crashing to the ground and rolling over and over broken wood till they could no longer lay on top of each other; till the metallic wolf and cheetah stood on all fours, circling each other. Their tails wagged as if the place was besieged by flies. It was Acinonyx, with her slender, muscular frame and ball-metal yellow black-spotted hair that sprouted out the top of her head and her back like a horse's mane, who attacked first. Leaping at Truu with incredible speed, the cheetah slapped the wolf on its back. She jumped on him, clawing and nipping with her claws and fangs. But it was Truu who out matched her in height, weight and strength. The wolf threw the cheetah off, sending her crashing into a counter. She stood on all fours, dazed, as Truu jumped on her, pinning her down. They both slashed and hissed at each other, growling and snapping their powerful jaws, but Truu kept her pinned.
Then he entered her.
He clawed her back just as she did earlier. Standing on his hind legs and leaning on top of her for balance; no better than dogs in the street. They both yelped and whimpered with each one of Truu's powerful thrusts. And again, the fine line broke down. Before they knew it, Truu, like a dam assaulted by the pressure of too much water, exploded, sending the last waves of pain and pleasure through a spent Acinonyx. Depleted, they both fell upon broken pieces of wood as Acinonyx rolled on her back and exposed her tummy to the world, throwing her head back and forth, her back shifting and moving like trying to scratch an unreachable itch. Her purrs were deafening. Truu laid on his side, breathing hard, his tongue hanging out. He occasionally lifted his head to lick off some imaginary dirt, only to have his head plop back down.
That night, and long into the morning, the people of the high-rise apartment of Jos Codao heard the mad howls and growls coming from the didijio's apartment, but they paid them no mind.
It wasn't like they didn't hear any of it before.
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