Fair Game - Part 2
"You had best be on your way then; even a Kzin of my name cannot
keep a student such as you from his studies for long. Tomorrow is a day
of rest for us both, and so a day of adventure. Study well, Shaper of
Swords. Your life changes tomorrow."
"It already has, sir," Shaper said, bowing his head and closing his
eyes in respect. Then he departed.
At the sixth *izit* past the dawn, Shaper stood in the designated
transit station, awaiting K'narl's arrival. He did not wait long; a
short transit train rolled out of the airlock with the stripes of a
privileged user emblazoned upon the sides soon rolled out. Shaper noted
that the priority markings were very low for an urban vehicle; most
metropolitan vehicles would have priority over this. The door opened
and K'narl's head poked out. "Come, my young Shaper of Swords. Come
meet your companions."
Names and labels were passed around as Shaper stepped into the
train. The names stunned him; some of the Kzin in this tube were among
the most famous on all of Kzandor! He asked K'narl.
"The training one receives in this field will serve you well on the
field of battle. No worship of Gods, Kzin or Human, will serve you as
well as the secrets of stealth and defense you learn here." K'narl was
silent for a moment. "I must warn you, Shaper, of a danger in this
game."
"A danger, sir?"
"Yes. When I interviewed you, I asked if your mating had been
successful. I wanted to be assured that you functioned fully as a male
Kzin before inviting you to this most male of games. As you can well
imagine, for every success there is a loss; someone must lose." K'narl
paused for a moment. "Some learn to enjoy losing."
"Impossible!" Shaper said. "No self-respecting Kzin would want to
lose."
"They hide it well," K'narl said. "Those we find in that state we
exclude from the game; they are not worth the fight. Sometimes we use
them for... amusement." He chuckled, rumbling. "We are a very decadent
lot in many ways. But there is a pleasure in losing, even to those of
us who hate it. To know you have met an irresistible force, and that
force is one like you, and that you may one day be like him... There is
a pleasure in that. There is even a bodily pleasure, Shaper, in the act
of losing. You enjoy the burn of a deserved wound as well as any Kzin.
This is much like that.
"Do not learn to like losing too much. You must put your muscle
and bone into winning, Shaper. As your sponsor, I will not be
dishonoured."
"I shall win, sir."
"Good."
The train came to a halt and the occupants departed. Shaper felt
lost amidst such eminence and fame, but he managed to keep something of
a proud demeanor to himself as he conversed respectfully with the other
participants in the day's *fooch*. They were led into a large room,
walled and floored in stone, apparently buried underground. Shaper was
surprised to watch an older Kzin mount a platform at one end. "Who here
is the newest one?"
Shaper realized that the elder must have meant him. He approached
the platform and knelt. "I, sir."
"Welcome, then. You know not what awaits you. This is your order.
Take this package. Down that hallway are doors. Find the eleventh.
Close yourself within and open the package. Follow the directions
precisely. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"The rest of you know which rooms are yours, and you know how to
begin. Go."
Shaper took the package as directed and walked down the hallway;
several other Kzin followed him, taking to other doors and passing him
by. He found the eleventh and entered, closing the door behind him.
He tore open the package. A sheet of paper within directed him
that a signal would be given for him to leave the room and enter the
fooch, following the yellow lights to the door he was to use. Also in
the package he found a foil packet that fit easily within his hands.
The directions instructed him to stroke himself to excitement, and to
apply the contents of the packet to his erect penis as he masturbated.
Shaper manipulated his sheath as instructed, embarrassed at first,
but as the blood flowed into his groin and his excitement grew he became
more aroused. The embarrassment faded. His erection grew, standing out
from his body. With a pause, he tore open the foil packet. A thick
white fluid flowed onto his palm, and he applied it to his shaft,
stroking insistently. The fluid was slick, greasy. He smiled,
recognizing it... the priests had offered him much the same substance.
No! he realized as he breathed deep. There was more to this than
merely a grease to make penetration easier. There was mating scent in
this fluid! His heart began to pound, his erection grew solid as stone
as he masturbated. He laughed, his wildest need to take someone,
something overwhelming him.
Then the door flew open.
Startled at first, Shaper realized that was the sign for him to
leave. He leapt for the door, grabbing the doorway just in time to keep
from slamming into the far wall in his haste. He glanced left, then
right; nobody was to be seen. He found the yellow lights; they led him
up a sloping hallway with an open hatch at the end. He nearly leapt
into the air as he exited into the darkened *fooch*.
He was alone. His instincts as a hunter overtook him, and he
rolled for brush. There were no *foochseth* in this park, no game to be
hunted but his fellow Kzin, and no reason for rest until the act was
over and you claimed your kill. And he knew that he, too, was hunted.
Someone desired him as their "kill" as well.
He froze, unmoving, and listened. Not an easy task; his own heart
beat like the throbbing drive of a fusion ground tank. But as he
listened he heard the subtle sounds of someone moving in the brush.
Someone near.
Was it a trap? The thought that two or more Kzin might join up and
"share" a "prize" occurred to him. To be raped by one was enough, he
thought... to have two or three take their turns with him was more
horrible than he wanted to imagine. He shuddered. Nothing to be done
about it. He merely thought about his training. "You scream and you
leap."
There wouldn't even be a scream this time. He crawled slowly,
silently, through the thick jungle brush. A light rain began, and he
smiled; it would cover his noise. His target wasn't too far away. He
was downwind of the other, even; he could smell his victim. And from
the wetness in his fur Shaper knew he had a Kzin and not an animal.
He caught a glimpse of orange through the green, a sight of Kzin
moving slowly through the brush, looking back and forth. He leapt,
roaring only after his feet had left the ground.
The other Kzin whirled, dodging. Shaper cursed, recognizing the
move. A human trick. Akido.
But not entirely. The other Kzin was still Kzin. He answered the
challenge, leaping upon Shaper as Shaper rolled and came to a crouch.
They tumbled against a heavy bush, and it gave way underneath their
weight.
They were not here to wrestle, Shaper reminded himself. The
thought of losing ran through his mind, feeding his rage. He shoved the
other Kzin off of him and sent him sprawling against a tree. The Kzin
roared in pain and spun, digging claws into the bark of the tree to
scrabble to a standing position. Shaper circled through the covering
brush until he was behind his victim. The other Kzin kept looking back
and forth, searching for his attacker. He turned all the way around
only in time to see Shaper leap and scream once again, his shoulder
landing square in his victim's chest. The other snarled in pain and
surprise as a claw came down and ripped against his arm.
Shaper smelled the blood, and like the mating scent slipped into
the grease it drove him into a wild frenzy of lust. The other Kzin
wasn't doing well, but he was trying. He was fighting. Shaper knew he
liked it that way, knew he liked this hunt. If only females were like
this!
The other Kzin, slowed by his pain and bleeding, attempted to
strike a blow to Shaper's kidneys, but Shaper seized his arm and tossed
the Kzin over his shoulder, sending him sprawling along the mud-strewn
ground face-first. Brushing the falling rain from his eyes, he looked
down and saw his victim's buttocks shoved in the air. He remembered
again why he was here. Looking down, his erection was insistent within
his body, and he slid it out into his palm. The other Kzin was
attempting to rise, but Shaper snarled and shoved him back to the mud.
"Down!" he roared.
He closed his left hand about the scruff at the back of his
victim's neck, and with his right aimed his penis downwards, shoving
hard. The loser howled in despair as Shaper penetrated his anus.
The heat, the tightness, were things Shaper was completely
unprepared for. He growled in appreciation as this male Kzin gave him a
pleasure he had earned fully and with a warrior's prowess. He raped the
losing Kzin, listening with pleasure to his howls of agony, watching as
the other clawed desperately at the ground, trying to crawl away from
the penetrating dishonor of Shaper's sex buried within his guts.
Shaper took his pleasure viciously, clawing his victim, watching
the rain take the blood in little rivulets. He bucked against his
buttock, feeling the hardened warrior's flesh give way underneath him,
lose utterly to him. As he approached his climax, he lost all control,
becoming nothing but the feral beast that was his animal heritage, his
Kzinda-given right!
He roared as he climaxed, shoving himself deep within his victim
over and over to take as much of his final moments as he could. And
then it was finished.
He rose, slowly and unsteadily, listening. The room had had no
more than thirty Kzin in it; it was easily possible that none had been
in earshot for much of the fight, but surely everyone had heard his
final roar.
Someone had. A party of four Kzin, each wearing the black of a
*fooch* administrator, came running through the brush. Shaper pointed
down to the figure in the mud. "I..." he gasped. "I claim my kill. He
requires medical attention." He felt tired, almost faint. He looked
down and saw the enormous bloody tears in both thighs the other Kzin had
clawed during the struggle. Just before he passed out, he said "As do
I..."
"How long have I been unconscious?"
"Only a few *izit*," K'narl assured him. "You were in no danger.
We have healed your legs; the fur will grow eventually, and there will
be no scarring. You did not give us directions regarding scar
treatments, and we fall on the side of discretion."
"I understand," Shaper of Swords replied.
"Your honor is intact, as is that of your victim. He lost, but he
went down fighting, as did you. Congratulations." Shaper nodded,
sitting up off the thin mattress. "Tell me what you think."
"It is a dangerous game," Shaper said, answering the elder's
command instantly. "The prey is always your equal; we could have killed
one another."
"There is no shame in that. You are nameless, still, although I
will petition Shufthah-ritt to have that changed soon. You are
deserving. Your art is of no mean quality, and your talent as a warrior
is well and powerful. You would be a welcome addition, should the
Fourth Truce with Man ever collapse. Welcome, Shaper of Swords, to our
little organization."
"Thank you," Shaper replied. "I shall honor your welcome."
"See that you do. Now, rest. The train leaves in four *izit.*
Heal until then." K'narl rose and left.
