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Ego vampires steal your breath

Publicize up your anonymous death

Spiraling vultures follow your fate

When will you unleash your hate?

The bass snarl that punctuated the lyrics was so severe that I could feel it in my chest rather than my ears. It was that same fluttering of the diaphragm after recovering from a punch to the gut. Some people claim that a song takes their breath away--but when you're standing as close to the amps and speaker towers as I was it was a literal phenomenon.

Guitar wails floated over the turbid sea of stomach-churning growls. Every once in a while, the fuzzy whine of the tortured amps managed to make itself heard over what even I would struggle to call "music." I was at the front, staring up and over the security divide at Pig, Johnny, Valentine, and Rex as the stage lights swelled. Johnny's drums pounded the rhythm of my heart as Pig's bass line drove nails into it. Valentine's vocals soared an octave as "People Machine" ground to a squealing end.

It was July 16th in Baton Rouge. The sun had long since swan-dived below the false horizon of the Tiger Stadium's open-topped walls and the moon was out in force. Stars were up there too, probably, but no one could see them over the light show on stage. The dry heat had scorched the crowd to a sweaty mess, and the cool summer night air stank with the musk of fifty thousand assorted animals watching the concert set up at the fifty yard line. I'd paid two hundred bucks for pit tickets to see 'em. My ears hurt. My shoulders hurt. Someone had punched me in the jaw and it was swelling a bit. I'd returned the favor, and we'd screamed at each other. He was a dog, so I called him a crazy bitch. Since I was a rabbit, he just called me lunch. We punched knuckles, smiled wild grimaces, and went our separate ways. Money well fucking spent.

The other opening bands had been shit. First there'd been some forgettable emo posers, with black ink dye still fresh in their fur. Their lead singer had been a lemur, and eyes that big just couldn't look dark and troubled. Their stage presence was in the negative. After that was some old stoner band no one had listened to in a decade, and fuck if they didn't look it. Grey muzzles, all of them. Dogs with bald patches and half-missing ears and scars. Those scars ran deep. I don't know what they'd been shooting into their veins these last ten years, but it hadn't done them any favors.

Then it was time. This was the whole reason I was here. Love and the Canine Hegemony. Us fans just called them LATCH. On drums we had a bull named Johnny. He had all the manual dexterity of an elephant wearing mittens and played like a Parkinson's patient on caffeine. At least he could keep time. Pig was a girl, although with her body no one bothered to check for proof. She was a massive bear. The bass guitar fit in her hands like a toothpick.

Valentine was the one that got all the fans. There he was, up on stage, with pants dangling so low I could see his stripes zagging down almost illegally. He was a scrawny tiger compared to the other members of the group, but Val didn't project size. He radiated style. He was skinny and barely taller than five foot six, but he wasn't the type of cat that hulked over you. He's the type of cat that just looked at you and made your knees go weak. Class. Passion. Sex. A body that looked like he hadn't eaten in a week and ribs showing through the stripes. Sweat ran down his head and dripped from his lips as he screamed into the mic. Power that wasn't physical. Dominance from sheer force of personality.

Tonight he was standing shirtless in the spotlight with his fly open. The guitar resting over his crotch was the only reason his pants didn't fall down and give us all an entirely different kind of show. He was as tall and proud as a god of rock. His mouth opened for the beginning lines of the next song, and his tongue flicked over viciously long fangs. Valentine wasn't just singing to the mic. He was seducing it.

My heart skipped a beat. I knew that opening riff. It's what I'd been waiting for all night. The drums were followed by a complicated synthetic noise that fit no known instrument, halfway between a theramin and a piece of industrial machinery. That was from the last member of the group, and my personal favorite. Technically, he was keyboard, synths, and the titular mascot. Unlike the other three who were flesh, blood, and sweat, Rex was robotic. Entirely synthetic. From his metal jaws to his wire tail.

He was grand artistry of chrome and steel. Every curve was smooth and rounded, and every straight was sharp as a knife. Sworls of metal design twisted around semitransparent globes, lit from inside and pulsing in time with the music. He was fashioned to look like a dog--a big one like a Rottweiler or German Shepherd. It was obvious he'd been a custom build, made specifically for the stage show. Every bit of him fit the techno-industrial bent of the band. Sexually throbbing lights at every joint. Ergonomically designed speakers set into his side blasted out counter-point to Pig's driving bass.

But even with all that utility, he didn't look like a robot. He didn't_move_like a robot. He was a four-legged dog in robot form. Servo-driven muscles imitated life so closely that he was waving back at me from the far side of the uncanny valley, just artificial enough to avoid being creepy. Rex was industrial down to his titanium bones, but when he prowled around the stage, he stepped with mechanical grace and programmed precision. In short, he was gorgeous.

Right now was the moment. First verse done in Valentine's banshee wail. Pig broke into the chorus while the tiger shucked his guitar and pounced on Rex as he prowled past. It was all perfectly rehearsed. They were all shouting the lyrics now as Rex's light show strobed. Valentine's arm scooped up under Rex's front, lifting him up to show the robot dog off.

He'd been built accurate, right down to the bits Valentine were stroking openly towards the crowd. This was the bit the recordings always censored. Technically, Rex was a mechanism. The red shaft that was being brazenly jacked off right now was legally just a sex toy, and shock rockers had been waving sex toys around on stage for years.

The crowd screamed. Fans like me knew to anticipate it. They pulled this stunt off at every show. They'd been banned in three states because of it, but that'd only made them more famous.

Your shaking legs embody

Submission to the demagogy

Bend your knees and kneel before

The new canine illuminati

In our hands we hold

The only thing that can sate your itch

'Cuz toni-i-i-ight-

Rex 'gonna make you his bitch

Right on cue, the lights pulsed bright. Rex let out a howl, and Valentine's lewd stroking swayed the robotic phallus around side-to-side. Long arcs of liquid sprayed over the front rows of the crowd. I was right where I wanted--no, where I _needed_to be. Arms upraised, it splattered my front. I opened my mouth and got a taste. Rum and coconut. Hell. That was one classy ejaculation.

The song paused for a few seconds as the roar from the crowd reached its own crescendo. Around me, the front row was mostly content with their soaking. A guy next to me took his shirt off and was swinging it around. More the fool, him. More explicit sprays shot from Rex's swaying shaft. Valentine was aiming it at the crowd. I knew with the blazing lights glaring down at the stage he wasn't aiming specifically at me, but I got a good helping of it being front-and-center.

On stage, Valentine ground himself against the robot dog lifted against his front. He made the typical guitarist 'lewd' face, with mouth open, tongue out and curled up, and eyes wide. He gave Rex's cock a few more twirls, then let the robotic canid drop back to the stage. The lights swirled around the set. The drum line came back, and the song continued. I screamed until I was hoarse.

Two songs later their set was over and the headlining band took the stage. I gave my front-row spot to some kid who was going crazy when Megaknux started their feature song. They weren't bad, really, but it wasn't my kind of thing. I was here for LATCH.

I gave as good as I got on my way back through the pit. I'd have bruises for days. There was a side exit to the arena--to the backstage area instead of out front to the parking lot. A solid row of security stood in front of it, along with those useless barrier ribbons. _Thump-thump-thump_went Megaknux. There was a crowd of losers around the backstage entrance, each one of them eyeing the security and waiting for any excuse to 'trip' past the line, or sneak past when one of the muscle-clad bouncers weren't looking.

I didn't bother with their antics. I walked straight up to the first guard. He was a thick looking husky with startlingly blue eyes. His eyes narrowed at me. What excuse was I about to throw at him? Family? Friend of the band? Delivery-and-here's-their-pizza-they-said-I-had-to-hand-it-to-them-personally? He looked like he'd had a long night. I don't think he expected me to stretch my shirt out towards him from the hem and exclaim, "I'm here for Rex."

The first time I said it, he ignored it. In fact, his eyes left me entirely, with that thousand-yard gaze of not looking at anything in specific, but specifically not looking at you. I repeated myself. The second time, a guard next to him--a muscular leopard--leaned over and whispered something. The husky's eyes flicked back to me and went wide. The edges of his mouth lifted up in a smile.

I was about as atypical for a LATCH fan as you could get. Most of their fans were aggressive predators. Dogs, cats, wolverines and weasels. You wouldn't expect a lanky bunny like me to be wearing the black t-shirt with Rex's symbol splashed across the front in lurid red and white. But fan I was, and I'd said the magic words. I'd heard the urban legend. Now it was time to find out if it was true--and by the look the husky was giving me it appeared I'd heard right.

He extended a finger and pointed at me, then gestured me forward. He took a hand full of my shirt and lifted it up to his nose. Even through the rank sweat and blood and piss of a big rock tour experience, I knew I still reeked of Rex's "cum". I smelled like Captain Morgan had fucked a coconut. I couldn't hear the guard over the intense beat of Megaknux's music, but it looked like he mouthed the words, "Fuckin' pervert." I'd be offended, but he said it through a tooth-filled smile. My kind of dog.

Much to the dismay of the losers surrounding the backstage entrance, the guard pulled me past the ribbon. A few of them quickly tried to hold out their own shirts in a desperate attempt to mimic my success, which the guards stolidly ignored.

Straight down the hallway, first left, then third green room on the right, the husky told me. Don't 'make a mistake' or they'd have to come down and remove my fluffy ass. Then before I dashed off, the husky leaned down and whispered to me. "Enjoy yourself, lucky bunny." He slapped my ass as I scampered.

I walked with a spring my step. Rumors had been flying on the LATCH fan forums for years. Be at the front during "Rex's Bitch." Get soaked. Then tell the road crew that you're there for Rex, and if you're the first one of the night, they'll let you back to meet Val and Pig. And Rex. It was supposed to be the 'ultimate rock tour experience'. No one on the forums wanted to admit they'd done it, but there'd been oblique references to it everywhere. I had no doubt what I was heading back to get.

There was surprisingly little security in the hallways. The place was wide but low, with bits of discarded stage props leaning up against the walls on either side. I counted out the doors. One, two, three, then gave it a knock.

"Who'zat?" Johnny answered the door. He stood almost twice my height, with thick fingers that were halfway to hooves gripping the doorknob. He spent a good few seconds looking down at me before the smell hit him.

"Oh, man. Val, I think this is yours." Johnny squinted down at me with poorly disguised distaste. His eyes rolled. "I'm goin' out. You faggots have a good night."

He pushed past me, leaving the door open as he went. From inside, a familiar voice called to me. "Don't mind him, kid. What's your name?"

Inside, the room was heavily scented with beer. I shut the door behind me as I stepped in. To one side, the massive form of Pig was collapsed face-down on a mattress. Against the far wall, Val sat on the floor with Rex laid down next to him. Both of their heads turned towards me. Valentine's eyes were strikingly green. He smiled slyly at me. Rex had two slim visors that worked as his eyes, and they were pointed at me.

When I didn't immediately answer, Val laughed. He had a hand on Rex's head and was stroking. I'm not sure whether Rex had some kind of sensors so he could feel the petting, but he acted the part exquisitely. His tail gave a wag that ended in a metallic clunk as it hit the wall.

"If you came this far, you can't have been shy. Come on over here. You can pet him if you want." Valentine's nose twitched, and he gave me a gap-jawed grin. "Hell, it smells like you want to do a lot more than petting, but why don't you start there."

His laugh broke through my shock. Behind the stage-persona, he had a friendly smile. I took off my shirt and threw it at him. He caught it one hand and pulled it to his face. He breathed in through his nose. I knew what he was smelling. Rum and coconut. He lifted the shirt up as I walked towards them and knelt. "Hey, I remember this tour. Remember that Rex? Cincinnati, under the big dome? Great night."

Then Val looked directly at me, piercing me with a lascivious gaze. "Remember that night, Rex? After, when that gazelle girl came down to visit us. Remember the fun we had?" I knew what he was doing. He was making sure I knew exactly what I was getting into. He was giving me a chance to back out. I gave him a knowing smile and pet Rex's head.

Rex sniffed at the shirt. Then the thin sound of a guitar riff emerged from his side-mounted speakers.

I can still remember her face

Thin and dark and beautiful as sin

Curled up comfortably on my bed

As our night dripped down her chin.

I recognized those words. That was from their second album. I also recognized the voice. That was Valentine singing, even if it was coming from Rex's speakers. That he had anything to say at all was a surprise, even if it was with Val's voice. Rex never spoke in interviews. Every time there was a camera in front of him, it was Val up front and Rex lurking in the background. At my questioning glance, Val shrugged. "He's not so much a talker. If he wants to say something, he says it in song."

"Mark. My name's Mark." I said, while running fingers over Rex's ears. Even though they were smooth metal, chrome steel or aluminum or something like it, they felt warm, and they flicked under my hand. He lifted his head and put his muzzle in my palm. A metal nose pushed up and gave the perfunctory gesture of 'sniffing' while I rubbed his snout with curled fingers. He made ever evidence of enjoying it.

"He can feel it. He's got sensors everywhere." Val answered my question before I even asked. It made me wonder how often he did this--but that was a silly question, wasn't it? He had shows across the continent. They played four nights a week, at least. I didn't expect every time he got someone like me, but the question of 'how many' wasn't going to be a small number. I couldn't count to it even given both hands, and at least one of my hands was currently busy.

Rex laid his head in my lap when I sat down, cross-legged in front of the two of them. It was heavy, but not uncomfortably so. It felt strange to 'scratch' metal, but with the way I had him wagging in just seconds gave proof to Val's statement. I stroked down his neck, and he rolled onto his back.

I couldn't help it. I looked. Oh, man, that was everything I'd dreamed about behind those censor bars on the band tour DVDs. It was all metal, but his underside was contoured and textured to look like fur. Or at least, the acid etching and styling looked like the_essence_of fur if you refined it down to its most fur-like components. He gave a growl that sounded like a bass line as I rubbed my hand down between his front legs.

"Well, congratulations, Mark. You didn't run away when he put the goods on display, and he likes you. You want the full tour, then?" I looked up at Val. It surprised me that he'd unzipped his fly. It shouldn't have--what did I think was going to happen? Oh man, those stripes went all the way down. It'd been Rex I'd dreamed about these last years since I first read the rumor of the myth, but I won't deny it--I'd jerked it to Val, too. He was so passionate. So dominant and in-control. He must have noticed my eyes go wide because he gave another one of those deep laughs and jumped to the wrong conclusion.

"Oh, Rexy boy. Why do you always gotta get the cute ones? It's always the same. They want to get their paws all over the dog, but the moment the kitty whips it out they're always so shocked!"

"No! It's just--I didn't-"

"Don't you worry. I know who the real star of the show is." Val reached out and ran his fingers over Rex's belly. The rumble increased. Yeah, that wasn't a purr or a growl. It was a bass guitar. I could feel Rex's speaker vibrating against my leg. "I got over being jealous of this hunk years ago. You two have your fun. I can take care of myself."

Rex lifted his head off of my lap. For chrome and plastic and glass, there was emotion_there. Artificial intelligence. Real fake personality. He didn't just see, he _understood. He looked at me, then he looked at Val. There was something there that went deep--something that I wasn't privy to. Then Rex closed his jaws around my wrist and pulled my hand lower. Ah. It appears the innocent foreplay was over.

I didn't mind. I'd been looking forward to this for months. I'd even imagined what it would feel like. Would it be soft and squishy like silicone, or hard like metal? I'd practiced with a toy I'd sneaked into my dorm--late at night when my roommate was passed-out drunk. To be honest, I expected it to feel like that, rubbery and fake.

Now that I closed my fingers around Rex's sheath, I realized I'd vastly underestimated his craftsmanship. They could have gone cheap. He could have been made with lazy stage props. No one would ever be able to see it clearly, even when they were right up in front of the stage. With the light show and the pyrotechnics and the music--well, anything vaguely penis-shaped would have sufficed.

That wasn't Rex, though. He wasn't even 'showing', and I could already tell that he'd been made with care. He had a sheath made from soft, supple leather. It melded into his metal undercarriage seamlessly. Rex crooned melodically as I ran my fingers over it. My thumb flicked over the opening at the tip and came away wet. I lifted it to my mouth and licked it clean. More coconut than rum. Seems he had a different mix for fun rather than stage. Smart, if he was planning to squirt any of that into me. He chased my hand with a little spurt of the cloudy liquid up across his belly.

"Don't be shy. No one else is watching, and I won't tell." Val commented from the side. He was dangling from the gap in his jeans. He was un-sheathed and un-cut, hanging at half-mast in his own fingers. Fuck. If I hadn't been entirely occupied with the legend I was now stroking, I'd have bent over for him in a heartbeat.

Rex was having none of it, though. The slightest inattention and his mechanical jaws closed on my pants. He gave a yank and the denim ripped.

"Hey!"

"What? You expected him to be tame?" Val laughed at me again.

Well, no. I didn't, did I? I looked down. He'd torn my jeans just above my knee. Between the jagged edges of ripped denim, I could see my own white fur peeking through. Rex looked up at me, proud of his handiwork.

"Keeping those on is a great idea if you want stylish new shreds in 'em." Val remarked.

I couldn't pull them off fast enough. Rex lifted his head far enough for me to tug the hem down to my knees, then 'helped' by sinking his metal teeth into one leg and yanking it off my ankle. The move pulled my ass out from under me, landing me on my back. In an instant, Rex was on top of me.

I'll give him this. He weighed a lot less than I feared. I think under all that shiny chrome was a light-weight skeleton, maybe carbon-fiber or aluminum. His front paws pinned me to the ground while he squirmed onto my chest. I was thankful now for all those smooth curves. If he'd been sharp-edged or spiky, that maneuver would have drawn blood. As it was, I might have a bruise where his hind leg stepped on my thigh, but otherwise he actually felt rather comfortable. I stroked his back and found his metal shell was warm to the touch.

"Aw, you're just a cuddly puppy!" I knew the moment it slipped out that I shouldn't have said it. He let out a snarl (a dissonant e chord) and his jaws closed around my neck. I couldn't move. He was at once gentle yet implacable. He wasn't biting or squeezing, but I got the feeling that if I tried to escape I'd leave my trachea behind.

More surprising was the slithering wet feeling of something pushing against my belly. Liquid seeped into the fur over my stomach, then quickly cooled and dried. Fuck. He was humping my fur. His hips rolled, and his corded tail smacked my uplifted knee. Big puppy? I couldn't have been more wrong. The mix of dominance and _need_was so palpable that it was making my head spin. Or maybe that was the lack of blood flow from the jaws around my neck.

"Rex, I-"

He growled. It sounded like the chorus riff from "Invisible Strings" from LATCH's third album.

"I'm going to turn over, okay?"

The jaws squeezed once, and I felt light-headed. Nnnf. He wasn't the only one with needs. I needed him--right here and now. Jaws opened and paws let me up. With all four of his legs to either side of me, I turned over onto my belly, then pushed my rump up for him. Something hard and wet bounced off my tail. Fuck, I had to feel that before it went into me. I reached back with one hand and wrapped my fingers around it. It was thick alright--just like he'd looked on stage--but from a distance I couldn't have imagined just how hot he felt in my grip. It wasn't like rubber or silicon. He was slick and hard, taut skin over a firm shaft. I could feel differences in texture and resistance beneath my pads as I stroked him. This was something latex toys never got right. They were all just one material. Squeeze, and you could tell that it wasn't anything like the real thing. Then his hips rolled, and the length between my fingers throbbed. A hot jet of Rex sprayed my back and dripped down over the sides of my hips. Everything smelled of coconut.

I had to have him inside me. I tugged down, and he seemed to agree. His jaws closed around my scruff and pushed my head against the floor. It was sticky. I probably would have been disgusted if I wasn't so preoccupied with the thick cock that was now pushing demandingly under my tail.

Growl. Bite. Oh, that slick tip was too thick, but it was long past the point of no return. His forepaws pulled back at my hips, and it went in. I think I might have cried or said something disgraceful, because Val laughed at me. I didn't care, because at that point I was full of what feel like a whole foot of Rex. Fuck, he went deep. leather sheath kissed my tail as his paws pulled me flush. His growl reverberated in my ears, drowning out anything that Val was saying. It was like making love with the radio on, if the radio was playing your song right into your ear. Rex was singing to me as his thrusts pummeled my knees into the floor.

There were no words in the song this time. It was an instrumental from between tracks--you know, one of those ones you never intentionally listen to, but it's good enough that you don't skip it when you listen to the album all the way through. Third album, eighth track. Named "Thrust". Now I got the joke. I was never going to skip that track again.

Drum beat like Rex's heart. Guitar riff whined in my ears. And the bass line thrummed. Throbbed. Pulsed. Thrust. Oh, fuck was I going to be sore. Every time his legs pulled me back, I could feel that hard shaft slide all the way in. Around me the room seemed to glow. No, wait, that was Rex's joints, strobing through colors as he fucked me. Yellows, oranges, blues, and deep, deep red. I reached up and wrapped my hands over his head, pulling him down as he humped.

It burned a little when he fired off. Liquid back-flowed until I felt it dripping down my thighs. Oh, right. That was rum. The room spun beneath me. Rex let me go, and there was a deliciously slick moment as he pulled out, followed by intense cold. I shivered. He'd been thick enough that some air had blown up where he'd filled me, and with the alcohol still evaporating against my inner walls, it felt like I'd sat on an ice cube.

I looked back. Rex was watching me with his slitted visor eyes. Sat back on his haunches, with lewd phallus still pointed up and spurting little shots of that cloudy drink onto the floor.

Behind him was Valentine. The tiger was jerking quickly. Fuck, he could see right up under my tail. Rex had left me gaping.

"Hey Val?" I asked. I still felt cold. I wiggled my tail, and his quick jerking stopped.

He was on me in a moment. Rex's coconut-cum lubricated him so slickly that the only thing I felt as he pushed up inside was _warm._He wasn't as thick as Rex, or as long, but the different sensation of something living was a nice change. There was no serenade this time. Just old-fashioned fucking. Thrust and grind. Fingers around my pelvis pulling me back to meet balls that swung up to slap mine. He didn't last long--maybe five or ten good, hard thrusts. Then I was hot inside with the runny rush of cum--real cum this time--coating my insides. Yeah, I could feel the difference. I'm not going to say I had a preference. It just felt different. I liked that I could feel the throb.

No one moved for a few minutes. I could feel him twitch every once in a while. The only noise in the room was Pig snoring. She must have started doing that sometime after Rex's anthem.

"Hey." Val said softly at my shoulder. He sounded out of it. He'd been breathing loudly against my ear. There was something soft playing. I thought for a moment that I was hearing something from the concert still going on upstairs. But this didn't sound like Megaknux. No, it sounded like track eight, fourth album. Song named 'Afterglow'. Huh. It was quiet and warm. It wasn't a song that hit you with the bass or assaulted you with the riffs. It was something you heard in the background that just sank into your pelt and let you absorb it while you caught your breath. I looked over at Rex. His joints were thrumming a dusky sunset red.

"Feel like a burger? I could eat." Val whispered over my shoulder. That sounded like the best idea of the evening yet. He pulled out, and Rex took his place for a moment. I felt a metal nose push up under my tail. A paw pushed at my butt, toppling me over to the side. Rex found this hilarious. He laughed harmonically as I struggled to pull my now torn jeans back on.

I tried to get to my feet, but my knees wobbled out from under me. Val caught me by the arm and hoisted me up. All that Rex cum had me feeling drunk. "He didn't give you too much, did he? He's used to bitches and bulls and big cats that have a bit more body mass. You feelin' good?"

I was, actually. Once I had my legs under me, they seemed to work adequately well. The world spinning was pleasant enough, and unlike the last time I'd got this drunk, my stomach wasn't in open revolt.

Val steered me by the shoulders out of their room backstage and led through the warren of access slips and elevators that all fed the stage show upstairs. Megaknux was still playing. Somehow I'd thought it was much later, but who was I kidding? Even though it felt like I'd had Rex inside me all night, my phone said it'd really only been about half an hour.

"Come on. I know a good spot."

"Are they any good?"

"Nah. They're shit. But they're still open."

Left, right, straight ahead. Val walked and I stumbled. I could hear the rumble of the stadium above, but down here in the access hallways it was Rex's speakers that filled the space between the bass thumps with song. Showing off his musical acumen, he'd matched some other song to the beat up above. It wasn't a Megaknux song, and this time it wasn't LATCH either. I recognized it, even though I couldn't name it or the artist who wrote it. I hummed along, then sang under my breath to the tune. To my left, a voice joined mine. Val, on pitch and modulation. It was perfect. Blood rushed to my ears, and I shut up. Fuck, what an embarrassment. Meet your rock icon, and get caught singing some other band's song under your breath. I felt like a hack. A tool. I-

"Don't stop." Val's hand found mine and squeezed. That didn't help the way my ears were burning. "I love that song."

I think if Rex hadn't got me wobbly drunk I wouldn't have been able to open my mouth. As it was, I was feeling the music. Rex picked up the tune again, and I belted out the next lyric.

My glance is always darting, when I stroll the avenue

Avoiding all the obstacles that terrorize my view

I paused once more as Val's voice joined mine, but this time I didn't stop.

If you are here with me, I trust you to lead the way

And when you're not I follow you, and always go astray

For just a fleeting moment, he stopped being Val. He ceased being the tiger of rock--the punk god--the striped legend. Even with everything else that I'd experienced that night, that's the moment I remember most vividly. Fuck, I was still wobbling on my feet. My ass hurt. I think sometime in the middle of all that, Rex had bitten my tail. I could still feel them inside me--both of them. But even with all that, it was this moment that shines brightest, with the bass drums of Megaknux thumping away above us, while we sang some stupid, silly song and tried to find our way out through the warrens of the stadium's bowels.

Rex knocked into me. He was bouncing around like an over-eager dog. I went to one knee and cupped his head. I scratched his ears and kissed his snout. He barked at me in A minor. I grabbed the nearest thing I could reach in the dimly lit access corridor. It turned out to be a broken half of a mic stand. I threw it down the corridor, and Rex was off like a shot. Val laughed when he brought it back, bent in the middle.

Every moment ends. We emerged onto Broad and Main out of the back exit of the arena, and just a block away was a little diner that was still open. Val had been right on both counts. It was, as he'd suggested, shit. But even though I knew the burger was dry and the pickles were limp and the ketchup was some off-brand with too much vinegar, it all tasted good. It was surreal, sitting across from Valentine while Rex peered up at him from beneath the table, begging for scraps he couldn't actually consume.

I was onto the fries when Val stood up. His plate was still half full. I was feeling a lot more in-control with a stomach full of fat and starch. "Hey, gimme a moment. I'll be back in a blink."

He threw a twenty onto the table and headed back to the door for the restroom. The server gave me a bland look, then went back to scrubbing the front counter. A few seconds later, Rex stood and followed Val into the back. He nosed the door open, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I leaned back in the booth and just let it all wash over me. That had been crazy. You know, one of those 'pinch yourself' evenings. I grabbed another fry, dipped it in the crappy ketchup, and masticated it as I played it all back in my mind. I wanted to remember it all. Every little bit. Now I knew what those special few on the forums were secretly hinting at. I could... I could-

No. It'd be my secret. It felt like I'd be ruining the magic if I told anyone what it was really like. No wonder any of the other guys who'd made references to it didn't say any more than that. It all sounded so corny, being fucked by Rex while he sang to you, but when he was up inside you and the bass was rumbling and you could feel it right up to the hilt... I could even hear the music again as I chewed the next fry. It was-

No, actually, that was the wrong song. I might be drunk now--thanks to Rex--but that song he'd sung me was so clear in my mind that I wouldn't mistake it. That was another song being played, and it wasn't over the diner's shitty speakers. I recognized that song. It was a slow one. I'd always thought it sounded much softer than the rest of LATCH's instrumentals. Most of them were just preludes to a hard beat and a noisy line, but this one was never progressed past the quiet intimacy of the single guitar. And it was coming from the back hallway.

I left my own tenner at the table. That was still way more than the bill would be, and at least the girl at the front wouldn't think we were skipping out. I crept to the door with the stylized 'mens and ladies' sign above it and cracked it open. The volume of the song increased, though never above a whisper. Praying that the hinges wouldn't creak, I swung the door open just wide enough to admit me, then closed it quickly behind. The hallways to the back was dark, and it took my eyes a few seconds to adjust and make sense of what I was seeing.

Val stood against the wall, face to the plaster. Rex stood behind him, forelegs over his hips and teetering on his toes. I'd had Rex just half an hour ago. He'd been rough and demanding. He'd been a wild animal--every bit the beast his stage persona demanded. What I saw now was nothing like how he'd taken me. His metal head rested on Val's shoulder, pushing against the tiger's neck affectionately as his hips rolled. The lights were dim enough that I heard them before I could see the details. Soft noises of sex filled the dirty hallway. I could only see the faint glimpses of wetness from between Rex's thighs as he pushed it up into his tiger lover.

Unlike his previous performances, Rex's lights were dim and muted--only showing slowly roiling copper and pink. This wasn't a stage show. This was for no one's benefit other than Val's. Val whispered something, and the strumming guitar from Rex's speakers wavered. Then Rex looked over at me. His visor-eyes flared for a moment, and his whole body stopped moving. I heard another whispered comment from Val. "I don't mind."

With his eyes still pinning me to the wall, Rex started moving again. But the lights stayed low, and the song stayed quiet. He looked away. It struck me that everything I'd seen until now had all been part of the show. Even the private session had still been an act. They were rock stars. No, they were rock gods. They had a mythos to maintain. But here in this dirty corridor outside the diner's restrooms I was seeing just them. Just Rex and Val. I heard the song dip a little, then surge. Rex quivered, and Val reached up to hold his head.

"That's it, Rex. Let it all out."

Rex played his song. Of course it was quieter. It wasn't a rock opera. It was a love song. I heard drops of liquid spattering the floor. I smelled coconut.

I pushed the door behind me open again and left them on their own. The waitress was wiping our table clean. The bills were gone. When she saw me, she smiled a crooked smile, then seemed to remember herself. "Did you want change?"

"No. Keep it. Mind if I hang out a few more minutes and wait for my friend."

"'Course, hon. I'll be out back if you guys want anything more."

I sat at the newly cleaned table. The diner's shitty music droned to a halt, and another song came on--just as indistinguishable as the last. The door to the back opened, and Val stepped out with Rex at his side. Was it just me, or was he walking a bit funny? I stood. He nodded to me, but didn't say anything as we left. Back into the warren of alleys that surrounded the stadium we went. Val wobbled a bit on his feet, as if he were half drunk. Of course, he was. Rex saw to that.

"Do you mind if that part doesn't get onto the forums?" He gave me a crooked smile.

"Yeah. Of course." Left turn, avoid the dumpster and broken fire escape. "You read the forums?"

"Sure. Why not?"

You've read the writing on the wall

All the dirty little rumors that run through your mind.

Did you think we didn't know?

Who do you think left them there for you to find?

Rex's song was soft. I lowered my hand to his head, and he lifted his ears to meet my fingers. It felt second-nature to scratch behind them and rub his neck. Subconsciously it felt weird to feel smooth metal beneath my fingertips, but Rex responded with a treble trill of plucked strings.

"He's right. If we hadn't started the myth, no one would have specifically come to our concerts just to chase it." He gave me a broad wink. He wasn't wrong. Without warning, his arm wrapped around my shoulders and brought me in for a kiss. I tasted sweat and coconut and the stage. Moments later he released me. I caught the meaning. Here our paths diverged. I reached down and stroked Rex. His chrome-clad tail wagged.

"So, next time you guys are in town, I'll be sure to catch you."

"You do that."

> LATCH Forums > 2033 Summer Madness Tour > Baton Rouge 16/7

WhiteTailBlackHeart * Show finally came to my home town. Three words: Epic. Fucking. Night. If it's coming to your home town, you should go. Hey, just out of curiosity, does anyone else have a new appreciation for the song 'Thrust' after this tour?

ThrowTheHorns99 * why the hell do people keep bringing up that song? theyve never played it at a show dumbass. its one of three tracks they never play on stage.

-=RexsBitch=- * Hey, WhiteTailBlackHeart, you too? First time at a show? Wasn't that part of the act amazing?

WhiteTailBlackHeart * Pure fucking genius.

ThrowTheHorns99 * i dont get it. this is the third thread this year going on about that song. ive followed the show for the last two weeks and they never played it. not one fucking time. is everyone else here insane?

-=RexsBitch=- * He doesn't know.

WhiteTailBlackHeart * Poor Horns. Maybe someday Rex will sing Thrust for him.