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The pitch-black tom stepped out of the palmettoes he'd been marking. The queens were laying under the twoleg's porch to shield themselves from blistering heat of that summer day. Each was half asleep as Mossfur gazed at them from the tree line, on the opposite side of the large yard where the tom now ambled out of the bushes. His half-brother was nowhere to be seen, but he didn't mind that as he approached the pan the twolegs had left on the ground for the clan. As he stuck his head down past its iron edges and they tickled his whiskers, his mother, Nightshade, called to him from where she lay.

Most of her pelt was just as black as his, but she had a white patch of fur on her chest and boots of white around each of her paws. She was stretched out on her side, belly extended and full with his brothers and sisters, looking at her only surviving son. "Nightpelt?" She called to him again as he continued to eat, acting oblivious and filling the void that had grown deep within his stomach during his patrol around their territory's border, outlined by the limestone thunderpaths that set it apart from vacant outside wilderness.

"Yes, Mother." Nightpelt finally replied, looking up from the pan of dry food and twoleg scraps.

Nightshade continued looking at him tiredly as she felt the kittens kicking within her and they fought for the best resting place. "I'm feeling a little nauseous. Could you get some mallows from Sunpelt?"

Nightpelt felt a little annoyed that he couldn't stick around and eat a little more, but he knew that he couldn't rightly refuse her in that state, and he knew that his father would give him thorough discipline for doing so.

The rest of the queens laid further away from the iron skillet filled with food. All of them carried the clan's next generation, and each was certainly the kit of his father, Nightpelt's younger half-siblings. As he passed the mothers to be and bounded around the twoleg's grey trailer, he made his way past the stinking pit of ash where a couple of them often burned their unwanted things.

In the woods behind it, he continued to a small clearing with a collapsed, fowl-smelling orange cylinder that his half-brother made into his den and filled with numerous herbs and medicines. It had those round black things like the monsters, but his half-brother never seemed to show any reverence or fear of it like the rest of the cats. As he approached cautiously, like it could strike at him at any moment, he realized his medicine cat brother was nowhere to be found, but he was soon aided by the sound of a soft whine that came from deeper in the forest, beyond the clearing where the small clan of cats had established themselves and their relationship with the twolegs.

The next moaning mew made the tom's furry orbs tighten and his bristled member feel as though it was already being constricted in the strangle hold of that soft, warm passage. None of the queens had come into heat for moons, and his father wouldn't let him have a chance at them. Most of the time, sex was somewhere in the minds of these cats whose every need was fulfilled by a family of surprisingly willing twolegs, but he hadn't a chance. He followed the sound and then the scent of the mating cats deeper into the woods, down a path cleared by the twolegs for a small monster, and then saw something that shocked him.

It was his half-brother, Sunpelt, legs spread on either side of the older queen with his raised, orange-and-white-ringed tail turned to show Nightpelt his own orbs as hips twitched to and from of the female's core. Meanwhile, he bit down on the nape of her neck and huffed her scent. As he penetrated her and she felt the quills of his feline member, she let out a loud meow that shook both brothers deeply and brought on a hard, groaning thrust from Sunpelt into her tight wetness, causing both the mating cats to climax, the queen's walls collapsing around the red member, suckling its tip and rubbing against its barbs as he came.

Watching his brother penetrating the queen, Nightpelt was somewhat astonished. His brother was the clan medicine cat. He couldn't have sex with her, let alone let her bear his kits; and from the scent of things, she was far more than capable of having them right now.

It wasn't until Sunpelt got up and she began to roll around in post-orgasmic bliss that Nightpelt recognized her as the kittypet their twolegs kept inside or that Sunpelt noticed the presence of his brother.

"Oh. What are you doing here?" He asked, only a little nervous.

"I should ask you the same thing." Nightpelt made sure that his half-brother could hear the venom in his hiss. "You're a medicine cat. What are you doing fucking random cats out in the woods?"

"Come on," Sunpelt retorted," do you really think that code means anything to our father's little harem anymore?"

"Thousands of generations, Sunpelt, thousands of generations have lived and died by that code, and you just want to throw that away!" Nightpelt was insulted by the insinuation that their father had abandoned the way that had governed their race for so long.

Sunpelt saw that Nightpelt's mind was as darker than his fur. "Do you really want to live that prudish life anymore. Look around you, Nightpelt. Doesn't the code address laws for freshkill? And aren't we not supposed to be eating out of the hands of twolegs like the damn kittypets?!"

"Hey." The deep feminine voice of the queen interrupted their feud. "I didn't break out of the house again to be insulted." She was fatter than any non-pregnant queen that Nightpelt had ever seen, but he knew from the heat that gripped his member in its sheath that she definitely wasn't baring kittens. The stories their father had told them about kittypet life, from experience that always went unnamed, about kittypets confined to twoleg dwellings growing fat and lazy were proven true as she lay opposite the two males, legs raised and spread as far apart as they would go, exposing her still glistening core. "What's wrong anyway, Sunpelt?"

"My half-brother thinks a lot of the warrior code."

"Hah." Apparently, she thought that was funny, and the laugh that escaped her round, pillow-like body and caused it to ripple and convulse, showing she was quite bemused.

"What's so funny?" Nightpelt asked her.

But it was Sunpelt who answered," She's been a kitty pet at this house since before you and I were born." He looked to his apparent mate. "And she was a rogue before that. She remembers how our father and the whole clan got here in the first place."

"That's right. I do, and whatever your father tells you about kittypets he learned from living the life himself."

"What!?!" To Nightpelt, what she just said was heresy. Mossfur always told his kits and queens the importance of not living like kittypets regardless of how close we got to twolegs, that they must be free and hunt for their own to keep alive the tradition of our warrior ancestors. Was the part about Nightpelt's warrior ancestors a lie then? Did his father just say that he hailed from a long line of cats that fought for the warrior code over generations?

He got an answer: "Your shock tells me that he's lied to you." She purred almost contently at Nightpelt as Sunpelt began grooming her. First, it was her chest, which caused his half-brother's shift to her side. Both males were hanging on to her words with baited interest, and both their members attempted to exit their sheaths as her heat returned, signifying she would soon be ready for the next round of mating. "I was wandering around, starving, when we met in the woods," she continued," Your father told me that he was fresh from the house of an old twoleg who'd died, leaving him and a dog in the house for weeks. I listened to him as he recounted the story of hiding from it as it first starved itself and then tried desperately to hunt the only other living thing in the home and then it finally settled to eat their old friend. Your father was starving as well, or so he said, and he said he used the last of his strength sprint out." As she finished, Sunpelt moved to her stomach, licking down her white bellyfur and rubbing is rough tongue against her nipples. After she let out a soft moan, the nameless queen continued, "He was desperately missing the kittypet life, and it was the harshest Leafbare any cat had seen. We were both starving and were going to die if something wasn't done soon, so we went our separate ways, as rogues normally do after meeting, and I just happened to come to this house before him."

Nightpelt continued watching his half-brother lick her belly with slow strokes easing ever further down, and Sunpelt was ready to begin the next round of mating as he tried to give her a more and more obvious hint with his rough, sandpaper-like tongue running over the bit of fur just above her core, but she was bent on finishing her tale. "Hold on a moment, Sunpelt. Your brother and I aren't done talking yet," She mewed.

Begrudgingly, Sunpelt stopped his disguised foreplay. How many times had Nightpelt seen his father do it to his queens around the trailer? Why was he thinking about this now? He felt his throbbing, unused member drip as he eyed his brother's maw near that fat, plush core. The queen broke his concentration. "A few months passed, and I saw he'd come back with a pride full of queens. A couple of them were pregnant, and all were desperately hungry because not one of them knew anything but eating out of a twoleg's hands. Like me, the twolegs decided to take the whole bunch in and feed them. But unlike me, they remained outside with him who was suddenly refusing to be tamed, spouting stuff about the warrior code he never followed."

"You're lying." Nightpelt told the queen coldly, even as the heat in his twitching balls cried out. "My father was a warrior before he founded our clan, and when he hears all this..."

He was interrupted. "Come on. He's told us the stories a hundred times and their always different." Sunpelt's words struck his brother like a monster. "They aren't true. How do you think he somehow knew how to find a house of twolegs who'd feed cats for free when no mice were around for us to return the favor?"

"Yes, and your father won't do anything to me because he knows what will happen to him if he does. Plus, he's getting older by the day. How many moons has he spent in that shady spot far from the house, surrounded by bushes and trees and only left to see the queens and eat? How many times has your sleep been interrupted by the sound of their yowling as they...?"

"Wait. What do you mean 'what will happen'?" Nightpelt interrupted, confused.

Sunpelt answered for his queen. "The twolegs are really just too afraid we'll hurt their precious kittypet." Short of licking her core, Sunpelt settled for the queen's ears. "They'd kill us or kick us out," he explained more thoroughly.

Nightpelt looked at the queen closely. She was the one he'd seen so many times before, slinking away on the roof or out in the yard but never guessed she was from the building behind the smaller wooden one they'd never been let on, and then he thought of his father's habits as he aged and of how many kits were being born now that he did almost nothing but meet the queens and mate with them. Could it all have been true? Could his father have been a kittypet and a liar all this time?

"Go ahead and ask him yourself," Sunpelt suggested impatiently, wanting to get back to the queen's sex.

She took his hint before adding, "And come join us after you're done, if you want."

As much as it pained his aching member, never having felt a queen's sweet embrace, to leave the heating cat to his brother, he had to get everything straightened out. He couldn't make love with a kittypet anyway, and he was sure that this indulgence would soften his half-brother into something as round and plush as the queen who'd bare his kits in three moon's time.

Thinking of moons, in his thirteen moons of life, there he had never had reason to question his father, but some of the things they said to him were making a lot of sense. It was no wonder the cats of the house hunted all the time but found nothing but a few paltry bugs, and no one wanted to eat those. They had plenty to eat as it is, and that meant there was no need to kill anything, warrior code or no. Thinking of the code again, his father said a lot things about the code; but as Nightpelt thought about it, he didn't seem to follow it very strictly. He'd eat at the same time as the queens and the kits, and there would be no questioning it because the food was so abundant. There was no need for queens, kits, and elders to eat before warriors. Thinking of warriors, there were none of them as well. Nightpelt's father had told him about the old system of leaders; deputies; warriors; and apprentices, but there was none of that in his... What did the queen call it? A pride. Was that the word for all those queens surrounding just one tom? Regardless, the leader was his father, Mossfur; and there were no deputies. It was just assumed that, once he'd died, Nightpelt would be the successor, seeing that Sunpelt was a medicine cat and the queens would be baring his last kits at the time. This was why Mossfur versed the one son so well in the warrior code and its mythology, constantly under his watchful eye, but let the other stay in the woods as the medicine cat, gathering herbs and doing pretty much whatever he wanted.

Thoughts and realizations running through his mind, Nightpelt padded into the yard with empty jaws, having forgotten the task he'd abandoned when he saw and scented mating in the woods, but he remembered it when he saw his mother's glare. He lied to her, saying that Sunpelt had none of those easing herbs she wanted, and she believed him entirely.

He went to the bushes he'd been marking to clear his mind a little bit. Their wide leaves provided good shade from the harsh sunlight that beat down on him, and his body already felt heavy from exhaustion in the humid, boiling air around him. After he lay hidden from view of everyone else, he decided it was time to do some grooming, so he began to lick sand out his paws, feeling the gritty earth on his teeth and tongue as he worked on the pads and between the toes.

He was enjoying it when, suddenly, it caught him again: the scent of heat.