FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

My writing takes ever so much longer to complete when I am adamant I must have a cover image to go with it and then I spend ever so long fussing on it, haha.

This time it's an actual scene from the story too, not just the characters, so woo!

Anywho! It's done!

Part One of a multi part shortish (for me) story is ready for consumption.

I did have an actual chapter title for this, then I completely forgot what it was and haven't been able to come up with something I like. So instead of fussing on it more, THIS'LL DO. I may come back and add chapter titles later, but for now, just numbers! Yeah!

Much like the previous story, this is based around an old OC of mine from PokemorphMush (A PG GAME, unlike this very much NOT PG story. STRONG EMPHASIS on PG Game) and what she's been up to in the last decade since I used to actual RP her.

The story is set in very much an extended universe to the established canon of PMM, so please keep that in mind. Almost the entire setting for this story is EU from moi with some classic canon flavouring/Sylver's character origins. Writers liberty and all~

As usual, thoughts, comments, etc, are appreciated~

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Content warning: Rapeyness, sex (m/f), mildy grimdark (it'll get way worse in later chapters)

Blurb:

Sylver, the Ninetales-morph was once someone important, a party girl out for the fun of life, a world away from where she finds herself now. Free from all autonomy and with no option other than to serve, she's back down at the bottom rungs of a society she didn't even know existed. Of course, you can't keep a good party girl down, even if she's looking to do nothing more than wallow in the Bliss induced state her new world provides along with it's mindless drudgery of monotonous pleb work. There's going to be sex. There's always sex. She didn't even ask for it. Sure, the situation it presents itself as isn't ideal, but why not make the most of it.

It may not be a way out, but maybe it'll be a way up.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

"What's she doing here? This can't be right. Who signed-"

"I wouldn't go poking your nose into it."

"What do you mean? It's not like- Oh."

"Yeah."

"All that effort for a Nickel? Is she even going to survive?"

"What a waste."

There's been so many voices and I couldn't even tell you who or what or why. Not that it matters. I can't do anything other than lay here. Well, make the occasional noise. I'm pretty sure the whimpers and moans of pain are me.

I don't think I can remember ever hurting this much. Not like this.

Evolution was hard. Like your body being torn apart, rearranged and put back together. Not entirely inaccurate. These bodies aren't built to evolve. There's memories of that somewhere from decades ago. Vague now. I can no longer truly compare the feelings. That at least was a flash of pain in comparison to this lingering torture of my body.

This doesn't feel like there's an end in sight.

Sight. Ha. There's a laugh.

I can't see anything. Haven't seen anything since-

My mind blanks.

It can't of been that long ago.

I think.

I don't know. There's no real feeling for time when I can't see and I seem to drift in and out of consciousness.

The voices are inconsistent.

The only constant is the pain.

And the cold.

It's cold.

I've never felt cold before. Not like this.

Everything is numb.

The Matron was a bitch.

Didn't like me the moment I walked in. I didn't have to do a thing and she was looking down that big bulbous nose of hers at me.

Sure, okay, there's an air about me that doesn't match the downtrodden Bliss enhanced masses that make up this part of the world. I know who I am. What I am. What I'm capable of. Sticks out like a sore thumb to those who have an eye for spotting something different. I suppose it means she's not actually bad at her job.

Still a bitch though.

Of course, I've probably not helped myself out by trading the other Nickels for their Bliss. They get sober, I get higher. It's not like I can't function on the extra. I can still run circles around all these basic bitch duties they're making us do. Bliss is good but it's not that good.

I'll admit the lower doses for the others does make them a little less pliable, but hey, if they wont just give me more, what's a girl supposed to do?

These brain dead serfs don't even know what a bad time is. Sure, there's no self autonomy and one step the wrong way and you could find yourself dead, but the daily grind is mostly pretty bland. As far as I can tell all these bodies come from some sort of factory farming setup, so it's not like they were stolen from a lovely life before this. None of them even remember going through The Change. Went to sleep a pokemon, woke up later as a 'morph. Thrown into some basic 'humanity' training, bought and sold and now they're here.

No one's fighting, well, not amongst the Nickels anyway. Fighting for morphs seems to be heavily frowned upon in this region. Can't say I'm that surprised given our history in the rest of the world. If any of them have a full set of moves past their Pokemon days I'll eat one of these tragically drab shoes they make us wear. That's also probably giving more credit than is due for them having even learnt anything as pokemon in the first place, that is, past what they were born with.

There isn't even any real interaction with the humans to draw their ire unless you're particularly stupid. Especially down here in the lowest echelons of this place. Dreg work. Keeping rooms clean. Cleaning and folding clothes. Preparing and handling food. It's all so very, very, dull.

I have no idea how long I was stuck there, day in, day out, repetitive boredom my only friend. Well, that and 72. Terrible name. Better than some of the others. Barcode names for barcode people. A young Marill-morph happy to trade company for her assigned Bliss. I think she was rather enamoured. Gullible, dumb, she wasn't the worst company I've willingly put up with to get what I wanted. Of course, I shouldn't fault youth and a considerable lack of life experience in someone born to serve and nothing more. She was happy enough with her lot, even with the lower amounts of Bliss in her life once I came into it. Didn't know any better. Suppose I can envy that.

Back to the Matron, I did have a point there after all.

She was a bitch. She did not like me.

So when the frazzled bird came storming in demanding use of some Nickels she happily threw me under the bus. "You can take from those ones," she said, pointing directly at myself as I stood with a line of the girls dropping off our previous day uniforms ready for cleaning.

The Corvisquire-morph barely looked us up and down before picking me and the indifferent Wooper-girl closest to my side, "You two. Follow." A quick heel turn and he was gone, rushing down the corridor without a backwards glance.

I'll admit, I flounced. Giving the Matron a wink as I grabbed the other girl by her wrist to pull her along before we lost the bird. Not that he would of gotten far enough away to lose us. The muttering was quite obnoxiously loud and he did actually pause after a turn to make sure we were following.

"Straighten up." Mutter, clack, grumble, "You'll have to do."

My eyes rolled as he turned away, stalking further down the corridor, confident we were keeping pace with his surprisingly long legs and the clackclackclack of claws on tiles. "Don't look so worried. We get to do something different today~" hushed words to the girl beside me. Not that she really looked worried, just the usual bland vacant look of the Blissed staring at the straight backed bird. "Guess you ain't gonna be much conversation, ey?"

"What are you muttering back there?"

A sudden stop as we came to a crossroad after having exited a service elevator and gone up a couple of floors. The bird glaring back at us as other Nickels walked by, even a couple of humans. The corridors were wider, lighter, warm colours on the walls and even some decoration. This wasn't the bland boringness that is the underbelly service quarters. We were going to-

"He doesn't like it when you talk. So stop now. Understand?"

It is kind of impressive how well some birds can glower at you. Stern beak and all.

"Yes sir," a demure response as my companion simply nodded her head.

There was a momentary flinch as he tried to decide if he should correct me for speaking or concede the affirmation for agreeing with him. I think he was also somewhat surprised to realise he wasn't looking down at me, what with me being a good couple of inches taller than his reasonable sized stature.

"Good, good. Now, I don't expect you've been up to the fighters quarters. Stay behind me. Don't speak unless spoken to. Keep out of the way. Hopefully we wont be meeting any Pearls and I wont have to go looking for more Nickels.."

A conversation with himself, reassuring himself as he told us things we already knew. A Nickel's life is to look down, speak only when spoken to, keep out of the way. We are here to serve. Can't do that if you're in the way or talking back, right?

He was also inadvertently sharing why he'd come and gotten us for whatever it was he needed. The plain uniform said the bird was also a Nickel, higher rank than us bottom rung plebs, but not in position enough to countermand the order of a Pearl.

This could be interesting. I hadn't gotten this high up in the facility before. Well, except when I arrived and got sent down.. Down.. Down.. All the way to the bottom of the world. Or as far down as this part of the world seems to go anyway.

It was hard not to look up and around at the different things on view. Not that there was nearly enough variety to make it worth while. The occasional morph, fit, bruised, sweating or pristine, state depending on which direction they were walking to or from. Posters and framed pictures of tournaments, competitors in full flight or glamour shots, there was even artworks of some of the other Colosseums. Occasionally we passed a potted plant looking surprisingly sprightly for things that never saw the sun.

Other Nickels, uniforms almost exactly the same as ours, a nondescript bluegrey in two shades for base material and trim, except for a silver panel down the left side of the body, a colour scheme that does nothing to compliment my own dark grey fur, wandered here and there. Everyone seemed busy or at least to have a purpose. No dillydallying to be seen.

Another turn, avoiding some large doors with a considerable amount of hubbub behind it and down into a quieter section of the labyrinthine building. The smell of sweat hung in the air despite the heavy layer of something floral to mask it and the undertone of cleaning chemicals. The walls weren't so decorated, but the cameras are more blatantly obvious, sitting in corners, watching everything that goes past. A not subtle reminder for those who aren't used to being watched at all times. Interesting. It speaks a lot for the people that pass down these halls compared to where we'd come from.

"Here. Wait. Let me look at you."

The bird stops in front of one of the many double doors that line the walls we've passed. There's a marker on the panel next to the door but he's standing in the way of me reading it as he looks us over again. Feathers ruffle and he's appearing decidedly flustered.

"You'll have to do. He's going to complain. Of course he's going to complain. He always complains," a flinch, a hint of something in the back of those red eyes that speaks pain. "Go in. Do exactly as you're told. Don't talk. He doesn't like it when you talk. Do everything he says. I mean it. Everything." There's a stern look, lost on the Wooper who continues to smile in that benign empty headed way your standard Bliss user shows to the world. It's hard to mirror the expression as my mind races, taking in everything that's been said, how it's been said, what's not been said.

"You shouldn't be long. He's got a fight on the hour."

One part clicks even as the door pass is swiped with the Corvisquire's Passport and we're basically shoved into the room, door not quite slamming behind us with a mechanical hiss.

It's a palace. Or at least, compared to the hole in the wall that I've been living in these past whatever months, it has all the appearance of a palace. The opulence is minimal compared to the standards of a lifetime ago, but for this hell hole, it's amazing. Private quarters as large as the tiny mess hall that fits a half dozen tables and those who sit at them back in the basement. The room is split level with the upper portion designed around a four poster bed and various comfortable looking paraphernalia as well as a contrastingly severe looking dresser. The lower half of the room that we're walking in from has a set of lounges, plush, red, more comfortable than anything I'd sat on in months. Scattered around the room is random furniture with no purpose past filling space. A trophy case sits against one wall, recently repaired. Either side of it and along much of the walls are framed posters of victories of a firey variety. A Blaziken-morph plays center stage in basically each and every image.

There's a hint of sulphur in the air and it's hard for me to miss all the singe marks on the furniture, mostly with various levels of success in attempts to repair them. A critical eye to the appearances of things doesn't disappear just because it's had little to work with of recent.

"About time. Yer late," a rough voice that's impossible to ignore in the otherwise quiet, "Get over there, by the bed." An order to comply with from the corner of the room before we have a chance to look at the owner.

"So what's the prick gotten me this time? Better than the last lot I hope."

There's disdain in that voice as it approaches, feet dragging with each step, muffled by the plush carpet. As he moves there's the added sounds of a buckle unclipping, material sliding off and dropped to the floor.

From beside the Wooper I catch shades of red from the corner of my eye. "Ergh, Nickels.. from downstairs," a clawed hand brushes the other girl's side where we lack the silver stripe on our uniforms. "Of course. Worried I'll break another one. Guess yer cheaper to replace." A bark of laughter as he turns to me and I avert my eyes back to the floor before he can see me trying to look him over in return.

Shouldn't of bothered, a moment later and my chin is forced up and I'm looking into the eyes of a very different kind of bird. "What're you supposed to be?"

It's hard to keep looking down, away from eyes that demand a challenge. I can feel my tail tips twitching, the desire to rise to that challenge stronger than it's been in.. I don't know how long.

"Ninetales, sir."

"Huh," a momentary surprise at my response, head cocking to the side in a very bird like jerk. He quickly brushes it aside and scoffs instead. "Weird colours," there's scepticism there even as he tilts my head away and looks me over in a way I know all too well. "One those region variants or somethin'.." It's hard not to feel the eyes lingering even as he drops my chin and steps back.

"Alright. Take it off."

There's tension in the air as no one moves.

"The clothes. Take the clothes off," voice sharp now, impatient as he looks from me to the other girl with her vacant smile and obliviousness to the situation she's been walked straight into. With a direct order she frowns slightly, a memory or thought contriving to come to the surface. Contradictions fight in that vacant little head of hers as the memory of being told not to speak battles with the knowledge of something she feels must be spoken.

"Hurry up. I don't have that much time. Get it off or I'll take it off of you," words that turn increasingly more harsh even as a hint of something else curls itself around the last syllables. Can't say I'm fond of that note, not in this situation.

She frowns still, "The Rules say we aren't to take our clothes off in company outside of showering and-"

"Fuck those rules. Do you see any humans here? Do you forget what you are? What I am?" There's heat. It's like a wave over my fur that every fibre of my body calls out for. It's been so very long. Fire isn't exactly a safe element. There isn't many with the typing amongst the Nickels I've met outside of the kitchens and those rank higher than me, don't give me the time of day. Nickels aren't supposed to spend time together outside of their assigned duties. We don't touch. We're never really close to each other, even when working in cramped spaces. Everyone has their assigned duties, no time or chance to deviate. When everyone's been neutered I guess it kills off particular base desires for most, makes it easier to comply to such rules. Of course, it's not a hundred percent effective, as per my arrangement with 76.

The stupid girl is frozen, her brain struggling through the fog that is her life on Bliss and the contradictions of the orders she's been given. She can see he's a Pearl or a Diamond, he out ranks her considerably, she must do as he says. But she's also got Rules. We all have Rules. Rules she's too brainwashed to know when to bend.

He's going to hurt her.

It's there in his voice, in the words said, the stance of his body, the heat radiating off him in frustrated waves.

If I was her, if I was the same as the rest of them I'd let him. I wouldn't know any better. I wouldn't know the signs, I wouldn't see them. I'd just be standing here, smiling as he-

"Hey Hotstuff, sir, we going to do this or what?"

Surprise. Genuine surprise flashes across his beaked face as the Blaziken-morph looks at me. No one's spoken to him like that. Not in that condescending tone of voice. Not outside of the arena. Not from a Nickel.

"What did you-?" there's a growl in his voice, a threat. It makes my blood jump as memories from so very many lifetimes bubble in the back of my mind. Why do I like these games? They're ever so dangerous. I never was much good at the mundane.

"I said, are we going to do this or what?" are you stupid or something? The words unsaid, hanging in the air and making claws clench and the heat rise, even as my hands move down my front, unclipping all those annoying little clasps that hold my uniform dress together. His eyes follow my well practiced hands as they make those lovely little movements to draw attention their way. I've got him.

I will say one thing for this dress code, once you've got all the clasps undone, it all unwraps amazingly easily and there's nothing to be found underneath but the body it covers. Lack of underwear means less washing and it's not like our code of conduct allows us to get into compromising positions where looking up my skirt is going to be an issue. All very practical if you think about it. Neutered bodies don't menstruate after all.

"Huh.. All grey then?" the disappointment puts my teeth on edge. What did he expect? Rainbow stripes?

Tails swarm behind me, drifting slowly side to side as I slide the outfit back and off my arms, letting it drop behind me. "You'll need to come closer to make sure," I tease, head tilted down, gazing at him through long lashes. Finally getting the opportunity to really give him a once over of my own. Too distracted in looking me over, he misses the return scrutiny, one that's considerably more critical of what it sees.

Entirely my type. But then, what isn't? Actually, I'm not that bad. I can be exceedingly picky if the mood takes me. Then again, enough drinks and I'll try most anything. Dear gods I miss drinking. There was a liquor bottle on one of the tables I saw when we walked in. Maybe I can steal some before I leave. Not enough to get drunk, obviously, but just a taste..

Eyes wander up and down. Blaziken-morph and everything that you'd expect that to entail, especially for one of the Colosseum fighters. He's actually a few inches taller than my own six foot height. A pleasant occurrence, though it does mean he's towering over the Wooper girl and her five foot nothing stature. There's impressively thick cream down covering his upper body like a mane from the top of his head, down his neck and over his torso, obscuring most of his chest before leading down further into some lovely framing of his golden abs. Arms feathered in a much shorter and smoother appearance that accentuates each and every muscle are a warm red until they come to the ivory tan of the scaling for his forearms and hands. Hands that are much larger than you'd expect, each finger a talon with an impressively pointed claw at the end. A golden Passport sits wrapped around his left wrist, red and orange stripes down the back of the device declaring his duel nature for all the world to see and it's control over his elements.

Lower body is harder to define as he's only just undoing his pants. Hips bare red colouring and if he's anything like other firebirds from my past, it'll be some impressively thick set and feathered legs hidden under the current loose fitting greys he's wearing. Red turning to yellow somewhere below the knee, before the same scaling as the hands can be found at the ankles down to his feet, talons possibly worse than his hands depending how he fights. I imagine there's a flick of a red tail somewhere behind him, unimpressive in comparison to someone like me with my own luxurious fluffy whips of dark grey with violet tips.

Someone's given this guy a trim at some point as his head wing crest things barely stick out a hand's span from his head, making me think he's gotten hair advise from a Braviary. It wasn't good advice. His hard face is beaked, pointed, the same red as his arms and most of his form. Spikes frame the edges of his face, sitting over his hairline and giving a most impressive widow's peak from red to cream. The twin pointed crest is in surprisingly good condition given the heavy scaring over most of his face. A face more youthful than I expect when I take into account the crisscrossing of scars and the acid laced attitude. Not that morphs are ever easy to place an age on. Still, it's a reminder I'm living such a different life now. This is the face of the Camps I spent my childhood expecting to become. They seemed so old then, so young now.

For the moment he forgets the Wooper, all eyes on me as he comes closer, greys dropping without a care and his intentions quite obvious. How quick is this likely to be? A short temper can mean short interactions even if he should have a proper fighter's stamina. Given his likely roster of options before this..

"You. What're you doing? Why are you still just standing there-"

Damnit, the girl made a noise, some sort of squeak of uncertainty as he came closer and she's gotten his attention again.

"Get that off al-"

"-You really want to dip your claws in mud when you could bathe in fire instead?" He's surprised again, eyes once more on me as he finds me directing his chin to me this time, my other hand raising it's own heat to play with his. Fingers a light but playful touch. One that's hopefully made him forget about the other girl again. "Wh-" "I thought you wanted to have a good time?" Now it's my turn for claws, tiny pinpricks compared to his, yet more than capable to do everything needed given their position.

His eyes go wider, some incomprehensible sound leaving his mouth as he realises what is happening and his brain tries to work out the best solution. Evidently this is not a situation he's found himself in before. I can't help but relish the moment even as I wonder just how hard to push, what is he going to let me get away with before he retaliates? Will he retaliate? There's a temper in this bird. I know there's a temper. The room speaks it quite clearly with all the repaired damage. Is it a temper I can keep directed at me instead of the other girl who doesn't need a real reason to live in the fantasy world Bliss provides?

I bite him. Not hard, on the shoulder, a mouth full of fluff as I draw our bodies together, tails winding their way around lower bodies and pressing them closer, encouraging the movements he'd been quite willing to follow through with until I showed my claws. He's confused, I can feel it in the tension of his muscles. Not used to someone else taking control in this kind of game. Too many girls of a lesser stature unwilling to stand up against their superior. Not wanting to risk the wrath of someone who could have you Disposed of without a thought. After all, I'm only a Nickel and a bottom rung one at that. What do I know? What can I do?

Muzzle noses up along his neck, pressing hard in a position I'd more often lick if it weren't for the fluff. Instead I make do with light nibbles, along his chin, up along the side of his face before growling lightly, "Is this it then?" He's making more than a few pleased noises as I tease, both hand and voice. I throw a quick glance to the Wooper as he shuts his eyes and rocks his body to mine, engrossed with the touch. I try to motion for her to go, leave, mouthing the words as she stares at us vacantly, lost, a hand half undoing the clasps of her uniform, stopped by her inner conflict trying to fight against the fog of Bliss. No hope there. Not without more blatant instruction than what I can manage right now. Do I get that bad when I take the extra doses? I don't think so..

A noise in my ear, a growl, a groan? The stickiness on my hand has increased exponentially and I'm drawn back to the man of the moment. I growl back, lower, into his ear with the start of a sneer, "A quick handy and we're all done? I thought you wanted to fuck."

The mock pity does it at the end of my words. There's fire. My skin tingles under my fur even as I feel his claws around my neck and the heat down my chest as his wrists flare. Talons prick and my feet lose their purchase on the ground. My tails let me know it's not far, but it's enough that not even the point of my shoes are scraping the carpet. I choke as golden eyes glower at me, dare me. This time I don't look away, I wont back down from that challenge. My violet gaze matches his, eye for eye, unwavering despite our positions. Arms wrap around his for leverage, holding up my weight partially instead of letting it hang from my neck entirely, not pulling his hands away, an action I know I can't win with his natural fighter's strength, even dampened as it is by his Passport. I growl, or at least try to. More a rather unimpressive gurgle if I'm honest with myself. Still, it's the effort that counts, right?

Despite my struggles, or lack there of, my tails speak a different story. Where my hand can no longer reach, silken fur dances, teases, rubs in ways to make knees run weak. This is a fight I can win. I know I can win. A battle fought in the past with more experienced opponents than the one that stands before me, hand wrapped around my neck.

He's fighting back a groan, a moan. His free hand swatting at the inescapable tails as they wind and tease. He can grab one, maybe two, but there's still more and they're persistent, he can't stop them all, not in the position he's in. For a moment there's pain, more pain than I'm keen to continue experiencing.

"S-s-stop.." He hisses between clenched beak, a hand on one of my tails, crushing it, thick fur and natural heat doing little against the fighter's vice like grip.

I cheat.

Broken tails are not appealing, I've been there, done that, it's not fun and I don't believe medical care is likely to extend far for the likes of me in this place.

Free tails continue to twine and curl, to tease, my hands rub along his arms and I smile at him as something pink passes between us, hints of hearts dancing through my fur and into his feathers. It's a few moments but then he's dropping me, hands unclenched as he stands there dumbfounded at his own actions. A mirror to the Wooper who is still just standing there, watching and not doing a thing.

Fuck man. How can she be this useless? Bliss sure as hell is some good shit on minds that haven't actually experienced real trauma. Or something like that. I don't know. I know it doesn't have anywhere near this kind of effect on me. Then again, my supply has been considerably limited. Maybe I need to up it more..?

Not the time or place.

Instead, I rush to the girl, a hand rubbing my neck even as I painfully try to swallow, get liquid into my mouth, make sure I can speak.

"Go. Leave. Now. No. Don't look at him. I'm telling you." My voice snaps, going from a gasp to the forceful voice of command that I know will get through that thick fog inside her skull, even at a hushed growl. It's not the words, it's the intention that's listened to. Despite all the training, the Rules we follow, a voice spoken the right way can order anything it wants. You just need the right kind of confidence. Something the firebird needs to learn. Though perhaps not.

"He doesn't want you. Tell the bird at the door he sent you back. Go back to your duties." Yet she hesitates a moment, "Now." I bark, more forceful, louder than I'd like. Loud enough that the Blaziken pauses in shaking his head and looks at us.

"What are you-? What's she-?"

And back to this again. My tails fan out behind me, hiding the Wooper as I saunter back to the firebird, acting as if nothing is amiss, as if he wasn't trying to break me mere moments ago. Hopefully hiding the girl as she finally leaves this place, this situation, this future she doesn't need to be a part of.

"We're supposed to be fucking, but it would seem you're terrible at it," I shouldn't of said that. Entirely the wrong thing to say. Yet, well, it's not like Ninetales aren't known for their spiteful nature and his mind is currently befuddled enough that I can get away with a little talk back. He wont remember it so well afterwards. That and I'll give him other things to think about instead before we're done. Things that'll make him forget about any unfavourable words.

He's frowning, confused, looking at me then his hands and back again, "What did yo-"

"I cheated," in front of him again, a hand on that gloriously fluffy chest, trailing down through the thick feathers to where things become smoother. "But I'm not about to monologue at you and explain all my secrets." He's looking dumbfounded and I can't help but sigh, "You don't even know what monologue means do you?"

Another frown and I can see Attract's effect is starting to wear off as he continues to fight it, talons clenching and unclenching.

"Come here you stupid bird. I'm going to show you a good time, even if you don't deserve it." His turn to feel a little pain as I grab him by that wonderful fluff of his chest and drag him towards the bed. "Be an appreciative boy and I'll teach you some fun new things."

There's so much confusion on his face and in the way he stumbles after me. This isn't how this is all supposed to be going. Well, it is, but not the way he planned, not the way it usually goes. "You're too used to timid little things that don't know how to fight back, to play your games tit for tat. Let me show you what it's reeeally like to play with fire," I'm purring at him, pulled close, tails pressed against the bed behind me, enjoying the mixed reactions he gives me as he tries to figure what he wants, what he wants to do next. Not that I'm going to give him the benefit of choosing.

Claws trail through feathers roughly, feeling the strong muscle beneath appreciatively. "I- You-" he growls, words failing him as he watches me, my hands, the tails that curl and dance around us. "Yes, me," I purr again, nuzzling at his cheek before a quick spin and a trip to send him tumbling onto the bed. It's not graceful and there's another flare up of fire as embarrassment defeats the last of my attack's effects and he rages. Possibly literally. I've never been good at knowing the abilities of my opponents outside of the obvious. Not my forte.

The fury is coming off him in waves of delicious heat as he flips himself over, ready to attack me again, or at least I imagine that's his intent, "Y-"

"Oh shut up-" I'm not in the mood for more shows of bravado. He started this, I'm going to finish it, just like I said. Between his legs and I'm going down on him before he's got his wits about him enough to make a move. He freezes at the feel of teeth on sensitive flesh and the realisation that should he choose not to be careful he's going to be full of considerably more regrets than me. The tension is palpable and it's considerably more effort than it should be to not be as vindictive as my nature is inclined. Sadly the result would not be as long lastingly beneficial as alternative options. Sad for me anyway.

So instead I put years of practice to good use. Sure, I'm a little rusty and things take a bit longer than they once would of to get the desired results but I get there. The rage dissipates and instead of talons crushing my throat I've got them atop my head, through my hair, teasing ears, encouraging me in ways that I quickly teach him how best to achieve. Teeth can be a wonderful form of persuasion when tongues are preferable and the pleasurable things they can do.

I don't let him finish. That wouldn't be fair. To me. I do want something out of this as well, saving the skin of a girl who doesn't know any better really isn't enough, not when I've got such an opportunity laid out in front of me. Who knows when I'm going to get this sort of chance again? So I'm going to make the most of it and he's going to think it's all about him.

Because of course it is.

In his mind.

There's protests that I ignore and push aside after a last long teasing lick and rub. Claws in particular locations deter him from trying too hard at keeping me in place. It's wonderful when you can teach a boy to behave in such a short time span. Especially when it's a barely conscious response. "Mrmn.. Good boy." Little bites and nibbles trail up from his groin, belly and further up as I climb atop him into a position that'll let me actually have my fun as well. Not to say I wasn't enjoying what I was doing, the ease in which I'm able to mount him attests to that, it's just not quite the same thing.

I take my time, easing myself into position despite his rough hands that attempt to speed us up. Fingers get a slap for their efforts, "Do you want to finish already do you?" I growl at him, pausing in my motions as I look down at his frowning face. It's mildly amusing to watch, mind lost in the feelings and not quite registering my words over the desire to continue. Hands go back to his chest, trailing claws through the thick fluff, "Trust me. You'll prefer it my way." He glowers, beak clacking in annoyance. There's a growl that quickly changes to a groan as I start moving again and it doesn't take much more convincing to get him to play along with my desires.

It's an enjoyable ride. One in which I deny him that peak three or four times before I finally let him take control and finish. I've had my fun by then, a couple of times even. I'll admit, it was mean, teasing him like that, stealing the chance to possibly have more than one round, but I wasn't forgetting my neck, the lingering crick in one of my tails, the desire to inflict pain on those considered lower than him. A minor revenge but the best I was likely to achieve in this situation and one he wouldn't even understand had occurred.

A light flashes, red, glaring, insistent, some sort of bassy alarm sounding with it as we lay there panting, my arms pinned to the rather singed bedsheets. Gods it was good to finally feel real heat again. Sure, the Passports dampen most of it but it was there, between our bodies, washing over them, bathing the furniture in our shared heat. It was a good test of the Passports actually, I let myself go there for a while, let the heat rise as much as it could and do as it pleased and we'd done little more than singed the bed sheets. I'd done worse to my surrounds while under more control in wetter conditions.

He growls, this time not at me. At least, I'm pretty sure it wasn't me that time.

"Fuck. Fuck. That- Fuck. I need to get ready. I'm supposed to be on the field already."

He's up, roughly, no consideration for me as he shakes off, does a quick flare of heat to remove what sweat has managed to cling through his feathers and a terrible attempt to remove the mess other fluids have made.

"You'll want to wash or have something that covers all.. That," I wave at his lower regions and bite back a snigger as I roll myself to the edge of the bed and sit up, eyes looking for my own uniform which shouldn't be far.

"Fuuuck. Man. Shit," his curses could really do with some originality. He looks at himself for a moment before moving to the wardrobe and flinging the door open with a bang and pawing through his options of what to wear.

I pause in what I'm doing as I watch him and debate my next action. Ignoring my uniform and the mess between my own legs I move up behind him and peer into the wardrobe, alarm continuing to flash and make it's rather annoying sounds in the background. "Here, let me help."

"This is your fault."

I can't entirely argue against that. "Do you want my help or not?"

"What would you know?" the scorn in his voice isn't exactly encouraging my desire to assist.

"More than I should. Here. Move," I shove him aside as I take charge of the situation, "How close do the cameras get? Are you likely to be stripped at any point where you wont be dirtied at the same time?"

"Wha- Uh- Close. No..?"

"You don't sound certain."

"I haven't had my clothes stripped in a fight. Ripped, sure, but not.. Stripped."

"Well, good, that makes it easier. Take these." Lime green and orange.. What looks like basketball gear. At least, in my eyes. I've never been great for differentiating sports and their uniforms. Oversized, baggy, good for covering so long as he can keep things in place.. Mostly. Presumably fighting should help burn and dirty things beyond concern past a point once he's actually out on field.

"That's from last season. I can't wear that."

"Then get a better designer who fits you in clothes that cover more."

"I- What?"

"I thought the alarm meant you needed to be somewhere. Put that on and go or stand here and argue. It's no skin off my back."

His eyes flare, hints of flame ringing his wrists for a moment before he concedes begrudgingly.

"You don't talk like a Nickel."

"My Passport says otherwise," I wave the dull grey device with it's red stripe back at him even as I've turned away to go get my uniform. He grunts and I presume he's getting into the outfit I'd handed him as I'm putting on my own. It's not exactly graceful or lady like, but I also 'borrow' one of his sheets for a moment to wipe away the worst of what's running through my fur. I'm going to need a shower. One of those times I'm actually wishing we did have underwear, ha.

The alarm is still going off as he stomps past me to the door out of his room. He looks back when he's nearly at the exit, "You can't stay here."

Well duh.

I don't actually say that though. Does he think I'm going to steal something? Where would I hide it? My room consists of a cot and a cupboard for the next day's uniform and that's it. That's the extent of my private space. The Nickels at my level also get random room inspections a couple of times a week. There's nowhere to hide anything were I inclined to take it. You can't even keep it on your person as the inspection includes a strip search. That was a mild humiliation the first time it happened, though admittedly not entirely unexpected. Also not as thorough as I would of thought. I guess Bliss makes most of the morphs too malleable to really cause concern for those in charge that any of them are actually having ideas on how and where to hide things.

"I've got duties to attend to." Not a lie, though I don't know what they'll be after this disruption. My whole daily roster is likely to be shifted a couple of hours forwards and urgh.. I'm either going to be moved to a later cycle or lose some of my limited sleep hours because of this. Great. Violet tail tips twitch in annoyance that isn't otherwise shown as I start to make my way to follow the Blaziken out.

My answer seems to be good enough as he doesn't do more than grunt again and continue on his way. Not another backwards glance and he's gone through the door with a wave of his Passport at the ID panel.

I've almost gone too far, forgotten previous intentions as I follow after him before I stop and turn around, eyes scanning the room. Ah. There we go. I knew it was there.

A half skip and a half dozen steps take me to a small table with the open bottle and I pick it up to have a look. The brand isn't recognisable but it's scotch and it'll do. A swig and there's a joyous sigh as I feel the burn down the back of my throat. It's not good. It really isn't. But damn if it isn't the best taste I've had in months. My eyes linger lovingly on the bottle a little too long before I'm able to convince myself to put the bottle down without having more. The Gods I would happily prey to if it meant I could actually get drunk again without the risk of the consequences this world offers me now. Gone are the days where the worst thing that could happen is waking up next to someone ugly.

The next sigh from my lips has lost any and all mirth for the moment and I leave the room with a swipe of my own Passport at the ID pad. For an instant there's the flare of fear that I might actually be stuck in the room. I've never been good with temptation and who knows how long it would be before the fighter returned? Who else would return with him. The consequences of being here, possibly against some unknown Rule I've never had to learn as it doesn't concern one in my current position.

Luckily the door opens and outside I step, back into the corridor and an area I have no idea how to navigate. There's no one outside the door and I'm left lost on where to go and what to do. Obviously I need to get back downstairs to my own level, but how?

Come on girl, you can't of forgotten all those years of training now, didn't it become instinctual at some point? Sure, it should of, it was for a time, but I've been living in a fog for months and though my attitude continues to shine brilliantly through the Bliss, picking up new things is still hard. Remembering recent occurrences outside of a vague general meaning is an effort. Bliss keeps you in the past, happy old memories giving you those constant pulses of pleasantness that helps you ignore the drudgery of what's going on now, to not question it. Conveniently my past was filled with too many situations like the one I'd just stepped out of, so it wasn't much effort to retrieve the needed strategies to get through it relatively unscathed.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

My own originality escapes me.

I blame the Bliss.

I look lost, because I am. I pick a direction and start walking, trying as best I can to recall where exactly we'd been lead, to backtrack from any kind of markers that pop up in my mind. The problem is every plant looks the same, the pictures blur. My mind keeps throwing images of the Blaziken's mass of propaganda images at me from his room instead of the ones I know should be lining these walls.

Fuck.

"You, Nickel. How do I get to the Arena entrance?"

I stop, look around towards the voice before quickly looking down and away. Human. Damnit.

"I uh-" shit. "I do not know, sir," Demure, small, reserved. Hard to manage with my size at times, but they're not too close and it's a role I'm now well practiced in.

"What do you mean you don't know?" At least he's not growling, sounding more exasperated than anything else. It's a pity my eyes are stuck staring at the floor and I'm seeing little more than a set of well polished shoes. Curiosity has me wondering what he looks like even as I curse his existence internally.

It's an effort to make my brain work, to find appropriate answers that aren't going to cause more trouble. Adrenalin isn't doing a very good job of clearing my head. "I am not from this level, sir."

"This level?"

"The serving Nickels live under the Colosseum, Sir," another voice, gruff, a rolling sound to some of the letters that speak of a muzzle.

"Right. Of course."

I cast a quick glance towards the two. Human and Houndoom-morph. Nostrils flared and a slight snarl to his lip. The human doesn't realise, but there's little a canine's nose doesn't pick up. It's hard not to be self conscious and flinch at the unspoken accusation in his eyes. The morph's opinion doesn't matter, not unless he says something to his human. Best not to react, don't act guilty, there's nothing to be guilty about. I complied to an order from a superior, it was with another morph. I can't be faulted for it. Shouldn't be. Of course, that's not how this world works, is it?

Eyes stay down as I stand there, hands afront of me, fingers interlaced and I wait for a command or permission to go on my way. I can't do anything until the human deigns it, not when they've addressed me directly.

"Well, can you take us to someone who knows?"

I don't even have a chance to answer as another voice cuts through.

"-Kel, what're you doing here sti-"

The clackclackclack of the claws give him away as much as the cawing sound of his words as my companion from earlier approaches from somewhere behind me. Or at least, I presume that's what is happening as I am yet to look up and I'm depending on my ears for laying out my current surroundings.

"Sir, sorry. She isn't bothering you is she, Sir?" He's flustered, the subtle shuffling of feathers giving him away as the bird realises my current company. I wish I could answer for myself. I really do.

"No, why would she be bothering-?" the human sounds somewhat confused, words cut short by the clearing of a throat, the Houndoom most likely, I doubt the bird can make that sound as effectively. "I was just asking how to get to the Arena."

The Corvisquire straightens up, puffs up his chest, "If that's the case, Sir, you need only go back the way you have come from and take the first then second left turns. That will take you to the main thoroughfare where upon signage should point you to your destination." Listen to him, parroting useful information with aplomb. I wish I'd had more yes-men like the bird back in the day. It would of made my job soooo much easier.

"Huh, well. Okay then. Back this way you said?" The human's moving, turning and gesticulating in some way as per the sounds of his clothing shifting.

"Yes Sir. If you like, I can take you..?" The Nickel doesn't sound like he actually wants to do this, something the human's companion picks up as he offers, "Your directions were not complicated. Mr Thompson will be fine," in a gruff response.

I can't hear the bird deflate with relief at this, but I know he's feeling it. A Nickel in his position always has things to do and there's never a valid excuse for why they aren't adhered to instantly, especially if someone else of higher power decides the previous order isn't as important as theirs.

"If Sir is certain, I will take my leave." A pause for only as long as politeness dictates before he turns to me, "Nickel, come with me."

Finally. I can leave. I don't have to keep my legs so tightly pressed together for fear of dripping on the pristine floors in front of someone who could make my life hell for it.

A short nod, head still down, a quick glance to the human and his pet who have already started walking away and I debate the need to curtsy before following after the superior Nickel. The pair aren't looking back, talking together, forgetting the Nickels even existed. "Why didn't you say we were going the wrong way, Shadow?" the human complains with no more response than a grunt from his companion before we've walked too far in opposite directions for conversation to continue being overheard.

"What were you doing? Why were you talking to a human? You shouldn't be anywhere near here."

Yes, because of course I entiiirely desired to put myself in that position. Not that he's really expecting a reply.

Or at least, that's what I thought until I essentially bumped into the ruffled bird as he stopped and glowered at me. "I uh, he stopped me. He was lost." Eyes flicker up for a moment to look at the Corvisquire and the sour way in which he's watching me. "Likely story.."

Now that leaves me dumbfounded to the point that my mouth drops open slightly as I look at him in disbelief. Seriously dude? You think in this state I went out of my way to attract the attention of a human? You think the usual blissed out idiot like I'm supposed to be lies?

I'm incredulous and forgetting to look down again which is making him frown more.

"That was a Thompson. You know who the Thompson- Nevermind. Of course you don't. Keep out of their way. You don't want their attention." He casts a look back the way we'd come from before turning away as if to start walking again. I want to question him, get more details. Names don't mean anything to me, not here anyway. Down in the basement there's little more than whispers and those barely exist given the Blissed nature of everyone. When your mind is in a fog most of the time, it curtails gossip quite effectively.

If this was my old life I'd dig my feet in, demand answers, more information, a useful explanation of what's just gone on, who and why.. But of course, this isn't my old life. It's this new wonderful ever so boring hunk of shit that- well.. Okay, was at least somewhat interesting for the past couple of hours.

"Come on. I've got other things I need to do more than babysit shards."

That makes me scowl at his back as he leads the way to whatever door or elevator we need to get to to leave this level. It took me a little while, the insults aren't obvious out of context, but shards is not a nice term. Useless little scraps of metal out to inconvenience you when you're not paying attention to them. Doesn't sound that bad, but then I guess a lot of slurs don't until you add the venom and disdain.

Context, it changes everything.

The return journey wasn't exciting. The bird didn't choose to speak to me further past dismissing me at a point in which he was confident I could find my way back to my own duties and the Matron. Gone in a ruffle of feathers and leaving me to my own devices. Devices that demanded I go have a shower first and foremost and then deal with whatever else was to come after that.

The Matron was spiteful. I don't think she'd expected me to come back. Perhaps she'd hoped it. Sadly for both of us, I did. The benefit for her was that one of the drains had backed up in the kitchens and I arrived at the exact perfect time to be instantly volunteered for the job. Right after I'd gotten myself clean and finally dried out my fur. I was ecstatic for the opportunity and she knew it.

It was a long day.

I'm not sure how many days it was, but I'm fairly certain it was less than a week before the Corvisquire appeared again, this time asking for me specifically.

I guess I'd made a friend.

The Matron wasn't pleased.