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It was that time of the year again. A few months before Christmas and the New Year. Less than two, in fact. Two months where the mind would wander away from such daily mundanities as employment or housework. Ten months straight, broken up by the occasional public holiday or long weekend, made the relief all the more palpable. The first real, genuine chance to kick back and enjoy a little leisure time. Parties, food and drink, and time spent with friends and family were all on the cards until the time came for the calendar to once again tick over into another year.

Even if Rhett wasn't a kitten anymore, a fact his mother liked to continually remind him of, Halloween was certainly something of a hotly anticipated holiday for the striking male feline.

And in not being a kitten, the typical activities associated with the October 31st holiday held little interest for him. Fortunately, when you were as blessed with good looks as he - a mop of messy, punky hair, a slender yet sporty body, and a charming grin - it was easy enough to find other "activities" in which to engage. Far be it from him to deny the younger generations the chance to dress up in their silly little costumes and prance from doorstep to doorstep begging for sugary treats, it was simply a case of there being more adult options available.

Of course, many of those options still involved silly costumes, though perhaps the term "silly" wasn't quite the most accurate descriptor available.

"Dude, you almost done?"

As it happened, Rhett found himself finishing off the last touches of his own costume, something which he, with some degree of embarrassment, had put more than a little effort into. Effort, and money. He had played the invitation to the office Halloween party as something he "might come on down to, if he had time." Of course he had time. What else was there to do? Though he had been working here for less than six months, he'd already established himself among a group of similarly-aged graduates as someone who liked a bit of fun. Indeed, it was always Rhett who suggested they make an evening of after work drinks on Friday night. His friends - Tobias, a rather bulky, though equally fun-loving pitbull, and the rather diminutive and shy Ryan, a red fox with the most intensely fluffy tail - were more often than not accomplices in such escapades. Strange, then, that it had been the vulpine among them to suggest they attend the party.

Office parties. Fun when it's a small company, though more often than not a tiresome obligation for larger corporations. Working for a multinational as they all did, this one would almost certainly fall into the later category. Still, free drinks and the chance to flirt with some of the cuter members of the sales team was infinitely more agreeable than pouring over spreadsheet after spreadsheet after spreadsheet.

Still, the question would be raised; 'why did you put so much effort into your costume, Rhett?

Why indeed. Probably ten or twelve hours, and a few hundred bucks had seen him assemble an exceptionally detailed and, if he dare say so, sexy, rendition of the Egyptian God of Death himself, Anubis.

Chicks dig Anubis.

Of course, there was the small matter of Anubis typically being represented as a canine - a jackal, no less - and Rhett himself being of the feline persuasion. His fur was noticeably finer and silkier than that of a canine, though perhaps not as long. A luscious, creamy white, with spots of brown about his face and upper torso. A six foot something stature with a surprisingly muscular build suggested some tiger ancestry mixed in somewhere down the line, though he wasn't noticeably larger than any of the other cats he knew. Athletic, he would say, though perhaps not quite lithe. Certainly no gymnast. That aspect of his physique suited a canine appearance just fine. Being on the taller side of six and a half feet hardly went amiss, either.

And so, a full half of the money he had invested in his costume had been spent at his local groomer. A full-body fur trim, getting his fluff cropped down nice and short, followed by a jet-black dying of his fur had turned him into exactly the figure he needed to pull off the species transformation. The shorter hairs and darker tone brought out the definition of his underlying musculature, showing off both a well toned set of abs, and nicely built arms and shoulders.

Chicks dig Anubis, because Anubis was ripped. Look it up.

"Dude!" Tobias' voice now carried a distinct tone of annoyance. "Hurry the shitting Christ on a stick up!"

Foul mouthed as always. How the dog hadn't run himself afoul of the HR department was a mystery for another day. Rhett, though, ignored the enraged demands of his friend and focused on adding the finishing touches to his outfit. Dyed black fur, nicely cropped - check. Gold highlights and streaks - check. One of these little loincloth-things that ancient Egyptians supposedly wore - check, and check it out! Short and narrow enough to show off some very nice leg muscles, yet covering what needed covering. Arm bands, headdress, check check, and finally, the most difficult part, jackal ears. His own, as was typical of his species, were rather short and pointed, little triangles sitting atop his head. The prosthetics he had purchased for some one hundred and fifty dollars now covered them entirely; the fake ears shooting up a full eight inches, black and sharp, and completing the look. There wasn't much he could do about his feline muzzle, save for covering it in a jackal mask. Black, again, complete with an ankh symbol stylised in gold, as well as a teardrop falling from one of the eyes.

Done.

"Rhett you fuckwad!"

"All right, all right, coming!"

He gave himself one last look in the mirror. Truthfully, he was almost naked. Bare chested, and with the loincloth coming down to just above his knees, there was little left to the imagination. Fortunately for Rhett, it worked better that way, and allowed him to show off in just the manner he wanted. Teasing, alluring, but leaving just a little something covered. Hopefully, it was that little something that would catch him exactly what he was after tonight.

Without further consideration, the large male feline shouldered the door to the restroom open and burst himself out to greet his waiting friends.

"Yo!" shouted Tobias, the canine doing nothing to hide the annoyance in his voice, "how much did you spend on that? Five hundred billion dollars or something?"

"Ha, not quite! Don't need that sort of money when you already look this good!"

"Says you, fuckface! You need to dress up like a dog to get any tail."

"Jackal, smartass," replied Rhett, "and you can only wish you were this stylish."

Rhett did have something of a point. Tobias hadn't really bothered with a costume. . . at all. A Freddy Kruger mask had been the extent of his efforts. That, and a torn, dirty old hoodie that the cat swore he'd seen his friend wear for a week straight on occasions. Though, if the dog was going for a disheveled look, he'd certainly achieved it.

"I think it looks pretty nice," said Ryan, the small fox finally chiming in.

"Ah! Thanks! See, at least one of us has good taste."

Tobias turned his eyes to Ryan, rolling them with a noticeable amount of disdain.

"Yeah, but that's easy for foxy here to say, just look at him! The chicks go wild for that cute look. He just needs to blink a few times and they're all over him."

"I, uh. . . yeah."

"And?" retorted Rhett, leaping to his friend's defense. "So what? You just got shafted when you were born such an ugly mutt!"

"Blame my mother."

The fox spoke again, "dude, your mom's kinda hot."

"Ryan! Fuckhead!"

---

Life at a large corporation was, for the most part, exactly as one might imagine. Dull, unending drudgery; the sensation of simply being a cog in a machine whose ultimate goal was to make other people money. That of course went doubly so when said corporation was that type that offered financial services and "advice" to all manner of scrutable and inscrutable clientele. Not something which Rhett had thought too hard about - his job was simply to match number A to number B. Though, it was worth noting that while on the surface, life here was about as bland as it could get, there was one, somewhat hidden bonus.

It wasn't just the clientele that tended towards the unsavoury, it was the management team as well. You didn't make it all that far in this industry unless you were willing to break a few rules. Again, something the male feline hadn't expended too much mental energy on, but something he had witnessed, both from his own manager, and those above. Regulation, it seemed, became far more like guidelines the higher up you went.

The positive side of this was that when it came to parties, that tendency to break a few rules came to the fore. Free booze, loud music and of course, absolutely zero concern for office-appropriate attire were the norm. Come Halloween, a time in which it was practically expected that anyone older than high school age would end their evening black-out drunk, and everything about the admittedly sleazy office culture was turned up to eleven.

"Duuuuuuuuuude!"

Trust Tobias to make an ass of himself. The trio had made their way up from the basement level, where they had prepared their costumes in the building's end-of-trip facilities, to their nominal workplace on the seventh floor. Fashionably late was the name of the game, and the room, spanning the width of the building, was already packed wall to wall with what appeared to be the vast majority of the staff.

Packed, and interacting.

With the resulting loss of inhibitions, as well as a few drinks and more than a few revealing costumes, it was clear from the display before them that there was only one thing on everyone's mind.

"Um, guys?" It was Ryan again, looking rather sheepish in his Robin Hood costume.

"Yeah?" responded Rhett.

"Do you think. . ."

"Ah come on you fuckers!" interjected Tobias, shouting loud enough for half the room to hear, "let's get smaaaaaaaashed!"

Rhett rolled his eyes. Yes, he was certainly going to indulge himself in a drink or ten at the company's expense, but that would come later. He wanted. . . something else first.

"Do you think," Ryan repeated, summoning a little additional volume in his voice, "Sasha might be here?"

"Sasha?" quizzed Rhett, watching as the heavyset pitbull began what would no doubt be an evening of making a complete ass of himself. "The boss's daughter? You're after her?"

"Um. . . yeah?"

"Man, she's like. . . older than you. And bigger than you. And a wolf. You want that?"

"She's hot."

Rhett shrugged. Sasha was known around the office as being a bit of a flirt. A bit of an aggressive flirt, that is. The male feline would be lying to himself if he said he'd not thought about getting inside her pants, though with that came concerns over being found out, along with, well, her more lupine characteristics. He'd seen the way she'd looked at people she liked; with piercing yellow, practically predatory eyes. The small fox stood no chance.

The small fox, however, was gone.

With the decision made for him, Rhett scanned the room. Who was he to deny someone the object of their affections, even if the ride might be so wild as to be dangerous. Not him, and certainly not when he had his own "hunting" to do.

Choices, choices, and more choices. This was the part he felt the least confident about; picking out his prey before the chase. He knew, even if it was a little narcissistic, that he had been rather lucky in the looks department. Who didn't like a muscular, six and a half foot athlete? That, and you know what they say about feline tongues. Temper that with a reasonably amiable personality, though one hardly lacking in confidence, and casual hook-ups were something he was rather familiar with. A quick tumble in the sack after an office party, with the whole ordeal forgotten come Monday seemed to be well within reach, even if he'd not done it before.

"Hi!"

Jen, his manager's secretary, appeared before him. Eighteen and fresh out of highschool, it wasn't hard to see how the cute little doe had landed herself a job. Small, with perhaps a little less meat on her than Rhett would have liked, though with a pair of legs that would put a catwalk model to shame, all topped with the most pert and shapely little butt.

Rhett wouldn't say no.

"Hi yourself!"

Turn on the charm.

Jen's costume of choice was definitely on the risque side, if not outright slutty. She'd gone for something of a cyberpunk look, with a leather jacket about four sizes too small covering perhaps a third of her torso and. . . some shorts. Nothing else. No tank top, no bra, nothing; the young doe was relying entirely on the jacket to cover her assets, and the shorts to cover the rest. A feast for the eyes. Rhett's eyes.

He made a point of looking her up and down, taking in the fur presented so alluringly before him.

"I don't think I've seen you around," she continued, taking a step closer, "but nice costume! Where do you work?"

She. . . didn't recognise him. How? How many furs of his stature were there around here?

"Ah, well!" he caught himself. "I work for Mister Campbell, and I heard he had this reaaaaaaally cute secretary, have you seen her around?"

That got a blush, and another pace closer. He could smell her now, a delicate, almost flowery scent. Perfume and shampoo for sure, but nevertheless quite enticing.

"Aww, and what sort of work does a big, bad jackal do for my boss?" she asked.

"Oh! Oh that's you! I'm sorry, I thought he just had a cute secretary, not a smokin' ten."

Realistically, more like an eight, but it never hurt to pump the ego a little in these situations.

"Well, Mister Jackal," she continued, her voice now a little lower, "I heard we had this cute little fox boy working for us, but I think I could be persuaded to try something a little larger. With a bit more. . . meat."

She snapped her teeth upward at him. Hardly the aggressive, toothy display that you might get from another predator species, but almost endearing when coming from the dainty little doe.

"You're being very forward there. . ."

"Jen."

"Jen. Veeeeeery nice name."

She smirked, "laying it on a little thick there, Mister Jackal. Maybe the cute little fox is a better choice after all."

"I suppose he might be," replied Rhett, taking a step back, and making a show of running his eyes up and down her slender form. "After all, a tiny little bit of deer meat is hardly a fitting meal for a god."

A giggle this time, "you think very highly of yourself, don't you?"

"If I can't dress up and pretend to be someone I'm not, what fun is Halloween?"

The doe met his pace backward with two of her own, the top of her head now resting just under his chin. A tiny little paw pressed to his naked abdomen, fingers running through the short cropped fur and tracing out each and every one of his protruding abdominal muscles.

"You might be dressed up," she said, her free paw joining the first and rubbing across his midriff, "but these are certainly real. Do you work out much, Mister Jackal?"

Rhett narrowed his eyes on her.

"Yeah, a little bit," he said, "but it's not like I really make an effort. I guess it's just. . . good breeding. Why? Find something that you like?"

"I'm thinking that maaaaaaaaaybe a bit more meat might be on the menu tonight. Are you a kind god, Mister Jackal?"

Rhett scoffed, pulling back and folding his arms across his broad chest. His tail flicked behind him excitedly, betraying his mood.

"Oh? Do you?" he continued, making a show of glancing left and right, his eyes exploring several of the other 'options' available to him. "Well I'm not sure if a prime cut like this is really suitable for a little deer girl. You don't look like you could bite off much meat. But hey, I hear fox meat is really tender. . ."

He returned his eyes to her, flashing a grin. Treacherous tail or not, it was exciting to be propositioned so quickly.

". . . and yes, I am a kind god. I might be able to get you that little bit of fox meat you're hungering for."

"Aaaaaand," Jen cooed, reaching out and again tracing a fingertip through his fur, "where does that leave the big, bad jackal?"

"He needs to find something a little tastier. He's in the mood for nice, warm, juicy meal-aaahhhh!"

Before the final few words were able to escape his lips, something small, hot, and wet pressed itself to his collarbone and dragged itself up through his fur. The feline shuddered at the contact, his eyes instinctively closing as the young doe ran her tongue across his fur, up and along his neckline and ending with the tiniest of kisses planted just under his chin.

"I've got something warm and juicy for you, if you want it. Just. . . say so."

How long had it been? Five minutes? Rhett again glanced around, scoping out any attention he may have drawn to himself. Their late arrival, past the nominal start time for the party by some hour and a half, had ensured that the majority of the staff were already either drunk, or engaged in their own acts of debauchery, or both. Not a single set of eyes found their way over to where he was seconds from descending into that same, lust-filled haze as everyone else.

It almost seemed a waste of the costume.

Even with all the sexual energy flowing about, there wasn't quite the stir in his loins that he had anticipated. Jen was attractive, and the thought of ravishing her was exceptionally appealing, but there was that little something missing, a small, almost imperceptible need upon which the rest of his libido stood. Something. . . carnal. A chase. Prey. Call it what you want, this wasn't it.

"Jen. . ." he said.

"Hmmm, yeeeessss?"

In spite of himself, his paw reached out, contacting the soft, silky fur of the deer girl and running down her flank, first over the material of her shorts before then contacting bare fur. He lingered over each and every curve as he came to them, squeezing her supple flesh gently each time before proceeding lower. She felt good. Exceptional. Silky, soft and smooth, and warm beneath his caresses. Her soft moans, joining in now with the inevitable purr rumbling up from his throat, served only to add to the sensuality of the encounter.

"Ohhh, Mister Jackal is really just a big kitty cat, is he?" she said, now all but grinding her crotch against him.

"He is."

"Does Mister Kitty want to play with his food a little?"

"Maaaaaybe. If it's nice and hot, that is."

"It is for you. Here. . . feel."

Jen took Rhett's paw in her own, pressing it firmly against her flank, fingers interlocking briefly before she slid it down and around, sliding it between her thighs. Even through the shorts, the feline could feel the heat coming from her, pulsing in waves, each one almost matching the ever increasing rate of his own heart. As he slid over those final few inches, she withdrew her own paw, tempting him to continue on his own, free from any pressure. He would have to do this of his own accord. He would have to do this because he wanted it.

Did he?

No shit. Stupid question. And yet. . .

"See?" she said, as if sensing his trepidation, "just touch me. . . ah. . . right there!"

And so he did. Even without her guidance, though very much with her insistence, his touch imminently pressed between her legs, palm cupping up and under her mound and pressing inwards. His fingers, too, found their mark, tracing her slit through what was a far thinner covering of fabric than he had expected. Not only was she hot, she was wet. A patch of moisture, small yet steadily growing as her juices soaked through to his fingertips, formed as he slowly started to work over her snatch.

An action which rewarded him with a moan.

"Hmmm, Mister Kitty," she was now the one to purr, "do you think you might want to take care of me. . . down there?"

Rhett was very rapidly discovering that the lack of action from his own nethers was a problem for thirty seconds ago, and very much not for his current, horny state. His loincloth paid him no favour in the modesty department, and with his member becoming engorged with blood, it would be a matter of seconds before he was practically poking Jen in her belly with his cathood.

"But my little doe is all wrapped up," he responded, pulling his paw back from its ministrations and tugging at the waistline of her shorts.

"Oh well," she giggled, feigning disappointment, "if only there was something we could do about it. Surely a big, strong god isn't going to be put off if he doesn't get exactly what he wants on the spot, hmmmm?"

"He might. He expects his worshipers to attend to his needs."

Another giggle, accompanied this time with a thrust of her hips, the motion thrusting her crotch forwards, seeking out further attention from the feline's paws. He could smell her now, needy and ready.

Jen's voice dropped to a heated whisper, "then why don't I go and show you just how much I can worship your co. . ."

Rhett pressed his finger to her lips - the same digit which had been working between her legs seconds earlier. Her scent became thicker, and if he could smell it, she certainly could. A timely reminder.

"You're a horny little doe. You know you are, and you need. . ."

The thought of what she needed, however, abruptly fell from Rhett's frontal cortex quicker than the spreadsheets he had been pouring over earlier that day. Jen was cute, hot even, but if you took away the fact that any guy will and does fantasise at some point about practically every girl he comes across, there was nothing particular that set her apart from any other piece of ass. A nice piece of ass, to be sure, but nothing speciall. Not something memorable. Not something worthy of conquest.

It was perhaps strange, then, that what tore his eyes and mind away from the lusty doe throwing herself upon him wasn't the sight of another girl, or even the thought of one, it was in fact a flash of orange. Orange fluff, more accurately. More accurately still, an orange tail, one with a brilliant white tip. The vibrant colour made way to a more subdued green as Rhett's eyes focused in on what had so suddenly captured his attention.

It was Ryan, plain and simple, sporting his dorky Robin Hood costume and chatting to some girl. The fox's tail was madly swishing back and forth, indicative of his obvious excitement. Sure, he might have said he had been after a wolf bitch with distinctive MILF qualities, but he seemed to have found someone rather a bit more nubile. Whoever it was, she was cute; obviously feline as Rhett was, though without a costume to hide her species and colourings.

Rhett's sensitive ears caught a snippet of whatever conversation his friend had struck up.

". . . oh really? I didn't know you worked here, Rh. . "

Wait? Was that his name? Ryan was talking about him, or so his ears had just suggested.

Jen seemed a distant thought, and Rhett released his grip on her.

"Oh? Mister Kitty? Something the matter?"

"Shhh. . ."

His eyes narrowed in.

". . . yeah, I supposed that's right, isn't it? Oh no, I got most of this online, I'm not very. . ."

Whatever response she gave the fox, the feline didn't hear, save for a slight giggle. It wasn't much to go on, yet in spite of that, Rhett found himself strangely drawn in. A closer look was needed; he had to find out. Maybe it was some sort of inherent competitiveness, maybe something else. Ryan wasn't exactly suave when it came to the fairer sex, though as Tobias had stated, he had enough natural, physical charm about him, along with an endearing innocence to his personality, that it didn't much matter.

"Mister Jackal?"

And here he was, unknowingly layering it on to someone who Rhett just couldn't keep his eyes off.

"Um? Mister Jackal?" Jen's voice came with a tug at his arm this time.

No. No way. It couldn't be. Here? Now?

"Come with me, let me introduce you to someone. I think you'll like them. Very. . . tender."

"Ahh!"

Rhett thrust his arms out, grabbing the doe still gently tugging at him. Without a thought as to the impropriety of his actions, he marched them through the throng of employees to where his vulpine friend stood, the smaller female in tow, and with all sensual notions thoroughly suppressed.

Save for one.

It had struck him like a thunderbolt, the realisation as to exactly who Ryan had been chatting with. In retrospect, he should have noticed earlier, though perhaps he could have been forgiven the momentary lapse of memory, on account of the rush of hormones still coursing through his body. The mind tended not to be the clearest when fogged over with thoughts of sex. This, however, should have been obvious.

Anita. His younger sister. In her final year of college, and partaking in an internship at the same company where he himself worked.

"Goddamn. . ."

In retrospect, he should have picked it out as soon as he had spotted her costume. Anita had always been the nerdy sort - sporting a thick-framed pair of glasses that accentuated a wonderfully slender frame, though topped with a nicely portioned pair of breasts - and she had picked a halloween costume to match. Ankha, the Egyptian catgirl that everyone had been lusting over recently courtesy of a certain video made available online, was her chosen attire. Rhett had to give credit where credit was due; she had done an excellent job, almost as good as his own Anubis costume. With the benefit of a few seconds of thought on the matter, it should have come as no surprise; Anita had professed a love of mythology and fantasy since she was a small kitten, and this wouldn't have been the first time she'd cosplayed as a character reflective of that. Each October since her teenage years had seen her pick something out and show it off, though it would be fair to say this was the first time she had selected something so obviously. . . sexual.

"God. . . damn!"

Rhett didn't know what to make of this. Her costume wasn't exactly family friendly, though it wasn't quite risque enough to call slutty. A shorter than average skirt, the typical headdress, much like his own, and a fair degree of midriff on display spoke volumes, and said she was certainly looking for something above and beyond what a simple party might offer.

And there was Ryan, knowingly inching closer and closer towards exactly that.

Rhett clenched his jaw. This was something else. He didn't fault the fox for wanting in on some action, but the feeling he felt, the feeling that rampaged about him, building with every step he took towards his sibling, screaming out one word.

Jealousy.

". . . fuck."

How could it be Ryan, of all foxes! Even Tobias, as crude as he was, made an effort to win girls over, even if it was mostly unsuccessful. Ryan, though? He had them hook, line, and sinker without even trying. Without even knowing he had scored himself a prize.

That orange-furred bastard!

Perhaps jealousy wasn't quite the right term. Envy might be more appropriate. The chase which Rhett so valued, he was losing it. Someone else was showing that he was better than the cat, even if that someone was just a small fox without the nerve to speak to a girl on his own. Had Anita approached him? Probably, though she had always been a little shy as well. Of course, that didn't matter, Ryan was winning. Jen was hardly the catch. Easy, sure, but not something you'd brag about.

A thought as to the wolf who he knew Ryan was after, Sasha, entered his mind. Perhaps that was the conquest he was after tonight? Sure, she was older, almost thirty, but nobody who had seen her complained. And he had, on the way in, though he hadn't mentioned it to the fox. The wolfess had chosen a dirty police officer outfit, with an exceptionally tight jacket. Perfect for the bad girl look, which she had in spades.

Rhett didn't mind the idea of being "arrested" by her. He doubted Ryan would mind even half as much.

But, that was just it. Even that wouldn't be quite the prize that. . .

. . . that was it!

He picked up his pace, crossing the remaining distance to Ryan and Anita in a few short seconds. It was all about the challenge. What a conquest this would be! He had bait on him in the form of Jen, something to offer up to the fox to distract, and then. . . go for the kill.

That what he was about to do might be considered a little on the taboo side, that didn't even enter his mind. Quite the opposite; his loins practically quivered at the thought. His sister, his own flesh and blood, the one girl you're not supposed to touch. Winning her in some game with this fox, that would be. . . hot. That would be a conquest.

"Hey!"

Rhett came to a stop, with Jen a few paces behind him, practically in between Ryan and Anita.

"Oh!" said the fox, "I didn't see you there Rh-"

The feline cut him off with a laugh and a hard clap across the back.

"Ah, little Robin Hood! I've got a little surprise for you! Gotta look out for all my less fortunate friends, after all. What is it now, take from the rich and give to the poor?" The faux-jackal had added a deep, powerful accent to his voice, masking it from recognition from anyone who didn't already know who was beneath the mask.

Ryan opened his mouth once, then closed it again, before speaking.

"I. . . what's going on?"

Jen, silent to this point, was again tugged forward, this time with Rhett's strong paws resting on each of her shoulders.

"This cute little bit of tail is Jen," he said, "and she was telling me just how hungry she was for a bit of fox meat."

As far as rejections go, this one was rather well played, on the part of both the male feline and the young female deer. Sensing the intent of her would-be hook up for the evening, Jen gently peeled one of the cat's paws from her shoulders, and slipped herself out from underneath the other. Delicately pacing forward, her finger came up and under Ryan's chin, and their faces met with a sultry smile.

"Well," she started, "looks like Mister Jackal is a generous god after all. I think you'll do quite nicely, foxboy."

"Oh, will I? Um, thanks! You're quite nice, too!"

"Why don't I show you just how nice I can be?"

Too easy. Much too easy. With a wink, and a flash of her tongue, the doe performed her role to perfection, softly guiding the fox away from the pair of felines. Perhaps some might have been offended at the sudden switch, though in this case, the unspoken truth here was that ultimately, all concerned were simply after a quick and easy hook-up. To have someone all but deposited into your lap, while striking as a bit rude, had certain advantages to it. No need to pretend, no need to try, just a bit of fun. Jen was happy to return the favour, stopping momentarily to whisper into Anita's ear.

"Have fun with him."

In spite of the noise of their surroundings, the two felines stared at each other for a few tense seconds in what felt like a cone of silence. Rhett eyed his sister up and down. To call her attractive would not have been inaccurate, even if those words came from her brother. She absolutely was, in a cute, girl-next-door sort of manner. The costume, the Ankha get-up, served only to accentuate that.

"Well, well, well, by the power of Ra, what do we have here?" she started, her voice far lighter than Rhett had expected, ". . .Anubis. Nice to see someone else with an appreciation!"

And there was the geeky side.

"Oh, yeah!" he replied, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "I think all that Egyptian stuff is pretty cool! Your costume is pretty awesome as well, I couldn't help but notice!"

She smiled. A genuine, warm smile.

"Thanks! What's your name?"

And there it was. As with Jen, Rhett's costume had served its purpose, and served it well. His own sibling, the girl he had shared a house with for the vast majority of his life, did not recognise him.

"Name?" he growled. "You already know that. How about you just call me. . . your lordship, hmmm?"

The smile, as endearing as it may have been, was instantly replaced by a seductive grin.

"Oh, I see, is that how it is going to be, your lordship?"

"It is," he returned the grin, adding to it a few confident strides towards his sister, muscular arms folded across his equally muscular chest, "and it doesn't pay to be disrespectful to a god."

His sister folded her own arms, though a little lower down her chest, pushing her breasts up and out.

"No, it doesn't," she said, "but Anubis was loved; people greatly respected him. Are you worthy of such respect, your lordship?"

"Why don't you tell me, little kitten?"

She laughed, though didn't back down.

"Little kitten?" Her voice almost had an air of mockery about it. "You may be the God of the Dead, but do you know who I am? I am the mighty and glorious Ankha! You should bow down to me. . . peasant!"

Rhett was starting to enjoy this.

"And why would I do that, little kitten?" he teased, taking yet another step closer, bringing him all but toe to toe with his sister. "Gods are supposed to be worshiped, not the other way around."

Her eyes suddenly lit up, 'oh yes, of course, but you know that Anubis actually lost his job as God of the Dead to Osiris? Kicked right out. Besides, you're more of a Wepwawet, think."

"Wepwawet?"

Anita nodded eagerly, "yes, Wepwawet. Anubis' brother. He had a wolf's head, Anubis is usually portrayed as a jackal. Quite different! And you know, he was the God of War, so if you're looking to. . . win something over tonight, that might have been a better choice for you."

"Maybe so," continued Rhett, unphased, "but it looks like you're stuck with Anubis for tonight, and he still needs followers. What is a god without a few cute little temple girls to worship him?"

Anita's pompous act dropped for just a moment, replaced by a slight blush. It only lasted a second or two, but it was definitely there.

"And why should I worship some washed-out god?" she replied, regaining her composure.

"Because," the male feline said, "he wants to reward those who please him, and I'm sure you're eager to please, aren't you?"

Though he'd not admit it, his heart was pounding in his chest. This was so. . . exciting! Here he was, done up in costume, flirting with his sister, and she was eating it up.

"Maybe. . ." she said, touching her finger to her chin. "I suppose even a peasant god needs help from time to time."

Rhett smirked. As close as he was, he felt the urge, an overwhelming desire, to move closer. There was only one thing left to do.

"Little kitten," he said, reaching up and clasping his paw about his sister's, "why don't you tell me all about Anubis and Weepawoot and Osiris. You've got a really cute voice, I'd love to hear more."

"Oh. . . I see. . ." her blush intensified, "well, um, what do you want. . . to know?"

He squeezed gently, rubbing his finger across the back of her paw.

"Tell me what this poor little peasant god can do to win back his followers. Why did Osiris take over?"

"He, um, didn't exactly take over, and people still like Anubis, he was-"

"Do you like Anubis?"

"I. . . yes, oh yes!"

The male moved his face a few inches closer. He could smell her now. Less fragrant than Jen, though perhaps that was just a fact of her wearing less perfume. It hardly mattered; Rhett was as hard as a rock, the mere thought of what he was doing, what he was about to do, sending shiver after shiver of excitement through his body. Raw, sexual energy, an urge unlike any he had ever felt.

And it felt good. Very good. This was what victory felt like.

"So," he continued, still leaning his face in, the nose of the jackal mask almost touching Anita's little button, "tell me why you like Anubis so much? Do you go for bad boys?"

"What, oh no! No, and Anubis isn't exactly a. . . bad boy, so to speak. He's just. . . um. . . sexy?"

"Am I sexy?"

". . . yes," her voice was coming in hushed, heated whispers now.

"Tell me again."

"You're. . . sexy. . . and hot. . ."

"Hmmm?"

". . . your lordship."

"Oh, so now little kitten wants to be a good follower, does she? How did furs worship the God of the Dead?"

"In a temple," Anita responded, her eyelids starting to flutter.

"In a temple," Rhett repeated, sliding his paw down just a little to fully cup her chin. "This doesn't look much like a temple to me. Maybe we should go somewhere a little quieter."

"If. . . if it would please you, your lordship."

"Good little kitten, I think you deserve a reward. Close your eyes for me."

Anita did as her brother instructed, without question, nor hesitation. Her soft eyes, outlined with black and gold Egyptian markings, slowly closed. Her head tilted upwards, a whimper escaping from her muzzle as Rhett lifted her chin towards his own muzzle. He paused, admiring his handiwork - the state to which he had already reduced his little sister.

There was, though, one more thing needed.

Risking the exposure, he reached up with his free paw and removed the mask from his face, albeit for the briefest of moments. His eyes cast left and right, searching the furs for that certain, telltale orange blur.

There.

Ryan had obviously already worked his charming, effortless magic upon Jen. The deer girl had her muzzle buried in the vulpine's neck, tongue working furiously across him as she sought to give the young fox a hickey. He looked to be rather enjoying himself, and who would blame him? The doe would likely be willing to do anything and everything he told her to by the end of the evening.

As if on queue, he opened his eyes, and met with Rhett's own gaze.

The words were unspoken, but the mere sight spoke volumes.

"Look what I have here."

"This is my sister. I can catch any girl I want, even my own sibling. I am going to enjoy this."

The words might as well have been telepathic, as far as the vulpine was concerned, especially given Rhett's getup. Whatever look of surprise might have spread across Ryan's face was instantly and savagely overwhelmed as Jen's paws found their way south and clasped firmly about his growing foxhood. Even though the pants, the painful tent he was sporting was obvious.

Rhett grinned, flashing his feline fangs before he finally did it, and crossed that barrier. The barrier he had never given a thought to, but that now represented an irresistible challenge.

One which he eagerly accepted.

The cat sunk his muzzle down and locked his lips with those of his sweet, darling little sister. It started slow and sensual, an almost romantic touch of muzzle to muzzle, as if they were lovers posing for an audience.

Well, perhaps not lovers, but there was certainly an audience.

The soft, tender kiss lasted all for two seconds before something broke, like glass, inside both of them. A growl escaped from Rhett, and a purr from his sister, as muzzles opened and tongues lashed out, wrapping about the other and drawing themselves into a passionate, heated bout of making out. It was wild. It was raw. It was on display for everyone, though outwardly it may simply have looked like two cats who were really, really into each other.

Only Ryan knew better.

The fox said nothing, Jen saw to that with her own brand of oral attention now lavished upon his own diminutive muzzle.

Rhett and Anita, brother and sister, the taboo nature of their coupling lost in the passion of their embrace, continued to devour one and other. Seconds after the initial contact, paws began to roam and explore, feeling down flanks and across shoulders and arms, grabbing pawfuls of fur, and inching closer towards more intimate regions. Anita's purrs became moans, her hips starting to buck and thrust towards her brother's fingers, now tracing circles across her bare belly.

It was the male who broke first, his muzzle split into a broad smirk, full of fang and guile.

"Your fur is perfect, little kitten," he breathed, replacing the mask just as Anita's eyes fluttered open. "You must take good care of it. You'll make a wonderful follower."

"How. . . how can I please my god?"

The kiss, as brief as it may have been, had clearly had the intended effect. Her eyes gazed up at her brother, his face hidden beneath the canid mask, though not the sounds of his heavy breathing, nor the sight of his broad chest heaving up and down. Full of lust and desire, her expression pleading, she asked again.

"How can I please you? Let me. . . let me show you what a good little kitten I can be!"

Again, Rhett took her paw in his own, though with a force that he had not used before. There was intent behind his motions, carnal intent, as he pushed it downward, first pressing it to his toned abdominals, allowing her a few moments to savour the contours of his masculine physique, before urging her lower. Eagerly, she agreed, his guidance no longer needed as she slipped her fingers under the loincloth of his costume. Of course, he had worn underwear, though these posed little impediment as his sister deftly slipped under the elastic and grasped firmly about his rock hard member.

"Does my god need his cock taken care of?" she cooed.

"Hmmm, he likes the sound of that. Do you like what you have there?"

Anita pressed her head to Rhett's chest, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, drawing it in before letting it out in a low, lustful moan.

"I do," she replied. "You're big. Really big. Are you going to claim me with this? Will you reward your horny little temple girl with some nice, hot jackal cock?"

"If you do what I say," came his response, the growl again returning to his voice.

Her paw started to move, slowly at first, though sliding all the way from his base to his tip, finishing with a squeeze.

"Tell me about your fantasies, little kitten," he ordered. "You are eager, and I like an eager worshiper. There must be some reason you are so willing to please."

"Oooooh, yes. . . yes! I've always. . . f-fuck. I really have a bit of a thing for cosplay, and um, like, powerful. . . characters. I want to be taken by someone like that, taken and just told what to do. Like I'm all alone in my bed and someone big and strong, a god even, comes in and has their way with me. . . please!"

Rhett's cock went from hard to granite at those words. His sweet little sister, so long the nerdy, geeky type with her cute glasses and cute little butt running about in a skirt, was suddenly this lusty, needy kitten, begging for his cock. She had a fetish, everyone did, but hers had lined up perfectly with what he was doing. He could get her to do anything he wanted, anything at all. He knew it. She knew it.

"You'll do what I order, won't you?"

"Yes!"

"Anything I want, without question?"

"Please! Make me! Make me suck you off! Make me spread my legs for you!"

The male feline threw his head back as his sister sped up her paw around his cock. The organ, nine inches long and solid as it had ever been, sprung out from under the loincloth. Ryan could see, the furs around them could see, but he didn't care. He knew that he had done this, knew that he had won over someone who he shouldn't have been able to. Everything about him, his body, his sexual organ, the effort he had put into his costume, had led to the obscene display he and his sister now presented for the blissfully unaware audience.

"Look at me."

"You'll talk about this on Monday, behind my back, but you will all wish you were me."

"I have this."

"I can make her do anything."

"Look at me."

"LOOK AT ME!"

Ego and libdio mixed together in a scintillating combination, driving thoughts into Rhett's mind that he'd never imagined he would be entertaining. Of all the options that may have been available at the start of the evening, from when he first adopted the persona of the God of the Dead, only one of those paths seemed likely now. Only one was laid out before him. Well, sprawled out.

Anita, on her back, legs spread, screaming for release, and his cock pounding in and out of her, bringing her closer with every thrust.

A droplet of pre dribbled from his tip.

"K-kitten," he panted, "I think we had better take this to a more secluded setting. You can show me just how loyal you are."

Her face split into another grin, the Ankha costume making what was already a seductive expression downright bewitching.

"I know the place, but it's not exactly. . . private. Does my god mind if people see his little pet pleasure him?"

"Not at all, let them see. In fact, make sure they see."

In what he would look back on as one of the less thoroughly considered decisions in his working life, Rhett allowed his sister to lead him, by his cock no less, through the crowd of furs engaged in their own intimate acts, towards the front of the building. Here were the offices of the more senior members of management, offering an exclusive view of the street, as well as the picturesque park opposite the front entrance.

None of that mattered. Rhett didn't even notice that the office in question belonged to his boss, Mr Campbell. The old tiger would certainly have a few interesting scents to ponder over come the next working day. Not quite as intense as what the other attendees of the party would have to consider in the next few minutes; the office facade was entirely glass. Tinted, yes, and offering a modicum of concealment, though nowhere near enough to leave any doubt as to what the two felines would be engaging in.

With the door closing silently behind them, Anita released her brother's cock and sat her rump down on the desk, kicking the high-backed office chair away as she did so and crossing her legs.

"Here we are!" she said, licking her lips, "this little kitten is r-ready to prove her worth."

The slight waver in her voice betrayed what was obviously an overwhelming level of excitement and expectation, a fact that Rhett instantly pounced upon.

"Are you wet for me?" he asked, slowly pacing his away across the carpet towards her, "is your little pussy soaked?"

"It is. For you."

"For me?"

Anita uncrossed her legs. The Ankha costume had come with a skirt, and while it covered a little more fur than Rhett's loincloth, it was noticeably shorter. Her long, slender legs and perfect, creamy fur were on full display for him, a feast for the eyes and an enticing lure for his sex drive. In the confines of the office, he could smell her too. Far more heady and musky than Jen had been, or at least she was by this point, and far more eager and willing. Far hornier.

And certainly, as she had said, very, very wet.

"Show me," he commanded, his paws slamming down on the edge of the desk, one either side of where she was seated, "show me your offering. Please your god."

"Of. . . of course. . ."

And show she did. Anita threw her head backwards, the rest of her body following as she lay back on the desk, eyes closed and jaw agape. Her paws snaked downwards, slipping through the fur of her belly, over her legs and grasping the hem of her skirt. With the tiniest, cutest giggle escaping her lips, she hiked the material upwards, exposing her crotch to her brother. At the same time, her thighs parted ever so slightly.

Not just wet. Drenched. Soaked.

She had chosen a pair of striking white panties, plain and simple, and perhaps a size or two too small. It wouldn't have made much difference, she had leaked her essence to the point that they might as well have been see-through. Her labia strained against the fabric, framing for Rhett what surely must have been the most perfect little pussy he had ever seen.

Or rather, was about to see.

His own paws reached out, a slight tremble in his fingers as he slipped them under the waistband, one on each side of her hips. Here, her fur was even softer, even more serene and luxurious, and of course, the colour matching his own perfectly were it not for the dye.

"Kitten, I'm going to take these off you now. I want you to spread your little cunt for me. I want you to show me everything, show me what I'll be feasting on tonight."

"Yes. . . sir.. . "

He slid the panties down a few inches, bringing her alluring little pubic mound into view.

"Tell me then," he said, "what you'll do for me."

"I'll. . . I'll. . ." she was half gasping, half moaning, "I'll spread myself for you."

"You'll spread what for me?"

"My tight little cunt. It's yours. Do what you want!"

What came next was a single, swift motion; aggressive and forceful to the point where in bordered on the violent, in which Anita's tight fitting panties, the only thing remaining that covered her sibling shame, were yanked over her thighs, down her legs and off the ends of her feet. Rhett brought the now superfluous garments to his nose, pressing them under his mask, and took a deep breath. It was this, more than anything else, that sent his heart rate racing to new heights, and his nervous system into overdrive.

Anita, his cute little sister, now all but his obedient little sex slave, did as instructed. Her fingers pressed down on her slit, rubbing down and through her damp folds before parting her petals for the enraptured male. Perfect, pale pink flesh was there for him, a forbidden fruit he never knew he had wanted, but that he now simply could not resist.

He took another breath in, savouring her overwhelmingly feminine aroma, before tossing the panties aside and bringing the same paw to the entrance of his sister's love tunnel. Slowly, almost lovingly, he ran his fingers through her folds, feeling her heat and moisture spread itself about the probing digits. A single fingertip slipped in, just for a moment, causing her vaginal walls to contract about it.

"Please. . ." she was begging now. Wantonly begging. He would happily oblige.

Rhett joined his index and middle finger together and pressed inwards, sinking them knuckle by knuckle into his sister's pussy, feeling every single inch along the way as her most intimate region claimed down upon the incestuous intrustion. Her hips writhed back and forth across the desk, her pert little rump raising from the wooden surface as she desperately attempted to fuck herself against his paw. A few final millimeters and his palm pressed to her clit. Fingers embedded inside her, he now curled his pads upwards, pressing against her g-spot for an electrifying moment before withdrawing. Just as he was about to remove himself, as he well should have from his own flesh and blood, he again plunged his paw forward, before bringing it out once more and building up a steady pace, though growing faster with each pump.

"Yes.. . yes. . . finger fuck your little kitten!"

The moans of pleasure, music to his ears, a sign of his victory, spurred him on. Deeper and faster he pleasured her, Anita moaning and purring just as he said she would, though unaware of just how far beyond inappropriate the act truly was. Already, her juices leaked out, staining the surface of what was almost certainly an expensive piece of office furniture.

It might as well have been the resolute desk itself for all she cared. For all Rhett cared.

"I'm. . . I'm going to cum!" she screamed, her wails of pleasure certainly altering the rest of the floor.

That was quick. Rhett felt a little proud.

"Are you, kitten? Are you going to cum for you god?"

"Yes! He's going to make me! He's. . . you're going to make me cum!"

"Say my name, kitten."

"A-Anubis!"

"Do you worship your god?"

She bit her lip, unable to respond. Tears streamed from her eyes, and though her breasts were covered, they too heaved and bounced back and forth and Rhett continued to pump his fingers in and out of her pussy.

"Do you worship me, mortal!?" his voice came almost as a roar.

She nodded. Meekly, but in the affirmative.

"Do you squirt?"

Another nod.

"Then. . ." his paw slowed down, coming to a stop for three, four, five seconds, ". . . squirt for me."

Rhett resumed his frantic fingering of his sister. The wet sounds of her cunt, the obscene scent now filling the room had him on fire. The male feline cast his gaze back over his shoulder, looking out of the tinted glass office windows. . .

. . . and directly into Ryan's eyes.

He would have shown surprise, or more reasonably, shock, if it were not for the fact that Jen's head, adorable little deer ears sticking straight up, was bobbing up and down between his legs. The doe was on her knees and visiting what was undoubtedly a mind-blowing blowjob upon the young fox.

Rhett grinned. He preferred what he had. A million times over.

Anita did too. With a long, drawn out and deep thrust of his fingers, pressing down as hard as he dared over her g-spot, his sister came. Explosively so. She screamed, thrashed and threw her paws up to cover her face as her pussy convulsed and gushed about her brother's expert fingers. As her fluids flowed, he continued to slide his digits in and out, milking the wave of pleasure for every drop it was worth.

Ryan seemed to be having his own orgasmic experience, if the expression now twisting his own facial features into one of blissful nirvana was anything to go by. Enough that he seemed oblivious to the crazed display of incest playing out before him. Enough that he may have committed the same act if the chance were there.

Rhett wasn't done. He hadn't even started.

"Kitten," he whispered to no avail, his voice inaudible above his sister's cries of pleasure, "I'm going to fuck you now."

He lowered his voice even further, so that there was no chance she would hear it. This wasn't for her, this was for him.

". . . your big brother is going to fuck you."

With her snatch still spilling feminie love nectar across the desk, and her face still twisted with savage lust, Rhett tore his loincloth aside, dropped his underwear and pressed his rock hard tip to his sister's folds. Barbed, feline cock stood ready to sink into her taboo depths, claiming that which should not be claimed.

Anita sensed it too, though any notion that it was wrong clearly didn't cross the young cat's mind, hazed and overridden by her soul-crushing orgasm.

"Anita. . ."

He pressed forward, his younger sibling still in the throes of her climax as he entered her with all nine inches of his cathood. There was resistance; she was tight, but he still slid in. He relished the feeling about his shaft, the sensation one he had never felt before, not with any of the dozens of girls he'd slept with. No-one had been this eager for him, nobody so ready, and certainly nobody whose cunt felt so goddamn good.

All the way in he sunk, to the very bottom, his muscular physique now looming over the smaller female as he began thrusting and pumping his hips. Her entire body shook with every motion of his hips, slamming in and sending her already taxed body to another level of pleasure entirely. The dying embers of her first orgasm roared back to life, a thunderous cavalcade of rapturous pleasure rollicking over every last inch of her tiny frame. Her cunt was on fire, begging to be filled, screaming for her god to claim it, to claim her - mind, body, and soul.

"OH MY GAAAAAAAAWD!"

Anita screamed, loud enough to mask the fact that her brother too was vocalising the sublime pleasure in which he was currently drowning. In his case, though, this involved screaming her name. The name of his own sister, a name that whoever wore the Anubis costume, whoever was under that jackal mask, should not have known.

"ANITA!"

"Ahhhhhhh.. . . CUMMING!"

If it was possible to cum while already seized by the most powerful orgasm of your life, Anita proved it so there and then. Her pussy again spasmed, her hips rolling back and forth, left and right as her whole body shuddered. Rhett too, found his zenith and released himself from the bonds of decency, his tip erupting with his seed he despised thick, white strands of it into his sister's cunt. Spurt after spurt met gush after obscene gush, potent to the point that the dye rendering his fur the jet black shade he had required was now running freely, exposing some of the white fur underneath. A white that perfectly matched that of the cat girl he was copulating with. Perfect and exact, to the very tone.

Not that either of them noticed.

A minute, then two passed as they rode out the tsunami of ecstasy, before a thoroughly spent brother removed his softening cock from a thoroughly spent and thoroughly satisfied sister. Rhett staggered back, doing his best to reattach his loincloth and replace the mask that had fallen askew during their wild fucking. Divine providence smiled upon him, and he was able to do so with a few scant seconds to spare before Anita's eyes peeled open, a broad smile beaming up at her "god."

"Did I do well? Did I please my god?"

Rhett let out a few pants, the physical exertion having taken its toll even on his fit and toned body.

"Yes," he said, attempting to regain some semblance of composure, "more than yes. You have been most excellent, little kitten."

"I'm glad, I hope I can become a devout follower. I have other ways in which I can worship. Maybe some more offerings for Anubis? I hope you're not planning on throwing that costume away when all this is over."

Rhett smiled back, though hidden as it were beneath his mask.

"If that's an offer," he said, "consider it accepted. I will come to find you again, little kitten. Wait for me. Think of me. Don't be afraid to play with yourself if you feel the urge.'

"Oh, I'm sure I will."

Anita stood up, affixing some of the wayward pieces of her own costume and smoothing out her thoroughly matted fur.

"I think," she continued, "we've gained a bit of an audience."

"Ha!" boasted Rhett, "let them see. Let them know what they missed out on."

"But," came her whispered reply, "they'll never really know, will they?"

"I. . . hmm? What?"

The small cat girl giggled, twirling about and once again taking on the personality of the aloof and wary Ankha.

"It's odd," she said, though unable to hide her smile, "this peasant god, he kinda. . . reminds me of my brother."