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--Orion--

Cute lad, sorry he had other things going on, oh well. I do actually hope I'll see him again sometime, but I can't be thinking about that right now, I need to be getting ready for the show. After the funicular I make my way to the west ingress and take the express lift up to the surface. Everyone always gives me looks coming off of it. Like what? Buff guys can't appreciate art? And make no mistake, I am an Adonis, have to keep it up to make the money 'cause the Institute doesn't pay enough. Yeah, I guess I could live in the dorms with the other gleaners but I much prefer my flat outside and the freedom it provides. Not like getting paid for thirsty young (and sometimes old) men to look at me is a hard gig either. Plus, the occasional free drink and other... fringe benefits. I'm happy, that's what matters.

It's not very far from the museum, and I rarely get recognised thanks to wearing my snapback low over my face always, always just about to break my disguise it seems, I wish Science made these more discreet. A few blocks south towards the Sondheim Theatre. The night is mild, traffic is okay, people are out leaving their businesses and probably going home. I do try and make a point to cross through the Soho Garden, feels important, almost ritualistic. Nothing much there, but for some reason it feels connected to me. Anyways, still a few blocks away, past the shoppes and theatres, and bars. I love this part of town, so full of energy if not a bit commercialised; a bit.... Dean, so a left, and a right on Compton, here we are: Stallion. It feels almost poetic given what I am that the underground gay bar go-go dancer job I landed would be at a place called Stallion. Well not that the sign actually says that, it's just a fancy looking horse, but those who know, know.

Anyways, I breeze past the bouncer, he knows me (intimately, he's a fun pastime; looks like a bull but acts like a pussycat) and slither through the main hall and into the backrooms. I think they're mostly reserved for drag performers to get ready but we only do those twice a week so it's anarchy otherwise. Or maybe this is just how performers live and I wouldn't know any better. Whatever, unimportant. What is important is I look amazing. Looking at myself in the mirror as I undress I wonder if I should maybe edit my disguise to be a little bit more tan. It matches me perfectly in physique: I'm a Greek god, everything in perfect proportion. Arms and shoulders like bosh! Thighs and calves like bosh! Shame that the only people who get to see the extra bits need to be mindwiped. The humans are such... accommodating lovers, but we can't risk them knowing about us so I need to use our interdiction protocol sometimes... okay often. What can I say? I have a healthy appetite. I make sure not to double dip, not sure how actually harmful the short-term memory erasure might be, but I'm sure it isn't great. More's the shame for them never remembering me I'm sure, or maybe the opposite, getting to witness me for the first time again.

Anyways, I've gotten distracted again in my own brain. Yes, everything looks amazing, zebra-striped thong (super on-point, by design), and my smooth muscles. The thong matches my short mohawk, again, by design. What's the fun in being a weird kind of secret agent if you don't leave clues? Again, I need to remind myself later to fix the projection to look like I've just come off a week from Spain, and I also need to try and fix that error where it doesn't know how to project a thong in relation to my tail. Considering I have to loop the fabric around, I can't imagine it would be difficult but I'm not a scientist. Fortunately, the guys like looking at the front so it rarely comes up.

"Mr. Hunter? You're on in ten on the main stage and then platform three after."

"Thanks cutie," I say, winking at the stagehand. It always makes him blush and I love it. He scurries away. Time enough for me to try and address the problem with the projection but honestly I think I'd need to take it up with the Science branch or something. Not like my tail is particularly big or anything, nor is it a real problem with the disguise, just it's one of those little errors that bothers you, right? I need to not think about it right now, no one will see it, right now I need to be the guy everyone wishes they could take home but can't actually touch. Half of that is easy. I make my way to the wings of the main stage, the deep bass almost shaking the floor. Yeah, not sure that song was your best choice, but what do I know? Mine also has deep bass but it doesn't stress the sound equipment to the point of a fucking fault line failure. My song more... reverberates out, tingling the senses. I give it some extra help, sure, but no one needs to know that. A little electrical field to stimulate the crowd, get everyone's shorthairs tingling. There's a reason I'm the most popular dancer here, and why I get the money I do.

"Ladies, gents, and our other friends! Welcome to the main stage one of Stallions' favourites, HUNTER!" Always sort of ironic. Zebras are prey animals, but this is my savannah and I'm the predator here... wait, not like that... exactly... I'm overthinking.

The light falls to pitch and I move to make my appearance as the bass and drums, the nonsense non-lyrics, the synths wind up and pop. First pose, always thighs splayed wide, hands behind my head as I weave the spell. It's super basic, doesn't really require more than thought but the focus allows me to make it dazzle on the drop: 2, 1, and presenting me, a small burst of lighting flashes over my head and quickly fizzles out into the room. Very basic magic, but it gets people tingling, and that's the point. I strut slowly up the stage, caressing my thighs, my chest, give a playful thrust or two at any particularly generous looking patrons. The music takes over, I just move, let it take me where it wants so long as where it wants are near the giving hands of the crowd. It gets a bit sketchy when they get a bit bold and start trying to pull things off, but I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself, strong like an ox. Well, not really an Ox, there are a few of them and I can't beat them in arm wrestling, but I'd bet on myself any day against humans.

Now my least favourite move, the one I'm always sure will snap my thong and somehow break my disguise wholesale: wide split. Slowly, slowly, still on beat.... And only slightly ball-crushing this time, so a good night I'd say with that. Never does my face show any of the internal panic: I can't afford it to. And now for problem part two, I have hooves so to get up from it I need to do a breakdance backspin and I'm always worried someone is going to be too close and get knocked in the head. Geronimo! Spin, kip-up, landed, flawless, pop the back, over the shoulder look, and walk away. One last little flash of electricity with my final pose. And the crowd is wild, probably frothing, as I walk off stage. Well done lad, another success, and now for the care: the "cage" dance.

Basically just gyrate in an area for a little bit until the next show, but still a good chance to collect tips. And sometimes someone cute catches my attention, and that's the most fun aspect. Looks like the night's already been good given the £10 and £20 notes I'm already seeing tucked in. Maybe another tingle is in order? Might stir things up. And either way I'm just incredibly bored stationed here at the edge, just a teaser. I'm a main course. So let's see, who's looking for one? And it's almost instant: cute boy, can't be more than 20, chestnut hair in a cute pushed back 'do, and no money that he's been paying to the dancers, so probably only here for drinks, maybe with friends, but that's fine.

The set ends and I leave the cage. Not usually encouraged for the dancers to exit onto the public floor but I know I'm not in any danger, and even if I were, I can handle it, and I can always pick up my clothes tomorrow. I sidle up to the bar next to the lad, he's alone so I don't feel like I'm interrupting anything.

"Hey Maurice, G&T," I ask of the bartender. We also have history, but it's mostly good. We're on friendly terms at least, and it gets him to go away for a little bit.

"Hey there handsome, how'd you enjoy the show?" He is immediately red, full bright, it's amazing the thoughts that someone with a body like mine can flood the brain with. "What are you drinking? Can I buy you another?"

"I... uh... hi! Erm... yeah, that'd be great." So cute when they're scared.

"And another for the gentleman." Maurice nods, from the far side of the bar, already mixing his drink; he knows me too well that one. "So is this your first time here? What brings you out tonight?"

"Ah! Erm... well it's my mate's stag do, it was his idea. Not really my sorta place... NOT THAT I DISAPPROVE! Just... erm, I'm feeling a bit... out of the joke." Maurice puts his drink down in front of him. He grasps at it nervously.

"I'm not one to judge, we all come from many walks of life. I'm sorry if I've made you feel stressed but perhaps I'm not the reason?" This poor lad has been left on his own and finally able to confront his own feelings, and with me at the helm: how unfortunate. With a breath I conjure sparks at my fingertips as I run my hand past his ear and to the back of his neck.

"So what do you want to do?" I can see the ripples of electricity travel down his spine, and the subsequent wave of heat rising from his body. He's in vino veritas enough to finally ask for what he wants. I order the Uber, and make sure with Maurice that he hasn't left anything behind. His mates are well into the next set, and it's a good one, Lawrence can get it! This poor lamb they left for me it seems.

And when we get to his door he is all over me, must be my musk. I try and divert his attention away from my face because if he disrupts my mask then we're going to have a problem. I can barely close the door behind me when he's grasping at my chest, caressing my abs, and daring himself to go lower. He's in his element now, best for me to let him explore, aside from kissing, not sure how that tracks mentally with the disguise but I don't imagine it'll end well even in this kind of state. I fall back onto his couch, and he's sniffing at my pecs while probing my thong because of course I didn't think far enough ahead to think this might be an actual problem.

"Careful, that might be too much for you," I whisper to him, but he can't hear me. I've allowed him to be lost in lust for the first time in his life, so that's on me. It seems he takes it as a dare, without releasing it, he pushes me down onto his (actually kinda nice) couch and straddles my laden lap. And then there's the problem. He grabs my face, assumedly to kiss me deeply, but in his fervour he dislodges my mask, my Zebra form flickering into view briefly as I reaffix it.

And now we have a problem. He hasn't really noticed, he's too drunk, but it can't be risked. I hunt around for my phone, I'm sure I had it when I came in, and I absolutely would go nowhere without it. There it is. I make a call.

"White Knight, I need an interdiction for one viewer in three seconds."

"Who are you talking to?" I hear from the poor lad as I cover my eyes and hold my phone screen to his eyes. The screen erupts in a precarious pulse of light designed to induce seizure to erase short term memory. It's not fun, but necessary. He'll be fine, he's in his own flat, he'll have a hangover and it'll be perfectly waved off by his mates I'm sure. Honestly he's still won the night having taken me home.

And here I am climbing into another Uber in basically just my pants. "To the Institute, please." It's not a far walk from there to get the rest of my clothes back, "unless you might have something else in mind...?" I've caught his eyes in the mirror....