“Scott, come here.”

Scott built up friction on the carpet to backpedal his chair. Before his cubicle desk got out of reach, he grabbed the travel mug, coffee black enough to pit wood. Dealing with Grant required drinking so he didn’t talk much. Grant tended to bring out the sarcastic in him, then again Grant was an eight point seven-five on the asshole scale and more than deserving of a verbal take down. They were at work, however, and Human Resources frowned on such detailed and robust vocabulary.

“Check out the new thing.” Grant leaned up against the opening to Scott’s dwelling box and jabbed his finger in the direction of the cubicle recently vacated.

Scott’s hands wavered but his mouth refused to take in coffee before a minimum of one retort. “That isn’t a thing, Grant. It’s a person.” He managed to think the last part perhaps it’s hard for your calcified brain to discern the difference.

“Nah, thing is a better word. Check it out.” Grant folded his arms and stood with legs wide apart blocking Scott’s exit.

Scott craned his neck to look at the new hire unpacking a small bag of personal items. “I fail to see anything unusual about a woman putting personal items on her desk.” Scott had his hand on the doorframe to push back to the desk when Grant’s hand clasped his wrist.

“Ain’t a woman; it’s a guy. Look at him. Has to be.”

Scott looked down at his new wrist accessory. “Let go. Now.”

“Whatever man.” Grant flipped him the middle finger and pointed at the new guy with it.

“So what, so it’s a guy. My mistake. Can I go back to proofing the schematics?” Scott considered loosening the lid to his mug and dousing Grant’s back, but he needed the caffeine.

“Name’s Jean Brennan. What kind of name is that?” Grant turned to slap Scott on the back. “Come on, you wouldn’t name your child that, would you?”

“Being that my last name isn’t Brennan, no I wouldn’t. And Jean is a neutral name used for women and men. Did you want the etymology breakdown of it? I can look it up.” Before Scott looked at the schematics, he was considering filing a report with HR on Grant. It wouldn’t do any good, but paper trails were paper trails. Could help prevent that jerk from getting promoted if nothing else, and piss HR off. That was an added benefit.

“It’s a trap name. No way of knowing if it’s male or female.” Grant spit into Scott’s waste paper basket.

Scott designed welts in his palm with fingernails. Time for a new trash can. “So you don’t know Jean is a man. You’re guessing.” Scott tossed his travel mug in the can. Black coffee on a stomach after talking with Grant would form an ulcer and he was pretty sure Grant’s spit had ricocheted and splashed the mug. No way in hell he was drinking from it.

“Looks like a man to me.” Grant guffawed loud enough for Jean to jump across the walkway.

“Shut up man. You’re being a jerk.” Scott had a two minute limit to being near Grant before his censors went off work mode. “So he’s a man. Who the hell cares? You planning on raping him or something?”

Grant punched the wall of Scot’s cubicle hard enough for Scott’s pictures to fall off their hooks and clatter to the carpet and desk. “If we weren’t at work man, I’d do that to your face.”

“Charming.” Scott got up to retrieve his fallen belongings and give his hands something to do besides dismantling Grant. Oh, HR was going to hear about this.

“Doesn’t it bother you that it could be a man or woman? Come on, that’s gross. You got to know what a person is.” Grant kicked the wheels of Scott’s chair, sending it into Scott’s heels.

“No I don’t. Person is good looking either way.” Scott knew he was baiting Grant, but at this point it was fodder for the HR report. Maybe he finally could get the asshole brought up on charges that hadn’t stuck with the last employee, the one that left due to an ‘unfavorable work environment’.

“You’re seriously messed up man. Don’t tell me you go both ways.” Grant backed up and wiped his palms on his jeans.

Scott stepped into his doorway. “You’re the one that said it, not me.” He watched as Grant got a grey-green sheen to his face and walked backwards down the passage to his desk, keeping Scott in view until the last moment when he darted inside.

Well, Scott wasn’t going to have to worry about Grant talking to him anymore, only pushing him down stairs or throwing chairs at his back. He placed his chair in front of the desk to bring up an HR report form, but the sound of Jean setting up his or her area seemed awfully loud in the fairly empty office. There was no way Jean hadn’t heard Grant’s boisterous condemnation.

Grunting, Scott scooted backwards again and looked out his door towards Jean and found himself being watched. Shit. Leveraging palms against knees to stand up, Scott walked over to Jean’s cubicle.

“Sorry about that.” Scott shuffled his feet and looked down at a stain in the carpet.

“Are you taking responsibility for the asshole?” Jean leaned up against the back of the chair.

“No, only my part in not breaking a few of his teeth.” Scott tried to look at Jean’s walls but kept tracking past Jean’s face.

“So do I weird you out?” Jean leaned back to turn on the monitor then gave Scott full attention.

Definitely female, Scott was pretty sure, but Jean’s pants were baggy and provide no clues. He would bet female, for the moment.

“You seem to like looking at my pants. Are you looking for something?” She stretched and tugged at her waist band.

Scott’s head bobbed up and his cheeks reddened. “Uh, sorry no just um looking to see if they replaced the carpet in here. The last person was a pig.

“You seem to employ a lot of pigs here.” She snapped her fingers, getting Scott’s attention back to her face.

“So you sure I don’t bother you, not in the slightest?” She gnawed on a fingernail and watched him.

Scott tried to focus on the nail chewing which was the safest place for his eyes. “I’m not an ass like Grant. That’s his job here.”

“Prove it.” Jean finished feeding off her nail and raised an eyebrow.

“How?” Scott decided definitely female. Males didn’t chew nails. Well he did, but that was because he had bad cuticles.

“Meet me after work for a drink.” Jean spun the chair around to sit down and looked up.

Scott turned to see if Grant or anyone else was standing there.

“There’s a bar on 6th and 23rd, 5:30.” Jean rotated to face the computer and brought up the intranet browser.

“I’ll have to get back to you on that. I have schematics to sign off on before tomorrow.” Scott pranced from foot to foot, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she lifted a hand to wave him off.

Scott walked back sideways to his cubicle. Shit.


“Didn’t think you were coming.” Jean rested an elbow on the bar counter and placed her cocked head on her palm.

Scott was about to say he’d gotten caught up in work, but knew that wouldn’t go over well. “I was trying to come up with an excuse to bow out but couldn’t figure on a plausible one.”

Jean nodded and pursed her lips. “Well you get points for honesty. Oh and Grant isn’t here so you shouldn’t suffer hazing on my part.” She chuckled and motioned the bar tender. “My friend will have what you have on tap.”

Scott side stepped onto the stool next to her. “You ordering for me?”

“Be careful you might lose points for being thick.” She took the glass from the bar tender and placed in front of Scott.

“Isn’t that a bit rude?” He eyed the drink before taking a sip.

“Why? Men do it all the time to women or friends.” Jean took a big swig of the beer.

“Oh, sorry.” Scott loudly placed his mug on the counter and stilled it with a finger.

“Oh, nothing. I want to keep you guessing. What do you have me pegged as so far, female or male?” Jean turned so she was staring at the side of Scott’s face.

Scott cleared his throat. “I was leaning towards female.”

“You know there is only one way to be sure.” Jean made a spiral pattern on the counter, moving closer towards the water stain where Scott’s mug had been.

Choking on his last swallow, Scott spluttered.

“How curious are you?” Jean wrinkled her nose and took his mug, prying it away from his fingers to place it out of his spilling reach.

“It’s not why I came here.” Scott wiped his lips on the sleeve of his polo shirt.

“Plans change and I chose this place because I live upstairs.” Jean slipped off the stool and offered Scott a hand. When he didn’t take it, she reached past his shoulders for his wrist and pulled him along with her until he had to stand on his feet or drop to the floor.

“This isn’t going to happen.” Scott teetered, but found his footing as Jean kept hold of his wrist and walked to the exit door.

“Maybe in your oxygen deprived brain it isn’t, and yet here I am steering you outside and you aren’t stopping me.”

Scott fumbled with his lips. “Whatever you are, you are seriously messed up.

Jean pushed open the door and veered to a door next to the bar’s that required a key to unlock. “I’m taller and heavier than your lanky self, but I’m not feeling even the slightest tug from you. Am I that overpowering, or do you want to see what I look like with my pants down so you can tell everyone back at work?”

The door closed on Scott’s shirt, and he had to tear himself free before Jean dislocated his wrist by walking up a flight of stairs to the second floor.

“What’s the rush?” He jogged up behind her.

“What’s all the yapping? Maybe I made a mistake in choosing you. You seem weak of spirit for a guy who wants to mate. You really wouldn’t survive an hour.” She let go of him to jiggle a different key into the door at the top of the landing.

“Survive where?” Scott considered dashing back down, but she was so close his knees shook.

Moving inside, Jean waited until he crossed the threshold and let the door swing shut, clicking with the automatic lock. “The savanna of course.”

Jean twirled on Scott, ramming fists into his biceps and slamming him into the door. “So my place, my rules. otherwise your question never gets answered.

His head smarted from where it had rammed into the door, but before he could stumble over a response, Jean grabbed the collar of his shirt and walked backwards, bringing him along.

“Look,” Scott stammered.

“No, I think it’s time for you to look. Nothing turns me on more than fear.” Jean let go of Scott’s shirt and grabbed his chin with one hand and scruff of his neck with the other. “Show time, but I want to see what you have first. See how much I’m going to want you.”

Jean head butted Scott in the sternum and released her hold, sending him plummeting to the floor, ass first. Pouncing, Jean landed perfectly on all fours, pinning Scott to the ground. A swift bite of Jean’s teeth popped open the snap holding Scott’s jeans closed.

Sitting back on heels and Scott’s ankles, Jean slipped fingers into Scott’s boxers’ waistband and pulled jeans and underwear down to his knees.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott tried to sit up, but Jean had his cock and balls cupped and wasn’t letting go.

“That question is a bit premature. You haven’t seen anything yet. You might want to wash off that pissed face and put on your scared one.” Jean’s sentence came out blurred between the words.

Scott’s nose began to itch as if a cat had sprayed hair all over his body with a quick shake of its body. His eyes watered and nose swelled, coughs bouncing around his throat until he wanted to sit up and gasp for air, but Jean was on top of him.

Blinking his eyes to clear them, he searched his arms to see if sunburn blisters were erupting over his skin. The air around him wavered, heat rising to the ceiling, drawing perspiration to drench his skin.

An eerie Devilish laugh pierced through the blood knocking against his eardrums and made him want to join a monastery or swear off sexual relations for the rest of his life. He forced his eyes to focus on Jean, but it wasn’t Jean he saw anymore. The person, thing, on him was far larger than Jean had been, and the wheat colored hair Jean wore short cropped was turning darker tan with black spots and covering all the area Scott was sure once had clothes. Shock prevented a scream from issuing from his lip. Instead, the scream lodged in the back of his throat and prohibited swallowing by anything but brute force and gargling.

Scott wracked his brain. The beer had been on tap and Jean hadn’t had time to slip anything into it. And being drugged was the best scenario he had that would ever let him sleep again.

“I told you to be scared.” The words cackled out of Jean’s lips.

The sound scratched against Scott’s ears, neck trying to disappear into shoulders. “What…are you?”

“Don’t fail at science; that would disappointment me. What do I look like?” Jean arched back and laughed at the ceiling.

“A hyena.” Scott’s stomach caved into the floor, his hips attempted to burrow through the carpet.

“Good boy.” Jean lay down on Scott’s torso and placed a paw on either side of his face. A tongue came out to taste the sweat on Scott’s brow.

“No, you don’t exist. You slipped something into my drink.” Date rape, please be date rape.

“Why must you be so blind?” Jean scratched a cheek against Scott’s nose. “Does your body really think that?”

Scott sneezed.

“Bodies don’t lie, just brains.” Jean licked each of their lips. “I don’t want you for your brain though.” Jean flexed at the pelvis to rub Scott’s cock and balls.

“Don’t.” He clenched his thighs.

“Don’t or no?” Jean pressed down, ironing out the wrinkles in his balls. “If you watch nature programs you should know what I am by now. Females choose the mates and are bigger, but if you want I come with my own built in dildo. I can still fuck you up the ass so you don’t have to watch. Which is it? Are you going to eat carpet literally or metaphorically?”

Scott tried to wedge his hand between them to protect his cock and balls, but she growled and opened her mouth to show how long her hyena teeth were.

“You’re getting bigger yourself. I can almost feel you inside me. So you better tell me which you want before I take you any which way I choose.” She bent her face to his throat and sniffed.

Scott gawked at her, his lips parted but only formed air bubbles.

“You’re out of time. On your back it is. I get quite feral when I testing mate potential so I suggest you don’t move. Wouldn’t want Grant asking about marks on you. He’s someone you feed to the lions to protect the real meat.”

Scott whimpered.

Jean grabbed a fist of hair from the top of Scott’s head. “I love it when they whimper, turns me on.” She rose up and hit Scott in the balls to get his cock to jolt upright. Her fingers closed around the base and kept him angled for entry.

Bucking, she slipped herself down over his shaft and pummeled his balls into submission. The hand that had been guiding his cock came out and clawed at Scott’s cheek as she began pumping up and down on him, her knees in a vise grip lock on either side of his legs.

Scott’s moan morphed into a growl as her fingers took off the top layer of his skin. His cock ignored the neck flesh and swelled up inside her, pulling at the slippery sides of her odd shaped canal so her angle of attack bashed his balls into flat cakes.

Jean forced his cock to follow the unusual path, rotating her hips to get him to the spot that made her scream at the ceiling.

Her contours pulled and shaped the tip of his cock and spine of his cock in unbearable ways, but she wasn’t letting up. He wanted to scream in pain and bellow in agony as more blood flowed in to engorge him and lock him inside her until she let him release.

Her panting made his tongue swell and come out of his mouth. She bit the tip of his tongue and dragged it into her mouth to suck on as she spasmed up and down, taking his cock with her until she either had to let up or remove the cock from Scott’s body.

Scott screamed which made her go faster and more furiously. He could feel himself coming to the point of explosion but the pain was building too. He spit out a growl even though she had his tongue and she slowed down which was all it took for him to erupt in hopes she would let his cock go in one piece.

Jean became a blur of fur and cackled howls. Her body jolted in all directions, limbs flailing before flopping down on him to lick his nose. She clambered off him and barked. “Leave. I’ll tell you tomorrow if I need you this weekend once I compare you to my others.”

 Scott rolled onto his side and crawled away from her. When he got to the door he lurched upright and struggled with his boxers and jeans to get them up. With one hand he held his pants closed, the other hand twisted the door handle so he could flee.

~ by amberrosethompson on June 1, 2012.

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