FSE

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All characters depicted in this work of fiction are of legal age of consent.

I

Kitty nearly leapt out of her fur when the duffel slammed into the map-table in front of her. Young "Katrina" Curnow was right to be jumpy. The Timbavati region of South Africa was a dangerous place for anyone, no less a young mouse standing barely eighty-centimetres tall. There were of course the rest of the mice in the expedition, mostly hunters armed to the teeth with high-calibre hunting rifles, and of course the local mice acting as guides.

Among the mice, Kitty probably looked like she belonged the least in the expedition, despite her sophisticated garb. She didn't seem built for the outdoors, petite and lean, with perfectly permed brown fur and chestnut coloured hair. Her attire was quite librarian-like, a plain white shirt - a bad colour to wear on the savannah she was quickly beginning to find out - with a navy blue scarf and an ankle length brown skirt. She wore a pair of sturdy boots that rode up over her shins, and was groomed like royalty when compared to the man standing over her.

Having just dropped his bag on her table, scattering a few of her charts and upsetting piles of letters and journals, Jack Pryde looked positively proud of himself. Then again, Kitty was fairly sure he never wiped that cocky grin off his face.

A large grey furred rat with little highlights of dark brown in his fur, Jack had been specifically requested by the expedition's sponsor to join them. Kitty could see why in one way.

He was taller than even Timothy Whittaker, an experienced hunter and the expedition's leader. Standing a full metre in height, Jack was dressed quite simply like Kitty, a plain tan shirt, brown slacks and hiking boots. He had an olive-green scarf keeping the sun from spontaneously combusting the fur on his neck, and a series of leather straps holding what looked to be gun holsters, one under each arm. He was clearly a rough individual.

And in another way, Kitty wondered what the sponsor was thinking. Jack didn't seem like the smartest individual, and being a rat his schooling would probably be awful, if existent at all. Kitty would be surprised if he could read, most rats couldn't as far as she was aware.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," he said with a boyish grin and a wag of his eyebrows. His R-less drawl indicated he was London born and raised and held similarities to Kitty's own accent. Though with much less sophistication.

Kitty huffed. "The only thing that scares me, Mister Pryde, is your complete lack of manners."

She glanced with some dismay at the zeppelin which hovered low and lay moored at the edge of base camp. It had been several days flight to reach South Africa, meaning several days of cold and misery, made more so by the loud rat and the louder crew having their raucous card games in the cabin next to hers.

Thankfully though, her lack of concentration on her books hadn't led to a lack of sleep, and on the summer morning of 1926, their long-awaited arrival in Timbavati had energised Kitty with enough excitement that she was happily skipping about, sorting what gear she would take with her into the field.

She had already gathered two trunks worth of journals and was contemplating whether to keep a book by Charles Darwin or by Alfred Russel Wallace to hand in her satchel.

As Kitty was trying to get back to the important decision she was going to make, Jack unclipped the straps holding his own gear shut and unrolled his pack, the guns and magazines inside giving a heavy metallic clatter on the wood. Spread out in a plethora of pockets before him were lengths of bullets, metal stick-magazines among a large drum filled to the brim with more bullets, and a trio of armaments Kitty hardly found befitting a hunter, despite her limited experience on the matter.

Kitty was a naturalist. She studied and catalogued animals. She didn't kill them. That sort of work was reserved for the likes of Timothy Whittaker and his retinue of hunters.

"You do realise we are on a study expedition," she commented, eying the military weapon Jack hefted and then proceeded to load with a drum magazine. She wasn't going to claim to be an expert on the matter, but whatever the rat opened up on with that thing would likely be turned to paint. "We are not here to extinct the local fauna."

Resting the wooden stock of the weapon on the table, Jack made sure to check the weapon was functional then yanked the cocking lever. "Have you ever been in the Timbavati region before?" He didn't even wait for her to shake her head before he added, "And I bet you've never seen a white lion before. Nobody ever has. Which is why our generous sponsor sent me along on this expedition."

As he stowed his machine gun and set to loading the cylinders of his pistols, Kitty arched an eyebrow.

"And I suppose you have seen one before?" she asked disbelievingly with a snort.

The elusive albino predators were the sole reason for this expedition into the Timbavati region. They were following after another expedition sent into the area to investigate the long running rumours of white furred lion prides inhabiting South Africa. The scientific community frowned upon the prospect. Kitty was one of few scholars open to the concept, after white furred tigers in Siberia the idea of a mutation causing the same unusual pigment in African lion tribes wasn't all that farfetched.

That being said, evolutionary biologists argued that white lions couldn't possibly survive, natural selection being what it is. They'd fail to blend in with the environment, tipping off prey during the hunt.

"I have, as a matter of fact," Jack said, derailing her train of thought. "Nearly killed me the first time. That was maybe five years ago."

"So, you're like some sort of albino lion expert?"

He smiled despite her haughty demeanour. "I'm in acquisitions. My sponsor asks me to fetch, and I fetch. Be it a white lion, or be it survivors of his previous expedition from a month ago." He paused, then slid one of the pistols into a shoulder holster. "You're not so naïve that you think this is purely an expedition, right? We're the rescue mission for the mice sent ahead of us."

Kitty rolled her eyes. "This area is notoriously rough. The previous expedition probably got turned around or bogged down. They'll turn up fine; they always do."

Now it was Jack's turn to laugh as he fed bullets into the second pistol. "The last time I was here I was surrounded by maybe twenty lads all thinking the same. In fact, they thought so right up until we were jumped by a tribe of predators, who proceeded to tear us apart. Ever see a kid pull the legs off a daddy-long-legs? Well now imagine a large lion doing the same to a mouse."

Kitty's stomach turned as she was given the wholly unnecessary mental image. Jack continued, "Don't get me wrong, I think it's brave you coming out here, sating your curiosity. But this region is rife with predators, from lions to hyenas; bugger me, even the pigs out here are violent. It's no place for a bird, least of all a scholar who carries a book rather than a gun."

Kitty gaped with offence. "I'll have you know I can take care of myself."

Jack shrugged. "I'm just saying, luv. This isn't a place for a woman."

She gave another offended gasp, then a long fuming "ooooooh!" before turning about face and stomping off. She totally forgot her trunks with books and simply settled for what she had in her knapsack. She'd make do, so long as she didn't have to enter the proximity of that uncouth rat again!

Jack in the meantime frowned as he snapped shut a pistol and wondered what it was he'd said to annoy her.

The other mice in the expedition were gentry, unlike Jack and much of the labour crew. Everything from their attire to their equipment was built to the highest standard.

And standing head and shoulders above the rest was Timothy Whittaker, the man their sponsor was riding the success of the mission on. He had a pith helmet shading his eyes form the blistering sun and khaki coloured clothes, with a large hunting rifle resting over his shoulder.

The brown furred mouse's associates were similarly dressed and groomed. Jonathan Freeisles was checking the telescopic sight on a long-range rifle he carried, while Peter Decker absently combed his fingers through the magnificent white mutton chops bristling his face.

"Our mission, gentlemen and lady," Timothy added with a courteous bow for Kitty who returned the gesture. He then turned to the rest of the men gathered around and said, "Our task here is twofold. Several weeks ago our colleagues came to Timbavati searching for the elusive white lion tribe many scholars in the scientific community believe do not exist. Our sponsor, and our resident naturalist, believe otherwise. Now the previous expedition has gone missing, which is why we are here. We are to find the previous expedition, and at the same time nab ourselves one of these albino kitty-cats."

Kitty stood up on her tippy-toes and raised a hand, interjecting, "Alive, if at all possible."

"Of course," Timothy said with a nod. "Our local helpers are armed with a new form of potent aerosolised chloroform and tranquiliser guns. But do not be mistaken, the fabled white lions are a fierce tribe. They might be difficult to take down, so as a last resort I brought ol' Daisy here."

The gun he patted was an impressive piece of hardware. A single barrelled rifle with iron sights, the barrel had an enormous girth for firing enormous bullets that were bigger than Kitty's thumb. It was suitably hefty, and Timothy's matured frame seemed to sag a little under the weight of the thing.

Aside from the rifle's practical side, it was artistic at the same time. The wooden furnishings were intricately carved and finely finished with a nice stain, its name 'Daisy' lovingly engraved in the stock along with relief carved honeysuckle.

"How will we find these blighters?" Jonathan asked, doffing his scoped rifle.

"Ah, good question. Our sponsor saw fit to send us an acquisitions expert."

Before Timothy even gestured towards the rat, Kitty felt her eyes drawn sideways. Leaned against one of the Ford Model T convertibles they had offloaded from the zeppelin was Jack. He had a leather furnished hip flask in his hand and was taking a long swig when Timothy's mention of his profession made his eyes bug. Suppressing a cough, Jack lowered the flask for his lips and looked at the large group of mice now staring at him.

Gesturing in his direction, Timothy said, "Speaking of whom. What does an 'acquisitions expert' do exactly, Mister Pryde?"

Swallowing whatever alcoholic liquid was bulging his cheeks, Jack quickly screwed on the cap and said, "I'm good at finding things."

To Timothy's credit, he managed to hold on to his sophisticated smile. "How quaint. Questions, anyone?"

Nobody raised a hand. Not even the locals, fully aware of the dangers in the area. They were all being paid far too much to worry.

"Right then, lads," Timothy said with a nod. "Tally ho."

The mice of the expedition began loading into the custom commissioned convertibles their sponsor had provided for the mission. The bags and gear went in first, followed by people.

Jack made a point of holding out his hand to help Kitty into the second vehicle in the convoy, but she turned her nose up at him. Shutting the door behind her as she settled in, Jack nonchalantly gestured for them to roll out, then hopped into the next vehicle as it passed. With a grumble of thirsty petrol engines, the convoy set off into Timbavati.

Hours blurred by in mere moments. It was true, Kitty realised. Time did fly when you were having fun. The young woman was trying to take in everything at once. She looked in every direction, her eyes bright and inquisitively taking in the countryside. The fact the ride was bumpy and uncomfortable didn't bother her.

As a naturalist she'd always dreamt of getting out of the museum and seeing the areas she'd studied with her own eyes. And today, finally, all her dreams were coming true.

They were taking a break and Kitty was simultaneously trying to sketch in her notepad and write down her feelings all at once. She didn't even notice Jack move up to her side until he cleared his throat rather obnoxiously.

"What is it, Mister Pryde?" she asked impatiently.

His own tone was slow and monotonous, a forced calm. "Don't make any sudden movements."

Of course, Kitty jerked her head up from her notebook. "Why shouldn't I-... oh."

Standing out in the middle of the dirt track they were traversing through the dry, sun-beaten savannah was a gigantic figure. Nearly two metres in height, the athletic female form of the lioness, her fur a similar shade of yellow to the shimmering grass all around dwarfed even Jack.

The lioness was naked bar a loincloth dangling from a length of twine wrapped about her hips. Clutched in one hand was a long wooden spear topped with a crudely forged metal blade, and marking her fur were bright red cryptic tribal symbols. A black smear surrounded her fierce, predatory eyes as she watched the stunned and paling mice with a daggers glare.

Timothy slowly reached back for his rifle, but Jack held out a hand to stop him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, guv. We'd all be dead before you got a shot off."

"How do you figure?"

Jack just nodded at the grass surrounding them.

Materialising out of the shimmering air came more figures. Tall, powerful women covered in savannah coloured fur, bare breasted and naked bar loincloths, war paint and spears. In moments they had the convoy surrounded, standing firm and austere as they blocked all paths of escape.

Kitty gulped as the nearest lioness glared at her. She felt like the warrior woman was tearing her soul apart with just her piercing gaze. It was jarring, to see so much violence and death in the lioness' eyes. If she attacked now Kitty would be a red smear on the back seat of the car before she could even raise her hands to defend herself.

Slowly but firmly, Jack started walking towards the lioness in the middle of the road.

"What are you doing?" Kitty hissed, and she caught a glimmer of a smirk on Jack's face.

"Going for a wee chat."

Approaching the lead lioness, Jack kept his submachine gun ready, but pointed at the ground in a two-handed grip. The lioness' lips moved and a cryptic language rolled out of her tongue. It sounded like snarls and clicks of the tongue as far as Kitty could discern. But Jack, who listened patiently, responded in the same unusual language.

Their cryptic dialogue went back and forth for a solid minute. Then the lioness suddenly raised a claw - Jack tightened his gun against his shoulder and took a step back - and gestured off in the distance. Jack followed her gesture and scanned the horizon in the direction she pointed, hesitant to take his eyes off the woman Kitty noted.

The lionesses glanced among each other and for a few tense moments Kitty wondered what wold happen next. The giant watching her closely wrung the shaft of her spear for a moment before a growling snarl drew her attention.

The tribe leader waved her fellows off and they began backing up. As quickly as they had appeared the lionesses dropped to all fours and retreated into the grass. The lead lioness exchanged a few words with Jack, then vanished along with her sisters.

Looking in the way she had pointed, Jack eased his way back to the convoy but didn't seem to relax until he was within arm's reach of the lead vehicle.

"What on Earth was that all about?" Timothy demanded and Jack pointed off in the way the lioness had directed him.

"Those lionesses are of a local pride. We're in their territory, but I told them why we're here. They said to re-direct eastward. The white lions prefer thicker cover that grows there." Jack paused, seeming uncomfortable. "They wished us luck. The other lion prides fear the white ones. They call them... and I'm interpreting here... they call them 'evil spirits.' "

"How very comforting."

As they mounted up to get going again, Kitty wondered how fierce something must be to put fear in such a towering predator. And in comparison, Jack didn't seem to be showing any sort of fear. Not for the lions he'd just conversed with, not for the dangers that potentially awaited them deeper in Timbavati. He just stood steady and moved on. It was impressive.

Biting her bottom lip, Kitty quickly directed her gaze away from the rat and straightened in her seat a little. She fanned her face with one hand, feeling a hot flush redden her cheeks as her bare thighs began subconsciously rubbing against each other under her skirt.

Steady on, girl, she told her tingling nethers, reminding herself that she didn't like Jack. He was still the same uncouth rat who had offended her back at base camp. No need to get all hot and bothered just because he stood unwavering before a few untameable beasts.

Kitty glanced back in his direction and unbeknownst to even herself, had a secret little smile while her mind betrayed her with a flash of what it might be like if Jack tamed her.

II

That night they set up camp alongside the road. Tents were erected in the failing light of twilight, and before long, as darkness settled across Timbavati, campfires were lit and overlapping patrols were scheduled about the perimeter.

While some of the men drank after supper about some of the fires, Kitty retired to her tent early to get some reading done. Though with little avail.

Gripping her book in one slender hand, she tried pacing about the tent while reading, but the letters jumbled before her eyes and danced about the page. She couldn't focus, and before she knew it the letters on the page twisted into a writhing moaning orgy, the sight of it fanning the heat between the mouse's legs and causing her to pause with frustration.

Before long the thoughts of Jack bending her over and 'taming' her got so obnoxious, she pinched the bridge of her nose and gave up. "Get yourself together, girl. He's not that dashing," she muttered angrily at herself.

The entire time her mind wandered curiously in Jack's direction, wondering about the rat's past... among lewder things.

She nearly leapt out of her fur as a voice startled her.

"Miss Curnow, do you have everything you need?"

It was Jack. He was standing in the entrance to the tent, a bundle of blankets tucked under one arm. In his other hand was his flask, the cap flipped open.

Kitty went to answer, felt her voice break, so she cleared her throat and tried again. "Yes I should have everything. Thank you, Mister Pryde."

Jack nodded, then dropped the bundle of blankets at the foot of her bed. "I might be cold tonight. And I don't need all these."

Kitty snapped her book shut. "That's very kind of you." Her eyes followed his flask as he took a short sip.

Tipping her a nod, Jack was about to leave when Kitty's curiosity got the better of her. "How did you get here, Mister Pryde?"

Pausing, Jack contemplated the question. "Uh... by zeppelin, same as you."

She shot him an impatient look. "No, I mean how did you end up in good standing with a figure such as our sponsor? It's not often you see aristocracy mingle with... well... y'know."

"Rats?" Jack chuckled. "It's not a dirty word, you know. You can just say 'rat.' And I'll have you know, I've been in the sponsor's trusted employ for a long time," Jack explained. "I started off as an errand boy. I joined him several trophy hunts. The safari trackers taught me a thing or two. And then one time, couple of years ago, we were attacked by a tribe of white lions."

"Right. And I'm expected to believe you saw the white lions with your own eyes?"

Jack shrugged. "Don't know what I saw to be honest. All I know is I had to drag my employer out of the fight and carry him a few miles back to basecamp before he bled out."

He tipped up his drink and took a slightly longer sip, suppressing a cough as he swallowed.

Kitty's curiosity piqued again, and she grew a little bold. "Is that whiskey?" she asked. "Can I try? I've never tried whiskey before."

It was of course true. Drinking whiskey wasn't exactly a ladylike thing to do back home. And if Kitty weren't insatiably curious, she wouldn't be halfway across the world hunting gigantic predators.

As she was asking, she moved forward to take the flask, making Jack pull back just a little.

"Careful, miss. This isn't any old whiskey," he explained with a chuckle. "It's an Irish blend called Poitín."

Raising her eyebrows she set her hands on her hips impatiently. "And what is that then?"

"Well, it's got two uses. De-greasing farm machinery and getting well and truly lashed."

Kitty laughed haughtily, lunging forward and snatching the flask from Jack's hand. "Hah! If I can stomach a conversation with you, Mister Pryde, I'm sure I can stomach anything."

Then with Jack watching, a subtle expression of horror in his features, Kitty knocked back several large gulps from the flask.

Thankfully there was no screaming and wailing, as there usually was when one unenlightened individual though they were being tough by skulling an unhealthy dose of alcohol. But still, it did not take long before Kitty had collapsed on the bed beside Jack with her head rolling drunkenly on his shoulder.

Any dislike she had for him washed away by the Poitín, and in her inebriated state she seemed to lose all sense of inhibition.

Giggling and twirling to some of the songs being sung about the campfire somewhere on the other side of the camp, she'd been stumbling about her tent drunkenly while Jack watched with curiosity. It was a weird one-eighty of her personality, jumping from this prissy good girl with money to burn on a strange hobby, to a fun loving young woman living on the spur of the moment.

"What in the world are you doing here, miss?" Jack had finally blurted out as she collapsed onto the bed beside him.

"You can -hic- call me Kitty, Jack," she said with a boudoir smile and a little hiccup.

"Okay then, Kitty. What are you doing here? Most ladies like you prefer to find work a little closer to home, if they want to find work at all. Why travel to the most dangerous place on Earth?"

She harrumphed. "I'll have you know, Jack. I may -hic- not be a soldier, or a hunter, or even a dashing, handsome adventurer," - Jack raised an eyebrow at that - "but I am invaluable in the field." Smiling proudly, Kitty sat up straight and squared back her shoulders, indebtedly pressing out her breasts a little. Her shirt had fallen open a little and Jack was treated to a clearer view of the soft furry valley of her cleavage. "I... am a scientist!"

"Okay," Jack chuckled. "What science is that?"

"I specialise in a number of -hic- fields, Mister Pryde. But my favourite subject so far is sexual selection."

Jack blinked. "Is that right." It was more a statement than a question.

Kitty nodded cutely and shuffled closer. She had her hands on him, one on his arm the other touched his stomach before sliding sensually downward. Jack didn't stop her as she slid under his belt and fumbled about the waistband of his underwear.

"It's always fascinated me how females -hic- promote natural selection by selecting the stronger males of their species."

"And what if the male isn't their species?" Jack asked, clearly referring to their current situation. There was no holding back his erection as Kitty's slender hand delved into his shorts and found the hot shaft of rigid flesh inside.

She wrapped her digits about him with a surprised gasp, possibly impressed by his size, then smiled as she squeezed a little. "That's a phenomenon I'd like to study in intimate detail."

Jack eased forward a little, and kitty met him halfway for a kiss. It was a clumsy little thing, even as Jack turned to wrap one arm about her, his own hand sliding past the waistband of her skirt and knickers like her own hand was doing. As he did Kitty started moving her fingers up and down his shaft, stroking slowly but in an arousing way that made Jack twitch. It encouraged him forward as Kitty lay back, pulling Jack on top of her, still drunkenly and clumsily pressing into his kiss.

It didn't take long for him to find the swollen lips of her quim. She reacted to his discovery in an instant, and just as quickly, Jack's fingers were doused in an explosion of her arousal. Hot and sticky, her juices practically dripped from her slit to soak her panties.

She was gasping and panting for breath as he gently worked his finger up and down the slit, massaging the soft, velvety flesh within. In turn her own tugging motions slowed. Kitty's eyes rolled, her whole body distracted by Jack's motions, but he didn't seem to mind. She squeezed his rigid member lightly, making him tense for a moment, but it only encouraged him to press deeper.

His middle finger curled and dipped into her slippery tunnel. Kitty moaned and practically sucked him in. In one slick motion one finger, then two slid inside her, stretching her walls and exploring her depths. Kitty's free hand clutched at her sheets, bunching them beneath her as her hips bucked against his grip, her moans egging him on.

Jack didn't relent, pumping his fingers in and out of her tight snatch in earnest and without reprieve. Kitty kept her moans low and heavy, gasping hard with every breath and swallowing gulps of air before she drooled over her pillow. The fur on her inner thighs were matted with liquid gratification and the wet spot had spread onto the front of her skirt. Jack felt her clamp down on his fingers, but he didn't stop.

Kitty's life had turned into a blur of wet passion. The building pleasure in her hit flashpoint and she let it out in a small squeal, muffled against the palm of her hand as she threw her head back and lifted her bum off the camping bed. A climactic shiver ran up her legs, through her nethers and up across her sensitive nipples before settling behind her lips. Every inch of her body was alight with joy and she exploded all across Jack's fingers, soaking his hand in a torrent of her girl-cum.

When she finally relaxed she settled to the bed with a breathless moan and a drunk little smile before her eyes fell shut.

Jack bucked his hips a little, but suddenly felt her grip on his length weaken, and after a moment her hand slipped from his trousers.

"Kitty?" he asked, putting his face close to hers, but all he heard was the quiet breathing of a satisfied young woman in the depths of slumber.

With a sigh he slid his fingers from her pussy, Kitty shivering as the digits wetly popped from her collapsing walls. She moaned in her sleep, stirred then rolled on her side with a content little smile on her lips. Jack then pulled the covers over her and turned, bidding her goodnight with a kiss on the cheek before he shut the tent flap on his way out.

Hours crawled by at a snail's pace...

Kitty squinted, trying not to think about the pounding headache throbbing just behind her eyes. Her stomach felt like it had been twisted up in knots and the only thing keeping her from slipping into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness was a cool breeze rushing over the simmering savannah.

They were back in the cars after packing up camp and back on their monotonous journey, chugging east through the sweltering countryside chasing Jack Pryde's 'feeling' that they were closer.

They had stopped for the umpteenth time that day and Kitty was right on the verge of calling him out, publicly and loudly, for being full of faeces.

Kitty had to wonder at the same time if she was pissed off at Jack because he had let her drink the way she had last night, or if she was pissed off at the rough recollection of what had happened between them. There was a prickling of electricity between her thighs every time she thought of it and she had to bite her lip and resist the urge to let her fingers fly to her panties for want of a repeat performance.

All she remembered from last night was falling into his arms and then the most wonderful sensation blowing her mind. And beyond that, merely a frustrating blur that kept her right on that cusp of curiosity and desperation to know more.

Looking up from where he was crouched over the rough path ahead, Jack scanned the surrounding terrain. The area had grown rougher, rockier, more mountainous and somewhat wetter. There was more foliage, denser green to break up the monotony of burnt yellow savannah grass. Rivers, often no deeper than an inch crossed their path forcing them to slow down and rough it. And the jutting rocks and boulders forced them to waste time finding more even ground to traverse.

Standing and dusting off a knee, the rat tucked his weapon under one arm and walked the short distance back to the lead car. Kitty was riding in that one and turned her face away as he went to speak with Timothy sitting in the passenger seat beside her.

"This is where it happened," she heard him say. "This is where I saw the white lions five years ago. And the tracks are fresh too. A dozen mice came through here. Then nearly a dozen large felines jumped them. I see empty shells and patches of blood."

"So we're close?" Timothy said, hugging his rifle tighter and excitement edging his voice.

"Would seem so."

Had Kitty known that 'would seem so' translated into 'another eight hours travel' she would have shouted at Jack there and then. Unfortunately, it as well into the afternoon after they abandoned the noisy vehicles and hiked on foot into the rougher terrain before Kitty felt her ire raise again. She'd been excited as Timothy at the prospect of getting closer to their goal. But that excitement died after a gruelling hike into the tick terrain, stopping maybe every fifteen minutes for Jack to check for tracks and whisper to the wind a little - or whatever the hell it was he was actually doing.

With the sun dipping behind the horizon, Kitty finally stomped over to where Jack had stopped them yet again to put his hand on the ground. The rest of the group was idling about, taking on water or securing sectors. Many were peering through scopes or binoculars to make sure nothing was sneaking up on them through the tall grass.

"Mister Pryde," Kitty began, hardly able to keep the annoyance from her voice. "Why do I get the feeling you are not getting us any closer to..."

Her eyes widened as Jack suddenly straightened up and clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Listen." He paused, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air. "Do you smell that?"

Kitty narrowed her eyes and said something that was muffled by his palm. But as annoyed a she was, she still paused to smell. Pushing his hand away she sniffed the air and looked to the nearby treeline.

"I do smell something," she said, then nearly gagged. It was pungent like meat that had gone off.

It wasn't long before other mice in the group smelled it and poked their noses in the air. Waving them over, Jack gathered the group and they pushed towards the source of the smell. Some of the locals drew large blades and took off ahead, hacking away at the undergrowth to clear a path into the thick foliage. It was slow going, hard work in the sweltering heat that lingered even after the sun had set. Darkness set upon them under the canopy almost immediately and some had to light up torches so they wouldn't get turned around.

In two single files they delved into the jungle before hacking their way to a clearing that seemed trampled and well used. What awaited them was a scene directly out of a lurid penny dreadful.

There were mice, four or five of them hoisted up on effigies and attracting flies. Their exact number, impaled on the wooden pikes was impossible to tell by the additional bits and pieces Kitty only recognised from biology textbooks added to the brutal and bloody display. There may have been at least twelve mauled mice in the form of pieces, hollowed and hung out to drain as warning in this piece of abhorrent artistry.

Kitty didn't hold back. She doubled over and lost her evening meal to the nearest bush, her retching noises nearly drowned out by the hum of flies feasting on the rotten remains.

"Finally, something we agree on, miss," Jack commented, fixing is eyes on the effigy.

"What manner of unholy thing is this?" Timothy demanded in a low tone.

"A warning," one of the locals more fluent in the King's English said in a hushed whisper, his fingers touching the silver cross that dangled from his neck. "A warning from the evil spirits."

"An animal did this, no spirit," Jonathan argued.

Peter added with a morbid chuckle, "An animal with a flair for the artistic." He pointed out the arrangement of the parts. "This was done with careful organisation. It's a warning alright."

"We're in white lion territory," Jack clarified, then gestured everyone to keep their voices down.

Circling the effigies, he checked for tracks. But as he did, Kitty lifted her head, ears twitching.

"Does anyone else hear that?" she asked gently.

The others lifted their gazes and were about to ask when they too heard it. A faint thrum.

'Boom-boom-boom...'

Rhythmic drumming, heavy in bass but weakened by range. Their number divided again into three rows. Jack, Kitty and some locals took the left flank. A line of local marksmen snaked off to the right flank, while Timothy, Peter and Jonathan went straight down the middle.

Before long they reached a berm and crawled on hands and knees into cover before peering down into a natural gorge. What they saw was almost more off-putting than the gruesome effigy.

Some of the locals reeled. One, the one who'd touched his cross at the effigy, touched the holy symbol again and let out a muffled cry into the palm of his hand. Thankfully the noise was deadened by the mad cacophony of the orgy below.

Settled along the flowing water of where a stream formed a muddy and stinking plunge pool in the grotto was a village of mud huts with straw rooftops. The whole affair was primitive as was to be expected of these primitive beasts.

Leaping about within this hidden village surrounded by more bloody effigies, these made up with the pieces of local prey the lionesses hunted, was an almost indescribably horde of humanoid abnormality. Devoid of clothing the stark white lions were a writhing orgy of activity. Their powerful bodies were covered in sleek white fur and their eyes were vicious red, seemingly glowing in the torches that flickered all about the village.

Jack counted maybe twenty lionesses, and about four lions, large rippling hulks with fleecy manes. The oldest of them sat on a throne forged out of the bones of those the white lions had slain. Skulls of other lions, predators and prey animals were easy to distinguish.

They were celebrating something, what though even Kitty could not discern. But hey were partying in ways like even the most uncouth bottom feeders in civilised society wouldn't dare. Long tables of raw meats lay open to be feasted upon. Two of the males bent lionesses over the food and slid into them, vigorously taking the women hard and fast before shoving them aside and having their fill of another passing female.

The larger male, no doubt the chief of the pride, was slouched back in his throne, a set of identical young lioness twins on their knees and servicing him with their mouths. The sisters kissed deeply, their tongues dancing across the lion's member between them. The chief shuddered with pleasure, patting one gently on the head and purring with approval. The girls then alternated, one lapping at his balls while the other throated his length and then vice versa. No millimetre of his thick, throbbing red rod was left unloved, glistening in the firelight with saliva from the attentive sisters.

The final male had a savannah coloured lioness slammed against a totem to which she had her wrists bound above her head. His claws were digging into the regular coloured lioness's thighs, keeping her legs apart and wrapped about his waist as he thrust into her repeatedly. Her breast swung with every violent thrust, and her eyes were rolled into the back of her head with perverted enjoyment. Her mouth hung open slightly, a line of drool running over her chin and mingling with the strings of dried cum crusting her fur, evidence she'd been getting fucked silly like this for at least a few days. No doubt she'd been captured from a rival tribe and was being kept around as entertainment for some of the younger males.

"Fascinating," Kitty whispered, her eyes widening with interest.

"Not the word I would have used," Jack mused, his gaze lingering on the feast the white lions had cooked up. Like the effigy, the various body parts and organs of mice were recognisable as bits left over from the previous expedition. This was clearly not a rescue mission anymore.

A few moments later, Jack glanced sideways to do a headcount. "Hey, what happened to the three stooges?"

As he was saying it he looked down into the gorge and spotted movement. Having descended the gorge wall and taking cover in rocks and brush on the far end of the shallow stream close to the lions, Jack jaw the bobbing pith helmet that belonged to Timothy. They were all three experienced hunters and were moving stealthily. But in their excitement, they hadn't accounted for the light breeze whistling through the gorge, putting them downwind to the lions.

A switch was thrown in the predators. One moment they were going about their business, fucking and feasting like there was no tomorrow. Then in the next instance they were at arms, snatching up spears and clubs, lifting their heads and sniffing at the air that was rife with a mixture of blood, sex and most importantly, the scent of fresh prey.

"That can't be good." Even as Jack muttered it, shit began sliding sideways. The lions turned and began rushing in the direction of the trio. "Light 'em up!"

As he shouted he shoved Kitty down into cover then vaulted over the edge of the berm. A thunderous rattle of gunfire rang out, raining a hail of bullets and tranquiliser darts down on the lions. The marksmen barely had an opportunity to select their targets, all they could do was fire down the line and hope the guys with bullets weren't targeting the same lions as those guys who were firing tranquilisers.

Jack threw mad shade as he slid down the gorge wall after Timothy and his retinue. His submachine gun roared right the way down, spitting sustained bursts into one of the nearby males rushing undergrowth where Timothy reloaded his single-barrel weapon. 'Daisy' had just taken an arm of a nearby lioness, running the stream red with blood before the hunter vaulted out of cover and pressed through the crimson water.

"Target the larger males and the younger females with tranquilisers!" he yelled up at the marksmen on the ridge, desperately trying to be heard over the ruckus of gunfire. "Don't shoot so indiscriminately-..."

He half turned as a large lion, the male who had been keeping their savannah lioness company earlier, sloshed through the bloody stream towards him. His rifle came up but he hesitated a second, hand twitching towards the chloroform bottle on his belt.

A moment later a hail of bullets lit the lion up. Red stains rippled across his stark white fur before the male faltered then splashed face down in the water. Timothy turned shocked to Jack who waded closer, the barrel of his Thompson still smoking.

"Mister Pryde, that would have made a good specimen!"

"Find someone who cares. Get your arse out of there!" Jack yelled back at the big-game hunter before swivelling.

As he doubled back up the bank of the stream a figure dashed closer, surrounded by a halo of glistening red splatters as she bounded forward. From her feet up to her calves was immediately stained red as a lioness leapt towards Jack, murderous intent burning in her eyes.

She was bare like the other lions, her maturity having filled out her bountiful, luscious curves. Her large breasts were swinging almost hypnotically as she loped forward, roaring furiously.

"Whoa!" Jack shouted pulling the trigger on his machine gun, but the weapon only clicked obnoxiously. Whether he suffered a misfeed or whether he was out of bullets, there was no time to tell.

Dropping on his back, he kicked his way backwards through the muck while drawing both pistols and pointing them at the charging lioness. "Whoa!"

Timothy was screaming at him not to shoot, trying to direct the marksmen with tranquilisers to take the creature down. Jack was yelling back about being ready to take the shot. His fingers tightened on the triggers as the lioness loomed over him, claws extended for killing and teeth bared...

A dark brown bottle flew through the air and smashed across the lioness head. Shards of glass rained down around her as the chloroform inside clung to her fur and misted into her mouth and nostrils. The predator coughed and swayed, breathing deeply of the strong noxious vapours before her eyes rolled and she collapsed to the ground at Jack's feet.

Staring with wide eyes, Jack looked up to see Kitty had descended into the gorge and was standing with a second chloroform bottle, ready to throw in case the lioness got back up. She didn't, and the other white lions were quickly subdued.

As silence fell over the gorge, he river ran thick with blood, several bodies laying strewn in the village and the water. The lioness tied to the totem had caught several stray bullets and hung limply. Peter, likewise nursed a large gash across his arm, but frankly the village chief had come close to tearing him in half, so he counted himself lucky.

They walked away with five lions tranquilised in total. Two males, the pride chief in their number with three females, the twin sisters included.

It was a miracle none of the mice had suffered casualties, and with a breath of relief, Jack collapsed to the ground and muttered at the dark sky: "I'm not paid nearly enough for this."

III

They made it back to base camp with their cargo in good time. The zeppelin's moorings were cut by sunset and as the first stars were beginning to show in the African sky, the expedition was well on its way home.

Over the hum of the turboprop engines that sped the rigid craft northbound, Jack wandered the corridors of the zeppelin alone. He was in deep thought, running over the events in the white lion village in his head. He'd almost bought it, and frankly if he lingered on all the times he'd nearly punched out he'd be at it for years. But this time was different. He'd grown used to overcoming disaster after disaster solo.

This had been the first time he'd been saved by another. Maybe that spoke of the company he usually kept. Or maybe it said something about his ego.

Pausing, Jack realised he'd been pacing up and down, passing an open door at least three times along the way. Standing in the quarters looking at him was Kitty, a book gripped in one hand and one eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

"Mister Pryde, can I help you with something?" she asked.

Jack swallowed, then looked up and down the corridor to make sure nobody was overhearing. "I, uh..." He hesitated a moment then stepped into her room, gently swinging the door shut behind him. "I wanted to say something."

"A thank you for the rescue, no doubt," Kitty said haughtily.

"That, yeah. And I have to confess. I thought you'd be a burden on the expedition. I misjudged you. So... I'm sorry."

He shrugged during a pregnant pause, then quickly added, "And thanks for the rescue."

A small smile crossed Kitty's lips. "Well, I might have misjudged you too."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "I originally thought you were a brash, uncouth and rowdy gutter-dweller without the slightest hint of manners."

"What changed?"

"Nothing. I just started to realise it's a massive turn-on."

She didn't give any other sort of warning. Rushing forward she wrapped her arms about Jack and pressed her body on his. He felt her breasts squish against his toned chest, hardened slightly by the lining in her bra, but were pleasantly large and soft regardless. Her lips were warm on his as the mouse girl tilted her head and kissed him deeply, her tongue invading his mouth and taking him by surprise for a moment. But before long he pressed back into the kiss, letting his hands roam over her petite body.

Kitty inhaled sharply through her nose and moaned as one of his hands squeezed the tight globes of her ass, but she didn't stop him. Instead, she let him push her back until they crashed into the bookshelf, knocking over some of her tomes and instantly making a mess of what she'd worked hard to organise. But kitty didn't care. She immediately twisted in his grip, unzipping the waistband of her skirt and letting it pool on the ground beneath them.

At the same time she pulled down her knickers, hanging them hastily about her knees a she bent over slightly, grinding her bare ass on the growing bulge in Jack's pants. She was still in her calf high boots and shirt, but the part that mattered most was undressed. Jack yanked loose his belt while Kitty blindly stumbled over unzipping his pants.

Before long the length of pink rat cock came out of the cloth prison and delved between the gloriously soft cheeks of her ass for a moment as they ground against each other.

There was clearly only one thing she was after, parting her feet slightly and standing on the tips of her toes like a ballerina. At the same time she wrapped her slender digits about his rigid shaft and directed the crown down to her eager opening. His hands on her hips for stability, Jack eased forward until he felt the hot bead of moisture waiting at her quivering opening. It was slippery and eager, even as he crashed into a wall, and had to ease back just a little before pressing forward again.

This time Kitty's eager mouth of arousal opened and her body yielded to him as he slid the length into her, inch by wonderful inch until he bottomed out into her hot, tight pussy. There were a few millimetres left that didn't fit as his head kissed her cervix ever so gently, drawing a long shuddering "ooooooohh~!' from the mouse. Even Jack was in heaven, his cock twitching, eager to erupt in her there and then.

"Don't come yet," Kitty breathed with an eager giggle.

Jack had no intention of finishing so quickly and wrapped his arms about her. As he did, Kitty squealed with a mixture of surprise and delight as she was lifted off the ground, leaving her legs dangling an inch off the ground, impaled and held up in Jack's firm grip.

Holding her in place he started to roll his hips, his length sliding in and out of her tight snatch. He fucked her in earnest from the get go, holding little back, ramming his full length right against her core with every thrust. And every time his head kissed her cervix, Kitty would let out a high-pitched cry, all the while mewling with erotic approval. A small waterfall of desire matted the fur on her inner thigh and trickled down across Jack's balls.

At the same time Kitty's legs twitched and kicked feverishly. Her nails were set into the bookshelf which she clung on to desperately, her fervent moans drowning out the wet slaps of the cock sliding in an out of her stretched cleft.

Jack managed to balance holding her up in one arm while his opposite hand explored her body. A small explosion of lights shot across her vision as she felt him pinch one of her nipples through her bra, then glide down across her flat tummy, and finally settling his middle finger between her legs, a cavity already so full. She wondered what was going to happen next, innocent to all the possibilities but yearning to find out never the less.

Then he touched her clit, tenderly at first, and then traced wet little circles about the hard nub of aroused flesh. Kitty nearly screamed at the top of her lungs as her legs kicked helplessly at the air.

"I'm cumming," she cried, desperately trying to make her voice as small as possible, but failing in that respect. "I'm cumming~!"

Everything Kitty was holding back, and it was very little to say the least, suddenly gushed forth, cracking what remained of her ladylike demeanour. A torrent of hot girl-cum washed down across Jack's balls as Kitty squirted on his cock. Her hips bucked back and forth as a full body tremor made its way up her legs, up her spine and down to the tips of her curled fingers.

"Kitty, I'm going to..." Jack started to say, and he felt her walls squeeze, milking him in response.

"Inside me!" Kitty whispered harshly. "Cum inside me. Fill me up!"

He didn't need any more incentive than that really and swelled as he slid up in her as far as he could go. Again, he touched her cervix and erupted, shooting a hot torrent of cum up into the mouse, painting the walls of her womb.

Kitty was speechless, breathless and thoughtless. Her mouth hung open, eyes rolled back as she savoured the feeling of being filled to the brim with rope after rope of warm, sticky seed. The torrent didn't seem to end and before long slivers of the sticky white cream were leaking between her stretched lips, bubbling down the length of Jack's shaft that didn't fit inside the woman.

Jack twitched a few more times then relaxed, gently setting down Kitty, but holding on tight as he felt her legs buckle weakly under her own weight.

Breathlessly, Kitty turned her head, and with one hand reaching back to touch his furry cheek she kissed Jack deeply. They stayed like that for a long time before finally Jack pulled back to break the kiss and threw a smirk at the bed.

"Do you think you have the energy to go again?"

Kitty was about to tease that perhaps he was perhaps the one wouldn't be able to go, but suddenly felt his girth swell inside her again before his cock, softening until that point, went fully rigid. Gasping as her walls were stretched out again, Kitty shuddered and nodded. It was all she could do to prevent herself from whipping around and begging him to fuck her again.

"Did you hear that?" Peter asked, his ears standing a little more rigidly.

"What?" Jonathan asked without looking up from what he was doing.

"Sounded like a wolf's howl."

"Don't be stupid, mate. Only predators on board are these sluts."

Standing and dusting his hands, Jonathan admired his handiwork proudly. Timothy, who had been overseeing, now satisfied it was safe to do so, doffed 'Daisy' the hunting rifle and set her against a nearby wall.

Just down the corridor from the kitchens situated in the mid-ship, the three hunters were working in the transport pens reserved for the task of housing their 'guests.'

The females were strewn on the floor, while the males were on their feet, wrists bound in iron above their heads.

With the three mice working together it hadn't taken too much effort to get the lions stowed in their custom restraints. The lionesses were groggy still, and with a mixture of leashes and muzzles the hunters were able to lash the older woman to the deck, bending her over a stout easel with her hands and feet bound and a ring-gag filling her mouth, keeping her jaw from shutting fully.

As the lioness lay in a daze, long heavy breaths drawn in and out of her open mouth, the mice had set to work on the twins. They were a little more awkward as they roused a little, and it took some wrestling. But before long the identical sisters were laying on their side, bound together in a way that squashed their breasts together. While Timothy and Peter forced their mouths on one another, Jonathan improvised a muzzle to keep them bound that way, getting an arousing little whimper from the young lionesses.

Peter sniggered as he tugged at the leather belts and ropes to make sure they were totally secure. The sisters looked irresistible, the way their legs wrapped about each other and their swollen, wet pussies were pushing to one another made his dick nearly spring out of his pants.

That being said, Peter sidled up behind the more mature lioness and leaned forward a little, sinking his fingers into the soft flesh as he groped her unabashed. A small growl came from her, making Timothy chuckle. He was already undoing his pants as he walked up to her.

"That's no way to behave, slag." He pulled out his full erection as he said it. He was by no means even as close to capable of offering what the towering lions could, but Timothy was proud of how very long his member was. He'd certainly heard no complaints from the ladies in all his years.

Sidling up to the mature lioness, Timothy roughly grabbed her by the ears, dragged her face up to his crotch and with one slick motion slid his dick past her wet lips, across her hot, rough tongue and into the back of her throat. The lioness' eyes widened for a second as she gagged, momentarily winded. A few reflexive tears rolled down her cheeks until Timothy pulled back and she gasped for breath. Even so, he only gave her a moment then roughly thrust forward again with a pleased groan, the tip of his cock disappearing down the tight confines of her throat again.

Peter in the meantime had dropped his pants as well and ran his fingers across the lioness' labia. The way she was bent over, cheeks spread he had perfect access. Without waiting he pressed his fingers between the soft lips and into the velvety flesh within. The lioness would have cried out at the sudden penetration of three fingers were it not for the dick in her throat, and Peter pumped a few times before he withdrew his hand, digits glistening with the thick slippery juices.

She may have been squirming uncomfortably, but she was used to the rough handling from the lions in her pride. She seemed to enjoy it even.

Snickering, Peter wrapped his slippery digits about his shaft and worked her arousal into the thin probe of pink flesh like a salve before pressing it between her soft and warm bum cheeks. His target wasn't that juicy, ready pussy that seemed to be quivering with desire for a cock to fill it. He had his eye solely on the winking ring of dark flesh just under the lioness' tail.

Pressing the tip to her anus, Peter clenched as she did. Timothy drew back long enough for a surprised whimper to escape the lioness' throat before Peter forced his way into the depths previously unexplored by any cock. He stretched out the virgin walls of her anal cavity in one slow motion until he was about halfway in, then paused and pulled back.

With just the tip inside being massaged by her tight confines, Peter dipped his fingers in her snatch again and rubbed a fresh torrent of her juices across his cock again. This time he delved in and went all the way until he hilted into her depths. It was so tight and hot he nearly erupted into her belly there and then.

While Peter was pacing himself, and Timothy was already fucking the lioness' throat in earnest, the lions chained to the walls tugged at their restraints and roared with ferocity as the unworthy prey took their women like cheap whores. Timothy looked up with a smug smile.

"That's right, you uncouth beast. I'm fucking your woman's mouth. And I'm going to drown her in my cum, you useless animal." He laughed, reaching over and grabbing a whip off one of the racks. As he rocked back and forth, relentlessly pounding the lioness face through the ring-gag, he lashed the whip across the lions one at a time.

The beasts roared in pain as long red marks were drawn across their stomachs and loins with each off handed, almost casual lashing. He looked them directly in the eye as Peter and he spit-roasted the busty lioness. The usually powerful and domineering warrior woman pulled weakly at her bonds as she was helplessly fucked from both angles. Her eyes rolled as her lungs ached for air between Timothy's rough bouts, and there was a tingling in her loins she'd never felt before as the long thin cock ripping in and out of her ass pressed against a sensitive muscle cluster in her pelvic floor.

The lioness gushed, her whole body shaking violently as she climaxed, a thick hot torrent soaking Peter's legs, making him laugh and double his efforts. "Fuckin' whore is loving it."

As all this was going on, Jonathan wasn't sitting idly by. He'd fallen to his knees and slid his erection between the two young lioness' yearning pussies. They were pressed together just perfectly that his cock spread their labia apart and he massaged his length between the moist, velvety flesh of their openings. The feeling was utterly divine and Jonathan felt his orgasm rapidly rising to the surface as his hips took on a life of their own.

His cock milled wetly across the sisters' clits, making them moan into their perpetual kiss as their hips bucked feebly against one another. It only served to tighten the crevasse Jonathan was fucking, and with one hand planted on a sister's ass, the other groping the opposite twin's breast, the mouse cock between them swelled before erupting violently.

A torrent of cum spurted up between their flat tummies and into their cleavage. Torrent after torrent soaked their fur before Jonathan chose one of the girls at random, eased back then slammed his length into her pussy. She screamed into her sister's mouth, eyes wide and rolling into the back of her head as Jonathan gave her two hard thrusts and pumped a few torrents of cum into her womb - the other sister snarled jealously.

Peter and Timothy weren't far behind and came at the same time. Peter dug his nails into the gorgeous wide hips of the lioness whose thickness dwarfed his own. He hilted inside her and put several long sticky torrents of cum into her gut, shuddering as her muscles rippled to milk every last drop from him.

The lioness' tongue involuntarily did the same on Timothy as he jammed his crown into her throat and came down her gullet. The spurts that she did not swallow pooled in her mouth, and with a cough several strings burst from her nostrils and lips as she choked and gagged on the load.

As the mice were coming down from the heights of dizzying climax, none of them noted how the chains holding the chief were groaning. The entire time his women were getting raped, the lion was pulling at his binds. His muscles flexed then bulged one more time, and the squeal of metal was suddenly punctuated with a snap.

Timothy's eyes widened as he saw the chains holding the lion in place break and he reached back for his rifle... only to realise it was across the room.

The lion back-handed Timothy to the ground, his limp cock sliding from the lioness' cum-glazed tongue and letting the bubbling white fluids drool down her chin. At the same time the lion chief grabbed Peter by the neck. He didn't have time to make a sound, and with a sickening snap his head was dislocated from his neck, the mouse going limp in an instant.

Jonathan leapt back from the sisters but the lion was already on him. Despite the small mouse's struggles, the lion managed to lock his jaws about Jonathan's head.

Hanging there, his feet dangling from the ground, Jonathan let out a hair raising wail that was familiar to Timothy. The first time he had shot an animal he'd missed the mark, wounding the creature just enough that it realised it was going to die. He'd never forget the scream.

Jonathan's cry was just as sickening until the lion tightened his jaw and the interlocking teeth in his maw broke his head with a slow, wet crack, turning the scream to a whimpering gurgle. And then silence.

The lion paused over him, betraying Timothy into thinking he might be spared. Then the lion took to the mouse like a fat kid to a screaming hamburger...

Jack bounded into action from the moment the first screams rang through the halls of the zeppelin. The general alarm was raised by the time he came out of Kitty's quarters, his Thompson M1921 cleaned, loaded with a stick mag and cradled against his shoulder. He stepped into the hall aiming the weapon one way, then dipped the barrel to turn and sweep the opposite way.

Satisfied it was clear he reached back and took Kitty by the hand before they took off towards the front of the craft.

"What are we doing, Jack?" Kitty asked, still breathless from what they had been doing moments ago and now winded by a short sprint.

"We'll get to the bridge first. It's the most secure part of the zeppelin," Jack explained as they reached the heavy bulkhead door. Throwing his shoulder against the obstacle he twisted the lock and heaved the door open. "We can figure out what to do from th-... whoa!"

As he threw the door open, Jack had to duck as the uniformed body of a mouse whistled past his ear and slammed into the wall beside him, leaving a nasty crimson smear.

The rest of the bridge was a similar mess of death and destruction. Bodies of the bridge crew, crudely bisected by tooth and claw, lay strewn about the slippery deck. And in the midst of it, taking a swipe at the rest of the crew who divided their attention between taking pistol shots and keeping the zeppelin in the air, was the young white lion male they had captured. His fur and mane were stained with blood, particularly about the claws and maw. There were several bullet holes weeping crimson, but the lion seemed to regard them as no more bothersome than mosquito bites at the moment.

A mighty swipe caught one mouse in the torso and the broad claw pinned him into a nearby flight console. He let out a terrifying scream as the lion's free hand caught him by the legs and tore the mouse in two with nearly no effort at all. The lower half was flung one way, knocking over the deck's captain as he fumbled to reload his pistol, the upper half still screaming landed at Jack's feet.

Pushing abject horror to the back of his mind, Jack strafed the lion with a sustained burst. He set his weapon to full automatic and darted to one side as he fired. Thirty rounds passed into the roaring lion's body in less than a few seconds and he turned to lunge at new, more dangerous prey. Jack set firmly in his sights, the white lion bounded forward, leaping clean over the helm towards him.

Jack in the meantime dropped his Thompson and leapt backwards over a console. He landed on his back, sliding across the surface of radar control as his pistols came out of their holsters and he fired even as he tumbled over the far side.

Bullets went into the lion, square in the face and blood came out. One of the rounds passed into the left eye socket, bursting the soft orb of tissue as the lion collided with the console, teeth interlocking just an inch from Jack's leg where he landed. The lion wheezed as Jack pumped the remainder of his ammo into his face, and slowly, each snap of the jaws getting weaker, the predator finally slumped forward and dangled loosely over the console like a rug hung out to dry.

Dropping his pistols - useless now he'd expended all the ammo on his person - Jack found his feet and saw Kitty pick through the gore towards him. She looked a little pale and her eyes were wide with fear, but she was holding together well enough.

"How could this have happened?" she asked. "The lions were secured!"

"Doesn't matter!" the captain said, taking to the helm and directing the remainder of the crew to their blood soaked stations. "We have to deal with this problem. Jack, I hope you have more ammo where that came from."

"Down in the hold," Jack started to say, but Kitty cut across him.

"No, we can't just kill them! We have to get the lions back to London alive. If we don't then everything we worked for, all the bloodshed, it would have been for nothing."

"How do you suggest we capture them then? We don't have any tranquiliser rifles on board," the captain demanded.

"We have stores of chloroform to keep them drugged," Kitty said. "We lure them into a part of the zeppelin we can seal them in. A few hits of chloroform should put them to sleep again. We can use the kitchen. It's just down the hall from the pens where the chloroform is stored."

"That's a big should," the captain said, and Kitty desperately turned to Jack.

"Jack. For all we know these are the last of the white lions. We have to try."

Jack's stare was cold and hard for a moment. He seemed thoughtful, the same expression Kitty had seen on him when he'd been tracking the lions back in Africa.

Eventually he nodded. "It's worth a shot."

The captain scoffed. "You two are bloody insane."

Ignoring him, Jack took Kitty by the hand and indicated the way to the kitchens. "The trick will be getting them in the kitchen. I might have an idea for that though."

"What are you thinking?" Kitty's ears stood a little more rigid with piqued interest.

Jack grinned. "Live bait."

The lions weren't hard to find. Jack just had to follow the wet slurping noises.

Leaning about the corner, Jack peered into the rec-room there the twin sisters were lounging on the carpeted floor. Among the bloodstains, with more dark red staining their stark white fur, the sisters coddled against each other and watched with a mixture of fascination and jealousy. Pressing further, the rat saw exactly what they were looking at.

The mature lioness they had caught was pressed up against the wall, one leg lifted up to her side and supported by the chief's claw. With ease the male thrust forward into her sodden pussy from behind, sliding up into her again and again with the vigour of a man possessed. The lioness shook with every wet slurp, her teeth bared but eyes shut blissfully as she rocked against the chief's heavy pounding motions.

A trickle of cum and female juices dangled from her stuffed opening, indicating the chieftain had ejaculated at least once, but was intent to keep going.

The things were insatiable. Far from home, alone and stained in the blood of their victims they still fucked like there was no tomorrow. Mind you, that probably was the thinking. They were making do in case there was no tomorrow.

Pursing his lips, Jack whistled. The sharp noise caught their attention in an instant. Without moving the three lionesses jerked their heads about, fierce red eyes lingering on the rat interrupting their entertainment.

The lion in the meantime stepped back, his cock glistening with a mixture of fluids slipping from the older lioness with a loud slurp.

"That's right, wankers!" Jack sang with a confident grin, goading them with a little wave. "Come and have a go if you think your hard enough!"

He immediately turned and bolted. There was no need to look back and see if the lions were following, he could hear them lope forward with long, heavy strides, their bare footpaws striking the deck hard enough to make the plates rattle in place.

Turning a corner, Jack sighted the kitchens and sprinted. The kitchens were at a mid-point in the zeppelin, one door leading out to the recreation area and the personal quarters, and the other end leading into the rear end where the pens and cargo sat. The idea was for Jack to run out the far end and slam the door on them before Kitty shut the entrance behind the lions, effectively sealing them in.

It was a good plan, and went off without a hitch up to the point of Jack breezing through the kitchens and stopping only to slam the far door shut behind him.

Shoving his weight against the door, Jack closed the bulkhead and twisted the lock just as the lions slammed into the metal with a clang. Smirking he looked through the circular porthole as on the opposite side of the chamber, Kitty dove out of hiding.

She yanked the opposite door shut with both arms as she made her exit, to seal the lions in the kitchen...

Unfortunately the chief was faster. As the door slammed shut, he grabbed the handle and tore it open again, sending Kitty tumbling into the midst of the lions. If they had any intention to eat her, she'd be dead already. Instead the chief grabbed hold of her and slammed her down on the nearest countertop. The lion snorted hotly, sniffing at the squirming mouse girl, each deep breath of her feminine musk making another inch of his cock slide from his sheath.

Before long the rigid member was draped across Kitty's stomach, her legs forced apart by his large hands. The cock was about as thick as her barrel, and surely long enough that it could force its way all the way up her body and into the back of her throat.

With wide eyed terror, Kitty could only feebly fight against the lion's iron grip as he rolled his hips back and forth, rubbing his length across the entirety of her body with a depraved smile. The lionesses just watched eagerly, particularly the sisters eyed the glob of precum oozing from the lion's tip hungrily.

Jumping back from the porthole, Jack's mind raced. He had to do something, but how was he going to take out four towering lions without so much as a pointed stick? His eyes fell on the pens and he ran over, stopping in the doorway.

True to her word, Jack found the chloroform Kitty had been talking about, stacked in crates along the far end of the room. Among that though he found the bloodied remains of Timothy, Peter and Jonathan. Their bodies and clothing shredded, it was a miracle he recognised them at all.

Pausing before picking between the remains, he rushed to the chloroform store and grabbed a pair of bottles. He had to be quick and double timed it back. As he was running back though, he noted something useful standing against the far wall.

The lion chief huffed as he dragged his shaft back and rubbed the barbed tip against the soft cleft behind Kitty's panties. She tried to kick but the lion's grip was unbreakable. He pushed a little, leaving a little warm wet spot on the fabric and Kitty gasped with pain as the narrow tip found her opening, but failed to press deeper.

Sensing the resistance in her chief's path, the mature lioness moved forward and tore Kitty's panties aside, revealing the tight little cleft that had been stretched about Jack's girth a little while ago, and the lion male licked his lips in anticipation of tearing this tight little mouse in two.

He started to pitch forward, but before the crown even touched kitty he was interrupted by a loud bang of metal.

He stopped short to look at the bulkhead that swung open with a crash, and standing in the doorway was Jack, catching their attention with a short whistle. In his arms was 'Daisy,' the ornate hunting rifle shouldered as he brought the barrel up and sighted he lion male.

The weapon let out a mighty roar that left a ringing in his ears, and a solid kick that nearly dislocated his shoulder, but Jack managed to catch himself on a backwards stumble. The smoke cleared and his vision resolved on the stump that remained on the lion's shoulders.

The lion's neck ended in a knot of blood and fur as the colossal muscular body of the albino predator teetered back away from Kitty, the rest of his head painting the ceiling and far wall of the kitchen. It looked like the cooks had attempted to make tomato soup but resorted to flinging the pan about the place in a fit of rage.

The lionesses wailed with grief instead of charging Jack, or even paying Kitty any mind as she rolled off the counter and ran to the rat. The giant women dropped to their knees around the twitching body of their tribe chief. It was now or never.

Taking a bottle each, Jack and Kitty threw the chloroform in, smashing the bottles on the floor nearby. The liquid aerosolised instantly into wisps of white vapour that snaked in through the mouths and nostrils of the lioness trio while Jack and Kitty backed out.

The sisters were affected instantly, swaying drowsily and draping themselves over the still form of their beloved chief. The older snapped her fierce gaze about and locked eyes with the rat and mouse, letting out a fierce snarl. She didn't lope after them however, and gracefully sat on her hip beside the other lionesses.

Jack slammed the door shut and locked it. A few seconds later, the older lioness crumpled unconscious next to her kin.

The atmosphere about the southeast London docks was radically different from South Africa. Though familiar to him, the contrast still made Jack's head spin. He'd only just gotten used to the blazing equatorial sunshine. Now he was under a grim, grey sky with an opaque fog closing in over the bay waters.

The zeppelin had taken the party and their volatile cargo as far as Paris, from where they chartered trucks and ferries across the channel back to good old Britain. Now the sponsor's employees were dragging the drowsy lionesses Jack had insisted on keeping drugged for the remainder of the journey down the freighter gangplanks on trolleys, before lashing them to the flat beds of canvas trucks. Work lights kept the area well enough illuminated as Jack kept his freshly reloaded Thompson to hand and beyond the glaring lights he knew several snipers with high calibre hunting rifles were standing by.

As if just to spite the paranoid increase to security, the process of transferring the lionesses into the care of the expedition sponsor went off without a hitch. Before long Jack and Kitty were watching as other mice double checked the binds on the predators then closed up the truck hatches. Behind them the ship's crew got ready for the next job, one that was undoubtedly and probably to the relief of the crew, much less dangerous.

As Kitty took Jack's arm affectionally, she felt his whole-body twitch as there was a rather loud 'bang.' She felt, with a sense of feminine pride, Jack tensing to usher her behind him protectively as his keen eyes scanned the docks for the source of the noise. Aside from his protectiveness of her being misplaced, Kitty still smiled. His concern for her well-being, even after danger had passed made her feel even more wanted. There was something satisfying about that, and to some degree Kitty suddenly realised why some of her girlfriends made such a song-and-dance about dressing up and looking nice for their husbands.

The noise had come from one of the trucks' doors slamming shut. The occupant hobbled out of the shadows on a cane and the sight of him was the only thing that could have torn Kitty from Jack's arm.

"Uncle Henk," she called, rushing forward and embracing the older mouse who appeared.

Henk Curnow, the expedition sponsor, laughed as he met his niece with a hug. The greying mouse was in his middle-years, but walked with an elderly limp, supported by his ornate ivory cane. His expensive clothes offset a set of horrific scars running down one side of his face, neck and as far as Jack knew, the rest of his body down to the thigh. Angry red lines broke up his fur where he'd been mauled nearly to death if not for Jack's efforts nearly five years ago - the scars were rather grizzly reminders of his first encounter with the white lions of Timbavati.

"It's good to see you, my dear," Henk crooned, squeezing the girl's shoulder before turning to Jack, beaming even brighter. "And you! Dear boy, you've done it." He grabbed Jack by the hand and shook vigorously before turning to the truck the lionesses were loaded in.

"We finally have proof of what happened to us that day, five years ago. These magnificent creatures will show the world there's more to predators than we originally thought."

"What will happen to these creatures, Uncle Henk?" Kitty asked.

"First things first, we must get them to the care facility I've set up," the older mouse explained. "Not to worry, I have it all in hand. Then there will be a press conference, a scientific inquiry. We must of course know the reasons for this fur bleaching the lions underwent. What is the cause, etcetera." He nodded proudly. "Today is a wonderful day for science. And it doesn't stop here. I'm sure to get donations from all over for future expeditions soon."

"I'm glad to hear it, sir." Jack smiled, then grunted lightly with a sigh as he handed over his Thomson to one of the mice acting as convoy escort. "But, with your permission, I'd like to get a little rest before the next adventure."

Henk chuckled and clapped Jack on the shoulder. "Of course! Of course! You two get your rest. I'll take things from here."

He said his goodbyes, and Jack watched hand-in-hand with Kitty as Henk returned to the lead truck loaded with the lionesses. Turning, the duo walked slowly down the docks towards the inner city where their respective homes and beds awaited. Though both were pondering whose bed was closer and figured that would do.

"So, now what?" Jack asked suggestively.

Looking over, Kitty she spotted a bar still open despite the late hour. It seemed like a quiet place, sailors minding their own business as they drowned their sorrows. Eagerly she tugged at his hand, pulling the rat closer.

"You could start by buying me a drink?"

Recalling what happened last time Kitty drank alcohol, Jack smiled and followed her lead.

Epilogue

Climbing into the lead truck, Henk sighed with the effort then reached over and pulled the door shut with a slam. The driver, a young lad in common clothes, raggedy when compared to Henk, lifted the brim of his flat cap a little.

"Take these straight to the auction house, guv?" he asked, prodding a thumb over his shoulder. "The slave trainers can be ready in a few hours."

"No need. After all the expenses of two expeditions, I can afford their care a few weeks. No, let's head home first, have ourselves a little sample of these beasts."

The driver tipped his head then started the engine, making the cabin rumble with activity.

"The only question left is..."

Henk smiled to himself as he turned in his seat, gazing through the compartment window at the three gorgeous bodies lashed down to the flat-bed. His cock twitched in his britches as a plethora of lewd ideas span about in his head.

"... which do I break first?"

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