Home Coming
~~~~~~~~~Chapter 1~~~~~~~~~
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. It includes references to long-term homosexual relationships, beastiality/zoophilia, and will explore the budding incestual romance and sexual relations between a male teenager and a younger female cub. If you find yourself offended by these things, consider this your one and only warning to look away now. If you are underage, must remind you that it is illegal for you to view this until you turn 18 or 21; depending on the laws of your local area. Additionally, as a work of fiction, it is not based on any real people, events or places.
Reproductive Rights: Now, I don't mean to sound greedy, but there are a few rules about reposting my work. You may repost this work wherever you please, so long as you adhere to the following guidelines. Do not attempt to claim this work as your own, in whole or part. Be certain to disclose that I am the author. Do not alter the story in any way, without my express permission. Finally, you may illustrate any characters or scenes as you wish, so long as you inform me of this intent and give me proper credit.
Author's Notes: I've always had a soft spot in my heart for incestual sibling couples. I don't know why, though I think it might have something to do with the nature of the relationship itself. It's the concept that true love can transcend all boundaries, be they boundaries of physical sex, age, species; and, as is most prudent to the following story, even blood relations. Maybe I'm just becoming less cynical over the years. Maybe I'm turning into a hopeless romantic. Maybe I'm just a very bad man trying to lie to himself through romanticism.
Either way, it's still hawt, ja? ~_^
*Session Begin: Saturday, June 14th, 2008 @ 13:30 PM*
[13:30 EST] QueerBat chitters: Hey, Kitten; you there?
[13:30 EST] tender_lion97 roars: When aren't I, fruitcake?
[13:31 EST] tender_lion97 roars: You know me better than that. XP
[13:33 EST] QueerBat chitters: Ah, yes. I forgot; you don't actually _have_ a life.
[13:33 EST] tender_lion97 roars: Hey, listen up.
[13:34 EST] tender_lion97 roars: You interrupted a good paw session, bat.
[13:34 EST] tender_lion97 roars: Get to the point, or else. ):3
[13:37 EST] QueerBat chitters: Or else what?
[13:37 EST] tender_lion97 roars: I'll come over there
[13:38 EST] tender_lion97 roars: Turn you over my knee
[13:38 EST] tender_lion97 roars: And rape you.
[13:38 EST] QueerBat chitters: But...I'd like that...Master... *winks*
[13:40 EST] tender_lion97 roars: D:( ...Yes.
[13:41 EST] tender_lion97 roars: I know you would.
[13:41 EST] QueerBat chitters: *giggles*
Jason's feline ears twitched, his great hearing zoning in on a clicking sound from the front door. His sister had come home, and he deduced from the scraping noises that something had seriously perturbed her. "Why would she be wandering around with her claws out like that," he whispered to himself. Tuning into his brotherly intuition, Jason decided that he would need to brush his pet off for the day. Swiveling his leather computer chair around to face the geeked-out terminal, the sandy lion let his eyes refocus on the screen as he typed out his goodbye.
[13:59 EST] tender_lion97 roars: Hey
[13:59 EST] tender_lion97 roars: I need to log off for now.
[14:01 EST] QueerBat chitters: Oh, what's this? My kitty has a life off of the internet now? How shocking.
[14:01 EST] tender_lion97 roars: I think something went wrong Rashla's "date".
[14:01 EST] QueerBat chitters: OOOOOOH... Good luck with that, Kitten. If it helps, give the little one a big ol' hug from me. ^_^b
[14:02 EST] tender_lion97 roars: Will do, love.
[14:02 EST] tender_lion97 roars: *kitty-kisses*
[14:02 EST] tender_lion97 roars: ttyl
*Session Ended: Saturday, June 14th, 2008 @ 14:02 PM*
Halfway across town, Alex sighed, leaning back in his high-backed felt chair and rubbed carefully at his eyes; he took great care to avoid sticking his claws into his eyes. "Well," he chittered brightly, "Looks like it's just you and yourself, old chap." The aging fruitbat stood up, brushed himself off, and quietly padded over to what Jason liked to call "The Gay Bar." Once he pushed past hanging clothes, his high-pitched chittering found the handle on the hidden door. A secret compartment opened when he pushed on it to reveal a small room, in which the walls were lined with boxes. Each cardboard or plastic container had a label on it; he passed up "Canid," "Ursine," and "Swine" to let his long fingers rest on the "Exotic" box. Grinning wildly, he pulled it out of the wooden shelves and carried it back to his bedroom, closing the secret door behind him. One way or another, he was going to get off tonight.
* * *
Rashla was already upstairs, waiting for Jason in his own room. The 17 year old lion had quickly gone to meet his little sister, 6 years his junior, before she'd even crossed the threshold into the house. It didn't take long to confirm his suspicions about her date, either; the steady flow of tears, accompanied by hushed, spine-racking sobs were hard to miss. His familial instincts had kicked in on sight, and he swept her up in his arms to take her to her bed. On the way there she'd asked him to take her to his room instead. Obliging, he didn't even think much about the request; she often went to his room, rather than her own, when she was upset. They'd always been very, very close, and being drowned in his scent helped her get through "the baddies". That's what she'd said to him, at least, a couple of years ago.
Now she was upstairs, probably buried under his faux-fur quilts, waiting for him to come up and let her share the pain. Jason was leaning on the counter, lost in thought as he waited for the kettle to scream. The whole situation was retarded, in his humble opinion. He'd held his reservations about Rashla dating at such a young age from the start, but he kept them to himself; he wasn't much older when he began his search for a mate, a year, maybe two. It wasn't even that he didn't think she was ready. Yes, she still possessed the hyperactivity and painfully blunt honesty of her peers, but she was still a fully functional person who could take care of herself when she needed to. It was that tiger she was dating that worried him.
Jason despised people who judged others without knowing them, but, in this case, he often found himself doing it too. The ass just looked like the next would-be rapist, as though he held a powerful aura that simply screamed, "Hey, lookit' me; I'm going to rape your women and children!" It was that air of male superiority that surrounded him like a black cloud, Jason decided. And he certainly played the part well, what, with him constantly spouting off just where he thought a woman's "place" was. Rashla was adamant that he loved her though, and would get very angry whenever Jason tried to get a word in else-wise.
Whatever it was that happened, Jason found his inner-self muttering, maybe now she'll listen to me.
The lion sighed, tousling his thick, red mane with a finger. Before all else, he was her loving brother; there wasn't a single part of his heart or mind that wished she had to learn lessons like this. As his over-zealous mind raced to think of all the things that the little shit could have done to the love of his life, searing heat rose up from his gut to spread throughout his body. A balled fist slammed down on the counter, but he didn't realize it until the sharp pain bit through his paw and he heard the ceramic surface crack. Jason sighed again, more audibly this time, and felt relief flood him as the kettle began screeching out for release from the heat. The sound was loud enough to pierce even the deepest of his thoughts, preventing his worries from eating him alive. For now.
About a minute or two later, he was halfway up the stairs, a tray with two wide cups on it in his paws when he his mind picked up on something his heart had covertly slipped into his thoughts. What had he called her? The love of his life...?
"Jason," he admonished himself sharply, "What the Hell is wrong with you? This is your sister you're talking about! You are over this!" Yet even as the words slipped from his feline muzzle, he knew they weren't true. Ever since he set eyes on her as a fresh kitten, back when he was a mere six-year old cub, he was instantly smitten with her. Rashla had just been so damned cute, rolling around and mewling all the time; how could anyone not love her?
But, he thought, in that way?
Well, sure, he didn't form any kind of romantic or sexual need for her until many years later, when she was six and he twelve, but it was the only logical next step. He'd even gone so far as to work up the courage to beg her to be his when he was confronted about two ugly truths about the world. First, that society looks down on lovers of the same family. Secondly, that the world would assume, because of the age gap, he had forced her into it; and then it would pick apart her brain and repress her into believing she'd been raped. Above all else, it was that last part that had stopped him. He would never give anyone a reason to hurt her in any way.
Closing his eyes, the lion's next breathe in sounded as a hiss. "Fine, maybe you haven't. But you can't do anything, and you know that. Especially not now. What kind of a brother would you be if you took advantage of her in a moment of weakness?" Some lustful part of his brain, buried under layers of subconscious, ethical concern and honor, managed to break the surface just long enough to answer the question.
A very satisfied brother.
Jason growled, his claws instinctively flexing in and out of his fingers to carve tiny etches in the tray. For the first time in his life, Jason thanked his parent's for being cheap; it was just plastic, and the damage was easily ignorable. He took a few moments to just stand in the stairway, lean against the wall, and collect his composure. He was not going to go in there and molest her. He was going to go in there, give her a cup of tea to calm down, and listen to her woes. Once certain he could control himself, he finished the walk up the stairs and to his room, knocking politely to make sure she was decent. Her beautiful voice seemed to cut through the door like it was nothing, and melted into his soul.
If the only thing she could ever do to him was talk, that'd be enough for him.
"Hold on!" There was a fair amount of rustling, before her song-y voice rang out again. "Okay, I'm under the covers." Jason took another deep breath, and balanced the tray in his left paw. His right encircled around the brass knob before him, and cracked the stained, oak door open. Poking his muzzle through the thin entrance, he made sure Rashla had finished covering herself before pushing the door all the way open and stepping into his room. As soon as he did, he was assaulted by the foreign scents covering her body. She'd been to the park, he realized, before coming home. And there was the salty aroma of fresh tears; like an ocean breeze spilling across his tiny feline nose. But something else slipped inside his powerful sniffer, something made of velvet and and cream; it was a thick undercurrent, vaguely familiar yet not something he could immediately identify.
Striding quickly over to the bed, he set the tray down on the edge and slid it closer to her. He reached out to grab his computer chair, pulling it up to the side of the bed and sinking down into it. A warm feeling flooded up from his heart as he watched her clutch the ceramic cup in her hands, eyes closed in bliss as she soaked the smell of the dark-brown liquid into her nose. It was the kind of feeling an athlete might get after winning the big game of his life; a surge of victory, knowing that it was his one, well-played trick that stuffed the cat in the bag, so to speak. Jason groaned internally at the unintended joke, so bad that it hurt him. He waited until she'd taken a few generous gulps of her favorite drink, before taking a careful sip of his and making the first move.
"So... How's about you tell your big brother what happened? I haven't seen you this upset since Pookie died." Mentioning her name, Jason felt a tiny bulge start forming in his pants. Pookie had been the family dog for years, even before he was born, and had quickly become his "bitch," though he hated using that term for its social connotations, once he'd started exploring his sexuality. Oh, the fun he'd had with that dog. But those were memories for when he was alone. The last thing his sister needed was for him to be lost in his own mind while she was looking for comfort.
Rashla pulled her tall ears back to her skull, snarling behind the cup in her paws. Her large, round eyes were unfocused, glassy and hazed over as she fought with herself to open up to him. "I...dunno'. Everythin' had been goin' so well... We went for a walk in the park, to listen to the birds sin'. Then I...felt somethin'." Jason tensed, starting to piece certain pieces of this soon-to-be-macabre puzzle together. His memory shot into overdrive, re-anylizing the mystery scent and concluding that his sister must be in her first heat. It didn't smell exactly like Pookie, but close enough to be recognizable. The older lion swore inwardly, realizing that the tiny strain in his jeans had been quickly growing more and more painful.
"What did you feel?"
The lioness scrunched up the angelic features of her face. Her bright green eyes were shut tight, and she buried her muzzle in the rusty fur of her paws. Even just dredging that recent memory back up was enough to make everything hurt all over again. A painful sob racked her little body repeatedly, rivers flowing from her eyes, until she felt a familiar warmth engulf her. Rashla clutched onto the furred arms that surrounded her tiny form desperately, almost as if she feared that the world would fall away if she let go.
Or that she'd fall away from the world.