FSE

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Author's Note -- This is being posted as the second chapter, because it was written second, even though it's a prequel to the first "chapter". I hope that you enjoy it! Comments welcome!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Biker Mice from Mars. Just borrowing them for some non-profit, good dirty fun! :)

Throttle's Night Out

Throttle climbed off his bike and adjusted himself in his leather jockstrap. He generally liked the hum of his bike against his...package, but when he was in his clubwear, sometimes it got a bit much. He didn't like to be too "fluffed" when he went inside; he got enough attention as it was.

The Martian Mouse made sure that everything was locked up on his bike and that no one was going to be able to run off with it while he was inside, and then he headed down the alley to a side entrance to the club. Like a good percentage of Martians, he was bi, but tonight he was in the mood for seeing hot male flesh, so he was heading for "Whiskey and the Lash", one of Chicago's finest gay leather-bars-slash-skin joints.

The bouncer nodded as Throttle arrived, even holding the door open for him. He had been here before, and the club appreciated its quasi-famous patron enough to respect his privacy. He was fairly certain that his bros didn't know where he disappeared to late at night. Not that he was ashamed of who he was or the fact that he liked males as well as females. He just wasn't sure how much of the Earthlings'...taboos his bros had absorbed in there time here on the planet. He loved Chicago like a second home, but gods, could the Earthlings be uptight about their bodies and anything having to do with sex!

Modo he wasn't really worried about. The big grey mouse seemed so solid and secure in who he was, and in his relationship with his bros. Modo would stick by him even if he told him that he fucked hollowed out melons warmed in the microwave. (He had gotten a good chuckle when he came across that suggestion on an Internet porn site describing male masturbation techniques.) But how Vincent would react...

That was the thing. Vinnie... The reason why he was out clubbing on Halloween night instead of spending time with his bros. He had known he had been attracted to the sexy white mouse even back on Mars. But it had only been after Vinnie and Charley had hooked up that Throttle had realized how serious his feelings were for the sexy motormouth. After it seemed to be too late for him to do anything about it. No way that he was going to muscle in on Vincent and Charley-girl's happiness.

And happy they were. The thin walls of the garage made sure that Throttle knew that. *Very* often. Rather than torture himself seeing Vincent in whatever costume Charley had gotten him - and Charley did love Vinnie's body, and loved it when the white mouse showed it off; Throttle couldn't deny her good taste - here he was, about to slip into a table in the unlit corner of a bar, and if he was lucky, catch a nice bit of P and A.

"Sorry, sir." Throttle blinked as he edged past the bouncer. "The boss wanted me to make sure you knew if you came tonight. We're pretty crowded, and we can't promise you your usual table. I know you like to be...discrete, so I thought I'd give you a heads up."

Throttle blinked, and then realized that the noise he had been hearing for the past little bit wasn't just from the cars with the jacked up bass whizzing past, but also from inside the club. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all...

"If you're worried about...your appearance, sir. Don't be. Tonight's Halloween after all. Most of our guests are in costume, and I doubt you'll stick out."

Throttle frowned. But the bouncer was probably right. He could vaguely see some fantastic shapes even from where he stood now. And he definitely needed to blow off some steam. "Thanks for the warning, bud." The mouse slipped the man a bill and went into the club.

The music that had been slightly muffled in the alley was throbbing inside the club. And the bouncer had been right. It was packed. A number of guys were on the dance floor, thrashing around to the techno mix on at the moment, strobing colored lights flashing off some pretty wild costumes. There were a number of the stereotypical leathergear biker sorts - a stereotype Throttle would fit into, except that he actually *was* a biker, not a 'weekend warrior' like he suspected most of the guys here were. A couple of guys in drag; not his thing, but hey, whatever sparked your plug. There were the standard Halloween monster costumes too - a whole gaggle of vampires, some of whom seemed to be vampires *and* drag queens; a few monsters, even more garish in the club lights; and there was even one guy dressed as a very poorly wrapped mummy, though Throttle did have to admit that the guy had the body to get away with showing as much flesh as he did.

What really surprised him though was the number of guys dressed as animals. He had heard some vague rumblings about the "furry" craze among certain sectors of the humans, but this was unreal. I mean, a werewolf mask was one thing, but a lot of guys here in the club were wearing full body paint (and not much else), marked as skunks and canines and foxes and felines of various striped and spotted varieties. And that wasn't to mention the guys that had fur applied to various parts of their bodies. There was even a deer-man complete with a full rack of antlers (and his package down below wasn't that bad either, Throttle noted). To top everything all off, there were not only a few mice, but even some with pink antennae.

His bros and he had become part of a subculture.

He wasn't in the mood for dancing tonight though, at least not right now. A table cleared up and Throttle decided to make his way towards it. He brushed past the crowd, apologizing when appropriate.

"Oooh, what was that?" Throttle felt his ears flush a little. Guess he had brushed a little too close to the guy in the fox body paint there.

"Sorry, bud."

The fox looked Throttle up and down slowly, a big grin on his painted face. "Hey, no need to apologize! That fur feels so real! But isn't it a bitch to take off?"

Gods, he was starting to blend in too well. Maybe a lame joke would get him out of it. "That's why I leave it on."

The painted fox laughed drunkenly. "Hey, you're funny. And cute too."

"Sorry. Not really looking to hook up tonight." Well, at least not until he'd had a chance to scope out the room some more.

"Well, let me know if you change your mind, Shug." The man leaned in so close that Throttle could smell the liquor on his breath. "By the way, I've seen that Throttle on TV. Next time, make sure and pad the downstairs a little bit more..."

Pad the downstai- Gods, he needed a drink! He moved on, and thankfully the table he had spied earlier was still free. He plopped down in one of the chairs and ran his fingers over his hair.

"Hey there, handsome! Down front tonight, hmm? What can I get you?"

Throttle looked up to see one of the regular waiters of the place dressed in a bow tie, shirt cuffs (with no shirt), and a tight black posing thong. And he had the fit blond body to get away with that outfit too. A pair of vampire teeth were the only real concession to the holiday. Throttle smiled a toothy smile that he wasn't sure he felt or not.

"How about a tall drink of you, sexy?"

The young man laughed, almost giggled, which Throttle wasn't so sure he liked. "Afraid the boss frowns on that while we're on duty at any rate."

"How about we start with a beer then. Depending on how the night goes, I may want a bottle of Jack too."

"Anything for our biggest..." The waiter cast a long lascivious look at Throttle's crotch. "...tipper. Hope you enjoy the show."

Throttle couldn't help but watch the waiter's tight ass as he headed for the bar. The waiter caught him looking and blew him a kiss, making the mouse's ears blush slightly. Vincent's ass was nicer, but not by much. If he ever got a chance to meet the owner of this place, he would have to compliment him on his taste in staff.

The room darkened suddenly, and even the dance music quieted, though it didn't fade entirely.

"Gentlemen," the DJ's voice came over the PA system.

"And ladies!" shouted one of the guys in drag, to the giggles of the friends around him. And no one else. The DJ just went on.

"Whiskey and the Lash is happy to welcome you to our Spookfest 2005! While the dancing continues, let me also direct your attention to the stage, where our club vampire has just woken up for the evening. He's ready to get the blood pumping - just watch out that he doesn't stake you!"

The techno beat rose again and a spotlight light a circle only a few yards from where Throttle was sitting. 'Down front,' the waiter had said. Hell, he was practically *on* the stage and he didn't realize it until now.

The lights had come up on a dancer in a long black cape and slicked back black hair, complete with widow's peak. The face was so pale Throttle was sure it was makeup, though he did have to admit that the red contact lenses were a nice touch. As the beat of the song picked up, the 'vampire' on stage flared his cape open, revealing that he was clad in only a red speedo underneath. A bit thin for Throttle's tastes, but not bad. The mouse could feel his maleness starting to stir slightly. Maybe this night wasn't going to be a complete write-off after all.

His beer arrived, and Throttle downed it in a few swallows. The waiter had thoughtfully brought the bottle of Jack Daniels at the same time, and Throttle opened it as well. The vampire's cape was gone at this point, and he was rubbing himself against one of the stage poles. Throttle pulled a swig off the bottle of Jack, not bothering to pour himself a shot glass. When the dancer came close, he slipped a could of ones into the waistband of the briefs. White body paint came off on his fingertips. Sort of ruined the illusion there.

The dancer's act finished with nothing more than a few suggestive strokes across his bulge. Not great, but not bad. The DJ's voice cut in again. "Let's give Vlad the Impaler a round of applause folks. But maybe the undead aren't your thing though. Maybe you've got...jungle fever..."

There was a hiss, and clouds of stage fog curled out over the back screen. Silhouettes of large fern leaves shone down onto the stage. The music gradually shifted from techno to a more...tribal, primitive beat. Throttle could feel his pulse pounding in time with the drums, could feel the rhythm echo somewhere in his groin. And then a face emerged from the curtains.

It was a tiger. A chill ran up Throttle's spine as he drank in the sight of the being's body. He wasn't sure whether he was painted or actually had fur, but this was the most convincing anthro costume that the mouse had ever seen. The orange was somehow bright and mellow at the same time, the black stripes seemed to suck light from the room, and the white down his belly only highlighted all the more the fit torso of this specimen of masculinity. He had long black hair down to the middle of his back, the same midnight black as his stripes, and his two cat ears were pierced with large silver hoops. The ears twitched on the top of his head like they were real; no sign of human ears at all.

The tigerboi was clad only in a loincloth, a tail flicking out over his ass. Gods, maybe it *was* real. He was sure that the furries out in the audience had messed themselves just looking at this creature. Hell, he wasn't that far from messing himself.

And then the eyes of the feline locked onto Throttle's. He had never seen a green that vibrant, that alive. As if the vital energy of the jungle were pouring out of those shining orbs. The mouse felt half-hypnotized by the gaze. And the tiger licked his lips (it was hard to tell, but the tongue definitely seemed more feline than human too). Oh, he knew the effect that he was having on the crowd. He knew alright. Did he know the effect he was having on Throttle too?

After that pause to let the crowd drink in the glorious sight of his body, the tigerboi began to dance, slowly at first, almost prancing in time with the primal beat. There wasn't much for the dancer to take off, so he made the most in the first part of his show by rubbing his paws (no *way* they were gloves!) over his fit young body, stroking over his pecs, playing with one of his nipples, rubbing his abs. His fingertips brushed over the front of his loincloth, and Throttle could feel the entire club lean forward, anticipating seeing what was underneath.

But like a true feline, the tiger just continued to play with his prey, the audience. He began to sway faster, his tail flicking a counterpoint to the throbbing rhythm. The dancer began to grind the poles, and people would reach up to tuck in money, but he always pulled away before they could. Throttle got the strong impression that the dancer was doing this to tease, not to make money. For the thrill he got from titillating the crowd.

And then he got at the pole right by Throttle, and the tiger's hypnotic eyes locked onto his again. Throttle could not look away. Mechanically, Throttle reached for his wallet, pulling out bills. He didn't even look at the denominations. The tigerboi grinned an almost predatory grin and then shook his head. Throttle swallowed. And then the tiger beckoned him on stage.

Throttle acted without thinking, pausing only to take another large swig from his bottle of whiskey. The crowd seemed as stunned as Throttle was, if not more so. And then they caught sight of the big biker mouse, in his tight leather pants and leather jock, and the sight of his fit torso under his open vest. Some of the crowd started applauding.

The tiger had a smirk on his face, a knowing smile that made Throttle's cock dance in its leather prison. And then the dancer turned his back to Throttle and began grinding his ass right against the mouse's crotch. He gasped in surprise at first, but quickly gave into the hormones that were rushing through his system. His muscular arms wrapped around the boi's waist and began stroking up and down his tight body. Much to the delight of the crowd. And that definitely was real fur. Where had this luscious creature come from?

The longer the two rubbed against each other, the louder the panting of the tiger became. The feline reached up around the mouse's neck and he moaned as he ground more insistently against Throttle's body. The mouse's cock was like a keel running up the center of his jock at this point, and he moaned and started to pinch at the tiger's nipples.

The dancer slipped away suddenly from Throttle's grasp, and the mouse was worried that he had gone too far in pinching the nipples. But the tiger was crouching between Throttle's legs, and before he could say anything, the dancer had pulled Throttle's jock down, revealing his impressive mousehood. (Throttle was happy to learn later that the fox who had drunkenly hit on him earlier had fainted right away at the sight of his true size.) The veiny shaft throbbed in beat with the jungle rhythm that still played. The crowd was going nuts at this point. And then the tiger began to lick Throttle's cock.

The mouse let out a howl of pleasure and pain that rang out over the incessant drumming. Gods, it was a real tiger tongue alright! But very nice once you got used to it. Kind of like jacking off with a rough washcloth. Only a washcloth didn't have a fuckably hard body attached to it. Throttle soon was leaking pre constantly into the tiger's hungry mouth. The dancer took his tip between his lips.

A bestial growl escaped Throttle's throat, and he buried his paws into that mane of shiny black hair, fingers twining around the tiger's locks. With a hunger he didn't know he had in him, the mouse pulled the feline further down onto his cock. He was usually the 'top' in any sexual situation, but he had never felt the need so strongly to *dominate* his partner until tonight. Perhaps there was something in the stage smoke?

Throttle began to fuck the dancer's mouth, his hips bucking wildly, and the tigerboi swallowed every inch greedily, in spite of gagging once or twice at the mouse's side. Strong paws reached up and began to assail Throttle's low-hanging balls, hints of claws pricking around his scrotum, but usually only if he didn't face-fuck the tiger fast enough. Gods, at this rate he wasn't going to last long at all.

The dancer seemed to sense his closeness, and again teasingly pulled away, leaving Throttle's pinkred cock slick with pre and saliva and bobbing against the mouse's abs. The Martian snarled and lunged after the tiger, which the feline seemed to anticipate, turning so that the only thing Throttle snagged was the tie to his loincloth. The simple garment fell to the floor.

The tigerboi had a cock almost as large as Throttle's own, black as his hair and his stripes, the mushroom head slick with his own pre. He smirked as he watched Throttle size him up and then turned his back on the mouse, crouching right at the front edge of the stage.

Throttle was on the boi in a second. It took him a couple thrusts to hit the tiger's (thankfully, pre-lubed) hole, but when he did, the mouse had the satisfaction of hearing the tiger howl this time. The boi was *tight*, tight as Throttle imagined Vincent's ass must be, never having anything up there besides the occasional finger of a venturesome lover. (How Throttle knew *that* was something he didn't want to let himself think about right now.) The Martian mouse began to pound the tiger with all the pent up frustration he had felt earlier in the evening, in addition to the lust he felt for this male right here and right now. He never felt he could really let himself go like this, unless he had a hard young body under him, one he knew could take it.

He looked up for a moment over the crowd. An orgy had broken out in the club, though many eyes were still watching the action on stage. And Throttle *knew* that the two of them were hot, his older body taking this fit young boi for everything he was worth. There was also the additional kink of a mouse topping a cat, prey literally sticking it to a predator.

A sharp nip on his arm brought his attention back to his partner. The tiger was looking over his shoulder at him with those piercing green eyes. Throttle couldn't help but smirk back at him. "Alright, kitty. You want it rough, you got it..."

The mouse's elbows locked against the dancer's ribs, 'caging' the tiger in place. And then he began to fuck him with complete abandon, his groin slapping against the dancer's tight ass as he bottomed out in him again and again and again. Throttle rotated his hips slightly with each thrust until a loud howl from his partner told him that he had found the tiger's prostate. Once he had, he began to punish the internal button with every stroke, until finally the tiger threw his head back and let out what could only be described as a roar. Jet after jet of thick cum squirted onto the stage, and Throttle found his cock gripped harder than it had ever been gripped before.

That proved to be too much for the Martian Mouse. As soon as there was the slightest relaxation of the tiger's anal grip, Throttle came as well, his seed coating the dancer's insides. Gods he needed this. Needed to fuck a mouse good and hard until...

He paused at his own train of thought, even as his orgasm finished inside the tiger. He had needed this, yes. But there was something else he had to do that was more important. It was only fucking with wild abandonment like this that he had realized how important it was exactly. Throttle pulled out of the tiger still half hard and kissed him possessively on the mouth. "We'll finish this later, bro," he whispered into a twitching ear after he broke the kiss. "Got business to take care of. That ass is still mine." The dancer nodded like he understood.

Throttle climbed off the stage, his legs shaking slightly. Somehow he landed up near his own table. His half-drunk bottle of whiskey was still there, as was a pile of napkins, with phone numbers and room numbers and even a couple proposals of marriage scrawled on them. The mouse stuffed the napkins into the pockets of his vest and almost as an afterthought picked the bottle of whiskey off the table too. He was groped more times than he could count as he made his way through the crowd, finally having the sense to at least tuck himself back into his jockstrap. At last he made it to the door though and hopped on his bike, heading off into the night.

That 'dance' had been so freeing, so primal. Life was short. You gotta trust your buds and your bike, and then find love where you could. He was going to tell Vincent how he felt, once he figured out how.

He just hoped that Vinnie would understand it would always be an open relationship.

The End.