Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Tigress Shapeshifter ~ M for Murderous Claws

New Moon, new month howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers. Yes, beastly violence and bad language ahead.


Tigress Shapeshifter ~ M for Murderous Claws

Kytaira softly rumbled her appreciation after several long sips of the raw milk she’d just purchased. Perfectly chilled, it hit the spot on this warm Spring day. Around her, Saturday morning shoppers crowded the farmer’s market. Human children bounced and squealed with delight or temper, that is, if they weren’t clinging to the legs of their parents.

Closing her eyes, Kytaira inhaled the sweet-pasture aroma of the milk as she turned toward the trunk of an aged elm tree. With no one able to witness her societal transgression, she lapped the milk until it became too low in the glass.

With a shake of her short hair, Kytaira strolled in the direction of the Amish farmer’s booth. She’d been purchasing from him for a year now, grateful to have found the healthy moo juice.

Reveling in the late morning sun, Kytaira looked for other yummies to try. As she passed the booths fragrances of potted herbs, flowering plants and yeasty baked goods invited her attention. Earth was a paradise when it came to varieties of food.

Intending to pick up the crate that held her bottles of raw milk, and stow it in the modest car she and Zurroc used when traveling outside of New York City, Kytaira halted in her tracks. The odor of what she described as 'wimp evil' drifted from the horse and buggy area. Not only that, she recognized the owner.

In the past, Kytaira had listened to the undercover fed agent wheedle and beg to have raw milk delivered to him out of state. However, to her relief the Amish Farmer had known not to sell since it meant a certain raid, and the loss of his dairy cows. Perhaps, even imprisonment.

With her instincts biting at her middle, Kytaira set the glass down, then shoved her hands inside the pockets of the comfy jeans she wore. As if something had attracted her interest, she casually walked toward the roly poly agent with the pock-marked face. He spoke with a thirtyish woman, obviously of his same ilk.

“Milk, it does a tigress’s body good,” Zurroc purred close to her ear. Briefly, he caressed her belly, then with an affectionate nip of her earlobe, he moved beside her. “What’s up?”

“So, you noticed my lack of arousal,” she bantered with a purpose. An electronic mike had been aimed at them from inside the ubiquitous white van.

“Your ass didn’t cuddle up to my cock. I noticed.”

“If you could put the milk in the car, I’ll be ready to leave soon.”

“Don’t keep me waiting too long.” Pivoting from her, Zurroc established their telepathic connection. On the hunt, my tigress?

Yes. Suspicious activity by the enemies of raw milk lovers everywhere.

I’ll rev up the engine for a quick pursuit.

Pausing, Kytaira pretended to admire one of the horses. She cocked her ear tuning into the agents’ conversation. What she heard caused her to see blood red. Her teeth gnashed threatening to morph into fangs.

With the desire to attack burning through her, Kytaira clenched her fists to keep her claws from thrusting into existence. Meet me, she telepathed, as she strode toward Zurroc.

He rolled toward her, and keeping her rage contained, Kytaira opened the passenger door, hopping inside. “They’re waiting for him.” She chewed the words. “They’re going to use a SWAT team to raid his farm once he returns...our Amish farmer,” she added.

“I did my own surveillance.” Zurroc spoke as he drove toward the exit. “I know the exact location of his farm. We’ll cut them off at the pass.” He swung onto the road, heading toward the two lane highway.

“You’re watching too many Westerns.”

“Is that so? I haven’t heard one complaint when I wear my Stetson and spurs, and tell you to mount up.” His growly tone teased her.

Kytaira hesitated only a moment. “And you won’t hear any, tiger cowboy. Yeeehawww,” she throatily rumbled. With a flip of her hair, she switched to killer. “I’ll deliver a timely message to the agents in charge before we scatter the vermin.” Kytaira licked her lips in anticipation. “I can taste the wanna-be Darth Vaders now.”

“I’ll prowl the perimeter, and get a fix on their positions, first, while you take out their operations base with your special expertise.”

“A plan I can love, black tiger mine. Don’t look,” she sassily tossed toward him, even as took off her shoes.


Naked, Kytaira leapt from the slowly rolling car. Staying low, she charged toward the two agents who stood beside their car, parked within sight of the farmhouse and barn. The woman spoke on a cell phone, while the man talked into a walkie talkie like device.

Knowing the woman was in charge of the operation by her dominant vibes, Kytaira sprinted toward the man. As he paced, adjusting his ear piece like it was a talisman, she snuck up behind him.

With a swift spin, she kicked punching his temple with the heel of her foot. He blacked out immediately, collapsing to the ground. Retrieving the communication device, Kytaira crushed it in her hand, then tossed it aside.

“What the goddamn fuck?” The woman whirled, facing Kytaira. Even though her gaze registered shock, she dropped her ultra-smart phone, and pulled her revolver. In a quick professional motion, she aimed true.

Kytaira was quicker. With a half spin, she avoided the fired bullets. Seizing the woman’s wrist, she twisted ruthlessly. The gun dropped into Kytaira’s hand, and she flashed a bolt of energy, melting it.

Screaming in pain, the woman backed up. She jerked open the car door, intending to grab another weapon. Before the woman could open the driver’s door completely, Kytaira launched her foot, striking the side and slamming it shut.

Snarling, Kytaira stalked closer. “You don’t learn, do you, blondie?”

“Who are you, bitch? You won’t get away with this. I don’t care who...”

Ignoring the petulant demand, and the woman’s silly assumption that she was about to be rescued, Kytaira glared at her with feral eyes. Once yuppie blondie’s lips stopped flapping, she snatched up the beeping signaling phone. Keeping one eye trained on the dishwater blonde, Kytaira disabled the satellite uplink, then the satellite itself. Firing her force into the phone’s other connection frequencies, she fried the monitoring electronics in DC.

“Here, blondie.” Kytaira tossed the phone to her. “Once you take a good look, we’ll have a conversation. One sided, of course.”

Thumbing buttons like a texting queen, the agent also kept watch from the corner of her eye. Then, in a desperate bid to escape, she threw the phone at Kytaira’s face, and charged forward with the clumsiness of a young cub.

Kytaira almost laughed as she flipped the woman onto her back. She hit hard, and Kytaira leaped on top of her. Trapping blondie’s throat with her hand, she pressed down just enough to keep control.

“I have a few messages for your corrupt bosses.”

The woman gurgled a scream while grabbing Kytaira’s wrist with both of her hands. Before she could do any damage with her digging nails, Kytaira morphed her free hand. Faster than blondie could scream again, she swiped her cheek with the tips of her claws. The fine scratches welled with blood.

“Ready to listen now?”

The woman nodded pathetically, her eyes like twin ping pong balls.

“Never get between a tigress and her raw milk.”

Frantically, blondie shook her head no, her gaze somehow staying Kytaira’s face and raised paw.

“If you or anyone dares to bother this Amish farmer and his family in any way, it will be your last regret.” Kytaira paused for effect. “Got it, blondie?”

She nodded like a rapidly bouncing ball. Still, Kytaira witnessed the woman’s belief that she and her rapacious ilk would prevail. That is, if she lived to tell the tale.

Kytaira smiled with slow cruelty. “Remember, blondie, it’s not V for Vendetta, it’s M for Murderous Claws.”

With a deft swipe of her paw, Kytaira ripped open the top of her blouse. She flexed one claw so the woman could see it’s entire lethal size before she flashed it downward, and carved an M on her chest. Of course, blondie fainted.

Kytaira sprang upward. “Now for some real predator fun.”

Shifting to tigress, she roared as she ran to join Zurroc. He’d already scattered the SWAT team, and now chased them as if they were a flock of giant blackbirds who couldn’t wing off the ground.

Weaving in and out like the powerful beast he was, Zurroc batted their assault weapons away as soon as they raised them. With fierce enthusiasm, he hunted the black-shielded cowards. For, only cowards harmed those who were no threat to them.

Kytaira bounded into the fray, her jaws clamping onto one man’s arm as he took aim at her black tiger. The bones of his forearm snapped between her fangs satisfactorily.

Releasing him, Kytaira watched as he ran for the hills clutching his arm. Several of his fellows followed, and the smell of their fear was a sweet gift all its own.

Together, she and Zurroc sprang toward those who drew sidearms and formed a circle around them. Before the Darth Vaders got one shot off, she and Zurroc slapped at the black helmets with the deadly strength of their paws.

When a second wave raced toward them, their weapons firing wildly, Kytaira and Zurroc split apart and charged behind them. Whirling back and forth on their hindquarters -- their claws flashing beneath the noon sunlight -- they tore hunks of material off their indestructible uniforms.

In minutes, the entire team retreated. Kytaira and Zurroc playfully pursued them until they ran like frightened rabbits.

Home, my tigress?

Yes, home. I have plans for that raw milk.

Organic cocoa powder and honey does make the best chocolate milk.


From the Kougar’s Writing Den ~ White Fang, Ace Reporter

*Unedited Six Sentence* progress on the latest WIP novella...

Chapter Six ~ Shere Khan’s Dishonorable Ninjas

A whirling wind heralded dawn, and blew through Z’Pasha. Once Earth’s breath intermingled with her essence, she knew she had achieved her desired diaphanous state.

Z’Pasha retained the full use of her magickal skills as she would while fully materialized, yet she could also travel as the wind. Aware Shere Khan possessed a similar sorcery due to his disciplined practice of the esoteric knowing, Z’Pasha sent breeze-like tendrils to act as her alarm.

While the Yakuza leader’s ninjas were advanced in the art of fighting astrally, they did not match his abilities, as Z’Pasha had discovered. She considered Shere Khan a dangerous enemy.

Note: For a look at the first five chapters ‘six sentence’ openings, check my page.

Happy New Moon Shapeshifting


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~


Rebecca Gillan said...

Yes! Save the day, the farmer and the milk-- and get to chase people like a flock of giant flightless birds! That's gotta be chocked up a a giant WIN for tiger-cops everywhere!

Serena Shay said...

Hehe...righting the wrongs of the world, saving the amish farmer and a glass of chocolate milk! I love it!

Great flash, Savanna! :)

Savanna Kougar said...

Rebecca, yeah, that's gotta be fun for tigers, chasing a flock of no-goods.

Savanna Kougar said...

Serena, yep, that my tigress and her black tiger. Thank you!

Pat C. said...

Kytaira needs to visit Lancaster County. All sorts of Amish farms around, with raw milk (cow and goat) for all.

And puppy mills, but that's a whole 'nother can of worms.

Savanna Kougar said...

Yeah, I dunno if the most recent raid occurred in Lancaster County, however several Amish farmers have been raided over raw milk in Pennsylvania when there was not one complaint, and no one became ill.

I know this is unpopular because there are bad puppy mills. However, there are also responsible kennels that raise puppies. And, no, I never worked for, nor did I ever have a kennel that raised puppies for sale. I just happen to know good folks who did, and do. There's also a move on by some so-called humane groups to kill off all dogs and cats because they consider them to be like vermin. They only want wild animals on the planet. Sorry, but, where would we be without our beloved pets?

Rebecca Gillan said...

Yeah, they have tried that a few times here in Colorado, too. I don't drink it but I really don't think it's any of my business if someone else does. We drank raw milk for thousands of years and yet managed to survive. Here lately it seems like you have more of a chance of getting ill, deathly or otherwise, from tomatoes than from raw mild...

Savanna Kougar said...

Yeah, I agree. It's a personal choice. And, it doesn't make sense since other foods become contaminated. Big Factory Farm contamination sickens far more people... not to mention how horribly they treat animals, and also crop plants.