User:Leasara/Look Before You Leopard
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{{#ifeq: User |User| Look Before You Leopard | Look Before You Leopard}}[[Title::{{#ifeq: User |User| Look Before You Leopard | Look Before You Leopard}}| ]]
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{{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Shannon Robertson | Shannon Robertson}} | |
{{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}} | ||
Author: [[User:{{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}}|{{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}}]] [[Author::{{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}}| ]]
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{{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}} | |
Author: {{#ifeq: User |User| Shannon Robertson | Shannon Robertson}} |
Author: [[User:{{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}}|{{#ifeq: User |User| Shannon Robertson | Shannon Robertson}}]] [[Author::{{#ifeq: User |User| Shannon Robertson | Shannon Robertson}}| ]]
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{{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Shannon Robertson | Shannon Robertson}} | |
{{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}} | | Authors: ' |
Authors: [[User:{{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}}|{{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}}]]
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{{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}} | |
Authors: {{#ifeq: User |User| Shannon Robertson | Shannon Robertson}} |
Author: [[User:{{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}}|{{#ifeq: User |User| Shannon Robertson | Shannon Robertson}}]]
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}} {{#if:| — see [[:Category:{{{category}}}|other works by this author]]}}
The masonry of the wall had created an illusion that caused him to misjudge the distance to the ground, this landing was really going to hurt. Knees and feet together, hit, move the momentum into a roll, and stand. Fortunately his training had also taught him to ignore the complaints from his joints that invariably resulted from this maneuver. Sprinting for the tree line, he checked his sub-dermal compass to verify the direction of the package. The display on the bangle let him know had about six minutes to remove it before the injection it contained went off, plenty of time, as long as the guards didn't catch him. He allowed himself a glimmer of hope.
Admiring the escaping subject, Dr. Lydia Clayton was sitting on the rucksack she assumed to be his destination. It had been hidden well, but was still easily found if you knew what to look for. She had moved it a little further into the forest to provide better cover. Next to her stood a trim woman wearing a severe expression to match her blazer and pencil skirt and holding a spotlight. Impressed at his roll, she leaned towards her aide and whispered, "He's really good, pity. Hopefully he'll be as graceful landing on his feet." He came out of the shadow of the wall and into the light of the moon and she grabbed at her aides arm. "Look! This is my favorite part, he thinks he's out. See! Look at his eyes!" she was having a hard time keeping still as the moment she was anticipating drew near.
He left the manicured lawn behind and the terrain took a slight downward slope, causing him to shift his posture more upright as he ran. He thought he caught a flash of light inside of the forest, like the moons reflection from a lens. He instinctively dropped and rolled to a stop. Creeping forward on his belly, he peered into the shadows in front of him. He was about a yard from the trees when the bangle gave a double-beep and fired. He sat up staring wide eyed at the device who's timer had stopped at 5:32. It gave a slight hum, then split and dropped to the ground as he was bathed in a light from the forest. Holding up his newly freed hand out to shield his eyes, he could make out two silhouettes at the source of the light.
"Oh! That was perfect! Thank you. You are a day early though." The one not holding the light was was clapping her hands. His arm was becoming hot as whatever drug had gone into his muscle started doing whatever it was meant to do. "They had another eighteen hours to make your ransom, but I guess it's all the same in the end. You might want to lower that arm, holding it above your heart will only speed the effects."
He dropped his hand and moved to cover the wound from the needle with his other hand, but found his skin too hot to touch. This moved his focus from the shadowy figures to his arm. He retrieved the knife he had liberated in his flight and cut the sleeve of his infiltration suit to his shoulder. In the spotlight, his skin appeared to have a greenish-yellow tint spreading slowly from the injection sight. It had reached half way down his hand, and was nearly to his elbow. He cut a strip from his bisected sleeve and wrapped it around his arm, just above the elbow, then used a stick from the ground to tighten the tourniquet until he could no longer feel his arm. A peel of mad laughter answered his efforts.
"That's wonderful! He's still fighting it. I wonder how long it'll hold back the serum?" She stood and appeared to be taking off her coat, when she then draped over the arm holding the spotlight. Stepping into the beam cast from her aides hand, he could tell that she was wearing very little, if anything at all. She slowly walked toward him. "You came here to investigate an animal smuggling ring, selling rare and endangered species to those that can afford them, correct? Well, it's true, that is how I make my money, but that's only the very end of a cycle. You're about to gain more intelligence on my operation than you had planned for. Too bad you won't be able to share it with anyone." As she neared him, she could see that the tourniquet had become lose and the telltale discoloration had already claimed his naked shoulder.
He had been taught to resist many, varying forms of coercion, and he now fought a battle against her seduction. Her lose gait as she crossed to him, combined with the way the light played along the edges of her silhouette, and the dimensions of the voluptuous silhouette itself held him transfixed. She was talking, and he knew he should be listening, but he had more immediate needs. He was losing ground. The sway of her broad hips contrasting the steadiness of her eyes was the same hypnosis some cobras used to trap their prey. Adding in the tempo and temptation of her sultry voice, his resolve dissipated like steam in a gale before her onslaught. His jaw went slack as he realized he was seeing a vision of Venus descending from Olympus.
She picked up his knife from where it had fallen, and with a few deft movements he was as kneeling, naked before her, the tourniquet and stick still clutched in his right hand.She walked a tight circle around him, inspecting her prize for the first time. His body told the story of a battle hardened warrior, bearing scars that doubtless held many stories. Scars that disappeared as her serum spread, preparing his skin. He was well muscled, but lacked the definition usually gained from weight training. As she passed behind him, she traced the lines in his shoulders with a finger, these shoulders were the proof that he had come by his physique through the strenuous work in the field. Completing her circle, she brought her attention lower. She was elated to see that he wasn't another steroid-pumped pencil-dick.
Seeing that the injection was already working on his legs, she slid her hand down his torso. eliciting a shiver and soft moan from the man, and cupped his sack. She played with his stiffened rod for a moment, but as the discoloration finally overtook it, it began to soften. With a gentle tug she pulled out a clump of his pubic hair. Reaching up with her other hand, she began to brush the hair from his head, and in a moment he was bald in both areas. She moved back up his torso, gently removing the dusting of hair on her way while confirming the tension in his muscles was locking him in place. She depilated his arms in a similar fashion and, as she finished with his beard, his eyes began to regain some vitality.
As consciousness returned to him, he was feeling very strange. His whole body seemed like it would burst into flames at any moment. In spite of his training, he began to panic. He couldn't move at all. Even his face had frozen into a mask. To battle the panic, he was just glad to still be breathing. She was smiling as she brushed something from his cheek. Back-lit, he couldn't be certain of the color of her hair, it was most likely black. Judging by the features of her face, she was probably from the Middle East, somewhere between Northern Egypt and Kuwait. She was caressing his legs with that same strange smile, and he realized he was naked. The heat in his body seemed to diminish in temperature, but deepen in scope. Starting with his feet, he could feel a dull ache as he regained control of his toes. She began to rub his feet, and the sensation sent thrills of spasms up his legs and back.
"You can probably hear me again, though I doubt you can speak." She had an implacable accent that called to mind visions of ecstasy and danger. "It really is a pity that you didn't come here on your own. We could have spent days, even weeks, in our play. You're such a beautiful specimen. Why do the best ones always limit us to one encounter?" She didn't seem to be speaking directly to him. He could move his legs again, though the ache persisted. She had moved on to his calves, and was releasing spasms of pure pleasure as she massaged deeply into his muscles. He was becoming aroused in spite of himself. "Not yet. Oh, not yet. You should wait at least until your hips are ready." What was she talking about? He used his limited mobility to turn to see his legs behind him, and she quickened her pace, moving to his thighs.
His feet were not recognizable. They bent at a strange angle in the middle, and the balls and toes looked like -- They looked like paws. His feet had become perfectly formed paws, and were starting to grow hair that matched the black spotted gold pattern that had covered his skin replacing the greenish discoluration. Likewise his calves had become impossibly short and narrow. He tried to object to whatever she was doing to him, but all that came out was a rumbling noise from deep inside his chest. She looked up at this, and he could see that her eyes were an unnatural golden color.
"I see you're back." she said with the strange smile again and turned back to his thighs, starting to work around to his hips. The sensations were threatening to wash him away again. "You're lucky, you're going to a breeding program. Most of the animals I sell become pets to the rich and frivolous. Some of the poor things are even eaten by their new masters." as she started working on his hips, he rocked forward and found himself standing awkwardly on his new feet. "I try not to sell to people that I know will just kill the animal for it's skin or meat, but I do what I must to survive." He strained forward as she dug a fingernail into his lower back and moved it down towards his butt. The sensation of his new tail following her finger as she drew it to it's final length was possibly the most sensual thing he had ever felt. She came around to face him again and kneeled "You know, I kept a pack of, what are today called, Persian Leopards, the cat you'll soon be, even before the days of Alexander." His eyes, only slightly changed, were wide and his mouth hung open, panting. She put a hand under his chin and looked in his eyes, "Is there nothing of the soldier left?" He blinked and shook his head as if to clear it. "That's better. I hoped you would be here for this part. This is the moment that sustains me." She turned around and raised her ass into his field of view.
Weather it was nearing dawn, or what was happening to him, he found it easier to see. As she presented herself to him, he could see that the edges of her sex were turning black. New instincts moved him, and he sniffed her, and gave her two licks before climbing onto her back. He reached around and cupped a breast in each hand as he got into position. Alarms started to go off in his mind, but he couldn't resist her, and he felt his manhood changing in concert with her willing pussy. On his first thrust he could feel the changes moving up his spine, and his partner's tail coming in. He started pounding into her, and her transformation sped on ahead of his. He could feel himself slipping away into this instant, every part of his being was focused on the release that would come any moment. He didn't notice his hands becoming paws, or the changes in his neck and head. Finally he reached the end and as he exploded within his mate, his fur grew in spurts in time with each spasm of his release.
Spent, he dismounted the other leopard, and lay down to clean himself. The aide turned off the spotlight and walked to where Dr. Clayton was regaining her natural form. as she stood up, the aide wrapped her in her coat. "It really is too bad he didn't come on his own. That was at least fifty years, but I bet I could have gotten five hundred out of him."