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This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design: D. B. Story

Encounters: Cat Women © 2009 D.B. Story

eXcessica publishing

All rights reserved

Encounters: Cat Women

By D.B. Story

Acknowledgements

To author Will Shetterly and his excellent novel Chimera, which inspired the term Critters and the concept of Crittertown.

Also to Arthur (A.) Bertram Chandler's novel The Inheritors, which I remember well despite having read it decades ago. It helped shape my views on this subject long ago.

A special thanks to Rocket Ralph and Ian for their excellent and much appreciated proofreading.

When the Critters showed up among us it was a sudden, overnight event. Some said they'd been here all along and we just couldn't see them until now. As wild as that sounds there are some persuasive arguments in favor of it.

Whatever the reason, such a massive paradigm shift caused surprisingly few ripples. Within a week it wasn't even front-page news anymore, having been pushed off by reports of the latest war in some never before heard of somewhere-stan. Within a month it was becoming difficult to remember life without them. It's a lot like venturing out on a nude beach for the first time. Hard to believe after just a couple of hours how normal it can all become.

Crittertowns soon sprung up in the cheap (translation: depressed) areas of major cities. Being outnumbered a couple hundred to one by the "normal" Humans, Critters tended to congregate among their own kind. Their relatively low numbers were an advantage that made them less threatening. Basic civil rights had been grudgingly extended to all of them who could speak, read and write, or sign the national language, and who understand their responsibilities under Human law. You can't, however, legislate acceptance.

Despite the many animal traits displayed among their various species, being a Critter means they all share largely human traits as well. I think we started calling them Critters when it was realized that anthropomorphic was simply too hard to pronounce—let alone spell.

Quite a number of them, with the right clothing and a bit of make-up, can easily pass for pure Human—at least as long as you don't pull off their hats, or sunglasses—or pull down their pants. Even there though is a surprising amount of inter-compatibility, as several new glossy magazines and a spate of web-sites quickly exposed.

One thing all Critters have in common is a universal disbelief approaching distain for the number of laws Humans seem to need to govern themselves. From the beginning Critters have needed far less rules and regulations to get along. Human cops soon stopped even trying to patrol Crittertowns. An unspoken, tacit agreement was reached that as long as Crittertown's problems stay within its boundaries the residents can deal with it themselves. It has proven to be Community Policing at its finest.

One result of this is that many intriguing, while highly illicit, enterprises that are not wanted in nicer neighborhoods soon found their home in Crittertown.

It's not that humans are unsafe—or even unwelcome—in Crittertown per se. For the adventurous it can be quite an experience—and for the experienced, quite an adventure. It's just that if you bump somebody down there they might well just bump you back twice as hard. And no one will come to your aid over something as trivial as that. But like virtually everywhere else, alertness and good manners will keep you out of ninety percent of all your problems, while a little ready cash can fix nine more percent.

For those who can't learn their manners the easy way, or feel a need to spout off about the supposed superiority of human beings down in Crittertown itself, being slammed against a wall by a man-bear with three times your strength, or having a jaguar-woman's claws shred your jacket, shirt and cleanly lay open your skin open right down to your ribs is a most effective teacher. Few transgress twice. Some old adventure seekers have said it reminds them of the fabled Walled City of Kowloon in more ways than one.

* * * *

I've never gone to Crittertown myself. Gaming casinos, some truly exotic and uninhibited sexual practices in the red light district, along with private shows in private rooms, not to mention (although I will) the ability to experiment with a variety of questionable to outright banned substances just doesn't lure me. I've lived a quiet, single life in the suburbs and leave the adventuring to others. An adopted housecat has been my only companion, until I recently lost her to old age.

Instead I go to the beach. And when I go my favorite is a secluded one where the extra effort to get there is rewarded by few other visitors. I'm seldom ever disturbed here.

I take a good book with me, plus umbrella, backrest, icebox, and towel. Once settled in on the sand I let the sounds of the ocean and solitude of the beach wash away the rest of the world. Therefore it was quite a surprise when a brightly colored beach ball rolled to a stop up against my feet.

I looked up and scowled at the silhouetted figure that had followed its path in. All I could see against the bright sun was a young female about twelve years old.

"I'm sorry, Missster," she said, stretching out the pronunciation of her ess's in a most appealing, exotic way.

I must have relaxed my scowl at her sweet apology because she approached closer now.

"May I have my ball back?"

"Sure," I replied, picking it up and tossing it to her.

"Thank you," she replied sweetly, before giggling and running off with it.

It was only as she turned that I saw her cute, furry tail standing up in excitement. Bemused I watched her scamper away into the dunes before returning to my book.

* * * *

A few minutes later the ball bumped up against me again. This time I looked up paying more attention.

I was right. She is a Critter-girl, or more accurately a kitten-girl. Her Cat ears poked their tips through her bright blonde hair. Those could easily be covered by a hat or scarf. The vertical pupils in her pale eyes were tight slits against the bright sun and sand. Her face is very human, although her eyebrows were unusually bushy. She also showed traces of whiskers, and can crinkle up her nose in a way I've never seen a Human woman do.

The rest of her visible body is hairless, which is not unusual for Critters, although many have complete pelts of lovely fur. I say visible since her tiny bikini doesn't cover much. Her fingers are pointed with obvious retractable claws instead of nails. Her feet have toes with fixed claws that more clearly show her feline heritage. That fact that they're painted a cotton candy pink shows her human side.

When I said she appears twelve-years-old that's a human measurement. Most Critters mature far more quickly, often matching the growth rate of their animal counterparts. This Critter-girl might only be two or three years old, although already halfway to adult. Their minds grow as quickly as their bodies and should easily match her proper age when converted to human-years.