Prologue

	“Hello?”
“Come.”
The door to the rented office opened on quiet hinges. Ankou leaned back in his chair, closing the folder containing the applicant’s resume and put on his best smile.
“Are you Mr. Ankou?” the wolf asked as he entered the dimly lit room.
“I am.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir!” The wolf padded across the wooden floor, toe claws clicking loudly, breaking the silence of the otherwise vacant building. “My name is-”
“No name. I don’t tend to use space in my memory for those who may not be working with us for very long.” Ankou leaned forward and brushed the white bangs away from his grey eyes. Pushing up his glasses, he looked the boy over. He was built well for someone who sought an office job; good muscle tone, pretty face, nice clothes. The coyote adjusted himself and bridged his fingers, staring at the applicant, watching him breathe. “So, why do you think you would be a good fit with us?”
The wolf sat in the leather chair and folded his hands in his lap. Keeping his chin up, he began his obviously rehearsed spiel. “Well, sir, I’ve worked with numbers all my life. I’ve always found that mathematics have a place in the everyday, whether it be placing bets at the track to figuring out a weekly grocery budget. When I graduated high school, I went to the University of-”
Mr. Ankou raised a hand, cutting the wolf off mid-sentence. “I’m not interested in your credentials. I want to know why you think you’d be good here. What… personality traits do you think you have that would make you stand out were you, say, speaking in front of a thousand people at a benefit or giving a presentation to a board of directors?”
The applicant swallowed heavily and rubbed his thumbs together. “Would that be something I’d be required to do? I thought this was a-”
“I apologize. I believe we’re done here. Thank you for your interest.”
“No!” The wolf’s ears flicked back and his eyes widened. “No. Mr. Ankou. Please, I need this job.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve always been told I was personable? That… people feel comfortable around me. Hell, even in the gym, people tend to come up to me and ask my routines or ask what my diet is. But, I’ve always just wanted to live well and have a career I could be proud of. I was never a creative one, everything is always logic and numbers.”
“But, you’re good with people?”
“I think so. I never had any real enemies in school as a kid and other jobs I worked at during my studies were always enjoyable.”
“How would you say you handle intense situations? In particular, how would you handle being asked to do something you were uncomfortable with, even if you knew you shouldn’t be?”
“It would depend. I’m… a bit reactive to things. For example, I must admit, my heart is racing as though I’ve just finished a marathon just sitting here.”
This caught Ankou’s attention. “Oh? I’d have never guessed. You hide it well.”
“Thank you. I know I can handle it, and I would deal with a situation I found uncomfortable in a professional manner, my body is just, as I said, reactive.”
The coyote nodded and pointed at the wolf’s chest. “Would you say you enjoy horror films?”
The applicant laughed at that, rubbing the back of his head and smiling apologetically. “Not really. I tend to get shaky enough from tense action flicks.”
“I see. Well, I’ve heard enough.” Ankou smiled, flashing his bright, white teeth. “I’ve already gone over your references and confirmed your credentials. I just wanted to meet you in person and look you over. Yes. I’d say you’d be great.”
“J… just like that? I got the job?” The wolf’s tail wagged a little as his ears perked.
“You do. Go home, celebrate, and we’ll contact you when we’re ready for you to begin.”
“Thank you! Thank you so much, sir! I promise you won’t regret it.” The applicant practically jumped from his seat.
Ankou shook his new employee’s hand before seeing him to the door. Watching as the wolf descended the stairs next to his office door, the coyote could only lick his lips. “No, I won’t.”
Returning to his desk, Mr. Ankou reopened the applicant’s folder and began the final paperwork:
·	Subject: 01
·	Species: Wolf
·	Age: 23
·	Sex: Male
·	Build: Muscular
·	Entrant: Approved

~

“How… much… longer…?” The cheetah asked, feet thudding against the treadmill. “Really… hard… to breathe…” He gasped, flicking his head to move the bangs aside as he inhaled great lungfuls of air, eyes locked on the monitoring equipment.
“Your heart rate is currently 184. During our initial screening you pushed 200 just standing up. We have to make sure your heart doesn’t suffer from any abnormal arrhythmias before we allow you to continue with the team. Please continue.” Dr. Ankou pressed his thumb pad against the lever controlling the treadmill, cranking the equipment’s elevation up two levels as well as increasing the speed.
All the while, the coyote’s eyes never left the cheetah’s chest, watching as the oversized heart shook his left pectoral with each mighty pump. The wires and straps connected to the boy’s body served to perfectly frame his chest as he ran, creating the picture of ultimate performance.
“I can’t…!”
“You can.” Ankou flicked his eyes to the monitors. The elevation did what he was after. The cheetah’s heart had skyrocketed past 200 and seemed to plateau at 208. The lines on the EKG remained constant, detailing every aspect of the engine keeping the young cat alive. It excited Ankou.
The coyote grinned, catching a quizzical look from his patient. “Almost,” he whispered, practically cooing. Again, he pressed his finger into the lever, turning the treadmill to its highest point and causing the cheetah to have to sprint to keep from falling from the device.
The monitoring equipment redlined as the heart rate broke 210, warning the doctor of the impending damage to the boy’s vitals. Ankou made mental notes, amazed at the strength of the heart on screen. The size and power would be enough to make a horse blush. He sighed, knowing full well not to damage company property before its time and pulled the lever down, resetting the treadmill’s position.
“Okay, quickly, lay back on the bed. Quickly!” Dr. Ankou half-jogged to the exam table, expertly flicking the echocardiogram to life as the cheetah collapsed atop the bed.
Pressing the wand up against the boy’s chest produced a bright, clear picture of his heart on screen. It shook Ankou’s entire hand with each beat, the valves opening and closing in perfect rhythm. It was beautiful. An organ so young and full of life – flawless – all under Ankou’s control.
“How’s it look?” the cheetah asked, looking around the room and attempting to catch his breath.
“Amazing.” It amused Ankou how little the cheetah seemed to care. He barely looked at the image. “Let’s have a listen.” He pressed a button on the machine and immediately, the sound of blood rushing through the powerful chambers echoed in the testing room. There were no skips, no falters, just the uninterrupted workings of a heart in its prime.
“I feel like… I’m dying…” The cheetah laughed, turning to face the screen for the first time. “Looks different in… the movies…”
Dr. Ankou smiled. “This is just the inside of your heart reflected by soundwaves. We’d have to crack you open to see what they see in films. Which,” he punched in a few keys and reluctantly pulled the wand away, “we won’t have to do, I’m pleased to say. Your screening must have been a false flag. I’ve worked with countless hearts and I’ve never seen one compete with yours’ strength.”
“So, I’m going to live?”
“For now. They all stop eventually but yours will treat you well on the field.”
The cheetah’s eyes widened for a moment before laughing nervously. “I don’t really want to think of death. I was nervous enough coming here, being a cheetah and all. I thought I’d be needing a new heart and that I’d have to give up soccer and major in business or something.”
“Well, there’s no need to worry. This heart will last you a very long time before the end.” Dr. Ankou stood up and began removing the wiring from the boy’s chest, allowing his hand to linger over the slowing heart a little longer than he should, loving the feel of the organ tapping against his palm pads. Even the recovery was fascinating, having fallen to roughly 140.
When he was finished, he picked up his clipboard and waited for the cheetah to get dressed. “I’ve recorded the entire test. I’ll have a colleague go over it with me but I don’t foresee any complications. If there are, I have your number.”
“Thanks, doc. It really puts my mind at ease.” The cheetah threw his shirt on but refrained from buttoning it up. Ankou didn’t mind, it showcased the way his chest muscles worked with each heave of his lungs.
They shook hands – the coyote taking note of the roughness of the boy’s pads – and parted ways.
Opening the clipboard to his patient’s file, he clicked his pen and finished out the details:
·	Subject: 02
·	Species: Cheetah
·	Age: 18
·	Sex: Male
·	Build: Athletic
·	Entrant: Approved

~

“Y… you’re Master Ankou, right?” asked a deer, rubbing his hands together nervously.
Ankou looked up from his seat, staring at the stag through the red tinted glass of his gas mask. “I am.” He took note of the male’s collar and its markings. An upside down chevron in a dotted circle – a free ‘slave’. Sitting up on one elbow, the coyote crossed his legs and exhaled, the filter of his mask sounding like air from a compressor.
“I… I messaged you online… Do you remember? I-”
“Sit.”
“Sir…?”
“Sit before me.” Master Ankou looked at the doms he’d been conversing with in his private haven and waved them off. One, a fellow coyote, leaned in and rubbed his muzzle against the deer’s antlers as he passed. They were good people, Ankou didn’t mind the intrusion.
The dungeon was busy – even by Saturday’s standards. A convention was in town and followers of the scene flocked in droves to the popular establishment. They had good drinks, good company, and discretion. Master Ankou had been a patron of the dungeon for years and in all his time, he’d never once heard of it mentioned outside its walls.
The deer passed in front of the coyote, bare chest rising and falling quickly with anticipation. Slowly, he eased himself down on the pillow before the dom, resting on his knees and bowing his head.
Master Ankou smirked and lifted a foot to the deer’s cheek. “Yes, I remember you, slave.” He whispered, voice enhanced by the mask’s modulation and cutting through the ambient bass of the club. “I know what you like.” He rotated his foot, drawing his toe claws through the short fur of the stag’s muzzle and pressing his sole pad against the side of his nose.
The slave breathed in the coyote’s scent, back arching. His silken shorts tented and Ankou watched as he fought not to give in to his desire.
“Easy,” the coyote spoke, adjusting his position. Raising his other foot, he placed it against the deer’s chest, moving the foot near his face around to the front, keeping the arch between his toes and sole pad just out of reach of the twitching nose. “Hold your breath.”
The deer complied, eyes closing tightly.
Ankou felt the cervine struggling beneath his foot, the quick beat of his heart tripping over itself as it fought with his will to restrain his lungs. “So close,” he said, flexing the toes before the deer’s face, “do you want it?”
“Please-”
“No, no,” Ankou chastised, pressing the foot harder against the deer’s chest. “I didn’t say you could breathe. Exhale your air. All of it.”
The slave opened his eyes then. Master Ankou could already tell by the shakiness beneath his foot that the male struggled with his need for fresh oxygen. So enamored was he, however, with the scent of the coyote’s toes, the deer obeyed.
Ankou grinned evilly, feeling the warm air passing over his pads and watched with amusement as the cervine before him shook, body moving forward and backward with each desperate beat of his heart. He held his pet there as long as he believed he could, feeling that heart slow to a crawl beneath his sole.
“Breathe,” he said at last, pushing his other foot firm to the deer’s nose, toes splayed.
The stag inhaled graciously, filling his empty lungs with the scent of canine feet. He exhaled heavily and drew in another, deep breath.
Ankou dragged the foot on the slave’s chest down, the sole pad just slightly massaging over the damp spot between his legs. “Good… I love prey who know their place, don’t you?” he asked, turning the foot to the side and cupping his toes around the deer’s length through the fabric of his shorts. “Show me.”
The deer nodded and pushed his face fully against the foot before pressing his tongue against the rough pads, guiding it between each digit. He exhaled sharply as Ankou squeezed his manhood, biting his lip to contain himself as he worked the foot over in his maw.
“You look like you could use release already. Would you like that, slave?”
The deer sucked on one of Ankou’s toe claws, peering up at him through wide eyes as though he didn’t believe him.
“I mean it.” Drawing the foot away from the deer’s shaft, he used his toes to grip at the waistband. Pulling down gently, he helped the deer ease out of the shorts, allowing his member to stand in the open, throbbing with need.
Tearing his foot free from the cervine’s mouth, Ankou brought it alongside his dry foot and captured the male’s shaft between his sole pads. Gently, he squeezed, watching with amusement as his prey looked near to fainting.
“Release.”
On command, the deer gasped, spilling his seed out over the coyote’s feet, coating them with the hot substance. Ankou smiled, knowing already that he was satisfied. He pulled his feet away when he was sure the male was finished, wriggling his toes about and enjoying the feel of the deer’s cum between his pads.
“Leave.”
Immediately the deer stood, looking about the dungeon with no small amount of embarrassment. Pulling his shorts up, he bowed his head, massive antlers casting ominous shadows from the red lights above, and made for the exit.
Master Ankou sat back in the chair, crossing his leg and massaging at his slickened pads with one hand, the other drawing a tablet from within his coat. Pressing a few buttons, he pulled up his documents and input his decision:
·	Subject: 03
·	Species: Deer
·	Age: 36
·	Sex: Male
·	Build: Average
·	Entrant: Approved

~

“What’ll it be, miss?”
“Fuzzy navel- No. Tequila sunrise- Gah. Fuck it. Just give me a glass of scotch. Straight.”
Ankou raised his eyebrows. “Rough night?” he asked, turning to grab a bottle of low dollar scotch. Finding a glass that was mostly clean, he poured the liquor in the cup and sat it before the cougar, scooping up the ten.
“Keep the change. You don’t know the half of it.” She brought the glass to her lips and cursed. Swallowing nearly all the contents in one go, she groaned. “My fucking boyfriend kicked me out of his apartment because I walked in on him and his new fuck toy.”
“Well, fuck,” Ankou agreed, slipping the bill in the register and returning to his position before the feline. “Did you break anything of his on the way out? I would have. Televisions are a popular choice.”
The cougar laughed mid sip, coughing and placing the glass on the bar top. “I should have. I just grabbed my suitcase, threw what I could in, and left. You know,” she paused, pulling a pack of cigarettes from between her breasts. “Can I smoke?”
Ankou flicked his wrist, a silver flip lighter falling from his cuffed sleeves. Leaning forward and striking it alive, he offered the flame.
“Thanks,” she said, putting the cigarette in her mouth and leaning forward to light it. Inhaling, she shook her head and continued, “You know, he was still ‘in’ her while I was packing? Like, what the fuck?”
“Was he knotted?” Ankou asked, quirking an eyebrow.
The cougar exhaled, smoke pluming from her nostrils as she brought the glass back to her lips. “No. He was a hare.” She said the last bit quickly, finishing off the drink and looking away, ruffling her bangs.
Ankou whistled and brought the bottle back, topping off her glass. “On the house.”
“Thanks.” She slammed her fist down. “A fucking hare. I put myself out there for a no good, god damned hare!”
“Could be worse,” Ankou offered, leaning back against the liquor cabinet and licking over his sharp teeth. “He could have been a rabbit.”
The cougar took another drag from her cigarette and held her glass up. “I’ll drink to that. At least he didn’t pass out while fucking me. Prey…” Knocking back the cup, she drank until she was dry. “The real kicker? I don’t even know where I’m going to go.”
“Don’t have a place to yourself?” Ankou asked. “One second.” He padded to the other end of the bar to where an old goat sat. He was a usual and Ankou didn’t need to ask to know what he wanted. Filling a rocks glass with whiskey, he sat the drink before the man and returned to the register, scribbling the order down on his tab.
“No,” the cougar answered when he neared. “I’m a writer. Sci-Fi if you can believe it. I met the prick at a convention panel two years ago. Said he was a fan of mine. We dated for a while,” she dashed her cigarette in the crystal tray and bit her lip, “and then I moved in. Now this.”
Ankou could tell she was close to tears – whether they were from anger, sadness, or both, he couldn’t tell. He leaned in, rested his elbows on the bar top and snorted. “Fuck him. Things will come around. I mean, I assume you didn’t need him before, right?”
“Yeah. It’s just… Fuck. It makes me feel so weak.”
“Weak? Because you got cheated on by some dumb prick who can’t be happy with what he has? I mean, look at you, you’re a great looking girl.” Ankou folded his ears back and straightened, smiling apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
“You’re fine. And you’re right, I am good looking.”
“Great.”
“What?”
“I said ‘great’ looking.”
Ankou caught sight of the cougar’s ears flushing before she turned away. Tapping his knuckles against the bar top, he stepped aside, taking a margarita order from an aardwolf couple that had sat down. As he mixed the drinks, he caught sight of the cougar staring at him and he made a point to put on a show.
Bringing the mixer overhead, he shook it theatrically and whipped it around his back before pouring the margaritas into tall glasses. Fetching a pair of fresh limes, he clipped each to the edge of the salted rims and slid them expertly to the couple.
Ankou swished his tail, taking care to give the scorned lady a clear view of his backside as he refilled the goat’s glass.
“Do you always show off this much?” she asked as he spun around and shuffled backwards towards her.
“Only when I feel like a customer could use a better night.”
The cougar looked down at her fingers, tearing idly at a napkin and sighing. “It’ll be a while before I can say it’s been a good night but… yeah, it’s getting better.”
Ankou snapped his fingers and struck a pose, flexing his nonexistent muscles. That garnered a laugh from the cougar and the coyote allowed himself to join in. “Can I get you another drink?” he asked, holding up the bottle of scotch.
“No, thanks.” She stood and deposited her cigarette box safely where it came from, patting her chest and smiling. “I appreciate the offer though. I’ve got to get to sleep or… whatever. Going to have to go apartment searching tomorrow.”
“Where are you staying?”
“That’s a little forward, barman.” She winked and zipped her coat up.
“I only ask because a friend of mine manages a hotel just down the street. I can give him a call and I’m sure he’d give you a room for less than some seedy last-minute motel would.”
The cougar rocked from foot to foot and Ankou looked down, taking note of how her claws extended and withdrew with each application of weight. His nose twitched at the sight.
“All right, sure. I’ll take you up on that.”
Ankou’s ears perked and he clapped his hands together. “Excellent! I’ll call him now. It’s just a couple blocks to the north. Big red sign. Can’t miss it.”
“Thanks! I’m… glad I came in.” The cougar nodded and turned to exit. She paused at the door, gripping the handle and looking back over her shoulder. With a smile, she blew the coyote a kiss and exited into the cold, night air.
Ankou whistled and loosened his tie. It wasn’t everyday someone came in that could light as much of a fire in him as she had. He all but skipped to the register and pulled out the book he kept track of tabs in. Flipping to the back, he took a pencil and scribbled in:
·	Subject: 04
·	Species: Cougar
·	Age: 28
·	Sex: Female
·	Build: Lean
·	Entrant: Approved

~

“You know the rules or do you need them explained to you?”
“I’ve got it.”
“Sign here.”
Ankou accepted the clipboard from the medic and signed his name on the line waiving the liabilities of the club. His heart beat quickly in his chest as he looked over his possible competitors. He wondered how many others were just as nervous as he was and found himself staring idly at their necks, hoping to catch a glimpse of their carotids.
He waited patiently as the wolf went from person to person, collecting signatures and explaining the terms to those who asked. Some declined the paperwork and were escorted out of the ring by security in striking, black shirts.
By the end, Ankou was one of ten who’d signed up to fight that night. A few of the competitors talked to one another, others stretched and practiced striking the dummies laid out along the outer ring, others still sat by themselves, wringing their hands together. There were veterans and first timers, men and women – the club didn’t discriminate.
As it was, the fights weren’t strictly legal. Sure, the law said that it was all right for them to fight, but the one-way mirrors of the upper levels hinted at the illegal betting that went on behind closed doors. Ankou was aware of the money that flowed through the club and knew that the pounding in his chest could very easily stop if the referee thought his body’s abuse was making more money.
His ears perked as the bell rang, drawing his and his fellow competitors’ attention to the match board. The number they’d been assigned appeared at the top of the sign, flashing to the audience and men in the booths. After what felt like an age, the signal board changed to an appearance not wholly unlike that of a slot machine.
The names spun.
Ankou sat on the edge of his seat, palm pads sweating as the first reel began to slow. When it stopped, his ears laid back and he couldn’t believe what he saw. “I’m first?” The referee stared bullets through him and before he knew it, his feet were moving on their own, padding quietly over the soft mat until he was in the designated arena.
He held a hand up to his bare chest, partially to feel the intense beating of his heart and partially to hide its visibility to his opponents, all of whom watched him closely. He licked his lips and turned his eyes to the board, unblinking.
The second reel began to spin. As it slowed, the coyote’s breathing quickened. When it finally stopped, he blinked with surprise. “Her?” He looked around the room until his eyes fell on his match, a civet girl with tight, lean muscles.
Ankou had entered the club at about the same time as the civet. Originally, he thought her to be a boy – muscled and small breasted as she was – but when she spoke she had a soft, feminine voice. It confused him.
“Hey,” she said as she stepped into the arena, waving and bowing her head.
“Uh, hi.” Ankou tried not to stare. He didn’t relish the idea of a female opponent but had been in the booths up top before and had seen firsthand what could happen to men who underestimated the opposite sex.
They both stared up at the board as the final reel began to spin – the one determining the mode of the fight. Ankou had his hopes set on first hit as he didn’t feel entirely comfortable punching a chick, but he knew there was anything from first hit to first blood to knockout to flatlining. He desperately hoped it wouldn’t be flatlining. While they were contractually obligated to fight once selected – and the club had highly trained doctors working as medics – people often died, their bodies too broken to be revived.
He let out a sigh of relief as the reel stopped on ‘Submission’. No sooner had the method been selected than the countdown had begun.
“Good luck,” the civet said, dropping into an exotic stance Ankou was unfamiliar with.
He swallowed heavily, moving his hands out and bending his knees. “You too.”
They gauged one another carefully as the final seconds burned away on the board. When they hit zero and the horn sounded, the civet rushed forward.
The coyote had just enough time to roll away before a heel drop nailed him in the head. He blocked a flurry of punches that came from seemingly every angle, barely managing to keep his footing as she mixed her thrusts with leg sweeps.
He grit his teeth and threw a punch, his arm being moved aside by the civet’s touch, and was rewarded with a kick to his lower back. He growled and fell forward, the civet planting her foot between his shoulder blades and driving him to the mat.
Ankou had just enough time to block a stomp aimed for his head, catching the civet’s ankle in his grip and yanking her aside. Normally, he’d have relished an opportunity to be so close to a martial artist’s feet, but the girl was relentless. Every attack came without a moment’s pause and the coyote found himself spending his energy just on defense.
He feinted to the right and jumped up, throwing a leg out and catching the civet just beneath the ribs. She fell back, coughing and spun around on one foot, swinging the back of her fist at his head.
Ankou blocked the strike but committed too deep. He saw her opposite fist late and winced as it connected with his jaw, the force behind it sending him falling back over the mat.
It was all she needed.
The civet jumped on his back, wrapping her legs around his midsection as she rode him, arms wrapping around his neck and squeezing tight. Ankou fell to one knee, attempting to shake his assailant off as she constricted the blood flow to his brain. No matter what he tried, her grip on him wouldn’t falter.
In desperation, he put what little strength he had left into his legs, toe claws digging deep into the mat, and threw himself back, slamming and pinning her beneath him. Her grip loosened just enough for him to spin around to face her.
Before he could manage to knock her arms aside, however, the civet gripped him by the throat, thumb digging into his trachea. His yelp was cut off and he grabbed at her arm, attempting to pull himself free to no avail.
With her free hand, the civet began punching Ankou’s chest – the visibility of his heart presenting an easy target – each strike causing the edges of his eyes to flash red. His heart skipped and stuttered, a punch landing between beats, and for a moment the coyote thought he would black out.
“Do you submit?” She asked calmly, releasing her grip on his throat enough to allow him to answer.
“Ye-” She cut him off when he didn’t answer immediately, striking at his heart once more.
“Submit!”
“I submit!” The moment the words left his mouth, he felt himself being rolled helplessly onto his back, room spinning. He struggling with his breaths, his heart fighting to catch its misplaced rhythm.
The civet stood, placing one foot on the coyote’s chest as the horn sounded, calling the round. She stared down at him, licking her lips, barely out of breath. “You’re cute. But this venue just isn’t for you.” She lifted her foot and kicked at the side of his ribs. “You still with us?”
Ankou felt his muzzle being turned and a light being shined in his eyes as the medic looked him over but lacked the energy to respond. He fell in and out of consciousness as the medical team carried him back to the recovery room near the lockers and placed him on a hospital bed. A series of injections and checking of his vitals was the last thing he recalled before succumbing to the darkness.
When he finally came to, he found the room empty. Sitting up in bed, he brought a hand to his head and groaned, knowing it’d be a while before he recovered fully from the beating.
Carefully, he stood and fumbled his way to the lockers. After a brief struggle with his combination, he managed to retrieve his phone and called up his notes:
·	Subject: 05
·	Species: Civet
·	Age: 31
·	Sex: Female
·	Build: Thin
·	Entrant: Accepted

~

“Are you sure I can’t audition with a partner? Don’t you want to know what you’re hiring?” The grey fox stretched his lean body out, showcasing for Ankou how his ribs showed through his shirt when he breathed.
“I’m sure. I just need to get a good look at you and take some pictures.”
“Do I get paid? For the pictures?”
“Of course. For just this session alone you’ll walk out that door with five hundred dollars. Don’t like it? Don’t come back, no questions asked.”
The fox grinned and padded forward. “But are you ‘really’ sure I can’t have a partner?” He reached a hand out and gripped at the photographer’s sheath through his jeans.
Ankou closed his eyes and shuddered. “If only. The boss would kill me if I used a star behind his back, though.”
The boy hummed. “A star. I like the sound of that. Okay! What do you want to see first?”
Ankou drummed his fingers over his camera and chewed on his inner cheek. “Well, we might as well start with the basics. Take your shirt off for me?” He stepped away from the fox and brought the camera to his eye as the vulpine began to strip.
The fox lifted his shirt, exposing his pierced nipples and holding there for Ankou to get a shot before lifting the fabric over his head. He stood, breathing steadily, one hand on his chest, claws tweaking the flesh around his nipple rings.
“Turn?”
The fox complied, lashing the large tail and arching his back, giving Ankou a good look at how the muscles fit his small frame.
“Excellent, now- No.” Ankou looked over the camera and frowned as the fox attempted to remove his pants. “We’ll get there. But first, sit down on the chair there.”
Pouting, the grey complied, collapsing in the overly plush leather and throwing his arms over the back. Ankou took a few more shots, taking care to get several of how the fox’s chest expanded and deflated after breaths.
“Now can the pants come off?” the boy asked, flashing his sharp teeth.
Ankou took a quick picture of the fox’s expression but shook his head. “We have some rather specific customers who buy from us. You might be called on to do specific fetishes. Is this okay?”
The boy didn’t answer with words, instead he scooted deeper into the chair and lifted a leg up, holding the sole of his foot out towards the camera.
“A natural.” Ankou brought the viewfinder back to his eye and caught a handful of images of the boy’s foot, taking care to take angles that allowed the light to display how soft and well-maintained the pads were.
“Do you like that? I take care of ‘all’ of my body, sir.”
“Spread your toes for me?” Ankou asked, changing to a high angle to get a few photos of the tops of the model’s feet. His nose twitched as the fox complied, his heightened coyote senses picking up on the light musk residing between the boy’s digits. He felt an instinctual growl beginning deep in his chest as well as a tingling in his sheath.
“Now can the pants come off?”
Ankou laughed as he stepped away, brushing his hand over his nose in an attempt to ignore the fox’s scent. “Yes. Now the pants can come off.”
“Yay!”
It was clear that the removal of pants was the grey fox’s specialty. The moment Ankou gave the order, he’d sprung to his feet and had his jeans around his ankles. To the coyote’s surprise, the fox wore actual boxers.
“What?” The fox asked, kicking the pants aside.
“Nothing!” Ankou replied, snapping pictures of the model. “I’m just surprised you’re not wearing something a little more… revealing.”
“Ugh, it’s my parents.” The fox rolled his eyes, an act that Ankou was happy to have on camera. “They only buy me what ‘a man’ should wear. I’m hoping with this money to buy my own wardrobe!”
“Well you look great either way.” Ankou nosed the model’s direction. “Would you mind removing the rest?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Sticking his tongue out at the photographer, the grey slipped the boxers off and tossed them aside. He stood then with his hands on his hips, his length nearly full mast.
“Impressive,” Ankou mumbled, falling to one knee for a macro shot. “Do you, um, think you can make your knot fill out for me?”
Giggling, the fox lashed his tail and nodded. The bashfulness took Ankou off-guard but he kept clicking the capture button all the same. The way the vulpine moved, breathed, touched himself – it sent shivers down Ankou’s spine. He knew from the moment the fox walked in that he was satisfied; the pictures were just a formality.
Trailing a claw around his nipple, tugging slightly on the ring, the fox worked at his shaft, stroking his soft, padded hand up and down the length. After a few strokes, the fox’s member grew slick with pre and, sure as nature designed, the knot began to swell.
“Nice and slow,” Ankou whispered, mesmerized by the quick throbbing. “Very good…”
“Do-” The fox yipped and threw his head back. “Do you think I can finish?”
There was such need – such desperation in the model’s voice that Ankou didn’t have the heart to deny him.
“If you’d like. The pay remains at five hundred, though.”
“Of course.” Biting his lip, the fox stroked faster. “Where…?”
“Anywhere you’d like.”
“Now?”
“Sure.”
With a howl unbefitting of his species, the fox fell back, shooting waves of hot seed out over the floor, granting Ankou an impressive set of pictures. Panting, the model fell back against the chair, ears askew. To the coyote’s delight, he saw that in the throes of orgasm, the fox’s heart had grown visible at the apex – he took a picture even though he knew it wouldn’t translate.
“How was that?” The fox asked, licking his fingers and fighting to slow his breathing. “Sorry about the mess and… I promise I can last longer. I’ve just been so pent up lately. Never a damn minute to myself and-”
“You were excellent. I don’t think there’s an angle here I could have gotten better.”
“Do you think I’ll have the job?”
“I don’t see why not, if you want it.”
“Fuck, yes, I want it.” The fox yawned and rested his chin in his opposite hand.
For the sake of completion, Ankou took a picture of the fox’s content expression. “Before you agree, however, I should mention that it’s not all foot stuff our clients fetishize about.”
“I already came.”
Ankou laughed and lowered the camera. “No more pictures today. I just want to talk. Some of our patrons like things like… whips and chains-”
“Kinky and kinkier.”
“…Sometimes we cater to the noose play community as well.”
That seemed to discomfort the grey and for the first time since entering, he looked nervous. “I don’t know about that. I mean, I can’t really spend the money if I’m dead.”
“It’s all staged,” Ankou said quickly. “What do you think we are? A snuff company?”
The fox chuckled and looked over to his clothes. “Anything else?”
“Oh, the usual. Medical play, roleplay, straight vanilla fucking-”
“Straight? Ew!”
Ankou smirked. “Poor choice of words. I won’t ask you to fuck any chick unless you want to. Otherwise from here on out it’ll be you and guys. And hey, if the noose scares you, just say no. You’ll get paid for every video you do and can get out whenever you want. It’s your life; your body. Signing a contract with us doesn’t rid you of your rights, after all.”
The grey nodded in understanding. “That’s a relief. I’ve heard horror stories online of these kinds of meetups and I thought for a second…” he blinked the thought away and hopped up from the chair. Looking around the apartment, he asked, “Do you think I could shower before I go? I don’t really want to go home smelling of, well, yeah.”
Ankou grinned. “Of course. Shower’s down the hall and to the right. Oh, before I forget.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of twenties kept together by a rubber band. “Here’s to the first of many, eh?”
The fox accepted the money and deposited it in his jeans pocket. “I hope so!” Winking, he bundled his clothes in his arms and skipped off to the shower.
Ankou nodded. “And that makes six.” Slapping the camera against his hand he stalked over to his desk and fired up his laptop. Holding his finger to the scanner, he waited for the prompt, logged into his files, and finished the final entry:
·	Subject: 06
·	Species: Grey Fox
·	Age: 20
·	Sex: Male
·	Build: Twink?
·	Entrant: Approved

~

“This is Ankou.” The coyote stood staring outside his window, drink in one hand, phone in the other. “I sent you the six I found.”
“I saw. Are they better than the last batch?”
“Who are you talking to? Absolutely they’re better. Have I ever failed you?” He laughed and took a drink before sitting down in his chair and putting his feet up on the desk.
“No, you haven’t. You’re the best damned thing that’s happened to this company.”
“What can I say? I love my job.” The coyote curled and uncurled his toes, remembering his night with the deer, the memory making his spine tingle.
“Did anyone seem suspicious?”
“If they expect anything they’re not showing it. It’s been a week for most of them. Be careful with the civet, though. She packs a hell of a punch.”
“Very good. I’ll start sending the team out tomorrow.”
Ankou scratched at his chest, finding himself distracted by a live police chase on television. “When do you think they’ll be ready for the show?”
“Call me in one week.”
“One week. Got it.”
“Until then.”
The phone went silent, leaving Ankou alone with his thoughts and the news. He scratched at his chin, imagining all the possibilities and interactions between his players. Unlike others who worked for the company, Ankou always liked meeting his contestants personally – it made the show much more interesting. Being able to capture a person’s fear before the end, knowing a little about them; in many cases having felt their heart beating against his palm… it was to die for.
He laughed aloud at his own bad pun.
The police chase took a turn for the worse as a cruiser came up alongside the suspect’s vehicle and an officer shot through the window. As the car swerved into a ditch and the news anchors began apologizing for what was seen, Ankou was reminded of one, important truth.
He held his palm over his rapidly beating heart and took another drink, inhaling deeply and enjoying the feel of his lungs working inside his lithe chest.
“Momento mori…”