Where Mandy crouched in the darkness, she could smell their
apprehension. The fall breeze carried it to her; made her whiskers dance as she took it
in. Circumstancial, but if she swore to it, admissible. She was, after all, a cop.
"Can you see me?" she hissed to Tom.
"For Christ's sake, Mandy, now's not the time," he growled.
He glanced nervously at the two humans under the dock lights, and offered, "I can
hardly see you in the shadows; they sure as hell can't."
She nodded. Seconds passed. "You're sure?" she demanded.
She could barely see Tom's face, but she felt his eyes at her throat.
"If you're that worried about it, shave off all your fur. Either that, or quit the
force."
"Thanks for being so understanding," she snarled.
"We haven't got time for this..." he warned her. Mandy
grumbled; crouching lower, she glanced around at the other puddles of darkness encroaching
on the singular halogen cast sanctuary. Humans were like that. There was nothing they
feared like they feared the dark.
"I just don't think I'm made for stake outs, that's all; not the
nighttime ones "
"Enough."
She was albino, all except for the saving grace of her right eye, which
was pale blue. At least that was something. The uniform was black, all right, but not much
help since it only covered her chest, arms, and calves -- still, it was more than most
zarnicans wore. But it left vast white patches of Mandy out for all to see. Especially the
none too dull eyes of these overdressed, dark fearing humans.
Tom, on the other hand, was a typical, muddy, non descript brownist
grey, perfectly formed into the shadow. Even Mandy couldn't be sure where he ended and the
darkness began. The same was true for most of the other twelve or so zarnicans pressed
into the shadows around the jetty.
She took a calculated risk and checked the chronometer stitched into
the glove on her left arm. It blinked conspiratorially to life for her and then
extinguished itself. Tom caught the red glow; she felt his hand slap down over her wrist.
"Goddamn you," he hissed. "You tell me next time you're
gonna do that."
"Alright, I'm sorry," she agreed. "But it's getting on
nearly an hour past the drop off time."
"So? We both know they'll be here as long as it takes, if that
means staying till dawn. And so will we, unless we hear otherwise."
Mandy sighed quietly. "Yeah."
The steamy breath of the bulky human men soared away from them in the
cool late autumn air. They paced back and forth impatiently, glancing around, peering into
the blackness for evidence of just the sort of welcoming committee that was actually
there. But their eyes were accustomed to the light above them, so they saw nothing. There
was a moment when one of them stared right at her that Mandy felt sure she was about to
pass water. But he turned away and let his gaze cast across the Strait of Georgia to the
blazing lights of the city of Vancouver, where he had most likely come from. More
distantly, to the south, glowed Seattle. And that was where the speedboat was coming from,
no doubt making its way up Haro Strait even now.
"I wish I had a sandwich or something," Tom muttered out of
the blue. He was impatient too. "This shit shoulda been over ages ago. Fucken humans.
You can't count on them even to break the law on time."
"They're not all bad," Mandy said, eyeing the steaming,
rumpled human refuse soiling their island. Tom snorted with contempt. Mandy tried to shake
off the feeling, remembering that there were still hundreds of humans left on Vancouver
Island. Some of them, even, in the police force. In fact, they were largely responsible
for setting up the sting that would all come together tonight if only the evidence sailed
in. But it was hard not to hate the ones she didn't know, in the light of history.
The moonless sky flickered softly above them, inviting sleep, retiring
responsiblity. One more irritation. Mandy grunted.
"What?" Tom queried.
She shifted her weight. "I'm getting cramps in my legs."
"Stretch 'em."
"I'd like to," she aimed sarcastically. "But waving
white legs around might just catch someone's eye."
Tom sighed. He sat down out of his crouch. "Look, get behind me
then. I'll lie in front in you and if you're careful you can stretch without worrying
about whether they can see you or not. Okay?"
"That's a great idea. Thanks." She lay down behind him and
carefully extended her legs, one at a time, stretching them till the toes splayed apart.
The stiffness broke like glass and she felt filled with new energy.
"You done yet?" Tom urged.
"Not quite," she whirred, and gently peeled the glove off of
her right hand. The cool air rushed in to embrace it; she wiggled her fingers, free. She
pushed up behind Tom and draped her arm across his waist; reaching, she pushed her
fingertips through his fur to his scrotum.
His balls reacted, and so did he. "What are you doing?" he
spat, too amazed to move.
"Just stretching," she purred in his ear. She pushed her
muzzle into it and slowly, hotly tongued the bare pink flesh within.
"Oh, Jesus," he said, "don't do this. We're in the
middle of fucken stake out..." But the whiff of his musk even then was in her
nostrils; she laughed to herself. He wanted this. Maybe even needed it. His cock was
already making an appearance. This would be easy. Her bare hand slinked up the shaft and
closed around it; she began to slowly jerk him off.
His change of heart was plain. "Oh, yeah," he moaned.
"Oh, yeah." She felt his tail press firmly against her mound; she lifted her leg
a little so that it could press directly against her wetness. With surprising agility, he
rubbed his tail against her clit, and she was soon gasping in the ear she meant to be
tonguing.
"Fuck me," she demanded, finally. Insistently. "FUCK
ME."
He didn't need much convincing. He turned to face her, glancing over
his shoulder and shedding his gloves as he did. Mandy unbuttoned her jacket and threw her
tits open to him; he went for them like a starving child. She raised her right thigh and
dangerously threw it over his legs; with a single swift thrust he drove his cock home.
Mandy gasped; it was good to have a cock inside her again. It had been six or seven hours
since the last one. It was hard to be quiet, as he slobbered bestially on her tits, so she
shut her eyes and concentrated on the advance and retreat of Tom's cock, ever faster, ever
deeper.
"I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come," he growled mindlessly.
Mandy felt the warm waves of orgasm begin to lap at her own loins as well. She had lost
all track of time, but they couldn't have been fucking for much more than a minute or two
when he abruptly stopped and froze.
"What is it?" she gasped.
"Fuck!" he cried, grabbing for his gloves and pulling himself
off of her and out of her in one magnificent leap. He spun in the air, landing facing the
dock, where even now the dark form of the awaited speedboat cut through the mirrored light
of the strait. Realizing she had only a few seconds, Mandy burrowed her finger up between
her legs and went for the trigger: the dominoes toppled, and Mandy drooped, quaking in
silent orgasm. Catching her breath, she rose from the wet spot she'd left on the pavement
to crouch beside Tom.
Catching sight of Tom's still swollen presentation, she reached out to
remedy it. He slapped her away. Stung, but understanding, she said, "You'd better
take care of that before things get going."
"They're already going," he murmured. "There'll be lots
of time to take care of it afterwards." Mandy looked up. Tom was right. Cardboard
boxes were already being hastily unloaded from the tiny craft.
"Any second now..." predicted Tom, and he was right. Almost
at once an electric bolt from a sharpshooter's gun lept from a rooftop and shattered the
boat's motor.
"Now!!" came the command from some other corner of darkness.
And the black suited zarnicans, guns drawn, swarmed from their hiding places to surround
the three panicking figures. One of the two they'd been watching reached into his vest.
"Freeze it, fat ass!!" demanded an officer, his gun leveled
at the human.
"Real slow," barked the lieutenant. "Guns, knives, out.
On the ground. Reeeal slow, or we slice you up for hamburger."
Carefully, the three humans complied, slowly and gently placing their
weapons on the ground. Meanwhile officers tore into the packages that lay scattered on the
dock. "Pure fuderan crystals, lieutenant!" one of them called. "Must be
fifty or sixty kilos. About eight million bucks worth in Vancouver!"
The lieutenant nodded, whiskers twitching with glee at the stroking
he'd get for this one. He waved several officers in to disarm the suspects. Mandy's heart
pounded in her throat as she moved forward to collect one of the oversized weapons. She
carried it back to where Tom stood, covering her.
"Oh, shit," Tom whispered.
"What is it?" Mandy said, spinning to face the humans. She
saw nothing but the three men, hands raised. They, on the other hand, were looking at Tom.
She looked back at him.
Tom moaned, not once but a couple of times. As he stood there, eyes
tightly shut, both arms steadying his gun at the humans, his cock began firing off long,
ropy streams of cum. It was quite impressive. Silence reigned, even seconds after Tom had
spent his clip. All guns were still trained on the humans, but all eyes were on Tom and
the large white globs at his feet.
Someone snickered. "First arrest, Tom?"
ZARNICAN FACTS
The "zarnicans" (etymology unknown) are actually
anthropomorphic rats created by a particularly advanced molecular geneticist in the
People's Republic of China in the early 1970s, as a source of expendable slave labor.
Their existence was unknown except to a handful of scientists and military officials until
June 17, 2006, when several thousand overtook the camp of their incarceration in
Manchuria. Approximately 8500 escaped China in three freighters (one of which was
destroyed before it could leave Chinese waters) and a handful of other smaller craft. A
second freighter began sinking during the voyage across the Pacific, and all who could be
saved were taken onto the third. Obscenely overcrowded, the third freighter went aground
off Vancouver Island on July 19. Prior to this, and for some time afterwards, smaller
craft arrived in Australia, the west coast of the United States, and countries of
southeast Asia. Initially a curiosity in Japan, they quickly became unwelcome and were
returned to China, where the Chinese government, officially "unaware" of the
existence of the zarnicans, made a show of providing lavish recompensation for them.
A few happy hundred zarnicans lived on in China, therefore, with little said of the
uncounted hundreds of thousands suspected to be living in slavery elsewhere in the
country. But soon hundreds and even thousands were following the example of the first few
and making their way out of China to the West, where they received a cordial if bewildered
welcome.
The majority of them were pressed into small agricultural communities.
But the initial 6700 who landed on Vancouver Island were increasingly joined by others,
until by 2019, with immigration and natural increase (and the increasing egress of humans
from the 'rat infested' island), there were more zarnican residents than human. At this
point, the zarnicans, who had been pressing for political rights, experienced a final set
back when the Supreme Court interpreted the Constitution Act, 1982 as being incompatable
with the issue of political rights for non humans. In 2021, a zarnican provisional
government, backed by force of arms in a more or less bloodless coup, took over control of
the island. Making their capitol at Nanaimo, they declared their independence of both
Canada and British Columbia, changed the name of Victoria to Zarnica, and deemed
themselves the Republic of Nanaimo. Humans already living on Vancouver Island were
"invited" to continue to live there as full citizens, but all but a few thousand
left the island over the next five years. The new republic also laid claim to most of the
islands between Vancouver and Washington state, and, over the next several years, slowly
did populate them with little real resistance.
Neither Canada nor the province of British Columbia recognized the new
regime, and nor did any other government. But there was pressure at the international
level for the zarnicans to have some sort of homeland of their own (to contain them,
essentially), and that it might as well be Vancouver Island. Unofficially, Canada cut its
losses and gave up on any real plan to recover the island. De facto, if not yet de jure,
Canada and most other govenments pursue relations with the Republic of Nanaimo at a level
just below official diplomacy.
Zarnicans, on average, stand about 4'6" and weight 50 75 lbs. when
full grown. They are sexually mature at age 6, physically mature at 10, and live on
average between 45 60 years in the West (under conditions of slavery in China, the typical
lifespan is approximately 12 15). They have a gestation Įperiod of four months, and
usually give birth to one offspring per pregnancy, although the incidence of fraternal
twins among zarnicans is about three times higher than the incidence among humans.
Zarnicans and humans are fully interfertile, and hybrids are already to be seen. It is
expected that over the next several centuries, one form or the other will absorb the other
into its gene pool. Scientists are at odds concerning which form will prove the eventual
victor.
Zarnicans typically live in socialistic communities; either in mixed
groups or as individuals -- solitary males and solitary females with their offspring. As
yet they have nothing like marriage, nor are they likely to in future. They have
tremendous sexual appetites and their relationships tend to be spur of the moment and free
wheeling, often with little regard for privacy. This is probably a feature deliberately
introduced into their natures by their designers in order to keep their numbers up, even
under extreme conditions.
Physically somewhat more hardy than humans, they are quick moved,
lithe, and rather stronger than their size would suggest, although they are not as strong
as adult humans. They display all colorations and body patternings one might expect to
encounter among rats. A black market exists in the sale and enslavement of zarnicans for
domestic and sexual purposes, and, proportedly, their pelts are even being used in the
production of garments and accessories in some countries.