Scent of a Cheetah

Back breaking slave labor disguised as basic training for the Simian military. Indentured servitude with the lash for a wage, and a food bowl once a day as pay. The Simians had set out to break him and kill him, in that order, so his friends and the Visitors would submit to the greater Simian will. Shomron had known it since the first minute in uniform. As weeks became months, the issue clearly became who could break whom, physically and mentally.

There were things you learned, one way or another. The Simians taught one way, and your fellow conscripts taught another. Over the course of his first days, Shomron had learned the meaning of the word "Construct". In it he discovered a lifelong label, but within it he was brave enough to seek answers to his life's deepest questions.

He had no memories of a Mother or Father simply because he never had either one. The realization left no tearing holes in his soul, simply because he could feel no sense of loss in loosing something he never had. Instead, he set his mind on the facts of his moment. He was alive, strong, intelligent and vital. This could be his bedrock, and would allow him to set his own self image. He would stay alive, while others around him would die and suffer worse things than death.

Life became this moment, and the moments to come, not some sweet, cloying dream of a past that he had never lived.

Shomron's physical awakening had come in those tunnels that he helped to dig. Weeks and then months of hauling carts of loose rock brought out the physique that his youth seemed to deny him for so long. Spurts of growth seemed to lengthen his body, while the work packed it with a strength he'd never dreamed of a year ago.

But it was what the young cheetah learned from his peers and fellow prisoners that set him free, even behind barbed wire and guard posts.

The Simians were strict about race and rank, so the feline barracks held a mixed population of Fur-bearers, segregated by gender and species. But since he was the only male cheetah, luck and Simian laxity quartered him with the male lion population.

Shomron was astonished to discover that he was younger by almost two years than the next youngest in his group, a Construct lion whose given name was Sylmar.

It was to his first camp friend and lower bunk mate that Shomron owed his second awakening.

Barracks life was like the Simians themselves. Crude, and for the most part, dirty. They would return from the tunnels at dusk marching into the barracks, one labor group at a time. There, they were forced to strip off their work uniforms. Then the entire group would be herded into the showers by whip wielding Simian guards. There was no hope of privacy or modesty, so, like every one else, Shomron simply gave them up as expedient to the moment, and staying alive.

But for Shomron, the imperative was different. Looking at other males, and being looked at by other males stirred feelings and sensations in him. These feelings were not new or strange to him, for he'd felt them for Shalimar the summer before. That memory caused the young cat to blush a bit, for he'd never had the courage to say so to his best friend. Before that camping trip ended, fate and history had intervened. Shomron pushed what he felt into the background. It was, after all, no time to think of personal pleasures.

The Simian attempt to divide and conquer both he and Shalimar was well laid. He was a Construct, and could not refuse service in the military. Shalimar had escaped by sheer brain power, so the cheetah knew, deep inside that the Simian plans would come to nothing.

But that did nothing to alter the fact that Shomron was here, and for him, there would be no escape or excuse, either from this place or the loneliness that was Shomron's most constant foe.

It was ironic that this awful place could stir such feelings as pleasure in him, but the young cheetah was also smart enough to understand that the mind had to seek some escape from the numbing effects of their slavery and surroundings.

Shomron discovered that his discreet glances were welcomed by some, because the young cat's gaze was always one of true admiration of form rather than the leering suggestion of some sexual fantasy.

Sylmar had been open and friendly from the moment the two had decided to bunk together. The now elder lion had taken the youngster in tow his first few days, talking to him freely, and fighting gently in the jostle of the food line to make sure the younger cat had enough to eat. Sylmar was the perfect example of something that Shomron leaned quickly and would remember always. Size is no indication of power, physical or otherwise. Sylmar was half Shomron's height, with a heavy frame. His thick, almost shaggy fur covered dense layers of muscle, strapped onto the heavy feline by back breaking hours of rock crushing. Sylmar seemed to glide rather than walk in a rather squat bipedal stance which conspired to make Sylmar appear shorter in stature, but all the more imposing for his well sculpted body. At times, he seemed to Shomron to be a thick stump in a high forest of Fur-Bearers.

The two stuck close together each day, usually working back to back with pick and sledgehammer. Shomron had daily demonstrations of the physical side of Sylmar, because the lion liked using one hammer in each hand. He could fill a cart with rock while others were still taking off-balance swings with a single hammer. As the day ended, and they were shackled for the march back, Shomron always found Sylmar's paw stretched up to his shoulder. When they marched into the barracks to strip, Sylmar was beside him again, proving that a lack of clothing never meant a lack of dignity, nor a sense of shame. The shower room had simple wooden stalls, ten in a row, each with multiple water jets. With twenty in a group, that meant two to a stall, to share a half a minute of cold water and as much cleaner as four paws could manage to apply to two bodies.

Sylmar noticed the young Cheetah's glances. When Shomron tried to avert his eyes, Sylmar smiled warmly, and in the bracing cold of the water spray where no Simian could overhear, Sylmar spoke without ridicule or wrath.

"Go ahead, look.. I don't mind. Nothing to be ashamed of." The powerful lion said softly.

"I.. You're.. handsome.. Shomron stammered. Even the chill of the water could not wash away the heat he felt.

"Thank you. So are you. It's all right." Sylmar replied, his amber eyes gleaming with caring and sensitivity.

"Do you like males, too?" Shomron asked. The paws that rested on Sylmar's shoulders shook not with cold but with nerves.

Sylmar's paws found Shomron's and with a gentle touch, The lion placed the cheetah's paws squarely on his thick pectorals. The power of Sylmar's chest and the thickness of his fall of mane fur carried a wonderfully solid and steady heat.

"Yes, and I like you most." Sylmar's whisper was as gentle as velvet, and as strong as his heart.

Shomron put his head on his paws, and a warm trickle of tears tempered the flow of water down the drain.

The shower was as short as Shomron's revealing moment. The two cats felt the flow of icy water stop, and a sharp Simian voice commanded them to exit. The two cats squared themselves and marched from the wet stall. The larger group of them were shoved and herded toward the room's single door, where a single Simian stood to one side. Abruptly, the Simian pushed a rough square of crude material into each set of passing paws. The thin towels could do no more than sweep surface water off of fur and onto the floor of the barracks. The rest of grooming was left to paws and the brush. Brushes were the single piece of property that the Fur-Bearers were allowed. Many of them, including Shomron, found this interval their only momentary escape from the grind of the day.

The wet group of felines was scarcely clear of the shower room before another up was being led in. The felines needed almost no urging to dash for their bunks and the single pegs in each headboard. Most of their brushes were custom designed and made. Shomron's fell to his paw, and began stoking his wet chest fur. It felt so good that the cheetah almost didn't notice Sylmar land on his bunk, to sit beside him as the lion combed out his mane.

Shomron looked over at his friend, slightly dumb struck. Sylmar's wet fur was sculpted to his formidable physique. As Sylmar combed his thick thatch of golden brown mane, he became even more handsome to Shomron, and it showed in the young cheetah's glance.

Sylmar smiled, and shook his head and shoulders playfully. His mane was like a flow of warm gold, rich, thick fur tipped in brownish black, that seemed to reflect the sum of the Lion's gentle power. Sylmar casually brushed it out to fullness as it dried. Shomron fought a sudden impulse to sink his arms in it up to the elbows as it mantled the rolling leonine shoulders.

As Shomron watched and wished, Sylmar threw his shoulders back sharply, his powerful chest rising in a moment of drama beneath the cascade of mane fur. Shomron felt his guts turn to water and puddle in his hind paws.

"Do my back, while I do yours?"

"Hum?" inquired the thoroughly hypnotized cheetah. The young cat belatedly came out of his revere, understanding how the bird felt staring at the snake.

Sylmar smiled and took his brush, made of stiff horsehair, sculpted into a handsome black onyx handle that fit the shape of his paw. The lion drew himself up all the way onto the bunk, and moved to kneel behind his friend. Both of them knew that the Simian guards would not disturb the fur bearers for some time. Some of the guards had complained about the smell of wet fur. Shomron also knew that many Simians been snapped at or worse for bothering the big cats while they were wet.

Sylmar's paw and brush started at Shomron's neck, and simply pulled down, evenly, slowly and gently.

Shomron let out a gentle, sensual chirp that was the heart and soul of all he could feel and dream. Sylmar beamed, and gently sleeked the brushed back fur with a gentle paw touch, then reached up Shomron's long spine for another stroke.

Sylmar needed two more strokes to reduce Shomron to a seemingly boneless toy cheetah that seemed more like a doll. Sylmar slid one paw under the cheetah's arm and a thick arm around Shomron's torso to hold him up!

Sylmar purred richly as he held Shomron. The young speed cat was just beginning to answer the biochemistry stirring changes deep inside him. Sylmar knew that inside of the fleeting year, Shomron's natural gifts and ability would be frightening. Now, Sylmar's brush and his free paw slid over Shomron's back, sweeping the last vestiges of water from the massive and well defined V of muscles between the cheetah's shoulder blades. As Shomron relaxed, Sylmar slowly laid him down in the bunk. The stout but limber lion used his acrobatic skill to slide around the long body in the bunk. Sylmar let his brush and paws sweep Shomron's lean shoulders and wonderful statuesque torso. In ten minutes, Shomron was dry, fluffy and fast asleep under the thin blankets, his purr a sleepy whisper of delight.

Sylmar slid down the bed post of the bunk and folded himself into a cross legged position on the thin mattress as he brushed himself dry. The lion's nose and the roof of his mouth reminded him that the soft bristles still carried Shomron's scent. The golden male was not surprised as he felt his lionhood begin to respond. Sylmar let his eyes and muzzle slide closed, as male cheetah scent turned his expression from one of unintended ferocity into an expression of pure pleasure and arousal.

I was right, Sylmar thought to himself, Shomron is a breeder.. I wonder if he knows. He's probably too young..

Sylmar felt this chest tighten, his heart pounding explosively in his ears, as the young cheetah's pheromone slowly took possession of him. Sylmar went along willingly, on a wonderful cloud of heat and strength. He let himself lay back, so wonderfully warm that the traces of water left in his fur seemed to become steam and vapors.

He.. He's...soooo...potent..

Sylmar flexed his paw, allowing the brush to slide off and lay beside his leg. Free of its burden the lion's paw traced up his strong thigh, and slowly explore his sheath. His digits were shorter, and unpadded down their stubby lengths. As the male began a fine, light touch, fur met sensitive skin, and the muscle beneath. It took only seconds for his pleasure to multiply, edged by a deep and wonderful flash of fire that seemed to sweep him farther up into a vortex of pure, and more primal, pleasure.

Above him, Shomron awoke quietly as he felt the frame of the bunk bed seem to twist sideways. The frames, like the bed slats, were thin wood, just well enough made to serve their crude purpose. That meant that every time one rolled over in bed, above or below, the other could feel it. But this motion was different somehow.

Shomron rolled gently to his left, toward the wall. He had made a good choice in the top bunk, now a splendid choice because of who lay below. Shomron had discovered weeks ago that if he rolled to the wall, there was enough space between the rough hewn frame of his bunk and the wall to let him peer down into the other bunk. If the lean young cat laid at what might be an uncomfortable angle for anyone without his whip-like spine, his field of view got wider. Shomron could see almost all of Sylmar's bunk. This discovery had given him many evenings of warmth, as he watched Sylmar brush and groom himself. Shomron's feelings for his leonine friend had begun here, but as Shomron rolled over this time, his intent was to watch and wonder.

Sylmar was there. He lay on his back, the thin bed covers tossed into a pile near the foot of his bunk. Shomron watched transfixed, as Sylmar bent his legs at his knees, pressing the bottoms of his hind paws deep into the mattress. Then, the peeping cheetah saw one of those wonderfully strong paws trace up over Sylmar's side, and linger at the lion's sheath, stroking deeply and gently along the leonine penis. It slid easily out of the heavy, well defined sheath that protected and now, helped extend it. Sylmar took his tip into a gentle digit squeeze, and Shomron watched from above as the young golden lion flexed, extending more of himself to the pleasant touch.

Shomron had never seen quite so much of Sylmar, although the ice cold showers didn't help much. There had been times though. Shomron enjoyed the brushing, and more than one of his evenings under the thin blankets had been warmed by the vision of Sylmar, totally relaxed, and unashamedly male as Shomron had combed his mane.

Now, Shomron watched his friend from a new perspective. Shomron shifted, uncomfortable not for what he could see but for the hardness and pressure he felt building at his own middle. The young cheetah turned over, and saw a solid bulge. He looked down for a moment, and saw his own sheath standing erect from the soft fur of his groin. The sight emboldened Shomron, who felt a surge of heat wash over him, along with his hormone based daring. The lanky cat rolled over easily, rising on his knees, and then unwound his body from the bunk. He grabbed the thin foot board of the bed set and swept down onto the floor at the foot of Sylmar's bunk. It had taken hardly longer than the thought for his reflexes to perform the deed. Sylmar was now so deep into pleasure that his thrusting hips and powerful legs made the thin wood of the bunk beds creak and crack, as the bed frame twisted under Sylmar's powerful pleasure. Shomron dropped quickly and steathfuly, flattening himself as if to slide himself under the bed. Inste ad, the cheetah went crab wise on four paws rather than two feet, and slid as smoothly as quicksilver to Sylmar's bedside. He rose on his knees, as he had on the bunk above, but this time, his head and upper body were so close to Sylmar that the cheetah's slow, nearly panted breath ruffled the tips of Sylmar's gorgeous mane. Shomron steadied himself, lightly placing shaking paws on the frame of the bunk where Sylmar lay.

Sylmar never stopped, nor slowed. His body was driving as the powerful male lion put as much strength into his pleasure as he did his labor. A deep growl built from the golden throat, adding a deeper vibration to the quaking bed frame. Sylmar's handsome head rolled gently toward Shomron, and leonine eyes as golden as Sylmar's coat opened slowly. The light of bliss in them made Shomron's heart skip a beat. Sylmar was hardening fast. Shomron could see the lion's full shaft now, thick and lightly coated with fine fur. Sylmar's erection was three paw fingers across, and gently curved. As Sylmar's strong paw swept over it, his slowing motion was as gently hypnotic has the flash of his eyes or the ripple of his muscles. The lion shaft twitched deeply, and Shomron watched as Sylmar's shaft issued several drops of a clear liquid. Sylmar's quick fingers caught the fluid, and with two full strokes, spread the droplets over the tip and body of his shaft. Sylmar moaned gently, edged with a light but deep growl. His paw seemed to move quicker, but Shomron could see the flex of the powerful paws as Sylmar increased the pressure on his shaft.

Shomron felt the breath squeezed for his chest and throat. Each succeeding breath was harder now, almost as if Sylmar had clamped a body lock on the cheetah's chest. Sylmar's body answered the call to pleasure with the same smoothness that it met work. The lion's hips slowed but his thrusts built as his paws moved up and down his length. His powerful legs unbent, and as Sylmar lay flat on the mattress once more, every fine and deep shape and contour of his fur showed his body tightening. Sylmar's hind paws showed their claws. They stayed out as an easy ripple made Sylmar's calf and thigh muscles seemed to tense and leap up under the golden pelt. standing out like thick slabs of chiseled stone. Sylmar's paw work quickened with the depth of his arousal. Suddenly, a moment in time flashed before Shomron's eyes. Like all vivid moments of emotion, Shomron saw it in what seemed to be slow motion, and for the rest of his life, he would remember it the same way.

Sylmar seemed to freeze. His magnificent body still for a moment. The spray of thick, gelatinous white came a moment later, with such a deep force that it lifted Sylmar's body from the bed. The wave of white splashed over the stout lion's body, most of the wetness spattering into Sylmar's mane, and splashing onto his forehead. A few drops shot onto the dry unfinished wood of the head board, leaving darker wet spots on the lighter wood. Sylmar shook with the potent pleasure of it, and laid still once more. He let go of his foot long penis as it still dripped pearl like drops of white into the amber fur of his loins. Sylmar was still fully erect, curved deeply and unashamedly male as the young lion smiled at his cheetah friend. Sylmar's claws retracted, as his body released the last of it's splendid tension. Golden eyes full of a soft, satisfied light fixed Shomron in their gaze.

"Thank You, Shomron.." Sylmar whispered with a mix of husky growl and purr. Then, Sylmar reached out, weaving his clean paw digits thru Shomron's chestfur. The lion's touch transmitted his pure joy almost directly thru the lanky youth, as if grounding the energy of the same thunderbolt that was Sylmar's bliss.

Shomron was utterly stunned. It was as if his entire life had frozen for yet another moment in time. He tried to breathe and think at the same time, and succeeded only in doing half of each.

"You'd better get to bed. The Simians will be back soon. I can't wait for tomorrow morning. I could use a shower."

This time, it was Shomron who smiled.

As the young cheetah rose from his knees at the bedside, he felt a sudden unexpected touch. The same leonine paw that had found his chest fur took a firm hold on something much easier to reach. Sylmar gave him a firm but momentary squeeze. Shomron inhaled softly, and felt his knees weaken for just a moment. Startled, he looked down, and noticed his own erection. His shaft was long and hard enough to catch Sylmar's attention for just a moment as he rose. He managed an odd step back and sideways. Shomron was still fully enlarged as he climbed the foot board of the bunk bed once again. This time, it was Sylmar who could smile gently at the view. The young lion glanced down at the floor where Shomron had knelt. A broad, thick, puddle spread slowly and darkly across the bare, unfinished wood floor. The full, pleasant scent of male cheetah, sumptuous and strong, wafted from it into Sylmar's nose. The golden lion smiled, pulling the blankets up around himself so the Simians could not see the evidence of his pleasure. Sylmar lay back, thinking to himself that tonite would be filled with pleasure that would last as long as the scent of Shomron lingered.