Frankie squinted her eyes in distaste. While out prowling in the city center, the canine cross managed to duck in with a class of cubs around her age on a field trip to the local museum. She thought it would be a grand opportunity to satisfy her appetite – dozens of horny young tweens, all from out of town. She couldn’t resist, all she had to do was blend in. But now that she was inside the lobby, the whole place felt . . . stale. Stuffy. Academic. It was desperately in need of some fresh air.

She followed the group of schoolcubs as they meandered around the exhibits like a flock of sheep. She spared a few glances to the exhibits themselves, lots of broken statues of ancient bull-people and primitive pigfolk, skeletons of muscular reptilians, and paintings of winged humanoids with smooth skin in unnaturally vibrant colours. Everything seemed to have tusks, claws, spikes, or a combination of all three.

It was far more interesting to look at the cubs themselves, their reactions to seeing ‘classical’ nudity, gazing on the bones of a potential distant ancestor, or being lectured by a museum guard pointing at a sign that said “no flash photography”. Among the groups she honed in on one boy in particular – a feline boy roughly her own size and age, wearing a hunter green button-up shirt and navy blue shorts held up with a belt. Frankie thought he dressed like an old man about to hit the golf course. When the boy turned around to look at a painting, the ‘big bad wolf’ got a better look at his face. He had fur of white, sandy orange, and dark chocolate brown, and he had glasses as big and round as dinner plates. The tricolor pattern on his fur seemed to leak into his other features as well, giving him mismatched eyes and hair that was blonde on one side and dark on the other, trimmed into an unflattering bowl cut. He even had a pen in his shirt pocked, Frankie noticed with a grin. What was he going to do, Frankie thought, take notes?

Eventually, the cubs started to disperse as various groups found their own interests. Frankie circled like a wolf, trying to further split the flock into smaller and smaller groups to eventually isolate her prey. She watched the way he moved, the various artifacts and paintings that drew his attention. She noticed he kept standing sideways whenever he was talking to or looking at someone, as if trying to hide the part of his face that was different. She watched him meander from one display to another, eventually settling into one corner with a broken statue of an anthropomorphic bull and a large oil painting of some sort of winged, purple-skinned cherub. Upon closer inspection, Frankie saw the painted cherub had mismatched features as well, with one blue eye and one red eye complimenting its multicolored wings.

She tried to stop her tail from wagging as she prepared to strike, but the cub did something that gave her pause. As he stared at the cherub and the bull statue – both very male and very naked – he looked around to see if anyone was watching and then reached over the guardrail to give the bull a grope between his granite thighs, rubbing the palm of his hand up and down along the stone shaft. Frankie raised an eyebrow, intrigued. This kitten looked like he had some practice.

“That statue’s not gonna jerk you back, you know,” she said softly, approaching the cub on his ‘good’ side with the blonde hair and brown eye. She decided she was going to give this boy a bit of a longer leash than she gave most of her partners – after all, she thought, this might be an opportunity to get some of her own needs met as well.

“So,” she leaned in, one hand reaching for the kitten’s waist, “why don’t you tell me about that cute boy in the painting you were staring at?”

“Actually,” the kitten began, pulling out a museum pamphlet. Frankie preemptively rolled her eyes, certain she was going to regret asking. “The ‘boy’ in the painting is Koro, a godlike being that brings mortals closer to the objects of their desires-”

“And here I am,” Frankie interrupted with a toothy grin.

The feline cub continued, undeterred: “But Koro had a desire to bear children of his own, which he could never do, so he’s sort of a tragic figure. The painter used him to represent femininity and motherly love trapped in a virile, masculine body. That’s why he’s got different eyes, see . . .”

Frankie nodded as the feline droned on. Despite trying to remain aloof and uncaring, she was becoming more and more invested – a mythical figure with mismatched features and desires that didn’t match the body they were born into! She felt like she could relate, and she wondered how much she had in common with Koro and the kitten – and maybe even the painter. As interested as she was, however, the boy’s dry lecture couldn’t hold her interest for too much longer.

By this time most of the cubs had moved on to a new exhibit, and the teacher was apparently flirting with the museum security guard. The canine saw her shot and took it. She pulled open her adult-sized hoodie, the red tattered garment hanging almost past her knees, and revealed her blue-hemmed ‘tighty-whities’ underneath. “Just pretend I’m that statue you felt up earlier,” she teased, grabbing the boy’s arm and pulling it against her groin.

The cub flushed, turning away from Frankie’s predatory gaze and freezing up. “Hey, n-no-” he protested, looking over his other shoulder.

“Shh-shh,” Frankie warned, baring her teeth in a whisper, “don’t make a fuss.” She kept a firm grip on his hand and held it against her privates, waiting for him to settle down. After a few moments, she extended her own hand to the boy’s privates. The frozen feline gripped Frankie’s arm tightly, creating a mirror image before he slowly relaxed his grip, looking everywhere except into Frankie’s eyes.

“A-are you sure?” the kitten asked, his ears flushing pink as he stared down at the floor. It was closer to ‘consent’ thank the big bad wolf normally got.

“Trust me,” she replied, almost whispering in his ear. Frankie reached down for the boy’s belt, deftly unbuckling it with one hand and digging into his crotch, feeling a pair of underwear similar to her own.

“Hey, we match,” she teased, fishing her fingers through the flap on the front of the boy’s briefs and bringing the kitten’s member out for air. Her eyes sparkled as she felt his velvety length harden in her grip, and she saw that her latest prey had nothing to be ashamed of down there! “Whoof, you’re harder than that statue,” Frankie praised, sliding her grip down to the base of his shaft.

Although the boy had been effectively silence by Frankie’s forceful touch, she could tell he was trying to respond to her motions.  He slid his hand slowly back and forth along the canine’s privates, palming her nethers and gently slipping his index finger between her lower lips, stroking his fingers between her legs every time she rubbed her hand up and down his member.

Frankie’s guess about the boy being ‘practised’ was all but confirmed as she felt his gentle fingers rubbing between her legs. She could feel herself getting warmer and wetter, the telltale scent of her own arousal wafting up to her nostrils. She was certain he could smell it too, as she could feel his length starting to twitch in her grip – at least until the teacher shouted his name from across the room.

Frankie squeezed hard, feeling the boy’s shaft throb in her grip while the boy clenched his first in surprise, making Frankie wince from the unexpected jolt. She quickly turned, covering herself with her hoodie, while the feline frantically tried to pull his shorts back up over his hard-on.

“I’ll be in the boys’ bathroom if you want to put those hands on something hotter and wetter than that statue,” she whispered and sprinted away, disappearing into the crowd.