Wild Play
by Quintus

Chief Bogo had called me into his office, but once I sat down he let me stew in silence while he finished up the papers he was working on, peering through his thick-framed reading glasses. Then he took a few minutes to organize everything into something approximating piles and, without looking at me, picked up a piece of paper and read aloud.

“'Officer Judy Hopps,'” he began, “'I regret to say has become morose, listless, inattentive, and occasionally irritable. Once I greeted her on the way to roll call and she did not appear to hear me. I greeted her again, and she gave an inaudible response. At another time she unexpectedly and harshly snapped at me for attempting to make conversation. Of course Officer Hopps is free to conduct herself in whatever way she sees fit, but as this is a change from her previous behavior it seems cause to worry.'”

He looked up at me. I sat still and said nothing.

He put the paper on the desk and picked up the next off the same pile. He scanned through it for a moment. “'At times it seems that Officer Hopps is not all there. When I speak to her, or when a conversation is going on in her presence, she would come to and it would become apparent that she had no memory of the preceding minutes.'”

He moved on to the next. “'I have seen Officer Hopps stop to rub her head, eyes, and neck as if in discomfort. Once, when I got a look at her eyes I saw that they were slightly red. She appears to lack energy or any sort of drive.'”

There were more papers in the pile, but the Chief let them be. He locked eyes with me and said, “Understand, your fellow officers aren't ratting on you. You're not in trouble. These messages express concern, and the supposition that something may be troubling you.”

“With all due respect,” I said in a subdued way, “if anything were troubling me, it would be my own business.”

“But it's my business if one of my officers can't perform her duties to a satisfactory standard.”

I sat back. He moved the pile off to the side, opened a desk drawer and pulled out another stack. He placed the new stack in front of him.

“What was your last big case?” he said.

I stayed quiet, expecting him to answer the question himself. When he didn't, I said, “The Nighthowler case.”

“Why don't we go over it?” He flipped through the pile until he came to the relevant papers, then pulled them out.

“'Case Number:  001022473. Date: 4 March, 2016. Reporting Officer: Hopps. Incident Type: Manufacture of Toxic Substances, Forcible Administration of Toxic Substances, Conspiracy to Inflict Violence or Cause the Infliction of Violence.'” He looked over the rims of his glasses at me for that mouthful.

The report was several pages long, so he flipped past the first few pages to get to the good parts.

“'Wilde and I attempted to reach Chandler Street through the lobby of the Zootopia Natural History Museum. Mayor Dawn Bellweather appeared along with uniformed officers Ian, Kinsky and McShorn. Bellweather attempted to take the evidence on pretext of bringing it to authorities, however, as I had not requested backup or called in my location, I surmised that Bellweather was a conspirator and we were forced to flee. Wilde and I retreated to an under-construction wing, where I was wounded in the right calf by a mammoth tusk protruding from an unfinished exhibit. We took cover behind a pillar while Wilde applied a cloth to the wound to control the bleeding. Wilde removed the serum from the pistol's chamber and reloaded the weapon with blueberries. We again fled into the main hall, but were cut off by Officer McShorn who pushed us into the depressed circular savanna exhibit. Bellweather used the pistol to shoot Wilde with a blueberry which she believed to be the serum. Wilde feigned submission to the effects of the serum while I activated a handheld recording device to capture Bellweather's ensuing confession, which reads as follows …'” He decided to stop there.

“I'm not sure what the point of this is,” I said.

He put the stack of papers back in the drawer and closed it. “Listen,” he said. “It's perfectly normal for mammals in a line of work like ours to feel stress and anxiety after a harrowing case. The way I read it, you must have feared for your life on multiple occasions, not to mention the shock of learning that the conspirator behind it all was one you had previously trusted.”

“I have absolutely nothing to be stressed or anxious about. I solved the case. We won.”

“Yes, justice prevailed and all that. Even so, symptoms of trauma can develop whenever serious physical harm occurs or is threatened, to you or those you care about. In any case I must make a decision based on my observations, as well as respond to the concerns of these officers. That's why I'm removing both you and Wilde from street patrol for the time being. You're to report to records until further notice.”

“What? I can't—”

“It's not up for debate,” he said. “That's all I have to say, so you're dismissed.”

His eyes returned to his work as if I had already left, and seeing that there was no point in arguing further, I hopped down from the chair.

Nick was waiting outside, leaning against the opposite wall. I brusquely told him we had been reassigned and walked off, giving him no chance to respond and no choice but to follow me in silence.

I had stated the facts of the case in my report. However, there were things that didn't make it into that formal and objective form of writing. When I gouged my leg on that mammoth tusk, barely visible in the dim glow of the floor lights, Nick and I took cover behind a pillar, and he tried to patch me up with the only cloth-like thing he could find, a napkin in which he'd wrapped a pawful of blueberries from my family's farm. Most of them spilled across the floor as he pulled the thing from his pocket, however he saved the last one and offered it to me. I declined, and almost immediately he shoved it into his own mouth.

I heard Bellweather call my name gently. I took the briefcase in both paws and shoved it toward Nick. “Take the case,” I said. “Get it to Bogo.”

He looked almost insulted and said, “I'm not gonna leave you behind, that's not happening!”

“I can't walk!”

“Just … We'll think of something.”

I saw the gears in his head start to turn. In a moment he took the case from me, set it on the floor, opened it and pulled out the CO2 pistol. He opened the magazine and found it empty. He closed it again and pulled back the slide, and the blue capsule dropped out of the chamber onto the floor.

I could hear Bellweather and her cronies creeping closer. “We don't have time to 'think of something'!” I hissed. “We have to move now!”

“Forgive me for being cautious, and I don't mean to presume anything about our mayor's intentions, but I'm fairly certain I'm the one who'll be catching this thing in the neck if things go south,” he said.

“I …” I didn't know what to say. I hadn't even thought about the danger he was in carrying that thing.

He pawed around for the capsule, and passed over several blueberries before he found it. As he picked it up I could see some new idea pop into his head. He dropped the capsule in his shirt pocket, then picked up some blueberries, opened the magazine and shoved them in one by one. He closed it again and pulled back the slide to chamber one.

“We have to get all this to the ZPD, right?” he said. “That's Plan A. We need to have a Plan B, C, and D, all the way to Plan Q. If any of those shag rugs do manage to take this from us, we can turn it to our advantage with just a little finesse. Tell me if this sounds familiar: with the hero caught in the trap, and victory all but certain, the villain, strutting with palpable swagger, sees fit to lay her entire evil plan at the feet of her adversary, as a final taunt before the latter's gruesome and inevitable demise. What she doesn't realize is that the hero has a carrot-shaped ace up her sleeve. Do you follow me?”

I nodded. He ran over and took a stuffed jackrabbit from a nearby exhibit and quietly placed it on the floor, positioned carefully such that its shadow fell from the floor light to the opposite wall. Then he grabbed me in one arm and the case in the other and made a break for it.

I knew it was all the plan, and I knew the plan had to work, but as I looked into his eyes filled with bloodlust, his jowls curled back and the flaring muscles on his snout, the doubts started to set in. Was I certain there was only the one capsule? What if there were more in the case, or they were carrying some, and what if Bellweather checked the magazine before she took the shot? In that moment I was seized by a very real fear, and every instinct in my body told me I was staring in the face of a predator who would kill and eat me in any instant. I ran on my busted leg in an adrenaline-fueled rush, throwing stuffed deer in his path to slow him down. But I could only run as far as the farthest wall before he pinned me.

My scream as he lunged for my throat was primal. It was only a few seconds later that the news that I wasn't dead reached my brain. I played into it with a deliberately hammy “dying” act, as if I were mocking the Mayor for falling for our con, and I convinced myself that all those things I had felt in the last thirty seconds were behind me. We survived because Nick was thinking seventeen moves ahead of the enemy, and I trusted him.

But I couldn't stop thinking about the monster he'd pretended to be. For nights on end I couldn't get to sleep, and when I did, I dreamed that I was in a primordial forest, naked on all fours under canopy leaves. A red-furred hunter pounced from beyond the foliage, and I bolted for the nearest burrow. I never made it to the burrow, but I didn't die, either. I couldn't tell you exactly what happened because it dissolved into a disjointed series of images in the way that dreams tend to, but I always woke up from it in a cold sweat. I really couldn't describe it if I wanted to.

In my downtime I started watching prehistory shows on my phone. They were directed like horror movies, with the music and camera angles building up the tension of the hunt, all leading up to that explosive moment of the kill. It might seem like some kind of self-applied exposure therapy, but actually I felt an odd sort of fascination with the CGI renderings of our ancestors. I would pause on a shot of a roaring saber-tooth or crouching cheetah and find something almost exhilarating about their lithe and muscular quadrupedal bodies. I would sit and watch one episode after the other until the sun came up.

In the ZPD basement, an intern showed us where Nick and I would be working. We were supposed to sort through some filing cabinets and throw out all the reports older than five years. It was already getting late. Nick groaned in displeasure, but I just got to work. The intern left, and for hours it was just Nick and I going through drawer after drawer, page after page.

“Hey, Cabbagepatch, listen to this one.” He pulled one of the papers out of the cabinet. “'Case Number: 001017932. Reporting Officer: Buer. Incident Type: Trespassing and Indecent Exposure. On February 10, at approximately 14:40, William Branco, a male grizzly bear twenty-six years of age, entered an unlocked and unoccupied model home and proceeded to remove all his clothing. He then wandered onto the street, where he was seen by two females, Amelia Adderbar and Jessica Clawsco, who called in the incident on Adderbar's cellular phone. “He was just standing there, stone-cold naked,” Adderbar said in her witness testimony. “He didn't seem to be aware of his surroundings.” Branco then re-entered the house and raided the pantry for its fake food boxes, which he took with him into the bathroom and locked the door. I arrived on the scene at approximately 14:54. Branco had to be coaxed out of the room but came without incident. He claimed to be “hibernating,” but later admitted to taking two tabs of lysergic acid diethylamide.' February 10—I guess he didn't realize it was a little late to start hibernating.”

“What's the year?” I said.

“2007.”

I pointed toward the wastebasket without taking my eyes off my own work. He looked almost dejected as he went to discard the paper.

After some more minutes, he looked over at me and said, “You know, if you needed some Sandmammal's magic you could have asked anytime.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sleeping pills. I've got some at my place.”

“What on Earth makes you think I need sleeping pills?”

“Come on. It doesn't take a social animal to notice some things.”

“Okay. I haven't been sleeping well lately. That doesn't mean I need pills.”

“Suit yourself. You know where I'll be in case you change your mind.”

That was that, for a while, but once my initial confrontationalism cooled down, I turned back to him and said, “Are they legal?”

“What? Legal?” he said in mock offense. “You think I, upstanding citizen Nicholas Wilde, ever once touched illegal drugs in all my life?”

“Well, I ask because if they were antihistamines I could get them myself at any drug store. But anything stronger like eszopiclone, zaleplon or ramelteon would require a doctor's prescription, and sharing them would be unlawful distribution of a schedule IV controlled substance.”

“Okay, so they're … sub-legal. Everyone needs a little chemical assistance now and then, even we upholders of order and decency.”

“You said they're at your place?”

“Yeah. I could pick them up and meet you at a diner or something.”

I snorted. “A drug deal at a diner.” After a pause, I said, “Why don't I come get them at your place?”

“My place? Tonight?”

“Why not?”

“I don't think you want to see my place.”

“It can't be worse than mine.” When he didn't seem to believe me, I added, “All right. I'll be honest with you. The reason I've been having trouble sleeping is … my neighbors are loud as rhinos.”

Nick laughed out loud. “Is that it? Why don't you kick down the door and haul them in here?”

“For what? A class C noise violation? Seriously though, if you could give me just a night or two of peace from them, it would mean everything.”

Nick backpawedly closed his cabinet. “Chief Bonehead can get someone else to sort out his papers.”

We punched out and strolled through the front doors as if without a care in the world, and Nick walked his route home while I followed closely behind him. We got on the subway and rode it for about a quarter of an hour toward the inner city. When we surfaced I had to stop and grimace for a moment. The first clue I had that something wasn't right were the dim and flickering streetlights. The second were the rusty fences with sizable gaps in them, and the third were the cracks and potholes that laced the streets.

The house we approached looked like it hadn't been painted in my lifetime, and some windows were even nailed shut with boards. He stuck his key in the front door and put his shoulder into it to get it to come loose from the frame.

“Welcome to the Wilde Estate,” he said. “Would you believe I was the first in my family to buy a house in Zootopia? Nicholas Wilde, self-made businessman. Making his parents proud.”

“Is this what two hundred bucks a day gets you?”

“You know it.”

The interior was so messy I almost didn't want to touch anything. A fine layer of sand stuck to my feet off the bashed-up hardwood floor, and there were boxes from various frozen dinners lying around. In the living room was a stained and saggy couch sitting across from an ancient CRT television.

“It's definitely a fixer-upper. Just haven't gotten around to the 'fixer' part yet. You can have the couch tonight, that is unless you want to share my bed.” He chuckled. “We can hit the hay any time you like, just say so. But I for one am starving, and I bet you are, too.”

“I could eat,” I said. “Not a frozen pizza, right?”

“Believe it or not, I can cook, I'm just too lazy to do it for myself most of the time. I'll see what I can come up with.”

He went to the kitchen, poured some rice from a plastic bag into a pot with water and put it to boil. At the same time, he put a cast-iron skillet on heat, then grabbed a package of mixed vegetables from the freezer and tore it open with his teeth.

I took off my spats, gloves, belt, pads and vest and threw them all in a pile on the floor. Then I turned on the TV by the dial and sat down. The channel was set to some sort of reality show, wherein a group of about ten does, all white-tailed deer of roughly the same height and build, seemed to be staying in a fancy house together. There were interview shots of each one of them, and they all talked about their prospects with an as-of-yet unseen male. Eventually an elephant, the show's host, came in to talk about a series of stunts they'd be pulling this episode.

“What is this?” I called to Nick.

“One of my favorites!” he called back. “A group of ladies compete for the affections of a single male. It's like a game show, where they participate in organized challenges and get eliminated a few at a time, and the prize at the end is vapid and commercialized marriage.”

Finally, the male came on the screen, and I was almost surprised to see that he was a stunningly attractive tiger, meticulously made-up with gloss on his stripes and his fur carefully trimmed.

Nick took the rice off the heat, then threw it in the skillet along with the vegetables. While it was cooking, he squirted some curry sauce from a bottle he'd gotten from the fridge. He scooped it into two bowls, and then I heard ice clinking against glass and pouring liquid. He came out carrying two bowls in one hand and two mason jars in the other.

“This,” he said holding up the bowls, “is how animals eat healthy on a budget.” I took one of them, and he extended the jars. “And this is how animals on a budget make life bearable.”

I held the bowl on my lap and took a jar. I sniffed the contents and said, “Is this liquor?”

“Yep.”

“Isn't it bad to mix alcohol and sleeping medication?”

“You said it was your neighbors keeping you up, didn't you? Let's try this first. Maybe it'll help.”

I took a sip and visibly shuddered, to Nick's amusement. It tasted like windshield washer fluid.

“Convenience store gin,” he said. “Good for getting drunk or stripping paint, whatever suits your needs.”

He took off all his accessories and threw them in the pile, then sat at the other end of the couch. He pointed to the TV and said, “What do you think?”

“Of the show?” I said. “It's completely repulsive.”

“You'll learn to love the fake drama and heartache.”

“Is the male always a different species from the females? I would think that would present some, um, difficulties.”

“Maybe they're not in it to have cubs of their own. Maybe they want to adopt five, and make the world a better place.”

“And while he's a different species, the females are practically monochrome. I can hardly tell how many there are, it all just looks like a sea of brown and white fur.”

“To be fair, there was an ibex earlier this season. She was eliminated third, I think.” He took a long drink from his jar, and I watched several gulps travel down his throat.

“Since I know you're thinking it,” he continued, “no, the male isn't always a predator and the females aren't always prey. Some seasons it's the other way around.”

“I wasn't thinking it,” I insisted. “But now that you say it, I have a hard time believing they don't set it up that way because they found it garners some instinctual reaction. It's like he's at a buffet, taking his pick of all the dishes in front of him.”

“And when the females are predators, it's like they're fighting for the last morsel of meat.”

In spite of ourselves, our banter died down and we watched the rest of the episode with rapt attention. Helicopters were summoned, elaborate dates were set up, and a series of activities, some silly, some demeaning, were carried out. At the end of it all, the tiger brought all the deer together for a final scene in which he revealed who was staying on the show and who was going home. All of it was played for every once of drama and tears it was worth. The credits rolled over a preview promising more heartbreak coming right up, and Nick stood up from the couch and said, “I think I'm about ready to call it in.”

“Wait!” I said. “Um … I'll watch another episode.”

“Didn't you come here to get some rest? Besides, I'm afraid if I expose you to any more of that, you'll drop some IQ points.”

He picked up all the dishes and left. I sat on the couch and listened to the sound of running water from the kitchen.

I followed and watched him rinse out the bowls, wipe them down quickly with a rag and set them on a towel on the counter next to the sink. Just as he was drying off his paws I grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him down to my level for a kiss. I turned my head to the side and even tried to stick my tongue in, but he kept his teeth clamped shut. He pushed me away and held me at arm's length by the shoulders.

“Take me into that bedroom with you,” I said. “All I need is ten minutes, I promise I will rock your fucking world, just please …”

“Hopps, come on. What's gotten into you?”

“Nothing's 'gotten into' me.”

“A smart and self-respecting bunny like you never went for a lowlife like me when she was sober.”

He let go of my shoulders turned away to pick up some trash around the kitchen. I furrowed my brows at him and said, “Excuse me. I am completely in control of my faculties at the moment, and I'm also perfectly capable of deciding who is and is not good enough to sleep with me.”

“It'd be bad news if anyone found out, you know. Predators hooking up with prey tends to look a bit, you know, predatory.”

“You think I care about that?”

He stopped and looked at me.

“Wait, I think I get it … Is this the real reason you haven't been sleeping well?”

I didn't respond, but he saw through the look on my face.

“It is! Oh, cripes … How old are you, Brusselsprout? Twenty-one, twenty-two?”

“I'm twenty-four,” I said.

“Twenty-four years old, and I bet you spent the last ten of them in career-focused tunnel vision. Have you ever taken a break long enough to experience the touch of the opposite sex?”

“I suppose you have.”

“Don't dodge the question.”

“Okay, so I've never done it before. So what?”

“Right. Sorry, but I can't, in good conscience, take advantage of a girl like you in your alcohol-induced desperation.”

“What do you mean 'a girl like me'? You mean as opposed to girls you've fucked in the past, right?”

“Like I said, you don't want a lowlife like me.”

I got closer, and spoke just a little more softly. “You're not 'taking advantage' of anyone. I told you, I am lucid right now, and I don't want just anyone, I want you. Don't you think it would be nice to do it with someone you care about?”

I ran my paws slowly down his sides, laid one paw across his crotch and felt his sheath through his pants. I heard him take in breath in reaction, but he didn't resist.

“All right. You talked me into it,” he said.

I grinned.

He took me to the back of the house. I followed him through the door of his bedroom and, for some reason, closed it behind me. I had to step around dirt and clutter, much of which was ground into the carpet, and the bed was unmade and a little musky, but not entirely unpleasant. Nick sat on the edge and said, “How do you want to do this?”

“Shh.” I pushed on his shoulders, and he turned lengthwise on the bed and lied on his back. I climbed over and straddled him around the hips.

I tucked my fingers under the bottom of his shirt, pulled it up over his head, and tossed it aside onto the floor. I ran my paws down his fluffy chest, and he lifted his paws to caress my sides. He removed my shirt as well, and I leaned over and kissed him again. This time he reciprocated, and we passed our tongues over and under each others' a couple times. I pushed my pelvis into his, and already I could feel something pushing back.

I scooched backwards and pulled his pants down all the way off his feet. His red tip was poking its way out of his sheath, and I ran my fingers up and down to encourage it. He let out a breath of air through his nose and smiled, and I grasped it more firmly and pulled the sheath back past the bulbous knot.

“Not quite what you expected, is it?” he said.

“You think I didn't know what to expect? You know I have a phone with a data plan, right?” I held the base below the knot and gently jerked it up and down. He closed his eyes, and I could feel his muscles pulsing in response to my motions.

I slid my own pants off, tossed them over and sidled back up to Nick's pelvis. I grabbed his shaft and held it against my folds, teasing him a bit by rubbing myself up and down his length. I delighted in his grunts and the squirming of his legs.

Once he was nice and slicked up with our mixed juices, I lifted myself up on my knees and positioned his tip against the opening of my slit. I gave him a look that said, “Are you ready?” and he met it with a grin.

Very slowly I lowered myself onto him. I only took about an inch at first, then let out a breath and stopped. My muscles were so tight that I couldn't go any further before it became uncomfortable.

I glanced at him, and we both chuckled. I took a deep breath in and pushed down a little further. With another breath, I pushed even further, until his knot pressed up against the rim of my hole. I sat on the knot for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of him inside me.

I laid my palms on his chest, lifted my rear and let it out of me to the tip. Then I tried to take it again a little faster.

“You really are new at this,” he said.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He grabbed my haunches. I gasped in surprise, but he whispered, “Just relax,” and I did. He pulled out and thrust back into me with his hips. He went just a little faster than I had been, but with more rhythm and without pausing.

He increased the tempo of his thrusts almost imperceptibly, and I could feel the pleasure slowly building inside me. I couldn't help but let out little gasps and moans.

“How are you doing?” he said.

“Good … It's good …”

He moved his paws up to grab me under the armpits, then rolled me onto my back with him on top of me. He held me down with one paw on my chest and the other on the bed and thrust harder, noticeably picking up speed. Without thinking I put one foot on his chest as if to kick him away, and I grabbed his wrist with one paw and a clump of bed sheet with the other. The sensation became unbearable. I started to feel pain from my muscles stretched to their limits.

“It's too much!” I cried. “I can't …”

He calmed me by planting the tip of his muzzle on my neck. He ran his tongue up and across my mouth and nose, leaving a trail of saliva—it was strangely comforting. The rate of his thrusts reached an apex, and he arched his back with several final, convulsive pushes into me. I felt warm fluid begin to fill me, and his knot, nestled between my thighs, engorged to several times its original size. I could hardly believe it was meant to fit inside someone—it looked almost the size of my entire head. With his shaft still inside me, he turned and collapsed on the bed, and we lay facing each other, our noses an inch apart, breathing heavily. His seed continued steadily filling my uterus.

“Did that loosen your strings?” he said.

“A bit,” I said. I reached out to caress his head behind the ear, and he nuzzled his nose against mine.

I watched him fall asleep right there with his mouth open, his tongue hanging out and a pool of drool slowly forming on the pillow. It occurred to me that the animal in bed with me was as far from the monster in my nightmares as it was possible to be.

I reached over to turn out the bedside light, then closed my eyes and waited to join him in dreamland. But I couldn't. After a half hour my eyes had adjusted to the moonlight shining in through the shades and I could see Nick's face again. He seemed to be dreaming about something exciting. His legs and arms were twitching at irregular intervals, and he occasionally made some soft breathing and grunting noises. I saw his teeth through curling jowls and the wrinkle of his flaring snout, and I heard something quite like indistinct growling.

I climbed out of bed as quickly as I could without disturbing him. I threw my shirt back on, went to the kitchen and, not bothering to turn on any lights, found the bottle of gin and the nearest clean jar. I poured some and gulped it down greedily. Then something occurred to me. I started opening the cabinets, and when I didn't find anything of note, I went to the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet and examined the bottles one by one. I left them where they were, returned to the kitchen and thought a little harder. I opened the cabinet under the sink and felt around underneath. There was a loose board, and I moved it aside to find a hidden compartment. Inside were a dozen or so orange prescription bottles. I pulled them out and examined them one after the other until I found something useful. Nitrazepam. The prescription was made out for a dingo—how much did they weigh again? About fifteen kilograms, right? And I weighed four kilograms, so that meant … I opened the bottle and shook one tablet onto the counter. Then I got a cutting knife from the drawer, cut the tablet and popped the smaller end into my mouth. I dumped what remained in my gin jar, filled it with tap water, and drank until the jar was dry.

I went out to the couch and sat in the moonlight. I had enjoyed my time with Nick, but I expected the ending to be a little more … explosive? It certainly seemed to be for him. My paws drifted downward. Some of the white goop had dripped onto my thighs and dried into clumps in my fur. I put two fingers into my slit and spread myself apart, letting a little more out. Then I started to rub myself, slowly at first, then more vigorously. I could feel the pleasure building just like before, but it hit a plateau and I struggled to push myself to climax. I stopped when my wrist got tired, like I always did.

I don't exactly remember, but I must have fallen asleep at some point because I woke up on the couch to a direct beam of sunlight in my face. My sleep had been dreamless. I was half-dazed and my eyelids felt glued shut. Nick was moving around in the kitchen, wearing a baggy white T-shirt and gray sweat pants.

“What time is it?” I called.

“Just past eleven,” he said. “I made oatmeal, but it got cold while you were sleeping. You could heat some up in the microwave if you want.”

“Why didn't you wake me up? We have work today!”

“Relax. I called us both in sick.”

“Sick? You can't just … I've never been sick a day in my life.”

“I guess you're doing two things for the first time, then. Doesn't it feel refreshing to sleep in?”

“Actually, I feel like I've got a pound of fuzz in my brain.”

“That's another way of looking at it.”

I joined Nick in the kitchen, spooned some oatmeal into a bowl and threw it in the microwave. I sat at his tiny plastic dining table while I waited for it to heat up.

“I see you raided my stash,” he said. “I suppose you of all mammals would be able to find it.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.”

“I don't mind. But weren't you the one who mentioned the thing about mixing them with alcohol? I mean, it is a thing mammals do, some swear by vodka and valium, but you know that shit can kill you, right?”

“I'm sorry. It was reckless and stupid.”

The microwave beeped. I pulled out the bowl, got a spoon and returned to my seat.

“It seems to have worked out, anyway,” he went on. “So, now that we've got the whole day free, you want to hang out some more?”

“Thanks, but I really ought to get home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I need some clean clothes and a shower.” I finished my food, then stood up and approached him.

“I had a really good time last night,” I said. “Could I … visit again soon?”

“Yeah. Soon,” he said.

“I'll see you at work tomorrow.”

I gave him one last peck on the mouth. I went to the bedroom and put my pants back on, then in the living room I picked up all my accessories and carried them in a plastic shopping bag. I left and walked through the seedy neighborhood to the subway station. I got on the train and rode it all the way to the other side of the central district. I didn't pay attention to everyone curling their noses at the grimy bunny in the disheveled police uniform.

After I got home, I took an hour-long hot shower, put on some pajamas, and spent the rest of the day sitting around in my room being a lump. I idly browsed the Internet on my phone, and though I resisted at first, I found myself back among those prehistory shows I loved so much. I thought I must be losing my mind.

The next day, I went back and did it all again. And again. And again. I got in the habit of bringing clothes, food, my toothbrush and everything so I could shower, do laundry and get ready for work all at his house. No matter how many times I fucked him, though, I was never satisfied, I couldn't get to sleep without the pills, and if anything my performance at work only got worse.

One night, as Nick and I were getting our clothes off, I, fortified with gin, said, “There's something I've got to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“These nights with you have been great, really, but I feel like something's …”

“Missing?” he said.

“Did you notice?”

“It doesn't take a social animal to notice some things.”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “It's not you, it's just, I don't know …”

He, not knowing what to say, simply lay back on the bed, his boxers still on, and drew me in close with his arm around me. I pressed my nose into his chest and enjoyed the scent of his fur.

“Nick,” I said. “Do you remember the Nighthowler case?”

“The what case?” he said with mock ignorance. “Oh, yeah, I might have some vague memories here and there.”

“You saved both our hides,” I said. “When we were in trouble, all I could think about was bolting. I never would have thought to, you know … make the switch.”

“Stuff like that just comes natural, I suppose.”

“Whatever it was, it's a good thing it was you there with me, and not someone else.”

He didn't say anything, just pulled his arm tighter around my shoulders.

“We really conned Bellweather into thinking you had gone savage,” I said.

“Bell-who now? I'm telling you, I have only the faintest idea what you're talking about.”

I punched him lightly in the side.

“We had her,” I said, “her entire rant was on tape, and still you stalked me against that wall, and … fake-bit me on the neck. We had everything we needed already, so why did you … ?”

“I'm not sure,” he said. “Honestly? Maybe I just wanted to see the look on her face. Or the look on yours.”

I nuzzled even deeper into his fur. Then, summoning all of my gin-steeped courage, I said:

“What if I told you I want to do it again?”

His smile vanished. “What do you mean?”

“When we did it before, I knew it was an act, but it was strangely, I don't know … exhilarating? Seeing you on all fours, with your face looking like that, it might be what's, well … what's missing?”

He scooched back and sat up against the bed frame.

“You want me to prey on you. As like a sex thing.”

“I mean, I …”

“Hopps, I gotta tell you, that's pretty messed up.”

“Just listen,” I said. “You ever watch any of those prehistory shows? They have these CGI renderings of ancient, four-legged animals, and I don't know, there's just something … really pleasing about that shape.”

“And also the hunt, right?” His smile hadn't returned, but he was listening now.

“When you stood on all fours and … did all that, I don't know why but it was maybe the hottest thing that ever happened to me. It's been on my mind ever since.”

“So, you want me to act like an ancient fox, chase you around this room, snarl, bare my teeth, all that good shit … until I catch you, at which point instead of tearing your flesh from your bones I violently fuck you. That's the gist of it, that's what you want?”

“It'd just be pretend, though. Just what we did before, only with …”

He looked down and put his head in one paw. After what seemed like a tortuously long time, he smiled and said, “You know, I wouldn't have thought you were the type to be into the rough shit.”

I smiled back at him.

“All right,” he said. “Whatever. Let's do it. Maybe it'll be fun.”

I could hardly contain my excitement.

“So what do we do first?” he said.

“Well … I suppose we should start by taking off all our clothes. It might be difficult once we're, you know, in-character.”

He slipped off his boxers, and I did the same with my shirt.

“Don't couples normally have a safeword for this sort of thing?” he said.

“That's right. How about … 'blueberries'?”

“That's pretty distasteful,” he said. “Whatever. What next?”

“Next, um … act like you did at the museum.”

“I'm starting to have second thoughts about this.”

“We don't have to do it if you're uncomfortable.”

He put his head in both paws, sighed, and laid back down on the bed. He turned on his side away from me. I waited, but after a minute or so he hadn't moved. I nudged him and said, “Nick, I'm sorry. Don't sulk.”

He opened his eyes like he'd been awakened from slumber. My heart sank instinctively.

I backed up slowly off the bed, and he stood up on all fours in a circular motion, keeping his eyes trained on me. His snout muscles were flaring and his teeth were bared. He approached me slowly, carefully, until I couldn't stand it and I bolted. I hit the wall just to the side of the door, turned left and took off again just in time for him to hit the wall where I had been. I threw a wastebasket in his path and he hit it head-on, tumbled over and spilled tissues and food wrappers all over the floor. He picked himself up and scanned the room for me.

I was in the far corner. I tried to bolt past him toward the bed, but he cut me off and grabbed me by the neck in his jaws. He threw me to the middle of the room, then pounced and pinned me with my belly to the floor. His claws raked my back and left burning scratches. I scrambled to get away, but he gripped me tightly around the haunches. He arched his back and began rapidly thrusting against my backside.

His tip slowly emerged from his sheath, and after a few painful jabs it found my opening and slid inside. He pushed it all the way to the knot and pulled the entire length in and out of me roughly.

A strange thing happened. My brain was so flooded with pain and adrenaline that it overtook the conscious part of me that was aware this was roleplay. I was enveloped in a haze of sheer terror. I screamed, I cried, I ripped out the carpet with my nails. He again grabbed my neck in his jaws and pushed my face into the floor, muffling me. All the while, he fucked me relentlessly.

Time seemed to slow, and every sensation in my body was amplified a thousand-fold. The scratches on my back felt like searing irons, his teeth around my neck, almost to the point of drawing blood, felt like a vice grip. At the same time, the pleasure radiated through my entire body. It drowned out everything else.

Suddenly, he gave one final thrust and pushed his knot inside me. It engorged and filled me completely, and that was enough to push me over the edge. My orgasm came in waves, and my walls pulsated and contracted around him, milking every drop of seed.

He let go of my neck, as dazed by his orgasm as I was by mine. I was no longer trying to get away. I lay there like I had surrendered, and as our minds came back to us I realized I was sobbing softly to myself.

Nick stood and watched me cry for a few moments. I imagine he was confused, not sure whether the roleplay had ended or not. His empathetic nature got the better of him, and he leaned over and said, “Are you all right?”

“I'm sorry,” I said between sobs. “I'm sorry, Nick, I'm so, so sorry …”

That was about all he could get out of me at the moment. And since neither of us could really go anywhere, all he could do was lie down beside me. He wrapped his arms around me and—I'm not kidding—licked the top of my head between the ears like a cat.

Eventually his knot shrank enough for him to pull out. He stood up, put his shirt back on and left the room. I lay there alone for a few more minutes before I followed him. He was heating a pot of water in the kitchen. I sat at the dining table, and when the water came to boil he poured it into two mugs full of dry, powdered chocolate. He brought the mugs to the table and sat across from me. I took mine gratefully.

“I'm sorry,” I said, calmly this time. “I asked you to do that, then I cried and made it all awkward.”

“Are you all right, though? I didn't hurt you, did I?”

“No! In fact, it was pretty amazing,” I said with a smile.

“Yeah.” He returned the smile.

“It was horrible of me to ask you to do it, though.”

“How so?”

I fidgeted in my seat. “There's something else I have to tell you. When we did that thing at the museum, I was afraid. For-real afraid. I knew it was all the plan and yet there was a part of me that thought you might really have become a savage beast, and that part took over until the whole thing was finished.”

“I know,” he said.

“What? How could you know?”

“I could smell it.”

“Nick, I'm so sorry. Now here I am asking you to do it again because … I don't know, because I've started to fetishize that feeling of being hunted. It's sick, and I feel utterly despicable.”

But what he said next took me by surprise. “I can't really blame you.”

I lifted my ears at that.

“You were staring in the face of a vicious, hungry predator. It was fake, but I used to earn my living by making mammals believe that fake things were real. In my prouder moments I liked to think that I was good at it.”

“Nick …”

“And you know, thousands of years ago, foxes did hunt and catch rabbits. That's just a fact, and I don't really see anything wrong with re-enacting it. In fact, that we can do it shows how completely we trust each other.”

“… Thank you,” I said. “So … you wouldn't mind doing it again?”

“As long as you're not uncomfortable,” and there was that smirk.

We finished our hot chocolate, then returned to the bedroom, climbed into bed and turned out the lights. I buried my face in his chest, and in less than a minute I was asleep.