I had thought Colonel Raquel might have worn those curious civilian garments or maybe the body armor I had seen before. With maybe some fancy insignia to show off her rank.

  No. She wore a stylish not quite black military dress uniform that somehow showed off her ample bust.

  “We aren’t normally very quick to recruit non-jags into the military,” Raquel was looking out the window at the training fields. Her tail twitched with agitation.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said so she would know that I had heard her.

  “Eighty years ago, in the ruins of the Kingdom of Dave before it was refounded as New Galicia. The Dominion army encountered a mercenary company that contested our claim. The Eagles of Terra. You ever hear of them?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “A human group. Human Original even. They gave us a real fight on the ground. There aren’t very many nations in Outer Sol that can do that. Certainly not the Conglomerate or the Sovereignty. You have any military training?”

  “Last Eden Militia, ma’am,” I shifted awkwardly.

  “I will be ensuring that the instructors do not go easy on you. I ask that you not appeal to their sympathies.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I won’t, ma’am.”

  “There will be no special treatment. Not from command. I’ll be adding you to the general intake. Throwing you to the wolves. Or cats in this case.”

  There was a moment of silence. Colonel Raquel hadn’t asked a question.

  “I heard that you were an abused husband. Joining military service to escape your domestic situation.”

  “That’s not true… Ma’am,” I stumbled over the reply.

  “It’s written down on your file. A psychological interview is scheduled after this. It is mandatory.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Fucking Gema.

  * * *

  “Tell me Jack, what do you think you know about the jaguarine?” The psychologist lounged behind her desk wearing an office blouse and skirt and a pair of glasses that I suspected were purely cosmetic. A name plate on her wooden desk announced her name as Virginia.

  I was seated on a simple metal chair. It was uncomfortable.

  “I mean… They’re catgirls. Made by those weirdos on the fringes when they made everything else. Right?”

  “Yes, the jaguarine were made by those humans. It might help you to understand why we are made the way we are. Do not make the mistake of thinking this,” she reached into her shirt and hefted out her glorious right breast, “is some kind of accident. It’s all very intentional. Mostly.”

  “I… I hadn’t thought about it that way,” it was strange to think of. An untold number of scientists working untold hours, weeks, maybe months to create the genetic blueprint of what they thought was the perfect breast.

  “Tell me. Was I talking about the breast or was I talking about how I showed it to you?” She was tucking away the breast in question.

  “What?”

  “Nevermind that, do you mind if I smoke?” She pulled a cigarette from a metal case.

  “It’s… It’s your office. You can do as you like,” I nodded.

  “You say I can do as I like?” She lit the cigarette. There was a smell of burning mint. “The jaguarine were made to protect humans. It’s one of the core goals of our design. Did you know that?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “There are some thirty million jags in the Dominion. All of them, designed to protect humans. The Dominion must be the safest place in Sol for a human to be? Right?”

  “That would make sense.”

  “Do you know how many humans were in the Dominion before Last Eden arrived?”

  “No,” I didn’t know, but it didn’t seem like very many.

  “None. Exactly none. Do you know why? Can you guess?”

  “No, no I can’t,” what the hell was this woman talking about?

  For a moment the psychologist just sat there, the smoke of the cigarette building in the air.

  “That’s not important either,” she took a hard drag of the cigarette and tapped the ash into a tray. “Let’s talk about this…,” Virginia checked her notes, “Sarah. The husband beater.”

  “She doesn’t beat me,” and she was my girlfriend but that seemed besides the point.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  “Oh, more of an emotional abuser? Does she get jealous? Does she get mad at you because women pay attention to you?” She grinned leaning forward.

  “She gets jealous,” I leaned back.

  “Would she be upset with you if she found out that you were here alone with a woman who showed you her breast?”

  “Yes,” of course Sarah would be furious. Though I was distracted as the tang of feminine arousal mingled with the smell of burnt mint.

  “That’s textbook abusive. Us being alone together in my office is required by the circumstance of a psychological interview and showing you my breast was just something that I did. You’re not at fault for any of this. Her anger at you would be very misdirected,” Virginia smugly concluded, leaning forward. Predatory.

  “Sarah is not abusive.”

  “She’s not here. You don’t have to protect her.”

  I couldn’t find an answer for that. I glanced at the door nervously.

  “Do you think I have any motive to mislead you?”

  I paused for a moment. I couldn’t actually think of why she would lie or mislead me about this. Both Gema and Virginia had been adamant that Sarah was abusive. They wouldn’t get anything out of it if she was. The argument seemed thin. But everyone was so determined.

  “No,” I admitted.

  “I think that is enough progress for today,” Virginia butted out her cigarette with a smile. “Would you like to book another appointment for next week?”

  * * *

  Dominion training seemed a little laid back. We’d be starting in the morning, there was an option to stay in the barracks tonight but recruits had the option of sleeping somewhere else tonight if they had a choice. Like if they could afford a hotel or they lived nearby. The training cycle would continue for two months at which point we would be assigned.

  Which is why my introduction to basic training was carrying a duffel bag into a half empty barracks.

  “I can’t believe they made the whole barracks non-smoking just because we have a boy in the mix,” I could hear a woman complain.

  “But… We have a boy!” another woman replied with excitement.

  “Pft, you wouldn’t even know what to do with a boy if you got on,” the complaining girl sneered.

  I spotted the two women, jaguarine. In civilian clothes. I checked the numbers on the bunks and put my bag down on my bunk.

  “I… I’d figure it out,” the once excited girl, now cringing, was the shorter and wider of the two. Thicker about the waist and cloth stretching between her collar was muted in color.

  “Please, your mom probably got you at the sperm bank,” the complaining girl was tall and lithe. Sporting one of the most modest busts I had seen on a jag. Her collar and belt seemed a little fancier than the other girl’s.

  “Can’t you just smoke behind the barracks?” I commented, unpacking my stuff into the locker.

  “Holy shit, you’re a human,” the shorter one gasped.

  “Holy shit, you’re a jag,” I replied with a smile.

  The taller one stood frozen and alert. Watching.

  “I’m Jack,” I walked over and offered the short one a handshake.

  “Beatriz,” she shook my hand with enthusiasm.

  “Nice to meet you Beatriz and you would be?” I turned and offered my hand to the taller girl.

  “Eva,” she took my hand in hers.

  “Eva and Beatriz, what a fortunate meeting, I am sure we will get along-” “Say, could you two fill me in on some things? About jags?”

  “Of course! I’m sure I can help with the basic things,” Beatriz nodded happily.

  “We… could tell you all you needed to know… behind the barracks. While we smoke,” Eva tightened her grip on my hand, but didn’t make eye contact while she spoke.

  “Eva! Nice boys don’t smoke,” Beatriz crossed her arms, reprimanded her.

  “Fun boys smoke,” Eva placing her hands on her hips, countered.

  That stopped Beatriz. She turned and looked down at me with a question in her eyes. The eyes of a girl who very much did want to smoke with a boy.

  “Will you… Make sure we don’t have too much fun?” I reached out and offered my other hand.

  “Of course! I’ll look out for you. You can count on me,” Beatriz nodded with a happy smile and grasped my hand. Only to a moment later shoot Eva a warning glance.

  It felt pretty good, walking out of the barracks with an attractive eight foot tall cat woman on each arm. We sat down against the wall of the barracks.

  “What do you guys smoke? Pretty sure it isn’t tobacco or marijuana.”

  “Nip, it’s uh… derived from catnip,” Beatriz supplied with some embarrassment. Looking down and away.

  “When we were made, they made it so we didn’t go into heat anymore, but the stuff to make us go into heat is all still there. If you smoke nip it makes it move. Or something like that,” Eva supplied.

  “I guess it won’t do anything for you?” Beatriz sounded disappointed.

  “You wanna try it anyway?” Eva suggested offering me a cig and Beatriz looked excited at the idea.

  They didn’t care too much if it got me inebriated, it was more important to them that I did it with them. I made a mental note of that.

  “Sure, I’ll try some nip,” I took the smoke and soon Eva lit it for me.

  Coughed on the smoke. The girls laughed and each lit up their own smokes.

  “I haven’t seen a jaguarine male yet.”

  “You and Beatriz both,” Eva laughed.

  “Hey. I have a little brother,” Beatriz replied. “Boys are very rare and prized. A lot of poorer families sell them to richer ones. But that is all the more reason why we have to take care of them. Make sure that no one tries to take advantage of them.”

  “Boys from poor families that don’t sell them usually end up as whores,” Eva leaned onto my shoulder, her clawed fingers poking my chest.

  “Well Javier won’t end up like that. He’s a nice boy. I signed up so that doesn’t happen,” the shorter jags fingers traced down my side.

  The smell of burning nip was accompanied by the smell of feminine arousal. Not as familiar as Sarah, but not unpleasant.

  I put out the cigarette.

  Nice boy, fun boy, cute little thing and whore. I think I understand. Those are the things I can be to the jags.

  That meant… As a strictly hypothetical proposition, unrelated to my current position, I definitely couldn’t plow two recruits behind the barracks on the first day without falling into the whore category.

  Though that would be cheating on Sarah anyway. So I wouldn’t do that anyway.

  Eva gave me another cigarette. I hesitated for a second.

  “Do it slut,” she offered me a light.

  I took it. It was required.

  “Don’t be mean to him, you have to be nice to boys,” Beatriz reprimanded while helpfully placing my hand onto her thigh. I gave her a squeeze for her assistance.

  Eva’s counter argument was to slide her tongue into my mouth. Large, broad, sharply rasped, tasting of meat, primarily focused on getting inside and brute forcing my tongue into submission. An inexpert kiss but a kiss for sure.

  I choked back a moan.

  I stumbled to my feet and out of the grasp of the two women.

  “Tease…,” complained Eva.

  “I don’t get a kiss?” bargained Beatriz.

  A world in which the injustice of Beatriz not getting a kiss was allowed to continue was a cold and dark one. A world without joy or meaning. I could not in good conscience allow such a world to exist.

  I leaned down and kissed her. My tongue finding her fangs before sliding past her incisors to her tongue where it welcomed me like a friend.

  Parting mouths and ways I made my way back into the barracks.

  “That fucking slut,” Eva muttered as I went through the door.