by Derek Slaton
“It’s happy hour, so it’ll be five bucks,” the bartender replied. The cougarified Agent reached into his purse, but before he could even find his wallet in the depths of cigarette packs and lipstick tubes somebody smacked a ten dollar bill onto the counter.
‘Don’t you worry baby, I got this for you.” It was a frat boy, couldn’t have been two or three years into college, all blonde hair and blue eyes. He wore a light pink polo shirt with a popped collar and his giant douchey smile was all for Kerr. “I’ll take one too, barkeep,” he said.
“Coming right up,” the bartender replied.
“So baby,” the frat boy cooed, “I’m Jordan, what’s your na-”
“Let me stop you right there.” Kerr put up a ruby nailed hand. “Thank you for the drink, but I’m not interested.”
“Baby, baby, you got me all wrong!” Jordan put his hands up in defense. “I’m not looking to hit it and quit it, I’m looking for something real.” He put a hand over his heart.
“Then you are in the wrong fucking place,” Kerr snapped.
“Oh, you got a bit of a dirty streak, don’t you?” Jordan licked his lips and winked. “I like that.”
“Oh, you like it dirty, huh?” Kerr grinned. “Okay.” The hand still in his purse closed around a twenty-four inch black dildo and produced it, slamming the silicone down onto the bar. “This is my friend the Violator. Over the years he’s seen some shit, both literally and figuratiely. If you don’t back the fuck up in the next three goddamn seconds I’m going to bend you over the bar and use your asshole as a storage facility. Is that dirty enough for you?”
Jordan visibly gulped, and took a step back from the bar. “Barkeep, give both drinks to her,” he said loudly, and then turned on his heel, crossed the dance floor, and exited the club completely.
“Goddamn, you is some sorta super cougar, ain’t ya?” Silky raised an eyebrow.
“Well, if I’m going out tonight, I’m taking some assholes with me.” Kerr shot back his first martini in one gulp. “Even if it’s just their self esteem.”
“You might want to take it easy there, Kerr,” Rose warned as he lifted the second glass into the air.
“I downed one of the bottles of white zin we got before I came in here,” he replied with a shake of his head and downed the second drink. “Didn’t phase me in the least. Apparently in addition to everything else, I have the alcohol tolerance of a cougar as well.”
“Well, don’t be worryin’ too much there vanilla bean,” Silky piped up. “Just be thankful that there be one thing that bitch can’t be takin’ from ya.” He physically recoiled at the burning horror in Kerr’s eyes as their gazes met, and the pimp swallowed.
“Um.” Silky nodded in realization, and stood up. “Silky is gonna go see if Abe be havin’ another magazine.”
“Good call,” Kerr seethed.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of this,” Rose assured her coworker.
“Glad at least one of us is optimistic,” he muttered.
“I am, Kerr,” she said, and hopped a stool closer to him. “And I also have something for you.”
“I don’t think a good luck charm is gonna help.” He sighed and tried to lean his head on his hand, but then thought better of it so that he didn’t stab himself.
“It’s a tracker,” Rose slid a small rectangular device along the bar to him. “If you really are turning into a WereCougar then you might be the only one that can keep up with her if she bolts.”
“Sorry Rose,” Kerr replied with a nod, picking up the device. “Just a bit on edge.”
“It’s okay, Kerr,” she said, and patted the soft fabric on his back gentle. “It’s okay.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Silky flicked through a few pages of articles until he got to a curvy olive skinned goddess in a golden bikini. “Goddamn, Silky wouldn’t care if she be crazy,” he murmured, and Abe grunted from behind his own magazine.
Rose stood by the front door, keeping an eye on Kerr at the bar as Thorn grabbed her mic.
“What’s up, Austin?!” She roared, throwing a fist into the air. “We are Queen of the Demon Blade and we are gonna blow the roof off of this motherfucker!” As she screamed the last word, the drums exploded into a fast lead in, and the band kicked into high gear. The thrash coming out of the amplifiers rattled the glass in the skylight, and the twenty or so patrons on the dance floor started to throw themselves around in excitement.
Rose straightened as the front door opened and a familiar looking demon entered the club with a set of deep scratches across his face. She waited until he was just past her before raising her fingers in a signal to Thorn that there was trouble.
The singer nodded and continued to screech into the mic, taking a fighting stance that simply looked like a metal move. Two of the demons spotted Silky and made a beeline for him, while scarface and two lackeys start for the stage.
“Hey boys!” Thorn cried across the crowd, over a thick crunchy guitar lick. “Looks like we have some newbies in the pit! Make ‘em feel welcome!”
The random moshing became a well oiled machine of a circle, Thorn’s fans creating a human barricade that entrapped the trio of demons. They shoved them back and forth like rag dolls, and the dark skinned front woman grinned.
“That’s it fellas, you keep em there til I give the word!” she egged them on, and Rose crept up behind the last stray demon that had trailed in behind scarface. He braced himself to take a run at the crowd, but she planted her knife in his back for a silent kill.
Silky glanced up from his magazine to see the two incoming demons heading for him. “Yo Abe, you wanna take them out? Silky don’t wanna be imposin’, given how this be yo terrority and all.”
The bearded man sighed and set down his magazine, stomping over towards the two newcomers.
One of them raised a finger. “You better back up old man-” SMASH-BONGGGGG… Abe smashed a bass guitar into the side of the demon’s head, teeth flying everywhere in a fantastic spray of crimson. Before the second demon could recover from his stunned shock, Abe swung the instrument down onto the top of his head, crumpling the demon body to the ground.
There were a few more wet squelches complete with deep vibrato as he finished them off into quivering messes on the floor. He dropped the guitar casually and slunk back over to Silky, who handed him a fresh cold beer.
“This ain’t yo first rodeo, is it white beard?” Silky asked.
Abe shook his head. “Nope.” The pimp simply smiled at him and turned his attention back to his magazine.
The trio of demons were still trapped in the fan circle on the dance floor. Scarface’s agitation reached its peak and he dropped his human form, letting out a mighty roar as the first song ended. The metal crowd wasn’t even fazed by the noise or the hellish skin of the exposed demon, still raring to mosh.
Kerr leapt over the human wall, extending his hand to slice right through a demon’s neck as he gracefully landed on his heels inside the circle. The head slicked off and hit the dance floor, and the cougar Agent Pelé’d around the wavering decapitated body and booted the head straight at the other underling, catching him square in the face.
Scar growled, pointing at his face. “I owe you for this!” He lunged forward but Kerr punched through his chest, grabbing his heart and shoving it through the other side. The fan circle stepped back as the cougar raised his arm, posing with his trophy and a wild grin on his face. Rather than simply pull his arm back out, he dug his second arm into the wound and tore the demon in two, showering the crowd in a blood and bone.
The underling that had been smashed in the face with his buddy’s head managed to get to his feet, and clenched his fists. He attempted to look menacing, but the fear in his eyes betrayed him.
“Really?” Kerr sneered. “I just ripped your boss in half and you want to face off with me?”
The demon looked conflicted, but before he could make a decision, there was a crunch and shink as the skylight shattered
above. In a flash of red and gold, the WereCougar flew down and landed on top of the demon, driving him into the ground with claw and stiletto.
“Well, well,” she purred as she kicked the carcass aside. “Looks like my cubbie is all grown up. And momma didn’t even have a chance to play with him first. What a tragedy.” She clucked her tongue and the fan circle broke apart. The concert goers backed up, giving the two cougars space to face off.
“Somebody get me my purse,” Kerr demanded, eyes narrowing beneath thick mascara encrusted lashes. A random metalhead jogged up to him, holding the massive animal bag, and Kerr reached in, curling his hand around the giant cock for the second time that night.
When he raised the Violator over his head in triumph, the metalhead stood next to him, frozen in confusion.
“You can go now,” Kerr prompted. “Just put that behind the bar, will you?” The metalhead nodded jerkily and scurried away, purse in hand.
“Oh, that’s a big one,” the WereCougar said, putting a hand to her chest. “You wanna use that on lil’ ole me?”
Kerr whipped the dildo around like a set of nunchucks, a certified S&M Bruce Lee. “You can’t handle what I’m about to dish out,” he warned.
“Ohhhh, I love it when they get cocky.” She licked her ruby painted lips and then rapidly dove forward.
Kerr countered by whipping the giant phallus at her face, the tip bonking off the bridge of her nose. She staggered back in surprise, a massive grin forming on her foundation-caked face.
“Playing rough I see,” she cooed. “Don’t worry baby, I like a little pain.” She readied her claws and then grunted at the sharp shocks licking up her back.
“You’ll love me then,” Thorn declared, and brandished more of her knives before expertly flinging them at the WereCougar. The old demon managed to dodge the last few, but in the distraction of it all landed Silky’s 9-iron in her gut. The impact forced her to double over, and Silky took a golf position, ready to tee off.
“Hope you don’t mind if Silky be finishin’ on yo face,” he said with a smirk, and swung.
The WereCougar lashed out and grabbed the shaft, holding the club down. “What’s the matter, hon?” She cocked her head. “Having trouble getting it up?”
Silky struggled against her, trying to wrench the club from her hands. “Bitch, Silky’s gonna-” Kerr interrupted the scene by flying in, landing a blow to the WereCougar’s face with a dildo uppercut.
She let go of the 9-iron and staggered back in a daze, taking a few more big black blows to the face as Kerr moved forward on the offensive. She managed to steady herself and launched forward with her claws outstretched. He countered by leaping heels over head, landing directly behind her and using the Violator as a noose.
He pulled back as hard as he could, planting his stilettos in the top of her back for leverage. She struggled and thrashed wildly, gasping for air and clawing at the dildo with all her might.
“We need the wine, now!” Rose cried, and the bartender pushed a giant tub out from behind the bar. As he slid it across the floor, Kerr steered her in the right direction like a cowboy on a bucking bronco. Silky swung and connected with her knee, forcing her to tip over into the tub.
Kerr kept the pressure on her windpipe and her back, keeping the thrashing old bitch in her wine filled coffin. Finally the struggles subsided, until he felt he could release the Violator and step back, though his guard was still very much up.
“Did we get her?” he asked, but he could still very much feel that he wasn’t cured.
“Well, you’s still a chick, so Silky wouldn’t be celebratin’ just yet,” the pimp seemed to read his mind.
Rose crossed to the bar, pulling a cigarette out of Kerr’s purse and lighting it up. She took a deep drag as she lifted an abandoned martini and dunked the cig in it, lighting it on fire. She strode over with the flaming chalice.
“Maybe this will help,” she said as she tossed the flaming liquid onto the WereCougar’s lifeless body. Thorn hopped down from the stage as her band and most of her fans seemed to realize something incredibly terrible was going on that they didn’t want to be witnesses to.
“Looks like you did it, babe,” Thorn said as the patrons cleared out.
“If she did, then why am I still like this?” Kerr whined.
“Silky, give her a good poke,” Rose instructed.
“Did Silk not expressly fuckin’s ay he weren’t stickin’ his dick in no crazy?” the pimp snapped.
“I meant with the golf club.” The redhead sighed.
“Silky gettin’ a lot more info on y’all’s sex life than he be wantin’,” he muttered, and extended the club to test for any sign of life. Just before the head ghosted over the flaming WereCougar she leapt up with a shriek, sending her opponents startling backwards.
She grabbed the sides of the wine tub and lifted it over her head. The white zin soaked her, extinguishing the flames and leaving her clothes clinging to her middle aged form, lopsided nipples pointing in opposite directions.
“So rude,” she scoffed as she flung her wet black locks over her forehead. “Not only wasting good alcohol, but messing up my hair in the process.”
“Why the fuck won’t you die?!” Kerr roared.
“Now baby,” she licked her lips, enjoying the taste of the wine on top of her cherry lipstick, “you know I’m just playing hard to get.” She winked and leapt up onto a set of floor speakers, grabbing onto the rafters and swinging up through the busted skylight.
“Oh no you don’t!” Kerr screeched, following her parkour path a little clumsier due to the newness of his powers. As he hurled himself up through the roof, Rose waved her comrades forward.
“Come on!” she cried. “I’ve got a tracker on him!”
“Abe, clean this shit up, will ya?” Thorn motioned to the clusters of demon guts everywhere and he nodded with a grunt, licking his finger to turn another page of his magazine as the trio ran outside to the van.
CHAPTER NINE
The wine-slicked sin of the WereCougar glinted under the light of the full moon as she raced across the Austin skyline, rooftops crunching beneath her shoes. Kerr bounded after her, eyes on the prize, noting that she didn’t seem to be pushing herself. She flipped back and forth across obstacles, adding little flairs to her movements such as hair flips and fluttering fingers.
Kerr growled at her showing off; she was toying with him.
“My poor cubbie.” She cackled as she backflipped up onto a flat roof, staring down at him with her hands on her hips. “Struggling to keep up with momma. It’s a shame you tire out so easily.”
“Bitch, I’m just getting started,” he warned, and sprung up suddenly, catching her off guard. His flying knee landed into her chest and knocked her right back off of the edge of the roof. He landed on the ledge on the balls of his feet, wobbling slightly as he watched her crashing into a table of the rooftop patio just below them.
Patrons and their drinks flew everywhere, bits of wood crunching beneath them as they caused a chain reaction of mayhem.
“How’d you like that?” Kerr puffed out his tits and held out this claws menacingly. The WereCougar simply grinned and popped back to her feet, diving from the patio to a nearby condo balcony. She beckoned him with a single long nailed finger and disappeared through the sliding doors.
Kerr leapt down to the patio bar, dodging a few confused patrons before jumping down to the balcony, taking a deep breath. “Rose, I hope you aren’t far behind…” he murmured as he stepped over the threshold into a giant loft apartment.
It was minimalist, with a few plush couches against the walls and a black and white deco rug perfectly symmetrical between them. He let out a low whistle at the expensive looking four-poster bed in the far corner, and then turned at the sharp clang of something hitting sink in the kitchen area.
The WereCougar strolled out from behind the stainless steel island, glass of white wine in hand. She had dried off a bit from her run, but still looked a bi
t disheveled and sticky from her zinfandel bath and shower.
“Well, well,” she purred, putting a hand on her hip as she sipped at her glass. “Looks like I finally have you in my posh condo. Unfortunately given your current state it’s likely the only thing of mine you’re going to be able to get in to.”
“I may not have a lot of time left, but I guarantee that you are going to wish I had a lot less when I’m done with you,” Kerr warned, fighting the urge to clench his fists to avoid stabbing his palms with his own nails.
“Honey please.” She rolled her eyes. “You already drowned me, beat me, and set me on fire. What else do you possibly think you are going to be able to do to me before becoming my slave?”
“Slave?” Kerr’s furrowed his brow in confusion. “I thought I was going to wither up and wish I was dead?”
“Well, that last part is true, but a good momma knows how to take care of her cubbies,” the WereCougar explained, motioning to him. “Why do you think I went to the trouble of getting you here alone?”
“Frankly, I don’t wanna know what you had planned for me,” he retorted, and reached between the pillows of his cleavage to produce the tracking device. “But you should be aware that I’m not alone.”
The front door imploded, Silky standing behind it with his signature grin and leg extended. The trio burst in as the WereCougar watched, jaw hanging open, wine glass slipping from her hand. Kerr took advantage of the distraction to leap into a flying dropkick, driving the tip of his stiletto directly into her heart.
She screeched as he jerked his foot to the right, kicking off of her with his free leg to snap the heel off inside of her.
“Batter up, bitch.” The words dripped from Silky’s mouth smoothly, and he swung his golf club as hard as he could, driving the busted heel deep into her old Were heart. She screeched again, seemingly unaffected as she dug her sharp nails into the wound and tore the foreign object free, tossing it aside to clatter across the hardwood.
She came at the pimp in a flurry of fists, and he knocked them aside with his 9-iron, focusing all his energy on keeping up with her quick moves. She changed her strategy in frustration, going for overhand claws, and Silky slid back a few times to avoid getting scratched. He dove into a roll, gracefully attempting a leg sweep, but she anticipated it and leapt over him, landing a kick to his face.