The Cult of Cuddles

“Look! Foxes!”

James kept himself from rolling his eyes as his sister’s enthusiasm. They were at the Verge, an establishment that skirted the edge of propriety by having prey and predator species eating in the same room. Albeit with a wooden railing running lengthwise to separate the two sides.

James looked over at the two young vixens, and found them looking back. Well, that’s what the Verge was for - to see and be seen. James himself didn’t come here very often - he only was here now because Jessica had insisted - but he knew that many of the members in the Cult of Cuddles did. He didn’t recognize either of the vixens though - they must be like his younger sister, university undergrads out for a thrill.

Then his eyes met those of one of the foxes, briefly, and he felt a familiar certainty growing inside. She wasn’t a Cultist - yet - but she was a Candidate, ready to be initiated even if she didn’t know it. Yet. But how to...?

His ears and nose twitched as the idea came to him, and it would serve his sister right for dragging him here. “Miss!” he raised a paw.

“Sir?” the mouse-waitress serving the prey side of the room came over.

“My sister is interested in speaking to those two vixens at table 7,” James told Amy, while pretending not to recognize the mouse. “Our names are Jessica and James; could you have a message taken to them?”

“Certainly, sir.” Amy pretended not to recognize James in return, and both members of the secret cult ignored the blush showing inside Jessica’s rabbit-long ears.

Michelle looked around eagerly, especially across the rail at the prey side of the room. Neither she nor Vivian had ever been in the Verge before, but her friend was going on like an old hand.

“They used to have tables pushed right up against the railing,” Vivian said. “But then the authorities made them move the tables and clear a three foot space on either side.”

“That’s too bad.”

“I don’t know... It’s one thing to tease the primal instincts - after all, one has to give people some credit for self-control - but sitting practically in arms reach of a mouse or a rabbit or a ‘roo? That’s something better left to fantasy.”

“Maybe.” Michelle was a romantic at heart, and so didn’t agree, but she didn’t want to get into an argument either. So she changed the subject. “Anyway, we’re here to watch as well as eat, so let’s watch.”

With their grilled orkle strips half-forgotten, the two vixens turned to look over the mice and rabbits and fruit-eating bats on the other side of the rail. In turn, they felt the eyes of various prey-furries watching them, along with the other foxes, cats, and wolves on the predator side of the Verge.

Michelle saw a pair of rabbits watching her and her friend. Having been a properly-brought-up fox cub, this was the closest she’d ever been to a rabbit. But if she had to guess, she’d guess them brother and sister rather than a couple on a date. There was something in their body-language, as they sat together, that transcended the differences between the various species of furry.

Her eyes met those of the tall male rabbit, then dropped away. She began a day-dream as she took a belated bite from her orkle strip. She’d be kind to him, if she had him in her power. Or if it happened the other way around, it would be like the latest Sable-Caroo romance where the mysterious hooded stranger turned out to be a lupine in disguise.

“Look at that mouse,” Vivian interrupted Michelle’s musings. “The one sitting with the fruit-bat. What do you think of him?”

“You saw him first,” Michelle answered.

“Yes, be as long as we’re spinning fantasies, we can share him, can’t we?”

“Excuse me,” a male voice said. Both vixens looked over to the naga, one of the Verge’s staff, who had slithered silently up to their table. “The two lupines at table 4 wish to exchange names, and perhaps speak with you, if you are willing.”

“Um,” Michelle didn’t know the Verge’s customs, and so was at a loss as to what to say. Vivian looked equally confused.

“If you wish to exchange names,” the naga explained, “You may give me yours, and then I will give you theirs and see that yours are conveyed to them. Then if you wish to speak directly, you may go up to the stage.” A flick of his tail indicated the raised platform at the end of the room, where the separating rail turned into a low wall. “Or not, if you prefer.”

“OK, then, um, I’m Michelle.”

“And I’m Vivian,” her friend added.

Michelle then spoke quickly: “But we prefer not to speak directly. Please give them our apologies.” She didn’t want Vivian to push her into doing something she wasn’t yet ready for.

“Very good,” the naga said. “Their names are James and Jessica. I will see that they receive your names and your apologies.”

After leaving the Verge, Michelle found herself regretting that she hadn’t spoken with the two lupines, but she put her regret firmly aside. “It’s too late now,” she told herself.

The next day, eating lunch in her university dorm’s dining room, she found her regret returning. She should have spoken with them, close enough that she could have scented their rabbit-ness.

Her eyes widened; she did scent rabbit! But that was impossible! Even if they were students, they’d have to stay on the prey side of the segregated campus, just like she had to stay on the predator side.

“Hello Michelle,” Vivian said. “What do you think?”

Michelle willed her heart to slow. The rabbit-scent had a synthetic tinge to it, and it was coming from her friend; a new fad-perfume that she’d heard of but never encountered before. “If your mother could scent you now, she’d have a stroke.” Michelle said.

Vivian smiled, a quintessentially vixen grin. “So it’s a good thing she’s not here.” She sat down with her own tray. “A lot of prey furries are doing the opposite - mice wearing cat scent and such. A lot of the old fogies are complaining that they can’t tell the predators from the prey, anymore.”

The day after that, Michelle made up her mind to return to the Verge. Maybe that tall male lupine was a regular there. Or maybe not. “Don’t be silly,” she told herself. “Even if I did get a chance to talk to him, what could we say to each other?”

But it had become an itch in her tail that she couldn’t scratch, and so she set out early that evening for the Verge. Walking along the inner border of the campus, she passed the old Theater Building. This abandoned structure straddled the predator and prey sides of the campus, standing unused because no one could decide which side it belonged to.

As she left that old building behind, her nose encountered the scent of rabbit, once again with the tinge of a synthetic perfume. “Hmm,” she said, pleased at not being fooled again. Then she saw a robed figure stepping out of the bushes ahead.

It was a large female feline, the hood of her robe thrown back to show her head. “Excuse me,” she said. “Have you seen a rabbit?”

Michelle sniffed the air. The rabbit scent was still there, but wasn’t coming from the feline. “No, but I scent one,” she answered.

“That’s all right then,” The feline said. Then someone doused in artificial rabbit pulled a pillowcase over her head from behind. Michelle yipped in surprise.

“Don’t worry,” a male voice told her. Michelle felt strong male hands fastening belts around her body, pinning her arms inside the pillowcase. “And don’t start struggling until we have you safely tied down. We don’t want you to hurt yourself, after all.”

“But if I wait until I’m tied down, I won’t have any chance of getting away,” Michelle objected, her voice slightly muffled by the pillowcase.

“Yes. That’s the idea,” came the answer.

“Oh,” Michelle said. She considered this as her two abductors gently helped her lie down on a stretcher and strapped her in place. It had to be some sort of university prank. Maybe they had grabbed her by accident, thinking she was Vivian. “I’m Michelle Gfesser, not Vivian Renault,” she said. If Vivian was responsible for this...

“We know,” the feline answered, and continued as if reading Michelle’s mind. “Ms. Renault doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Oh,” Michelle said again. She felt her stretcher being lifted and carried away. It still had to be some sort of university prank, she decided. She might howl for help, but after that rescue came she would die of embarrassment. Besides, she was curious about what that female puma and fake-rabbit male had in mind. Foxes could be just as curious as curious as felines, she thought smugly.

Her captors carried her only a short distance, into a near-by building. It must be the Theater Building Michelle though, and she found her guess confirmed when her pillowcase was pulled away. The room she found herself in was small - classroom sized - but the old wooden carvings were in the same style as the facade she’d seen from the outside.

The only contents of the room were a heavy wooden table and a pair of equally heavy wooden chairs. The table was covered with a white cloth and had various objects arranged on it: Combs, brushes, leather straps with brass buckles, large silken kerchiefs, and a pair of hand-bells. The chairs were empty.

After helping release her, the male not-rabbit stood back. Tall, robed, and hooded, he waited, watching Michelle as Michelle looked him over. Her attention was drawn back when the female feline pointed to one of the two chairs. “Strip as much as you dare, and take a seat,” she told Michelle.

Michelle took another look at that tall male and felt a grin spreading over her face. As much as she dared, eh? She did a quick, flirtatious striptease, kicking away shoes, rendering herself topless, leaving behind only her panties. She smiled openly at the mysterious male, as she flopped into a chair, and thought she saw an answering twinkle in his eyes, behind his hood. “What now?” she asked.

“Now we tie you down again,” the male stranger answered, and it was done. Michelle found herself quickly secured in place with a combination of silk scarves, cotton rope, and broad leather straps. “Can you get loose?” the hooded male asked when the last knot was tied.

Michelle squirmed, pulling at her bonds. “No,” she said.

“Good!” And once again Michelle though she saw an amused twinkle in the eyes behind the hood. Those eyes then turned to the feline. “Your turn now.”

The feline quickly stripped to match Michelle and took the second chair. In a few minutes the hooded not-rabbit had her bound and helpless as well. He then took the pair of hand-bells from the table and began to ring them.

“By the angels of the North and the South,” he chanted as he rung the bells. “By the good spirits of the East and West. Enter the acolytes of the Cult of Cuddles! Enter, enter, enter!”

The door opened and a number of robed figures entered: Three... six... a dozen or more. Michelle’s eyes opened wide at the sight of them, and she felt her heart begin to pound.

They were all prey-furries.

They included mice and a ‘roo, a pair of fruit-bats and a rabbit, and a few others in addition. Michelle looked over at her fellow captive across the table from her. The feline looked back, flashing a grin, and then turned her smile to the robed figures approaching her.

“Hello Felice,” a male mouse. “You’re looking good today.”

“Thank you,” Felice said - purred, rather, as the mouse ran his hands through her fur without any sign of fear or hesitation.

“You feel good too,” the mouse added. Michelle watched with shock as three or four other prey-furries joined in petting and stroking the female cat, while the others stood near, waiting their turns. It was... Its was...

She started as she felt a hand scritch softly along the back of her ears. It was the tall hooded male, who had come up behind her. “Comfy?” he asked. “Frightened?”

“No. Yes. A little,” Michelle said. “I mean, I’m not uncomfortable. These are well-made chairs. But I am a little nervous.” She tried to pull her eyes away from where various prey were combing the fur of a helpless, purring fem-cat. Cuddling her. Snuggling against her.

“Try to relax.” The male was now rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s not an instinctive fear, whatever anyone might say. You’re not afraid of me, are you, even though I reek of rabbit?”

“No,” Michelle admitted. “But you’re obviously wearing a fake scent.”

“So I am.” He sounded amused.

“What I’m really worried about is my wild instincts getting lose. What if I bite one of them?”

“You’re much too civilized for that,” the hooded male said. “Give yourself some credit. Still,” he added, “if you really want we could gag and muzzle you.”

“No, that’s all right,” Michelle said quickly. She didn’t want to be gagged. And if those prey furries trusted her... She realized with a shock that she was expecting, or at least hoping, for the prey furries here to start combing and cuddling her the way they were cuddling Felice the cat, over on the other side of the table.

“And now it’s time for your initiation into the Cult,” the mysterious hooded male said. He gestured, and half the prey-furries cuddling Felice started around the table toward her.

Michelle’s eyes went wide, and she felt her heart pound. Even though she’d been hoping for this, the reality was a little overpowering. When they were cuddling Felice, the prey furries had been closer than they’d ever been before in all of Michelle’s life. And now they were coming even closer. Close enough to touch her.

They were touching her. Someone ran a comb through her hair, and this little mouse-maid was actually hugging her. Others were gently massaging the knots in her muscles, whispering friendly advice about trying to relax. Her nose picked up half a dozen different prey-scents, but not a whiff of fear. The prey-furries cuddling her were smiling and friendly as they gentled her, running their hands through her fur, completely unafraid. Why were they unafraid?

Well, it might have to do with my being tied and helpless in this chair Michelle thought. But even so, fear of predators was suppose to be instinctive in prey furries, and she certainly didn’t sense any of that here. And it did feel good. Felice the fem-cat, sitting tied in her chair across from Michelle was luxuriating shamelessly in it, judging from her grin and her purrs. So Michelle closed her eyes and relaxed into the ministration of her captors-pamperers as well.

The hand-bells rung once more, and the various prey-furries drew back. Michelle kept her eyes closed, stifling her disappointment at the cuddling ending so soon. Then the hooded male’s next words made her eyes snap open. “And now,” he said, “it is time for the tickling!”

“Tickling?!” Michelle squealed. But to her relief (and disappointment) the prey furries had all left her, except for that tall hooded male. They clustered around Felice, wiggling fingers working over every square inch of her, making her giggle as if she were being driven crazy. The paws of mice and rabbits and hedgehogs ran across the fem-cat’s belly and ribs, up and down her arms and legs and tail, tickling her ears and her toes. They made her yowl and laugh, and struggle against her bonds with twists and tugs that were both furious and useless.

Michelle’s eyes were huge, and her ears swiveled and locked open to take in Felice’s giggles. Not for anything would the vixen be able to turn her attention away from the scene of the fem-cat’s... Well, not torment. It was too much for Michelle to call it ‘pleasure’ but the grin on Felice’s face, and the whiff of her scent that filtered through the prey scent of the others, made it clear that Felice was enjoying herself, and not just succumbing to forced mirth.

“Are you ready to share her fate, Initiate Michelle?” the hooded male asked.

“I... I../../ I...” Michelle stuttered, and then swallowed. The idea frightened her, much more so than just being tied mostly-nude in this chair, more, even, than being petted by those prey-furries. And she could refuse. The mysterious male’s tone of voice showed that he more than half expected that she would refuse. On the other paw, Michelle knew that she would regret it forever if she did say no. For all her struggles, Felice looked (and sounded, and smelled) like she was having too much fun to not take a share of it herself. Besides, Michelle was curious. Foxes - and especially vixens - could sometimes be even more curious than cats.

“Yes,” Michelle whispered, and then she made herself speak firmly. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“Very good.” He gently poked his fingers into Michelle’s ribs and wiggled them, forcing a giggle from her. Her arms pulled at her bonds, discovering that they held her just as well as before. More giggles came from her as his fingers ran up and down her sides. “Ah. Ticklish vixen fur,” he commented cheerfully as his right hand moved to wiggle across her tummy.

“Heeheheeheeheehee,” Michelle answered. “I haheeheeheehehee.” Either she was more ticklish than she remembered being, or his fingers were exceptionally skillful. “Ah heeheeheeheehee.” Or maybe both; certainly it wasn’t possible for her to do anything but squirm and giggle as his fingers moved to tickle her upper back and the back of her neck, and then move down her helplessly bound arms.

Now some of the prey-furries were returning to her. A hedgehog and a mouse knelt at her feet and began to tickle her legs, while another mouse moved to her left side. The tall hooded stranger moved to her right, and four pairs of hands applied tickles to her. She struggled, of course - she couldn’t keep from squirming any more than she could keep from giggling. But her struggles were completely futile. And Michelle wasn’t sure that she didn’t prefer it that way.

If those ropes and belts and scarves weren’t there to hold her in place, Michelle would have lept from the chair and run fast and far. That would have ended the tickling, however, and Michelle knew that she’d be disappointed to have it end so soon. On the other paw, it was driving her crazy! They were tickling her sides, and her tummy and her t-t-tail! They were tickling her legs all around her thighs, and behind her knees, and on her f-f-feet! And between her toes!

“I think she’s especially enjoying this,” she heard the hedgehog say.

“I think you’re right,” one of the mice answered. “Let’s synchronize: On the count of three. One, two...”

Michelle howled. Whatever it was those two prey-furries were doing between her toes, it was the most intense tickling she’d ever felt, and it felt wonderful. And the fact that was two prey-furries doing the tickling - a mouse and a hedgehog, no less! - just made it worse. Better. Whatever.

She found herself panting for breath; the tickling paused at least temporarily. She drank from a glass held by the hooded stranger, and panted some more, catching her breath. She caught the eye of Felice, who was also being allowed a break. The fem-cat grinned at her, and then began to giggle again as a pair of rabbits knelt on either side of her and started in on the tickling once more.

“You’re doing great!” a fem-mouse squeaked. And hugged Michelle, entirely unselfconsciously. A day ago, Michelle would have considered such a display of closeness and affection from a prey-furry to be unthinkable. Now, however, is seemed entirely reasonable. Maybe because everyone else here considered it reasonable.

“Hee!” Michelle started. The hooded stranger had taken a gentle grip on her sides, touching with just his fingertips.

“Ready to continue, Initiate Michelle?” he asked. Michelle nodded, and four pairs of hands began to tickle her once more.

“Heeheeheeheehe!” Michelle giggled. It was like soaking in a bath that was slightly too hot, as those tickle sensations sank past her fur and into her skin. Only sweet, instead of spicy. And more vigorous, as the points-of-tickle wandered from place to place over her body, making her squirm and struggle. Once more tickling fingers ran up and down her sides, and up and down her arms. Once more they tickled the back of her neck and along her tail. Once more they tickled her tummy, running round and round her belly-button - and then inside it. Once more prey-furry fingers ran up and down her legs, tickling behind her knees and along her calves. Once more she felt her feet tickled, on top, underneath, and especially on the sensitive places between her toes. And there was nothing, nothing at all she could do about it. Which only made her feel more ticklish.

Like a hot bath, the tickling slowly drained the strength from Michelle. She could only vaguely remember, later, the hooded finger ringing the bell and calling for the tickling to stop. Her captors released her bonds with surprising speed, and the hooded figure wrapped her in a blanket and helped her to a cot in the next room, where she rested for a time, recovering.

But she did have a clear memory, afterwards, of standing at one of the Theater Building’s entrances, and of the hooded figure pressing a small wooden disk into her hand. She looked at it in the entrance light: A plain disk with a glyph burned into one side.

“Keep it secret,” the hooded figure said from the doorway leading out to the predator side of the campus. “It’s the identifying symbol of the Cult of Cuddles. Don’t show it to anyone unless they show you theirs, first. They’ll tell you when to come here for the next stage of your initiation.”

And then he left.

(Part 2)

In the privacy of a library cube, Michelle pulled out the wooden disk and looked once more at the glyph burned into it. It had been almost three weeks since That Night, as she privately named it, and she didn’t know what to think.

For the first several days after That Night, Michelle had been eager for the summons to return. To be mobbed and petted and tickled by a herd of friendly prey people. Then with a sudden reversal of feeling, she had made up her mind that she would refuse to return. She would return the disk to the messenger and that would be the end of it. That determination had lasted four or five days, and now she wasn’t sure what she would do.

She put the disk away, hiding it deep in her purse once more. She needed advice, she decided with a flick of her tail. She would ask Vivian. Her friend played edgy games, as with that synthetic rabbit-scent perfume, but she had a firm sense of what did or did not go too far. If Vivian approved - if she turned out to belong to the Cult of Cuddles herself, for example - then it would be all right. If she didn’t approve, then the Cult did go too far, and Michelle would drop it. Her decision made, Michelle gathered her books and left the library.

Finding Vivian turned out to be easier said than done. Michelle couldn’t find her in the first three places she looked. On her way to the fourth possible spot, Michelle encountered a ferret, the smallest adult fem-ferret she had ever seen. Practically as small as a mouse. No, literally as small as one: She came up to exactly the same height as that mouse who had...

“Michelle Vixen?” the fem-ferret asked.

“Yes?”

The ferret held up a bronze disk, cupped in her hand. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

The disk was inscribed with the Cult of Cuddles’ glyph. Michelle dug her own wooden disk from her purse. “One like this?” she asked, showing it to the ferret.

“Exactly.” The ferret’s eyes burned beady-bright. “Initiate Michelle, if you are ready for the next stage, be at North Predator Entrance of the old Theater Building at 8 P.M. tomorrow night.”

Michelle looked down at the ferret. “What if I’m not ready? What if I don’t want anything more to do with it?” It came out more hostile than she had intended.

The ferret shrugged, deflecting the hostility. “We’ll ask you three times. Then you can give that back,” she nodded at the disk, “and we won’t ever bother you again. This,” she wiggled her fingers in a tickling gesture, “isn’t for everyone, after all.”

“I was just curious,” Michelle apologized. The other female gave her a sharp toothed ferret smile.

“‘Which is more curious, the fox or the cat?’“ she quoted.

“The fox,” Michelle answered at once. She was burning with a number of questions, more curious than any cat could possibly be, but she also sensed that she only had time for one. “And I have one more question: How do you like it?” She wiggled her own fingers in the tickle-gesture.

“I like both giving it and taking it,” the ferret answered. Her gaze and smile both softened. Having a big strong bull in your power is nice, sometimes. Other times, turnabout is fair play.” She nodded and her gaze sharpened again. “It was good to meet you Michelle. Eight P.M. tomorrow night, if you want to come.” She hurried off.

Michelle stood there for a long minute. “I will go.” she told herself at last. “Never mind what Vivian would say. It can’t be that bad.”

Michelle was at the North door of the old Theater Building a few minutes before 8 P.M., and just as she arrived the door opened to reveal the mysterious-familiar figure drenched in synthetic rabbit-scent. “Welcome, Initiate Michelle,” the hooded figure said, holding the door open for her.

“Thank you.” Michelle hurried inside.

“You are ready for the next step in your initiation?”

“Um, yes. Yes.” Michelle made herself speak firmly.

“Good!” the rabbit-scented figure said, his voice sounding cheerful from behind the hood. “We have a few minutes yet, so just relax. Lean against me and relax. No tickling until you’re properly restrained; it’s one of the Commandments of the Cult. So there’s no need to tense up. There. That’s better.”

Michelle put her arms around the hooded figure as he massaged the tension from her shoulders and back. She tried, and failed, to catch a whiff of his true scent behind that synthetic rabbit. Was he canine, feline? Racoon, maybe? Despite his height he couldn’t possibly be a bear... Whatever he was, his touch was most delightfully masculine.

After the massage, the hooded male led Michelle through an inside door, down a hall, and through another door into a familiar room. This time, however, the combs, feathers and various other items of tickling and restraint were piled on the two chairs, leaving the heavy wooden table empty. Arranged around the room, a dozen figures waited, robed and hooded, but still obviously prey-furries of various types. Michelle recognized some of them from her last visit here, and their familiarity reassured her.

“Take off your shoes and socks, and sit on the table,” the hooded male told Michelle. When she was in place, he took a pair of handbells and began to ring them.

“By the angels of the North and the South,” he chanted as he rung the bells. “By the good spirits of the East and West. The acolytes of the Cult of Cuddles are gathered here, and the Second Ceremony of Initiation will now begin!”

With that, the robed cultists stepped forward. Prey-furries who showed no fear or revulsion toward Michelle, vixen and predator though she was. Mice, a rabbit, a hedgehog, and others with friendly hands who undressed her, combed her fur, and gently bound her with the ropes and flexible cuffs laid out for that purpose. Gently, but most efficiently, rendering Michelle completely helpless.

That was when the embarrassment ambushed her.

Michelle had expected to feel nervous, or even frightened, and had set her mind on guard against that. But she hadn’t expected to feel embarrassed. Certainly not this burning hot embarrassment that made her want to crawl into a hole and die. She was a predator! And these were prey! And they had made her helpless! And she had let them! She held in her whimpers and screwed her eyes shut. But she couldn’t ignore the concerned voices and soft hands of her captors as they petted her and tried to comfort her.

She heard the sound of a door opening. “Raid!” a deep male voice called. “Professor MacStuart is coming!”

Then before anyone could react, another door opened. “Raid!” Michelle recognized the voice of the tiny fem-ferret. “Professor Richardson is coming. We need to bring Amy here.”

“Damnation.” That was the hooded not-a-rabbit. “All right, we’ll have to do a switch. We’ll have time if we don’t dawdle. Where’s Bruce?”

“I’m here James.”

“Take Michelle to the other room, and have Sam bring Amy here. And remember, everyone, we’re the Society of the Wall when the professors come.”

Michelle felt herself being picked up. She opened her eyes to find herself being carried by a male bear - Bruce. He brought her into a room similar to the one she had left, but here all the robed cultists were predator furries, all except for the bound and helpless fem-mouse on the table. Bruce set Michelle down beside the mouse, and then the mouse was carried off by a bull. Doors closed. “Remember everyone,” Bruce said. “We’re the Society of the Wall, now.”

“Right!” someone said. Then the predator cultists began a nonsense chant. It didn’t go on for very long before a knock came at the door - not the one leading to the prey side of the building.

“Professor Richardson is here,” the tiny fem-ferret announced. An old and rather grim-looking lion stalked past her. His eyes swept over the room, and Michelle thought he looked disappointed when he saw her. He took a turn around the room, then demanded:

“What’s all this?”

“We’re the Society of the Wall, Sir,” Bruce answered.

Professor Richardson growled “Bah! That nonsense. You’ll grow out of it.” Michelle heard him add in a lower tone, “You’d better grow out of it.” Then he turned to give the robed group a glare. “You’re not part of that mixing treason.”

“Of course not, Sir,” Bruce said. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Bah!” the lion growled again. He headed toward the prey-side door.

“Sir, that door leads to a group of prey-furries,” Bruce said. Professor Richardson drew back as if the doorknob was red hot. “Or so we suspect,” Bruce added quickly. “We heard voices.”

“Very well.” Professor Richardson swept the room with another glare and then left through the outer door.

Bruce started the nonsense-chant again, joined in by the other robed cultists. After a time, a knock came. “All clear,” the tiny fem-ferret announced. A minute later, the tall hooded male appeared, carrying the mouse Amy. Michelle felt an unexpected spurt of jealousy, but then the hooded not-rabbit picked her up, giving her a chance to snuggle against him.

Whatever species he is, he has nice strong arms, Michelle thought. She could hear his heart beat, could feel him give her a squeeze.

“I’d like to have you to myself,” he whispered. “But I can’t tonight. Another time.”

They entered the room where the prey-furry cultists waited. As Michelle’s mysterious lover set her on the table, she found that she wasn’t embarrassed at all, any more. Not even when two dozen friendly prey-furry hands approached her and began to tickle.

It was like the previous tickle-session, only more so. Combs ran through her fur with a tickling wiggle. Hands dug gently into her sides. Fingers ran across her belly and between her breasts. A squirmy massage ran up and down her legs, up and down her arms, and up and down her tail. Her ears were tickled. She could not avoid the tickling touch. Nor could she keep herself from squirming and giggling, struggling against her bonds as those soft, irresistible tickle-sensations sank into her.

Now some of the cultists were holding her feet, stroking her soles with prey-furry fingers, running feathers across the insteps and between the toes, using brushes to tease the sensitive skin. Michelle was a civilized, shoe-wearing furry, and like most such furries her feet were soft and tender as a result. They were perfect targets for the friendly, merciless tickle-assault being made against them, and Michelle could not keep from laughing and struggling. Of course, those struggles only served to make Michelle more aware of her helplessness, and to make her even more sensitive to the gentle teasing of her feet, her legs, her tail, her sides... her all-over.

It felt wonderful.

It continued to feel wonderful as it went on and on, draining Michelle’s strength as she giggled and squirmed. Each of the dozen prey-furries applying the tickles had his or her own technique, so Michelle felt long slow strokes, and sharp brisk ones, teasing from fingers, brushes, combs and a half dozen other implements. There were light touches and firm ones, tickling that sought out and teased her most sensitive spots, and tickling that cultivated the less sensitive areas of her skin. Friendly, kindly, merciless tickling, by the robed prey-furries of the Cult of Cuddles, who teased her without malice and without embarrassment, until Michelle found herself regretting that she could not take any more.

Michelle found herself untied, and in the strong arms of the hooded male. His name is James she remembered.

The other cultists were packing up, leaving Michelle and James alone as she sat on his lap. She snuggled against him, and he whispered in her ear. “Next time, I’ll have you all to myself.”

I’d like that. Michelle thought, but she was too tired to say so. “Mmm,” she said instead.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you.”

“Mm-hum.” She pressed against him further.

“In that case I have something for you.” Keeping one arm around Michelle, James brought out a jewel case with his other. Inside was a necklace, a choker with a silver plate in front adorned with a string of little ruby hearts. On the back of the plate was engraved I belong to James.

“Oh,” Michelle said. “Nice!” Then she flushed, as embarrassment returned. She wanted to tell James how beautiful it was, how much she appreciated his gift. But she still felt too drained to find the right words. What she could do, though, is take the necklace from its case with a gesture that invited James to take it from her and fasten it around her neck. “Thank you,” she said. She couldn’t kiss him, not with the hood over his face, but she could smile at him with her eyes glowing and her heart pounding.

“You’re welcome,” James said, his voice a bit husky. Michelle shivered, and then pressed herself against James again. For warmth. For love. She felt his arms tight around her, and heard his own heart beating.

“I need to put the rest of my clothes on,” Michelle said at last. She continued to press against James. “In just a minute.”

“In just a minute,” James agreed, continuing to hold her.

(to be continued - Real Soon Now...)