Alexander Carpenter was envious of the beastesses, and he hated himself for it.
Standing at the edge of the gallery balcony that encircled the pit, he had a clear view into the floor of the walled-off arena as the crowd jostled around and below him. Stale sweat, cheap beer, and a lingering metallic scent permeated the nightclub, which had been repurposed for this evening’s fights.
Club Demiurge, a former three-story factory converted into a nightclub, was somehow both spacious and cramped at the same time. Cramped due to the drunken people gathered around to watch, yet spacious because the massive concrete dance floor had been cleared for the upcoming fight. The arena space was the size of two basketball courts, with tall steel barricades put up around the perimeter to form a massive caged wall twelve feet high, extending higher than the balcony railing towards the bare girders of the ceiling. The barricades occasionally crackled with cyan electrical sparks—likely coming from the magitech imbued in them to add an extra layer of magical reinforcement.
At opposite corners of the arena, way farther apart than it would seem the two fighters needed to be, two sweaty tall muscular women in sports bras and workout shorts were hunched over in the darkness and mentally preparing for the bout ahead. Both of them were draped in large flowing shawl-like cloths with elaborate stitch-work designs, clearly intended to be decorative even when a simple towel would suffice.
Alex had never actually seen an in-person beastess fight before, but from his intelligence briefings, readings, and the whispered rumors he wasn’t supposed to hear, those decorated cloths weren’t just for showing off to the crowd—they served a religious purpose. Despite their low social status and sinful recreations, beastesses treated fights with the same level of ceremony as a presbyter conducting Sunday Mass.
Of course, as obsessed with them as he was, Alex only studied what he needed to about the beastesses. The customs of pagans didn’t appeal to him beyond what was strictly necessary for missions.
That’s what he told the other cadets at the academy, anyway.
His actual reason for his beastess fixation? They were strong.
And Alex wanted to be strong too.
He counted himself lucky to even be here to see them. The fights never stayed in one location for too long, always rotating from venue to venue to avoid the watchful eye of the paladins. Sometimes it was in a nightclub, sometimes a junkyard, and Alex had even heard rumors of one in another city that had taken place in a boiler room. You had to be told where and when they were happening, often mere hours beforehand. The only reason he was here at all was because he had been assigned to a special undercover mission.
Bishop Ironside had called him into his office and informed him of a tip they had gotten. Said that Alex seemed like the right cadet for the job. Getting the mission had felt like a back-handed compliment—he wasn’t strong enough to do the tough assignments his fellow cadets usually got, so here’s something even a weakling like him could handle.
Still, Alex was grateful for the opportunity to impress the bishop, and even more grateful for a legitimate reason to see beastesses in their element. A reason to see them for longer than just passing them on the street as they glared down at him in his cadet paladin uniform.
Thank God he wasn’t wearing it here. Instead, to blend in, Alex had chosen his rattiest pair of jeans, a white undershirt, and a black zip-up hoodie. He had ruffled his normally neatly-combed short hair to give it some volume, and it kinda worked? He didn’t really spend too much time looking in the mirror nowadays anyway. He hated his scrawny body. Too much weakness on display.
Although he had seemingly accomplished his goal of not standing out, looking around at the crowd when he had entered, he maybe could have put a bit more effort into his appearance. He saw punk battle vests, dyed hair, and fishnets nearly everywhere he looked.
From his estimation, about a fifth of the attendees there had some sort of magitech augmentation—a bionic arm here, some mirror-shaded eye implants there—which created eerie magical phosphorescent glows that matched the garish colors of the nightclub’s neon lights. Debasements of the flesh which sent a shudder through his spine to witness.
He kept one hand close to his concealed weapon at all times. Thankfully the academy had provided him with something to compensate for his lack of physical strength. It was little comfort.
When Alex had descended the narrow staircase to the basement entrance of the nightclub at the start of this evening, he had felt like a submarine exploring the darkest bottom of the ocean, vastly unprepared and doing his best to stay hidden from any predators lurking in the dark.
He felt like prey. The feeling twisted in his gut like a knife blade.
A bell rang, which elicited a round of applause from the crowd. The combatants at either corner stood up as their ceremonial cloths were removed by their assistants.
To his left, a woman who he guessed was about six feet—which was a half-foot taller than him, he thought as he squeezed the railing in frustration—stood up from her stool and shrugged her shoulders as she entered the spotlight that had appeared before her. She had long ginger red hair that was tied up in a messy ponytail, and magitech ocular implants which gave her eyes an emerald green shine in the dim lighting. She was far more athletic than Alex, for sure, but in a very lean way, almost like a gymnast. Rather than getting into a standard boxing stance, she just squared up and stared down her opponent across the pit.
In the opposite corner, a slightly shorter yet stockier woman bounced from foot to foot in excitement with a wild grin on her face as she stood up. Her jet-black hair was done up into a messy wild mohawk and dyed alternating stripes of bright red, almost like a mane. She too stepped into her own spotlight and flexed her biceps, which elicited louder cheers from the audience.
Both women were in peak physical condition and had a surprising amount of muscle for their size—something that Alex couldn’t seem to put on no matter how much he worked out or ate. His body seemed to reject his every attempt to get stronger.
From what he had read, beastesses claimed that their gifts came from the Goddess of the Hunt, a blessing of wild magic from their patron deity. Why exactly did they get to be supposedly rewarded for their pagan nonsense from their false deity, while he prayed every single night to God to grant him strength?
What did they do to deserve it? What was he missing? What sin of his birth did he need to repent for?
The longer he stared down at these two beautiful strong women, the more his envy grew.
It cemented him in place like a tightly wound rubber band of frustration, as the outside world gradually dissolved into a fog.
He would never be as strong as them. He didn’t deserve it.
And nothing could ever change his mind about—
“They’re pretty sexy, huh?”
Alex snapped out of his self-hating spiral. Blinking a couple of times first, he turned to his left, to the source of that raspy alto voice, and his jaw dropped.
Wow.
She’s huge!
The woman leaning on the balcony railing next to him was easily seven feet tall, maybe even more. Her towering figure was the dictionary definition of ‘Amazonian’—muscular yet feminine, curvaceous yet brawny, a hulking hourglass, a mountain of a woman. Her leather vest showed off her gigantic bare upper arms, her grease-stained tank top clung to her broad shoulders and ample chest for dear life, and her wide hips pressed tight against her ripped jeans, each thigh as big as Alex’s torso.
She had golden yellow eyes and an undercut on one side of her head, with medium-length purple hair flowing down the opposite side. Three long jagged scars started from her forehead underneath her hair and ran diagonally downwards across her face, which tilted to one side as she smiled down at Alex. Her prominent canine teeth—combined with, well, the rest of her—only confirmed in Alex’s mind that she was indeed a beastess. And she was by far the biggest one he had ever seen before.
She looked like she could probably snap his spine in half like a twig.
Holy fuck.
Alex involuntarily blushed as a twinge of guilt rushed through his mind, realizing what he had just thought. He filed it away for a confession session after the mission. God would forgive him. He hoped.
The massive woman tilted her head back and let out a barking laugh.
“By that look on your face, I’d say you agree!”
Avoiding her gaze, Alex stammered, “Y-yes. They’re quite attractive.”
“That’s putting it lightly. Beastesses can be animals in bed,” she said with a wink.
“Um! Uh … right …” The joke flew right over his head as shame flooded his mind.
The taller woman’s expression softened as she said, “Hope I’m not bothering you. You just looked a bit lonely, and it’s kinda my job to keep an eye on the crowd.” She extended a hand. “Name’s Syd. I help run things around here. What’s your name?”
Wait. Syd?
Something clicked in Alex’s mind: the briefing!
Sydney Beaumont: seven-foot-six, known beastess, suspected affiliate and enforcer for the city’s most notorious Pack. She’s evaded inquisition and conviction for years, and is a nasty thorn in the Church’s side.
This was his target!
He can’t just say his real name. He’s undercover. That would be stupid.
First name that comes to mind, just say it—
“… I-I’m Lexi.” He took her hand and shook it, trying not to wince as she nearly crushed the bones in his fingers.
“‘Lexi,’ huh? Is that short for Alexandra?” Syd gave him a big warm grin when she saw his eyes go wide, and let go of his hand. “Don’t worry, I’m just teasing! So, been having a good time this evening?”
Alex, still not used to the pseudonym he just came up with, said, “Yeah, sorta, but um … I don’t really know anyone here.”
“First time seeing a beastess fight, I take it?”
“Yeah.” It was the truth, but also a convenient ploy to get more info. “Would you happen to know—”
“Oh wait, hold that thought, the fight’s starting!”
Alex looked back down at the arena, and if he had been blushing hard before, his face was positively crimson now.
Both fighters were completely naked.
Their workout clothes were thrown into small piles at either corner of the arena, and as they slowly approached the center the spotlights followed their movement. Their trained physiques were even more impressive on full display like this. Where did they get the utter confidence to be so … vulnerable like this, in front of hundreds of people?
The taller red-haired woman’s glowing green magitech eyes met the regular brown ones of her opponent, and after a pause she gave a stoic nod as a greeting. Clearly they were acquainted. She brought one fist up in front of her, and the shorter mohawk-haired woman grinned and fist-bumped her in response. Both of them maintained their gaze on the other as they both backed away until they were several yards apart again.
Shaking his head to clear it from the intrusive thoughts clouding his mind, Alex eventually remembered the simple reason for why beastesses never fought in ceremonial fights with clothes on.
The room quieted down. Anticipation hung in the air for a brief moment that somehow felt like an eternity.
Silence.
Then, shattering the tension like a starting gun, the bell from earlier rang once again. The crowd erupted into wild whoops and cheers as they spilled their drinks, hungry for bloodshed.
The fighters immediately crouched to the concrete on all fours. Their muscles flexed and contracted, contorting a bit too much and too fast to look comfortable at all. They panted and grit their teeth. Sweat dripped down their skin, which rippled and pulsed in the spotlight.
Alex squinted, then opened his eyes wide in amazement. They’re—they’re shifting!
Fur erupted all over the naked forms of the two women, orange-red and tan respectively, as their bodies stretched and grew before Alex’s very eyes. The orange-furred woman’s nose and jaw morphed into a fanged snout full of sharper teeth, while the tan-furred woman’s mohawk turned into a black and red mane that extended down her upper back.
Fresh sharp claws scratched the concrete. Ears elongated. Bones popped into place. Muscles bulked up to an impossible degree.
Fleshy appendages grew from the base of their spines, only to be covered in fur as they became fully-fledged tails.
The fighters finished their metamorphosis and brought themselves up to their full heights. Inside this magically-caged arena now stood two incredibly massive creatures—a red fox and a spotted hyena, both almost twice as large as their human forms.
Deep, feral, roaring growls of agony and ecstasy escaped the throats of the two gigantic beastesses and reached a crescendo pitch that perfectly synchronized with the audience’s frenzied cheering.
The sight was bewitching. So much so that, in that moment, all of the mental training, all of the reminders he told himself that these were sinful heathens and practitioners of demonic witchcraft, all of the hyper-vigilance of his mind pounded into him by the academy simply … vanished.
The envy, the shame, the self-hatred. It all melted away, as they sublimated into something pure, heavenly, and raw:
Desire.
The desire … to change.
Alex Carpenter had never been more turned on in his life.
“Hey Lexi!”
He jumped, forgetting that Syd was still there. His hand instinctively gripped where his weapon lay hidden on his person.
“Listen—meet me at the bar during intermission.” Syd’s golden eyes briefly looked him up and down before returning to meet his gaze, and she flashed a wolfish grin. “I love getting to know fresh meat.”
She gave him a wave as she made her way through the crowd, which parted for her as she slid her way around people with surprising grace. Benefits of being tall, he supposed.
The bell rang three times in a row, and the crowd’s yells and screams reached a fever pitch as he was pressed in on all sides up against the balcony. Alex turned back to the fight just in time to catch the gargantuan fox and hyena creatures running on all fours straight at each other.
The beastess women summoned all of their wild strength, channeling it into their lumbering yet agile musculature, salivating, panting, teeth bared, ears flat against their skulls, their eyes locked on the other, the fury in their faces reflecting an instinctual drive to rip and tear and fight and hunt, until they collided with enough force to feel like an earthquake, rumbling the balcony under his feet.
Even as these beastesses fought with jaws that could crush his rib cage in one bite and claws that could tear through non-magitech plate armor like tissue paper, even as a fight he never thought he would witness in his wildest dreams played out in front of him, Alex couldn’t take his mind off of Syd’s parting words.
Was it just his imagination, or did she sound a bit … hungry?