My name is Rayce. I'm a fighter pilot. My mother was probably an otter, back when Earth still had those. My father was a mixture of atoms concocted by human scientists and designed to provide me with the exact characteristics they wanted me to have. That was back when humans were still on top. They thought they could do anything then.

A couple centuries ago my kind could never have existed. Mankind had moved from an era of juggernaut progress and obsessive thirst for new technologies to a long tranquil dream when coexistence was the key. Kinder, gentler, love thy neighbor, stop and smell the roses -- one big happy planet. The kind of genetic experimentation that eventually yielded creatures like myself was taboo, and anyone who even suggested delving into the secrets of the genome was criticized for "playing God."

Then, one day Man woke up from his collective dream and discovered he was God. Technology had given him the ability to create his own miracles, and it wasn't long before he realized that he had the power to create life in his own image. It started out small, birth defects and plastic surgeries and such. But as people grew more comfortable with the newfound ability to manipulate nature they grew more arrogant. Almost overnight the world became a plaything, a vast ball of multicolored clay to be shaped and molded at Humanity's whim. Damn the environment, to Hell with the cute fuzzy animals. We have a manifest destiny to fulfill and they're getting in the way.

That sort of power did not come without trouble, though. Wars that had once been fought over what name to give a church were now fought over who owned the exclusive rights to which technology. For all of his advances, Man had not really changed all that much. All that had changed was his new loftier opinion of himself.

That's where we came in. After all, humans had become far too important to let them dirty their hands with menial jobs like warfare and cleaning the privies, and machines somehow just weren't very satisfying. Then somewhere along the line someone decided to create hybrid subspecies in order to take over the sort of tasks that humans were now too proud to be bothered with. The logic of the plan was simple. For millennia Man had used lower animals to work for him. The next obvious step was to create a better animal that could be put to many tasks. A smarter world required smarter labor, but labor that could still be lorded over and scorned. Humans never did manage to get around their basic need for something to dominate. There were some dissenting voices at first, mostly old people who longed for the old days when everyone wanted to live in harmony with Nature. Nobody listened to them, though, and eventually they all died off. I wish I could have met one of them, but the last were gone before my time.

Thus came about the modern warrior. Recombinant soldier, Air tactical division, Y-series, number CE-9481. That's where "Rayce" comes from. RAYCE-9481, though the numbers were only ever used on paperwork. Like I said, I'm a fighter pilot. That is, I was, back before everything fell apart. I can't help feeling sorry for humans. For them, it was a long, long way to fall.

I was still young and in the middle of pre-military training when the Arch fell from the sky. The compound where the members of my series were being educated wasn't far from the place it landed. I didn't see it land, myself, but some of the others did. They said it looked like a meteor coming down, except as it neared the ground its speed diminished, until it settled down as gently as someone setting a vase on a desktop. It caused quiet a stir -- and several deaths, since the spot it landed on had been occupied by a row of flats -- and for sure the military would have loved to cover it up had its arrival not been witnessed by so many. Images flashed around the world within seconds, and for days afterward it was the topic of conversation for just about everyone on the planet.

The biggest question, of course, was where it had come from. Despite the trillions spent on watching the heavens for some theoretical asteroid that was supposed to smash the planet to bits someday, nobody had seen this thing coming. It had not even registered on any monitoring stations until it was well within the planet's atmosphere. That led to speculation that it was not an extraterrestrial object at all, but a locally-manufactured one, deposited in the midst of a moderately-sized city by mistake, or perhaps as some sort of demented joke.

As for what it was, there were as many opinions as there were humans on the planet. What they all agreed upon was that it was big, a monstrous bulk as tall as a skyscraper. Something else that everyone agreed upon was that it was utterly beautiful. It stood in the shape of a massive archway, carved from what looked like white marble and covered all over with the most delicate and intricate patterns. It looked as though it had been plucked out of time from some ancient civilization, where it had stood to mark a triumphant victory over a powerful enemy.

It wasn't long before some prominent industrialists stepped forward to announce that they had deduced the origin of the Arch, which they had artistically christened "The Gateway to Heaven". It had indeed been sent from afar, they proclaimed, as a gift to humanity by some far-off intellect which had finally taken notice of Man's remarkable technological achievements. They believed that it was intended to stand as a monument in recognition of Mankind's advancement, and that it represented a promise that its makers would one day descend to heap laurels upon humanity's proud brow. That it had killed a dozen of the people that it was supposed to glorify was excused as a simple unfortunate miscalculation on the part of the benefactors. That the same industrialists had managed through various means to acquire nearly all of the property within site of the Arch and had then sold it off at an astronomical profit was probably less of a miscalculation. The end result was that both they and the city itself became staggeringly rich. Enriched by people's insatiable desire to see this extraplanetary wonder up close, the soil for miles sprouted houses and shops and ever-larger buildings. I couldn't recognize a single landmark when I was assigned to the area years later after my flight training was finished.

Seasons went by. The Arch remained as pretty as ever and people continued to flock to it in wonder. Its "owners" discouraged any attempt by scientists to study it, preferring to keep its mystique intact. And why not? Every new claim about its mysterious properties brought in millions of fresh visitors with their fresh new money. Someone proclaimed that the Arch had miraculous healing powers. Someone else decided at one point that it could speak to people's minds if only they were pure enough to listen. Maybe it did and maybe it didn't. All I know is that it didn't surprise me one bit when my squadron was scrambled one day just before the midday meal with orders to make straight for the Arch with all speed.

We were met with an amazing sight. The sun was bright that day and the Arch glistened and gleamed white as always, but the space in its interior had filled with a thick, dark-gray pall. My onboard computer readout informed me that witnesses had reported seeing an aircraft fly between the legs of the Arch -- a common enough occurrence -- before great billows of smoke began to rise up. It seemed likely that a negligent or inexperienced pilot had made a wrong move and crashed, but we could not rule out the possibility that it had been a deliberate act of terrorism. That's why my squadron had been called out.

I was ordered to circle the Arch and report the position of the wreckage. I complied and made two close passes, and realized that there was no wreckage to be seen. The ornate gardens that were so lovingly tended near the monument's base were pristine and unscathed. Furthermore, the smoke that rolled and plumed was not rising from the ground. It seemed to be originating from a point in space within the interior of the Arch itself and spreading outward.

Security forces on the ground had set up barricades a short distance away, but the area beyond was swarming with curious onlookers, thousands of them. I will not say that I had any tremendous affection for humankind in those days, but their safety and security was nevertheless my responsibility. "Something's up, Base," I said into my com unit. "I don't like the look of this at all. Best to have those people moved back until we have a better idea of..."

I never got the rest of the sentence off. The smoke that was swirling about inside the Arch suddenly went from gray to white, and then something stepped out of it into the open. I was startled to see that she was similar to my species, a female, and an unbelievably beautiful one at that. If my kind had been allowed to choose our own mates in those days she would have been my first choice. That, and if she hadn't been more than a hundred feet tall.

It took me longer than it should have to recover from my shock. Apart from her size she could easily have been one of my kind, all sleek musteline grace with just enough feline thrown in to make it interesting. She wore a sort of Roman-looking wrap, and carried in her hands a box that was as large as a modest house. It looked as though one of the great mythic beings who had sent the Arch in the first place had finally come around to bring Mankind the laurels he'd wanted for so long.

Then she shattered the illusion. I watched with horror as she strode forward, stepping on the surrounding onlookers as though not even noticing them. Dozens died as she walked, never once looking down, leaving awful footprints in the crowd behind her. After a few steps she halted and set her box down, right in the thick of the panicked throng. It must have weighed tons; those who fell beneath it were pressed utterly flat in the space of a heartbeat.

The order to fire came a second time. I realized that I had been staring, too transfixed by the ghastly images below to think clearly. My training took over then, and I opened my throttle full and dove for her. "Sorry, My Dear," I said out loud. "You are lovely, but you have got to go." I set my particle beams on their widest dispersion and squeezed the trigger.

I saw them hit squarely in the middle of her back. She should have been left with a hole large enough for me to fly my fighter through, but to my amazement she simply stooped and opened her box along a hidden seam. I might as well have hit her with a flashlight beam. I banked hard and came around again, this time drawing in close for a second shot. I watched in dismay as the beams struck and simply dissipated, like water evaporating from a hot sidewalk. As I swept past her I saw a gleam of light at the back of her neck, a row of lights dancing in a pattern, and I realized that the thin necklace she wore about her neck was more than a simple vanity. "She's got an E.M. field of some sort up," I reported. "The control's around her neck. Switching to conventionals."

Her tail rose up on my right, forcing me to bank away to avoid it. The maneuver offered me a look inside the box, which was filled with the same sort of white mist that was still swirling inside the Arch. I saw her peer into its depths, and then she crouched and leaned forward, reaching down with one hand into the fleeing crowd. Her fingers gathered up a mass of struggling bodies, which she examined closely for a second before lowering them toward the box and dropping them inside.

The ground forces had recovered by this time and had begun firing. I could see sparks flashing all over her body like a swarm of fireflies, but never once did I see an impact in her fur or a rustling in her clothing. I felt a chill of dread deep inside, and my fears were confirmed when missiles flew from the arriving fighters and exploded upon her back. Plumes of fire blossomed across her back, each curling back on itself, each burning out just short of its mark. She ignored them, probably never even felt them, as she continued to gather handful after handful of struggling people and drop them into the misty depths of the box. I was struck by the serene expression she wore. Completely unaware of the firepower being thrown at her, she looked for all the world like a seamstress scooping some fallen bobbins and putting them back into their package.

Yet this was no seamstress, and what was being scooped up were living, screaming human beings. I felt my stomach knot up as each handful was lifted into the air, the bodies tangled together and kicking madly, and then all at once dropped with cruel indifference into the mist. It was an indescribably helpless feeling, knowing that all the weaponry in my ship couldn't stop her.

Then an idea came to me. "Come about," I shouted into my comm. "Hit her in the face as hard as you can. She won't feel it, but maybe the flashes will blind her long enough that the civilians can get away. I peeled off and came around, the other two fighters falling in on my wingtips. "Steady on...now." I squeezed both triggers and watched the air in front of her face blossom into a broad orange fireball.

It worked. We got her attention.

I started to pull up, and suddenly found her face rising up over the flames. She looked cross. With a jerk of the yoke I banked, and saw my wingman's ship suddenly snatched from the air like a toy. The giantess raised her arm high and then hurled the battered fighter to the ground. It blew into a million pieces on impact, leaving only a small, black plume of smoke mushrooming skyward. Cursing, I angled to come around again, just in time to see her seize the other fighter in her hand. This time she was more deliberate. With a sharp flick of her finger she sent the fighter's engine hurtling off into the distance. Fortunately the pilot ejected. I watched his chute vanish into the smoke-filled street below as the giantess added the disabled ship to the terrible collection in the box. My relief crumbled, though, as she turned back and raised one dainty foot high, and then lowered it into the smoke where I had last seen the pilot. I could almost see the buildings on either side shudder with the impact.

"I'm on my own. Two down. I'm going to try to keep her busy." With that I jammed the throttle open and came at her from above, once more surrounding her head with blinding fire. I peeled off quickly as her hand swept through the air behind me, rocking my ship with turbulence. I smiled coldly and muttered, "Gotcha, Babe," feeling like a mosquito harassing an unlucky picnicker.

Unfortunately, just like a mosquito, my luck soon ran out. I saw her hand loom over my canopy and sweep downward, and I was just a split- second too slow to react. The ship rocked violently and its nose jerked upward. I could hear metal groaning around me. Alarms went off and every warning light on my console started to glow. Smoke poured into the cabin. I knew that it was time to abandon ship. With one hand I yanked the canopy release, and with the other I jerked the handle on the ejection system.

It felt like I had been thrown beneath a piledriver. My spine must have compressed six inches. I felt most of the blood rush to my tail, where the muscles reflexively tightened up to force it back to my head -- yet another triumphant design feature of my kind. The world around me spun crazily, a dizzying rush of black smoke and glowing flame and sky all jumbled together. My helmet got torn away by the rush of wind. There was a snap as the chute finally bloomed over me, and the world around me steadied and fell into focus. I saw the city stretching beneath me, and noted with relief that most of the populace had fled to a safer distance. Only a few stragglers remained, and they were beating a hasty retreat. Columns of smoke rose here and there from where falling wreckage had set buildings ablaze.

Then a face rose up and filled my field of view. I don't remember clearly, but I think I started screaming. It was her face, terrifyingly close, only a few yards away from me. It was rising slowly as I floated down past it, her eyes narrowed and studying me evenly, her head lowering to follow my descent until she was looking straight down at me. I felt more terror than I'd ever thought possible. All my training told me that you never release the straps on your harness until you're on the ground; those straps held me trapped in the chair at that moment, her body looming larger and larger as I floated down in front of her chest. It was more than I could take. I had to get away, even if it meant jumping to my death. I clawed for the release, ripping my flight suit to shreds as I fumbled with the straps, until finally they fell away and I was free. Without a second's pause I leaped out of the seat and dove into open air.

I expected that it would take a long time to fall, so I was shocked to land on solid ground after less than half a second. Dazed and befuddled, I rose to my hands and knees and looked about. The ground under me was not so solid. It felt like leather, warm and yielding like the sofa in the squadron lounge. Over there a few tufts of dark fur were visible in a crevice. I realized with alarm that I was in her hand.

She was staring down at me. I could feel her eyes. Shaking, I fought to keep hold of my senses. She had to have known that I had been the one shooting at her. I expected any minute to be crushed like a grape in her fist.

The blow didn't come. There was an eerie, unnerving silence. Even though I could see the missiles from the rest of the squadron bursting in the air around me they made no sound. It was as if I was watching a training film in which the volume had been turned off. Eventually I found the courage to look up and meet her gaze, and as I did her hand began to close. Here it comes, I thought. Her fingers swept over me and came down, pressing me into her palm. Her fist surrounded me, all dark except for a few slivers of light that trickled between her fingertips. I tried to squirm, and she started to squeeze. It didn't take any more of a warning than that to make me hold still. I was her prisoner.

I don't know how much time passed. I could see light flashing and sweeping past outside, and could feel the hand that held me lifting and turning as she went about whatever business had brought her here. Obviously she meant to capture people, but I had no clue as to why. Hostages for an invasion? Not likely. Someone with her defensive capabilities wouldn't need hostages. I hadn't seen anything that looked like a weapon on her, but then again, at her size she was a weapon. Once in a while I tried to move just enough to poke my nose out from between her fingertips to see what was happening, but each time her fist tightened around me and held me fast, leaving me no choice but to sit and brood and wonder.

Some time later I saw some wisps of fog seep into the gaps between her fingers, and I abruptly felt as though I were falling. I thought she'd dropped me, but the sensation passed within a second and I found that I was still held tightly in the grip of her hand. I realized with a sudden rush of sound that I could hear again. It was startling after such a prolonged silence, and then moreso when her hand suddenly turned upright and her fingers opened. I sat up, blinking in burning bright light, to look out over a dazzling alien landscape.

Looming nearby I could see others of her kind who looked at first as though they were floating in a white void, and then as my eyes adjusted I realized that there were tables ahead of them, their white tops covered with huge, unfathomable machinery. I saw her box in the distance, or one much like it. Below it rested a cage in which huddled a mass of human beings, the same ones no doubt that had been captured during the fight. As I watched, a female dressed similarly to my captor stepped forward and reached into the cage. The people inside scrambled wildly as she withdrew a thrashing man from their midst and lifted him into the air. With cold, clinical detachment, she dropped him into a plastic hopper mounted on the tabletop and pressed her thumb to its base. The man's body disintegrated in a terrible spray of red while incomprehensible characters scrolled past on a readout below.

My captor began to speak. At the time I wouldn't have even recognized it as language. It was a keening sound that made the fur stand up all over my body. In response, another giant drew closer. This one was a male, naked from the waist up and heavily muscled. She raised the hand in which I was held, and he lowered his muzzle down alarmingly close and squinted at me. I didn't move -- I couldn't. I only stared, frozen, at his cool expression and listened to the bizarre exchange of growls and trills that assailed my ears. I could tell that the male was displeased, and the root of his agitation seemed to be me. Several times he bared his teeth, the gleam of his fangs almost enough to make me faint from sheer fright. The female who held me never wavered, however. Eventually the male snorted, his breath blasting over me like a hurricane, and turned away. My captor raised me then to her own face, and her expression was different. Softer somehow, warmer. I saw it only for a moment before her fist closed around me, and I was once more a prisoner in her hand.

When her fingers finally opened again I was in a different place, huge and echoing, like an aircraft hangar. It was obviously her quarters. A bed, big as a city block, lay in the distance. There was a platform extending from one wall that seemed to serve as a desk. The furnishings were a uniform white -- that seemed to be popular around here. Only the instruments on the desk and a few strands of dark fur on the bed broke up the monotony of the color scheme.

My captor was holding me up closer to her face again, her eyes focused intently on me. This time I managed to stand my ground before that overwhelming gaze and remembered my training. "RAYCE nine- four-eight-one," I barked, trying to keep the quiver from my voice. "Major, Royal Air Force."

She did not reply. In fact, she showed no sign of having heard me, let along understanding me. Her gaze softened though, and her other hand appeared, index finger with its broad, blunt claw moving toward me. I backed up and dropped to a fighting stance purely on instinct, and then I realized what I was doing and started to laugh bitterly. How the hell was I going to try to fight? Obviously at her mercy, I stood up straight and tried to keep still while her finger came forward. The gentleness with which it touched my fur surprised me. I think it was at that point that I recognized that she wasn't going to try to interrogate me, at least not at that moment. I had been trained endlessly on what to do when taken prisoner, but none of the training had included skyscraper-giantesses with such a light touch.

Her claw stroked slowly upward, brushing aside the shreds of my ruined flight suit and exposing the white fur of my chest. It stopped there, interested, then slipped inside and tugged the fabric back. The material began to tear further and she stopped, frowning a little. She drew her finger away and then pressed it to my back, sliding it downward, over my rump and down my tail. I couldn't help shivering. "What do you want?" I said before I even realized I was speaking.

Again she did not answer, and just continued to explore me with her fingertip. I must have been a curiosity to her, a miniature version of one of her kind. The only visible difference I could see, in fact, was that she had hair like a human's on her head, long tresses that fell down her back, a striking red against her otherwise dark grey coat. That was probably why she had taken me...and why I had not wound up in the cage with the humans. I remembered what had happened to one in particular, his body torn to pieces by whirling blades while one of these giant creatures watched, and I wondered how long it would be before the curiosity wore off and I was subjected to the same treatment.

The first duty of a prisoner of war is to escape. "You've got to put me down sometime, Beautiful," I said to myself. "Once you do, I'm gone, and when I come back I'm bringing the troops."

I kept my mind on that though while she continued to examine me, and stood stiffly at attention while her fingers wandered over my body. It was a little uncomfortable when her claw brushed over my groin but I managed to keep my composure. Then her finger slipped into the gaps in my flight suit and began to tug outward firmly. That was going too far. "Forget it, Lady," I growled, and braced my hands on her finger and shoved hard.

That turned out to be a mistake. Her finger, as big as my body, did not budge and I managed only to push myself backwards. My flight suit caught on her claw. There was a loud ripping sound as the seam split, and the slashes in the suit's front panel widened and joined with one that had been opened up along the leg when I ejected. The suit now hung in two tattered halves, exposing much of my torso and my entire left leg.

My captor seemed terribly intrigued. She gripped a hanging flap of cloth and tugged at it experimentally. The motion pulled my body toward her, and I started kicking and trying to dig my heels in. She pulled harder. That made the fabric begin to tighten around my neck. It was getting hard to breathe. I squirmed and smacked at her finger and she let go, surprised. I stood panting in her palm, my suit barely holding together. Once more she reached for me, and this time I stepped back away. "All right, enough. You win. Here..."

Hurriedly I pulled the suit off and stepped out of it, kicking it toward the heel of her hand. She was definitely taken aback, but in a moment she picked the suit up delicately between her thumb and forefinger and turned it around, peering closely at it. Her attention was away from me, and for a moment I considered jumping out of her hand and taking my chances. She began walking, though, carrying me toward the desk, her hand cupping around me as though she anticipated my plan.

She placed the suit on the desk and began to tap her fingers upon a wide oval disk set into the surface. The wall above suddenly came alive with shifting, intricate characters which I guessed were some sort of alphabet. They raced by far too quickly for me to see them clearly. After a moment she lifted her fingers from the plate and the wall went blank once more. Then her attention turned back to me.

For a long time she watched me, fascinated. I couldn't do much but stare back, and finally I just sat down in her hand and looked away. "Glad I'm so interesting," I grumbled. "The least you could do is say something." Not that I'd be able to understand it, but the unwavering scrutiny was becoming unnerving, moreso now that I was naked. In training they had said that the enemy would often deprive a prisoner of clothing in order to increase his sense of vulnerability. Whether it was her intent or not, this girl had pretty well mastered that tactic.

At last she looked away, much to my relief. Her hand moved through the air. I could see the far-off walls shifting past as I was turned. She stooped, then stood again, and there was a metallic ringing sound. Her hand descended, and I saw that a huge cage had been placed upon the desktop. It was just like the one the humans had been corralled in, and the sight of it sent a wave of terror through me. I feared that her interest in me had waned and that now I was just another little captive to be dissected and studied. Frantically I tried to crawl along her hand as it moved inside the cage, but her fingers caught my legs and held them to her palm, until her hand tilted to the side and I was dumped onto the cage floor. Her hand retreated faster than I could run, and the metal door clanged shut. I jumped forward and grasped the bars in my hands, shaking them violently, but they were heavy and did not budge. I was trapped. Fearfully I watched as she turned and strode away, her long tail curling behind her with each step, until I lost sight of her as she passed through a doorway.

I spent the next hours in a vain attempt to find a way out of the cage. The bars were solid and unyielding, the welds that held them together too secure. Even the immense power in my tail was not enough to bend them. I reached through the bars to try to push the latch open but it was as useless as trying to push a mountain. Finally, exhausted and beaten, I settled down to the floor of the cage and waited.

At some point I must have fallen asleep, because I opened my eyes suddenly to find my captor towering over me. I sat up with a cry and backed up against the bars behind me. Her hand came down and touched the latch on the door; there was the click of a locking mechanism, and she swung the door open and reached for me. I was helpless to do anything but cower back as her fingers surrounded me. My earlier experience had taught me that to struggle would only make her squeeze harder. I was not of a mind to test just how tightly she would squeeze, so I allowed myself to be caught and lifted from the cage. She held me just long enough to arrange some items in the cage before placing me back inside and closing the door.

The new furnishings surprised me. They were not what I would have expected from a prison cell; in fact, they were better than the barracks I had known all my life. She had placed some sort of foam pad on the floor that my feet sank comfortably into. A pillow made of the same material lay in the corner; apparently that was to be my bed. A shallow sandbox lay in the corner, its purpose obvious. A squat cylinder with a pool of water atop it had been placed beside a tray with many small indentations in it. I wandered closer, intrigued by the aroma emanating from the tray, and found a variety of foodstuffs along with some other curious items, everything from some small worms to a chunky gray material, all arranged carefully in separate compartments.

She was watching me. It was clear that she wanted to learn what manner of food I ate. There was no denying that I was hungry, but I was also wary of providing her with any information at all that she might somehow use. I had witnessed the monstrous way in which she and her kind had treated humanity, and there was no doubt in my mind that whatever these creatures were, they meant no charity toward Mankind. I made up my mind then that these plush surroundings were intended to put me off my guard so that I would give up secrets, even subtle information such as what we ate, so that perhaps our food supply could be poisoned. Well, she would get no such data from me. I stood stubbornly and refused to even acknowledge her offering. Even after she left me alone and returned a long time later the food was still untouched.

Her disappointment was obvious, further convincing me that I had deduced her plan. She removed the food tray from my cage and sat at the desk for some time, her fingers dancing along the metal plate while the strange script skipped by along the wall above. At length she stopped, stood up, and began to undress.

I paid very close attention. She might have been the enemy, but I can't deny that I found her stunningly beautiful, especially now as the thin wrap fell away and she stepped out of it. I found myself staring at the vast expanse of charcoal-gray fur, lighter upon her belly and upon those magnificent breasts, the long hair on her head cascading down like a red waterfall over it. It made me angry that I wasn't able to take my eyes off of her, and angrier still that I found my body responding to the sight. She was a monster, pure and simple, and here sat I with my heart pounding as I watched her nude form glide to the bed. She stretched out upon it, and suddenly all went dark. The room was silent, save for the sound of her deep breathing and the pounding of my own heart in my ears. After a while I crawled onto the pillow she had left for me and tried to sleep, but found that I could not drive the image of her unclad body from my mind. Only after I crept from my bed into the sandbox and used my hand to relieve some of the painful pressure from my loins was I finally able to relax enough to sleep.

When I awoke I hated myself, and resolved not to let myself be distracted again by such sordid desires, which I kept telling myself were dangerous as well as treasonous. My growing hunger helped to keep my body in check, the gnawing emptiness in my gut overwhelming any shameful reaction I might have felt when she stirred. I watched her sit up and stretch -- oh, what a sight that was! -- and then she stood and crossed the room toward me. She sat at her desk and leaned forward to rest her chin on her arm and gaze at me through the bars.

I gazed back, sprawled on my belly on my bed. I traced the delicate lines of her muzzle with my eyes and smirked hollowly. "Well, Beautiful," I said to her. "I don't know what you think you're going to get out of me. You aren't getting any information, so there's no point in keeping up the luxury treatment. You might as well go ahead and dissect me and get it over with." She didn't answer, didn't even blink. "Can you even understand me?" I tried. Again, there was no response. It angered me. "Look, Lady, how the hell am I supposed to give you what you want if I can't even make myself understood? Don't I at least have a right to know why I'm being held?"

This time she moved. The arm that supported her chin swung forward, and a furry finger slid its way slowly between the bars over me, curled down, and began to rub softly over the top of my head. I sighed and relaxed, slumping my shoulders resignedly. "Yeah, whatever, Miss," I said sullenly. "It feels good. I suppose I'll just enjoy it while it lasts."

After a moment she withdrew her finger and left the room, returning later with another food-tray which she placed into the cage close to my bed. I gave it a cold look and started to turn away from it, trying to ignore my burning hunger. Then abruptly I turned back. My eye had caught something new among the choices. I sat forward and stared at an open military ration can nestled between a pile of raw meat and an assortment of vegetables. Slowly I reached for it and picked it up. The lid had been cleanly removed, its outline still visible on the processed pulp inside. I had never liked this pitiful excuse for food, but how my mouth watered now! I could not fathom where she would have gotten this can, but then I remembered the captured fighter. This can must have been found in its survival kit when they examine their prize. I also remembered how the pilot had died, squashed like a bug beneath the foot of the creature that was now staring at me through the bars of a cage.

I did not want to eat, especially not this. I did not want to give her the satisfaction after a fellow soldier had died so horribly to bring it to me. I couldn't bear the thought of accepting it. My stomach burned agonizingly, though. How long had it been since my last meal? I tried to think. My captor must have realized that this can held a food product. That meant they must already have knowledge of what we ate. What could she possibly hope to learn from my choice of food, then, if only to discover what I wished to be fed? It made sense, considering the luxury of my surroundings. I didn't want to eat, yet I had to. I would starve if I did not. The first duty of a prisoner of war is to escape. The second is to survive.

Almost sobbing, I scooped the jellied protein out of the can and stuffed it into my mouth, swallowing it eagerly. Then I fell upon the tray and grabbed whatever I could, bolting it down, crying almost hysterically the whole time. When I had eaten my fill, I rushed to the bed and curled up tightly on it, blubbering, cursing myself and my weakness and wanting more than anything to die. My captor smiled, satisfied, and took away the ravaged tray. I hadn't touched the worms or any of the stuff I could not identify. At least she would know now what to offer me, damn her.

She was gone for a long time afterward, during which I slowly recovered. I told myself that I had done what needed to be done in order to survive, and that in doing so I had not compromised any secrets or yielded any information of value to the enemy. After a while I had gotten myself believe it.

When she returned she removed her wrap immediately and hung it on a hook high on the wall. That itself was a familiar gesture to me. My kind often wore clothing only when on duty, content with our fur for covering at other times. I stopped that line of thought quickly, and had to caution myself against thinking of her as being one of my own. That was the first sign that a prisoner of war was beginning to break. I could not help staring at her as she moved about the room, though, my eyes playing over every immense and graceful curve. I found myself wondering what it would be like to lie in that field of fur and just let its warmth surround me.

It was as though she had read my mind. At that moment she strode up to the cage, reached inside, and plucked me carefully from my bed. As usual I did not struggle, knowing what a waste of energy that would be, or maybe subconsciously I was anxious for the chance to see her this way up close. She rewarded my obedience by keeping her grip loose as she carried me over to the bed, though I knew that she could easily clamp down on me if I were to try to make a break for it. The bare floor rushed past below me as the air ruffled through the fur on my head. Her footsteps, though scaled proportionately to her dimensions, carried her forward at what was to me an incredible speed. Even if I were to slip free of her hand and survive the fall, I could never hope to outrun her. Escape was going to be a difficult task, if not impossible.

She sat down on the bed and sunk onto her back, and to my surprise she swung me over her body and released me onto the top of her chest. I was speechless. All I could do was stare at the landscape around me, two soft, white mountains on one side, her lovely face peering back at me on the other. Beneath my feet the "ground" began to rumble. She was purring, just as the females had during my scheduled matings. Her finger appeared beside me and began to stroke delicately up and down my arm. It was at that moment that I realized why she had taken me. She did not want information. She did not want a prisoner. She wanted a pet.

The revelation hit me like a bolt of lightning. A pet! I was enraged. I am an intelligent creature, damn it, not a stupid animal! Indignant, I scrambled away from her finger and jumped to my feet. "Now listen, Lady!" I snarled. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but I refuse to be treated like some kind...of..." My words trailed off as her thumb pressed against the front of my torso and her index finger against my back; they pinched together firmly and began to rub up and down, shifting my fur with their motion, kneading the tense muscles underneath like dough. I tried hard to finish my rant. "Some...kind of...oh, shit." The motion continued. Her purring thundered intoxicatingly around me. My vision was filled with the exquisite panorama of her face, her eyes gentle and affectionate. I groaned, helpless, and my body began to betray me.

Oh no, not now. I tried frantically to think of other things, to forcibly halt the heat that was rushing toward my loins. She mustn't see. What would I do if she saw? I could not allow it. I wanted to struggle, but my muscles wouldn't obey. My arms hung limply as her fingers caressed me, her purring hypnotizing me into submission. My whole body was limp, in fact, save for the one part that I desperately wanted to remain so. I could feel it beginning to push its way past the thick tuft of fur that shielded it. Down, boy, down. Not now, damn it all!

Mercifully she released me before too much was showing, and I dropped like a rag doll and sprawled out on my belly in an effort to hide my reaction. This made her smile, every one of her gigantic fangs gleaming, and she lowered two fingers to my back. They practically covered me from shoulders to tailbase as they pressed down on be and began to stroke. The motion made my body rock to and fro, working me down into her thick fur and making me groan weakly. I was fully hard now, and her fingers were rubbing me most pleasantly and terrifyingly against the rumbling expanse of her chest, soft strands sliding mercilessly across my most sensitive parts. Her warmth enveloped me. My feet were resting on one of her breasts; I could feel its surface yield as I pressed my toes into it. Her fur stretched out in a vast field ahead of me, and rising over it was her dainty muzzle with its soft lips and delicate pink nosepad blowing puffs of warm air over me.

It was too much. My body tightened almost painfully and heat gushed into my face. I shuddered through a release which seemed to last a full minute. When at last I had spent myself I was horrified and tried to lie still. I did not know what to do. The last thing that I wanted was for her to notice. I had no idea how she would react. She might be furious, and perhaps decide that I would not make such a fine pet after all.

Unable to think of anything else and anxious to distract her, I began to lick briskly at the thick carpet of fur in front of my nose. Immediately her fingers stopped moving on my back, halting at last the motion that was keeping me hard. I winced, still not certain how she might respond, and continued licking, smoothing down a little patch of fur. When I dared to glance up at her face I saw her smiling warmly, and I breathed a sigh of relief. As long as she did not notice the other moist spot in her fur I would be safe.

Her head turned abruptly and her purring stopped. I felt my stomach knot up, thinking that perhaps she had noticed, but her attention was on something in the distance that I could not see. Her hand came down on my back and her fingers pushed under me, gathering me into her fist once more, and she sat up on the edge of the bed. The hand that held me rested on her thigh, giving me a breathtaking view of her body, her breasts looming over my head commanding every ounce of my attention. It was a good thing that I had already spent myself or I would have been in trouble at that moment.

A shadow fell over us. Turning my head I was startled to see a titanic male approaching. He was huge and powerful, naked like she was, and he was peering intently at my mistress as he stepped forward. She stood up to greet him, her hand falling to her side as though she had forgotten about me. The male advanced and stood very close to her, and the two began a bizarre exchange of whistles and barks and groans overhead. I could not understand, of course, but the fingers that held me tightened. I fidgeted to try to relieve some of the pressure on my chest. Powerless, I could only rest there and listen to the unfathomable conversation above. The two towered high above me, my mistress's breasts obscuring anything above them. I began to grow a little uncomfortable with the position in which I was being held, or more accurately the nearby scenery. My mistress's hand had risen slightly and was holding me disconcertingly close to the male's groin. I found myself staring at a sheath large enough for me to crawl inside. The sheer size of what must be within and of the two massive hulks that hung beneath were enough to make anyone feel woefully inadequate.

The spell was broken when the male stepped back, leaving me flushed and feeling even smaller than I was. My mistress stood up and abruptly threw her arms around his waist. I was carried around and held against the small of his back, grunting as the hand clenched tighter around me. I looked up at the towering length of the male's back and could see that his arms had not moved from his sides. He was not returning the embrace. A few more words were exchanged, and the male then pushed himself away, turned his back and strode off, his heavy tail sweeping behind him. I stared after him as he vanished through the portal.

My mistress raised me up higher then and clasped her other hand around the one that held me. She pressed me to her chest and lowered her head toward me, but her eyes were tightly closed. I looked back, puzzled, to the doorway where the male had disappeared, wondering if he might return.

Without warning a great drop of water splashed onto my head. I sputtered and shook it off. It was warm and tasted salty as it ran down over my lips. I raised my head up in surprise to see that my mistress was crying. The sight stunned me. My head spun with conflicting emotions. This thing, this monster that had attacked my world and carried me off along with dozens of others, was now standing over me and weeping pitifully, tears coursing down her cheeks in two narrow streams. How could something that had treated me so tenderly and whose emotions now were being bared be the same being who had mounted such a destructive and murderous invasion of my city?

I was at a loss. I wanted to hate her. I wanted to punish her and her kind for the deaths they had caused, but my thirst for revenge was eroding rapidly with each tear she shed. Humanity seemed to be a far- off memory, and not even a pleasant one at that. "Don't cry," I found myself saying. "It's his loss."

I know she didn't understand me. My voice, in fact, was probably nothing more than a mouse's squeak to her. She opened her eyes, though, and gazed down at me, and then turned and carried me back to my cage. Releasing me within, she closed the door, then turned and threw herself onto the bed and began to sob.

For a long time I watched her through the bars of my cage. I did not have to understand the language to know what had transpired between the two. Her aching sobs could only have come from a broken heart. I had never experienced one myself...but then, I had also never really experienced love. Such a thing had always been discouraged as it was certain to cause complications with the breeding program. I felt like crying myself as I watched her mourn for the loss of something I had never had.

Until that moment.

The lights went out. I listened to her crying in the darkness for a long time until I fell asleep.

I awoke when the lights rose again. Mistress was stirring, too. She sat up and ran her fingers through her long hair. Turning briefly to cast a longing gaze at the door where she had last seen her lover, she heaved a deep sigh and then shuffled to her desk. She looked miserable as she began to tap away at the disk. Obviously her mind was not on her work. She was the picture of sorrow, and my heart went out to her.

I forgot all else at that moment. I wanted more than anything to comfort her. With my fist I struck at the bars of the cage until I caught her attention, and I peered back at her while making my tail flip around excitedly behind me. She smiled a little and leaned closer. Using all of the skills of the feline side of my genetics I rolled to my back and pawed at the air. Her smile widened, which is what I had been after.

She reached for the cage door and flicked it open, and I eagerly climbed into her hand. That simple gesture brought a little bit more light to her eyes, and she lifted me slowly to her face. I basked in the warmth of her gaze, and as she brought me closer I stretched my neck forward and touched my nose to her soft lips, and then gave her the tiniest, most delicate lick.

Mission accomplished. She laughed -- at least it sounded like one -- and shifted her hand to her shoulder, which I scampered onto. I had never felt quite so lighthearted, almost giddy. Surely what I was doing constituted a court-martial offense, providing aid and comfort to the enemy, but I no longer cared. If humanity had been wiser, they would have trained my heart as well as my body and mind. I felt that I was where I belonged, that a moral objective had been reached.

I played in her hair for a while as she worked, perching myself on the back of her neck and peeking out through the thick veil. Now and again she would shiver and giggle, and once when I gave her a playful nibble on the ear she chirped loudly and cringed. Her hand plucked me from the side of her head and lowered me to her lap, releasing me on top of her thigh. She rolled me to my back and pressed her finger down firmly on my belly. The message was clear. Stay, it said. Be good.

I obeyed. After all, it gave me the opportunity to gaze up at her mountainous cleavage and watch the patterns of light and shadow shift upon them with each breath she took. It was a stunning sight. I lay there happily, lounging in the warmth of her fur, the firmness of her thigh beneath it, and stared upward, taking it all in.

Then a scent wafted to my nostrils, and instantly every nerve in my body began to tingle. I knew that scent. Even though I had only experienced it a few times before I knew it well. I had smelled it in my dreams. I had breathed it in during each scheduled mating. It was irresistible, overpowering. Sitting up straight, I let my gaze trail down her belly to where the fur grew thickest, and then lower to where there was no fur at all. There, barely visible, was soft, delicate pink. The scent grew stronger as I rolled to my belly and slithered toward it like a snake, my tail stretched out straight behind me. I could not stop myself, even if I wanted to. Powerful ancient forces had taken control of me. I no longer considered any consequences. All that existed to me was the tender flesh I was stalking, and the mind-numbing aroma that drew me toward it. I slid over her thigh and down, and raised my head. My whiskers barely brushed at the softness before me, and with my head spinning drunkenly from the overpowering fragrance I began to taste.

There was a deafening shriek. I was seized roughly and hauled into the air, my ribcage nearly crushed from the ferocity of the grip. Air rushed in a gale past my face as I was half-thrown into the cage, the door slamming shut behind me with a sound like a cannon. Dazed, I rolled over to see Mistress glaring in at me, her eyes ablaze with reproach. I cowered back from that terrible expression as Mistress snarled and rumbled at me before turning and stalking back to her desk to resume her work.

I was shattered. Hating myself for my weakness, I crawled onto my bed and curled up dejectedly. I felt that had just destroyed the first feeble glimmer of true happiness I had known in my entire life. A lifetime of virtual slavery to mankind had led up to that one brief, shining moment, and I had wrecked it. Tears came to my eyes and began to moisten the fabric beneath me. I didn't care.

Mistress herself continued to seem ill at ease, and in fact became more agitated as time went on. She shifted repeatedly in her seat, ran her fingers through her hair, and finally folded her arms on the desk and buried her face in them. She stayed that way for a long time, ignoring her work, and then at last she raised her head and turned to gaze at me.

I felt a chill and crept backward on my bed. I knew that I had upset her and felt that she now meant to punish me. Slowly she slid onto her knees and rested her chin on the edge of the desk right beside my cage and peered in at me. The gaze lasted only a second before her eyes darted away from me, then back, then away again. She appeared confused, indecisive. I was equally confused and sat very still, watching her. Eventually she stood and strode out of the room, and was gone for a brief time during which I could only sit miserably and wonder if she would forgive me.

Soon she returned. Her step was hesitant, unsure. She closed the door behind her; a small yellow light glowed beside it as soon as it shut. Slowly she stepped toward the cage, her eyes still darting about the room, as if she was afraid to look at me. She stopped and took a deep breath, then opened the cage door and reached in for me. As before, I climbed into her hand before she had to pick me up. Any little thing that might help to win her favor again after my dreadful affront.

She lifted me to her face and smiled a little, and brushed the top of my head with a fingertip. Then she turned and carried me to the bed, sat down...hesitated...and then slowly lowered me down onto her thigh once again. Bewildered, I slid out of her hand onto her leg and settled onto my back, watching her closely. We stared at each other, neither one moving, for several anxious moments. She turned her head and peered nervously at the closed door behind her, then turned back to me, and with her finger gave me a hesitant little nudge toward the inside of her thigh.

I was amazed, and then thrilled that she was no longer angry. I sat up and threw my arms lovingly around her finger, rubbing my cheek against it, and then the full meaning of her gesture began to sink in. I cast an uncertain glance between her legs and looked up at her questioningly. She glanced one more time toward the door, bit her lip, and then gave me another gentle push.

That was all the encouragement I needed. Releasing her finger, I flipped to all fours and bounded down onto the bed and forward. She shivered hard as I pounced eagerly upon the spot and buried my muzzle in the tender folds, and slowly she sank onto her back. The landscape shifted before me, rising up, more and more bare, delicious flesh presenting itself. Crazed with desire I leaped upon it, pressing my whole body against the moist softness and wriggling excitedly. I was desperate to mate her, yet my frenzied thrusts met very little resistance and left me aching with need as I crammed my torso tightly into the crevice. A shiny mound before me began to swell larger and darken. I attacked it, my tongue caressing it wildly, hands following it downward until they disappeared inside of her. I felt that I was on fire despite the warm fluid that bathed me. I could hardly hear her grunts and cries over the roar of blood in my ears. Sparks flashed across my vision as more and more of me was surrounded by her warmth, my body writhing like a snake on hot pavement. I felt a tremor, and then a terrific, crushing pressure, squeezing my arms together, my bones bending alarmingly. I felt as though I were being chewed in a vast maw.

Then the pressure relented. I think I must have fainted, because I was aware of falling backward onto the bed, her thighs rising like furry hills on either side of me. I do not recall if I had climaxed or not. Maybe I had, maybe three or four times. All had been lost in the wild rush of sensations.

Two large fingers appeared from above and clamped around my middle, lifting me, dripping, from the bed. I was placed in a soft palm and lifted up close to her face. She was breathing heavily, the warm, sweet gusts wafting and curling around me. Her other hand rose up and one finger pressed against my groin. I realized that I was still erect, almost painfully so, and that it was no longer any use trying to hide it from her. With a little moan I arched my back, pressing my firmness into her finger. She smiled, and after another guilty glance toward the door, she lowered her head and pressed her lips to me. I felt them caress me, and then a warm, wet tongue slid over my erection, sending fiery jolts through my body. Her lips surrounded it, burying it in their soft embrace, and began to tug at it as her nosepad pressed down against my chest. I saw both of her eyes peering lovingly down at my face before my vision darkened. My body clenched and I began to spurt wildly between her lips, my seed wiped away by the tip of her tongue as it slid agonizingly over my malehood. It was as though all the energy of my body was expelled along with my pleasure, because when I was finally empty I could not move, not even a finger. I could barely breathe.

Mistress smiled warmly at me and licked me again, her tongue caressing first my belly and chest, and then my face. I could not respond, except perhaps for a blink and the ghost of a smile. She laid back again, relaxing, and lowered me gently and laid me upon her left breast, her hand covering me and pressing me into its firm surface, the bulge of her nipple resting across my belly. I felt consciousness leaving me. We had always been told that there was no Heaven for my kind, yet I had just found mine.

From that day on I served as loyal companion and plaything to Mistress. She never locked the cage after that, allowing me to roam freely about the desk and explore. Often she allowed me to run about the endless expanse of floor for exercise, and she was always careful of her tread while I was doing so. I would lie at her feet while she worked, and would nip playfully at her toes when I wanted attention. I would pine for her when she was gone, and would be overjoyed when she returned. I made every effort to please her when she took me to her bed, many times letting my entire body be engulfed within her and enduring the overwhelming pressure of her climax, and she always saw to it that I was properly sated afterward.

One day she returned home with a little gift for me. It was a thin metal band, wider in diameter than my head as she slipped it over, but as she squeezed it around my neck it shrank in upon itself to fit perfectly. I wore it with pride. She put on her pretty wrap and then lifted me to her shoulder, and by some mechanism I have never been able to discover she attached a thin chain to my collar, and the other end to her own. Then she took me for a walk, letting me see this strange world of giants in its entirety for the first time.

It was astonishing. I saw huge buildings, dizzyingly tall. I saw colorful gardens, a striking change from the stark whiteness of Mistress's quarters. I saw vehicles that floated effortlessly on air and machinery that had a seemingly inexhaustible power source. I saw many others of her kind, some clothed, some not, both males and females. The males usually peered at me scornfully without comment -- perhaps they could see my jealous snarl -- but the females found me fascinating, always wanting to fondle and caress me. I did not mind that at all.

On one later sojourn Mistress took me to what was apparently a marketplace. Such places no doubt look the same everywhere in the universe. Large tables lined up in merry disorder, colorful tarps providing shade, items of all description and bins full of treasures...

One such bin riveted my gaze as Mistress stopped before it to examine some trinket she had found. My heart began to race as through its transparent walls I saw human beings. They were packed in tightly, milling about and peering mournfully out at the giants who passed by them. A female with a restless young male in tow stepped up to the bin and spoke briefly with the proprietor. He smiled cheerfully at her, then reached a massive hand into the crowded bin and scooped several up, depositing them all together into a little bag. The female nodded graciously, then took her youngster's hand and began to walk away.

I saw her give the bag to the young male as they passed us on their way by. I watched him release her hand and eagerly thrust his fingers inside, withdrawing a pair of wriggling little bodies in his fist... watched him grin down at them, his eyes bright, then raise them to his lips and stuff them into his mouth, swallowing them without chewing.

Mistress turned away, then, and the ghastly scene was lost to my sight. I sat stunned upon her shoulder. It had been a long time since I had thought about humans, my creators and former masters. It seemed as though it had been a lifetime ago that I had been in their service, had sworn a duty to protect them from any and all threats, I had never fully understood why the giants had sent Mistress to my world; now it was horribly clear. She had been sent only to gather specimens of the local fauna, which the giants had found to be so feeble and tiny that it could not possibly have anything to offer to such a vastly superior race, except a convenient and abundant source of nourishment. I imagined giants stepping forth from newly-arrived Arches all over the globe, trampling the most powerful armies like mere insects as they descended on the fleeing populace with eagerly reaching hands, capturing them with pitiful ease and carrying them home to be eaten. In my mind's eye I could see others of my kind still carrying on their sworn duty, fighting in vain for their doomed masters and dying in droves...

...while I sat in ease and comfort as a pampered pet. I hung my head in shame, profound guilt wrenching at my heart.

Then Mistress's finger touched my legs. I looked up to see her head turned toward me, her eyes as warm and sweet as ever. Perhaps she could see the pain in my own and was concerned. She leaned her head closer and lightly brushed her nose against me, a gentle croon murmuring in her throat. It was a comforting and compassionate sound that held the whispered promise of soothing pleasures to come. I closed my eyes and shivered, then touched my cheek to her lips, making her smile. She stroked my legs softly, then she turned and made her way down the avenue that led to our home.

The tender purring beneath me slowly lifted the weight from my heart. I was soon smiling again, and slid myself up along her shoulder until I could lean against her neck, my lengthy tail draped across its back and twining in her magnificent hair. She began to purr more loudly as we entered the portal into her quarters. I reveled in the sound, free from Mankind's yoke at last. What was in the past was dead and gone. I had found my place. I was hers, now, and I was happy for it.

Nonetheless, I could not help feeling sorry for Humanity, if only for having watched them fall so far from such lofty heights. What a terrible blow it must have been to be reduced from Master of Creation to simple fodder, but such is the way of things, I suppose. Nobody stays on top for long. There is always someone bigger and hungrier who sees you as you see the rest of the world, and that was a lesson that Mankind had learned the hard way.

Overall, it could have been much worse for them. At least they were being put to good use.