Chapter 4: Grand Exposition in Kat's Grand Home

"What the fuck are you?" Trixie shouted, trembling. After a fucked up day in which Stasi agents had closed in on the Courage Players essentially destroying them, and one had grabbed her from her S and M studio and injected her with a powerful sedative and she awoke in the middle of the Black Forest in an army ambulance driven by the Stasi abductor and administrator of the injection, the passenger in the truck/van with weird eyes and a gloriously beautiful and cute and calming face had suddenly become the woman of her dreams even though she never thought she dreamt of such a woman. Intoxicated with lust and desire and even love, a weird bond instantaneously in place between complete strangers, the amount of pleasure Trixie felt gazing into the golden eyes of the gorgeous woman seemed to improve the fucked up day greatly. But now...

The sleek black panther with those same golden eyes growled quietly as it paced the large bedroom In the large four poster bed with a mirrored top where the most sensuous and sweet and satiating sex had happened for over an hour when Trixie explored Kat's sleekly muscled body, lean but shapely with a gently curving waist and perfect little round breasts with jutting sensitive nipples and a perfect round butt and the most delicious cunt she ever tasted which oozed a nectar containing a fragrance seeming to increase Trixie's already elevated libido even farther beyond anything she ever experienced, and while she sucked and licked and stroked there Kat did the same to her bringing her to the edge and over several times until the smooth tongue of Kat became a rasp that totally blew Trixie away to the point of fainting, Trixie awoke to find herself behind a mesh of steel hard transparent plastic cowering from the pacing cat she somehow knew had to be Kat.

Screaming when Kat disappeared from sight and suddenly reappeared, a large paw with black pads and lengthy claws, somehow both black and transparent, pressing on the mesh inches from Trixie's neck, Trixie moved away, but the cat staring at Trixie sat there as cat's do on its butt with the long black tail circling the butt and the folded back legs. Gingerly, Trixie reached her hand to touch a coarse pad and another as fingers matched paws. The panther sounded like it purred with a deep resonance. Then the mouth appeared. The rough, long, thick pink tongue licked across the mesh where fingertips and paws met. Then the tongue retreated and terrible fangs lunged at Trixie's fingers, just missing them by a centimeter as Trixie bounced away and her back slammed against the mesh on the other side of the bed. The panther growled much louder and more menacingly. Rising to walk, it headed to the large desk where a panel of buttons had been manipulated earlier to shift the ambience of the bedroom to a sexy dark space. Its paw landed on a broad switch which it pushed upwards and a window opened. The panther screeched and jumped through, disappearing, its blackness hidden in the black night.

Seconds later a gentle knock sounded at the door and it opened without Trixie responding. Seeing Michael, her good friend, an obviously gay pretty boy with soft pale skin on a round boyish face and short spiky light blond hair, gave Trixie back her breath. Leo, an eccentric and distracted and attractive young man with light brown shoulder length hair, almost a dark golden hue, seeming to be in his early twenties whom Kat had introduced as the architect of the strange modernist house they occupied, the outside wrapped in one way mirrored class that made the house disappear into the snowy yard and the woods surrounding it and with a series of curving ramps leading to a small widows perch at the top and creating the weird floor design where floors ascended like high steps curving around a vast space, almost a ballroom, followed behind Michael. Wearing robes and nothing else, they both looked as sated as Trixie had been before becoming scared to death.

"You okay?" asked Michael.

Leo stepped to the control panel and pressed a button and pulled down the switch Kat had pulled up. The mesh lifted and disappeared into the upper frame of the bed while the window through which Kat jumped closed.

Ignoring Michael's question, Trixie gazed at the beautiful large sky blue sad eyes of Leo and asked him, "What the fuck is going on?"

"She changed, didn't she?" sighed Leo with his strongly accented (Hungarian?) and sibilant voice, very fey.

"Uhm ... Kat's a cat?" Trixie stuttered.

"Come with me," said Leo, stepping back to the door and taking Michael's hand.

"Uhm ... I should dress?"

"Yes of course. You'll find something in the closet." Leo nodded towards a door behind the bed. Trixie found a red kimono printed with a panther hanging inside the door. She slipped it on.

Leo smiled. "That's Kat's favorite."

"She likes her ... change."

"We all do." Leo gestured at his robe, a long smoking jacket really, printed with several light brown cats, lionesses it looked like.

After a nervous swallow and a fearful smile, she followed Leo and Michael through the door. They stepped down from the shallow second level of Kat's room and traipsed through the large entry space to a back room, a small movie theater where another man with similar features to Kat, black hair and golden eyes and a handsome rounded faces with a small nose, sat in the middle of the space amongst the rows of folding chairs smiling at them. Michael sat beside him and they kissed.

The man stood and lifted his hand to Trixie. "I'm Jag," he said.

"Of course you are. Beatrix. You can call me Trixie."

"Welcome Trixie. Have a seat."

"Thanks." She sat behind them.

Michael turned in his seat to talk to her. "Jag paints," he said, gesturing to the screen. Several paintings hung on the walls of the house. Many obviously painted by the same artist, darkly colorful portraits and scenes depicting metamorphosis done in the Weimar style of Expressionism with oddly chosen colors for skin and heavy brush strokes that gave the paintings a dark yet vibrant emotionality. The painting of a Leda and the Swan image lifted, revealing a silvered screen behind it.

Obviously Leo made the screen appear. He stood behind a podium, his fingers busy pressing buttons. The room darkened and a slide appeared on the screen: a painterly written word: "Metamorphosis."

"Of course," muttered Trixie.

Leo smiled. "Have you read Ovid?" he asked her.

"And 'The Golden Bough, '" Trixie replied. "I studied mythology and literature and psychology, perhaps for this moment, at least until they kicked me out of University for singing subversive songs and playing rock and roll on my plugged in guitar in the middle of the classroom building."

The men chuckled. Leo replied, "Sounds like the sort of troublesome citizen they tend to kick out of the Democratic Republic of Germany."

"I'd hoped," Trixie shrugged. "My bandmates freaked, but I met Gretchen soon afterward. And Michael. Only they embraced my notoriety."

"You sound delicious," said Jag.

"Your sister thought so, especially after she changed." Trixie couldn't help shivering.

"She's my twin," Jag explained proudly.

"Same litter?" Trixie smiled ironically.

Jag chuckled and nodded. "Exactly."

Confusion overwhelmed Michael, clearly visible on his face. "What's going on?"

Instead of answering, Trixie caught Leo's eye and asked, "Is Michael in danger?"

"Don't worry, Trixie," Leo replied. "We'll keep him safe, unless..."

"Unless what?" she asked.

"Let me do my little presentation, and..."

"Little?" Jag interjected.

Leo shrugged, "Well, there's a lot to cover."

"You won't change in the middle of it?" Trixie asked.

"No. Not until tomorrow night. Kat's..."

"Kat's what?"

"She's in heat."

"Oh. Oh! Pheromones!"

A look of surprise transformed to respect appeared on Leo's face when he nodded. Trixie looked miffed.

"You wouldn't have responded if you weren't receptive," Leo explained. "You two were meant to be together. You like her don't you?"

"I thought I loved her, but..."

"It seems you do, and she loves you. Let me do my thing."

"Sure," said Trixie, flummoxed.

"Metamorphosis," Leo began. He clicked through several slides depicting gods and goddesses on ancient objects: Grecian urns and Egyptian and Indian and Mayan walls and other artifacts from various cultures. "The first and hardest thing for you to accept is that the gods are real. They exist. Only now they're ... in hibernation so to speak."

"Why's that?' asked Trixie with vehement skepticism.

Leo smiled. "Glad you asked." The next slides showed Hebrew scrolls and images of Moses and David and then Jesus and the Emperor Constantine and warriors fighting beside Mohammed. "It seems the gods' creations and manipulations of man proved a little too successful. Men became as arrogant as gods. They became the hegemony of the earth. They took over and turned a blind eye to their old 'pagan' truths and the world became more and more 'humanistic' so to speak. Man manipulated old pagan rituals which communicated and appeased and sacrificed to the gods such as Christmas and Easter and made them monotheistic." After images of Christmas trees, images of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny followed. "And their new god, a god of money, continued the trend. No god really. Just man."

The painting formerly hiding the silver screen reappeared: Lida and the Swan. "During the god's hegemony, they enjoyed playing with their mortal, earthbound and earth made copies."

"They liked fucking us," said Trixie.

"Exactly. Mostly to get their jollies, but often for more sinister reasons." Images of Aphrodite and Zeus and Hera and Helen of Troy and Paris appeared. "Making their mates jealous for instance. Or teasing other gods." More illustations: Hephaestus and Apollo. Heracles.

"This is all Greek," Trixie commented.

"For familiarity," Leo shrugged. "They're all the same gods. They travel swiftly and have vast vision which of course makes these little salvos against each other rather rude." More slides: Valhalla with Odin and Thor and Loki and Siegfried and the fat lady singing at the end of Gotterdammerung. "See?"

"Thank you," Trixie chuckled.

"What have the gods to do with us here?" Michael finally asked.

"Forefathers," said Leo, showing Loki again and images of Satan. "It seems a particularly mischievous and horny one liked to sweep through villages and fornicate with the prettiest virgins. He particularly liked Aryans, the original Aryans from East Central India. The villagers called him Yashaw, the god of lust.

"His sister and mate, goddess of hunting, Diana to the Greeks, along with higher ups in the hierarchy began getting disgruntled with his obsession. He brought his conquests to a valley in the Himalayas and would be there with them more than he should.