Hollow
Copyright© 2026 by Dragonpig
Chapter 10
Science Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 10 - Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Those iconic words from Dorothy as she eases on down the yellow brick road. Hellooooo, this is Dragonpig, your friendly neighborhood weird dude. Have you ever wondered who will inherit the Earth if, for some reason, humanity destroys itself in a global war? Would it be algae, cockroaches, or John Stamos? Come on, readers. John Stamos is inevitable. He’s like Thanos. Well, anyway, you don’t have to wonder anymore. I think I have the answer.
Caution: This Science Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Age Gap Consensual Romantic BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Mystery Science Fiction Post Apocalypse Furry Incest Father Daughter Anal Sex Masturbation Oral Sex Violence
Posy parked her beat-up blue car, the one her father had given her when she turned eighteen, in front of the two-story house. Kids in costumes crossed the lawns, hunting for the candy neighbors had hidden on porches and in front yards.
Prof. Hendergrass had his porch light on. Two kids were digging through the bushes by his steps, and one came up with a fistful of wrapped caramels and a shriek of triumph. Posy smiled. She used to be one of those kids. Those were the good days, until they showed up.
The Hollow had ended Mask Night at her house. The Gray Coats had been very clear about it. “The holiday of Mask teaches people at a young age to pretend to be what they’re not,” they’d said. “We are about purifying our true nature, so that when the Creators return, we will be worthy, and they will know us by our faces.”
She had been ten. She remembered looking through the living room window, watching the neighborhood kids run past.
One good thing had come from that night. Her father must have felt guilty, because at bedtime he had made it up to her. That reminded her that she still needed to return his phone call.
Prof. Hendergrass opened the door before she could knock.
“Well, hello, young lady,” said the dignified Foxkin with a smirk. “Aren’t you a little old to be hunting for candy? You don’t even have a costume.”
She played along. “Sorry, sir. But if you like, I can show you my birthday suit. I think you’d enjoy it.”
“If you insist.” He stepped aside with an exaggerated bow. “Come in. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
She made sure her furry tail brushed against him as she passed.
“Posy,” he said. “Thank you for coming. I know you have other things to do.”
She stepped into his arms and went up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Prof., I always have time for you. You know that.”
Two mugs already sat on the dining room table, filled with her favorite tea, the kind he always kept on hand for her. She sat and took a sip. He slid a plate of cookies toward her.
“Ginger made these today. I told her you might be coming over.”
“Prof., she didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, I know. But she takes care of everything around here, she enjoys baking, and she likes you.”
She bit into a chocolate chip cookie. “Mmm. Tell her thank you.”
“I’ll be sure to.” He reached into his shirt pocket. “Now, this is why I called you.”
He slid a photograph across the table.
The figurine in the photo was maybe six inches tall. It stood upright on two legs, broad-shouldered and built like a warrior, a lean, muscular feline figure with a flowing red mane swept back from its face. It wore a blue bodysuit with a belt at the waist, and one forearm was fitted with a curved, claw-shaped shield. Its other hand gripped the hilt of a raised sword, the pommel set with a single wide, eye-shaped insignia.
“It was found eight feet down, in the same stratum as a pottery cluster we’ve already dated,” Hendergrass said, tapping the edge of the photo. “The soil doesn’t lie, even if the object is a conundrum.”
“What’s it made of?”
“That’s the question. Nobody at the lab knows. The closest comparison is some type of plastic, but that’s not all of it. The artifact repairs itself. It was accidentally damaged, and within a minute it was good as new.” He shook his head. “Which means we can’t tell how old it is.”
Posy held the photo closer to her face, as if that would help her discover its secrets. “So what’s your theory, Prof.? I know you have one.”
“A few. Maybe it’s religious, some ancestor-guardian figure, the kind of thing you’d keep in a home shrine.” He shrugged. “Or it’s proof of something further back than any of us want to admit, that whoever made this understood material science better than we do now.”
“You’re talking about the Marvel Theory, aren’t you?”
“I’m talking about looking at every angle until the evidence tells me not to. Yes, that is one of them.” He took a sip of tea. “We’re scientists, Posy. We don’t get to deal only with the theories we are comfortable with.”
The Marvel Theory. She knew it the way everyone in the field knew it, as a fringe idea, speculation. It held that beastkind had once been more advanced than they were today, until some sort of cataclysm. No one agreed on what the tragedy had been. No one even agreed there had been one.
But the Hollow had an answer for it, and that pissed her off.
She was eleven, seated on a stone bench in a Hollow Temple with her father beside her, watching the Dedicated the way everyone in the hall did. The Dedicated’s voice was firm and sure, reciting from the Book of Hollow. She spoke of the Keeper and the Creators and of the day when the beastkin would be worthy. Then the Creators would return over the lost city of the old and new, raising beastkind to the glory they once had.
Posy hadn’t understood a word of it. Instead, she had noticed the tigerkin woman sitting a few feet away, watching the Dedicated the way her friend Marigold watched a boy she had a crush on. The woman leaned toward Posy’s father and murmured, “Isn’t she beautiful? What’s her name?”
“Yosefa,” her father answered.
Eleven years old and bored, Posy knew a crush when she saw one. It was more interesting than the meditation, so she watched the tigerkin lady instead.
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