With the last rays of the setting sun signaling the beginning of night time; every single were-panther milling about the Knight Estate, shifted and assumed there fursona’s. True to what Lance said to Benton earlier; every were-panther had either a solid coat of black fur, brown or grey. A few had streaks of grey running through their coats; denoting their age as well over a hundred. Not one were-panther had a fursona as unique as Frieda. Her grey fur coat with red russet highlights. Standing next to her were Eric and Spencer Lawson. Both naked under the robes they wore; still in their human forms.
Benton Knight in his fursona; a ten foot were-panther with black fur and piercing amber eyes; raises his paws for silence. Seeing out of the corner of his eye, his brother in his robe just arriving; Benton silently sighs, ‘cutting it close there… brother.’ Remembering to needing to talk to Lance later; Benton turns back to the gathering crowd, Benton begins speaking;
“my fellow pride members. We gather on this final meeting of the year, not only to celebrate another year almost over, but to introduce two new members of our community.” Benton waves for Frieda, Eric and Spencer to step forth. “You all remember my daughter and her first time participating in our gathering,” Benton droning on; “Tonight, instead of me inducting the new members of our pride, Frieda will be doing the honors.” Looking at his daughter, Benton speaks; “Where is the speech I had prepared for you?”
“Oh that bit of tripe,” Frieda gaging; “I threw it out. I thought I’d go off script for a change.”
“Oh great,” Benton sighs as his daughter steps forward.
“Before we proceed,” Frieda states; “I would like to remind everyone of one of our town’s unwritten rules. No were can force themselves on another were if they are not interested. Be mindful of that tonight.”
Several of the weres gathered mumble and mutter in regard to that but Frieda raises a paw in the air requesting silence.
“Eric Anderson and Spencer Lawson;” Frieda speaking up for all to hear. “Please step forward and answer after me.”
The two step forward, each sporting goofy grins; Frieda noticing and grinning in return begins to speak.
“Do you swear to uphold and protect the town’s secret and abide by the laws as put forward by the elder council?”
“We do,” Eric and Spencer speak in unison.
“Do you consent to joining this pride and remaining a member for life?”
“We do,” Eric and Spencer say in unison. But Eric grinning whispers so only Spencer and Frieda can hear; “especially if it’s just with you two sexy ladies.”
Frieda smiling then finishes; “then disrobe as show your fursona to the crowd gathered before you."
Eric was the first to reveal his inner were-panther to the crowd before him. Effortlessly shifting; Eric can feel his bones snap and reshape as they change to a more bipedal feline form. Growing an extra foot in height; he hears the crowd gasp and whisper as they see his body quickly sprout pure white fur all over.
“A white were-panther,” one gasps.
“I’ve never heard of such a fursona,” another looking shocked.
“If I didn’t smell panther on him,” a third exclaims; “I’d swear he could be mistaken for a were-cat.”
“I want him,” a were-panthress growling; clearly aroused at the sight of the young were.
The crowd clearly surprised to see Eric in his Were-panther glory were further shocked when moments later Spencer disrobes; seeing her shift into a black furred werewolf/panther/feline hybrid. The entire gathering starts to get restless as they smell her hybrid scent in the air.
“God she is gorgeous,” a werepanther sighs.
“I wonder if she is interested in honey,” a were-panthress grins.
"I'd do her if she was interested," a were-panther grins.
“Look at her eyes,” a werepanther looking shocked; “they are the same as the male and Frieda’s.”
The crowd begins to notice the intense green eyes from the three as they gather together. Benton quickly sensing chaos steps forward a bellows; “Remember what my daughter said earlier! Abide by our rule of consent! Anyone unable to control themselves and starting to bear their claws and teeth will answer to me!” Benton clearly growling the last statement; seeing the crowd slowly calming down he again speaks in a calm voice.
“Now before we all run off and have ‘fun’. Let us all mingle and enjoy the delicious smelling buffet Franklin Catering has prepared. hor d'oeuvres and profiteroles are being served by the catering staff while the cooks perform their final prep work.” Benton pausing to observe the various were-skunks and were-otters in aprons holding trays of tasty treat for everyone to sample; ”May I remind you all that the catering staff are here to serve food. Not sexual pleasures. With that, enjoy the evening and try the croquembouche tower I witness being prepared earlier.”
While every were-panther was quickly milling about Frieda, Eric and Spencer; all eager to greet the two new members of the pride; the lone were-dog of Franklin Catering quietly pads towards Benton.
“Thank you for not reacting to John’s lie earlier, about me attending alcoholics anonymous;” the were-dog comments.
“I was curious as to why you asked me to partake in that bit of subterfuge;” Benton observing the crowd. “so answer me Franklin; why request that bit of play acting when I called you earlier?”
“While my staff knows of John’s talent as a cook,” Franklin comments; “he is technically not a chef as he never had any formal education/training. I need to see if the staff would listen as he assumed the role of head chef.”
“Well being a seven foot werewolf,” Benton chuckling; “despite being only fourteen years old, doesn’t hurt in assuming a leadership role.”
“I have to admit,” Franklin smiling; “even I was taken aback by that bit of show. Thank goodness I had the sense to have him wear a chef’s uniform prepared by Awareness when he shifted right then and there in your kitchen.”
Benton laughs; “well it looks like the kid is capable in handling himself with a staff. Let’s see how many single were-panthress’s hit on him.”
“Now that’s cruel,” Franklin shaking his head; “almost as bad as his family’s tragedy.”
“About that,” Benton looking serious; “was everything that John said about his parents true? His father, a police officer dying while executing a search warrant. His mother dying in jail a raging alcoholic?”
“Every word,” Franklin responds; “as a recovering alcoholic myself, I can attest to the struggle liquor can have on a person. Being clean and sober for three years now; I no longer look like I have mange when in my were-dog fursona.”