In the Zone
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2025 by Walter Reimer

Prompt: watch


“Hey Sarge? Sergeant Blake?”

The cougar femme’s ears perked at the soft voice, and she turned in her seat to see one of her privates, a short wolf, peering through a set of night vision binoculars. “What’s up, Jackson?” she asked, getting to her feet and walking over to him. Voices whispered in her right ear; other sentry posts had spotted whatever Jackson had seen. “Whatcha got?”

The wolf pointed. “Bearing two-eight-oh, range fourteen hundred meters,” he recited, and Blake pulled her own goggles into position over her eyes and switched them on, starting to look in the direction Jackson had indicated.

“Two contacts, on foot,” Jackson said. “Just stepped around a tree – yeah, there they are again.”

“Yeah, I see ‘em now,” Blake said. Someone was intruding into no-fur’s land. Infiltrators? An imminent attack? She touched her microphone. “All stations, you got eyes on contact?”

“Yes’m.”

“Got ‘em.”

“They don’t look armed,” a third sentry said.

“Keep sharp,” the cougar said. “There may be more out there.” Jackson suddenly leaned forward and Blake asked, “What’s going on?”

“They’re . . . they’re . . . “ the wolf said.

Another sentinel said, “They’re taking off their clothes.”

“They’re both femmes,” added a third. “Nice set on both of ‘em.”

Blake stared through her goggles as the two enemy femmes finished taking off their clothes, their forms defined in the light-enhancing equipment but their faces blurry. They both appeared to be feline.

One sat down, her back to a tree. The other turned, facing directly toward the sentry post, and waved.

They know we can see them, Blake thought. And they don’t care.

The one who waved then sank to her knees between the first femme’s legs, crawled forward and the two began to kiss as the sentries watched.

Blake’s left ear flicked at the sound of a zipper. She glanced toward Jackson, did a double take and said, “Jackson! What the hell are you doing?”

Jackson’s paw snatched away from the fly of his trousers. “Sorry, Sarge. Been a few weeks since I had some R and R.”

“We’re here to watch,” Blake said into her microphone, one or two of her subordinates saying “Aw” as she added, “It could still be a distraction.”

As one of the enemy femmes lowered her face to the other’s breasts, Blake grumbled. It’d been a while for her, too, but her detail’s job was to watch.

So they would.



end