[18+] Today’s story is “Milk and Brass” by by Ian Madison Keller, who wrote the Changing Bodies series published by Fanged Fiction and edited Shark Week published Rainbow Dog Books, and you can find more of his stories on madisonkeller.net.

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You're listening to The Voice of Dog,

and today's story is

"Milk and Brass" by Ian Madison Keller,

who wrote the Changing Body series

published by Fanfiction,

and edited Shark Week published by Rainbow Dog Books.

And you can find more of his stories

on madisonkeller.net

Please enjoy "Milk and Brass"

by Ian Madison Keller,

read for you by the author himself.

A commotion farther down the alley in which Carla had chosen to bed down that night woke her.

She peered out from the cardboard box she'd curled up in,

cat ears swiveling and tail twitching with curiosity.

Blue uniformed Bobbies were moving down the line of sleeping vagrants,

waking them with vicious kicks or strikes with their billy clubs.

Growls, shrieks, and grumbles were left behind in their wake as the various human-animal hybrids were rousted and hauled away towards the Paddy wagon parked blocking the alley's end.

"You, cat-hybrid." An approaching Bobby had noticed her gleaming eyes and pointed to her with the end of his club. "Up and at-em.

We've got a place in the work-house all picked out for you."

The work-house. She'd only just barely escaped alive from her last imprisonment there.

Filthy beds, grueling hours, not enough food.

No, she wouldn't go back.

Carla bolted from her cardboard box,

abandoning her few meager possessions.

The other end of the alley ended in a tall wooden fence.

Carla's bare feet pounded down the cobblestones,

easily out pacing the Bobby behind

her. She jumped as she approached the fence, vaulting over it with one smooth leap.

Before the Bobby crashed into the wood she was already gone,

dashing down the street.

However, the young Bobby's cries alerted the rest to her flight.

By the time she rounded the corner,

two more were in pursuit,

whistles blowing.

Carla ducked and wove through the dark streets of London,

but the Bobbies were tenacious.

Before she knew it, they'd chased her away from the docks and into a nicer part of town.

An area she didn't know.

Trees rustled somewhere ahead,

the perfect place to lose her pursuers.

Unfortunately, there was a wall between her and the trees.

Carla rushed at it and jumped, hooking her fingers over the top.

She pulled herself up and rolled over, dropping into a large private garden.

Carla darted through the trees and bushes to climb up a random tree with a thick trunk.

The trunk split about halfway up,

leaving a perfect hollow for her to curl up in that didn't leave her visible from the ground.

There was a commotion at the end of the garden as the men reached the wall.

Rather than climbing up over after her,

they circled in, kicking open a gate somewhere out of sight.

"Here, kitty-kitty," they called,

leaves crunched between each step.

They split up, moving about the garden.

"Hey, you!" A female voice yelled.

"This is a private garden.

Get out!" "We lost our kitty, and she hopped over your fence there.

Soon as we find her we'll get out."

"Leave now!" Footsteps and a short scuffle ensued.

A wooden gate banged shut,

but the men continued to move about on the other sides of the wall.

Carla pulled herself into a tighter ball and settled in to wait. #

Chirping birds and the clatter of plates woke Carla the next morning.

The tantalizing aroma of toast and fried eggs wafted to her on the breeze.

Carla sniffed and crawled out on a big branch, trying to glimpse the feast.

Instead, she saw a young English Lady, around her age, wearing a white and yellow lacy morning dress and a hat.

She sat on a patio overlooking the garden eating her breakfast.

An older woman wearing a servant's gown came outside with a steaming platter of pastries

and set it next to the young Lady.

"Anything else, Miss Hanson?"

"No, thank you," the girl replied.

The maid bustled out,

leaving the Lady alone on the porch.

So much food, too much for one person.

Perhaps she would share?

Carla licked her lips and crept closer,

peering out through the leaves.

There was a crack and her branch dipped.

Carla froze, but it was too late.

The branch cracked again and pitched forward, sending Carla tumbling head over tail out of the tree with a yowl.

"Kitty?" The Lady stood, eyes searching the garden.

"Are you alright kitty?"

Carla sat up, no worse for wear.

She'd got her hands up in time to save her face,

cat-like reflexes had their benefits.

"Here, kitty-kitty. I have eggs.

eggs." The Lady scooped eggs onto a dish and carried down the steps.

She set it on the path in the garden, then stood on tiptoes to look in Carla's direction. "Kitty,

are you hungry?"

The food looked so good, and the Lady didn't look dangerous.

Carla's tail twitched.

A few bites couldn't hurt.

After the English Lady went back up to the patio,

Carla crept forward,

keeping herself low to the ground.

Her pointed cat-ears swiveled, alert for any noise.

To get to the plate she'd have to cross a large expanse of cut grass with no cover.

If she was quick, she might grab the plate and dive back into the safety of the trees.

Carla moved up into a sprinters crouch, digging in her toes.

Now! She burst from cover, pumping her arms, eyes fixated on the eggs.

The English Lady looked up from her scones, eyes widening as Carla flashed past the patio,

scooping up the plate without even slowing down.

Back in the safety of the bushes, Carla ducked behind the trunk of a tree and stuffed eggs in her mouth with one hand,

scalding her fingers and burning the roof of her mouth.

When the plate was empty Carla licked it of every drop of grease.

"Are you hurt?" The English Lady's voice came from the side.

Carla froze, ears flattening to the top of her head and tail thrashing.

The Lady stood just a few feet away,

bright gown and slippers looking incongruous among the dirt and leaves.

What Carla's thought was lace turned out to be white feathers growing out of her arms.

"You are cut," the Lady pointed at a trail of blood on Carla's bare arm.

"I can clean that for you if you'd like.

And if you are still hungry, there is plenty.

More than enough to share.

share." Carla searched the Lady's face for any trace of deceit,

noting the fine white down.

Her expression was open and friendly,

eager to help. "I am still hungry, thank you."

"I'm Nellie." The Lady, Nellie,

reached out a white gloved hand to Carla.

"Pleased to meet you, Nellie.

I'm Carla." Carla curtsied

in her torn and stained skirts.

After she stood again, she took Nellie's hand.

The gloves turned out not to be gloves at all, but soft white feathers that covered the backs of her hands.

Nellie smiled and led Carla to the porch.

"You must be the kitty those men were looking for last night."

"Yes, but please don't tell anyone I am here. I...

I..." Carla shuddered. "I can't go back to the workhouse.

workhouse." Nellie squeezed her hand as Carla sat.

"Have tea and scones and tell me your story.

Perhaps I can help.

help." Carla told Nellie her tale in between bites of the delicious food.

About growing up as a cat-hybrid on the streets of London,

fighting for scraps.

She couldn't remember what had happened to her parents,

just that she'd always been alone.

The first time the Bobbies found her, sent her to the workhouse, she'd been so excited.

It sounded wonderful.

Fed every day, a bed to sleep on.

But the reality had left her starving, exhausted, unable to leave.

When she finished, Nellie frowned, eyes glistening with tears.

"That's awful, Carla.

I wish there was something I could do to help."

"You've done so already, Nellie.

Nellie." Carla licked butter from her fingers,

blessedly full for the first time since she couldn't remember when.

Her black tail curled in her lap and her ears perked forward.

"Perhaps I can do more.

I imagine those men will be back around,

hunting for you." Nellie drummed her downy fingers on the table.

"I want to help you."

"Why do you want to help me?"

Carla tensed, ready to bolt.

"We've only just met."

"I may not be able to escape my fate, but I want to help you escape yours." The

back door rattled, cutting Nellie short.

"Quick, you can't be seen.

Climb up to my room and wait there for me.

me." Nellie pointed to a window on the second story.

Carla nodded, wondering what horrible fate a rich Lady like Nellie could be facing.

Nellie had been sincere and Carla trusted her.

The climb up was an easy one;

an ivy-covered lattice covered the back wall of the house and Carla scaled it and was inside the open window

before the door below finished opening.

"Dearie me, Miss Hanson.

Thought I heard voices out here."

"Just talking to myself, Mrs. Norwood.

Norwood." There was a rustle of skirts.

"I'm going to my room to change before Mr. Rogerson's visit."

"Good idea, Miss." Dishes clanked and the back door opened and closed again.

Carla crawled across the carpet and wriggled under the massive four-poster bed,

heart pounding. Who was Mr. Rogerson? #

Underneath the bed was dusty and Carla had to fight back a sneeze as the door opened.

"Carla?" Nellie whispered.

"Who's Mr. Rogerson?"

Carla asked, not moving from her safe spot pressed up against the wall,

tail curled around her side.

Nellie sighed, skirts rustling.

The bed above Carla creaked as she sat.

"The fate I can't escape.

He is my father's friend,

and my father offered him my hand in marriage.

marriage." Nellie sniffled. Carla wriggled out from under the bed.

Tears sparkled in Nellie's eyes and she twisted a handkerchief in her hands, but her face was dry.

Carla took her hand anyway.

Nellie's feathers tickled her palms.

"You don't love him?"

"I don't even like him!"

Now the tears fell.

Carla gently took the cloth and dabbed at her face as Nellie talked.

"He's as old as my father, a widow.

His wife died last year of consumption.

He has three children, the oldest is less than a year younger than me."

"I'm sorry." Nellie took the cloth from her and let out a smile between her tears.

"No, I am. I shouldn't have burdened you with that.

Let's get you a clean dress."

Nellie stood and bustled away to her wardrobe where she sorted through dresses.

"Good thing you're about the same size as me, but your coloring is so much darker than mine.

All my dresses are pastel.

pastel." Nellie's eyes flicked to Carla's ears and tail.

"The skirt will hide your tail, but the ears...

ears..." she made a humming sound and went back to sorting.

"I'm a black cat-hybrid," Carla replied as Nellie held dresses up to her.

"Um, if I can ask, what are you?"

"Swan." Nellie made a face at her over the dresses.

"Horrible birds if you ask me.

Their call sounds like someone strangled a goose,

plus they're mean. I wish my father had

picked a songbird,

like a robin or something.

At least then I'd be able to carry a tune."

"I think the white feathers are pretty."

"Pretty, and not much else.

else." Nellie came over with a blue night dress.

"Here, I think this should fit you right enough.

enough." Carla carefully took the blue robe and laid it out on the bed.

Her skin was filthy from being on the run and she didn't want to get it

dirty. Carla stripped out of her stained skirts.

"Perhaps a bath first?"

Nellie blushed a pretty shade of red under her down and stared at the floor. "Um,

water basin and washcloth are right there." She pointed without looking up.

The water was cool, but the washcloth was soft and fluffy.

If she could purr, she would have.

Sadly, her maker had gone with more practical traits like reflexes, night vision,

cat-hearing, and a tail to help her balance.

As Carla scrubbed grime off her skin, she watched Nellie from under half-closed eyes.

Nellie was embarrassed at Carla's nudity,

yet drawn to it. She kept glancing over at Carla when she thought she wasn't looking.

Carla had to admit a certain fascination herself. Nellie's

shiny black hair and white feathers were a striking combination.

Carla wanted to run her fingers through those silky tresses

and pet her soft feathers.

The thought gave her a tight sensation in her stomach.

She'd laid with men in the past,

but it had never been like this with them.

This was something new, and exciting,

and Carla wanted to savor the moment.

Carla washed herself slowly,

paying particular attention to her breasts and ass.

When cleaning her arms, Carla extended her limbs up and out,

finding excuses to flaunt her wide hips, rounded bottom, and black-furred tail in Nellie's direction.

Nellie flushed brighter red and Carla batted her eyes at her,

stroking her tail on Nellie's dress.

By the time she finished, the cream towel was black with grime and the water a dull gray;

Nellie was red and almost panting,

fanning at herself with a paper fan.

Butternut skin washed smooth and clean, a nude Carla sashayed towards Nellie.

"I want to thank you properly,"

Carla said in a low, husky almost-growl.

A knock sounded on the door and Carla wanted to curse.

Nellie's eyes grew wide, and she shooed Carla behind the door.

"Miss Hanson? Mr. Rogerson is here to see you.

you." The housekeeper said, cracking open the door.

"I'm sorry," Nellie panted,

moving into the open doorway.

Her face and neck were flushed, and she was fanning herself furiously.

"Please tell Mr. Rogerson that I'm indisposed.

Womanly," Nellie gulped and her eyes glanced at Carla, fell to her rounded breasts with their black, erect nipples. "Problems.

"Problems." She whispered. "Alright, I'll tell him." There

was disapproval in the housekeeper's words,

but she bustled away as Nellie clicked the door shut.

Carla moved forward and cupped Nellie's chin,

bringing her mouth up to meet her lips.

Nellie hesitated at first,

stiff as a board.

Carla put her arms around Nellie's shoulders and pulled her closer.

Nellie responded, moving her lips against Carla's,

relaxing against her.

Soft down feathers tickled Carla's face as Nellie wrapped her hands around Carla's butt

and stroked the base of Carla's tail.

Carla gasped in pleasure, arching her back and pulling away.

They fell together back onto the bed with Nellie on top.

Nellie's skirts tangled around Carla's legs as Nellie massaged the base of her tail.

Carla writhed under the tingling spasms jolting up her back.

The longer feathers on Nellie's neck brushed her teeth.

"Don't stop," Carla cried as Nellie pulled away.

"Shh!" Nellie gestured at the door.

"Help me get this off," She whispered,

reaching around herself to tug at the back lacing of the gown.

"Oh, I will." Carla rolled to the side, pulling Nellie with her.

She grabbed Nellie's hand and placed it on her breast, then kissed her hard.

Nellie's grip tightened and Carla moaned into her mouth.

While Nellie rolled

her breast between her fingers

Carla reached behind Nellie,

fumbling with the laces.

Nellie pulled away from Carla, breathing hard.

"You must get behind me to get them off.

off." Carla pushed up and straddled Nellie's back,

grinding her private bits into Nellie's bottom as she unlaced Nellie's

corset. Nellie giggled. Once the corset strings were loose, Nellie

sat up and pulled it off,

before Carla helped her out of the dress, careful not to catch any of Nellie's feathers on the lace.

"You have wings!" Carla gasped,

marveling at the feathers that draped from Nellie's arms.

The dress had hidden the full, marvelous extent of Nellie's feathers.

"I wish." Nellie blushed and lay back on the bed, spreading herself out and open.

"I can't fly with them.

them." The end of Carla's tail twitched and her ears cocked as she crawled overtop of Nellie.

"I can help you fly."

As Carla leaned into kiss her,

Nellie turned her head away, biting her lower lip.

"Carla, I... I've never had sexual relations with anyone.

What if I-" Carla flicked her tail up and stroked it across Nellie's face.

"I'll be gentle; I promise you'll enjoy this."

"But will you?" Nellie squeezed her eyes shut,

biting down harder on her lip.

"I already am." Carla smiled and licked Nellie's neck.

Nellie shivered and moaned as Carla moved down to her collarbone.

Her soft tongue lapped at Nellie's feathers.

They were softer even than they looked, sliding like water against her skin.

Small down feathers,

like those on Nellie's face, covered her breasts and belly down to her cleft.

Carla rubbed her cheeks, nose, and furry ears across the small

opalescent mounds of Nellie's bosom,

enjoying the feathers ruffling her skin and fur.

Nellie reached a hand up and grasped

Carla's long black hair

as Carla blew a breath

out against Nellie's erect nipple.

Carla reached down to rub at Nellie's privates and found it dripping.

She rubbed a finger over Nellie's nub as she sucked on her nipple until Nellie arched and moaned.

Then, she kissed lower,

still gently rubbing, until her mouth took over for her finger.

Nellie let out a soft moan and spasmed under her,

clutching at the rumbled bedcover.

"Oh, Carla! More!" They lay together in the bed, kissing and fondling, taking turns on each other,

until the light faded.

When they grew tired, they spooned together under the covers,

although Carla continued to rub her tail across Nellie's feathered legs,

delighting in their softness. #

A soft knock at the door roused Carla from her light slumber. She always had been a light sleeper,

wakening at the slightest sound.

Next to her Nellie stirred, but didn't wake.

"Miss Hanson? I have supper for you.

Soup and bread, to help your pains,"

the housekeeper said from the other side of the door.

Carla gently shook Nellie until she snorted awake.

She smiled up at Carla and leaned up to kiss her.

"Miss Hanson?" Nellie pulled away and Carla stifled a twinge of loss.

This had been the best sex she'd ever had, but it was not to be.

Tomorrow Carla would go back to the streets and Nellie

would marry. "Leave the tray by the door.

I'll retrieve it in a moment,"

Nellie called as she slid out of bed

and turned on the oil lamp on the end table.

She walked naked to her wardrobe for a robe.

Carla put her head on her hands, admiring the way Nellie's feathers almost seemed to glow in the gaslight as

she pulled on a plush robe.

They shared dinner in between kisses, and the rest of the night they spent enjoying each other's bodies.

In the morning, after another shared meal,

Carla broke the news to Nellie.

"I must go. If your housekeeper finds me here, you'll be in trouble," Carla said.

They lay naked; tangled together in the sheets.

"Must you leave so soon?"

Nellie bit her lip, lashes glistening with unshed tears.

"But those men-" "Have turned their search elsewhere, I'm sure.

Clean, with a disguise, I can blend into the crowds.

Perhaps even find a job, get off the streets.

streets." Nellie gulped and took Carla's hand.

"Come back, tonight?"

Carla hesitated. "I'll try.

try." Climbing down from the balcony was harder than coming up had been,

mostly because Carla was trying to keep Nellie's gown clean and tear-free as she went.

The pre-dawn air was chilly on the exposed skin of her neck and chest,

but Carla hardly noticed.

She went about most of the day in a daze.

Her day and night with Nellie

didn't seem real in the harsh light of day,

yet it was all she could think about.

That evening her feet seemed to walk herself back to Nellie's mansion,

where Nellie was waiting in the garden.

That night again was magical and the next.

During the day Carla found work at a fancy shop;

Nellie's fancy gifted dress had opened doors that Carla hadn't even known existed.

Each night she visited Nellie, losing more of herself to Nellie's infectious smile.

"What would you do, if you weren't to marry Mr. Rogerson?"

Carla asked as they lay cuddled together after a particularly sweet lovemaking session.

"I don't know." Nellie sighed, reaching up to pet one of Carla's pointed ears.

"No ideas at all?" Carla teased.

"Nothing excites you?"

"Well, it's a bit embarrassing." She flushed red.

"I'm sure it's wonderful.

wonderful." Carla sat up on the bed, crossing her legs.

"I always wanted to see the world.

Did you know I've never left London?"

"The Americas." Nellie's face lit up, eyes alight with inner fire.

"I met some Americans at the Great Expo.

They were from the Wild West and showed off their new clockwork steam engine.

It sounded so exciting!"

Her face fell again.

"But father and Mr. Rogerson would never approve."

"Let's go!" Carla leaned over, unsure where this sudden idea had come from.

But now that it was there, it wouldn't leave.

"Run away, together,

tonight, just the two of us.

I've been saving my money,

I bet I have enough for passage on a steamer ship-"

"I can't, Carla love.

love." Nellie didn't look over at her as she spoke,

but there was regret in her voice.

"I've duties here."

"Duties that will make you unhappy.

Come with me, we can go anywhere.

Or everywhere." Carla looked away, already knowing the answer.

In the mirror,

Nellie's reflection shook its head.

"They are my duties. I cannot be reckless.

reckless." Carla ran her hand through Nellie's hair.

"Is it not more reckless to marry a man you dislike?"

Nellie sat up and silenced Carla with a long

kiss. When she pulled away tears glistened on her face.

"I love you, Carla, but I have obligations, duties..."

"I can't keep going on like

this. Sneaking about, stolen kisses.

You're all I can think about.

about." Carla began to cry.

"Shhh..." Nellie pulled her into her arms.

"After I marry I'll get you a job in my husband's house.

Then we can see each other every day-"

"See you, but not touch you.

Not talk like we do now.

Then see you go into his room at night?

No, I can't." Carla wiped her face,

hating herself even as the words tumbled from her lips.

"This will be our last night together."

Nellie bit her lip, tears streaming down her face.

"Then let's make it a memorable one." #

The next morning a

banging on the front door woke Carla and Nellie.

Carla's eyes widened as she saw the sun.

"I overslept!" She whispered in horror as she gathered her dress.

She gave Nellie a quick kiss on the cheek before slipping into her dress.

"Miss Nellie," the housekeeper said from Nellie's door. "Time to get up.

up." As she made her way to the balcony,

Nellie's door opened, and the housekeeper that Carla had glimpsed her first morning here bustled through.

The housekeeper shrieked and flailed.

"Intruder!" Carla darted for the railing, but the old housekeeper was faster than she looked.

She grabbed the back of Carla's dress and hung on, screaming for help.

Carla twisted kicking at the housekeeper's arm while Nellie threw a robe over her nakedness.

As Carla pulled free, the back of the dress tearing with a savage rip,

a middle-aged man in a dapper suit appeared in Nellie's door.

"What's going on?" His eyes widened as he took in Nellie, skin showing through the gaps in the robe, Carla in her torn dress, and the hysterical housekeeper.

Carla cringed, knowing what was coming next.

Nellie's father would call the Bobbies, and she'd be back at the workhouse before lunch.

"Everyone, calm down.

down." Nellie pulled her robe closed and pointed at Carla.

"She isn't an intruder; she is a friend.

friend." Carla relaxed a fraction of an inch.

"But, Miss!" Mrs. Norwood protested.

"She's a blooming thief, a cat burglar. She's wearing one of

your old dresses that went missing a few months ago, and your pearls."

"I gave them to her, as gifts.

gifts." Nellie didn't miss a beat.

Carla straightened and did her best to pull her torn dress closed.

"A friend? Who visits before dawn? And doesn't announce herself to the housekeeper.

housekeeper." Mr. Hansen glared at Carla.

"You're covering for her.

Mrs. Norwood, lock this thief in the pantry while I send a runner for the Bobbies." #

Carla paced as much as she was able in the small confines of the kitchen pantry.

She'd already tried the door, hoping against hope that her meager lock picking skills would be enough,

but it was barred from the outside.

The small room had no exits,

she was trapped. Her tail twitched as she walked,

two steps, spin, two steps, and back again,

but Carla couldn't see any way out.

It didn't matter, anyway.

Freedom or the workhouse,

neither life included Nellie in it.

Light footsteps scuffled across the tiles outside.

Not a Bobby. They clomped in their heavy boots,

confident in their status as bullies and toughs.

Carla stopped and faced the door,

ears perking with curiosity.

A familiar scent hit her nostrils.

Nellie? The bar scrapped and the door creaked open.

Nellie's face appeared in the gap,

holding a finger across her lips.

Carla slipped out of the opening, and stopped, shocked at Nellie's dress.

She wore a young man's suit,

too long in the legs and tight on her hips and chest,

which was curiously flat.

Her long locks were hidden under a wide bowler hat

and she carried a large Gladstone bag.

"What are you wearing?" Carla whispered.

"A disguise." She grinned and twirled.

"I have one here for you, too.

too." She held out an arm, which had more men's clothing draped over it.

Carla couldn't help but smile back and quickly pulled off her torn dress.

As Carla picked up the shirt Nellie came up behind her with a length of bandage.

"To hide your chest." Carla bobbed her head at the bag.

Carla's cat-like curiosity burned over its contents.

"What's in there?" Nellie clicked the top open and angled it so Carla could see inside.

Stacks of English bills filled it to the brim.

Nellie grinned. "My dowry. To finance our trip to the Wild West."

That night a pair of gentlemen booked passage on the new Trans-Atlantic airship service to the Americas.

They made an odd pair as they walked up the gangplank to the passenger galley together,

a black cat-hybrid and a swan-hybrid,

wearing ill-fitting matching suits.

But both grinned,

brimming with excitement as they talked about their trip around the world and the adventures that awaited them together.

This was "Milk and Brass"

by Ian Madison Keller,

read for you by the author himself.

You can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

Thank you for listening to The Voice of Dog.