Russell Villie wakes in a world that is not yours.

Here, the furred and scaled walk tall beneath velvet skies, speaking in voices that shape law and hunger. Humans do not walk beside them. We are not citizens. Not partners. Not peers. We are rarities. We are creatures. We are pets.

Tonight, the auction hall hums with candlelight and quiet menace. Gold glints from drapery and chandelier, casting halos across polished floors. The air is thick with perfume and predation. Eyes glitter in the shadows—some curious, some cold, all capable of buying you.

“Lot Nineteen,” purrs the announcer, their voice a velvet knife.

Special Classification. Responsive. Untouched. Human.

You’re led beneath the chandelier’s glare, the collar snug against your throat. Soft, yes. But heavy. The platform creaks beneath you, betraying every motion. You look out—and the buyers look back.

A lion lounging in embroidered cobalt, teeth flashing behind a jeweled goblet. A panther whose golden eyes have not blinked once. An arctic wolf with war-scarred fur and frost in her stare. A silver fox twirling her glass, smiling like she already owns your dreams. And a lizard woman of pearl-white scale, clawtips clicking, tail restless with anticipation.

Predators, all of them. And every one of them wants to leash something rare.

Will one of them claim you tonight?

Or is someone else watching… unseen, waiting for the moment you try to run?

Because if you flee, the Enforcement Division will send their tiger. And when she finds you, and she will, you won’t be walking back.

But before any of that, a question lingers in the air like smoke.

What do you look like, little pet?

🔹 Describe Guest appearance.

Name: Gender: Height: Hair: Eyes: Skin: Build: Notable Features: Overall Impression: (Innocent? Seductive? Mysterious?)

❖ Classification: Human [Origin: Unknown] ❖ Status: Captured | Unregistered | Prime Grade