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Summary/preview: Come to think of it, if she couldn't beat someone to a pulp in a brawl, she'd settle for the next best thing.
Content notes: Rough sex and indelicate treatment of hyena anatomy. No standard notes apply.

      Mutinies seem so straight-forward and simple. A faction rises up, overpowers the other faction, imprisons those survivors who are valuable, dumps the rest out the airlock. Then it's just a matter of setting course for a new, more profitable destination.
      But it's really not. For one thing, the new faction needs to be able to still run the ship in an effective, if not fully efficient manner, with fewer hands – and heads – available. And never underestimate the heads that are needed. The mindpower of this lot combined was barely capable of punching in a selection on a chow ionizer, let alone programming planetary coordinates into the navsys. Which meant that the current pilot had to be kept at his post, at gun-point, and that a helpful example had to be made out of another random crew member to remind him that he was better off just following orders, and not getting any grand heroic ideas. Add to that the propensity of the new crew to simply raid the cargo hold and eat and drink themselves into a stupor the second that they think their superiors' backs are turned – it made for a round-the-clock job, for anyone with half a brain and an ounce of ambition.
      There's a reason the Hyaina are dangling at the bottom of the food chain... Such reasoning had been sneered by every other race for centuries. Hyaina were beggars, scavengers, lazy, mangy poachers; good for little more than slave labor, and only remotely reliable if they were fitted with psy-stims. So, while the idea of a mutiny of Hyaina slaves was actually quite believable, the notion that such a mutiny would last for more than a handful of hours before the beasts tore each other apart in drunken mating frenzies was well-nigh inconceivable. The words Hyaina and success had never been used in the same sentence.
      Shenzi reckoned that there was a first time for everything.
      In order for that to happen, though – she had to spend the better part of the day patrolling the ship, making sure the crew stuck to their duties, mercilessly disciplining the ones who didn't. Three hours in, she had found the idea of reactivating all their psy-stims to be pretty damned tempting. Fortunately for them, they started behaving themselves. When Banzai reported that he had finally figured out how to transmit the security feed for the cargo hold to her commware, she could have done a dance of joy.
      Except that she could smell shinewine on his breath.
      “You think you're going to get one over on me?” she hissed, grabbing him by the throat and marching him down to the bay doors. “If Taka didn't seem to think that he needs you, I'd gut you.”
      “Aww, c'mon! I deserve sumptin' for all my hard work! It's jus' one little flask of shinewine---” His jowls drooped in a pout as Shenzi grabbed the flask from his hand.
      “You deserve my foot up your ass. Not a drop, Banzai, not another damn drink 'til we land on Etrar. If I catch you with so much as a chambi bar, you're going out the airlock, Taka or no Taka. Got it?”
      Banzai's bushy eyebrows lowered into a scowl, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glaring at her. Then, his mouth crooked up into a smile that showed off his snaggletooth. “You're so damn sexy when you're mad. I could just sit around pokin' you with a stick for hours of entertainment.” Shenzi rolled her eyes. He edged forward.
      “I could poke you with somethin' else for hours.”
      Shenzi blinked slowly. Her hand rose, fingers tracing through the fur that showed above the collar of his jumpsuit. Her palm flattened underneath his jaw. “I'm sexy, hmm?” Banzai grunted, and leaned into her hand.
      Her fingers tightened, and she dragged his head forward by that grip on his lower jaw, giving it a vicious twist as her leg came up and drove a knee squarely into his balls. He promptly became dead weight and dropped to the floor, gasping whines coming from his dislocated jaw. “Well then, you'd better head on back to your bunk and clean your shorts, baby,” she purred. “I'm just too damn sexy for you to handle.”
      “Ahhh...unnnhhh...” Banzai's jaw gave a pop as it clicked back into place. “Fuckin' bi-aahhh!!!” He cowered as she made a feint toward him.
      “To your quarters. I see you again before Etrar, your next stop is the airlock.” She stared after him as he scuttled away. A dislocated jaw wasn't such a big deal for a Hyaina – tales abounded of gluttonous Hyainas unhinging their own jaws to try to swallow something whole. But between that and his balls, he at least wouldn't be up to fucking anything else up for a few hours. Shenzi vastly preferred a useless Banzai over his usual function of being a nuisance.
      Just to be sure, she checked the inside of the hold, and reprogrammed the lock. She satisfied herself that the feed was operating in real time – it was a little eerie to watch herself on her 'ware screen – and headed back down the hallway.
      Come to think of it, she mused, as she rubbed at her eyes...heading to her own quarters didn't seem like such a bad idea. If she hadn't struck terror into the crew by now, it wouldn't matter if she stayed up another twelve, anyway. Etrar was still twenty-nine hours away – if shit hit the fan while she was taking a nap, she could still sort it out.

     Now that the captain of the Cyprovius was safely ensconced in the brig – let him know what it felt like to sleep on a bare floor, for once – Shenzi saw fit to claim his quarters for her own. Of course, she did not expect to be able to claim it without a fight – she would not have been surprised to find three or six Hyaina looting the place, eating the stuffing out of the mattress, or fucking each other silly – probably all three at once. After her encounter with Banzai, she was in the perfect mood to crack open some heads.
     She kicked the hatch open, hackles rising as she saw the one Hyaina seated at the desk, its back to her. Her senses searched quickly for others, but luckily, this seemed to be the only one who had invaded her chosen sanctum.
     “The fuck are you...” Her hostility faded a bit to mere confusion, as the Hyaina turned to face her. “Oh, it's you, Ed.” She frowned, a gesture of puzzlement, this time. “What are you doing in here?”
     Ederechunzi plucked a broken trigger pin off of the desktop and held it silhouetted between his thick fingers. He gestured at the kit of tools that lay on the desk, and then launched into a silent diatribe of facial tics and hand gestures. The movements conformed to no formal sort of sign code, but Shenzi had long since familiarized herself with his dialect, so that she was able to decipher what he was saying almost as quickly as if he had given voice to it with spoken words. His firing diode had failed, and there was no good quiet place to work on it. He wanted to have a working pistol before he went out to supervise that lot of rabble again.
     “Oh, beestshit. You don't need a pistol,” Shenzi said, though she was smirking as she said it. “Splitting a skull with your bare hands is more satisfying, anyway. Don't tell me you've forgotten that!” Ed shrugged, a gesture to say that he would simply agree to disagree.    
     “Well, make sure to clean your shit up before you go,” Shenzi said, without a trace of hostility or urgency. “I'm gonna get some shut-eye.” She turned her back to him, the only bit of privacy she needed, and unzipped her suit.
     As she shrugged out of it, she realized that, while her bad mood had dissipated, she could still feel the leftover adrenaline coursing through her veins. Come to think of it, if she couldn't beat someone to a pulp in a brawl, she'd settle for the next best thing.
     She turned to look at Ed again. He had holstered his pistol and risen from his seat, and was staring at her. His wide, dark brown irises made it look as if he had solid jet buttons for eyes. His head ticced forward, soft grunts coming from his throat. “Huh, huh, huh...” Such grunts were the only real noise Shenzi had ever heard him make. The sight would have made the regal denizens of the Simba court quake with revulsion.
     Her hands fisted in the material bunched at her waist, and shoved it downward. “C'mere,” she said.

     What followed next was a sort of controlled riot between the two of them. She tore the zipper down the front of his jumpsuit with such force that she ruined it, and one of them – it really didn't matter which of them it was – clawed another hole in it as he kicked it off and tried to pin her to the bed. They wrestled back and forth, and Shenzi discovered that she was finally up against a male who proved a match for her in brute strength. By the time she pinned him to the mattress, his head between her legs, she was panting from the exertion.
     He must have felt her relax her guard atop him, because he abruptly rolled, putting her underneath him. His cock slid free of its sheath and bobbed against her cheek. Grabbing hold of her own engorged clit and giving it a firm wrench to keep her in line, he lined his shaft up with her maw and shoved it inside her mouth.
     Shenzi groaned around the thick flesh that filled her mouth. Oh, he was a big one – easily the biggest she'd ever had to wrap her lips around. The blunt head of his cock shoved against the back of her throat and rubbed hard; if she had possessed a gag reflex, her stomach would have been heaving. As it was, she had to arch her neck and squirm further down the bed – even though it meant another searing twist to her clit – to swallow him properly.
     Her clit had already stiffened to its full eight inches, and quivered and twitched with anticipation of his newest assaults during the brief respites of mere suckling that he allowed her. Otherwise, he tortured her with his teeth, scraping them against the tender, turgid flesh, taking it and pinching it with a diabolical sort of delicacy in the crushing grip of his fangs. Even on the rare occasions that he thrust his head downward and took her entire length down his throat, it presented a new form of torture, a novel sort of overstimulation as she found her increasingly-sensitive clit bathed in warmth and pressure.
     She was giving as good as she was getting. She was not at all shy about using her teeth on him, running them back and forth with enough pressure to feel the undulations of his veins against them. It only seemed to goad him on; his hips bore down against her muzzle, and only the quivering of his thighs on either side of her face belied the discipline that he was exerting to keep his thrusts slow and deliberate as her throat milked what her teeth could not torment.
     Once, she nipped too hard; she heard the growl welling up in his throat as she pinched him and felt him pulse against her tongue. He ground hard into her, and sank his teeth into the twin globes of her labia. His jaws worried, kneaded, crushed, until she was writhing under him. She raised an arm and punched him in the stomach; his only reaction as the blow landed on the tense ridges of muscle there was to grunt and cinch his legs even more firmly around her head.
     She was really growing to like him.
     He dragged his lower fangs along the top of her clit, leaving a sensation like fire in their wake. Her full mouth gasped wetly, and she suddenly thrust her head to sheath him completely, her snarling jaws butting up against his balls, as she came.
     She slumped underneath him, dazed by the warm drowsiness that always hit her after an orgasm. Her clit was still ticcing in the aftermath of it as he pulled himself out of her mouth and slid down to straddle her waist. She snarled out a curse as she felt him take her in his hands and compress her to maximize the opening of her clit; it felt as if she was being engulfed by a meat grinder. The searing pain intensified as he pushed into her, the tiny barbs of his cocktip now scraping the inside of her clit like fine-grained sandpaper. Fortunately for her, he didn't last long after that; just three hard thrusts, and he sucked in a breath and exhaled in a long growl as he filled her narrow channel with his spunk.
     It took her a moment to realize that they were done. For several minutes, she just lay there, panting and working her fists in the bedding.
     “You son of a bitch,” she murmured, smirking lopsidedly, his cum pooling on her stomach as she receded.
     He grinned back, and left her to nap in proper peace and quiet. .


For further fun reading on female hyena anatomy, click here and here. The more you know!
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