Club Fang

"Good evening, Kev," Fang greeted as he entered the human's apartment, a warm smile softening his stern features. "Are you ready for our little outing?"

Kev nodded, a nervous excitement fluttering in his chest. "Yes, I am," he replied, stepping aside to let Fang enter.

"Tonight," Fang continued, his voice taking on a more business-like tone, "we're going to get you some new outfits. As my assistant, you should have clothes that reflect your position. Something a bit more... refined." He paused, a playful glint in his eyes. "And perhaps a few things for those… special occasions."

Fang, with a gentlemanly gesture, escorted Kev to the club's entrance, his hand resting lightly on the small of Kev's back. They walked past the very first customers of the night entering, the line of excited beastmen extending down the large stone steps that lead from the courtyard to the front door where a large black car waited, its boxy and wide body contrasting with the sleek chrome cars that waited behind it. The owl-man valet, ever attentive, held the car door open for them, his large round eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

As they settled into the plush leather seats, Fang turned to Kev with a warm smile. "We have a few stops to make tonight," he explained, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the car's interior. "Then we'll be meeting one of my friends for dinner in the city."

Kev's curiosity was piqued. "Who's the friend?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Fang rolled down the window, letting the cool night air fill the car. "His name is Ralph," he replied, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. "He's a business associate of mine. Someone who's... in logistics."

Kev tilted his head, a puzzled expression on his face. "Logistics?" he echoed, unsure of what that entailed in this context.

Fang chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down Kev's spine. "He's a supplier," he clarified, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Of various things we use in the club. Drinks, food, certain... substances."

Fang's arm draped casually over Kev's shoulders, pulling him closer. "Ralph's restaurant is one of the best in the city," he confided, a hint of pride in his voice. "We often hire from his staff for our entertainment nights. He's not the biggest fan of it, but he can't complain too much since we buy all our perishables from him." A sly grin spread across Fang's face. "It's a mutually beneficial arrangement."

The car sped down the long, winding driveway, leaving the bustling club behind. As they approached the security checkpoint, a line of eager patrons snaked along the road, their anticipation palpable even from a distance. Rex, ever vigilant, spotted their car and approached, his muscular frame casting a long shadow in the moonlight. He leaned down, his face close to the window, and exchanged a few hushed words with the owl man driver.

"Have a good time out there, boss," he said with a respectful nod. "We'll make sure things are kept peaceful here."

Fang's lips curled into a confident smirk. "Make sure you do, Rex," he replied, his tone firm but not unkind.

With a final pat on the roof of the car, Rex stepped back, and they continued their journey. As they emerged from the wooded enclave onto the main road, Kev's breath caught in his throat. The contrast between the secluded, almost medieval world of the club and the vibrant cityscape that lay before them was breathtaking.

Dala'Bon was not just a modern city; it was a futuristic metropolis that pulsed with energy and innovation. Neon signs, holographic projections, and towering skyscrapers painted the night sky in a dazzling array of colors. The streets teemed with a diverse crowd of beastmen and beastwomen, their laughter and chatter creating a symphony of sound. Sleek, aerodynamic vehicles, some hovering silently above the ground, zipped through the traffic, their headlights cutting through the darkness like laser beams.

Kev's eyes widened in awe, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer scale and vibrancy of the city. It was a world unlike anything he'd ever imagined, a testament to the boundless creativity and ingenuity of its inhabitants. He couldn't wait to explore its hidden depths, to discover the secrets and wonders that awaited him in this extraordinary place.

The owl man driver, a master of his craft, expertly navigated the bustling streets, weaving through traffic with a grace that belied the car's size and power. Kev, his eyes glued to the window, took in the kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that flashed by. Fang, ever the enthusiastic tour guide, pointed out landmarks and notable establishments, his voice filled with pride for his city.

Kev was overwhelmed, his senses bombarded by the sheer scale and energy of Dala'Bon. It was like downtown Tokyo, but on a city-wide scale, every corner pulsating with life and innovation. He tried to absorb it all, the towering skyscrapers, the holographic advertisements that danced in mid-air, the diverse crowd of beastmen and beastwomen going about their lives.

Finally, the car slowed to a stop in front of a massive clothing store, its windows showcasing an array of dazzling outfits and accessories. Fang, ever the gentleman, helped Kev out of the car, his hand lingering on Kev's arm for a moment longer than necessary.

"Welcome to 'Threads of the Wild'," he announced, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "The finest fabrics in all of Dala'Bon."

He led the way into the store, his imposing presence parting the crowd like the Red Sea. Other shoppers, recognizing Fang, gave him a wide berth, their eyes filled with a mixture of respect and curiosity. Kev, feeling a bit self-conscious under their scrutiny, and fearing the mass of the crowd outside this little protective bubble, clung to Fang's side, grateful for the wolfman's protective aura.

The owl-man driver remained by the car, his gleaming eyes scanning the surroundings, ever vigilant.

A poised attendant, a graceful swan-woman with feathers as white as snow, greeted them at the entrance. "Mr. Fang," she said with a respectful bow, "you may take the elevator downstairs."

Fang nodded in acknowledgement, then turned to Kev with a reassuring smile. "This way," he said, guiding him through the bustling shop floor. The store was a sensory overload, a kaleidoscope of colors, textures, and styles. Mannequins, dressed in the latest fashions, lined the walls, their blank stares watching the shoppers with an eerie intensity. The air buzzed with the excited chatter of customers and the rhythmic hum of sewing machines from a hidden workshop.

Fang, unfazed by the commotion, led Kev to the back of the store, where an unassuming door bore a discreet "Employees Only" sign. He pressed the down arrow on the elevator panel, and the doors slid open silently.

The descent was swift and smooth, the elevator opening onto a vast, brightly lit workshop. Rows of tailors, their heads bent over their work, meticulously stitched and embroidered fabrics, the rhythmic hum of their machines creating a soothing soundtrack. The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut cloth and the subtle tang of machine oil.

Fang navigated the rows of workbenches, his confident strides leading them towards an office tucked away in the back corner. He flung open the door without knocking, his booming voice echoing through the space. "Marybelle!" he announced, a playful grin on his face. "I've brought you a new canvas!"

A startled gasp echoed through the office as a gecko woman, her emerald scales shimmering under the fluorescent lights, tossed a handful of pins into the air with a shriek. "Fang, you bastard!" she exclaimed, her voice sharp and exasperated. "Why can't you ever knock?!"

Her anger dissipated as her gaze fell upon Kev, standing awkwardly beside Fang. A moment of stunned silence hung in the air, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the sewing machines in the background.

Kev, feeling a bit flustered, offered a tentative, "Hello."

Marybelle's eyes, large and expressive, scanned Kev from head to toe, taking in his every detail. Without a word, she approached him and gently grasped his arms, pulling them out to the sides. She produced a tape measure from her pocket and began meticulously recording Kev's measurements, her movements swift and precise.

"My name is Kev, by the way," Kev offered, trying to break the ice.

Fang chuckled, settling into a plush armchair in the corner of the office. "Marybelle, do you think you can get him fixed up for me?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

Marybelle sighed, her gaze still fixed on Kev. "Of course I can," she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. "Just give me an hour, and I'll have him looking like a million bucks."

Marybelle, lost in her own world of fabrics and measurements, began mumbling to herself as she gathered a selection of materials from the piles scattered around her office. She held them up to Kev's face, her eyes narrowing in concentration.

"Hmm, skin is an odd color," she muttered, her voice barely audible above the hum of the sewing machines. "Blue eyes and brown hair... I haven't had a client with this sort of color swatch before. It's... intriguing."

Kev, feeling a bit like a specimen under a microscope, tentatively reached out to touch one of the fabrics. "I like this one," he said, his voice soft.

Marybelle swatted his hand away, her tone sharp. "Quiet while I work," she commanded, her focus returning to her task.

Fang, watching the scene unfold from his armchair, couldn't help but chuckle. He found Marybelle's bluntness and single-minded focus amusing. He leaned back, crossing his legs and folding his arms across his chest, content to watch Kev get fitted for his new wardrobe. The human's awkwardness in the face of Marybelle's scrutiny was endearing, and Fang couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness towards him. He was looking forward to seeing Kev transformed, dressed in clothes that would reflect his newfound status and highlight his unique beauty.

Marybelle, having finished her initial assessment of Kev's measurements, turned her attention to Fang. "Any specific requests, boss?" she inquired, her tone professional but with a hint of challenge in her eyes.

Fang chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Marybelle, you are the artist here," he replied with a playful grin. "A mere uneducated brute like myself could never hope to understand how you perform your miracles."

She snorted, a hint of amusement softening her usually stern expression. "That's true," she conceded. "Leave us for now. Go pick him some shoes and accessories from the shop upstairs. I'll handle the rest."

She paused, her gaze sweeping over Kev's form once more. "And no gold," she added, her voice firm. "Stick with silver. It'll complement his coloring better."

Fang raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'm sure you'll have plenty to say about my choices," he teased.

Marybelle shrugged. "It's not hard, Fang," she retorted. "Just pick the right things."

Fang chuckled again, then turned to Kev with a warm smile. "I'll be back soon," he said, squeezing Kev's shoulder gently. "Behave yourself."

With a final wink, he left the office, leaving Kev alone with the formidable gecko tailor.

Kev felt a pang of vulnerability as Fang left the room, leaving him alone with the enigmatic Marybelle. She had barely spoken three words to him since their initial encounter, her focus entirely consumed by her work. Yet, in the span of a single hour, she had conjured up a near-complete suit, its fabric draped over a dress form in the corner. The suit was a masterpiece of tailoring, its lines clean and precise, hugging Kev's slender frame without a hint of wrinkle or excess fabric. The simple design was accentuated by subtle silver thread, its shimmer catching the light with every movement.

Marybelle stepped back, her critical eye scanning the suit. "Hmm," she murmured, a frown creasing her brow. "No tail... presents a challenge." She seemed to be contemplating how to adapt her designs to Kev's distinctly human anatomy.

Just then, the door swung open, and Fang returned, laden with bags from the shop upstairs. He surveyed the scene with a satisfied grin. "Any progress, Marybelle?" he inquired, his voice carrying a playful lilt.

Marybelle nodded, gesturing towards the suit. "Almost done," she replied, her tone clipped but not unkind. "Just a few finishing touches." She stepped back to admire her handiwork, a flicker of pride in her eyes.

Fang whistled appreciatively. "Impressive, as always," he said, setting the bags down on a nearby table. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint."

Fang handed Kev one of the bags, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Go on, try it on," he urged. "Let's see how Marybelle's magic works."

Marybelle, meanwhile, carefully lifted the finished suit from the dress form and handed it to Kev. "The dressing room is over there," she said, pointing to a curtained-off corner.

Kev, feeling a mix of excitement and self-consciousness, disappeared behind the curtain. Fang, unable to resist the temptation, peeked around the edge, his gaze lingering on Kev's exposed back and the graceful curve of his waist as he undressed. 

Kev emerged a few minutes later, transformed. The suit fit him impeccably, the tailored lines accentuating his slender physique without being restrictive. He'd paired it with a shimmering silver undershirt and matching socks, and the shoes, with their gleaming silver buckles, added a touch of understated elegance. A simple belt completed the ensemble, cinching his waist and highlighting his lean hips.

Marybelle stepped forward, a critical eye assessing her work. She fussed with Kev's collar, adjusting the pant legs, and finally, tucked a silver handkerchief into his breast pocket. She stepped back, her gaze sweeping over Kev's form.

"Well, Fang?" she asked, turning to the wolfman with a challenging glint in her eyes. "What are your thoughts?"

Fang's expression was one of pure admiration. "Marybelle," he said, his voice a low rumble, "you are the best in the city."

She smirked, a rare display of pride. "In the world, more like it," she corrected him. "But I'm not done yet. I'll send over a few more outfits tomorrow. Different styles, different occasions."

Fang nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Marybelle. You're a lifesaver." He turned to Kev, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Well, my dear assistant, are you ready for our next stop?"

Once again ensconced in the luxurious backseat of the car, Fang reached into one of the bags and produced a small, velvet-lined box. He opened it with a flourish, revealing a gleaming silver watch, its intricate gears and hands catching the moonlight.

"This is for you," he said, offering it to Kev with a warm smile.

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. "Fang, it's beautiful," he breathed, carefully taking the watch from its case. "But it looks really expensive."

Fang chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the car's interior. "You'll need to know the time if you're going to be a good assistant," he teased, gently taking Kev's wrist and fastening the watch around it. The cool metal felt surprisingly comfortable against Kev's skin.

"It's hard to find a mechanical watch these days," Fang explained, his gaze lingering on the intricate timepiece. "Most people just check their phones… when I saw this in the shop, I knew you needed to have it."

Kev's heart swelled with gratitude. He raised his wrist, admiring the watch's craftsmanship. "Thank you, Fang," he said sincerely, leaning over to give the wolfman a quick kiss on the cheek.

Fang beamed, his eyes sparkling with delight. "You're very welcome, Kev," he replied, his voice husky with emotion. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "Now, our next stop is the salon. We need to make sure your hair is as impeccable as your new suit."