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Rise of the Rodent

Chapter 1

By Draconicon

"That concludes 'The Study of Narcissism as a Tool of Government,' and your sustained view of my ass," Salla said, the white-furred mouse snapping the textbook closed with a shake of his head. "You do realize that your father will fire me if he thinks that you're not actually paying attention to the lessons, right?"

"I could always pay you for something else, you know. I mean, I don't really need most of this."

"No, but he does pay attention to what you're taking in."

"I'd prefer to be taking -"

"Amar, I've already turned you down twice for that."

"Third time's the charm?"

Salla shook his head, though not without a creeping smile at the edge of his muzzle. If nothing else, Amar was persistent, just as he always had been.

He leaned against the poster-covered wall behind him. Were it not for the arched window a few feet to his left and the many diaphanous curtains draped over Amar's bed, one might have assumed that the elephant's room was little different to the many 'rebellious' young men in the west, sporting bands of punk and metal, some well-photographed females, and more than a few gory game posters that he had gained from his father's connections.

Of course, there were other things to be considered, like the magazine that was barely sticking out from his friend's mattress. Salla nudged it with his toes, gently pushing it back into its hiding place.

"Father knows," Amar said.

"Yes, but he doesn't like to be reminded, does he?"

"...I mean, he doesn't have to know that we -"

"We haven't, and I don't really think we will."

"Come on, I'm not that ugly, am I?"

"Not even close, but that's not the reason I'm saying no."

Amar rolled his eyes, rising from his chair to drape himself over his bed. It was odd to see an elephant do something as elegant as 'draping' himself over anything, but Amar managed it, lowering himself gradually over silken sheets of blue and silver, sighing as he extended one leg after the other towards the mouse. His clothes, unlike most of those in New Adar, were more western, made of denim and polyester rather than the traditional cloth that was draped over the body, and he seemed to particularly like flaunting it.

Particularly the way that it hugged his groin. The elephant went back to squeezing himself down there, the six-foot-three elephant grinning as he kept looking Salla over. He tilted his head, light coming through the window playing off the silver rings on his tusks.

"I can't tempt you?"

"Not today," Salla said.

Or ever, if the white-furred, five-foot-even mouse had his way. He tucked the philosophy book under his arm, reaching for his sandals and sliding them on. Unlike his friend, he didn't have the connections or money to call in some of the fashion from across the seas, nor the interest, for that matter. The dull browns of his wrap - pulled over one shoulder and exposing the ragged tan undershirt beneath it - was all that he needed, and honestly all that he had to his name. Money, such as it was, went to other necessities.

As Amar groaned in frustration, there was a rap at the door. The elephant sat up immediately, feet to the floor, and Salla continued gathering his few materials. The mouse had his books tucked under his arm and his wallet open when the door opened and the Councilman stepped in.

"Mr. Mensur," Salla said, bowing his head ever so slightly. "The lessons went well today."

"My son hasn't been a problem, I trust?"

"Not at all, sir."

A lie that they were all too familiar with, and one that he knew was already disbelieved. Councilman Samir Mensur, an elephant that stood another four inches taller than Amar, looked down at his son and shook his head before snapping his fingers.

"Come, Salla."

The mouse knew the routine. He would be escorted out of the rich house, the Councilman keeping an eye on him the whole way to make sure that he didn't steal anything or go anywhere that he wasn't supposed to. Not that he ever had, but the divide between those on the east side of New Adar and those on West-Side ran deep.

He fell in step behind the taller elephant, the glint of gold off the Councilman's tusks and the shining white traditional wrap he clothed himself in rather blinding as they stepped into the open hallway that led along the interior courtyard of the manor. The red stripe that ran down the elephant's sleeve wasn't much better, almost like a blood stripe that continued to reflect the light somehow.

They had barely taken two steps before a powerful gray hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing tight. Salla bit back the wince that wanted to appear on his face as the Councilman's thumb threatened to pop his arm out of its socket.

"You will not fall for my son's requests."

"I haven't."

"He keeps saying you tempt him."

"I haven't done anything. And you can check your cameras if you don't believe me."

"..."

"Anything else, Mr. Mensur?"

"Yes. I am a Councilman, and you will refer to me as such."

The fingers loosened, and they kept walking. Despite the cool breeze coming off the bay just outside, there was still much of the afternoon heat beating down on them, and the balcony did little to alleviate that.

They took the stairs down to the inner courtyard, and the elephant took his time to gently smooth out Salla's clothes, removing the wrinkles from the grip just a moment ago. The mouse knew what that meant; there would be reporters outside, each one looking to get some time with the Councilman, and Mr. Mensur would be doing his best to play to them, particularly now that he had something to offer.

Being the evidence of 'caring for the little man' is demeaning.

But it was something that allowed him to have a job. The Councilman was a rising star in New Adar, someone that was poised to take governorship within a year if the election went well, and he had the backing of many of the rich men on the east side of the city. If he got any notable support from West-Side at all, he could carry the vote.

Salla wished him all the worst luck.

"Say nothing," the Councilman said.

"Do I ever?"

"Shut up."

And just like that, they were outside, standing on the sandstone steps leading up to the Councilman's mansion. Many different men and women waited for them, most of the elephant and badger species, but here and there, a cat that had made good or a rabbit that had married well showed their face. Cameras flashed and the people shouted for attention, with one of the badgers pushing to the front.

"Councilman, the city's buzzing with the news that you've been offering scholarships to those in West-Side. Can you confirm this statement?"

"That's completely accurate. While I hope to push through some greater laws through the city council that offer opportunity to all our citizens, it's important that we start with those at the bottom to shore up our foundation. As you can see, we've already started by hiring some rodents here around Adarin Bay."

Thump went the hand on his shoulder, and Salla could feel all the eyes shifting from the elephant to him. Explained the request to be particularly well-groomed today and to bring his best clothes, such as they were. He idly pushed one hand down his wraps, pulling them a little tighter around his hips, and shuffled as his legs, bare from the knee down, were heating up more than he'd like in the afternoon sun.

White fur did not, he had to admit, keep the sun off as much as one would like. And pink eyes, too, did not help with keeping the glare off the water.

"Councilman, it's been said that you're looking at improving West-Side for potential investors. Can we get a quote on that?"

"There will be massive improvements for all of New Adar. However, we must look at the way that the western side of our city has fallen into disrepute and figure out a way to bring something back to it. The entirety of the city needs to be better, not just the east side."

"Councilman, is it true that you're keeping this mouse as a boy-toy?"

Even Salla blinked at that question, and all the other reporters went silent. The crowd parted to reveal a rat female, dressed in something clearly foreign. Western, for sure, and the sort of western that was there to get in trouble. Tan cargo shorts, a vest that had too many pockets, and cleavage. A lot of cleavage.

Samir didn't skip a beat. He chuckled, shaking his head.

"What a strange question. You know that my wife was buried just last year. There is no reason for me to...how did you put it? Keep a mouse as a boy-toy?"

"Except that there's all sorts of reports of what you do when nobody's looking. I've been -"

"Do you have an actual question, or just an accusation without grounds?"

Salla was having to force himself not to grit his teeth as those fingers were digging in again, and this time, quite a bit deeper. They were probably not that obvious to everyone watching, but he felt like he was going to get his arm torn off if he didn't get free of the elephant, and soon.

The rest of the crowd of reporters were starting to laugh, but the rat continued to try and push her questions. She spoke up louder, holding her microphone out.

"There's been reports of you having private meetings with the police, and that you've been scouring the cells. Is this more of a public stunt to hide that, or -"

As Samir gestured off to the side, doubtlessly to the security forces that were allotted to elected officials, Salla took it as his cue to get the hell out of there. He ducked out from under the elephant's grip and darted down the street, slipping between the buildings and zigzagging away from the familiar mansion. He didn't look up; he knew that if he did, he'd see Amar watching him leave.

Pity that they were at such a point; they used to be good friends, spending time on the bridges and meeting up post-school. Used to be that he was a good guy, less focused on that sort of thing, less eager to try and do something to bother his father.

But times changed. Oh, how they changed.

Salla darted between the dome-topped, multi-spired mansions for nearly a half-hour, taking his time to make sure that the reporter pool wasn't following him before moving back to the bay-side street. He doubted that any of them would be interested in an interview with a mouse - too little credibility, and they wouldn't really get a good story without some corroborating evidence that he couldn't provide - but there was always the possibility that they might try and twist something he said into a story. Much as he didn't like the Councilman, he _did_have a job under the elephant, and he didn't want to endanger that, not when there was still so much uncertainty out there.

He followed the bay-side street to the main bridge that crossed the bay and the river Rumis that fed it. As he walked over the white-stone bridge, he looked down towards the bay and the great sea, and then back up the Rumis itself, taking in the differences between the east side and West-Side.

The east side was as rich and well-developed as one could have imagined. The gentle riverbank along the eastern bank rose up in soft sandy beaches, isolated by natural rock formations, and eventually curved into crisscrossing paths that led up to the streets above. There was just enough width to the paths for golf carts and other such things to be driven down, leading to either those aforementioned isolated beaches or to little docks where yachts and more were tied up for the day, waiting for their owners to take them either out to sea or up and down the Rumis to visit friends.

Salla shook his head as he looked over the richly-appointed houses, those that were not manors striving to be, under constant renovations and adding new rooms, new turrets and mini-spires to them. Most had some sort of flag hanging from them, showing the slogans and crests of the different councilmen that the family within supported, only occasionally broken with a second flag from the same house to show a split.

Badgers and elephants roamed the streets, dressed in rich yellows and reds, with the occasional blue and white to break them up. Food was served in restaurants, each with its own outdoor garden, and one could not take two steps without seeing some new rich decoration either hanging from one of the houses or put up by city order at an intersection for anyone to admire. Cars rushed by, but never driven by the ones that were being taken anywhere; he had yet to see anyone on the east side driving their own car.

On West-Side, however...

He leaned against the railing that guarded against anyone falling the hundred-some feet from the top of the bridge to the center of the Rumis, shaking his head as he looked at the side of the city that he called home. West-Side had its own name, rather than just being the west side of New Adar, because it might as well have been a different city. Rather than beaches that had been carefully curated and sanded from the desert further inland, the shores on the west side of the river were covered in concrete, creating docks and ports for the cargo ships that came through, and warehouses that blocked off any access to the river proper from those that lived beyond them.

Not that the houses past the docks and warehouses were much better; he lived in them, he would know. The majority of housing on West-Side was either single-room family dwellings in clay-and-stone walled apartments, or - for the particularly lucky - a tiny little house that was set on wheels that they moved from lot to lot when things got a little dicey. Some families even had a generator that they could bring along with them.

Salla shook his head. The well-off folks, or at least, those that West-Side could call well-off, worked at the docks and managed to rise up the ranks. Everyone else? Well, they either worked for the better-off folks on the east side - either as house workers, drivers, or something of that ilk - for decent pay, did public works for the city for less decent pay, or caused trouble.

"Bridger!"

The mouse looked up from his ruminations as a troop of cats crossed the bridge from the other side, ignoring the insult as best he could. There was a disconnect in West-Side for those that had jobs on the other side; he was used to people looking down on him, like he didn't have an honest job like the rest of them. He shook his head, leaning back against the railing once more as a slightly taller black and white cat, dressed in imported - and likely stolen - leather looked down at him.

"Mamun."

"Heh, Salla. Going home?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You know the toll. Cash or ass."

"Cash."

"Work that hard, and you don't even want to keep it."

The other cats laughed at that, and Salla did his best to not look at some of the others that milled about among the felines. Mamun's gang wasn't the worst of them, but they did engage in the usual pastime of West-Side of preying on those that were a bit less well-off. The gang members were all felines, but they had others that they 'kept.'

Mostly mice, too. Some of the gang members had a 'toy' that they kept with them, and Mamun was no exception, pulling a gray-furred mouse to his side. Must have been a new one; last one had been black-furred. This one wore a skirt that was smooth and lacked a hemline, probably something that had been made in a hurry in hopes of attracting someone's interest, and there was a clear bulge beneath it, and no chest to speak of.

Mamun flipped the back of the mouse's skirt up, and the rodent gasped, 'her' mouth going wide and her eyes going back as she wiggled her ass back against the cat's fingers. The way that Mamun hammered at her from behind with his hand, there was no doubt what he was doing.

"You sure you don't want to pay the other way, Salla? Offer's open, you know. And it's cheaper."

"I'll pass."

"Heh. One of these days, you won't."

"One of these days, I'll throw myself off the bridge."

"Maybe I'll send one of my boys after you."

Salla shook his head. It wasn't the first time that Mamun had made the offer, and if he hadn't had the job under the Councilman, he would have considered it. Mice that took the offer of gang protection actually did have some benefits; they had protection from the other gangs, they didn't have to pay the 'toll,' and they tended to get paid and given special baubles from the gang member that liked them.

The problem was, if they ever stopped being interested in you, you could be dropped instantly and without warning, and it would be very, very difficult to go from being someone's treasure to being someone else's possession. Getting out of that rut was almost impossible for a number of mice, and he could already tell that this one was getting a little too attached to the role. As Mamun fingered her, hard, her cock throbbed visibly beneath her skirt, and -

"Nnngh...mmmph...ah...ah..."

The splatter came quickly, and Salla shook his head.

"Whatever you're dosing her with, it's going to fuck with her head eventually."

"That's the plan."

Sighing, he pulled a few bills from his pockets. Mamun took them with his clean hand, tucking them into his own pockets.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Salla."

"Off to your pleasures, then."

"Keep the offer in mind if you ever get bored of being a Bridger."

"I'll keep it in mind."

He walked around the black and white cat, continuing down the bridge to West-Side. His family should be happy enough about the money today; Mr. Mensur had paid him before the press conference this time, and that meant that he hadn't had the chance to short him out of bad temper.

The End

Summary: Salla Ismat, a young mouse in the city of New Adar, is just trying to make a living. Welcome to the world of his life, and take a look at how much needs to change.

Tags: M/M, Fingering, Groping, Flirting, Cum, Orgasm, Mouse, Salla, Elephant, Cat, Badger, Rat, Press Conference, Series, Size Difference, Crossdressing,