ShapeShifter Kisses

June 26, 2013

Are Wranglers For Sale in Talbot’s Peak? by Savanna Kougar


Wednesday kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

Hope summer is treating you right. Okay, since my tigress shapeshifter, Kytaira, decided not to talk this week, I let my imagination run with this flash scene.

Are Wranglers For Sale in Talbot’s Peak?

Startled by the sign on the shop’s door, Kagaya halted. “Wrangler Apparel On Sale,” she repeated beneath her breath — in case any of the Earth races in Talbot’s Peak wondered why she read a sign out loud.

She’d only learned Americanese since arriving at her people’s base, about three months ago, according to her cowboy calendar. The long-established Earth research facility Kagaya now called home was hidden deep inside the nearby mountain range.

“Wrangler,” she mouthed. Could it be the store was really selling wranglers? Kagaya snatched the primitive e-reader device out of the pocket of her hiking shorts.

Since discovering what were called romance novels, she’d developed a passion for the pretend stories, especially erotic, happily-ever-after westerns.

Using her mind power, Kagaya commanded ‘wrangler’. A lineup of ebooks appeared, and she rapidly reviewed the content.

No, Kagaya wrinkled her brow — not one mention of a wrangler being purchased in a shop. Still…

What if they were being sold? Maybe for ranch work.

If so, she wanted one for her very own… not that she had a ranch for him. Her people did keep several types of animals at the base, including a stable of Earth horses.

Kagaya didn’t want to be cruel… yet, if he could adapt, she’d give him a good home.

Staring at the sign again, she tilted her head. ‘Apparel,’ she assumed that meant the wrangler came fully attired in ranch gear. Wouldn’t that be deliciously entertaining? Dressing her very own wrangler in various cowboy outfits.

Dressing, and undressing him. Kagaya hotly shivered inside, her hormones surging like the particle tides in space.

Flashing back to what she’d been taught, Kagaya frowned again. Owning another human being wasn’t lawful in America. Then, buying one didn’t seem possible…

“Can I help you? You’re looking lost,” a friendly voice interrupted.

Kagaya smiled at the woman she identified as a wolf shapeshifter by her energy body. “I am new in town.”

“Me too, sort of. Shevry is my name.” The wolf woman offered her hand.

Kagaya slipped the e-reader inside her pocket, then shook sable-haired woman’s hand briefly. “I’m Kagaya. Nice to meet you, Shevry.”

“I just arrived for the summer. I was here last year visiting my Aunt Sozchy.  She writes a love advice column for the newspaper, and does a radio show at the Pleasure Club.”

“Pleasure Club…yes, I do remember…learning about the club.” Kagaya stumbled over her words, the images she’d been shown flitting across her mind. “I’ve never been there.”

“The disco, Dante’s Inferno, is one of my favorite hangouts.”

“Disco dancing,” Kagaya mentally clicked on what that meant, “yes, that does sound fun.” With curiosity burning a hole through her, and a craving the size of a giant red star, Kagaya asked, “Have you ever shopped at this store?”

“The Prairie Horseshoe. No, they’re new. Hey, I have time. Want to check it out?”

Kagaya nodded in the American way, even though it felt like her head bobbed too fast. Not wanting to appear ignorant, or give away her ET status, Kagaya didn’t ask about the wranglers for sale. Instead, she followed Shevry’s lead, and they entered the western clothing shop.

“This is the real deal,” Shevry remarked.

“Real deal?” Kagaya risked asking.

“Dude, city slicker, rhinestone cowboy,” Shevry crooned with a twang. “No, this clothing is for the working man. Man and woman.”

“Real wranglers,” Kagaya murmured, catching sight of a tall man who fit the bill, as the saying went. He stood at the back of the store, studying a rack of cowboy boots.

She sensed three other presences. Obviously, there was no corral filled with wranglers waiting for homes. Kagaya viscerally felt her disappointment.

She wondered if there was what was called photos or videos instead. She could make a selection, view them, then choose… should she inquire?

Or would she look like a giant prize fool? Was there a difference between enslavement and making a purchase on Earth, in America?

Confusion clouded her thoughts, unusual for Kagaya. Clear thinking, solving the unsolvable was her special talent, what she gave to her people — and one reason she’d been sent to the Earth base for the duration of the transition, this time of ‘chaos-trembling’.

A gently rounded, pretty woman, likely the proprietor, called out, “I’m Lilah. Holler if you  need help. Otherwise, make yourselves at home, and have a look around.”

“Thank you, we will,” Shevry called back, then moved toward a wall of shelving that held what Kagaya identified as denims or jeans.

“You know,” Shevry continued, “I could use some wranglers. I signed up for the weekend trail ride at Merry and Dash’s dude ranch.”

“Do they have wranglers at this dude ranch?” Kagaya dared to ask.

“They sure do, ma’am.” The man spoke in a deep drawling timbre. “Pardon, I couldn’t help but overhear.”

Kagaya whirled, face to face with the tall cowboy. She had to catch her swiftly escaping breaths.  He could easily have stepped into the role as her fantasy romance hero.

“Are you a wrangler?” And are you for sale? she silently asked.

“I’ll be doing some wrangling, helpin’ out Merry and Dash. I sure do hope I can persuade you to join in. Right, Shevry?”

“Deuce, Deuces wild.” Shevry spoke teasingly. “Where did you come from? Last I knew from my aunt you’d high-tailed it down Arizona way.”

“Summer in Arizona, nope, not in the cards. Besides, the Peak was callin’ my name. Now I know why.”

His direct gaze penetrated Kagaya, then embraced her good and tight. Unused to this level of boldness from a man, she took a step back.

By his frequency Deuce was not only a puma shapeshifter, but a dimensional traveler. Even now, he’d  lessened his physical density. No wonder she hadn’t heard his steps, or sensed his approach.

Goddess, Kagaya wanted to close her eyes for a moment, savor the outdoor virile smell of him. Instead, she blurted out like a giant fool, “The sign says ‘Wrangler Apparel On Sale’. Does that mean you’re for sale, since you wrangle?”

In the following silence, mortification felt as if it burned Kagaya alive. She should have done more studying before venturing into Talbot’s Peak.

If it wouldn’t have made the situation worse, Kagaya would have altered her vibration, and transported herself back to the base. As it was, she needed a quick solution. “I…I have an appointment. If you’ll excuse me.”

Hoping she’d acted according to custom, Kagaya spun on her heel toward the door.

After a few strides, a firm large hand claimed her elbow. “I’ll walk you to your appointment.”

“No need,” she began.

“I’m feeling a decided need. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m even thinkin’ of putting myself up for sale. And I’ll wear Wrangler jeans whenever you want.”

Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance


Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire

June 19, 2013

Tigress Shapeshifter ~ I am a killer… but never of innocents… by Savanna Kougar

Filed under: Uncategorized — Savanna Kougar @ 9:35 am


Wednesday kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

The summer solstice is almost here, and there’s what is called a super moon this coming weekend. Enjoy the summer months ahead. The year is speeding by so fast I can barely keep track of it.

This is the third installment starring my tigress heroine, Kytaira, and her black tiger man, Zurroc.

Tigress Shapeshifter ~ I am a killer… but never of innocents…

Continued from last week ~

“What the shooting star! How can they do this? Those people need help.” I re-read the small article. “If my head wasn’t firmly attached, it would be spinning, then orbiting around the moon.”

“As we know, suffering seems to be of no consequence to those who live like the Earth kings of old.” Zurroc’s tone condemns.

“Yeah, let them eat cake,” I mutter.


Moodiness claims me as I watch NYC’s familiar skyline disappear. A dismal gray haze has captured the Big Apple already. “Like a foreshadowing,” I say.

Zurroc slides the moving truck into the steady of stream of traffic on the freeway. He has become an expert driver of Earth’s primitive vehicles. A valuable skill, since I have little patience for it.

“We both know the signs, my tigress.”

“The odor of decay, of death was everywhere… I wish…” I halt my words knowing they will not bring the miracles I would wish for — so many innocents, yet their fate has been sealed. Unless they choose to leave.

As tigress, I am a killer at heart. But never of innocents — never those who live with good and generous hearts. Then, my nature is to protect, to rescue.

I rumble a soft moan, and remove my gaze from the outer-edge, decaying buildings we pass by. A part of me mourns for what will be.

“It’s time for us to join forces with those who roar with life.”

Zurroc’s alpha power sensuously tingles my blood as he speaks.

“Right you are, my tiger man. I’m looking forward to Talbot’s Peak, being with those who build and create the future as it should be.”

I crumple the empty cellophane bag, shoving it in the small trash container. Earlier, Zurroc and I polished off the buffalo jerky.

“Still hungry?” I ask, then fish through our goody bag in search of what will hit the spot. With the days of packing and logistics planning, Zurroc and I skimped on meals.

“The turkey and pumpkin treats,” he answers helpfully.

“Arf, ruff,” I badly imitate a dog’s bark. Quickly, I locate the large bag of organic pet treats both of us have developed a real fondness for.

“Open,” I say, once I’m poised and ready to toss one of the nuggets.

Without taking his gaze off the road, Zurroc slightly tilts his head back, then parts his lips.

“Score,” I triumphantly yowl, as the treat vanishes inside his mouth.

Satisfying my hunger, I munch on the tasty nuggets, passing them one by one to Zurroc. As I enjoy, I can’t help but think about the Oklahomans who have been tornado-ravaged. About the generosity of the Canadians who tried to send them food and aid.

My anger gets a solid foothold. I scowl at the high-handed pettiness, the power-tripping stupidity of the border guards.  

“Side trip, love?” Zurroc asks, reading my thoughts.

I don’t answer immediately, taking time to contemplate the consequences that could arise if we hunt down the Canadian truck full of food. In the end, it proves to be a futile effort in the face of my rising anger — my fierce desire for a kindly justice.

“Canada, here we come,” I say, my words clipped, ferocious. “People cared enough to give to others. That sacred act should be respected.”

Zurroc growls ominously, his righteous rage fueled. “Convoy,” he utters.

“If that truckload of food can’t be tracked, or… whatever, yes, absolutely a convoy. We’ll gather up supplies, more food.” My jaw firms with savage determination. 

“Nothing like a change in plans to fire the blood.” Zurroc’s hand tightens on the steering wheel.

“Nothing like coffee to fire up my brain synapses,” I say, reaching for the thermos, and mugs.

This time, as we roll smoothly, locked in the traffic grid, I pour the dark fragrant liquid into our mugs, and pass one to Zurroc. We sip companionably.

“We could encounter a strong military response.” Zurroc lowers his mug, resting it on top of his thigh.

“Good thing we have time to plan for that likely contingency.”

Balancing my mug, I reach for the know-it-all globe, as I affectionately call the bio-device that carries a wealth of knowledge about Earth. The globe sits in my palm, and warms at my touch.

“I estimate leaving this traffic behind in about an hour, my Kytaira. Then, I’ll super-charge the engine, lessen our driving time.”

“That’s my tiger man. Pedal to the metal. Are you up to watching out for the highway patrol smokies?”

“Keep feeding me, and the answer is yes.”

I finish off my coffee, make certain the thermos is capped, then bend over searching for what Zurroc calls his mind-power food. The wild-game formula is from Dante, and dried for convenience.

Once I’ve opened the jar, and set it in the holder for Zurroc, I lift the globe activating it with my gaze. Sparks of light move like shooting stars.

“I’ll map out the route to the border crossing, and gather all the available data on our save-the-food operation.”

“I’ll concentrate on driving, and keeping the smokies off our tail,” Zurroc intones seriously, yet dry amusement colors his voice. 

“I love the way you drive. More coffee?” I retrieve Zurroc’s empty mug.

“Save the coffee for later. You love the way I drive only because you don’t want to do it.” Zurroc’s tone is bantering.

“Partly true. I will admit. But I find it manly, and I do love watching you.” My heart thumps faster, warming with how much I feel — the intensity of my passion.

“You’re distracting the driver in a highly desirable way,” Zurroc intimately growls, his passion obvious.

“Okay, I can take a hint. No more distracting…” I’ve leaned toward the small ice chest.  Rummaging about briefly, I pull out my prized bottle of raw milk.

“Storage facilities,” Zurroc states several miles later.

I lower the bottle of milk, glancing at him. “Do you mean at the border?”

“Storage of what’s been confiscated. There could be a goldmine, as the Earthers say, of food and other supplies.”

I nod, pondering. “What hasn’t been sold on Ebay, or the black market. Later, I’ll do a mind-reconnaissance. Find out.” When another thought pops to the surface, I say, “Perhaps, Valiant Thor can be persuaded to assist if there is a motherload of supplies.”

“Has he returned from Venus?” Zurroc reaches for my hand, and our palms mate.

“We were in the midst of packing. His telepathic message slipped my mind. But, yes, he’s on his ship orbiting Earth as we speak.”

Zurroc thumbs my palm lazily. He rumbles a knowing laugh when the bio globe I’ve placed on my lap glows, blazes red, then fills the truck cab with a dazzling light.

“Stop that,” I order the globe. “We’re supposed to be traveling incognito.”



Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire


June 12, 2013

Tigress Shapeshifter ~ Scissors instead of your razor claws… by Savanna Kougar

Filed under: Uncategorized — Savanna Kougar @ 10:08 am

Wednesday kisses, shapeshifter lovers…

New moon greetings as well. Apologies for the late posting. A long, way too busy day on Monday.

Okay then, this is the second installment starring my tigress heroine, Kytaira, and her black tiger man, Zurroc.

Once again… Warning: violence ahead.

Tigress Shapeshifter ~ Scissors instead of your razor claws…

Continued from last week ~

The four ninjas who have avoided my weaponized scissors surround me. Like panthers, they circle, stalking…


…seeking a point of attack. For a split second, I pretend to be frozen in fear. When my four enemies mentally take a step back, I flip on my side.

Flash-quick, I seize the scissors pressed against my outer calf inside my boot. In the same motion, I flick my wrist sideways. Those silver beauties whirl like helicopter blades. 

The ninjas counter by combining their force. Blue lightning streams from their fingertips.

Sparks bounce off the gleaming surface of the spinning scissors. But, it’s too late for number twelve ninja.

The point spears through the hollow of his throat like a thrown blade, severing his spinal cord. He crumples.

The three ninjas close in, and I grab the scissors holstered between my shoulder blades. All the while, sparks crackle around me like a barrage of firecrackers.

My protective field holds, and I hurl at the ninja crouching, leaping for the kill. Bull’s-eye, the scissors hit the target. Gruesomely, number ten ninja staggers back, blood leaking from his eye socket.

For my next trick, I slither on the floor snake like — escaping the swift-rolling attack of the two remaining ninjas. Twisting upward, I land on my feet, facing their charge.

My inner tigress roars as I rip the scissors out of the holster at the base of my spine.  Number eleven ninja launches. He flies toward me, his foot extended.

Obviously, he wants to separate my head from the rest of me. My double bladed weapon flies faster. Let’s say castration is the least of his worries.

Suspended in air, the last ninja whirls like a dervish, so rapidly he looks like a mini tornado. I dodge, leap high landing on the loft floor.

He is right behind me, almost riding my butt. I smell his acrid determination to end my existence.

The heel of his hand grazes the center of my back only. I’ve whipped away from the blow that would have broken my back in two, paralyzed me.

I grip both pairs of scissors taped to the support column. Weapons in hand, I whirl positioning myself behind the column as he spins, then aims a kick that would have made my head a splattered melon.

His attack denied, he stops in midair, and falls yielding to gravity. I don’t hear him land.

I do see the glint of the blade as I one-eye him from behind the column. Unusual, but he’s desperate to finish me off.

The hum of his blood is faint, disguised by his smoke body. Yet, my tigress senses tell me exactly how my prey is positioned. Starkly, I feel his muscles bunch and ripple beneath his skin.

The ninja moves, quicker than a striking cobra. His blade softly whistles through the air aiming for my temple.

I’m faster. Moving mere inches, I fling my arms around the column. With a death grip on the handles, I plunge the scissor blades beneath his ribcage, skewering his vital organs.

No, I don’t bother watching his death. It’s enough to smell his life seep away, float from this mortal realm.

Instead, as callous as it may seem to humans, I swiftly retrieve my collection of barber scissors. Once I’ve placed them inside the chest, which is a cleansing unit from my homeworld, I say a silent goodbye to the warehouse.

With the next onslaught of enemies about to arrive, I race outside. Zurroc throws open the passenger door, and I leap inside our truck. He guns the engine, and we rumble-roar down the back street as the sun peeks above NYC’s skyscrapers.

“Good timing… as always, my black tiger.”

“You don’t mind that I beam-dispatched two alphabet agency thugs. They were about to interrupt your scissor-throwing party.”

I hear the self-satisfied grin in his voice.

“Hmmm… smarty pants, as they say here on Earth. You said that because you knew I didn’t detect them.”

“I have to show off somehow for you. Being the male of the species.”

“You certainly did a lot of showing off…” I halt my words, shivering with the fierce heated memory of our recent mating pleasures.

“Coffee, my tigress?” he asks several moments later, even as my cheeks still burn.  “The thermos–”

“I’ve got it,” I interrupt. I fish out two mugs from the duffel bag close to my feet, and also grab the newspaper — our way of keeping watch on the world.

We’re traveling without any e-devices, and Zurroc has disabled the moving trucks various transmitting electronics. No sense in making ourselves an easy target.

“The next time I see you with a pair of scissors I’ll have a new level of respect,” Zurroc praises and teases.

“You’d better. I believe I’ve just proven myself.” I open the thermos inhaling the coffee’s dark rich fragrance.

“Once we arrive in Talbot’s Peak, and settle in, perhaps you should talk to Dante about teaching a martial arts class — specializing in scissors.”

I frown at my black tiger’s obvious amusement. “Did I look that comical?” I demand, well-knowing he kept a hunter’s eye on me as I fought the ninjas. Zurroc can observe me inside his mind, given he’s my assigned protector.

“I have to admit, my Kytaira,  if it hadn’t been a matter of life and death… let’s say I found it humorous.” He pauses, turning onto another back street that leads out of New York City. “Scissors instead of your razor claws,” he adds as if that should explain everything.

Telepathically, I catch glimpses of his mind’s eye view of me in scissor-hurling combat. Reluctantly, I let a smile curve my lips. “Perhaps, I could learn how to design topiaries like Edward Scissorhands.”

Zurroc chuffs a laugh, then focuses on his driving. The street is still relatively clear of traffic, and I know he wants to make good time leaving the Big Apple behind.

“Lady Blade, your human-form call name when we trained,” Zurroc growly reminds. “Even more true now.”

“Lady Blade,” I murmur, remembering those times so long ago.

The truck bounces over the poorly maintained road, and I screw the lid back on the thermos. “I’ll wait to pour the coffee. How about snacking on buffalo jerky?”

Zurroc rumbles a yes, and I bend down to retrieve the package. As I rip it open, I notice he’s circled a small headline.

Canadian relief for Moore tornado victims denied at border U.S. border officials want 20,000 kg of food itemized, physically inspected before entering

“What the shooting star! How can they do this? Those people need help.” I re-read the small article. “If my head wasn’t firmly attached, it would be spinning, then orbiting around the moon.”

“As we know, suffering seems to be of no consequence to those who live like the Earth kings of old.” Zurroc’s tone condemns.

“Yeah, let them eat cake,” I mutter.




Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire

June 5, 2013

Tigress Shapeshifter ~ How to protect yourself with scissors, the advanced course. by Savanna Kougar


I’m advocating National Hug a Tiger Day.
Wednesday kisses, shapeshifter lovers.

June is here… it’s mid year… wow! It doesn’t seem possible.

Okay, I’ve run out of writing juice, and I need to get some sleep. Since I’m not even close to finishing this flash scene, or what I had in mind… yes, I plan to continue next week.

Warning: violence ahead.

Tigress Shapeshifter ~ How to protect yourself with scissors, the advanced course.

I know they come.

My blood sings with it, fire and fierceness — a fury waiting to be unleashed.

We have been discovered. This is one of several reasons why Zurroc and I must leave New York City — leave the enormous, ‘dilapidated on the outside’ warehouse that has been my home since arriving on Earth, some four spins of the sun ago.

The generous-sized moving truck we rented, as if we are mere humans changing location, is packed, yet cloaked. Zurroc keeps watch, though. At the helm of my invisible jet, atop the truck, he trains the beam gun on the twelve ninjas stealthily advancing — flitting like shadows toward me.

I know. We are telepathically linked, my black tiger man and me.

Their faint-smoke stench reaches my nostrils, warning me as they scale the outside of my warehouse. I don’t hear them. They’re good, these ninjas from the dark putrid bowels of the global serpent cabal.

They don’t know I have barricaded every entrance with steel bars, simply to hinder their ability to silently enter. Yes, to give me the battle edge.

There’s something else I doubt they know. I am loaded for ninja with my collection of thrown-out barber scissors. I found them during one of my nightly prowls as full tigress. Amazing how muggers turn tail and run when I flash my pearly-white fangs, then begin to crouch.

Oh, yeah… gun grabbers, this is for you. How to protect yourself with scissors, the advanced course.

First, create a hip belt with four scissor holsters, two on your hips, one in front and one in back. Slide another slim pair in a holder between your shoulder blades. Then, strap a couple of those sharp silver babies to the outside of your thighs.

Got boots? Got room for those double-blade daggers on the inside and the outside? Remember, of course, this easy slip and slide rule — because the easier those tempered steel killers glide in, the easier they’ll come whipping out when defending yourself.

Next, consider the area where you’ll be confronting unwanted intruders. Strategically place your scissors for easy access and in clever unexpected positions — say beneath a toaster, taped to the back of every door.

Think it through, and practice, practice, practice reaching for your scissors until, as the saying goes, you can find them in your sleep. Of course, this scissor-defense method assumes you have some degree of training in martial arts techniques.

Also, if you await ninja warriors as I do, keep scissors in hand gunslinger style. Aim those deadly points, and throw at will.

Now, the first ninja breaches the roof hatch of what will be my former home. He’s dislodged the steel bars using his supernatural ability to manipulate matter into a lesser density.

He drops straight toward me… as I planned. I step and whirl. As I rotate toward him, he’s landed without a sound. I sling my sharp-pointed scissors. He shoots his palm forward, ready to blast me with his deadly force.

The point strikes his third eye, and my scissors embed themselves. Before he can pull them out, I spin driving the other pair through a tender patch of flesh, inside his upper throat.

Not waiting for him to fall, I bend avoiding a brutal kick to the base of my skull. Seizing the scissors that have been strapped to my thighs, I whip around plunging one pair into  my enemy’s solar plexus.

As he staggers back, I whirl a half turn hurling the other pair of my barber scissors. True as one of William Tell’s arrows the blades pierce his eye, the tip buried in his brain.

Immediately I dive into a roll while quick-drawing the scissors in my front holster. Three of the ninjas fire, the energy pulses exploding all around me, deflected by the force field I have created.

Coming out of the roll, I see one of them charge. I stay on my back, aim, and with a quick flick of my wrist send the scissors flying. It’s not Cupid’s arrow piercing his heart.

Mid-motion, the ninja stops. Before he drops to the floor, I slide another pair of scissors out of my boot, twist, and jerk the covering away from another foe’s throat — the one almost on top of me.

I plunge the double blades into his voice box like a dagger. Keeping hold of the scissor handles, I swing his body above me slamming it full-force against number seven ninja.

Rapidly, I roll to the side like a log rolling downhill. At the same time, I whip out one pair of my side-holstered scissors. Number eight ninja is about to pounce. I stab his foot, penetrating the flesh close to his big toe.

He’s effectively nailed to the wood floor, even though his body has been altered to both smoke and physical substance.

With his death blow stopped, number eight hesitates for seconds. I draw my other pair of sidearm scissors, and as he awkwardly attacks, I leap upward. A swift thrust, and the scissors slide into his temple. Like butter.

The combined force of the remaining five ninjas challenge my force field. Pain lashes my back like a cat o’ nine tails.

Feeling another blast on the way, meant to take me down, destroy me, I bend forward fast.  Super-speed, I grip another one of those silver gleaming babies.

After I slip it out of my boot, I look between my braced legs. Huntress sighting my prey, I hurl my choice of weapon. On target, straight to the heart, the scissors are buried to the hilt.

The four ninjas who have avoided my weaponized scissors surround me. Like panthers, they circle, stalking…



Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance 

Originally posted at SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS ~ Turning Into Your Wildest Desire

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