**                Cat Scrap Fever             **
**             by Sam A. J. Halsall           **

Disclaimer: All prominent characters in this work are the
property of Kenichi Sonada (with the exception of Brian Kidman
and Jennifer Sytch).  This is a work of fan-fiction, written for
entertainment rather than profit, and is not meant to infringe
upon Mr. Sonada's intellectual rights.

Warning: This is a lemon story, and therefore contains elements
intended for an adult audience only.  If you are under the age
of majority in your place of residence, read no further.

Production notes: This story takes place sometime after the OAV
anime series.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   * * * * SUNSET BAR AND LOUNGE, CHICAGO, IL * * * *
   * * * * BEGIN TRANSCRIPT * * * *

WAITRESS: Another beer for the gentleman, and a Dolphin Dream
for the lady.

PROSTITUTE: Merci beaucoup.

BRIAN KIDMAN: Yeah, thanks babe.  So where was I?

PROSTITUTE: You were going to tell me what happened to you
earlier this evening.

KIDMAN: Right.  Well, let's start at the start.  The boss calls
me into her office this morning and says she's got a job for me.
Okay, I'm a bit short on cash, so I say, "Sure." And she hands
me these pictures, two of 'em.  Both chicks.  The first one's
real dark, not like a black bitch, more like some kinda... shit,
I dunno what, but she's dark.  And hot.  I mean, killer bod.
But that hair!  Jesus, it's like a Marilyn Quayle, Mary Tyler
Moore thing, except it's pointing forwards, like this.

And the second one, I swear to God, it's a 12-year-old girl!  I
ask Jenny--

PROSTITUTE: Jenny?

KIDMAN: Jenny Sytch, my boss.  I ask her how come she wants me
to whack a little kid.  And she says, "That girl's nineteen."
I'm thinkin', bullshit.  But she hands me a file with all the
stuff on the two bitches, and sure enough the blonde's nineteen!
Which is good, 'cause I'm not a monster, y'know?

PROSTITUTE: 'Course.

KIDMAN: Right.  So tonight I go over to their place, which is
this gun shop.  Seriously, they live in a fucking gun shop!  And
the place has security shit all over it.  Which, luckily, is
something I'm good at, best in the fucking State.  I'm in the
place in, like, 10 minutes.  I check their bedrooms, no sign.  I
check the kitchen, no sign.  And I'm about to leave, when I hear
voices downstairs.  I creep down the stairs, stepping over this
tripwire thing -- these chicks are paranoid, I shit you not --
and I peek around the edge of the doorway.

The whole place is a firing range!  They've got a fucking firing
range in the basement!  I'm starting to think, it's a god damn
shame I've gotta kill these two, 'cause they're my kinda babes!

The two of 'em are standing in the middle of the floor, getting
right in each other's faces.  I know their names by now, 'cause
I read the files Jenny gave me.  The tall one, Rally, is yelling
about some guy named Ken.  And the blonde, May, is yelling right
back.  Rally's wearing a track suit, and May's got on a sport
bra and the skimpiest panties I've ever seen in my life!
They're like a spider web.

Okay, thing is, Jenny wants to watch them die.  So I get out my
camcorder -- little Japanese job, fits in the palm of your hand
-- and I set it up on a little table next to the doorway.  And
when I put it down on the table, it makes this "bump" sound.  I
think, shit, busted.  But they're still yelling at each other,
and they don't even know I'm there.

Camera's rolling, I figure now's the time, 'cause they're close
together and distracted.  Thing you gotta understand is, I'm not
really a killer.  Jenny only picked me for the job 'cause the
place was booby trapped up the ass.  I've never killed anyone.
But I need the cash and I've got my orders.  So I take out my
micro-Uzi and get ready to spray lead.

And then, while I'm trying to work up the nerve to shoot, May
calls Rally a frigid cunt.  And Rally says, "That's it you
little bitch!" She grabs May around the shoulders, drops into a
crouch, puts May over her knees, and starts spanking her!

All I can do is stare.  I mean, wow!  This is shit you read
about in letters that start out "Dear Penthouse Forum".  May's
yelling and swearing at Rally, and Rally's hand just keeps
coming down on that sweet little ass.  SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK!
And those panties can't be a lot of protection, but Rally
suddenly pulls them down anyway and keeps going.  Jesus, the
handprints she's leaving on May's ass are so fucking red they're
glowing like a drunk's nose.  And I figure, well let's just see
where this goes.  Lots of time to shoot them later.  So I put
the gun back in my waistband.  The way the place is set up,
there's this little hidey-hole kinda nook over to one side
between the stairs and the door, so I duck over there and keep
peering around the doorframe.

Suddenly, May rolls off Rally's knees, like she's out cold or
something, and I'm thinking she shouldn't be hurt that bad just
from a spanking.  Sure enough, Rally starts looking all worried,
like Oh-God-what-have-I-done.  And May, out of the fucking blue,
jumps back at Rally like a goddam bullet, knocks her on her ass,
and pulls the sweatshirt up over her head like you would in a
hockey fight.

PROSTITUTE: I don't watch hockey.

KIDMAN: But you know what I mean.

PROSTITUTE: Mmm-hmm.

KIDMAN: So May's panties are around her ankles, and she pulls
them off in one motion, like she's practiced doing it.  Which
makes sense, 'cause the file said she used to work in a
whorehouse.  And my jaw's on the floor, 'cause for an instant I
get a perfect view of this unbelievably gorgeous pussy.  Then
she kneels on Rally's arms, pinning them totally, and rips open
her bra.  Rally's bra, I mean.  Nice tits.  Not huge, but big
enough, and her brown nipples are standing straight up like it's
cold or something.

And May just goes to work on them.  I mean, she grabs one nipple
in each hand, and just starts yanking and twisting.  Rally's
struggling and yelling, but she can't get away 'cause she's
still got that sweater covering her face and holding her arms in
place.  May pulls one nipple out, Christ, must've been three
inches or so, and Rally's just screaming.

PROSTITUTE: Ow!

KIDMAN: Yeah, I hear ya.  So anyhow, May's twisting and pulling
and yanking.  And here's yours truly startin' to notice a
serious bulge in the bluejeans.  Which is about when I realize I
can hear what sounds like muffled crying.  And I realize it's
Rally.  I figure, bullshit, this broad's faced down the best
this country and two others could throw at her, she's not crying
over this shit.  But May gets all tender-eyed, and she climbs
off Rally's arms, but Rally doesn't move.  So May pulls the
sweatshirt back down sorta slowly, but she's almost shaking like
she's ready to fight or run like hell.

And anyway, she pulls the shirt off Rally's face, and Rally
looks like she's choking back the tears.  And she says, "I'm
sorry, May, I was just worried about you."

And May says, "I know, Rally.  I shouldn't've gone nuts on you."
She looks at Rally's tits, which are bright red by this point,
and she climbs on top of Rally like she's gonna fuck her or
something.  And she brings her mouth down and starts sucking
real gently on Rally's nips.  I can see this tiny little tongue
slurping away and Rally starts like she's in pain, but she
relaxes right quick and starts moaning.  And she reaches down
and slips her hand between May's thighs and I can just see her
fingers moving.  Suddenly, Rally's not the only one moaning.

PROSTITUTE: Mmm.

KIDMAN: Well shit, imagine how I felt!  Especially when May
whips off Rally's pants and starts returning the favor!  By this
point, I got my zipper down and my schlong in one hand, and I'm
maybe a couple minutes from blasting all over the wall.

Which is when I hear the door open at the top of the stairs, and
footsteps coming down them.  And I realize, whoever that is,
they're gonna notice a six-foot man standing off to one side at
the bottom of the stairs.  I pick up the gun, ready to blast the
motherfucker the minute I see the whites of his eyes.

Then I hear the footsteps stop just about two steps before I'd
be seeing this person.  And this chick's voice says, kinda
quiet, "Rally?  May?" About two seconds of silence.  "Holy
shit!"

And she walks right past me, her eyes never leaving the doorway,
or rather, what's inside.  Nice looking chick, reddish hair,
glasses, cute in a schoolgirl kinda way.  Doesn't even come
close to seeing me.  Big guy standing there three feet away with
his dick pointing right at her, she misses me completely.  She
goes into the shooting range, and I can hear her voice saying,
"Care to explain this one, girls?"

Before I ever realize what the fuck I'm doing, I'm peeking
around the doorframe to see this.  Dumbest thing I could've
possibly done, but my little head must've been doing the
thinking by now.  Thank God, the new girl's about halfway
between me and the other two bitches, and she's sorta off to the
side, and Rally and May are looking right at her.  And I have to
admit, this is not something you'd expect to see if you came
into a gun shop -- two fine young babes with their fingers in
each other's fur -- and they must realize that.

Rally tries to explain, but good luck on that one.  "Um, jeez
Becky, we were kinda, uh..." No idea who the fuck Becky is,
never heard the name before, never seen the bitch before, name
wasn't in the files.  Probably a friend or something.

Anyhow, Becky says, "You weren't seriously going to have a party
without me, were you?" And she drops her purse, strips away her
shirt and skirt, and stands there butt naked like she's just
daring them to do something about it.

PROSTITUTE: Holy shit!

KIDMAN: Totally, I figured Rod Serling was gonna show up any
second.  Either him or John Holmes.

So this Becky chick gets down on the floor with the other two.
They're lying almost on top of each other, and Becky spreads
both their legs and says, "Now where were we?"

Rally and May start rubbing each other's pussies again, and
Becky's staring like she's never seen a pussy before in her
life, like she's got her own little peep-show happening.  Which
she pretty much does, come to think of it.  Every so often, she
flicks her tongue over one of them.

By now, I figure they're not gonna notice me for anything, so I
pick the camera up in my free hand and zoom in on the good stuff
with it.  I've got a perfect view of Becky's tongue, right up
close and filling the whole screen, as it slides over May's
clit.

With no warning at all, Rally shifts position, so now they're
forming a daisy chain kinda thing.  Rally's got her face buried
in May's muff, May's licking Becky, and Becky's doing Rally.  In
fact, she grabs her purse off the floor, roots around in it for
a second, and comes out with this little vibrator about the size
of a pickle, which she puts up Rally's ass and turns it on.
Rally starts squirming like she's sitting on one of those
massage chairs, and I can hear her gasping into May's pussy.
May puts four fingers up Becky's cunt and jams them in and out
like a fucking sewing machine.

Becky suddenly shouts out, "Oh God!  I'm coming!" and starts
shaking.  And I realize I am too!  I can feel the pressure
building up and I'm not even looking through the camera anymore,
I'm just trusting the auto-stable-thingy to do its job.  And my
last thought is, "I'm gonna make a fortune selling this tape on
the internet." Then I hold my breath and blast cum all over the
wall and the floor.

I stand there for a minute or so getting my breathing back under
control.  Then I put my cock away and zip up.  I remember why
I'm there in the first place, and I figure I'll wait until the
bitches are done, then I'll waste them.

PROSTITUTE: Wow, you're a stone cold killer.

KIDMAN: Hey, I already said I wasn't.  But I knew what Jenny'd
do to me if I didn't do what I came there for.

Anyway, I'm running the camera manually again.  I'm watching
Rally pulling May's pubic hair with her teeth, when from out of
the clear fucking blue, there's this beep like the alarm on
someone's watch.  And all three of the chicks jerk their heads
up at the same time and look right at me.  And I realize it's
the fucking camera!  The battery's low, and the camera's beeping
to tell me!  Every other video camera in the world, you just get
a little graphic to let you know, but no, I get the one that
fucking beeps!

The other thing I realize at precisely that moment is that my
gun's not in my pants anymore.  I can only figure, looking back,
that it fell out of my waistband when I unzipped my fly, landed
on the carpet, and bounced into the shadows somewhere.

So all three of them jump to their feet, and bolt for the gun
benches, where I can see these assault rifles resting like they
got fired recently and left there.  I decide it's a good time to
get the fuck out, so I turn around and go flying up the stairs.

Of course, I forget about the goddam trip wire.  I just hear
this TWANG! and see, like, a dozen grenades come pouring down
from the ceiling.  I don't even stop, just keep right on going.
The last thing I see, as I glance over my shoulder, is the three
naked bitches looking up at the grenades rolling down the
stairs.  Then I'm through the door and I slam it shut behind me.
I dive through the window and start running.

When I get about 20 yards away, there's a huge fucking
explosion, like God stomping on an ant or something, and every
window in the house blows out.  I hear this whizzing noise
around me, which I realize is shrapnel from the grenades that
blew through the wall.  Suddenly, I feel this ripping, burning
feeling in my right shoulder.  I don't even bother to look until
I'm back at my hotel room.  Turns out one of the fragments
grazed me right by the collarbone.  Nothing broken, but I was
losing a lot of blood.  So I patched it up.

And that, baby, answers your question about the bandage.

PROSTITUTE: Wow, you're brave!

KIDMAN: Sure, that's why I ran like a bitch.  But hell, at least
the tape survived.

PROSTITUTE: Y'know, I'd kinda like to see it.

KIDMAN: So come on over to the hotel with me.

PROSTITUTE: Mmm, well I'm actually finished for the night.  But
how 'bout this -- give me your room number, and I'll come by
tomorrow afternoon.  Hey, if the tape gets me in the mood, you
might get a free sample of stuff other guys gotta pay $300
for...

KIDMAN: Cool.  I'm in room 412 of the Rest-E-Z Motor Lodge.  I
should be there all day, 'cuz Jenny won't look for me there.

PROSTITUTE: It's a date.  I'll see you tomorrow.

* * * * END TRANSCRIPT * * * *

Becky Farah leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes with
clenched fists.  She'd been typing for over an hour, just
because Rally wanted this shit on paper.

She couldn't help smiling in spite of her fatigue.  The hooker
costume never failed.  After the clown with the camera had blown
up Rally's stairway, May had come up with the idea of checking
out the local bars for the guy.  After all, alcohol would
probably be priority one for such a beast after nearly getting
blown up.

And Becky had been the one to find him.  It was always so
simple: get a few drinks in a man and give him vague suggestions
of sex, and he'd tell you anything.  In this case, he'd told
Becky who he worked for and where to find him.  By this time
tomorrow, Becky would know where to find Jennifer Sytch, wanted
in 17 states.  And Rally would pay a fortune for that little
tidbit.

Of course, Becky thought, her hand sliding into her waistband
before she even realized it was there, she might not ask for
money this time.  Not when there were nicer methods of payment
available...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes: I figured I'd try something a bit different from my last
two woe-is-me efforts.  (Thanks to all who wrote -- to those who
haven't, check out Christmas at Ground Zero and Family Stone,
both on the Sakura Lemon Archive, then send comments to
AlmightyV@HotMail.COM.)

I have no idea if there's such a drink as a Dolphin Dream.  I
just happened to be listening to Enigma at the time.  Likewise,
I seem to have named all the non-Gunsmith-Cats characters after
professional wrestlers.  I think RAW was on TV.  Someday I'll
have to try writing while listening to Bill Hicks -- God knows
what'll end up in the story!

Does anyone know of any other Gunsmith Cats lemon stories?  I've
never seen one, which seems odd to me, 'cuz it's about the most
highly-sexed manga outside of honest-to-God hentai.  Also, I've
seen maybe half a dozen GC h-pics on the web.  Go figure.

Brian Kidman and Jennifer Sytch are original characters of my
own creation.  Do whatever the hell you want with them, as long
as it's not commercial.