1.
The shadowy figure hid in an abandoned husk of a burnt-out school bus, Remington M40 sniper rifle equipped and brandished, taking discreet aim through an infrared scope at the young vixen-girl as she passed by the desolate remains of Jacky-Boy's Junk Jamboree on his mother's prized motorcycle. In his mind played a vast assortment of scenarios, what-ifs and horrible suggested presumptions: maybe she'd already killed the notorious Sin-Wolf and stolen her ride to arrive early at the meeting point. No, perhaps she hijacked the vehicle, and the blue-haired wolf-woman was closing in already hot on her bushy tail, ready to gun her down in a bloody act of aggressive revenge for her thievery. Or maybe the pipsqueak had already met up with Aveline, bartered a deal and had been sent to do a little bit of mommy's dirty work. That was the likeliest possibility, despite all odds acting out against her favor. A swift act of spousal vengeance, delivered with Sig Sauer rounds pumped into a certain shep-coon's chest and skull, putting a messy end to a corrupted family dynasty, all over a quick investment.

Jered Monique Blackburnadeaux-Anchester, son of Maxwell and Aveline, fathered by the shep-coon bounty hunter assassin, conceived by the infamous wolfdog renegade and raised by the feared notorious Sin-Wolf herself, snickered while he peered through his weapon's scope at the lone assailant, a vixen girl with goggles strapped across her brow, donning tarnished wanderer's clothes in the form of denim jeans torn at the knees and a dirty grey halter-top with a red scarf wrapped around her neck. He silently contemplated whether or not he should at least fire a warning shot to puncture a tire and send Kassidy, born in Spain and renowned for her elusive yet lethal nature, sprawling into a Joshua tree in the desert tundra which she now sped through with persistent haste, crouched down over the motorbike's large chrome handlebars. He didn't want to lay waste to such a visually enticing young anthro girl, one with potential bodacious sexual deviancy afoot, but that's exactly how Jered felt after snuffing out the last three groups of furry survivors he'd come across, all desperate for lust and gluttonous for whatever he'd been carrying in his possession. Food, ammunition, technology; anything of solid value. Jered had learned through the hardest way possible that absolutely nobody could be trusted, especially not in this particular day and age. No way would he be held up at knife-point again for just a few fifty-caliber round magazines.  He jerked his foot to stifle an itch and heard a small pouch of bottle caps jangle in a pouch he'd placed in a mound of sand, nestled beneath his robust canine-paws for leverage, to support his aching sun-dried foot-paws while he established a suitable sniper's nest. He also made sure that he was in a strong reinforced reception area.

A bulky CB radio attached to his knapsack squelched into life. Right on time, he thought to himself. Through the burst transmission, he could hear his wolfdog mother's silky velvet-strewn voice calling out to him, requesting his immediate response. Jered pushed down on a chipped call-receive button attached to a grimy headset strapped against his chest, sewn into his skin, fur shaven away years ago by his stepfather for good measure. The device was in turn connected to a long thick curly wire wrapped around his bulky shepherd-guy's shoulder, leading to a transistor radio he'd revitalized with careful tinkering and technical know-how adhered from Maxwell Blackburnadeaux, his father, pseudo-teacher of killing, dismembering and reassurance in loving his mother.
He had also become Jered's prominent nemesis over time.

The offspring of bounty-hunter hybrid canines adjusted a dial to fix the gain and pitch levels, finding a reasonable volume level so as not to become a warning siren, a lit beacon raised above the sand-blasted horizon, a visible distraction by way of a glinting scope lens. He didn't want the vixen girl to see any type of activity from Jacky-Boy's old scrapyard and come investigate the scene, gun in hand and twinkle of death in her eyes, shielded from her large steampunk-laden goggles, ready and fully prepared for an impending onslaught.

But she kept on riding hard, heading towards the Anthro Guild Hospital - exactly as planned. Jered breathed in a deep sigh of relief and held his snout steady, bending the proboscis-shaped receiver piece to his lips. He coughed out a plume of debris settled upon his chapped canine tongue and sneered, teeth smothered with dust and sandy grime.

"Mom, I'm onto her. She's heading towards the site right now." Jered whispered in a low croupy voice, a near-growl. "Over."

"Good work, darling... and how are you? Staying hydrated, I hope? Over." 

Jered looked down at over a dozen sucked-dry pouches of Nuka-Cola-enhanced fruit juice, lying in a withered sun-bleached pile beside him. He sighed and creaked his neck, curling his eyebrows with reassurance, hoping not to worry his wolfdog mother too heavily. The bland taste of heavily caffeinated grape and fruit punch still lingered at the root of his tongue, leaving a nasty aftertaste to compensate for parched sun-dried halitosis. He only hoped his piss wouldn't glow later on into that evening, just like how it did after his first-time exposure to the elusive Quantum brand, which tasted like death incarnate. It was no wonder that so very few got sold. He recalled meeting a strange dwarf-sized anthro pug who'd obsessed over the nasty shit in one of many towns he'd scavenged.

"As well as I can, in any case. Should I fire a round into her neck, maybe aim for one of her legs? Just to put her to the goddam test? Over."

"No! Absolutely no killing the informant, remember? Hon, she'll lead us straight to the dread-headed bastard himself. We can't afford to hurt her until then! Not 'til she brings us to our most prized bounty. No. For now, I do NOT want a damn fur on her pretty little hide to be touched, let alone damaged in any way imaginable." A sigh emanated from the speaker. "Do you understand, young pup? Over."

Jered grunted and snarled with irritation. He hated being called young pup, an old nickname his shepcoon father gave him long before the backstabbing son-of-a-bitch left him behind, abandoned his own wolfdog-shepcoon hybrid son and precious wolf-woman mother to fend for themselves in the midst of the apocalypse's arrival. Jered also hated that stupid fucking name since it was the very same nickname his pseudo-adopted stepfather, Dorian Valentine, had grown accustomed to calling him over time. Was it to spite the young anthro, for his bare-boned resemblance to his cowardly prick of a father? Maybe that was just the nature of the scar-faced white-furred husky himself, handed down throughout many generations of abusive fathers and uncles. Jered scoffed aloud.

"Yes, mom. I get it. She'll stay alive... for now." He said with bitter contempt, trying to stifle any abhorrent rage. "Uh, mom... so when the time comes, can I... y'know..."

A low chuckle seeped from the tinny, hollow-toned speaker. A familiar sarcastic witty giggle belonging to his mom, no doubt. He remembered how she'd chortle like that while being heavily flirted upon by Dorian, how she'd woo him into her bedroom as she stripped herself clean of her skimpy black leather attire, licking her lips with crude insistence and firmly groping at his bulging pants. Jered recalled being alone in pajamas, huddled in the dark and kept up late at night while he heard his mother and the one who wasn't his father wrestle and fight and yell for hours. Oh, how they moaned and shrieked and screamed, how she hollered out his name in the dark and he growled and laughed and swore so often, so many vulgar profanities, swallow my dick so fucking deep this and gonna fuck your whore ass until you faint that, how they'd knock over furniture in her room and make her bed spring topple free from its frame on a regular basis, how Jered's own father constantly called her up on a landline phone and sent frequent text messages to her cellular phone, yet to no avail, for his determination was always met with rudimentary excuses, prominent lies, resplendent and thick with contempt for the shep-coon and all he stood for. Jered never truly understood the tenacity of her actions until he had grown older. Later into his teenage years, Jered once caught an impromptu accidental glimpse of his mother with her legs spread, nude and wheezing, grinding against Dorian, his stepfather, as the over-buff muscular husky anthro rammed himself violently against her body, squeezing her pierced breast with aggressive candor, gnawing at her neck and breathing heavily through his nostrils, drawing blood that he seemed to be licking clean from her white-furred neck. Jered recalled seeing a filmy white spunk, like yogurt or lightly grilled egg whites, leaking freely from between her legs after they'd both nearly choked each other out. This sight both disturbed and fascinated him for years, though he never had the courage or the heart to confront his mother to ask about what he'd seen, which had been the indispensable violent lovemaking of two jilted lovers behind his father's blissfully unaware shepcoon back.

Jered suddenly realized that he missed his own father. If he could take everything back, he would've tried to murder Dorian instead of inheriting the large burdensome beast as a stalwart father-figure for so many years, convinced that Maxwell was always a rat bastard coward for leaving his mother the way he did - or so he was always told. Yet deep down in his heart, Jered always had an instinctual notion, a gut intuition, that it was his own mom who'd decided to call the whole engagement off. Jered had preconceived notions that it was his mother, through the guise and influence of the robust husky Navy-dog who fucked her stupid behind closed doors and gagged her with his knotted dick regularly for years, training her to be his good little bitch, who was responsible for the arduous mess of things that had been made between their proud and substantial family - and his father had merely been a victim of corruptible circumstance, that he'd been had, lied to, rejected and utterly betrayed and fucked over more than once by his mother, a true narcissist of a corrupt wolf-bitch.

Jered brushed his personal thoughts aside, distracting as they always proved to be. By then he realized that Kass had already parked in front of the large white rectangular concrete building and was walking in slowly, goggles strapped snug over her muzzle, tail swaying behind her back, treading lightly through a dust-cloud, stung by grit and debris swirling with aggressive intensity. He peered through the rifle's infrared scope, trying to catch sight of her a little closer, but the dire winds of sedimentary earth and her distance proved to be a formidable opponent against the range of his complex sniping technology. 

Jered snarled and lowered his massive weapon, blinking from lack of sleep. He pressed the call button, nearly breaking it under his pressure-heavy grip.

"Uhm. Mother, you never answered my question." He said, depressing the button.

"Jered, you never asked me anything. And honey, remember what we'd discussed about saying 'over' with each broadcast? Over." Sin-wolf said with a hint of snarky impatience in her tone.

He scoffed and shook his head, closing his eyes, diminishing their yellow glow with his fur-tinted eyelids. No, he never had, for he'd been too busy thinking about how often his stepfather had turned his mother into a lurid intercourse-craving knot-junkie at the behest of demeaning his father's trust and consideration. He'd been too involved in wondering just what the fuck his mom thought she was doing, screwing around behind his dad's back all the fucking time. Jered had grown incredibly despondent of Dorian over the years, enough to engage in a head-on fistfight if things didn't quickly come to fruition and certain obligatory explanations were given in a timely and fashionable manner. Jered had endured many daydreams of beating Dorian to death with his bare knuckled fists, paws smothered in his stepfather's blood, a tooth or two chipped off and punctured into his callused skin.

"I want to know if I can... uh... kill her... when the time is right? O-over." Jered shivered, feeling nervous gooseflesh creep up his arms, flooding his back in wavelengths of frayed nerves. He felt a weird sense of longing for his dad, yet also savored the idea of appeasing his mother from performing to the very best of his trained abilities.

"My son, you can fuck her for all I care. Just as long as you put the shep-coon down for the both of us, anything goes. Make me proud. I'll see you shortly, love. Over?"

Jered sighed. Finally, a reasonable response from his uptight wolfdog mom. He grew stiff over the mere thought of such an act, imagining how amazing it'd be to rape the vixen-girl in front of his one-eyed shepcoon dad, just before putting a bullet through both their brains in the name of love and happiness, embracing his mother in a tender loving hug, sharing a special moment together.

"I won't let you down, mommy. I love you. Over." Jered felt a tiny tear welting up in one corner of his eyelid, drying and evaporating from the heat alone. Soon the entire obscure mess with his dysfunctional family would be over, wiped clean with the slate set fresh once more.

"I know, darling. Your stepdad trained you very well. You should be grateful. Mmm-hm-hm! Over."

Dorian's sneering bitter mommy-fucking face seeped into Jered's memory and he brushed the thought away. "Neither of them will see what hit 'em. Dad, especially. Over and out." Jered muttered, biting back his words with scathing foul reluctance, not wishing for such a bounty but not hoping to deter his mother's faith and reassurance in his abilities to track down their most profitable enemy - and the anthro who had abandoned him in a time of substantial need.

Jered sighed, thinking about Dorian's albino-white fur, his yellow eyes, his gangly posture, his unearthly strength and the unsightly scars that covered one of his eye sockets. He thought about how he'd get slapped across his muzzle by the sonofabitch if he acted out of line and how he'd receive a rub on his ear from the same individual when he acted good and obedient. Jered loathed his stepfather, though he'd never admit his truest feelings to his mother, for fear that she'd disown him and let the young lad go live with his own shep-coon father instead. Dorian was always a dickless fucker, rude and despondent, with his ugly facial scars and his uglier impertinence, though his physical deformities were nowhere near as grisly as the burn scars that adorned Maxwell's entire left side of his own body. Jered found those deformities to be especially gruesome. He'd had nightmares as a cub-child, some which awoke him in a haze of panic.

Aveline told Jered on numerous occasions throughout his upbringing that his shep-coon father received those scars from a home incident as a child. She lied to him, casually explaining how Jered's grandfather Harper accidentally spilling scalding hot coffee on his shepcoon dad as a young pup, thus resulting in those unsightly burn scars and his heavily-tainted fur.
Jered knew better, and he always suspected so until that fateful evening.
The young hybrid offspring heard all about the abandoned lumber mill explosion incident involving his family from Maxwell's ex-touring manager Gus over a night of drunken tomfoolery. Jered would never forget that story, never forget all about how Maxwell's old boss and former partner-in-crime, a short Italian human named Antonio Sciorrenzo, had rigged one of his father's meth-cooking labs to blow up in an attempt to silence the shep-coon, then had later been gunned down by Maxwell himself in New Orleans as an act of revenge, yet somehow managed to survive and plan another get-together with a large ensemble of drug barons spanning the entire Pacific Northwest regions of Ex-America, long before the late great US of A was ripped to shreds by war and genocide and nuclear threats. Jered never forgot, even as a young and uninitiated cub, how Gus Stevenson had teared up and shivered with fright, recounting what Maxwell had told him, how he'd saved Jered's precious blue-haired assassin mother, Aveline Anchester, the Sin-wolf, from those greedy bastard humans, and how his own parents had met under the most lethal and unlikeliest situation imaginable. How they'd mated with intense vigor in a back-alley and conceived their very own delightful baby boy-cub, despite her repetitive temptations and desires adhered from mating with multiple partners, oftentimes in sheer benign silence, always behind her ex-lover's back. Thank goodness they'd never married.

History repeats itself, thought Jered, as he broke down his oversized sniping weapon to be stored securely in its containment case, buried in the sand along with his bottle cap collection for protective purposes, preparing to move onto the site of the arranged meeting, to keep himself present and accounted for, ready to terminate his daddy with extreme prejudice by any means necessary. And maybe, just maybe, to plant a bullet or half a dozen into the vixen-girl's face right at the verge of sharing a mutual orgasm with her, to see how hard her cunt could twitch and tremble from the midst of dying violently while getting knotted and raped by Jered, courtesy of the craziest and most deadliest female lone wolfdog assassin in all of war-ravaged Ex-America.

2.
Kassidy screamed when she came yet again on Maxwell's muzzle, covering her mouth with her hand-paw and wincing from the ticklish sensations of his tongue slathering against the ridge of her taint, teasing her tailhole with small bristly fur follicles upon his chin. She propped herself up against the shep-coon's shoulders with her turquoise blue foot-paws nudged into the crooks of his shoulder blades, reaching down to spread her pussy lips wide, exposing turquoise blue feminine fleshy labia folds, massaging her moistened vulva and squeezing at her small extended clit. Max had the upper-hand, scarfing away at Kass, licking and sucking and nibbling at her vagina with hungry intensity, softly murr-chirring as he bit down softly upon her clitoris and violated her clenching vaginal muscles by spelling out his name in cursive repeatedly against her voluptuous lewd groin surfaces with his sandy-smooth, warm shep-coon tongue, dampening her significantly, causing fervent moisture to seep freely down his chin and leak along his chest and stain his jeans, which were barely on now, thanks to his raging knotted erection threatening to poke a gigantic cum-drenched hole through the denim fabric's surface. They were both bedazzled and smothered in pleasurable tendencies of a sexual longing, he in his cunnilingus and her in the mind-numbing thickness of raw erotic wanton desire.

"Santa mierda, mierda, no dejes de lamerme... mmm mierda, más profundo... haz que me corra otra vez..." Kass murmured between girlish squeaks and whimpering moans. Maxwell chuckled low and curled his eyebrows while looking up at her twitching body, her spastic jerking movements, her shifting facial expressions, heat simmers raising from her whiskers with a blush nearly apt to burn through her cheek-fur tufts. Kass was loving every second of his animalistic cunnilingus and he was beyond excited and desperately anxious to show her what his saliva-slickened knotted dick was capable of doing to her, way more than his tongue alone could ever hope to achieve. The thought alone forced Maxwell to leak a tiny rope of pre-cum onto his boxer-briefs, barely able to maintain holding his junk intact. Kass gasped and licked her teeth, biting down on her lower lip, arching her back and pressing her pussy hard against Maxwell's snout, lightly humping against his muzzle. "¡Follame con tu lengua, bastardo!"

Max pulled his tongue out of her vagina, hearing a tiny audible pop, practically sucked inward like a tiny vacuum operating at full-velocity. He licked his lips clean of her feminine spunk and finger-fucked her drooled-on sex with wild intensity, putting his bass-strumming finger-paws to good hard use and stroking himself off with rapid intense haste, gripping his penis with his other free hand-paw, maintaining her balance upon his shoulders, ensuring she didn't fall off his neck and plop to the floor.

"I understood the 'bastardo' part, you naughty girl... you are very impatient, aren't you?" Max said low and soft, grinning deviously while massaging the muscular surface of her inner thigh with his cum-slickened thumb-paw, letting his dog-dick hang loose, finger-paws soaked with Kass's feminine spunk. She reached down to clench hold of his dreadlocked head and shove his muzzle back against her groin, begging him to continue until she came over and over again. She wanted to squirt as hard as possible for him, having been deprived of oral pleasure for many years. Maxwell wrapped his lips back around her mons and plunged his tongue much deeper inside her than ever before, nearly puncturing the gelatinous surface of her cervix, sliding and lapping violently against her twat, flooding her vixen cunt with his tongue while enduring a vivid telekinetic flashback of-
-Colleene's legs spread wide, sat against the edge of the hotel's spa bench, which she had shared many long arduous nights of lovemaking with her panty-obsessed mate Sebastian upon, beckoning to Maxwell, urging him to keep at it, to never let up or quit licking her. Meanwhile, the young raccoon girl, Winie by name, sat beside them both, recording the action with a cellular device, engaged in a footpaw rub by Maxwell himself, priming her procyonid urges heavily, causing her to tremble in lust, lower lip tugged by her teeth with perplexed arousal. Max had Winie's footpaw in his grasp, rubbing at her bean-shaped toepaws while he busily lapped away at the emo goth vixen girl's vaginal folds, tasting her puckering tailhole in-between lewd fishy scrumptious hints of adolescent vixen cunt-nectar. A loud knock at the wooden door leading into the steamy sauna patio emanates. He straightens up, yanking his body free from the sudsy hot tub water, sucking down a trail of seminal fluid left behind by Colleene as he covers his groin with a towel and sits casually upon the bench, leaving the girls to tend to their own discreet privacy, to clean up Colleene's maw and for Winie to readjust herself, saving the new recording into her vast collection. Colleene and Winie trot to a small doorway leading into a nearby restroom, giggling and snickering at each other, blown away by their luck of running right into Enim-Noinu's head-honcho performer at their very same hotel. Both girls are slightly tipsy after a few rounds of cider-bombs, mixed by Colleene's boyfriend Sebastian, a panty-thieving pervert of an older fox-anthro. A night of heavy binge-drinking and partying has paid off in full, after wooing Maxwell Blackburnadeaux in between Colleene's thighs and allowing his tongue to slip right into her sweet succulent cub-loli kitty, drippy with estrus-tinged moisture and shep-coon slobber. Max adjusts his dreadlocks upon his head, flicking away a tiny follicle or two of pink pubic hairs stuck between his teeth, then welcomes in two newcomers, sisters from their identical appearance. One is a lynx girl with heterochromia and fluffy fur-tufts growing wild from her cheeks and shoulders. She has defining patches of brown fur overlapping creamy-white fur on her cleavage and inhabiting her crotch region. Her hair is long and smooth, shiny and colored with notes of red and brown. She has turquoise-blue pawpads, ear tufts and a kitten's nose. She licks her lips, tongue as blue as her paw-padded soles, and smiles lovingly at Max as she enters, towel wrapped around her neck like a scarf, wearing a skimpy two-piece striped bathing suit. She holds the large cedar door open for her partner, her sister, her cousin, her counterpart, the other girl who perplexes Max's senses immediately, nearly provoking a newfound erection to grow, double the size of which he'd been upon initially massaging Winie the raccoon masseuse in training, gently nuzzling at Colleene's vixen-girl shoulder while Max caressed the vixen-girl's smooth dampened hair, rubbing at her ears and chest. Maxwell focused his attention on the lynx-girl's friend, gazing illustriously at their matching eyebrow piercings, their similar blue-hued fleshy features, their similar bathing suit outfits... and the vixen-girl's goggles, worn around her neck like a string of pearls. Max had hoped to give her his own pearl necklace by the end of the night, one without strings attached or clasps to be fastened or hooks to be connected. Max wanted to ejaculate on them both, right then, in the very midst of their arrival, nude and fucked silly by the shepcoon rocker, as they entered the sauna with towels wrapped around their necks, illustrious fruitful curvaceous features illuminating the shep-coon's arousing demeanor. He introduced himself, holding out a hand-paw, attempting to conceal his throbbing stiffy from their eyes, hoping to save any exposure until a later time, perhaps after Winie and Colleene return back from their bathroom trip. He'd take great pride in engaging in an orgy with these beautiful young anthro girls. The lynx introduced herself to Max as Kerry. She then aimed her focused attention to her vixen cohort, who was introduced to him as-
-glass shattered and metal crunched, echoing madness, rigid and disharmonic, throughout the entire hospital facility. Kass gasped and tensed up, clenching her legs shut tightly around Maxwell's head. He yanked his nose free from the vixen-girl's pussy lips and his German shepherd ears perked up, frozen in a state of alarmed realization, breath briefly muffled by her own saliva-slickened muff. She'd been followed and that obnoxious crash was the pinnacle starting-point to a massive onslaught in the making. No way would Maxwell be hung out to dry in the sandy dunes of the Anthro Guild's expansive property lines. No way would he allow anyone with enough guts and little sense to gain the upper hand on his struggles. He aimed to put down whoever had just committed serious treason upon their own damn heads very hard and ensure the mystery assailants stayed the fuck down.
Maxwell felt a declaration of war had been issued, even with his face smothered in vixen-girl fluids.

3.
Aveline pulled up beside the edge of the large rectangular building with her partner behind the wheel, riding shotgun in the cockpit of a dune buggy armed to the teeth with weaponry that could put any military regiment to shame. Unbuckling her safety harness and crawling free from inside the thick protective roll-cage, the dreaded Sin-wolf held a hand-paw up to her bright yellow wolfdog eyes to shield her lashes from sandy follicles threatening to blow into her sockets and blind her significantly. She approached the hospital grounds and bore witness to a large shadowy figure peering into a large wide triple-paned glass window. She reared back and signaled to the driver, a grey-furred bespectacled husky anthro male with brimming blue eyes, donning a three-piece suit custom-tailored to his measurements, to drive away and maintain radio silence. 

"Are you sure, Sin?" He asked her, voice robust and audible through the windy conditions. His tone was rich with Hispanic diction.

"Absolutely, Edmond! You can't afford to be involved in this fire-fight, it's far too personal... I'll be okay, I promise! This is between me, my son," Aveline pointed at the silhouette peering into the large rectangular window, reflecting her and all the nearby surroundings outside the Anthro Guild hospital with crystal-clear clarity, "and the fucker responsible for all this horrific mess. He's inside right now! I promise you though, he won't see any of this coming! I've got a secret weapon in my boy." She smiled, teeth bared in a vicious grin, bright yellow eyes fuming with a stifling rage, aflame with determined homicidal urges aplenty. Hell hath no fury like a wolf-woman scorned and Edmond himself was bearing a real-time sight to this notion with an urgent legitimacy. He felt a resounding concern for her safety and well-being, despite her promiscuous nature and urge to flirt and fuck around with others, more often getting her and those closest to her into excessive trouble. 

"Just... call for me if you are in need of back-up, I mean it. You are-"
He meant to say 'loved and respected by me more than you can imagine', though he didn't wish to complicate his fighting daily partnership with Aveline in seeking out criminal scumbags and tracking down asshole shep-coons with a grudge to spare and the arrogance to boot. He felt closer than usual to her, though his approach was confused and stalwart, fearing only awkwardness and rejection, should he hope to act out on his deepest impulses. He'd spent far too many nights masturbating himself to sleep with amazing fantasies of her begging to be motorboated hard by him, chained up in BDSM gear and lapping away at one of his nipples, provoking him with her bountiful act of submission.
"-Y-you are still crazy to go in there alone, but I understand. Call me if you need to, I'm serious!"

Sin-wolf giggled aloud and cocked her wrist at Edmond with flirtatious strides. "You are so darling when you're concerned, y'know that?" She said with a playful grin, swooshing her hips with no shame.

Edmond the husky assassin huffed, scoffed aloud and rolled his eyes as he sped off into the distant horizon, windshield wipers on full-power, brushing off excess dirt and sandy grime obstructing his view of the desert's many rock formations and bulky vegetation. He hated being taunted by her like that.

Aveline walked with a slow, steady pace towards her son, aiming to peer into the window and see just what was holding his attention so steadily, what might have enraptured him enough to not even honor his own mother's arrival. When she reached Jered, she patted his shoulder and the young hybrid mercenary twirled around, assuming a fighting stance. She held her arms up, palms facing him. He twinkled with confusion for a brief moment and his tense, frightened expression slacked as he lowered his beefy arms and beckoned to his mother, inviting her over to peer into the window alongside him. Aveline didn't know what to expect, though she followed her son's lead with very little resistance, apt to see what he'd been spying in on. She wondered if Kass hadn't already killed the shep-coon fucker and was currently in the midst of decapitating his sorry-ass old-dog's body. She wondered if Maxwell hadn't gotten to her first and was perhaps desecrating her bullet-strewn corpse, a demented act of necrophilia which Sin-wolf wouldn't have ever put past the shepcoon fucker himself. 

When Aveline Anchester cupped her hand-paws to shield any outside sunlight and peek a glimpse into the window to observe what Jered had already been watching steadily for God-knows-how-long, her heart sank to the bottom of her belly and her mind reeled with traumatic severity.

There was no killing at all. No death, no gunfire or knife-fighting to be seen or had anywhere. 

Maxwell was eating Kassidy out like a crazed tribal shaman dipping his nose in holy water and she was loving every single moment of his ongoing advances.

The wolf-woman's rage and infuriated envy over being forgotten by both her ex-lover and the young spry vixen-girl whom she'd tasked with the objective of taking his sorry ass out with aggressive haste had ultimately reached a boiling point, one which she couldn't ever hope to harness or detract any further. She felt one of her eyelids twitch and a vein in her neck bulge. 

"How long has he been tongue-fucking that little whore?" Aveline asked her beloved child, attempting to stifle her incredulous hatred.

"Probably for about five, maybe ten minutes now. They were talking before, I thought she was gonna stab him to death with a switchblade she produced out of thin air... but he might've talked her out of it somehow. Now... well, what you see is what you get." Jered sighed, peering through the window at his father and the young vixen-girl, both engaged in heated wasteland-style cunnilingus. "Mom, I'm really sorry that you had to see-"

"I'm fucking not! Now you'll get a chance to see how a REAL wolf-bitch operates! Heads up, young pup!" Aveline shrieked aloud, startling Jered to his knees. He reeled back from the window and looked up behind his back, over his shoulder, just in time to see Sin-Wolf hoisting her very own motorcycle above her head, charging toward the window, ready to heave the cyclical vehicle through the thickened glass and storm the lobby, guns blazing in a frenzy of diabolical destruction.

"No, mom, wait! There's another way insid-"
Too late. 

4. 
Maxwell Blackburnadeaux yanked his prized .44 Magnum free from a leather harness attached to his belt-buckle, pants now pulled up and zipped tight and snug around his waist, erection quickly dissipating into a flaccid sheath-protected state. Kass reached over and grabbed for a nearby towel and wiped herself clean quickly, drying off Maxwell's saliva from her groin region. She squirmed at the frigid chill from the dampened towel, then inhaled and creaked her neck, pulled her own jeans back onto her legs, sliding her foot-paws through the tubular holes and zipping up, buttoning up and strapping up and stretched her shirt back down around her midriff to cover herself, to maintain a little self-dignity. The vixen-girl produced her switchblade once again, brandishing it alongside a carved-down Mossberg twelve-gauge shotgun she'd yanked from her knapsack, found and apprehended from a lone Super Mutant camped out in a cave during her long arduous travels and kept for only the most insane circumstances. She thrust the weapon in her grip, pumping a loaded slug round into the chamber, growling while wobbling funny from feelings of cum-drunken entropy. She was still reeling from the utmost pleasure granted forth from Maxwell's pussy-eating tactics, which made it slightly hard for her to concentrate as she readjusted her halter-top, ensuring her prized assets were covered.

Max backed up against a wall, peering carefully around a corner edge into the space where the large crashing sound had emanated. The room was far brighter now, wide open and howling from severe gusts of wind blowing into the antechamber from the shattered window. He thought about how lucky he'd been, not standing in the way of whatever the fuck crashed through, how he'd been absent from the front of the large rectangular paned-glass opening, lapping at Kerry's long-time friend and pseudo-relative instead. Not only does sex have a capacity to sell, but it also even saves lives, as he could now attest.

Maxwell stepped free from behind the wall and held his gun up, taking aim in all directions, sweeping his focus across the entire room with the expectation of firing upon an assailant or two. He saw nobody, only a motorcycle in ruined shambles, surrounded by a large puddle of glass shards, splintered and destroyed. Cloth curtains hung loose from the windowsill, blowing and swaying, threatening to be pulled free from wicked-strong currents of sand-speckled wind. Max lowered his large hand-cannon of a pistol and peered back behind his shoulder, looking at Kass. She held her shotgun up, cradled snug against her shoulder, switchblade jutting out, pointing forward in her other hand-paw. She shrugged at him while casting a querulous glance.

"¿Qué diablos ha sido eso?" Kass asked Maxwell, lust swarming freely from her stance, maintaining her solid posture while remaining vigilant and ready to strike fast. She blinked rapidly, fighting against a brief flurry of lightheadedness that threatened to render her temporarily blind-sighted and numb, weak in the knees, incapable of moving any further. She almost felt the urge to sit down and relax, to take a breather and wait for the fainting spell to pass.

"No idea, love, but whatever that shit was all about, I only hope that your motorcycle is fully insured because it's wrecked beyond repair." Max said, smirking and whistling.
A grey-furred arm jerked out from behind the wall which Max had stepped past, holding a silver gleaming Sig Sauer against his head, barrel nestled behind his pierced right earlobe. In the subtle lighting of the hospital's lobby, the name "SIN" could be seen etched out in cursive against the weapon's stocky handle. Kass raised her shotgun to fire a round into the rogue arm but she was shoved forward by Jered, who'd snuck behind her with alarming silence practically unheard of.
 
"I'll show you the meaning of wrecked beyond repair, you fucker." A curdled, womanly growling voice whispered from the depths of shadows covering the pistol's owner. "Move forward, hands up, not a goddam peep out of you. Understand? Or she gets it. Right, my boy?" The voice triggered a fond memory within Max's mind, a friendly reminder of better times, spent and long-since passed.

Jered nodded, bracing Kass in a choke-hold, one arm held tight above her head, the other pulled firm behind her back, preventing her from moving with any means of accelerated force. He'd strapped her shotgun against his back, holding the large boom-stick in his possession, far from her reach. "Right, mom! Jeez, that was way too easy." He leaned into Kass, sniffing at her neck, giving her nape a small tender lick. "Almost as easy as you will be later on, cutie-pie. I hope you're thirsty because I'm very pent-up and I cannot wait to fuck your stupid, silly brains out all over this cold, concrete floor."

Max chuckled, arms raised to his sides, hand-paws near his ears and his formidably large gun dangling from a finger-paw on his right hand, still nestled in the trigger carapace. "Wow. I figured you'd only send our son to snuff me out, but I suppose you had other ideas in mind, didn't you, darling?"

"Shut the fuck up or I'll shoot you dead, I swear." Sin-wolf said, pressing her gun harder against Maxwell's cranium, forcing him to walk forward, veering him towards the wrecked motorcycle. Max grunted, abiding by her guidance, trotting into the wide lobby, hand-paws raised and bushy striped ring-tail jerking wildly behind his thighs.

"Ella es la que se ofreció a pagarme, Maxwell. Ella hizo un trato conmigo para matarte. Posiblemente no podría-"
Jered yanked Kass's arm hard, sprawling the vixen-girl down to her knees. He crashed down and braced his weight on top of her, pinning her legs down to the hard floor, catching another brief satisfactory whiff of her hair. She shrieked and yelped, trying to break free from his grasp, to no avail. He grinned with deviant intent, holding her arms clenched tight in one hand-paw and slowly sneaking the other down her chest to fondle aimlessly at one of her breasts, tweaking at her nipple with playful hilarity. She blushed, feeling incredibly violated, molested and raped. She yapped and snarled aloud, all speech drained from her thoughts, now only flooded with a primal instinct of survival, of not allowing herself to fall prey to the same fucker she'd been avoiding in hopes of reaching Maxwell with a Mossberg round saved for firing into his shepcoon chest - and surprising herself with her dire resistance in doing so, despite the promised payout she'd been guaranteed by Aveline herself.

"Shut the fuck up or my mom will end both you pricks where you now stand." Jered growled, tickling her cheek with his large, thick wolfdog whiskers. He'd swiftly apprehended Kass's shotgun, dangling from his shoulder like a large wooden pendulum swaying to and fro, dragging against his back, clicking audibly. The young vixen really wanted her gun back. Somehow, she knew she'd retrieve it once more - a gut intuition tickled from within, promising such a suggestion.

"Lay another fucking finger on her, Jered Monique Blackburnadeaux-Anchester, and you'll see a whole new side of your mother that you won't find particularly appetizing." Max said, threatening to put a solid end to the both of them. Aveline pistol-whipped Max in his head, sending the shep-coon careening to the floor, Magnum pistol sliding across tiled linoleum toward Kass's position. The vixen-girl pressed her hips against Jered's waist, feeling a thick bulge press against her buttock, distracting the erect bastard briefly, yet just long enough to free one of her arms from his potent grasp. He grunted and moaned softly, audibly turned on by her aggressiveness. 

Kass thrust her arm down, bringing it into a collision-course with Jered's muzzle. She heard a bone-crunching snap and felt a warm liquid leaking down her shoulder, scented of iron and dampened pennies. Jered let her go and squealed, holding his hand-paws to his nostrils, leaking with fresh blood from where she'd elbowed him hard upon his face. Kass scrambled to pick up Maxwell's pistol, arms weakened from Jered's choke-hold and breast tingling from his pinching antics. She locked her grip onto Max's gun and hoisted herself up onto her knees, taking aim at Jered's eye socket, bracing the gun against his slim canine-hybrid head at point-blank range. She wrapped her arm around his neck and aimed her switchblade's pointy tip against his neck, threatening to slit his throat if he tried anything funny, or else he'd wind up getting shot dead, throat slit for good measure.

Aveline knelt down and grabbed at Max's dreadlocks, pulling his head up and cupping her pistol against his fur-strewn hybrid anthro temple, threatening to blow his brains through his nostrils, staring with hatred-strewn yellow eyes at the vixen girl with goggles on her forehead and tattered rags for clothing. Father and son stared into each other's gaze, wordlessly coming to terms with their absence in each other's lives, reaching a subtle conclusion, in spite of the rage-induced delirium shared by the two canine females.

A thick silence pervaded the air, with only the soft winds of a sandstorm heard from outside, a passing tumbleweed brush rolling onward aimlessly, a gust whooshing through the antechamber, rustling curtains and triggering a decrepit crisp flapping, echoing through the room - dried-out paper of magazines flapping aimlessly, pages twirling and tumbling in succession. A single dirty-blonde dreadlock dangled freely off the barrel of Sin's pistol, swinging like a metronome arm keeping a subtle time-signature intact.

"Let him go and we'll both depart, you don't have to do a damn thing out of line." Aveline whispered. "Leave my son alone and I promise, I won't gun down this fucking coward right in front of you. You can have him all you want, you two deserve each other anyways. How dare you turn against me in favor of his offer instead?! And you have the fucking gall, the nerve, to let him tongue-fuck you in the bargain as well?" Aveline shrieked, tail jerking with sporadic movement. Jered leaked a single tear from his eyelid, looking at his mom and dad, pleading for a peaceful resolution. Kassidy scoffed at her bogus proposal. The vixen girl wasn't about to lose sway in such a compromising situation, not even if it meant risking her own life to redeem a swift bounty.

"Speak for yourself, you rancid cunt." Max said, grinning with a silver gleaming canine incisor implant reflecting the glare of sunlight against Kass's eyes. A silver tooth. How she'd never even noticed that before was a profound mystery to the vixen-girl. Aveline slammed Max's head down to the floor after he'd called her such a derogatory name and he chuckled with sarcastic dry humor. "Fucking stupid twat-muffin, don't you have a Navy stud-dick fuck-toy to go suck dry back home in Texas?" Max said, licking a small string of blood free from his nostril, grinning like an insane clown on crack.

"I told you so many goddam fucking times, Max - we were only friends! FRIENDS!!!" Aveline shouted into Max's ear, her gun prodding at his cheek, threatening to unload a clip into his face. Jered winced at her extreme carnage, wishing he could just single-handedly off both the troublesome anthros and be somewhere else very far away with his mother, anywhere and anything else but this compromising situation would suffice suitably in his mind's eye. Kass stared at the mini-family reunion with a small whim of panic building up in her stance, hoping things didn't escalate far too thoroughly into absolute bloodshed or worse.

"Friends?" Max asked, sitting upright on his knees. Sin-wolf flinched slightly, keeping the gun pressed against his forehead. "Yeah, friends with fuck-me-hard benefits. You lied through your goddam fucking teeth just as many times to me and to him." Max said, nudging his snout towards Jered, knelt down and breathing heavily through his mouth, cupping his nostrils shut to prevent any further bleeding, spitting out an occasional wad of crimson-stained phlegm. Kass glanced from Max to Jered, keeping the Magnum's thick barrel planted firm on the young anthro-hybrid's cranium and her prized switchblade pinned against his neck, ready to carve through his jugular vein if the situation escalated any further into absolute madness. "You never told him the truth about us, about how I got these scars, how you abandoned me for Dorian Unclefucking Valentine, how you literally wanted to get him aborted in favor of who-the-fuck-ever else you had in mind. He knows nothing. Is that what you excel in, keeping your private life a secret from everyone, including yourself?" Aveline pistol-whipped Maxwell's muzzle, further accentuating his bloodied nose. His head reeled back and he readjusted his posture quickly, gazing into her eyes with a single hell-bent stare, a tiny red-plumed glow emanating from behind his eyepatch. Misty vapors twirled out from behind the cloth patch like miniature fibrous tentacles, glowing an iridescent crimson red. "Tell me, bitch, just how many months into your term are you with the other bastard, exactly? Were you gonna have Jered killed after giving birth to Dorian's retarded little waste of sperm? You fucking deserve that piece of abrasive shit, you undeniable goddam whore, lying wolf-whoring piece of motherfucking goddam slut-slander dogshit." Maxwell growled, teeth clenched shut in a snarl of raw abrasive disdain. He was nearly on the verge of charging upon Aveline and ripping her throat to gnawed shreds with his sharp ivory-white shepcoon teeth.

Jered sneered at Max, then averted his eyes towards Aveline with unbelieving resentment. "What'd he just say?" Jered's eyelids began to seep with tears of frustration, confusion, bewilderment. He didn't want to see his father dead without a thorough explanation from his mother first. "Mom, what the fuck did he say? Is that true? My stepdad? You... he... pregnant? You're just his fuck-toy?"

Aveline cleared her throat, cocked the hammer back on her gun. "Honey, please, I only wanted what's best for you, only wished to maintain a sense of dignit-"
"FUCK YOU!!!" Jered hollered, startling Kassidy. Aveline wept a single tear, leaking down her muzzle and dripping free from her cheek. She pressed her Sig Sauer's barrel hard against Maxwell's glowing eye socket, covered by a thin cloth patch.
"Stop lying to our son, you fucking prick. I'm serious." Sin-Wolf's lower lip trembled as she watched Jered's eyes develop a fresh, insipid new hatred for her from her limited prehiperal vision. She bore the unrelenting process of witnessing her own flesh and blood turn hard against her, now and most likely forever. Kass held the pistol up to Jered's head, scruffy vixen ears lowered back against her pony-tailed hair, lips slightly smudged with shep-coon pre-cum. She looked as if she'd just survived a college fraternity hazing initiation ritual. She glared at Aveline, daring the wolfdog to try something, anything.

Maxwell swallowed iron-clad saliva, adrenaline-fueled and sickening, clicked his throat, dampened his tongue and sighed miserably. A single tear shed down his muzzle as he stared into Jered's eyes, begging for humility and forgiveness. "I'm sorry, Kiddo. You were always a pawn in her little game. I showed you the ropes, helped you to become who you are now and well, you can see where that got us both." Max felt a subtle emotional connection to his very own flesh and blood, his young cub-child. He felt a longing sense of protection and yearning for Jered's well-being... then Max averted his glance back up to Aveline, giving her a death-stare that could melt iron. Suddenly the notion of having Jered killed to spite her didn't seem like a horrible idea. "As for you, cunt? You can shove your threats up your sorry ass, just like how you allowed Dorian's fucking knot to be shoved inside your bastard-loving sphincter multiple times over and ov-"
A large, howling roar erupted from the window, wide-opened and teeming with shards of broken glass. Aveline's attention was robbed from Maxwell, from Kass and Jered and their predominant little Mexican standoff. She glanced towards the devastated lobby panoramic window along with the others, all equally startled, and witnessed a large Yao Guai attempting to crawl through the fresh new opening, large beastly bear paws clenching hold of the windowsill. The irradiated bear's neck was stretched out, nose twitching, smelling a potent scent of bloodshed from Jered's wrecked snout, the prolonged nosebleed he'd endured from Kass's intense elbowing. Max acted on impulse, knowing he wouldn't get another chance to take affirmative action, risking both the lives of those he loved and hated in a fell swoop.

5.
While the wolf-woman stared back in awestruck horror at the approaching Yao Guai, jaw hung agape, Max lunged himself off the floor, threw Aveline free from his backside and sent her Sig Sauer pistol, trademark signature etched onto its barrel by Edmond years before Max and Sin ever met, sliding beneath a large leather sofa located in the center of the even larger hospital lobby. Aveline screamed and clawed at Max's dreadlocks, realization dawning in her expression while she attempted to slash his one remaining eye out and murder him with her bare hand-paws, hoping to yank his jaw clean off his fucking bastard face and beat him to death with it. Max gained the proper positioning and swung his knee into her groin, cunt-punting her with rigorous physical aggression. Aveline's breath escaped from her gut at once and her wincing expression empowered Maxwell as she curled into a fetal position, falling to her side and rubbing diligently at her crotch, her heavily-violated vaginal area, where she'd invited Maxwell's girth with such seductive strides so long ago. She wheezed and fought to catch a breath, feeling as if she'd just received a freaking soccer-ball to her gut or a hard metal baseball bat smashed against her supple pierced breasts. Aveline redirected her hateful stare towards Kass, who'd plunged her switchblade into Jered's shoulder, causing Max and Sin's son to holler in dire pain, attempting to grab at the knife in hopes of removing it with caution.

"J-j...Jered!!! No, Jered! Please, don't!" Aveline wheezed, moaning aloud, breathing heavily, face pressed onto the floor, dust motes lifting from gusts of air spewing forth from her blackened canine lips. The humidity of the interior of the Anthro Guild hospital was stifling at best, as the four anthros scrambled to make sense of their impending doom, their eventual fate, bathed in a cacophonic dim light, near-darkness, despite the day's glaring bright sunlight casting down upon the barren ruins of desert land, illuminating the outer surface of the Anthro Guild Hospital building, a desolate concrete ruin of abandoned medical equipment and scattered stationary remains.

Kass gripped at Max's .44 magnum and sniffed deep, bracing herself and clenching her jaw shut tight. She caught a slight glimpse of the Sin-wolf, staring with revolting horror at Jered, at Max's pistol held in Kass's hand-paw, then the vixen-girl craned her head towards the charging Yao Guai, slobber dripping from its pouting torn lower lip and eyes painted with a murderous hunger, as she returned her forlorn gaze back at Max, who was nodding his approval. 
"Put him down, for my sake and hers." Max said, pointing to Aveline.
Kassidy's stoic expression never changed.
"Felicitaciones de mi empleador, tu madre folla."
The vixen-girl pulled the trigger once, twice, three and four and five times. She'd nearly emptied all six chambers of Maxwell's prized revolver, firing bullet after bullet into Jered's face with a string of low, muffled deafening reports. The world came to a stand-still, even the Yao Guai froze in place, as the carnage carried out in absolute practicality. Max couldn't bear to look, but couldn't stop himself from watching how Kass operated with a gun like his own. Needless to say, he was very impressed.

Each shot further disintegrated Jered's skull, shrinking his face and muzzle down to gory rubble, a ruined mess of red tangled brain matter and shards of white bony debris. His head blossomed and exploded like a nuclear mushroom cloud as the hybrid assassin-in-training's body trembled, a spasmodic jig of death-laden strides. A strange emanating groan wheezed out from his throat as Jered's body slumped to the floor, blood spurting and spraying in rivulets out of the bullet wounds, leaking around his cratered head, forming a massive red-hued pool that threatened to drown his masculine body in fresh-flowing blood splatter. Aveline screamed aloud and tried to crawl toward his ransacked corpse, completely unaware of the large radiation-infected black bear that now bore down upon her location, ready to maul her to death in an aggressive primal attack, a predatory show of ownership. Kass punted the pistol towards Maxwell, throwing it softly enough for the shep-coon to catch it in mid-air. He fumbled the pistol in his grip, trying not to have a nervous breakdown, then he grabbed hold of the handle and secured the gun to his palm, teeth bared in a wincing frown. He slid open the chamber and reloaded the weapon with fresh .44 rounds fished from one of his rear jean pockets, filling the cylinder to the brim then clicked the gun shut and cocked the hammer, locked and loaded. He winked at Kass and assumed a combat approach to the situation.

"¡Cuidado, hombre!" Kass hollered at the top of her lungs. She reached down and pried her shotgun free from the shambled splayed arms of Jered's corpse, loading a round into the chamber, throwing the strap over her head, reclaiming her firearm once more. Kass raised the Mossberg up, took aim and unleashed multiple rounds into the bear's right arm, left arm, head and chest. The shotgun flared with licks of fire from its stubby carved barrel as the Yao Guai roared, stamping its large long-clawed paws into the linoleum tiling. Fleshy wounds ripped and seared its fur pelt wide open, exposing knobs of bone and muscular scar tissue, glowing with a neon-green hue through tendons of flesh and severed veins, heavily infected with radiation. At one point, Max could've sworn he'd seen the beast's heart, thrumming away with mad repetition, barely held in place by its tattered rib-cage. He caught his footing and took aim as he ran sideways, maintaining his distance and firing his weapon into the Yao Guai's face, causing one of its eyeballs to explode in a goopy gelatinous white mess that ran down its cheek and dislodged its jaw free from its neck. The bear shrieked and snarled, slamming its paws down onto the large leather couch, splitting it in two right down the middle, visibly frustrated with their strength, heavily overlooking the lethal intent of anthropomorphic wastelanders as a whole.

Aveline's Sig Sauer slid out from beneath the large damaged sofa, carving a beeline back across the floor, brushing off Sin-wolf's footpaws. She barely took notice though, for she'd been cradling Jered's body in her grasp. Her arms and neck were smothered with his blood and cranial remains ran against her bosom as she wept with voracious intensity, wept for all the moments in which she'd purposefully lied to his face to protect his well-being, to deny the fact that he'd been born out of flawed wedlock, that she was actually set in the idea of having him aborted, so as not to offend Dorian upon finding out she'd been impregnated by the shep-coon and not the large gangly wolf. How young and stupid they all were. She felt sick to her stomach over countless hours of training Jered to be like his mother and father alike, ruined and wasted by a few trigger-pulls from Maxwell's gun, and by his jurisdiction. Though Kass pulled the trigger, Maxwell insisted so. Aveline developed a profound rigid hatred for the vixen-girl who she'd hired to conduct her own personal objective, only to be betrayed, turned down and rejected in favor of the very force of nature in which she'd hope to put down with decadent ease. She developed a profound longing to see both of them stapled to a cross and hung upside-down while burned alive as she laughed hysterically at their dying pleas.

Sin-wolf's yellow eyes scorched with dire hostility and a homicidal impulse as she glared at Kass, the mysterious and elusive vixen girl, related to Kerry, a long-time friend of Maxwell, part of his regime of young illustrious female counterparts. Aveline's trembling arm reached back behind her footpaw and she grabbed hold of her Sig Sauer, taking aim at Kass's head, opting to empty her fully-loaded clip into the vixen-girl's cranium and chest, just like her own son's demise had carried out. She wanted to show Kass a taste of her very own vixen-bitch medicine. Sin-wolf winced with pain and heartache, then considered joining Jered, pressing the gun's barrel against her chin, threatening to blow her own brains out with a single trigger-pull. Between the large overwhelming Yao Guai's oncoming advances and the retaliation of both shep-coon and vixen, Aveline simply refused to kill herself surrounded by who she'd deemed her worst enemies, the irony would be far too sickening and she didn't wish to leave Edmond or Dorian behind in such an explosive manner, unable to fend for themselves in the wake of her passing. She still had work to be done, still had bounties to be redeemed and lives to be saved. Why bother wasting her own over two others with such benign pity? The taste of the gun's iron sweltered her tongue as she nearly gagged herself with the gun's iron sight, inserted into her mouth, aimed at the back of her throat, hesitating to lick death with elegant strides.

Aveline disengaged her gun, clicked the safety on, removed it from her gaped-open maw and re-holstered her own weapon, silently vowing her revenge, praying to any Creator upon high that she'd get her fighting, dying chance to rip her former shep-coon lover to pieces while drenched in his blood and flooded by the abrasive feminine screams of his newfound vixen cutie as he endured the most revolting torture imaginable - all while Kass watched, pinned to a board of plywood, anally raped by Dorian himself. Oh, the satisfaction! Sin-wolf nearly moistened herself over such a gnarly proposal. 

With dozens of twelve-gauge shotgun rounds dispersed and a few more carefully-aimed rounds fired from Max's magnum, the rogue hostile wandering Yao Guai had finally been put down for good, large fur-smothered body shambling against the leather surface of the lobby sofa. The wounds were vast, croupy with molten, gunfire-charred flesh and the beast's one remaining intact eyeball glistened, white and opaque, devoid of any further life.

Aveline hoisted Jered's body onto her shoulders and snuck out of the building, carrying the corpse of her boy, apt to plot the finest vengeance imaginable for the shep-coon fuck who'd been responsible for everything. For her son's death, for her partner-to-be's dismissal, for all her random wild sexually-enhanced endeavors with Dorian behind the shep-coon's back... for everything. She snuck away from the Anthro Guild Hospital's chassis, hating to retreat but knowing that she wouldn't ever forget how Maxwell had subtly manipulated Aveline's own hired gun to do his dirty bidding against her as a means of indirect retaliation. She'd call Edmond over her radio soon enough to hitch a ride to a secluded location, where she'd bury her son and send him off appropriately, only to plot out her course of action in tracking down and murdering the fool bastard who had fathered her vixen-executed son.
One day, she'd get hers. Karma only needed to bide her time accordingly.

6.
Kass and Max celebrated the demise of not just his estranged son and the utter defeat of Jered and Sin-Wolf, but also wallowed in the successful destruction of the vast, powerful Yao Guai, the forlorn beast of an irradiated bear who threatened to eat all the anthros alive. They'd carve the beast down and salvage its pelt, seek out non-irradiated strips of meat to be cooked, cured and consumed. All in due time, for Maxwell's jeans were yanked with great haste down around his ankles as his lips locked against Kass's lips, teeth entwined and muzzles curved against each other, embraced in a fiery-hot lustful kiss. Maxwell's penis grew incredibly stiff and he humped against the vixen-girl with rapid succession, prodding against her tight cotton panties. She moaned, breathing through her nostrils, as she reached down to slide the thin sheet of fabric aside, spreading her throbbing vulva lips in the same rapid movement. Max's hips thrusted with luscious intensity against Kass's spread-legged groin as he felt himself enter, penetrate her deep within, slide with ease into her fleshy orifice. Her own pants were pulled free, lightly dangling from one of her legs, matted and wrinkled, stained with Yao Guai blood, as her pussy got penetrated repetitively by Maxwell's fresh-grown erection of absolute joy and excitement. Her halter-top was pulled up over her head, resting against her back and on her shoulders as her blue-hued nipples grew firm and rigid, squeezed and sucked on by Maxwell as he pounded himself into the vixen-girl, testicles smacking against her puckered tailhole, moist and lightly scented with shep-coon musk. Kass clenched hold of one of the sofa's armrests, holding on for dear life as she was thoroughly fucked hard by the one whom she'd technically been paid to kill to begin with. 

He licked her cheek and pressed his hand-paws smack-dab against the backrest of the couch, causing tiny blossoms of flowers and ferns to grow rapidly from the spaces in which he'd made contact. The sight shocked and terrified Kass at once and she felt instantly aroused even further by the sickly-sweet potent scent of wildflowers growing all around her. Max's footpaws were dug hard against the floor and mint sprigs, rosemary stalks, ylang ylang flower petals, lavender buds, shiny sticky nugget-clusters of leaf-strewn cannabis - a myriad assortment of plants and vegetation grew wild, like a time-lapse video played in real-time speed, all witnessed and viewed by the vixen-girl as she built up further to her own explosive climax. The sight was both colorful and slightly disturbing, especially since she wasn't used to seeing hardly a weed growing amidst such plant-devoid badlands. Bamboo stalks grew from beneath their weapons, sliding the Magnum and Mossberg aside into small crevices of green-hued bark. She almost thought there wouldn't ever be a field of grass to be seen again in her lifetime. Perhaps with Maxwell's help, her dreams could become a reality.
For now, she was nearly on the verge of cumming herself numb, despite being surrounded by a mini-forest in the making. 

"¡OH DIOS MÍO, follame más fuerte! ¡OH DIOS MÍO, sí! Sí, lo tienes tan grueso! No pares, follame!!!" Kass screamed aloud, cupping her hand-paw around Maxwell's muzzle and squeezing his nose, pulling her other hand-paw's fingertips through his dreadlocked hair, robust with passion and yearning for his full unflinching attention.
 
"What do you think I'm fucking doing, gorgeous?! Hold still now, I’m c-cumming... nngh, aah fuck YES!" Max said, licking at her chin and neck, squeezing her tightly to his body as he slipped his knot into her pussy, clenching and squirming with orgasmic spasms. She kept her arms wrapped around his neck and her hand-paw gripping his snout tightly as she rode hard upon his lap, braced against one corner-edge of the ruined leather sofa. Kass bit down on his neck and caressed his head in her grip while she endured her own climax against his thickened girth, dampening his cock with her excessive vixen-girl orgasm, clitoris prodding at his extensive throbbing sweltered mass of dog-dick which had tied deep inside her fox-girl outstretched vagina. She squirted and panted and yelped and shrieked and melted into her newfound bounty-hunting partner with seductive lewd ease, shivering with thick excessive arousal, teeth clenched shut tight and eyes squinted shut hard. Her blue-colored footpaws clenched inward and stretched out, reacting to fervent wavelengths of pleasure coursing through her body, tingling her belly and causing her heart to race with uncontrollable speed, satiating her hunger for pure raw sexual relief. Her eyes rolled far back into her head and her tongue protruded from her agape maw as she moaned aloud, feeling tremendous waves of bliss crash and burn from within.

After the trembling and whimpering from their shared orgasms began to taper and diminish, Kass saw from the confines of her blurred vision that all the wide assortment of plants and flowers Max caused to bloom and grow were now dying all around them, wilting into crumpled, misshapen husks. Spoiled carnation petals, withered ivy vines, spoiled dandelion stalks - the large wide-open hospital lobby room that had become so green and vibrant in the course of Maxwell's own orgasmic outburst had now begun to shrink and dissipate back into a dry, lifeless heap of nothingness, of sand and harsh sunlight and dim shadowy corners and ashen remains. The sight caused Kass to shed a single tear, considering how such sublime life had helped to spawn a life in return between two bounty hunters, despite Jered's homicidal urges. Kass had wished that Maxwell wasn't directly related to him, not by blood or association and certainly not conceived by Sin-wolf - but sure enough, a father's bond with his son is ever-intuitive and quite immaculate in nature, as is the direct connection between a mother and her son. Kass sighed, remembering her friend Evelyn Dawson, how abusive her mother had been to her and felt a twinge of despairing pity overcome her cum-drunkenness, slowly creep into her sense of being, throwing her thought process into a disarray of pity and regret, dampened out by dense sensations of bliss and sweet release. She felt relaxed, far more relaxed than she'd felt in many months. All memories of Elly Dawson flowed from her mind, replaced with feelings of unparalleled lust and love. She pressed herself against Max and brushed a dreadlock clump free from his face, dragging her hand-paw across his muzzle lightly, with tender grace. "Gracias por salvarme la vida, loco bastardo..."  Kass whispered into Max's ear, licking at his cheek with rich, ripe pseudo-predatory erotic candor.

"Darling, I think you saved me first..." Max replied, dragging his hand-paw down her back in reaction to her own touch, caressing her fur-smothered back in his grip, holding her close and wallowing in the aftermath of their heated rigorous lovemaking. The air stunk of cordite, blood and sex and the humidity was stifling, making the climate feel dry and devoid of any moisture, now that the mini-jungle he'd spawned from fucking the young vixen-girl was nearly extinct. Maxwell stared into Kass's eyes as they made a considerate pact, an agreement to keep each other safe, come hell or high-water. Nothing would stop them now or ever. Max knew that he'd developed a new-found soul-sister through Kass, friend and acquaintance of many old-time ex-lovers and accomplices in his past life. They made a fond agreement to watch out for each other, avoiding the massive Yao Guai carcass that began to draw flies by the dozens upon dozens swarming around its blown-apart gashing wounds. There'd be no salvaging meat from that rotten husk of fleshy remains, after all.

Their sexual intent couldn't be stifled for long, not after such an insane ordeal had gone down between ex-lovers and the bastard offspring, born as a result of bad decision-making and utter discontent between a ravaged love-sick assassin and her go-to bounty-hunting grunge-rocking fuck-buddy. Kass reflected back on how she'd first met Maxwell many years prior, in the hotel's sauna, on vacation with Kerry, her cousin, practically her own sister. She half-figured he'd forgotten who she was so many years later, but to her absolute surprise, he hadn't. How could he, after all?
Maxwell never forgot a pretty face.
Especially not when murder presented a formidable edge to any compromised situation. 
That's what made him such a skilled bounty hunter for so many years.
Kassidy sighed with sweet relief, for their dysfunction had been settled with aggressive ease.

END