[b][u][center]Questioning the Red
By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]








Salla sat on the far side of the interrogation table. So far, they’d left his mask on, but he doubted that the new agent coming down the hallway would be so ‘kind’ as the other members of the department. The mouse watched the security feed out of the corner of one of the mask lenses, smiling to himself as the Doberman got closer and closer. A flick of his eye swapped from one camera to another, keeping the new supervisor in view as he walked through the hallways. 

“Hmmm, hmm…”

The chains around his wrists were just sufficiently loose to allow him to pull his gloves on a little tighter, adjusting them to be more comfortable. Sadly, they didn’t allow him to adjust his coat and tie; the mouse would just have to deal with those being slightly disheveled. 

He looked up at the mirrored glass across the way. Another eye flick – upward, twice – changed the lenses from standard to something a little more…revealing. The wall might as well have been transparent, and he saw a giraffe woman and two foxes behind her. The field agent that had arrested him and two of the desk jockeys that kept this place running, he imagined. He shook his head, swapping back to standard lenses once more. 

[i]She knew better. But then again, I more or less turned myself in for this, didn’t I?[/i]

The mouse smiled behind his mask at his reflection. Five feet tall, slightly disappearing from sight on his side of the desk, with white-gloved hands and a deep red coat and suit, he looked like someone that had taken to fashion fifty years too early for the time he was in. Intentionally, admittedly; there was something to the garish red that felt right for him. The chair didn’t help, either; it was big, meant for bigger species like orcas and horse and bulls, and it made him look all the smaller in it. 

He wondered how the Doberman would see him. Some saw him as little more than a child, while others – 

The door swung open. Salla turned his attention to the taller supervisor, nodding at him. 

“Welcome, Supervisory Agent…?”

“Brock Price.”

“Supervisory Agent Price.” Salla smiled, gesturing to the other side of the table. “Have a seat?”

“…”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you supposed to offer me one? I’m afraid that your colleagues already strapped me to this one quite firmly, heh.”

The Doberman shook his head, walking around to the other chair and pushing it out of the way. Salla saw the little tense spots in the corner of the canine’s muzzle, though. He wasn’t taking the mockery well. 

Good. 

“Seems that you have quite a record. One that the local agents have been ignoring for too long,” Brock said, shaking his head as he looked at an old-fashioned file folder of yellowed paperwork. “Running weapons, running gambling dens and brothels – trafficking people?”

“Hmm. Sounds like your file’s not been updated in a while. Have you included smuggling in the list?”

“Is that a confession?”

“It’s a curiosity. I’ve been blamed for many things; it’s useful to know what you have for evidence.”

The Doberman’s face would have looked neutral to most, but Salla knew when someone was steeling their face, trying to hide something, trying to [i]look[/i] like they didn’t care. This Doberman might have fooled the new guys on the street, but he wasn’t fooling the mouse. 

“I don’t know what my new subordinates were thinking, but this isn’t going to fly.”

“Depending on what ‘this’ is, I think we can agree on that.”

Brock leaned over the table. Salla tilted his head back, another little smirk sliding across his face. 

[i]Oh, are we doing this? Height intimidation? Trying to throw me off because you’re a carnivore and I’m just a rodent?[/i] Salla might have laughed if he wasn’t curious where this was going to go. [i]And here I thought they might have sent someone interesting.[/i]

“They’ve clearly given you too much leeway. Criminals are to be dealt with, not left to run loose. There are rules, regulations that have to be followed to keep people safe.”

“Mmm, to an extent, perhaps, but every regulation has a…loophole.”

“Not when I’m around. Not sure who let you keep the mask, but all personal belongings were supposed to be confiscated. I’ll be taking that.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You aren’t in a position to be making demands.”

Salla shrugged as the Doberman leaned across the table. He supposed that the other man would have to learn, just like all the other supervisors did. Five blunt-clawed fingers reached for the edge of the white mask – 

ZZZZAP!

Brock yelped as he yanked his hand back. Salla sat there as the Doberman nursed his hand, wringing it out as a few electrical discharges still zapped between his fingers. The mouse chuckled, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head. 

“Loophole. All masks must be removed, save for when they’re worn by someone under five-foot-one who doesn’t fit in his chair, at which point it becomes an electrical hazard to those trying to remove it,” Salla said. “Cumbersome, but amusing.”

“What the –”

“Let’s cut to the chase, Mr. Price,” Salla said, holding his hands in front of him. “Loophole. These cuffs are completely normal, except they release their hold once every twenty minutes. Three, two, one –”

Click. 

Salla flicked his wrists from side to side. Just like that, the cuffs fell off his wrists, and a little kick freed his legs at the same time. As he got to his feet, the Doberman grabbed for his gun – 

“You really, really don’t want to do that, Mr. Price,” Salla said, chuckling. “Don’t make me get creative.”

“What the fuck are you doing? How the fuck did you do that? How the fuck did he do that?!” Brock shouted, looking over his shoulder briefly at the mirrored glass. “You! Sit down, right now!”

“You’re asking a lot of questions and giving [i]very[/i] little time for me to answer them. Not that you’d believe me if I did. Now, Mr. Price, why don’t you put that weapon away before –”

“Sit down [i]now![/i]” the Doberman roared. 

“…I warned you. Loophole. Firearms remain the same, save for they are too heavy for the Doberman species to lift.”

THUNK! The supervisory agent slumped forward, nearly dragged off his feet as he refused to let go of his weapon. As it stuck to the floor with the same stubborn heft as a certain mythological hammer, Salla cleared his throat and continued. 

“Loophole. Your belt functions as it normally would, except that when you bend over, it makes your pants and underwear fall off.”

“Wha – Gah!”

Too late, Brock reached back to try and stop his pants from falling down. Dark slacks and tight briefs fell away in the same moment, revealing a heavy sheath and balls that had clearly seen better days; they looked so very full before he tried to cover them. And yet, he still kept trying to yank his gun off the floor. 

“They aren’t training you very well these days, are they?” Salla asked, walking around the table and hopping upon the counter. “Loophole. Your actions are completely your own, unless you’re trying to fight me; at that point, you become an entranced, obedient, [i]good dog.[/i]”

Salla half-hoped a new supervisory agent would be smart enough to realize the easy way out of such a loophole. Instead, the Doberman went completely limp almost immediately, his mouth going slack and his fingers loosening around the grip of his handgun. Shaking his head, the white-furred mouse looked past the entranced hound, looking into the mirrored glass. 

“Miss Valdez, I assume that my point is made?” 

“[i]It always was. We weren’t the ones dragging you in for questioning, you know.[/i]”

“No, you were not. And that’s why none of these things have been pointed at you,” Salla said, shaking his head. “But I feel that I’ll have to shift my appearance for a little while to make sure that this one doesn’t try anything stupid. I get the feeling that he’s one of those that’ll be angry enough to try and prove a point. A man who writes checks his abilities can’t cash.

“At any rate, I’m glad that you still understand our arrangement, Agent Valdez. You leave me alone, allow me to work in peace – outside of the operations I inform you of – and we both get along just fine. This one, however…”

“[i]They sent him because of the arrangement. Higher ups don’t like it.[/i]

“Well, the higher-ups are going to have to learn a few lessons.” Salla leaned his head back. “Loophole. My sex and gender are fixed until someone wants me dead.”

The familiar feeling of fluidity spread through his skin, fur, everything within a quarter inch of his body. Salla rolled his head back and embraced it, already letting his mental image of himself fade away. 

The familiar swell at his chest brought a smile to his – no, her, needed to keep that in mind, to [i]her[/i] face. She kept her hands at her sides as her breasts grew in, pushing forward, adjusting the cut of the suit until the neck bent forward and dipped lower to make a small window. She shifted from side to side, her thick hips growing a little wider and her ass filling out the back of her pants that much more. 

“[i]Oh, God…[/i]”

“Mmm, God has nothing to do with this,” Salla said, her voice already changing pitch and tone, rising and softening at the same time. “Though I’m sure that he wishes he did; I’m a better piece of work than most of his efforts.”

The mouse reached up, letting her swelling breasts fill her hand. A, B, C cup, slowing down finally as she remembered to give herself a bra. Nice and full, thick and curvy, with a heft that was going to be murder on her shoulders until she had a chance to get them properly adjusted. 

As her top changed, so did her lower half. Her pants changed, going from tight slacks to something looser, something a bit more suitable for her bigger, broader hips. She slid off the table as they melted together, becoming lush skirts with a long slit up one side. Her boots changed, too, turning from practical things to high-heeled boots that ran up to her thighs. Click, clack they went as she walked across the floor, adjusting her expectations as her hips rolled and swayed and – 

“Mmmm, yes, those can go,” Salla muttered, allowing her underwear to fade as her masculine genitals went with it. “Considering my new look, I think selling it with a little more flair is hardly a bad thing.”

“[i]I – I will never get used to – to seeing that.[/i]”

“Good. A spectacle should always be splendid,” the mouse said, holding out her hand. “Loophole. My cane remains the same as it’s always been, save for the fact that it is attracted to my feminine self.”

“[i]How do you keep all these loopholes straight?[/i]”

“Heh, I don’t.”

“[i]I – you –[/i]”

“Better that you don’t think about it.”

Through the whole transformation, Price had remained where he was, bottomless, entranced, completely slack and relaxed. It was rather amusing; all the Doberman needed to do was stop fighting against his new loophole and he’d be able to act of his own accord again. Seemed he was too determined to stop fighting. 

“I’ll be taking him for now,” Salla said, taking hold of the Doberman’s sheath. “I think that he’ll be needing some…reeducation.”

“[i]Higher-ups won’t like that.[/i]”

“Heh, they already don’t like what I do. They will have to learn, one way or another, that they won’t be getting what they want when it comes to me. I’ll have him back in a day or three.”

“[i]How –[/i]”

The door slammed open. Salla held out her hand, catching the amethyst-tipped cane that flew through after it. Chuckling, she leaned against it and nodded at the mirrored window. 

“See you soon.”

She tapped the cane against the floor. She and Brock disappeared. 

#

“Mmmm, well, at least you have plenty to offer,” Salla said, walking around the bed as she chained Brock’s ankles to it. “Would be a shame to have to alter your body too much to enjoy it.”

The Doberman was still entranced, but that might not last through the whole two days that she had planned. Better to be careful; one did not reach her position without making sure to cover her bases. 

Salla had already tied the dog’s arms over his head, keeping him stretched out in an x-shape on the mattress. The room’s metallic walls were a dull backdrop to what she had in mind, but – well, it was going to be more interesting this way. A dungeon by any other name still held one tight. 

She stroked a finger along the dog’s bare feet. Soft brown pads dotted the underside, and each toe curled at the tickling stroke from heel to toe. She smirked, ditching her dress as she climbed onto him. 

“I imagine that you’ve not had this sort of experience before, Supervisory Agent Price,” she said, crawling up his legs until she reached his groin. “A criminal woman having such power over you. And the reminder that she was very much a man only a few hours ago. I imagine that your mind is racing, trying to make this all make sense.”

She reached down, cupping his balls, giving them a little squeeze. It took surprisingly little to get his cock to start rising from his sheath, the tapered tip already starting to ooze pre-cum. 

“Mmm, mmm. The body is willing, even if the mind is dazed and confused,” she said, adjusting her skirt and pushing it off to the side as she straddled him. “I know that you want to know what’s going to happen to you. Don’t worry; you’ll be returned to your office in two days. After I’ve had my fun…and after you learn your place. 

“And in case you think that you are being given a treat instead of being punished, let me remind you how much of an object you are. Loophole. Your cock works exactly as it should…until it makes contact with me, at which point, you cannot cum until I tell you to.”

The Doberman let out the tiniest of whimpers, but his cock throbbed all the harder as she rolled her hips forward and positioned her ass against the tip. 

“Let’s start, shall we?”









[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: A little story of Salla, the Person in Red, and the little power that they have over the world.

Tags: F/solo, M/solo, M/F, Gender Swap, Mouse, Salla, Reality Fuckery, Criminal Deals, Interrogation Room, Doberman, Over One’s Head, Mind Control, Personal Story,