Lupine Unit #4

By Strega

It was a big, strong dog, over a hundred pounds of brown and black rottweiler with no collar. Covered in scars, probably a fighting dog rather than a pet and viciously aggressive.  Not intimidated by Four at all it leapt at the werewolf, snarling, ready to bite.

Lupine Unit Four blocked with his foreleg and the rottweiler clamped down with force that would fracture a human's bones. Four was made of sterner stuff.  Tallest and lankiest of the LAPD's werewolves, unlike the others his forearms and lower legs were wrapped with thick layers of tough cloth that easily withstood even the strongest bite. A spiked collar six inches wide protected his neck should a dog get that close.

Stubbornly the rottweiler held on even as Four lifted it from the ground. The werewolf stood, nearly ten feet tall on paws the size of a man's head, and ran his other wrist along the dog's body. There was no chirp from the armored bracer he wore on his right wrist.  No ID chip implanted in the dog.

Still the dog hung on, brainlessly trying to bite into Four's arm even as the werewolf bashed it against the sidewalk.  It took three carefully measured blows, hard enough to stun but not hard enough to shatter bones and bloody the concrete before it finally let go.

Half conscious, it blinked as Four flipped it into the air.  The last thing it saw as it plummeted headfirst toward the ground was a sudden flash of fangs as Four yawned. There was a wet thump, the werewolf's seemingly solid collar parted on each side as the elastic under the tough leather stretched, and a great bulge moved through Lupine Unit Four's gray neckfur as he bolted down the dog.

It was not the largest dog he'd swallowed. Dogs as small as bulging-eyed chihuahuas and as large as Saint Bernards had vanished down Four's throat over the last year. A great English mastiff more than a third of Four's six-hundred pound weight once bulged out his middle before being consumed by the werewolf's digestive juices. The rottweiler was no such challenge and the werewolf swallowed easily, his neckfur shrinking back down as the kicking dog slid down its throat.

It was not a heavy meal for a big werewolf and Four belched briefly, glancing around before dropping down to all fours and  trotting down the sidewalk. Even at a casual pace he would cover twenty miles in an hour. He covered less than one before he reached the waiting van with Lupine Unit painted on the sign.

"Get him?" The driver set down his coffee and looked Four over, noting the still-kicking bulge in his middle.  Even a meal  barely a sixth his mass made a considerable lump in the lean werewolf's belly and there were a last few movements under the fur as the rottweiler succumbed to lack of air and gurgling stomach acids.

"Just a second, bud." Four turned his back at his partner's gesture and the driver loosened the straps on the armless black vest the werewolf wore.  This too had elastic at the sides but one of the straps had gotten tangled.  Like the mid-thigh shorts and like all Unit clothing made since Unit Seven died in action the vest was far tougher than it looked.  Layers of ballistic fiber hid beneath the fabric and the huge but seemingly simple vest with its front-and-back Lupine Unit 3 stencils weighed over fifty pounds. It would be a burden for a man but the driver had seen Four effortlessly hoist the back end of a car off the ground and his partner wore it as easily as he would a T-shirt.

Similarly his shorts were partially armored and that included a long sheath-shaped groin protector. Unit 4 got into fights with ferocious dogs on a daily basis and dogs would bite anywhere they could reach him, including his balls. Most such wounds were easily regenerated but the werewolves didn't object to flexible armor and it was simply more efficient to not get wounded at all.

With the tightness around his bulging belly relieved Four climbed into the back of the van. The inner walls were lined with inches-thick padding as though the whole thing were an enormous bed and he curled up at the front to doze as he waited for their next assignment. It gave his belly time to get to work on his meal and there was a warm gurgle as his digestive system began to dismantle a hundred pounds of dog. The rottweiler had been a tough customer but but proved no harder to digest than had a hundred previous occupants of the werewolf's belly.

His partner climbed back into the cab and keyed the radio.  "Dispatch, Dogcatcher here. We got that rottweiler.  Anything else out there for us?"

"Dogcatcher, there's a rumor of a pack of strays in the LA river up by Pasadena. Supposedly they killed someone's dog.  We've got someone looking into it."

"I'll head that way in case it pans out," Frank said into the radio handset. Little of note happened for almost an hour. Some Animal Control agents would go out of their way to avoid calling the unit now known informally as Dogcatcher but most were happy to send a werewolf in to deal with vicious strays instead of getting bitten themselves.  Other times they were called in for more typical police work but Four, least vocal of the Lupine Units, had proven so useful in dealing with dogs and other problem animals that much of the time that's all he and his partner did. Dogs, feral cats, opossums, troublesome raccoons, and other critters were on the menu.  Four had almost been allowed to eat a cougar before animal control changed its mind and they'd been told that the next time a particular tagged black bear caused trouble they'd get a call.

Four napped briefly in back as his stomach worked but soon the driver felt the tickle of whiskers as the werewolf's long muzzle poked through the window between the cab and van body. He prodded the driver with his chin as he saw something and Frank nodded and pulled over to the curb.  He turned his head to speak through the window but the back door of the van was already opening.

"Doggy," said the little girl on the sidewalk, parent or parents nowhere in sight. She couldn't be more than three and Four loomed over her, but she showed no sign of fear at all. Unit four sniffed at her, his sensitive black nose twitching, then swung his head to look at his partner. The angle of his ears told Frank he was unhappy with someone and Frank had a good idea who.

"C'mon little lady, let's find your mother." The little girl blinked owlishly at Frank's uniform before taking his hand and they followed the werewolf as Four went on all fours, sniffing as he backtracked the little girl's trail. It led halfway down the block and  Four ignored a doorbell to thump on a house's front door.

"Yeah , yeah, what the hell is <i>Jesus Christ!</i>" A man in shorts and stained white T shirt went back on his ass as he opened the door and found himself nose to nose with a hulking werewolf. Four's amber eyes narrowed as he sniffed, taking in the cluttered living room and blaring TV.

"Sir," said Frank from behind Four's shoulder, "Officer Black, LAPD.  Is this your daughter?"

"Doggy," said the little girl helpfully and the family was soon reunited. Happy as the child was her father was less sanguine about the situation. That happened when an irritated werewolf was looking you over and Frank read his partner's body language.

"Sir, your daughter could have been hurt.  It'd be a good idea to turn the TV down and pay attention to her. If we find her out on her own again we'll have to call CPS."

They left the now extremely cooperative man behind but a low growl bubbled up out of Four as they walked back to the van.  "I know bud," Frank said, reaching over to ruffle Four's neckfur as the werewolf padded along on all fours.  "Did you smell anything?"

Four shook his head.  If there had been any drug use in the house he'd know it and it frustrated the wolf to want to do something but have no legal justification to do so. Sometimes people were just stupid and you couldn't arrest - or eat - someone just for being a little neglectful.  But you could keep your eye on them.

They ran into a blond woman jogging on the sidewalk and as often happened curiosity about Four gave them an opening to ask some casual questions about the neighborhood and the man they'd just talked to. The werewolf sat back on his haunches to let the jogger pet him and Frank gave her a business card with a contact number in case she saw anything untoward happening with regard to the little girl.  It was all routine police work and Four sat there with a slightly smug expression as the woman very obviously looked him over while wondering...you know. It certainly wasn't the first time that happened but the werewolf was all manners. There was a time for everything and he was on duty.

Then Four's ear twitched as his earpiece chirped and he rose to all fours. Frank nodded as he heard the call too.  "Ma'am, thank you for your cooperation," he said before the two climbed back into the van.

Ten minutes later Four tugged at his cloth arm armor, making sure it was snug as he sniffed the air. Frank slid on thick leather gloves with the right index finger cut away and checked the action on the riot shotgun. He rarely needed it but you didn't get to be an old cop by being complacent.

Frank unlocked the river channel access gate with a city key and drove them along the concrete riverbed, swerving around sandbars and drifts of garbage with Four's long muzzle resting on his shoulder until he felt the werewolf go tense.  Four smelled or saw something and even as he braked the muzzle on his shoulder was suddenly gone and the back door of the van flew open with a crash.

He saw the flash of black fur out of the corner of his eye as he piled out of the driver's seat but Four was so fast that by the time he had the shotgun in his hand a pit bull was twenty feet in the air over his partner's furry head and another of the same breed barely had time to snarl before a single snap of the werewolf's jaws swallowed it whole. The pack of ferals panicked at the sight of the huge werewolf and two tried to bolt but Four batted one into a concrete abutment as easily as a man would swat aside a fly and shot a long clawed arm out to keep the other from escaping on the left.

He had them backed into a corner and they tried to fight as Frank stood ready with his shotgun. As usual, he didn't need it. There were two pit bulls left, then one. A German Shepherd, cornered, leapt right at Four's face but the werewolf's jaws snapped wide in response and the dog's momentum drove it right down the waiting throat.

Frank had a shepherd of his own but he felt little sympathy as the dog's hindpaws disappeared into the corners of his partner's maw and a black-tipped tail followed the rest.  A great bulge moved through Four's neckfur, stretching his collar, then it was gone and two smaller dogs disappeared in two quick snaps.

There was only one uninjured dog left and Four pitilessly stuffed it into his jaws, yawning with practiced timing so it could not bite his tongue before swallowing. The bulge of mutt joined the swelling in the werewolf's midsection and a huge hand found a pit bull,  trying to limp away after being launched into the air earlier. Four put his foot on the last dog to stop it crawling away and bolted down the pit bull with little ceremony. A mighty belch bubbled up out of him, one clawed hand shifting his vest to give the ponderous bulge in his middle room to breathe. He had just swallowed at least half his weight in dogs and that didn't count the partially digested rottweiler already sloshing around in there.

He had seen something that kept the last dog at least momentarily out of his gullet and he lifted it to look it over. It was a brown-furred mutt with a red plastic collar and his armored wristband chirped as he ran it over the dog's body. It had a chip and he looked it over, deciding it it was too hurt to save.

Four had discretion in these cases and the dog might yet get a short trip through the werewolf's digestive tract with the others but the werewolf shook his head. He held the whining dog by its scruff as Frank spoke into his collar microphone, got no answer, then tried the van radio in the hopes that a stronger signal might make it out of the concrete river.  It did and fifteen minutes later animal control arrived to take custody of an extremely relieved dog which had probably thought it was going to join the yelping mass of strays in Four's stomach.

"Hey Bob," Frank said, and the animal control man smiled as they slid the injured dog into a cage.

"Better you than me, Frank. You wouldn't believe the bites I used to get on calls like this."

The last dog in Four's stomach went silent, having lasted a remarkably long time thanks to all the air trapped among the bodies and probably helped by air exhaled by the rest of its pack.  It was horrifying the first time you heard that dying whine but you got used to it and Four let Bob scratch his ears before letting out one more burp and climbing back into the padded van. A moment later Frank was in the driver's seat and waving to Bob as he too got into his truck.

"I'll get the gate," Bob yelled.

"Thanks man!"

Four watched sleepily from the window as Frank called dispatch.  "...Coming in now, we're done for the night unless you have something small or there's an emergency." Four could retch the dogs right back up but that would make a mess and while he had indicated he would do it if asked the situation had never arisen.

In the absence of barfing dogs up they had to leave his body another way and he let out a little whine as he saw a port-a-potty next to a park that hosted a small homeless encampment.  Frank pulled over and a man pushing a shopping cart watched bemusedly as a ten foot tall werewolf somehow stuffed himself into the john.  It would be a tight fit even without the huge bulge in the werewolf's middle and Four hooked his claws out through the crack in the door to hold it shut as it groaned in protest.

"Hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go," Frank joked and the man laughed.  Everyone had a digestive emergency at some point and while tonight's dogs couldn't possibly have made their way through the werewolf yet maybe one of last night's meals had decided now was the time to leave.  Stuffing himself full of dogs didn't leave much room for any previous snacks and it wasn't the first time a meal led immediately to a bathroom visit by the werewolf. 

"I hope you lit a match," Frank said when the werewolf returned to the van and Four gave him a good-natured grin before curling up in back. Digesting two-thirds your weight in dogs took some work and he didn't reappear at the window until Frank pulled in at the station.  A little paperwork later he walked Four to his room.

Like all the Lupine Units Four had the option to live on his own but he chose to sleep in an old training room at the station. Housing prices were crazy in Los Angeles and while his pay would cover the rent, he'd accepted the offer of a place to stay. It meant he was effectively always on call but the silent werewolf never complained.  Overtime paid well, after all.

His "apartment" was a long narrow room whose ceiling was plenty high for a man but too low for Four to stand upright. At one end was an enormous shower and a rack for his armored clothing. An equally large toilet took up more space and about all the remaining room was taken up by some secondhand but clean mattresses he slept on.

"We gotta get you a bigger place, bud," Frank said as he unsnapped Four's vest. The werewolf shrugged as he effortlessly hefted the heavy thing onto the rack, which had been hastily but competently cobbled together out of 4x4 lumber.

Four tugged off his shorts and Frank turned his attention to the cloth windings on one of the werewolf's forearms, not really needing to be reminded of what lurked under Four's armored codpiece. The werewolf didn't sweat but he got very musky under all that fabric and one glance at what the shorts covered up could make you feel pretty darn inadequate.

"Hoy," came a voice from the door.  "I can get that, Frank.  If Four's got a few minutes I should give him his weekly going over."

It was Doctor Rippman, the grandmotherly and somewhat broad-in-the-beam station medic.  "You sure doc?  I don't have all his gear off yet."

"That's fine, Frank." She tapped him on the shoulder.  "I can see the blood.  You know I have to make sure he's healing right."

The normally lean werewolf, who now sported a great lumpy bulge of not-yet-dissolved dogs in his middle, nodded his agreement and Frank waved as he went out the door.  "All rightly then.  See you tomorrow, bud."

If he heard the door lock behind him he didn't say anything.  It was none of his business.

"Well, this doesn't look too bad," Doctor Rippman said as she watched Four unwind the tough wrapping from his forearms and then his calves.  "Not that you need it, tough doggie that you are."

He had two sets of wrappings and dropped the used one in the wash basket next to the basket full of clean ones.  The doctor went over his fur, poking through the few patches of dried blood to make sure the wounds had regenerated properly. Lupine Units were so new to the force that they were still learning new things about them. It hadn't even occurred to them that bullets could kill one until Seven went down, shot to pieces by the group of terrorists he killed at LAX.

Now there was Lupine armor and attendant physicians and people who lived with them on a daily basis.  And some who learned to like them, maybe even love them.

They were big, and tough, and loyal unto death, but they could be surprisingly gentle too. As she felt her way over the great bulge of swallowed dogs, purportedly looking for injuries but in fact giving him a belly rub, her hands gradually crept lower, then back up, teasing him. As if by chance his muzzle dipped so his furry chin tickled the join between her neck and shoulder, and his broad tongue came out to taste her skin.  When her hand eventually came to rest on the long swell of his sheath his claws and touches of his nose gently helped her undress.  He inclined his head toward the shower and by the time the water came on they were both naked.

It started out cold, as he liked it, but he knew the temperature she preferred and turned a steering-wheel-sized knob to adjust it.  There was shampoo to be had, both the brand he liked and hers.

The warm water rinsed away the musk, her sweat, the blood of dogs and his own.  It washed away her saliva, and his, and in good time it washed away other bodily fluids too.

And if any of the cops or staff noticed that the doctor's car stayed in its slot all night, with her appearing bright eyed and cheerful the next morning despite never going home, they kept their opinions as to where she might have spent the night firmly to themselves. Workplace jokes were one thing but when you worked with a six-hundred-pound werewolf it was often best to keep your nose in your own business.