Vulpine Unit #9

By Strega

It was dark in the alley, just the way the men liked it.  They had selected it for the shot-out street lamp nearby, which left even the sidewalk in shadow, much less the alley itself.  From here they waited and watched as people went by. The more wary folks crossed the street to where a noisy bar and its lights offered meant they could see where they were going and who might be there ahead of them.

The tall, thin one elbowed his partner as a well dressed man went by, staring at his cell phone and almost falling flat on his face as he stepped off a curb he didn't see. Fifty feet behind that man was a woman, though, and the short greasy man shook his head.  "Her," he whispered.

She had the look of a secretary, or maybe a high end call girl: tall, buxom, mid-thigh skirt, shoulder-length orange-red hair with white tips. She too was engrossed in her cell phone and by great good luck - theirs, not hers - the group of people outside the bar wandered back inside and for a moment, just as she stepped off the curb, she was the only person near the alley.

Alone except for two strong men and their Ill intentions.  A ways ahead the well dressed man paused for a moment, wondering if he's heard something, then shook his head.  It was none of his business, whatever it was.

She put up a struggle as they dragged her into the shadows, biting the greasy man on the arm, but his thick jacket soaked up the force of it as his partner swiftly bound her arms behind her with a length of cord. She opened her mouth to scream but the cry died in her throat as the greasy man showed her the knife.

"Stay quiet and stay alive," the tall man growled, rapidly going through her purse after stomping her cell phone into the pavement. The phone made more noise than she did, a protesting chirp that trailed off into silence.

"We could have sold that," the greasy man whined, but the tall man shook his head.

"We've already got something to sell," his partner said.  "Phones are too easy to track."

"Sell?" The woman squirmed in the greasy man's grip and was instantly cuffed into silence. 

"Don't damage the merchandise, dammit," the tall man snapped.  "Vitali likes them undamaged.  He gets more for them that way and so do we."

"Only undamaged where he can see it," the greasy man said, and shoved the woman down onto a pile of garbage.  She let out a gasp of pain and then one of horror as she looked up to find the greasy man undoing his fly.

"Really? Again?" The tall man sounded more amused than horrified.  "Right here on the trash?"

"Hey, I like 'em dirty," said the greasy man as he forced the woman to the ground. "And you like to watch."

"I do," said the tall man, and the last word trailed off in an agonized grunt.  The woman's hands reappeared from behind her, somehow freed from the cord, and she struck him in the center of his chest with nothing but the palm of her hand. Her arm was suddenly much longer and stronger than it had been a moment before and the impact picked the thin man up and threw him against the far wall of the alley. He crumpled with a groan and the moment she took to glance at him and ensure he was still alive was all the time the greasy man needed to strike.

Maybe he didn't understand what was happening, why her nose was suddenly longer and her skin was much hairier than it had been a moment before. He simply reacted with the cold intent of a man who will kill whoever gets in his way and the knife sank to the hilt in the woman's side.

Her suddenly much larger hand was around his wrist as he pulled it out, and his eyes went wide as he saw the change happen. Pale skin went hairy with stubble that spread and grew into fur, chocolate-brown from her elbows down, orange-red elsewhere. Her stylish skirt stretched and strained before giving way with a sound like a gunshot as her frame grew too large for mere human clothing to restrain. Suddenly it wasn't a five-foot-tall woman struggling with him, it was an eight-foot-tall werefox. Her breasts, padded to accentuate their size in human form, were a mere swelling beneath puffy white chestfur and the pretty face was now a long foxy muzzle fringed by fluffy cheek-ruffs.

Now he was the small, helpless one and she effortlessly forced him down onto that pile of garbage. A long foxy muzzle curled in a smile as she looked him over. "Dearie me," she purred.  "Losing your interest?'. Her slit-pupiled eyes glanced down at that had been an erection and was now shrinking back into his pants in fear.

For a moment he was frozen in terror but her laugh made him start to kick and struggle. "Get off me, you bitch!" The length of her arms meant he had some room to struggle and he planted a kick into the bloody fur of her side with all his might. He had stabbed her there before she changed and he hoped she would let him go but to his surprise she just chuckled.

"Vixen, actually," she purred, and the hand not holding him down ripped his coat and shirt completely off his body with a stunningly rapid motion. The snap of tearing cloth left him bruised and gasping. It was suddenly obvious that the huge fox was much, much stronger than he was.

Her free hand dropped the coat and touched her side where the bloody fur lay. Her clawed fingers smeared the red but soon ran out, as other than the blood there was no sign of the injury. "Do you know, we Weres can heal from practically any injury," she purred.  "If we have enough food."

"It was just a scratch, it's already healed!" protested the greasy man, who didn't like the way this conversation was going at all.  "You're a cop, right?  You got us, take us in!"

"We only really need one of you," she mused.  She glanced down once more.  "You wanted to put that inside me, right?"

"No, no. I was just playing!"

"Request granted," she purred, and the last thing he saw before everything went dark and wet was the flash of fangs and a long pink tongue as her narrow jaws yawned unnaturally wide. He squirmed and opened his mouth to scream, knowing now that he was at her mercy.  It was a mercy that was not forthcoming.

The black van with Lupine - more properly Vulpine, but close enough - Unit on the side pulled up at the alley and the driver slid out of the door, shotgun in hand and scanning the shadows alertly.  "Nine?  Everything okay?"

He saw the silhouette of her tall upright ears move and breathed a sigh of relief. As he stepped closer he saw her sitting peacefully on a pile of garbage, one huge footpaw draped over a barely conscious man to pin him down.  A broad splotch of blood stretched up one side of her swollen belly and he rushed forward to examine her wound but she waved him off with a chuckle and he contented himself with cuffing the perp. He'd seen her hurt enough to know how fast she healed.  "Were they any trouble?"

Nine belched, her claws winkling a shred of fabric from between her fangs.  The lumpy bulge in her middle kicked once, twice, then was still as her long brush of a tail curled around as though to hug it.  "No, no trouble."