>stories>Fixate>Sin City 2000, Type 5: The Better to Yiff You With
Sin City 2000 
by "Fixate" 


Narrated by Timothy Freeze 

Type 5: The Better to Yiff You With

After nearly a year's wait, here we go again... 

Somewhere, out there, was a psychotic vixen yiffing hirself over the idea of swallowing me whole. 

Keeping that in mind, I don’t know why or exactly when I did it, but I obvious felt safe enough in the middle of the theater parking lot, under a high and mighty fur's sadan, nestled in new fallen acid snow, to fall asleep and try to dream of better places. Considering what I'd been through lately, I wasn't at all surprised that they'd all turn weird on me. 

First, I dreamt of Mother, and my sister, Crystal, and I in a castle of ice and snow, with random slides and loops of ice. As they danced in brilliant white wedding-type dresses with suitors made of ice, I literally flew through the rooms, and around the loops and slides. Then falling icicles and shifting, floating blocks of ice appeared randomly as I navigated the virtual arcade world. I don’t know how close I got to the end, or if there was an end, but I ended up getting knocked out by shrapnel from a narrowly missed, giant iceball. 

Next, I dreamt of Crystal and Mother and I bounding through fields of lush, green grass, with the sky a wonderful shade of blue. As we three snow foxes surged forward, the field rolled like a calm sea, the ground being dotted more and more with the colors of random wild flowers the farther we got. Once there was less green than any other color, Crystal stopped to pick the flowers. Mother and I watched her happily until the ground started pitching, and rolling on its own. Mother screamed, and the next thing I knew, we were running in terror as the horizon rose into a giant tidal wave of wild flowers, suds of petals and pollen spraying down at our ankles. We made it maybe fifty yards before an overwhelming bouquet of flowers crushed and suffocated us. 

Then, I dreamt I was kneeling beside the super eccentric red fox known as Seymour J. Polypophilacopolis, who was firing down on other high and mighty furs like a clown colored sniper. Each fur that got hit by the golden arrows I loaded onto his neon green and orange crossbow puffed up out of their fine clothes like a furry balloon. The furs blindly kept on walking outside from random doorways, and he kept on firing expert shots until the view down on the streets looked like looking into the top of a gumball machine. Then, I had this uncontrollable urge to try reaching down there and eating one of those furry gumballs, fell over the edge and twenty stories down the side of the building, and plopped down onto the giant, furry meatballs. 

Next, I dreamt of a younger version of Mother as she was now, working the streets like she used to. Some male high and mighty selected her, brought her to some room, alley, or other secluded place, hastily stuck his member inside the beautiful snow vixen, and then howled in astonishment as he got turned into an ice sculptor. Mother nodded approvingly and then swaggered back onto the street corner, ready to flag down her next victim. 

Finally, I dreamt of that psychotic, red vixen that's stalking me. “Bitchy” V-520. Unstoppable, uncontrollable, unforgettable, Swiss army yifftoy and onstage assistant of Seymour’s vore shows. She was charging down a street on all fours with me on hir back. She mounted a female fur, stuck hir monstrously huge member in her, and the fur literally exploded with spooge. She grabbed a male fur, stuck his member in hir musky tunnel, and he’s violently sucked in. When high and mighty cops tried to stop hir, she whipped hir long tongue at them one by one and they’re shoved past hir rows of shark teeth into hir ever expanding, always cushy stomach. As I cuddled it tight, she waddled on, and then suddenly stopped right at the edge of the road. I fell forwards off hir, ended up falling down that building I was with Seymour on again, but this time there’s not going to be a soft landing. Right before I'd have hit the pavement, I woke up with a start. Immediately, I realized something was very, very wrong. 

When I woke up, I hit my head on something way too resilient to be the car’s undercarriage. It's pitch black all around me... and very comfortably warm... and squishy. This seemed way too familiar. I ran my hands over the surrounding, and felt the bristly lining of Bitchy's stomach, acid free now and still fun to scritch yourself in. I would have loved to, but then I might have been in here permanently. She had somewhat puffed hirself up so that I wasn't constricted in hir belly, but the fact remained that I was in hir belly. I had hid, she had sought me, and now I'd very much like a rematch. I wondered how she got me out from under the car and gulped me down without waking me up. I didn’t know I was such a sound sleeper. You'd think that my years as a homeless fur would have taught me better. 

I couldn't tell if Bitchy's on hir back, or hir stomach, but I quickly figured out that she had sucked me down head first, which made since. If she’d tried to swallow me tail first, I would have definitely woken up. Since she absorbed hir victims straight from hir stomach, she didn’t have and had no use for a complicated length of guts, and so there's only one way in and out of this end of hir. Yifftoys basically had three dead ends, five if you're drunk or in a massive orgy and got hir in the ears. 

Moving as inconspicuously as possible, I slowly did a one eighty and tried to figure my chances of making it out of hir throat unnoticed. It's a bit wider than I remembered, so that would thankfully work to my advantage, but not by much. She’d still feel my fur tickling hir throat muscles. 

Well, no more being careful. I was going to have to run and push, and then run some more. I went back against the other side of hir stomach, softly counted to three, and then dove for hir throat, pushing off the rear of hir stomach. My head and arms got in hir throat, the opening tightened up, fired me back at the rear of hir stomach, which had become a bit more elastic, that suddenly tightened up, and next thing I knew, I was pushed/pulled up hir throat and out of hir yawning mouth. Gladly, hir long tongue made a ramp for me to get over hir rows of shark-like teeth. I rolled in the snow, sprang to my feet, and dashed away on all fours, knowing that I might not be so lucky to be allowed to escape if she caught me again. 

I could hear hir giggling at me as she watched me play hir game of Hide and Eat. Hey, as long as she doesn't let the juices flow, I'm game. 

About five minutes later I was under another vehicle, far from the first, wide awake, and ready to run again. I wasn't not sure how much of a head start she had given me, but hopefully the snow flurry would lighten my scent and tracks. I wasn't really sure if yifftoys make good trackers, but I wasn't going to take any chances. I made false tracks whenever possible and always looked and listened for hir to spring down on me. Then when I got under here, I moved out a slight crater in the snow, spread myself on the ground as low as possible, and generally tried to blend into my least favorite camouflage. 

Just waiting there, watching the seconds go by, with no sign of threat, or even another fur near by, I started considering moving closer to the theater and maybe seeking the protection of Seymour. It was just when I was about to briefly come out of hiding that there was a scream. This time I did hit my head on the car’s undercarriage, and I immediately appreciated Bitchy’s soft stomach. There was a second or two of vertigo, I looked around in all directions, and then there was another distant scream. It sounded closer than before, and I suddenly had to piss really bad. I pressed my body tight to the ground, and held it in for a less awkward time. 

Not knowing from which direction the sound came from, I twitched my ears and sniffed the air. She could be anywhere, but at least she wasn’t here. Yet. I didn’t know if I should have stayed here and hoped.. no, she'd definitely find me if I stayed here. There’s no questioning that, and no use running either, until I knew which way to run. 

There’s a scream a good sized distance to my north, and I quickly, but quietly crawled to under the car to the south. There’s a long pause of silence as I nervously considered how far I’d get breaking into a unobstructed run, and then there’s a commotion from the south. It sounded closer than that scream from the north, and I could hear Bitchy giggling again. Figuring, that the female who screamed must have spotted hir, I moved two cars that way. More silence, and then something or someone hit a car to the north. Hard. She’s closer and obviously knew more or less where I was. As the night turned quiet again, I figured that she’s trying to scare me into going into the open. I wasn't going anywhere. 

More silence, and then the fourth vehicle to the east bowed quietly as some heavy fur hopped onto and then off of it. I watched nervously as she casually spiraled in on me from car to car, able to be seen by every fur but me as she used each vehicles engineering to remain quiet to hir advantage. She just loooved to play with hir food. It made hir yiffier. I had no hope. No hope at all. 

“Hiya, Tim. Whatcha do’n?”, a familiar puppyish voice called out to me. 

Bitchy was right on top of the car I was under. She giggled and then walked over to the car to my right. In response, I quickly started to crawl over to the car to my left, but before I could get underneath it, there’s a blur of white over me, and she landed so heavily on the car in front of me that I would have been crushed or paralyzed if I’d made it under there. I yelped and then dashed to the right, not even bothering to look up at hir. There’s a soft thud as she rolled onto the ground, and when I glanced back at hir to see which way she'd gone, there’s a really loud thud as she slammed into the side of the car she landed on, ramming this and that car together, shattering the side mirrors between them. Daaamn! 

After a loud yiff, she called out a loud, “Olli olli oxen free!” 

With a yelp, I rolled under the next vehicle to my right, got out from under it, and sprinted on all fours for the route back to the theater, as she slammed who knows what into the car again, yiffing louder. Pretty soon, I could hear hir getting closer and closer behind me, hir claws scraping metal as she jumped from car top to car top. Just to show that she’s still playing with me, she zigzagged from one side of me to the other instead of going in a straight line. Woosh, ka-boom, woosh, ka-boom, woosh, ka-boom. It sounded almost like I was being chased by a sixty foot tall macrofur. Then there’s a momentary pause, a blanket of white over me, she landed, dug in hir claws, and stopped in front of me, me with a great view up hir second and third dead end. I skidded underneath hir, very much startled, she whipped hir lengthy tongue up against the base of my tail once I’d passed hir, and with a yelp I skidded on my stomach to a stop. My rear tingling, I slowly turned over and found hir over me on all fours with a toothy grin on hir face. Immediately, I realized that my situation was far worse than I could have ever imagined, though not as bad as that sixty foot tall macrofur idea. 

Bitchy had doubled in size and looked ravenous, or yiff-happy, whichever was worse. Hir now even more monstrous member was still resting nonthreateningly inside hir pouch, but as the now twelve plus foot tall yifftoy stood up and casually and unaidedly caressed hir upper right nipple with hir super long tongue, I wondered what new tricks she could now do. I bet she just couldn’t wait to show me. Whatever happened next, at least I’d be in one piece. 

“Like what you see, Tim?”, Bitchy mrrred, and then raspberried me. 

Not with hir tongue. She’d gotten a live filly into hir stomach and just decided to suck her up hir throat and make her head briefly pop out of hir mouth. Given the opportunity to be known, the filly screamed for her life, and then Bitchy swallowed her again. Under other circumstances I might have laughed, but right now I was really, really scared. I could even see the filly banging and knawing on hir pudgy belly once she was back inside of it. Gawd. 

“You okay, Tim? You’re shivering”, Bitchy giggled as she licked hir tongue all around hir long muzzle and looked at me greedily with hir twinkling, one green one blue eyes. “You’re not cold, are you Tim?” If only it was that simple. 

“H-how did you...” I slowly started inching backwards away from hir on my back as I looked at all those rows of shark-like teeth, also twice as big, and probably twice as sharp. There’s a satanic glow in hir eyes as she waggled hir head proudly, sat down heavily before me, and started caressing, massaging, scritching, and tickling, hir six-pack. I didn’t want to still be here when she started going lower. “I mean, you can’t just...” Hell, if she could pull a five, six, maybe even seven foot member out of a pouch on hir stomach, stuff furs alive down hir throat, and up hir tunnel, and turn hir food almost instantly into an endless supply of spooge, why couldn’t she stuff hirself and turn macro? It only made sense, right? Twice the damage. 

Twice the fun. “You’re so... big”, and bad, and beautiful, but this was starting to go too far. 

“Relax, Tim. I won’t hurt you, yet.” Then to prove hir statement, Bitchy laid down on hir tightly aroused six-pack and started licking my feet and sucking on my toes. My defenses dropped until I was putty, and I mrrred away as she wrapped that amazing tongue of hirs all over and around my snowy paws and tingling pads. In deep satisfaction, I glanced down at hir just in time to see a sly, toothy grin emerge on hir face. It’s play time again. “Want me to really warm you up, Tim? Are you thirsty?” Huh? What’s she going to do this time? Cake me with spooge? Let loose a jet of milk from one of hir teats? Hell, I think I could almost even stomach hir squeezing up hir victim’s blood again. I couldn’t hear or see any signs of the filly anymore, so I guessed that the fur was being transmuted into Bitchy’s next stunt. 

Against my better judgment, I just laid there and opened myself to whatever she wanted to put on or in me. Okay, anything but hir member. There’s nothing but death behind that part of hir. 

After drawing hir tongue back into the confines of hir mouth, she giggled to hirself as she strutted in a circle a couple times and then stopped at a right angle to me, with me next to her left leg. Well, that’s interesting. If I didn’t think hir better than that, I’d think she was about to... but she wouldn’t, because she’s... I mean, no fur in there right mind would have hir... oh Gawd, she is!!! 

High and mighties have no sense of dignity what so ever, and now I had to piss again. Damn you, you awful high and mighties. 

“Time for your bath, Tim”, she giggled as she lifted hir left leg over me, and I rolled over onto all fours and dashed away as she gleefully floods the immediate parking area with musky lemonade. Knowing that every yifftoy’s goal was to perform the perfect fetish perfectly, I knew that somewhere out there was a high and mighty fur who’d give up all his assets to be back there being drenched, most likely with his maw wide open. Sick, quite sick, and then again, was I any better than that fur was. I mean, I seemed to be attracted to most of the fetishes she’s capable of performing, and yes, I was still just a cub, or pup. Whatever. Most fetishes pleased me, but not all. Every fur’s got their limits, and she just found mine. 

Knowing that she could turn off the water works at any time, I ran blindly away from hir and unfortunately the theater, too. Then as I could just hear Bitchy charging after me once more, an olive green sadan pulled up next to me, the passenger side door popped open, and I didn’t wait for a command to jump into it. The door slammed closed as the car hurled forwards, and I breathed a momentary sigh of relief, then yelped. This was definitely going to piss Bitchy off. Oh well. As the saying goes, better to be pissed off than pissed on. 

“Thank you very much, mister”, I yipped as I dove between the driver and front passenger seat and wizzed on the carpet’s fine interior carpeting. I never claimed myself to be housebroken, but at least I didn’t go wherever and whenever I pleased just to get someone else yiffy. A high and mighty’s vehicle deserved to be wizzed on or in this case, in, anyway. To my dislike, the carpet immediately soaked it up, and neutralizes the odor. I just knew the fur in the driver’s seat was sneering at me. They knew my game, and then again, how often did a high and mighty go around picking up an ungreatful fur? Maybe that feature was added in because they themselves were relieving themselves in their own vehicles. I bet it was defused out of their clothes, too. 

Anyway, nonetheless greatly relieved, I jumped back into the front passenger seat and smiled at the jet black fur. The owner of the car was a black panther in a very sharp, navy blue, three piece suit. With deep concentration creasing his face, he did a quick, single nod to the windshield, and then took a split second glance at the rearview mirror before committing all his senses to navigating out of the parking lot and to... well, wherever we were heading. 

"Hi, mister. My name’s Timothy Freeze. What's yours?" Might as well act polite. 

The slick furred panther didn't verbally answer me, but he did turn his head and look me over when we’d gotten to the open street. The second he took his eyes off the road, a tiny indicator icon on the dashboard started blinking. Actually it was more of a zooming out and resetting than a blinking. I guess it was suppose to be a auto-pilot radar. A silhouette of this car with two circles around it. It was pretty neat to watch. One second to do its thing, off for about half a second, one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, yeah, it is half a second. 


When I took a quick glance at the panther, I found that he was studying me like I was studying the simple animation, but with a skeptical expression on his face. It didn't make me feel uneasy, but I wanted to know what he was thinking. It didn’t look like contempt. 

"So. Tim, is it. Interesting. Well, what are you? An escaped treat for that psychopath's... monstrosity?", the panther turned his line of sight back to the road in disgust and the light went off. Well now, I wouldn't really call myself a treat. I mean, hir monstrosity probably preferred bigger, much more experienced targets. She’d blow me up without even spooging. No fun in that, was there. 

"I don't believe so, mister. Yes, I did escape from Bitchy, thanks to you mister, but... well, I guess I decided to be hir treat before I knew about hir... extra features." I wouldn't really call it a monstrosity either. It's just excessive, like hir tongue, hir teats, hir yiffing, hir zest, and now hir size. 

"You're one of those gutter furs." He didn’t look at me again when he said this. No contempt or surprise in his voice. Just fathomless indifference. A known fact. 

"Yes, mister", was the only thing I could think of replying, though technically Seymour had changed my and my family's titles to house sitters. By no means were we like you, mister, that’s for sure. Better to be a "gutter” fur and have respect for others, than a high and mighty and name call. No, I used to live in an alley, not a gutter. I hated life, but I did my best to live life fully from day to day because that one very well could have been my last. You never had to worry, did you, mister? You would have passed me on the street I was begging on without a second thought and hoped I did die soon. 

"So, how did you end up with that freakish monstrosity, Tim? I doubt you just walked up to that heartless cur and requested dying by yiffing." Heartless cur? Who the hell were you calling a heartless cur, mister. The fur in the mirror's the heartless one. Bitchy had more depth to hir than you'd ever have, not to mention that she outclassed you in a lot of other departments. 

"Mister, please stop calling furs degrading names. I am, my family were homeless, yes, until Seymour found us, fed us, and invited us to stay at his house. We-" 

"I knew it! You are just a snack for that thing. Freeze." When Bitchy said 'pup' or 'Tim', she made it sound like a pet name. When this fur spat out my name, it made me want to bite him. Though he was using the same tone of voice, I hated him less when he called me by my first name. It at least didn’t sound like he was demeaning my entire family. "You are lucky I came along. That heartless cur cares nothing for you or your family." Oh, that was going too far. "He-" 

"Seymour? You're calling Seymour a heartless cur?", I barked at him. He replied with that tight-lipped death stare and growl high and mighties gave lower furs when they had gotten in their way, but they didn't have the time to thoroughly mangle that insignificant fur. My attitude changed immediately, and I cowered by the passenger side door. "I'm sorry I interrupted you, mister. I... I thought you were talking about Bitchy. I'm sorry." The car was also on his side, because the locks had slammed into place and I was now tightly belted to the passenger seat. To say that the car had a mind of its own would be stating the obvious.

"*hiss* Bitchy is a chaotic freak of nature," Okay, I agreed with him on at most that. "An equally psychotic monstrosity.” Now he was starting to exaggerate again. “A death tool controlled by a heartlessly evil scientist." Heartlessly evil? Wow, that’s.. um.. pretty evil, mister, and what were you? Heartlessly good. No, more like passionately evil. 

"No one controls Bitchy, mister. Not even Seymour. Yes, she works for him, and he probably gave, made hir, and all, but she's a free roaming yifftoy." I thought against telling him that Seymour had immobilized himself copying hir abilities in fear that he'd turn the car around and murder Seymour. 

"He has his ways, Freeze. Even though you're away from the both of them, you're not safe. Seymour is going to tire of you and your family. Bitchy will stop playing with you, and then you will see the real side of Seymour." 

Yeah, whatever. 

After a while, the car loosened the belt a little, and I was able to sit comfortably in the seat and look at the highway around us. I hoped Seymour found me and took me away from this passionately evil high and mighty cur and car. What's a cur anyway? I’d have to find out once I got back to Seymour’s mansion. This currish fur couldn’t drive me around forever. Well, he could if he really wanted to with on-the-drive refueling and all, but why would he want to? 

It's peaceful driving on the highway at night. Upbeat classical music flowed out of the speakers. So peaceful. So serene. Almost made me want to go to sleep again. I already had my nap, so I just spent the time looking over the three piece suit wearing panther. His muscles put light creases in the suit that the highway lights played over. His yellowish green eyes stared into space as his hands gently held the butter soft, leather steering wheel. What would Bitchy do with a fur like this? Almost a silhouette of himself. Cold as ice and hard as a rock. If I had Bitchy's powers, what would I do?... 

Heh. What would it look like when I was done?... 

First and foremost. How would I get this arrogant fur out of his fine clothes? I’d almost have to... oh, right, that’s what yifftoys do best... 

Damn. ************* 

"Thanks again, mister, for rescuing me from Bitchy. She was getting way out of line", I'd say as I’d slip out of my seatbelt, nuzzle him, and slowly wag my tail. 

"Right, Freeze", he'd reply as he'd look down on me, look me over, and then run his right hand over my chest and stomach, and then stop with his hand on my sheath. As he'd place his hand back on the wheel, he'd comment plainly, "So, why was that psychotic freak so interested in you anyway?" 

"I don't know, mister. Guess she just likes fresh meat", I'd say with a toothy grin as I would slide onto his lap and lay spread out on my back, looking up at him with my icy blue eyes. I'd also stick out my tongue and pant happily as I'd paw the air. That would get him for sure. 

"And you?", He'd ask as he'd quickly spread his legs and step on the brake pedal. I'd end up under the dashboard, and he'd undo his belt. Not his seatbelt. That thin leather strip around his waist. 

"I'll do anything to put some protein in my stomach, mister."... ************* 

No, wait. This wasn't going far enough. I'd need him to take off all his clothes. Would he do that willingly? 

Hmmm... Yeah, I guess this could work after all. ************* 

"I'll do anything to fill my stomach. Beggars can't be choosers, mister", I'd comment as I'd get between his legs, pull down on his jet black silk boxers, and lap up his limp member into my maw. Time for the junior yifftoy to get to work. 

"Right, Freeze." As I'd work my tongue and lips over his gradually hardening piece of meat, I'd slowly pull down on his pants and boxers. He'd see no problem in going half natural, so with one hand on my head to pump me on him and one hand on the seat to lift himself up slightly, we would remove his pants and boxers. For helping me, I'd bounce my muzzle on him faster, trying my best not to scratch him too much with my teeth. I wouldn't have those shark teeth that Bitchy's got. Maybe if I had intended to excessively gorge myself on bite-size pieces of the panther's muscular body, then I'd want Bitchy's teeth. No, his rigid member would fit nice and neatly between my fangs and would be lightly scritched by my puppy incisors. I'd pump him hard until he'd spooge all over the inside of my mouth. I'd probably gag, so spooge would drip from all sides of my muzzle, and then that’s when he'd let go of my head. Licking my lips, I'd smile up at him, and he'd pet me and admire how well the spooge blended in with my snow white fur. "*mrrr* Very nice, Freeze, but you're dripping on my seat. Now, clean this mess up before it stains the upholstery." 

"Yes, mister. I'd be glad to", I'd reply happily as I'd lick the spooge off the cushy leather seat, then off his glistening member, and then off the cushy leather seat again, and then lick the tip of his member to make sure I wouldn't have to clean the seat a third time. 

Next, I'd get back under the seat, gently pull one leg to the center of my work space, then the other leg, putting one foot on top of the other, and then start licking his toes. He'd cross his legs, and I'd slowly and carefully wrap my mouth around the tips of his feet. I'd feel his toes wiggling in my mouth. I'd grab his ankles and pull his feet into my throat. 

I'd definitely need to have Bitchy's plumbing. My mouth would only go to my stomach. My nose would only go to my lungs. That’s how I’d have to be, or I’d suffocate before I got to his ankles. When I'd get to his ankles, and his toes were playing on the inside of my stomach, he'd notice, smirk, undo his seatbelt, and swing sideways so that I was now back on the passenger seat. What would the car think of this? 

"What do think your doing, Freeze?", he'd lightly scold as we'd admire the contrast of his coarse ebony fur on my soft off-white fur. 

"Oh, right. You're not a fan of Seymour’s work, are you mister?", I'd reply through my nose, scritching his lower thigh and wagging my tail ecstatically. 

"Well, now. You're a lot cuter than Seymour’s freakish project, and you come as a travel size. Now, do you intend on just being my foot warmer, or my furry body condom, Freeze." His tone would now be playful, slightly. He’d want to always show dominance. He’d be cold hearted like that. 

"Neither. I'm going to be a little fur with a big fur inside me", I'd yiff and that would make him smile dangerously and nod his head in approval. He’d like being challenged. 

As he'd remove his navy blue tie, jacket, and shirt, I'd swallow more and more of him until I got halfway up his lower legs. He'd slip his fingers into the sides of my mouth, and start assisting himself into me, forcefully. 

I'd quickly unhinge my jaw, and look really funny as he wiggled more and more of his body down my throat and into my almost endlessly expandable stomach. My entire body would be almost endlessly expandable. I’d twist and contort however I’d need to. No matter how he’d pull and claw, I’d giggle, lick, and beg for more. High and mighties love that. 

For the most part, from then on, getting into me would be his job since I'd be too stretched out to do anything significant, but once he was inside me and my jaw had popped back into place, I'd look pretty cool. And I’d let out a really loud belch to let the car know it’s owner was gone for good. The car wouldn’t care. It’d just sell itself to a new owner. I'd be laying across its front seats on my stomach. My stomach would be in the shape of a fur in the fetal position. It would be a white silhouette of the black panther. An inverse. I'd smile a toothy grin at a job well done as I'd watch the animated radar icon all the way to wherever the panther had intended on going. 

It would be neat as hell. ************* 

"Ah shit, it's the highway patrol!", the panther blurted, snapping me out of my dream feast. 

A blinking blue light in the shape of a bell was flashing on the dashboard. Then the monitor on the console turned on by itself, and a digital overhead view of the surrounding highway showed on the screen. Our car was a green silhouette in the center of the screen, and six cars back a car blinked blue and red. As the panther slammed his foot on the gas pedal, I turned and looked out the rear window. Red, blue, yellow, and white lights were now flashing from hidden places on an unmarked car, and then the center of the roof opened up, and a missile launcher popped up. What the hell! All the other cars had already either slammed on their brakes or put the pedal to the metal, and were going in any direction possible. 

As the cruiser kept heading forwards, a missile shot forwards, did a wide one eighty, and outran a station wagon going in the opposite direction. The missile hit the vehicle on its passenger side, exploded, and the car flipped over and skidded to a stop. Immediately another missile launched, climbed up and past us, looped back down, and exploded into the front of a pickup a hundred feet in front of and to the right of us. The truck flipped, and also skidded on its roof. Fire three. The missile flew straight past us and into the rear corner of a trailer truck. The trailer swerved out of control, threatened to tip over, but the rig regained control of it, and the trailer just ended up minorly scarred. Fire four and five. I guess the police were intent on stopping the freight. Working in unison, one missile hit the rear left and the other missile hit the front right of the trailer. The rig was thrown to the left, the entire thing tipped over on its side, and skidded momentarily, successfully blocking four of the lanes. Vehicles too close to stop in time slammed into the trailer truck, but this was a fifteen lane highway, so it was more of a big nuisance than anything else.

“Why are they doing this?” As if I really had to ask. The high and mighty confessingly felt better watching others suffer. The police force was their way of making destructive stress relief legal and binding. Since a dedicated force of police officers would be too easily conned into turning into the most powerful company’s henchmen and militia, the present police force was a stress therapy class for the average CEO, with titles like Corporate Crackdown, Riot Control, Drug Raid, and Car Chasing, to name a few. They got all the lethal weapons and training they’d want or need, and then were let loose on the world to exact their own brands of justice on their fellow furs. Usually their fellow furs ended up being the working and homeless class just because there was no paperwork involved afterwards if we got hurt. I guess it was also even more legal that way, too. “I really don’t feel like dying right now, mister.” 

“You’re not going to die yet, Freeze”, the panther stated tersely as if associating armed missiles with being blown to bits was the most idiotic thought that could have ever come to a fur's mind. Fine. Then, get us the hell out of this situation, mister. We very well could be their next target, since we were technically resisting arrest. 

Suddenly, another police cruiser sped in from the on-ramp, and came straight for the passenger side of our car. You weren't going to die mister, but I might. In a panic, I slipped out of my seatbelt and jumped towards the back seat just as the vehicles collide. Instead of the back seat, I ended up on the dashboard as the panther’s sadan spun violently away from the cruiser. We’d been thrown in the path of another fur’s vehicle, and next thing I knew, I was hurled off the dashboard, and over the panther, who was leaning against the driver’s side door on a previously inflated airbag and secured in his seatbelt. I ricochetted over the top of the front seats, hit the rear seats, and rolled limply to the floor in a great deal of pain. 

This seemed like a pretty good time for me to whimper and black out. ************* 

When I came to, I was being carried under the panther’s right arm like a sack of potatoes. We’re going down some alley at top speed and I could hear other furs distantly behind us. I knew I must be cumbersome, it’s very uncomfortable being bounced around like this, and I thought I was still in good enough condition to run on my own and keep up, so I wiggled out of his arms and fell painfully on the ground. 

“*Yipe* Damn, that wasn’t a good idea”, I told myself as pins and needles shot through my body as I tried to stand up. 

“Your awake now, Freeze? Good. Get on my back. Now!”, the panther commanded as he dropped to all fours and the first of the officers appeared around the corner. I guess the panther had had enough time after the crash to don an insulated, jet black trench coat, which he wore unbuttoned. It wasn’t nearly as smooth or form fitting as his three piece suit, so it’d hopefully be easy to hold onto. Helped by the panther, I jumped onto the back of the trench coat and grabbed hold of its collar. With a hiss at the police, he dashed away from them, growling to me, “Hold on tight, Freeze. I’ve come too far to lose you to those mongrels now. Way too far.” Hmmm. 

Even if I had been in good health, I'm not sure if I could have kept up with this vendetta dedicated panther. He was definitely an experienced runner, seeming to run on walls when he had to make an alley change, kicking up a wake of loose snow on the straight-aways, and navigating this thick maze of streets and alleys like he’d done this a hundred times before. He was nimble. He was quick. But he was outnumbered and outclassed. 

When we got to the main street of the city, we found ourselves very much surrounded. I looked up to see if there was a police chopper watching us from above, and almost didn’t see it. It was painted a very dark gray color, so it seemed like a blurred outline on the ever present cloud cover. Now that we were back under the control of the police on the ground, it swiftly left. Who knows what other police activities were going on that needed its assistance also. Anyway, what mattered now was that there were police in front of and to the sides of us, police behind us at the other end of the alley, and no way of going up or down. Or so I thought. The panther was either a burglar, a super spy, or was just prepared for anything, because he stood up, faced the wall, reached for the sky, and fired a grappling line out of his left coat sleeve. I hardly had time to pull myself up and wrap my arms around his neck before we were flying up the wall. Momentarily. 

Whatever his grappling hook had caught onto, must have come loose, so the line retracted, and he landed safely back onto the ground in an kneeling position. I fell off him, and the police on the street took that as their cue to start firing. Realizing that I was in great danger of being killed or seriously maimed, the panther scooped me up and pulled me under him and his trench coat, which I quickly realized was impervious to just about everything the police shot at us. Sooner or later, the police were going to realize they weren’t hurting us, and would switch to the cruiser mounted missiles. 

Well, if I had to die, at least I could definitely say I lived a very interesting life at the end, and I left my family in good hands. 

“Hey! Leave them alone, you bad little furs.” Bitchy! Oh Gawd, yes! The volley of fire quickly stopped. “Why do you always have to make a mess of things! Someone should teach you all a lesson!” The panther was off me and everyone was looking up. I couldn’t see hir, but I could definitely hear hir. “Like me!” Then I saw hir. I would have had to be blind not to see hir, and dead not to hear hir when she hit the ground after jumping off the building we were going to climb onto. 

When a portly, twenty-four plus foot tall vixen falls four stories and doesn’t even bother to cushion hir landing, there's going to be an earthquake. The tremors shattered windows, made vehicles jump, knocked all the police furs and the panther off their feet, and sent a tidal wave of snow flying in every direction. If the buildings weren’t so well built, this one would have come crashing down on me. I still had to watch for falling shards of glass, and luckily I wasn’t under any windows. Bitchy took this opportunity to scoop up a handful of officers, toss them into the air, and gulp them down like peanuts. Even at hir present size, I could still see the outlines of the snack furs as they slid down hir throat. The other officers screamed in terror and started running in all directions, but she managed to scoop up a few more, and send them flying into the air. With some quick neck weaving she got all of them to land on hir tongue in hir mouth, closed hir mouth as they whimpered and whined, smiled a toothy grin, and them swallowed them all at the same time. This time she followed the lump down with hir middle claw. Finally, she faced me and grinned, for about a second. 

That’s about how long it took hir to realize there was something wrong with me still being spread out on the ground. 

“Hey, you don’t look so well. You okay, Tim?”, Bitchy asked with a very concerned expression on hir face when she saw that I hadn’t and couldn’t stand up, though I had at least rolled over onto my stomach. 

“*nnngh* No, Bitchy. They hurt me very badly. I hurt all over”, I whimpered as I painfully got on all fours, took an uneasy step, winced in pain, and then slid back down onto my stomach. Thankfully, hir hearing was excellent, because I wasn’t in the mood to shout. 

“Oh no, that’s not good at all, Tim.” Bitchy had been giggling when she came crashing back down to earth. This had all been just a big game of Hide and Eat for hir, and by the looks of it, she had been practicing a lot in route to me. But now I couldn’t play anymore, thanks to the police, which were all just more high and mighty in uniform. The yifftoy’s favorite play toy had been hurt, and that really really pissed hir off. Maybe other furs (this panther for example) had seen Bitchy’s serious side, but I hadn’t. Now, I was about to. “Someone should teach them all a lesson... like Malady.” 

“Ah sheeeit! Malady!”, the panther cursed, paused, and broke out into psychotic laughter. “There goes the neighborhood, Freeze.” 

Some furs get yiffy over the weirdest things. 

Next Type: Unchained Malady