Malady. It means disease... or so I'd been told. 

Whatever it might mean for real, right then it was the name, or nickname, of a certain macro vixen yifftoy out for revenge... or at least that's what I thought was happening. Honestly, I hoped not. Not from Bitchy. Not for me. It just wasn't worth all the repercussions to hir, and the emotional torment on me. 

You see, 99.9% of the time, fatally and or contagiously diseased furs, known or accused, were killed and cremated on the spot for the safety of the rest of the furry population. No questions asked. Just a point of the finger, a nod of agreement from the peers, and a blast of the easily accessible napalm or flame-thrower is all it took. If the fur wasn't put out of his supposed misery by flames and heat alone, then there was always a high and mighty with a pistol in their pocket somewhere nearby, just eager to finish him or her off for good. 

Of course, this was the leading excuse for a high and mighty to commit a random act of violence on a homeless fur. Who was really going to stand up for that other fur and say that he or she wasn't carrying something? That kind-hearted fur might as well be calling himself or herself that fur's mate, which, just for safety reasons, was also eliminated. STD's and all that, I guess. The high and mighty had enough, self-generated problems without having to worry about any other fur giving them anything but I quick and fairly painless death. That is, unless they wanted and were eager to pay heavily for that type of thing, and, like any other fetish, there were always enough furs into it to make it a somewhat lucrative business for some other fur. 

Also, this was the biggest reason why what was suggested to have been happening, wasn't suppose to happen at all. Supposedly, diseased yifftoys were not supposed to exist. Period. Yifftoys were suppose to be immune to any and all types of diseases, and so were not suppose to be able to spread disease to any other fur. Exactly how this was possible was way beyond me, but it's the main reason why yifftoys were preferred by the average yiffy fur, over other furs, and sometimes even their mates. Actually, in the high and mighty's case, usually over their mates. 

The fact that all yifftoys were supposed to be sterile, too, also worked into this equation, which made me wonder if Bitchy regarded me as hir own pup. She did rebirth me while we were in the theater, and although hir voice sounded as young as or younger than my sister, Crystal; she looked just about Mother's age. 

Then again, there really didn't seem to be any specific rules when it came to Bitchy and the age a fur could start yiffing. Amongst other things, Bitchy seemed to like breaking rules and regulations, and as far as pregging went, well, let me put it this way. 

If Seymour hadn't saved us when he did, and Mother had died, and it looked like I might be next in line for the family's death toll, then, for the need to continue the Freeze name, I'd yiff and ultimately preg Crystal. Though she probably wouldn't be mentally ready, she'd been physically capable since the day she stopped weaning, and much more easily pregged now than when she'd reach adult age. She'd probably have one cub instead of a full litter, due to the fact that she was and would still be a pup for quite a while, but it would have been born healthy as long as she herself remained so. I myself would have died by her side to make sure that she would be. 

I'm glad it never got that far... 

Nonetheless, if Bitchy, which she had seemed to take as a literal name, really was now a Malady, then she was breaking the primary rule of hir being a yifftoy in the first place. Yiffiness without any fear of future consequences. Now, she's probably quite aware that I didn't like high and mighties for the sheer fact that they had made my mostly dead family's street lives a living hell, but I couldn't approve of Malady spreading a virus of any kind. Especially if it was a virus that was intended to just make up for my temporary paralysis. It just wasn't right morally, psychologically, or physically. And most of all... It wasn't yiffy at all. 

No. Most of all, it wasn't Bitchy. I mean, where was the twisted yiffiness in a plague? She could probably find one, but I didn't want hir to. It just wasn't furry to do so. Or was it just another game that the high and mighty played when they got bored? It'd figure if it were. 

"Bitchy! Stop! Please! This isn't like you!" I, the only unchanged snow fox in my family of three, yipped from on top of a mysterious, almost super spy-like black panther's lap, high above the nearly vacant street below. "You're a yifftoy! You're better than this!" 

Bitchy looked like she was too busy with hir new mate to listen to me. Below us, the furotic macro vixen decided to snuggle up against a jet-black limousine that was patiently waiting to get back into the comfort and safety of its heated garage. As she nuzzled and licked its high gloss exterior, furotically cleaning it of all the harmful snow and smog that that leached onto it, she slowly moved hir massive body halfway onto and over it. If anything, she was acting a bit more tame with the limousine, than with hir furry mates. 

"Shut up, Freeze. Yifftoys, and especially that useless piece of meat, are no better than or above doing anything sleazy or degrading. You showed such deep interest in that thing's actions earlier. It was killing furs before, and it is still going to be killing furs now. Only, it will probably do it more graphically and openly. You do like seeing select groups of the city's population get what they deserve, right, Freeze? Or are you turning soft just because of a difference in intentions", the panther purred coldly, glaring at Bitchy as we sat four stories above the action. "Maybe you never liked that vile mistake in the first place, Freeze. Maybe, just maybe, you see just how evil Seymour and his psychotic creation really are... as soon will the entire world", the panther continued, with an unsettling know-it-all grin, "Yes. This will do wonders for Seymour's popularity. Aye, Freeze?" 

Between sliding hirself over the limo's roof from one side of it to the other, Bitchy buffed its roof with hir underbelly and cleaned its windshield with hir long, snake-like tongue. Then she decided to inch hir left arm and leg underneath the limousine and gently roll it up and over hir body so that it ended up helplessly on its roof. The second it realized that it was going to be in an uncompromising position, it had started its engine and tried to get away. Unfortunately for it, she was clutching it tightly enough that even it's front driver's side door was wedged shut. All it could do was spin and turn its wheels and honk its horn. 

Hir mate now left wide open for hir, Bitchy moved hirself to onto the limousine's undercarriage and cooed and yiffed as she let the limo's dual rear wheels bump and grind on the creamy fur of hir inner thighs. Then she pushed hirself farther and farther down and wiggled hir body from side to side, so that all six of her nipples got the same treatment as hir lower area did. Finally, she was lying down behind the limousine with hir muzzle resting on the underside of its rear bumper, hir journey down its reinforced undercarriage only somewhat cleaning it off. 

"Stop bad-mouthing Seymour, mister." I barked, painfully forcing myself off of the panther, whom I still had no intention of learning the name of. "Unlike you, mister, he's a good fur." 

Bitchy had now noticed the limousine's long tailpipe and mrrred as she robbed it with hir right hand over the last few feet of it. It wasn't protected by the solid undercarriage like the drive shaft was, so, knowing hir, I knew she couldn't resist trying to stick as much of it as she could up hir moist tunnel. 

If there was one thing I'd learned throughout my short life, it was that most furs were at least a little bit predictable. This panther even more so than most. 

Ever since this fur had driven me from the theater, all he'd ever been talking about was revenge on the super eccentric red fox, Seymour J. Polypophilacopolis. Now, by fate, the panther had finally got his wish, just because some idiots had wanted to play cops and robbers with our lives. Actually, that had played in all too well with how the past day had been going for me. 

Seymour had almost too happily rescued us off the streets, and then had done some really weird things with my mother's and sister's bodies. Then Bitchy had done some even weirder things with hir own body, as if hir being a hermaphrodite wasn't weird enough. Especially since I'd found myself so attracted to hir because of it. Then, when Bitchy started getting too playful for my own good, this panther had volunteered to kidnap me, seemingly to really piss off Bitchy, and turn hir into... well she still looked pretty much like big bad Bitchy to me. Only, now Bitchy was big enough to mate with a stretch limousine. 

Once Bitchy stopped caressing the limousine's undercarriage, she moved over to the right side of it, laid one hand down to steady the black vehicle, and grabbed hold of its tailpipe with the other. Next, she carefully curled the long, hollow pole out and up enough to look appealing without cracking any extra holes in it or stopping it up. Though I doubted that limo had sensor that could tell it exactly what she was doing to it, it definitely knew something wasn't right when she remounted the limo and slipped its wiggly exhaust pipe up hir tunnel. After a few revs of its engine to try to unblock itself, which was responded by just as many yiffs from the macro vixen, it put two and two together and shut itself off. 

Greatly annoyed that she had been rejected, Bitchy hopped off the top of the limousine, looked at all the other cars that were parked sporadically up and down the street, and narrowed hir selection to a golden luxury sedan, which immediately turned on and tried to take off. Bitchy easy outran it, jumped on top of and rolled over with it tightly in hir clutches. Next, she pushed it down off hir body so that it landed heavily on its roof, she flipped back onto hir feet, and began pushing the frantic vehicle back towards the limousine. Once she had gotten the sedan to in front of the limo's headlights, she casually leaned over it, smiling sweetly and mrrring. 

Though the sedan continued to spin its wheels and blare its horn, the limousine remained lifeless. 

"Well, aren't you a stuck up hunk of metal. I clean you up, buff you down, and when I want something in return what do you do? You fall asleep like some cheaply refurbished lemon", Bitchy pouted and then looked down at hir golden prey, which was trying to rock itself out from under hir with its hood and trunk. "Now, why can't you be more like this cute little beast. It may not be nearly as long or well armored as you are, and it probably lacks your strong engine and heated exterior, but I bet it's a better yiffer than you are." 

In response to this, the limousine tinted its windows to opaque, and the sedan stopped honking, but continued to try to get away. Bitchy decided to help the sedan by getting on top of it, and rocking it back and forth with hir own body weight, which made it close its hood and trunk and stop spinning its wheels, but not cut its engine. Next, she stood up on top of it, jumped on it lightly a couple of times, and then jumped up as high as she could and cannonballed back down onto it. The center of the sedan buckled in slightly, the windows shattered outwards, and the sedan was once again blaring its horn. After flipping off of it, she tackled the passenger side of the sedan, ripped the doors off on that side, and started pushing and scraping hir way into it. The sedan was powerless to stop hir from ripping its lush interior to shreds and mangling its cabin's frame. All the vehicles on the street were very upset by this, blaring their horns at hir, but none would dare interfere as she studied hir disfigured mate and then pissed on it. 

"Now, shall we continue, or will I have to yiff you just as passionately?", Bitchy cooed at the limousine. 

After a moment's hesitation, the limousine did turn back on, and with a satisfied nod, Bitchy remounted it, slipping its adjusted exhaust pipe back up hir juicy tunnel. Then, it shifted into gear and ran its engine higher and higher in an attempt to maybe eventually fill hir up and possibly pop hir. That was, of course, impossible at the speed at which its efficient ejection system was spouting methane at, but it was nonetheless determined, and Bitchy liked that a lot. At the most, hir puffing up looked like a high speed ripening, substituting minutes for weeks. 

This continued until a mud-caked, blood red, monster truck pickup came around the corner and hurled itself at Bitchy, popping hir off the limo's slick tailpipe. Moving with the sudden bump, the giant yifftoy quickly rolled back onto hir feet, keeping a tight hold on the excess gas, and tackled the pick-up, tossing it over sideways and off its wheels. Somehow, the pickup's roll bar allowed it to turn over completely and get back onto its four oversized wheels before she could back up far enough to pound it into and maybe through the nearest building. To say the least, Bitchy found this to be very, very amusing, wagging hir long, bushy tail excited as she let it get in a position to safely fight back. 

As Bitchy pawed the ground, the pick-up revved it engine, and both were ready to attack each other. Then, when the pick-up charged, Bitchy turned around, farted a dense hot fog, and used this smoke screen to rebound off the wall and end up behind the pick-up as it sped past hir. Not one to be outdone, the pickup quickly did a three-sixty spin and smacked Bitchy against the muzzle with the wench hook at the end of its quickly extended cable. After a quick yiff from the smack, Bitchy mrrred furodically, dove for and bit down on the hook, and started playing tug-of-war with the equally powerful pickup. 

Well, if this was Malady, then let the disease spread. She was just as playfully fun now as she ever was.

"Hey, Malady isn't bad at all, mister. She's just like Bitchy", I happily yipped as I let the panther place me back onto his lap. 

"That thing down there is not Malady, Freeze. Not yet", the panther answered bluntly, "Wait. Wait, and see." 

"Um. Okay, mister.", I replied skeptically, wrapping my bushy white tail around my body. 

Just as it looked like the pickup's oversized tires might have better grip and pull than Bitchy's claws and legs, she suddenly decided to charge at the pick-up. Then, when she was a little under a body's length to it, she pulled the line over hir body as she fell backwards onto hir back, sliding tail first into the pick-up as she inserted the hook into hir third hole. Next, she quickly rolled back over onto hir feet and took off running back in the other direction, clamping down tight on the hook and line. 

Unphased if not even more angered, the pickup gunned its heavy duty engine and a thick black cloud rose demonically from its dual overhead exhausts and its deep treaded tires. Bitchy, in response, let out a anal-retentive growl, and they continued in their game of tug-of-war until the hook finally popped out of Bitchy, revealing that she had managed to bend it into a harmless figure eight. They both went tumbling down the street in opposite directions; the pick-up crashing backwards into a building at the end of the street, and Bitchy stumbling over a hydrant as she pinballed down the street and finally slamming muzzle first into the building on the other end of street.

As the pick-up was trying to recover from its explosive rear-end collision, Bitchy bounced excitedly back onto hir feet, shook hirself off, and galloped greedily back towards the hydrant, which she lunged hir head at, and chomped to bits. Next, she laid down behind the jagged base of the hydrant, wrapped hir muzzle around it, and gulped down gallon after gallon of icy cold water, filling up hir stomach to near immobility like hir life depended on it. Hir hold on the hydrant seemed to be good enough that even when hir hands and feet started being lifted off the ground by the shear volume of hir load, she still wasn't spilling a drop of water. At least she didn't until the pickup finally decided to plow into hir head. 

There was about a second pause as Bitchy switched hir gears from suck to blow, and then a pickup found itself in one of the most powerful pressure washes of its existence as she opened hir mouth wide and projectile vomited hir entire contents in a matter of seconds. Then, while it was still stunned over suddenly being clean, she tackled it, flipped it over onto its roof, ripped off its rear tires, inserted its drive shaft up hir tunnel, and started bouncing on the thick, gear-headed rod. Hoping for one last attempt to hurt the giant yifftoy, the pickup angrily spun its shaft. Bitchy yiffed and moaned to climax, howled as slammed hir claws through the pickup's doors, hir member shot out and blew apart the front axle on its journey to fullness, and she crushed the truck bed to half it's width with hir thighs. Finally, there was thunderous grinding, the entire pickup shuttered, and the entire engine area exploded into a massive cloud of flames and shrapnel. 

Bitchy's furotic moans quickly turned into a blood curdling scream as every manner of sharp metallic object slashed and stabbed into the underside of hir member. Blow off the pickup, she just laid there wailing on hir back as it looked like she'd been yiffing a cheese grater, staple gun combo. I took one look at it, was overcame with a nauseous feeling of vertigo, and passed out with the feeling of my last meal surging up my throat. ************* 

When I finally came to again, Bitchy was sitting on what was left of that jagged hydrant base with hir member safely tucked inside hir blood-stained pouch and a musky river of body warmed water running out of hir tunnel, around hir, and down the street. She looked more contented than anything else, which, considering what she had put hirself through, was a pretty good recovery. 

Once she'd soothed hir insides enough, she softly yiffed as she looked up at the police helicopter that had left to who knows where earlier when it was just me, the panther, and a huge mob of volunteer police officers. When the helicopter put a spotlight on hir, she growled playfully at it, stepped over to the center of the street, dropped to all fours, bent down low with hir rear in the air, swaggered hir hips, and rocketed up at it. Though they were at a safe distance up, they were still caught off guard by hir jumping abilities, and buzzed around the bouncing yifftoy like a drunken hummingbird, always just out of hir reach. 

Bitchy's ability to rebound off the sides of buildings like a rubber ball and leap really high from rooftop to rooftop, though neither were sturdy enough to maintain their structure afterwards, played havoc with the helicopter pilots, building occupants, and curious furs on the street. Like uprooted dust, wherever Bitchy went, furs seemed to come out of the woodwork. 

Probably realizing that she was finally drawing a crowd onto the open street, Bitchy suddenly dove off the roof of a distant building, and out of our line of sight, though hir belly flop landing didn't escape our hearing or vision of movement. The helicopter immediately turned to being a position marker again, and the panther took me off of his lap. After getting up and stretching, he checked the buttons on his overcoat, scoped out his surroundings, dropped back down onto all fours, pulled up beside me, and motioned for me to get on his back again.

"If you want to continue watching your beloved freak of nature in action, Freeze, get on", the panther stated bitterly, and helped me onto that dark thick overcoat of his. The one that repelled bullets like it was military armor. We were in a very awkward position for getting off a building that he had to use a wrist mounted grappling gun to get onto. "Hold on tight, Freeze. Unless you prefer to die before you witness how twisted Seymour really is. Your choice, Freeze." 

Okay, that's not a good thing. 

As I dug all my claws into the pliable cloth, the panther slipped to the edge on the roof, looked over at the street below, and then dove over the edge. Louder than the sound of the freezing wind blowing by us as he ran down the wall, was the scream of panic that came out of my mouth. Why the hell had he done that? He was exceptionally quick and agile, but unless he had some sort of glider also under that coat... well, no, he had made sure he had buttoned it up. 

No! Please! I didn't want to die yet! 

I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable splat, but instead there was a grunt from the panther as he shifted his weight and body under me. Then I felt my claws almost being ripped from the panther's coat as we changed directions, so I dug in harder with all fours as there was another grunt and bump, and when I finally opened by eyes, we were flying down the middle of the street. 

Well, now we weren't literally flying, but this panther did have one exceptionally fast running speed, so we seemed to come very close to doing so. Maybe he's part cheetah, just like Bitchy could have been part kangaroo. His hybridness was much more possible than hirs, but she was a yifftoy after all. Well, whatever momentum he had gotten from the building dive was definitely not being wasted now. My eyes were burning and watering from the cold, and it felt like if I opened my mouth to scream, I'd puff up like a garbage bag and be pulled away from him. Heh. Ooo, yeah, that might be pretty cool, actually. Me, the fur windsock... or balloony. Then again, no, it'd probably hurt like hell being inflated that fast. Even Bitchy probably couldn't take that much pressure that fast, and she's as elastic as they come. 

Oh, my. Speak of the yifftoy. 

As the panther slowed to a reasonable pace and turned a corner, we found Bitchy riding a local bus, which was either thinking, "Ooo, yeah, baby! Do me harder! Do me harder!" or "Oh Gawd! Oh Gawd! Oh Gawd!" Considering the gaping hole hir scarred member had become wedged into, and the friction she's putting on it to make it more pliable, I'd have to bet on the second one. Buses weren't nearly as user friendly to yiffy macros as passenger vehicles, it seemed. 

Seeming to have gotten hirself stuck or finding the friction too painful even for hir, Bitchy proceeded to try to crush the big bus like a soda can, pulling it towards hir window by window. For once, she was actually outclassed in many ways by hir mate of the moment. She would have to put a lot of effort into this one. The ever crowding street was filled with the sounds of gawking furs, twisting metal, and the shear yiffiness of the situation. Some furs were even inspired to do little street side orgy shows. Why waste the moment, right? Even weirder than that was the light delicious smell that started to fill the air. It smelled almost like that of baking cookies. Faint, but distinctly out of place, and, as Bitchy got closer to climaxing, grunting and growling as she worked the bus around hir member, the scent got a bit stronger. For all the time I'd been in and around hir, I'd never noticed until now that she had a musk, and such a delicious one at that. Weird. 

Then, with a deafening yiff from the overstuffed macro vixen, Bitchy dumped out every bit of spooge she had into the back of the bus, sending a river of spooge coursing through it. Judging from the mostly windowed doors, the spooge level in the bus was about ankle deep to the average adult fur, which, considering the length of the bus, was still a considerable amount. Needless to say, she was very disappointed. I was quite sure that she would have preferred to somehow been able to fill the bus up completely with spooge, making it surge against the bus's windshield, then frothing back until I could see exactly what I must have looked like when I was in hir little spooge torture chamber back at the theater. That probably wouldn't have been good enough for hir either. Most likely, she would have preferred to be able to blow all the bus's windows, sending spooge shooting out of it like a massive fire hydrant. 

Well, neither one of those things happened, so after sarcastically growling in disgust, and then bear hugging the bus, Bitchy yanked hirself out of it, and then jammed hir slender muzzle into the hole like she thought that hir entire body would slip right through. Then, wagging hir tail excitedly in anticipation, she firmly grabbed the bus as far up its sides as she could, and then by using hir rigid member as a jack and then a means of balance; she employed a scarily bionic amount of strength and managed to lift the entire bus over hir head. As the bus went vertical, all the furs inside fell from between the seats and dropped into hir spooge pool and all over each other, and then, as a whirlpool formed in it, spiraled down into hir wide throat. The occupants hadn't gotten out when they had had the chance, and actually a couple additional furs had gotten on during the initial ordeal, locking the airtight door closed behind themselves, so now they were all going to be Cream of Fur, chunky style. Bitchy's favorite treat. 

Bit by bit, Bitchy's semi-taunt belly started expanding yet again as spooge-greased furs swam, slid, or were sucked down hir wide throat. For pleasure and for accommodation for the growing load, hir stomach quickly started becoming more and more elastic. First, it was a cute, little potbelly. Then, it started looked more and more preg, crawling farther and farther up towards hir neck, until it took up hir entire underbelly and finally lost all structural integrity altogether, having to be supported by hir now forty-five degree upright member, which looked hungry for another bus. Whipping hir massive, fiery tail up, and out of the way, Bitchy plopped down backwards into a relaxed sitting position on the street, and shook the last of the bus's contents down hir deep, wide throat. Then, she whipped out that super long tongue of hirs and, while ripping the bus open like a milk carton, proceeded to remove all traces of spooge from the bus's plush interior. As I had said earlier, she always cleaned up after hirself, even if it meant destroying what she was cleaning in the process. 

After the bus was done, Bitchy let it drop heavily behind hirself, rolled over, pushed it out of reach, then rolled back over onto hir back and casually examined hir bloated belly as the mutilated and violated vehicle self-destructed in the mist of the scattering crowd of onlookers, causing a brief but noticable nervous shutter from Bitchy. As far as hir insides went right now, the fur to spooge ratio was probably two to one, maybe even three to one. As the crowd slowly settled again, she clutched and massaged hir massive gut, as hir occupants jockeyed each other around for air room. If she really was still Bitchy, she would have left or put air in there, if only to get some movement out of them. As for movement from Bitchy, she looked like if she were to get onto all fours, she might still be able move somewhat around, but there'd be a lot of belly chafing and a whole lot of rocking and rolling involved. If a fur poked his or her head against the top or upper front of Bitchy's massive stomach, she'd bop it with a paw, and then continue scritching and massaging hir belly, contentedly considering hir next action. 

Things seemed to be slowing down now, either because Bitchy might have actually outdone hirself this time, or she was just creating suspense. After moving hir long, bushy tail around, down, and between hir pudgy legs, Bitchy flopped down from a sitting position with hir massive belly clutched tightly between hir paws, to rolling from side to side on hir back, hir member annoyingly out of reach and ditty-bopping under its own persuasion. Now she did look completely immobilized. 

"Hey! Where are we going, mister. I want to stay down here with Bitchy", I whimpered as the panther fired his wrist mounted grappling-gun up at the roof of the closest building, and then when it caught, picked me up by the scuff of my neck. 

"You would", the arrogant panther scoffed and then surveyed the crowd around us. With a hiss of contempt, the panther raised me to eye level with him, holding me out to arm's length, and stated, "But then again, why should you be any different than any other fur? Why should you be any different than what you call the 'high and mighty'? Do you really want to stay here in the crowd, Freeze? Okay. You can stay right here. You can die right here." 

Of course, once he'd insensitively dropped me onto the snow packed ground, I wasn't able to see much of anything from between all the other fur's legs. I whimpered both because I was now in a lot of pain from instinctively trying to break my fall by landing on my legs, and if any other high and mighty saw me like this, I'd be as good as dead. They'd kick me around and Bitchy wouldn't even know I was there. She was currently in no position to help me if they did attack me. 

"Okay, mister. You win. Wherever you want to take me", I whimpered, tears of pain and sorrow rolling down my cheeks. 

"Riiight", the panther concluded, putting me on his back again and then starting the climb up the side of the building. 

Damn, I wish I could walk again. If I could move like this panther, I would never have been in this situation in the first place. I could have outran Bitchy when I had needed to. I could have gotten back to Seymour and gotten his help in getting Bitchy in a little more comfortable position. It would have at least been a fair game of Hide and Eat. Oh well. Life's never been fair before. Why should it start being so now? 

Bitchy had finally decided to roll over onto hir stomach again, but that meant that hir member was now stuck underneath all that weight. Then, she used it as a jack again, pushing hirself back onto hir hind legs and keeping hirself upright. Now ready to move on, she clutched hir now silent belly and started kneading it downwards. Hir stomach responded by tightening up, and as all the spooge was removed, I was able, even from where I was now, to see the outlines of the collective bodies inside of hir. It was like looking at some weird and... well weird, art piece. A gruesome centerpiece of happy souls. Then, Bitchy playfully poked at them all inside of hir, maybe counting, maybe seeing if anyone was still alive and kicking, and then, with a wild yiff, compacted the contents into a much less haunting shape. Next, she put a bit of slack into hir belly, shook hirself to loosen up the contents, looked at all the furs around hir in sly satisfaction, and then shook hirself harder, almost like she was drying hirself off. Hir still rigid member became a big inconvenience when she did this, as it always wanted to go in the wrong direction, so she finally pounced on it, grabbed it, rolled onto hir back, and wrapped hir tongue around its glistening head, drawing it into hir shark-toothed mouth. 

As I and the other onlookers watched all of this with mixed feelings, Bitchy growled playfully as she scratched at and gnawed on hir member, like it was some ordinary chew-toy. Either she no longer had any feeling in that area at all, or masochism was another one of hir weird qualities. Hir tail wagged excitedly as she rolled around on the street, trying to swallow hir scarred and newly bleeding member. In response, hir member started growing larger and larger in an attempt to overpower hir and close up its wounds, and hir six-pack starts ballooning out at an even faster rate to get hir weight well settled so she could overpower hir member. Considering the size of hir overstuffed and now fairly jiggly belly, there was a lot of space for hir growing breasts to play on. Not wanting to be left out of hir appearance, hir nipples quickly joined the charade by thickening and trying to get as far away from hir center of gravity as possible. As a prelude to the inevitable cannon round from hir tugging member, she started leaking tiny fountains of milk from all six nipples, and hir thick and hungry welcome mat was leaking musky hydraulic fluid all over hir jack hammering legs. 

Not being able to stand back and watch this solo event of red, white, black, and blue go on any further, several furs ran up to hir and attempted to relieve the blown pressure on hir breasts, only to end up just opening hir floodgates. Another fur, I'd guess someone that didn't know hir very well, had gone for and into hir over saturated mat, only to get washed, fluffed, folded, and then spit out in travel size. The six furs that wrapped their maws around hir thick, wet nipples, got a sudden mouthful of milk, and reeled backwards choking as milk geysered out of Bitchy like a furry hydrant. Mrrring, Bitchy opened hir mouth to gasp with pleasure, and hir muzzle got bitch-slapped (hee hee) by hir throbbing member. Hir head ended up hitting pavement, and the initial spooge shot from hir supercharged member shattered a second story window. I was impressed. Even when wounded, she could still get power out of it. 

Yiffing away, Bitchy let hir main gun go through its rounds for a few seconds and then tried to grab for it, couldn't, and so rolled over onto it again. It was still unloading, so as she wrestled and rolled around with it, trying to bring it back under hir control, she started making a very big, gooey mess on the street and all the other furs. Then, all of a sudden, she started pouncing on the onlookers, chasing them down, and slurping them up. A few were smart enough to run away, but I noticed that most of the furs that had been just standing around watching, and were now blotched with spooge, continued to stand around and let themselves be swallowed. A couple of them even tried to play hero and jump in after their buddies. High and mighties always acted so stupid and weird.

The next few minutes consisted of Bitchy pouncing on furs, running in circles, bopping furs around with hir paws and hir member, squirting furs with hir nipples and member, and or playing with hir nipples, member, and tail. In between all this, she snatched up a few furs, and one at a time, stuffed them headfirst into hir equally elastic member and fired then at the building walls, turning them into bleached modern art. When they took longer and longer to fall off the walls, I figured that Bitchy was changing hir propellant from paint to glue. When they were no longer able to become unstuck, she growled, pounced at, and gulped them down straight from the wall. She seemed to not even notice or care that she kept on ramming hir muzzle and scraping hir teeth on the walls every time she did that. 

To say the least, this was weird. She was acting like, no, worse than some overgrown pup. 

Actually, she looked like an overgrown pup, too. 

Instead of getting bigger proportionally, or all the furs going as fuel for hir multiple guns, she was getting fatter and fatter instead. It had been collecting on her arms, legs, face, and neck, as well as her stomach and rear. It never got to the extent of being a sickeningly blobbish layer of fat that would hinder hir from being freely yiffy. It was, well, puppy fat. 

Probably, if she were to become a hideous, round blob of flesh, I wouldn't love hir any less. I mean, I didn't seem to be at all disgusted by hir completely male and physically normal counterpart, Seymour, becoming so, but I'd probably lose interest in hir immobility, and maybe even hir in general if she decided to remain that way for too long. 

Gawd, that would probably be my biggest fear right there. Bitchy had become just about everything to me. Actually, she seemed to have had to become everything to me to get me yiffy and want hir as my life long mate. If the most extreme yifftoy in the world didn't make me glad to be a fur, then what was there? Why should I bother with this life? 

Crystal and Mother, of course, but I would never again be happy. I needed Bitchy, and I needed Bitchy to need me. To be complete, I needed them all. I wonder what Crystal and Mother were doing right now. I wonder if they're watching this on television. 

Hi, Mother. Hi, sis. My mate's a serial killer and I love hir for it. I'll be home after she's finished committing genocide. I love you. 

The normally incredibly beautiful vixen below me had becoming a giant, portly, young, even more beautiful vixen with a lusciously jiggly body all over. Hir full six-pack screamed to be suckled as it bopped around with every movement she made. Hir thick and fluffy welcome mat, which could probably draw water from a stone, continued to do the vorish drooling, so that hir mouth was free to grin and pant. To the relief of most of the furs in the area, hir monster woody had finally retreated back into hir pouch until she looked almost female again, though no less threatening. Actually, the way the fat lightly rolled under hir pelt on hir gut, I couldn't see the opening to hir pouch or the light bulge of hir passive member any more. If I didn't know that it was still somewhere inside of hir, though maybe trapped within as it got repaired, I'd think that she'd made hirself completely female for some reason. 

She looked like a big, plump vixen, and loving every minute of it. No, she was more than that. Hir attitude was more than that. Hir tail wagged excitedly as she tossed hir yellowish mane of headfur every which way. Hir ears were pricked. Hir one blue, one green eyes twinkled excitedly. She was panting like someone had locked hir in an overstocked meat shop. 

Well, that made sense. That's exactly how most vores saw the world anyway, right? And the bigger they are, the hungrier they are. 

On the updraft of a passing wind came the distinctive scent of butterscotch. A faint odor, considering how far we probably were from its source, but a sweet smell nonetheless. Even more delicious than the baking cookies musk Bitchy had been emitting before. As I sniffed deeper, it brought back memories of Seymour's peppermint breath, and then how he'd maintained a sort of minty halitosis as he fed us from his limousine and saved Mother from near death. Then again, he'd also made it so that when she got hot or cold flashes, so did the area around her. If Mother had woken up yet, she was probably scared as hell, and without me to comfort her. Damn this panther. Anyway, now I was watching a degenerated and gender specific Bitchy waddle around, carrying a screaming tigress in hir mouth by her tail, and the air smelled sweetly of butterscotch. The scent must be overpowering down there if I can smell it way up here, and it's only getting stronger. I'm surprised I can't visibly see it misting off of hir luscious body. 

"Oh my Gawd", I whispered when I saw the tigress's tail when Bitchy finally let her go. 

"Heh", is all the panther said in response, and I wished he was in the tigress's place. 

There was no safe area when it came to Bitchy's shark teeth. You either touched them and got cut, bad, or you missed them completely. There just wasn't any middle ground. Usually, Bitchy used hir lengthy tongue as a guard against them, but not this time. The tigress had been held up by Bitchy's teeth alone, so she was doing the tigress a favor now to pounce on her and slurp her up. 

She was definitely starting to get sloppy with hir work. I was going to call down to hir and ask hir why she'd done that, but then she went ahead and did something even freakier. 

After the tigress was gone, Bitchy eyed her non-intruding mate, licked hir chops lustfully, and let out a loud belch right in his face. The tiger yiped and doubled over like he had just been kicked in the groin, which made hir tail wag that much harder as she bounced hir weight from one side to the other in anticipation. Next, she sniffed him, and then once he'd managed to stand up again, she reared back like she was about to pounce him or ram him into the side of a building, but instead, let out a louder, longer, juicier belch. With a painful scream, the tiger fell backwards onto the ground, hyper extended his back, and his excited member ripped his pants' zipper and spooged away. Though it was interesting to watch, I would definitely not have wanted to be him. 

Dumb-struck, I looked up at the panther and he explained it all with one, disgusted word. "Malady." Then as Malady belched at a couple more male furs, forcing them violently out of their pants and trousers with hir breath, the panther went a little deeper into the yifftoy's history. "Well, if you want to call it by its given product name, Freeze, its a Malady DeBauchee, serial number V-520, experimental ultra-yifftoy. Subject to more glitches than it's worth, and almost completely uncontrollable. Thankfully they realized this on the first one, but they were idiots for making that thing in the first place. Their biggest act of stupidity, though, was to allow it to continue to exist after the initial tests had been done on it." 

"What do you mean 'glitches', mister?", I asked cautiously as Malady suddenly attacked one of hir prier victims, taking him inside in two quick bites before turning towards the largest section of the gathering crowd, belly-flopped on them, and then playfully rolled around right on top of them, smearing blood into hir fiery fur. "She's a yifftoy, not a machine, mister." Though it'd be nice if she had an off switch right about now. 

"What is the difference, Freeze? They are both mass produced by competing corporations, and intended to be programmed to be as user friendly as possible. With yifftoys, it is genetic coding and subliminal messaging that make them what they are, but there is always those creators and designers that just do not know when enough is enough, and end up making something that was never suppose to be seen by the public. Something that was never suppose to exist at all. A product so destructive, it and its creators must be wiped out for the safety of the entire furry population", the panther hissed as he looked angrily out into the horizon. "That is why experimental yifftoys are tested and graded by other, publicly approved yifftoys. You would think, Freeze, that if a newbie consistently went out of its way to make its mates disappear by any and all means possible, that it would surely be flamed." 

Below us, Malady charged an expensively dressed rhino and pushed him and a couple other furs right through the building's sturdy exterior. A couple seconds later, she made an exit for hirself and hir meal, tossed the rhino in the air, skidded to a stop, and swallowed him in one quick gulp. 

"A group of naively trailblazing techs thought that normal yifftoys, balloonies, cyber-plushies, and virtual yiffing was just not good enough anymore. They wanted something that could do and be everything. Anything that a yiffy fur could possibly think of had to be able to be done by their creation. Only that meant that they would have to throw out every fail-safe that had been set to protect the product's users from accidental or intentional death and dismemberment. It does all the controlling, abuses its abilities ad naseum, and most of all, it kills, frequently and systematically, all without guilt or fear of consequences", the panther hissed, as Malady whipped hir long tongue hard at a couple of fur's groins, throwing them backwards. Before they could even come close to recovering, she whipped hir tongue around their heads one by one, and threw them into hir open mouth. "And it is all Seymour's fault." 

"Mister. Why do you keep saying that? You just said that she wasn't controllable. He can't tell hir what and what not to do all the time, mister. She probably chose him, not the other way around," I argued weakly as Malady mauled an opossum senseless with hir tongue before thrusting him into hir mouth with it. 

"Riiight", the panther growled and then looked angrily down at Malady, who momentarily rolled over, probably to try to finally clean hir back off. 

"Yeah", I whispered as I looked away momentarily. 

Why, Bitchy? You're playing right into his hands, and I was in no position to stop him from killing you or Seymour. 

Something suddenly caught my eye and I looked back down at the runaway yifftoy. With nothing but living, breath furs outside of hir, and a belly that once again touched the ground, Malady rolled over into the middle of the street, and, on hir back, started scritching hir belly and panted passionately. For some reason all I could think about now was that overloaded six-pack of hirs; full of sweet milk and just asking to be sucked. Hir nipples just cried, 'Put your muzzle here.' My stomach started growling as I started to feel like a newborn pup with this teat fixation. As hir body rippled and bounced with hir scritching, my eyes followed every movement of hir nipples. My mouth watered as the nipples glistened. Like a subtle fountain, some escaping milk trickled out of hir middle right nipple and disappeared into hir soft, silky, milk-colored underbelly. 

Wow. 

"You are only half right, Freeze, for you see, its creation was partly funded by your beloved Seymour. If they destroyed the end product, they would not get the over abundant backing for their next, much more sinister project. As the saying goes, Freeze. For the love of money", the panther stated as he let me inch off of his lap and closer and closer to the edge of the roof. Good for Seymour. Now, if only there was a way to get to those thick, juicy nipples of hirs. "It just sickens me to know that furs are capable of creating such a perverted freak of nature. It is a vile disgrace to furdom, Freeze... and so they died before they could create a worse one, as soon will it and its funders." 

"Can we go back down there now, mister?", I asked tersely, as I looked down over the edge of the building. "If you don't get me down there yourself, I'll just jump and let Bitchy catch me." 

"Riiight", the panther growled as he got up and crossed his arms. "You make it sound so simple, Freeze. Just fall off the edge and hope it catches you, right? Well, you better hope it even remembers you, or you will be more than sorry for falling in love with it. What if it does not even bother to make the effort to break your fall, Freeze? If you do survive hitting the ground that hard, which you probably would, being that you are so young and resilient, I am very sure you are going to wish you were dead", the panther stated and then leaned over me as I growled right back at him. With a tight, evil smile, he picked me up again by the scuff of my neck and held me out over the edge of the building. "But, what if it does try to catch you, Freeze? How will it be, do you think? In its mouth? Do you really think you mean anything to that glitched freak of nature now, Freeze? 

Look at it. It has been swallowing adult furs in bunches, Freeze. It would yiff a knothole in a tree if it was big enough and put up a good enough resistance. Do you really think you are even worth tasting? One furs a pill to it. What are you? Maybe, when it was smaller, you served some sort of purpose, though definitely temporary, but now. You, are, worth-less." 

"You're wrong, mister. She likes me a lot better than you high and mighties, and your vehicles. I'm...", hir mate? Hir friend? Hir favorite plushy? I started crying again as reality set in. I tried one more desperate whimper, just to see how it'd sound heard, "Special." It, too, was worthless. He's right. What fun could I possibly be to hir now? Maybe he should just drop me and end it all. "Okay, mister...", my voice faded into the cool night breeze. No, I couldn't give in to this high and mighty's mental torturing. Malady must still have some feeling for me. She is still Bitchy deep down, right? Bitchy likes me. I know that. She's proved that time and time again. Malady must, too. I hope. "I'll stay."

"Good choice, Freeze", the panther stated as he sat down again, placed me on his lap, and started stroking my head and neck as a sinister grin crept up onto his face. "So far, this has all just been what you would probably call foreplay, Freeze. Disgusting as it was. Yes. But now, now it is time for Malady to really disgrace Seymour's name." 

"No way, mister. Bitchy wouldn't do that", I argued, watching as she laid down, rolled over onto hir side, and started massaging hir silky, pearl white underbelly. 

"Oh yes, Freeze. That it would", the panther purred thoughtfully, "That it definitely would." 

As Malady mrrred and stretched, managing to put at least a little bit of space between each row of hir engorged breasts, a lioness, a stag, and a cuddly mini-lop, all noticeably marked by hir previous spooge attack, eagerly ran up to hir and wrapped their maws around the thick nipples of hir left column, gorging themselves on hir sweet milk until their clothes wouldn't let them drink any more. Once they'd had their fill and let go of hir, Malady rolled over onto hir stomach, and watched them stagger away, a toothy grin on hir face and a mischievous swish of hir tail. 

Then Malady turned hir head skywards as if she was about to howl, but instead she looked right into my eyes, and though they were the same one blue, one green eyes I'd fell in love with since the moment I met hir, they were piercing and void of any sign of yiffiness when I looked at them now. 

"Please, Bitchy. Don't do anything *YIPE*", I started and then threw myself off the panther's lap as I suddenly got a headache and a really bad case of heartburn. Moaning, I balled up, clutching my stomach in pain as the panther just sat there looking at me skeptically. "Ow! What'd you do to me, mister?", I moaned as the pain slowly turned from a burning sensation, to painful bloating. I felt like I was going to explode! "Damn it, mister! Stop this!" 

"Riiight", the panther growled as he turned me over onto my back with my head away from him, clutched me by the throat with one hand, and started kneading my stomach with the other. After burping the pain out of me, he turned me over, and sat me up on his lap again. "So much for that saying that ignorance is bliss. Aye, Freeze?" 

"That wasn't funny, mister. What'd you do to me?", I barked, my stomach still feeling a bit uneasy. Ever the butterscotch smell was starting to make me feel nauseous. I felt like if I ate anything now, I'd puke. Damn this panther. He must have drugged me or something to turn me against Bitchy. 

"Freeze, you have no idea what is going on, do you? I played no part in what you just went through. Just as I have nothing to do with what those furs below us are going through", the panther hinted with a toothy grin as he directed my attention to the street below. "All I did was help you through the initial shockwave, and possibly saved your life from Malady's intentions." 

"Shockwave, mister?... Malady?", I softly asked as I leaned over his lap so I could see the action better, my mind and stomach doing back flips. As the butterscotch scent increases slightly, a song lyric came to mind. 

The answer, my friend. Is blowing in the wind. The answer is blowing in the wind.

As the stag started going on a yiffing rampage, the already well-busted feline purred and furodically undressed her top as she became ever so more well busted. Then, slowly, she realized that they were not going to slow down in their growth, and were becoming uncomfortably heavy on her equally tapering frame. Staggering backwards and whimpering from the growing pressure out and down, she leaned against the side of the closest building and caterwauled. The males around her whistled and cheered at her dreamy appearance, and then finally a couple of them came to her aid. As she slid down into a sitting position, waiting for her breasts to explode and relieve the intense pain, males lined up to suckle her dry. She did eventually stop growing and, I guess, ran out of milk, but now she was left with enormous, heavy, sagging breasts to be supported by a super-model petite frame. As a fur that preferred my mate to be cuddly soft, she looked somewhat anorexic to me. 

Testing the strength of her bones, the lioness finally decided to try standing up again, and watched as hir gown slipped right off of her, enticing more whistles and catcalls. From muzzle to tip of tail, her pelt was flawlessly tight, accenting that much more the size and looseness of her massive breasts. Okay, she was exceptionally beautiful, but other than modeling for static poses, what could she possibly get out of this? She was going to need a shopping cart to carry those watermelons, no, more like pumpkins. Well cared for, very heavy, silky furred pumpkins with soft, juicy stems. 

I guess, hoping it'd help the lioness in some way or form, one of the males started feeding her. In some way, maybe it did, but definitely not in any way she would have preferred. Her body chemistry having been changed dramatically by Malady's influence, the lioness's body almost immediately started processing the food and sent it straight back into her breasts. Once the males found out that this was happening, they started stuffing more and more food down her throat against her will, to get her really pumped up. 

Through a process of filling and relieving, they got her so big that the rest of her body was completely hidden behind her massive, silky milk sacks. 

Whether or not she liked being a permanent street side display, I wasn't sure, but, for now, that was exactly what she had become. 

At the same time, that stag who had also drank from Malady now found himself severely stuck in his newest mate. The hawk he was in wailed as if her foot was in a grinder as the stag looked equally distressed. His hyper-generating hormones and spooge ripped his pants in two and started spreading his legs. I figured that his sacks weren't the only thing that were growing out of control, and it brought back a disturbing memory. The hawk was going to be subjected to the same torture as Johnny Fullcock, and I really didn't feel like watching it this time either. It's bad enough I had to hear the screams and mutilation before and this time, too. I turned my head towards the panther's chest and started thinking that, yes, this was getting out of hand. 

"Can this be stopped without killing hir, mister?", I whimpered, starting to feel sick again. 

I decided to massage my own stomach this time, because the panther tended to do things much too roughly. 

"Stop what, Freeze? Nothing has happened. Yet", the panther hissed with an evil, tight-lipped smile. 

What the hell? Is he for or against hir? Damn this panther and his high and mighty games. I'm not sure I want to watch Malady play anymore if the panther is interested in it also. It can't be good, or all that yiffy. 

"Believe me, Freeze. You will be begging for me to destroy that freak of nature by the time this is all through", the panther hissed satisfactorily. 

"I really doubt that, mister." Or at least I hoped I didn't. 

The panther turned my head towards the rabbit, who was taking her last, quick gulp of some muscular feline. A robust male that looked like, under normal circumstances, would have snapped her portly body up without a moments thought and an insignificant amount of effort. A very cute twist considering that there wasn't anything around for a herbivore to bulk up on normally. 

The world was, after all, one massive, everything incrusting, non-coastal city that had expanded outwards as much as physically possible and was now starting to expand upwards as well as, on the ocean top sections, downwards. 

Dotted far between the groups of sometimes mile high buildings were various park-like private properties of such extremely rich and powerful furs like my mother's mate, Seymour. Furs that, just on a whim, could have one of the hundreds of thousands of fur-made satellites permanently hidden behind the cloud cover vaporize a small neighborhood and increase the size of their own property. What kept these organic sections of land alive was beyond me, since this all boiled down to minimal light and almost no heat anywhere outside, so vegetation in any large quantity or variety outside of the oxygen factories, their numerous warehouses, the more and more rationing herbivore grocery stores was almost none existent. All of these places were under the highest security, making air, like water, the highest taxable item and herbivores in all but their special prey class, the thinnest furs around. 

Nevertheless, this mini-lop had been eating quite well since she'd drank from Malady. Her metabolism was working overtime, so she had busted every seam on her blue jeans and tee-shirt, and her fur hung out all over. After finally discarding all her clothes, she twitched her nose happily, slicked her ears behind her shoulders proudly with her portly paws, started searching for her next lunch, and then suddenly stopped. 

The caramel colored mini-lop looked nervously around and then looked at her belly, very much scared by something. She looked cute and huggably soft, very, very cushy and even more so plump. Her body bounced like a rubber ball in slow motion when she hopped and oozed over itself when she shifted her weight. She was no longer able to see her long, powerful feet, and could only touch her fingers from both hands together at the top of her massive belly, which probably gurgled like a bubbling brook. To say the least, she was an extremely tasty looking fur from a hungry carnivore's point of view, and right now I was both. Another carnivore, a canine of some type who seemed to have escaped the spooge attack and wasn't wearing clothes expensive enough to matter if he had or not, walked up to the overly plump bunny all too casually to want to pounce on her. When he stopped in front of her and I guess asked her what was wrong, she told him with a look of bewilderment. 

The, could be a coyote, looked her over with the tip of his tail flipping curiously, cocked his head to the side curiously, shrugged his shoulders, and then as he started to kneel down, she took one wide-eyed hop backwards as she let out a surprised squeak. Now she said something else a bit more irrationally as she waved her plump arms, and then pointed sternly at her stomach. He opened his mouth halfway in fear, shook his head as he seemed to get a grasp on the situation, bit his lip, took one step towards her, and she yiped, wobbled, and fell over. 

Ooo, now this was getting interesting. 

As the canine walked back and forth, talking to himself, or maybe her indirectly, she slowly got up, yiped, took two hops backwards, one hop forwards, teetered, bit her lip, and then dove at the canine. He yiped, dashed away on all fours, stopped when he realized that she wasn't chasing him, and ran back towards her. With him standing over her head, she rolled onto her back, then one side, then the other, and then onto her back again. When she finally stopped shifting, he finally helped her back onto her feet and was grinning from ear to ear as he stared at her massive belly. They spent a moment looking at each other, the canine turned to do something else, the bunny yiped, bit her lip again, and next thing they knew, they were standing in something between a large puddle and a small steaming pond. 

The canine looked at it, then the bunny, shrugged with a silly grin on his face, and kissed her. Whoa, now there's an interesting family, the size of which was yet to be seen, but knowing Bitchy... 

Suddenly the mini-lop screamed, shot straight up into the air, it looked like she was holding a tornado in her womb when she landed, and then she did a combination flip barrel roll, and landed on her back, firing two tiny furs out of her gaping tunnel. Taken off guard, the canine teetered backwards for a moment, then ran on all fours to his mate's side. With whatever was going on inside of her, she ended up rolling on top of him and then he was on hir, the pups, bunnies, whatever, kicked, I'm guessing, and he involuntarily bounced on her, firing out another fur. His bunny mate looked like she was now opened up enough that the litter could sort of just fall out of her one after another if he didn't squeeze them out of her. He looked at the first one tumble away, looked at his bloated mate as he sat up on her, cocked his head to the side, he looked like he was one second away from total hysteria, collected himself again, sighed happily, and started riding her bare... belly. He bounced on her slowly at first as he tried to find a balancing point without holding onto anything, and then when he found it, he soon had her popping out furs so fast and consistently, it'd make a working class hen jealous. 

The mini-lop seemed to never have the same fur twice in a row, as she spit out everything from eggs to fawns to pups to kittens to colts. Neither one of them saw this, but the rest of the crowd did, and they were gulping them down as fast as she fired them out. Of course, she could only hold so many, though many they definitely were, but after it was all over, it was still just the two of them. Not immediately getting the situation they were in, the canine started to go look for their litter, and then saw the last one get eaten by a bear. After briefly cursing, he turned back to his mate, and cautiously explained about the fate of the fruit of their fun, she broke down into tears, and then he picked up her exhausted and downhearted body and walked away with her in his arms and her arms lovingly around his neck. >From the satiated look on his face, I had a pretty good guess that this was only the beginning for them. 

They reminded me of Mother and Seymour, only this canine came off as much more sane. He already had his world in his arms. I wished them luck on whatever came next in their lives and was glad to see that some good had come out of Malady's body control powers. "Well now. That was a one in a million circumstance, Freeze. No one really freaked out like they should have and neither died. Oh, well. Nonetheless, all the little furballs got eaten", the panther hissed, "and that is all that counts to Malady." 

"Yeah. Whatever, mister" They were in. They were out. They were in again. Nothing really lost there. Right? 

In answer to my doubt, the entire crowd around Malady suddenly went crazy with vore and yiffiness. Furs were swarming all over each other, and if it weren't for the demonic glow in the macro vixen's eyes and the fact that she did nothing but watch them carry on all around hir, I would have seen this as just high and mighty having fun. When furs started screaming and blood started dotting the mass orgy, I realized that Malady was an extremely literal name for this yifftoy and she was not here to have fun. 

In one spot, a large group of males slowly encircled a young doe, the look of lust towards her and competition between each other burning brightly in their eyes and stances. They all wanted to be the only one to yiff her by any means, but she stumbled around, looking scared and bleating. Had Malady's spell somehow worn off on her, or was their something else? Other females were nearby, but all the males in a short radius of her were now in an imposing fence around her, looking quite intent on getting under her skirt and at each other's throats. She had nothing to defend herself with other than her hooves, so when they finally attacked, she was quickly overpowered, and pulled violently to and on each of the uncaring males. The other males would immediately maul her very temporary mate, and then another male would be banging away in her before he was also trampled, kicked, slashed, beaten, punched, and ultimately killed. Unfortunately, the petrified doe also fell victim to some of these blows as well as the jerking and yanking of her ever changing mates, so long before her final mate was decided, she was nothing but a war ravaged meat plushy. When the heat of passion finally passed and the last male standing stumbled away, holding himself together, she was left lifeless on the street, her clothes torn to shreds and her body severely bruised and broken. The blood of every fur in the orgy flowed distinctly on the snow-covered street, forming a stream that oozed sadly to the nearest storm drain. 

As I laid high up above them, my mouth open but my mind void of thought, Gawd tried to soften the scene by sending gentle grayish off-white snow flakes that came down faster than the street could melt them. I just couldn't believe that Bitchy could orchestrate anything like what I had just seen, and everywhere else, similar actions were going on. 

In a few other spots, female furs suffered the same fate as the tigress had except that no males came to their aid and their breasts did not stop growing. All the meat and fluid was slowly sucked out of the rest of their bodies, and they were left as two giant boulders of flesh attached to a tightly fleshed skeleton. Their limp necks and sunken eyes making them look either completely mortified with their heads staring between the cleavage of their breasts, or eternally looking distantly and deeply into space, searching for a reason for their fate in the thick overcast of dark clouds. They almost looked like they could do the impossible. They could see the blackness of space and the twinkling stars unaidedly. They could stare Gawd in the eyes and ask him why he let hir do this to them. 

This was wrong. This was very, very wrong. This was just mindless torture. Who or what was this Malady? Why had Bitchy let this heartless creature take over hir body and soak hir name in blood and death? 

Over in front of a toy store window, as well as several other places, a couple was yiffing away like nothing else mattered. As they caressed each other passionately, sweat steamed off their bodies, soon masking their bodies in a sauna fog. Then the steam turned to light smoke, and just when they realized something was very wrong, fire. They tried to end it and run, but their hormones kept them tightly joined, and before they could think of an alternative plan, they were roasted into a small pile of Cajun meat that would be too dry and tough for any other fur to gobble up off the street. 

As I continued to survey the crowd, my eyes always ending up back at Malady's passive body as my stomach twisted up into a knot, pushing the taste of acid more and more onto my tongue. 

In a couple other places, furs were acting a bit more "normal" and gulped down their fellow furs with reckless abandonment. Before long, they were out of breath and out of stretchiness. That's when Malady turned the tables on them. The furs that should have been running if they had been chased, charged straight at them, dislocated their jaws, and climbed right down their throats. As the pudgy preds fell backwards onto the ground, wide-eyed and displaying mixed emotion, the prey continued to force their ways into the preds' stomachs. As fast as the prey came in, the preds' bodies broke the food down and started starfishing as layer after layer of blubbery fat surged in under their thickening pelts. Their skeletons not nearly as stretchy as the rest of their bodies, they soon became unrecognizable and then unmoving mountains of flesh and fur. No heads, arms, legs, or tails. Just an organ-crushing hill of meat that would later be just a snow-covered obstacle in the road. 

I started feeling lightheaded and though I very well would have liked to have puked on the panther's lap, all I could cough up were acidic burps. 

In an alley entranceway, a young, average looking zebra was yiffing an athletic looking blue jay. She furodically slipped down his light, black and white coat of fur, gave him the blowjob of his life, and soon enough he was spooging down her beak. Then he spooged on her face when she closed her mouth to swallow. Disgusted, she stepped back and wiped herself off, and he kept on spooging, and yiffing, and moaning. The blue jay thought this was very yiffy indeed, started tickling his member with her wing feather, and made him spooge every drop of his exceptionally large payload. Then his spooge turned from milky white to blood red. 

The blue jay screamed, but the zebra kept on yiffing away with his eyes closed and his hands stroking his rigid member. Once he'd geysered out at least a quart, he wobbled and fell unconsciously but happily to the ground. As he laid there forever lifeless, he continued to drain all the blood out of his body through his still rigid member. 

What's black and white and red all over? I wished I hadn't had to see the answer to that question. I wished I knew how to stop this. I wished Bitchy knew just how much this turned me off. 

Nauseously, I watched as the world twirled and shifted focus around me. I must have signaled how uneasy my stomach was, because the next thing I knew, I was halfway over the edge of the building, puking on the furs down on the street below. 

Here and there, the "member growing until it bored a hole right through the female incident was going on", and I was only slightly nauseated when, after the females were finally unhooked from the massive members, they showed signs of being clogged up. The veins on the males' members showed distinctly as the males screamed from what was probably white-hot pain. I imagined their members and/or spooge sacks exploding like bombs, but it was more like some invisible fur with a dagger suddenly stabbed their heavy members repeatedly, slit open both of their sacks, and then nicked and cut them all over their bodies, so that when they finally collapsed lifelessly to the ground, they were covered in fresh red and white fluid. 

I dry-heaved, and wished I was back at the mansion with Crystal and Mother. I felt air sick, run over, and extremely depressed. How could Bitchy be capable of such acts of mindless violence? Malady looked so pleased with hirself, just lying there watching the high and mighty kill themselves. No, they weren't killing themselves. She was killing them. My ex-mate was torturing them. Killing them with yiffiness. No, this wasn't yiffiness either. It was, well yes, yiffiness, technically, but it was way too violent to be acceptable. As if I was a good judge of what was acceptable or not. I mean, that's why I chose hir in the first place, but now... 

Gawd. Justifying this alone was giving me a headache. 

To Malady's right, a she-gator, or croc, or... well lizard, was ballooning up in her center as she attacked fur after fur. The difference between her and the mini-lop was that she had weaker legs, had thicker, tougher, and tighter skin around her womb, her mate had been the first one to go, and becoming immobilized by the weight did not stop her food supply from coming to her instead. The evil yifftoy wanted this one to go off with a bang. 

When the lizard's skin had gotten so thin that you could mistaken her for a translucent green gumball machine, the furs finally lost interest in her and she laid there moaning until the last bit of food had finally been turned into yet another soft-shelled egg, and her belly burst like a water balloon. 

To the interest of the furs around her, her jiggly, bluish-green eggs rolled and wiggled away from her in all directions. She either died of shock or some other related reason, because she never moved again after she popped. 

A few other furs succumbed to a slight variation of this fate, in that, instead of massive litters of tiny furs, fully grown furs of not necessarily the same species as their mothers frantically bit and clawed their way out of the furs' wombs, then turned on their mothers and got about halfway in consumed them before they themselves suffocated and died. 

I was a bit surprised to find that last type of yiffy death to be interesting. Almost poetic. I must have been starting to go insane or something. I wiped my mouth off, spit, and then looked over my shoulder at the panther. His rigid face showed nothing but elevated hate towards Malady. Now that I knew what she was capable of, I should be thinking the same things as he was, but I wasn't. I should have been thinking of a way he could get in close and kill hir, but I wasn't. I should have been asking the panther to take me away from this genocide. I should have been wondering why someone didn't come by and napalm hir. 

Could I possibly still have feelings for hir despite what I'd seen? If I did, then that'd mean that I was just as uncaring to others as a high and mighty was. If I didn't, then... I would never mate with another fur for as long as I lived, because no other fur could have meant as much to me as Bitchy used to. 

I could hate the vixen yifftoy below me, because she was not Bitchy. She only looked like Bitchy. She impersonated Bitchy and held hir prisoner in hir own body, torturing hir with these acts of violence as she tortured me with them. At least, I hoped Bitchy felt tortured and appalled also by these deaths. I hoped she wasn't yiffing silently over all this, or worse, really was Malady.

Okay, let's see. Here and there, quite a few furs were tonguing, nuzzling, and generally yiffing the cushy mats of their female mates. As the yiffiness between then got greater, they worked themselves harder and deeper into their mates, until finally the females climaxed and their mates snapped. Depending on their choice of intrusion, either their muzzle, pelvis, or tail snapped first, followed bit by bit by the rest of their bodies either up or down. It made me glad that I was only half their size and my mate had been able to stretch hirself at will to accommodate my entering hir. 

By the time the females had calmed down, they looked like they were ripe with fairly large litters and their mates probably looked like Spam. At first, the death and damage seemed to be mostly internal for just their mates, with the mates puking fluid out of every hole in their bodies as they were sucked in and compacted, but then, all of a sudden, the females bodies lost their structural integrity. First, their stomachs ripped open like a weak garbage bag, and I noticed that when they tried to move away in hysteria, they couldn't move the lower half of their bodies. If it weren't for a few other fur's eagerness to devour any lame fur they saw, these paralyzed furs would have probably led a very miserable life. Thank Gawd for scavengers. 

Also dotted within the grim orgy were furs that, once they'd finished yiffing and spooging either slid down to the street and fell into a sleep they'd never wake up from, even when they were being eaten and whipped around by other furs, or contracted the worse disease I'd ever seen. Right before my eyes, as the furs' pelts loosened and their eyes sunk in, all their fur started shedding off from their groins outward like mange. Soon they were left naked and old and completely exposed to the weather. Next, the furs' ears, tail, and the males' members shriveled up and fell off before their entire body was blackened and hardened by frostbite. Still, the furs' bodies did not seem to want to quit living. Fueled by some unholy determination, the undead furs staggered around until their limbs broke off, and they had to lay there quivering since no fur in or out of their right mind would consume them. 

"Stop this carnage, mister. Please", I finally moaned as the wrenching of my stomach sent painful spikes shooting down my spine and tightened an invisible vise on my head. "Whatever it takes, just end this. Please!" 

Some of the furs in the crowd had to swallow only one fur before they were struck with a malady. First, they started belching more and more, and then it looked like they were getting filled up with invisible furs as their bellies grew bigger and bigger. Then, I'm not sure if their pelts just came loose from their insides, or their meat just got less and less dense, but they started puffing up and starfishing from their round bellies outwards. What was taking up the excess space, I was not sure either, but by the time they were just head, paws, tail, and belly, they were also off the ground and blowing away in the cold wind. Right now they were either esthetic or surprised by their predicament, but if it was consistent with Malady's other forms of manipulation, they would continue to expand until they popped and or float upwards until they suffocated. Either way, I envied and felt sorry for them. At least for a few minutes longer they would enjoy their weightlessness. 

"So, Freeze. You see now why that vile creation must die. It has committed this act of genocide before, and once this is over, it will do it again and again, if it is not destroyed tonight", the panther hissed, stood up, and then picked me up once again by the scuff of my neck. 

"*YIPE* Let go!", I yelp, my pelt suddenly highly sensitive so that it felt like my neck was on fire and I would be beheaded by the weight of my own body. 

With a heartless chuckle, the panther dropped me back onto the roof and white lightning shot through my body. When that pain passed, I was hit with an aftershock as my stomach growled of emptiness. If I tried to ignore the gnawing hunger, then most likely the pin pricks of muscular pain would return. 

As the number of still living furs dwindled, there were several furs that stood out as either rabid or just plainly too overpowering for their chosen mates. They yiffed them hard, fast, and with complete disregard to their mate's health. They clawed, bit, pounded them against the walls and ground, and seemed to try to draw blood and bruises in as many ways as possible, as they tried to yiff them in as many ways as possible. They pinned their mates down when their mates tried to struggle, stuffed their muzzles down their mates' throats when their mates tries to scream, and made their mates', which tended to be smaller than they were, bodies imitate a pretzel. 

Once they were through with their fatally wounded mates, they themselves were dispensed with by one of the other forms of death. 

I felt as if I hadn't eaten in weeks. My mouth was dry, my stomach hurt worse than the rest of my body, and, if only to redirect the pain, I wished I could bite a nice big chunk out of the panther's foot. He was now standing beside me, distracted by the commotion below, so I briefly and painfully got onto all fours, wrapped by arms around his foot, and tried to sink my teeth into his ankle. The shooting pain and the popping of my jaw told me that I'd wounded more than just my back and limbs in the crash. The panther smugly looked down on me and then continued surveying what was left of the crowd. Nothing seemed to phase him and his aura of revenge. 

For all the quick deaths I was seeing below me, my slow degradation was far worse a fate, because it had put me at the total mercy of the perfect example of a normal high and mighty. Those high and mighties had damned me. 

Possibly forever. They had made it so that I couldn't even be a carnivore anymore. They'd bumped me all the way back down to the weaning stage. Mother would definitely care for me regardless, regurgitating chewed meat to nourish me, but I didn't want to live like this. Damn the high and mighty. Even the furs below me had the luxury of hunting and taking down their prey before they died ever so violently. They had the luxury of being able to run free and savor the taste of fresh, maybe even still living food. They'd stripped me of everything, teasing me with the most exotic mate imaginable only to turn it's qualities against me.

No, the high and mighties were trying to make me care for them. Pity them. 

Well, what about me? What about all the homeless furs you've slaughtered? 

What about all my brothers and sisters and my father? "When the cold, cruel environment you've thrown us into was wiping us out, did you pity us?", I growled through my pain, wishing I could rip the dark-hearted panther's foot right off. 

Without looking at me, the panther replied expressionlessly, "So, Freeze. Are you saying that your kind is no better than them, since you have the exact same morals, or are you saying that your kind is worse than them, since you are so willing to make a war out of it, ultimately destroying yourselves for your effort." 

I stayed silent. I didn't want to be a high and mighty, and I didn't want to invoke them and their high and mighty ways of reaction. I was very sick, tired, hungry, bruised, and all I wanted now was the warmth and comfort of my Mother's side. 

I don't know if I was dehydrated, too, or just couldn't cry anymore, for in reaction to my sorrow, my eyes started to burn irritably. 

I looked back down at the blurry crowd and saw the leftovers of a ravaged war zone. As Malady swept the area with hir toothy grin, admiring hir handiwork, lone stragglers stumbled around, nervously looking at the carnage and clutching their stomachs. Even under hir spell, they were too civilized to eat the plagued carcasses that readily surrounded them. Their stomachs were slightly distended, like they had caught some small fur earlier on, but had been lucky enough to make it this far in good health and without swallowing anyone else. Well, actually I wouldn't call them completely lucky. They were down there, and they had eaten someone, so soon enough they moaned and doubled over in pain. Bleating and yelping, they rolled around in the snow, clutching their stomachs, and then they let out a blood curdling scream that cut through me like a knife. Because their stomachs were giving off a lot of steam, I thought that they were going to spontaneously combust also, but then, when they finally moved their arms away, I noticed that it looked like a swarm of tiny furs were speedily writhing within them. Then it also looked like they were sucking in their stomachs until they looked famished. By that time, the fur on their stomachs had turned into a bubbling liquid which slowly collapsed and ate up the rest of their bodies. For their patience and luck, they had been rewarded with the longest and most disgusting form of death. Self digestion. 

At least you could still recognize the other furs when Malady's musk was through with them. 

"Well, Freeze. Are you, or are you not disgusted by what you see below you?", the panther asked forcefully, his gaze burning through me straight to my soul. 

"Of course, mister! You're the one that made me sit through it!", I snapped back, seeing that no matter whose side I was on, the gut wrenching pain in my body told me that this just wasn't right at all. 

The pain, the migraine, the blurred vision and nausea. It all said to be afraid and to get very, very far away. The only question was, why this panther was the only one that was completely unaffected by it? 

"Damn it then, Freeze. Do something about it!" the panther commanded with a violent hiss, snapping out his long, sharp claws. He could probably do just as much damage single-handedly, as Malady had done with hir reality warping musk. The musk that had licked and then left me alone, I think, and hadn't even bothered to taste the panther. "Stop that thing! Now!" 

If the panther was somehow immune to Malady's control, and he was so intent on killing, destroying, or whatevering hir, then why the hell hadn't he done something before she killed everybody? If he wanted to kill everybody, then why was he pretending to save me, and why was he having me do his job now? 

"Huh? Me, mister?", I asked stupidly, the idea that I was the one that was suppose to take hir down seeming very absurd, if not impossible. The lightning flash that shot down my spine told me that the panther must be mistaken. 

"Do you think I would be talking to myself, Freeze?", the panther growled loudly, pointing sternly towards Bitchy with a harpoon claw. 

"Oh, uh no, mister... Yes. Yes, if I can, I'd definitely like to stop hir... Um. Bitchy! Stop!", I howled as loudly as I could as I hobbled along the edge of the building and looked nauseatingly at the carnage below. 

"Bitchy! Malady! Stop this! Please!" Malady looked up at me, cocked hir head to the side curiously, and then panted happily up at me as she sat up, hir long, bushy tail rapping the ground and whipping furs away from hir. 

"Malady! Stop! I want my Bitchy back! Give me Bitchy!" 

Malady cocked hir head to the side again, yiffed, shook hir body, and then let out a thunderous belch as she riddled the side of this building with semi-intact furs from hir cavernous stomach. What was she trying to do? Cough hir up. 

A twisted smile momentarily creased my face and then the scene quickly got to me again. 

"Ewww *hic*... What the hell did you do that for?", I quizzed as a bad taste came to my mouth, making me turn away before my body tried to copy hir, twisting my body into a tighter knot. I ended up falling onto my back, and thankfully all that came up was a acidic burp. Looking up at the night sky, I found the panther standing over and looking back down me, looking disturbingly amused. 

"Yes. So you can. Interesting", the panther purred, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 

Why did I get the haunting impression that the panther knew just a little too much about this entire situation. 

"Can what, mister?", I asked as I slowly rolled over onto my stomach, my entire pelt feeling irritated by something. 

"If you knew what you were doing... Yes. This could be interesting indeed", the panther continued, clasping his hands behind his back and looking thoughtfully at Malady. 

"You're scaring me, mister", I stated as I painfully got up onto all fours and winced at the tingling on my pads and the throbbing of my muscles. 

Actually the panther was annoying and scaring me. 

"The fact that it listens to you at all this late in its stage is interesting enough. That in itself shows great potential indeed", the panther stated cryptically, with a sideways glance back at me. 

"Eh?" Of course she'd listen to me. Why wouldn't she? She... likes me. She still likes me. This just proves how wrong you are about me and hir, mister. 

The panther dropped to all fours, sat down a second or two after I did, and he commanded to me with a toothy grin, "Go on, Freeze. Make it take you back. Make it rescue you from me." 

I curiously looked down at Bitchy, then at the panther, and asked accusingly, "Rescue me? Why, mister? What's going to happen?" 

Straight-faced, the panther stood back up, shook his head slowly, and then hissed as a high caliber pistol popped out from inside both of his coat sleeves and into his open hands, "Hopefully, Freeze, you will live to regret questioning me." 

I don't know how he could have possible hidden those things without some sort of bulge showing up, but there they were and the barrels were pointed straight at my head. 

"Bitchy!", I yiped, instinctively jumping backwards. 

Not waiting for a response, I turned and jumped off the building. In a crisis like that, it was definitely possible to ignore any of and all the pain that cut through every inch of my body, especially since I could feel, as well as hear, the unloaded rounds just barely missing me. Malady saw me, yipped happily, jumped up at me excitedly, and snapped hir jaws shut around me on hir way up. I'd only gotten a few feet off the roof when she'd bit me out of the sky. Only, she wasn't satisfied with me just being in hir mouth, cushioned by hir tongue. She went ahead and swallowed me. She actually thought that the panther had thrown an after dinner mint out at hir. 

"No, Malady! Stop!", I screamed from within hir thick throat, fighting the wave of muscle that would have still been too tight for an adult fur. She had looked bigger on the outside, and I figured it to be the body fat difference between the athletic Bitchy and the portly Malady. "Let me out! Let me out!" 

I don't know if Malady landed as softly as she could or not, considering hir current state, because I wasn't injured any further on impact, but I was knocked off balance enough to find myself once again in hir stomach. Only this time, it was a very different experience from the last time I was in this part of hir. It would have been a whole lot bigger if it wasn't mostly filled up with furs, ingested spooge, and stomach acid. It was much more rancid and basically disgusting to all my senses. I didn't feel like staying here any longer than I had to and risk the possibility of getting dissolved, but the pain in my joints suddenly returned full force and, with a painful whimper from the white hot pain, I cramped up and laid there helplessly sinking into hir bed of victims. Was the fluid level rising also, or was hir stomach getting smaller? Or was it both? 

Oh Gawd! Malady's trying to kill me! She's purposely getting rid of my source of oxygen! 

"Ah, I see you really do not care who you eat do you, you vile piece of junk. You very well could have cushioned his fall with your body, but you chose to eat him instead. How typical. I was wrong about his usefulness, but that does not change a thing... You want to eat something, bitch. Eat me. See what a real fur tastes like rolling down your gruesome throat. Come here and show me your insides, bitch.", the panther taunted, using the word 'bitch' with hir in the same tone of voice that he'd used the word 'Freeze' with me. I was hearing his voice at a muffled whisper through hir body, so most likely he was roaring at hir, and I was forced to close my mouth and watch as my nose got closer and closer to going under. If she moved, I was dead for sure. "Well, what the hell are you waiting for, bitch? Eat. Me. Now!" 

"No, Bitchy. Don't do it", I moaned softly, using all my strength and willpower to start dog-paddling and keep my nose touching the roof of hir stomach, "He wants to kill you. He wants to kill both of us. It's a trick." 

Why did it have to end up like this? If Malady instinctively swallowed me, then what was there to stop hir from swallowing an obvious threat like this panther. We'd both die and he'd get away scott free. No, wait he did tell hir to eat him. Maybe she at least had a fighting chance and I think, if she's quick enough, I can stay at the top of hir belly. It's a big gamble, but I had to have faith in my mate's affection to me. Bitchy wouldn't kill me. Somewhere in that mind of hirs, Bitchy must still be alive and thinking hir sly thoughts. 

"Yeah. Chew him to *YIPE*", I whispered right before another painful cramp set in, making me cancel my encouragement with a yelp. 

Malady was all too eager to follow the panther's command, and lunged at the panther, sending a flurry of fur, bones, and sticky spooge all over me. She carried on as if I wasn't even there, and she suffocated me, made my body itch from the growing volume of acid, and made my body wish it could move, but unable to. This was a much different situation than the last time, and even if I was in good enough shape to swim to the top, there was too much solid debris and sticky fluid in my way and probably no air left to act as a goal. I was to be crushed, drowned, and digested by the fur I had loved more than even my own family. 

Somewhere outside of my airless prison, I heard a gunshot and the space around me briefly shuttered. If another shot was fired... If Malady moved at all after that... If Bitchy then realized that I was there... Whatever happened right after that never got the opportunity to register to my brain. 

Bye Mother. Bye Sis. I love you both. 

I'm sorry I did this to you.

The End?