FSE

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Happy autumn, everyone. We have entered spooky season, so here is a story that (appropriately, perhaps) ended up becoming a little bit darker than I originally intended. I will have more stories coming shortly, but in the meantime I hope you enjoy this one.

*WARNING: * This story contains rape, humiliation, coercion and other thematically troubling elements. If that is not your cup of tea, I have written some lighter, more pleasant stories as well and would encourage you to read them.

On the morning she was to meet her dealer, Rose awoke early and stepped out onto the balcony of her apartment so she could watch the sun come up. It was a frigid, blustery day, the wind frosty and crackling with the petulant beginnings of an early winter storm. Anyone else might have been chased back inside, but Rose stood comfortably with her paws buried to the wrist in the fur of her long, fluffy tail.

Such were the benefits of being a snow leopard.

Gray clouds had stacked upon the far horizon and the sunrise glowed from behind them, shooting streamers of crimson light across the sky. Below her, Rose could hear morning traffic grinding inevitably to a halt. The city she lived in wasn't quite so small that it ever slept, but the day's business had clearly now begun.

She stretched her arms over her head and yawned, wind whistling through her fangs. Early as it was, she would need to get going fairly soon. Besides, she could smell a tantalizing hint of coffee issuing from within the apartment.

Rose slid the balcony door shut behind her and went to the kitchen. It, like everything else in the apartment, was small and slightly cramped. A battered Ikea table, big enough to seat two (three if the occupants got creative), was wedged at an angle near to where the kitchen bled into an equally small living area. Everything was just a little bit cluttered, though this was more due to lack of space than any real messiness.

A drowsy raccoon sat at the head of the kitchen table, wrapped from neck to tail in a star patterned quilt. Behind her, the coffee percolator bubbled pleasantly.

"Morning, Mitzi." Said Rose, slipping past her roommate. The raccoon shivered at the chill wafting from her fur.

"Jeez," she muttered blearily. "I still don't know how you can do that."

"It's not so bad." Rose said, then casually slipped one paw down the back of Mitzi's neck. The raccoon jolted away with a yelp and spun in her chair, quilt hiked protectively over her head. Now all Rose could see of her roommate were a pair of amber eyes glaring distrustfully out from the dark. She snickered.

"That's not funny." Mitzi grumbled.

"Sugar with your coffee?" Rose asked. A moment passed, then she received a slightly grumpy nod from Mitzi. The raccoon mumbled a thank you when given her mug, then sank back into her quilt. Trickles of steam drifted up past her rounded ears. A pale, flickery glow told Rose that Mitzi was looking at her phone.

Rose drowned her own coffee in sugar and cream, then spent some time blowing on it. Before her, Mitzi's ears twitched.

"You're um...going to see the guy today, right?" She always spoke secretively when discussing the dealer, her whole bearing gone nervous and tense.

"Mmhmm." Rose took a careful sip of coffee, gauging the temperature. Mitzi always asked the same question, though she had to know the meeting schedule by now; every two weeks like clockwork.

The raccoon rummaged for a moment, unseen, then one dainty paw slowly emerged, holding a wad of bills. Her half. Rose accepted and tucked the money away.

"I'm sorry that I don't ever go with you." Mitzi said after a moment.

"Don't worry about it." Rose said, almost over top of her roommate's words. She'd heard the same sentiment a few times before, but couldn't really bring herself to feel any way about it. The raccoon was simply skittish. Probably best not to directly involve her in the meetings.

"I mean, at least you kinda know him..." Mitzi mumbled.

"We went to the same school. That barely counts." Rose said.

Mitzi sighed to herself and then was quiet. Rose could hear her claws clicking against the screen of her phone. Texting someone, maybe. Mitzi was always having a conversation, it felt like. Or having people over. Or inviting family. The apartment was never not busy outside of these quiet morning hours.

Sometimes Rose thought about the comparative silence of her own life and wondered what Mitzi thought about it, though she could never bring herself to feel bothered. Snow leopards were solitary creatures, subject to social entropy almost by default.

"I'm having Eli over tonight." Said Mitzi, as though reading her thoughts. Eli was her boyfriend, another raccoon who lived on the other side of the city. Whenever he came over he usually lingered for a few days. Rose reminded herself to locate her earplugs. Mitzi's room was right next to hers and the walls were thin.

"Cool." She pronounced, then turned her gaze to the door. Mitzi shuffled within her quilt, then shook a fold of fabric off of her head.

"Good luck. Stay safe. You have that pepper spray I got you, right?" The raccoon asked.

Rose decided not to mention that she'd lost the pepper spray a few weeks earlier, the one and only time she'd ever taken it with her. Instead, she let her claws slip free from their velvety sheaths and showed them off, curling her fingers so they gleamed in the light.

"I'll be fine," she said. "See you later."

With that, Rose made for the front door and collected her jacket, a knee length peacoat made from blue wool and lined on the inside with satin. She didn't need it for the cold, but rather because it had enough pockets that she didn't have to carry a bag. Rose checked to make sure she had her wallet, keys and train pass, then bid a final farewell to Mitzi (no response but for a faint tapping of claws on glass) and stepped out into the morning chill.

The coming storm was less apparent from ground level, but still Rose could see pale curls of mist being whipped along the tops of buildings. Her neighborhood was old and a little bit shabby, rows of post-war apartment complexes made from concrete. Posters and other detritus left over from the last election littered the front facing walls. Flags and crosses on one side, roses and dollar signs on the other. The crosses had won, as they nearly always seemed to do.

Rose let her attention drift.

The dealer lived a fair distance away, in one of the northern districts of the city. It was quieter there, filled with old working class neighborhoods that were in the middle of being gentrified. Sleek modern condos and faux-Victorian lofts mingled uncomfortably with post-war apartments and brick townhouses.

On the train Rose watched a pair of white clad religious volunteers paste stickers across all of the advertisements. Their iconography was simpler than the colorful corporate shilling they'd just covered up; crowns and terse demands that sinners know their place and repent before it was too late. A transit cop looked on from the front of the carriage but made no move to step in. He seemed deeply bored.

Rose felt eyes upon her, the volunteers glancing to her legs, her tail and the swell of her chest against the fabric of her coat. They kept turning sharply away, simultaneously unhappy at themselves for looking and furious with her for daring to place herself within view.

One of them stepped over and stiffly presented a pamphlet. Form fitting garments were sinful, it seemed. On the pamphlet's back was an advertisement for a women's reformatory somewhere out in the countryside. Rose decided to get off the train a few stops early.

Nearby to the dealer's neighborhood lay a city park. It was a huge, rolling space filled with trees, ponds and endless winding footpaths. The ponds were frozen and the trees reduced to spindly gray skeletons, but Rose enjoyed the briskness of the stormy air and the first stinging hints of a proper blizzard.

Perhaps it was another trait specific to her species, but Rose always felt calmer and more purposeful when on the move. She could spend hours wandering nowhere in particular, carrying forward at the same brisk gait. If nothing else, it helped keep her trim.

She would be a little bit late for her meeting with the dealer, but that--

"Rose?" A voice sounded from immediately to her left.

Rose glanced over, caught in mid-step. There, seated on a metal bench, was an amber furred cheetah, thickly swaddled in a quilted pink coat. She had her phone out but was looking up from it now, wearing an expression of surprise.

Rose blinked, an uncomfortable, embarrassing blank descending over the front of her mind. She recognized the cheetah's face and the busy, twitchy swish of her spotted tail, but everything else refused to come.

"...Hi." She answered, bringing up what she hoped was a friendly smile. Her confusion must have shown through, for the cheetah stood up and put her phone away.

"Mia," she said, indicating herself. "Gosh, I haven't seen you since graduation."

At this, Rose finally put together what she recalled of the cheetah. Mia had been class valedictorian, always a bit harried and brisk but otherwise perfectly nice. There had been scholarships and fancy universities lined up, and then graduation had come and swirled everyone apart.

For a moment they stood, cultivating an awkward silence, then Rose managed to find her pleasantries.

"Right, um, it's been a few years," she said, then made an effort to say something slightly less apparent. "Are you living in the city?"

"I am," Mia answered, but her smile did something strange and now it looked more like she was trying not to cry. Her tail kept swishing back and forth, clearing frost from the ground. It was difficult not to feel immediately uneasy, but Rose made herself nod soberly along.

They chatted for an awkward few moments about school and old friends that they'd fallen out of contact with. Mia had gone into finance, it seemed. But, though the cheetah's words were optimistic, her body language and the look in her eyes remained no less tense.

"Are you alright?" Rose blurted at last, before she could think better of it.

Mia blinked, looking momentarily startled, then let out a slow breath.

"I just found out I'm pregnant," she said. "Which is good, obviously, but I was, um, released from work. They'll let me back in at the end of the day so I can get my stuff."

The cheetah pronounced her fate delicately, as though using blunter language would only make things worse. Rose blinked. Her eyes flashed down to Mia's stomach, but the cheetah looked perfectly sleek and thin, even wearing her quilted winter coat.

"I guess the weekly drug tests weren't just sweeping for weed," said Mia with a tiny, forced laugh. "...Y'know, it might seem a little cruel, but it does make sense from a legal perspective. Too much liability keeping me on. If something happened, god forbid, the company would be on the hook too."

Rose could see Mia watching her, the cheetah gauging the unease in her eyes with growing worry.

"Right," Rose made herself say, but the fur on her tail had risen and she could feel a cold, numb feeling swirling in the pit of her stomach. "...What will you do now?"

"I'll probably have to move back home for a while, or...there are those maternity lodges in the countryside. To tell you the truth, Rose, I--" Mia hesitated, glancing quickly up the path to where a pair of morning commuters were strolling towards them. "I'll figure something out," she said quickly. "And sorry for dumping all of this on you so early in the morning."

"It's alright." Rose said reflexively, but knew even as she spoke that the words couldn't have sounded authentic. She'd drawn slightly back, subconsciously, as though Mia's situation could somehow be contagious.

"Well," Mia glanced at her phone. "I guess I'll see you around. It was nice, um, catching up, Rose."

Rose managed a tiny nod.

"Good luck." She said, then turned and hurried off, feeling simultaneously disgusted with herself and angry at the whole world. Strangely, she felt upset with Mia too, the cheetah accepting her situation with panicky good grace. Rose knew, deep down in the rational core of herself, that Mia was simply trying to make sense of things, hoping that the system would ultimately deliver a just outcome, but...

She shook her head and shoved her paws into the pockets of her coat, then took deep breaths until she felt slightly better. Vapor hissed from between her teeth with each long exhale and frost glittered upon her whiskers. Yet, even within this new calm, Rose found that her thoughts were still racing along, turning tight circles around a new, quite dangerous concept.

Later, she insisted to herself, and kept on walking.

Rose always met the dealer in the same place, a little corner coffeeshop across the street from the park. The coffeeshop--the Artemis Café--was an old establishment, with hardwood floors and gleaming brass trim everywhere that made even a bit of sense. The lights were wall mounted and hidden behind cut glass sconces, the ceiling covered with tinplate moldings. A huge marble fireplace dominated the cafe's back wall, surrounded by armchairs upholstered with real velvet. Usually, a bank of low yellow gas flames crackled in the hearth, licking placidly over a pile of fake logs.

Time had begun to catch up with the Artemis; the brass was dull with wear and the upholstery upon the armchairs had grown threadbare, but the staff were competent and the coffee excellent. Rose had grown to like the cafe, despite the illicit nature of her visits.

The dealer was waiting when she came in. He'd taken one of the corner tables in the back of the cafe, as per usual, and was leant casually back in his chair, doing his best to look cool and suave. A pair of sunglasses were balanced upon his sharp vulpine muzzle, far enough down that he could look straight over the top of them.

Rose sighed to herself, then went and ordered an espresso. It always looked more natural for a person to be sipping something if they were going to sit down in a coffeeshop. Coffee acquired, she approached the dealer.

He removed his sunglasses as she approached, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, and motioned for her to sit. She did.

"You look good," the dealer said. "Winter suits you." He was still holding his pose, trying his hardest to look cool. Distantly, Rose wondered if he'd seen this in a movie. If that was the case, he looked to have been miscast. The fox was short and weedy, not exactly an imposing presence.

"Sam." She said by way of a reply, keeping her tone cordial and flat. It was always strange and a little bit irritating to deal with the fox. He never stopped trying to puff himself up. Never stopped flirting, either. He'd been the exact same way back in school, just another kid with rich parents and a sense of easy, frustrating entitlement.

"Straight to business?" Sam asked, sounding disappointed. "C'mon, take a moment and relax. We're not exactly out of place here. Just two classmates talking over coffee."

Rose wanted to tell the fox that she wasn't exactly doing this for fun, and that they were barely even classmates (she'd been a grade ahead of him and could count the times they'd spoken on one paw), but...

"Right," she agreed, pasting on a terse, only somewhat annoyed smile. "How's the hospital?"

"Rules of chitchat; don't talk about work." Sam gently scolded.

Rose made herself nod. Really, the only thing she found even halfway interesting about Sam was the fact that he worked in the hospital pharmacy...but, naturally, he refused to talk much about it.

"How was your weekend? Do anything interesting?" She asked instead.

This was about as boilerplate an icebreaker as could be imagined, but Sam still leapt on it. He'd gone biking in the countryside, he'd gone to a club he thought she might like, so on and so forth. As he was both smaller than her and leaning back in his chair, his eyes kept falling to her chest. Rose decided to keep her coat on, even though the cafe was very warm.

"I just got some new speakers too," the fox said. "Maybe you could come up and listen to something..." This was a rather immediate offer, since he lived on the floor just above the cafe. Rose had heard about Sam's apartment lots of times, attached to propositions that were more or less subtle, but she'd never actually seen it.

"Today is kinda busy for me," Rose demurred, the words coming automatically. Her espresso was all gone but for a trace of black sediment at the bottom of the cup, branching out like the tributaries of a river delta. "...Sorry."

Sam shook his head, annoyance creeping into his expression. He made no move to start the transaction. Rose waited, but still the fox pointedly delayed, sipping at his coffee instead.

"Well...?" She asked.

"I think you hurt my feelings," said Sam, casting his gaze elsewhere. "Might have harmed my ability to do business."

Rose had to fight not to reach across the table and grab the little fox by the throat.

"You're not the only game in town, Sam." She said flatly. The fox stared at her, expression gone sour. Rose made like she was about to get up and leave, and immediately Sam blinked hard, looking startled and pitiful.

"I was just joking," he said quickly, then chuckled when Rose settled back into her seat. "...You're way too serious. That's all I was saying. Listen to some music and take a load off. What did you think I was asking you to do?"

Rose said nothing, just stared hard across the table until Sam rolled his eyes and reached into an inner pocket of his jacket. He brought out a nondescript blue box and held it low in his lap, protected from everyone's view but hers. Within, Rose knew, would be thirty off-white birth control pills, each in their own foil blister pouch. One for every day of the month. A little more than two weeks worth when split with Mitzi.

"They're talking about banning condoms too," Sam said. "Maybe I ought to stock up, just in case."

Rose passed her money under the table and received the pills with a feeling of mild relief. She'd gotten fairly good at sleight of hand and other acts of illicit subtlety over the course of her acquaintanceship with Sam. On one level this made her feel competent and capable, but it never quite fully overwhelmed the sick, helpless feeling that came when she thought about why she needed to do these sorts of things to begin with.

Now that she had the box in her paws, it felt very light, almost immaterial. Fifteen pills, fifteen days suddenly did not seem like a long time at all. When those days were up she would need to come right back and perform this exact same errand all over again. Twenty four or twenty five times per year, until either she was caught or Sam ran out, or...

Rose let out a slow breath, her thoughts turning circles.

"Sam." She said. The fox had been chatting idly to her about something, but she hadn't picked up a word. He paused, looking to her.

"What?"

For a moment Rose hesitated. What she was about to ask would be terribly dangerous, but it also seemed immensely appealing, a solution to many of the world's problems. A surefire way to tame the dread and the out-of-control feelings that haunted her every waking moment.

"You work at the hospital," she said, then took a deep breath. "...Could you find a doctor to tie my tubes?"

Sam blinked, then glanced sharply around himself. Nobody had overheard, of course, but still the fox looked uncomfortable.

"That's..." He shook his head and tried again, expelling a nervous laugh. "You're serious?"

Rose nodded. Sam sat back in his chair, tail swishing and ears perked. Now that the shock of her request was past, he seemed contemplative.

"I think I know some people," he said, folding his arms. A not entirely pleasant smile crept onto his face. "But it'll cost you."

"I have money." Rose said, but felt her stomach sink as Sam's smile only grew wider. The fox's eyes drifted to the ceiling.

"Why don't we go and chat some more upstairs," he said. "I don't feel comfortable committing felonies out in the open."

Rose thought about resisting, or again bluffing that she was about to leave, but the situation was different now. With regards to this new, very specific request she'd just made, Sam probably was the only game in town. Wherever this led, she would simply need to negotiate the least bad path.

Sighing, she stood and followed the fox. They left the Artemis and went up a narrow stairway. Sam kept glancing back at her, beaming with smug satisfaction. It was all Rose could do not to yank the fox's tail out from where it cut the air in front of her nose.

Sam unlocked his apartment and opened the door. For a city apartment it was surprisingly spacious; open concept and paneled all over with brick and hardwood. A living room lay directly ahead, with a kitchen to the right and a large, unmade bed to the left. An open box of condoms lay atop the nightstand. It was all one room, delineated only by countertops and low half walls. Everything smelled distinctly of fox.

"You want a drink?" Sam asked, stepping over to the kitchen.

"It's nine in the morning." Rose said.

"Suit yourself," the fox sniffed, then gestured to the living room, where a pair of armchairs and a couch were gathered around an enormous flatscreen television. A teetering stack of games and DVDs was propped against the wall. Rose sat in the nearest chair.

Sam made her a drink anyway, something cold and fruity that smelled of vodka. She set it onto a glass topped coffee table and watched the fox flop onto the couch with a contented sigh. He looked very relaxed now, completely in control of the situation.

"So," Rose began. "You know a doctor who could perform an operation like that?"

Sam regarded her with an easy gaze and still that same infuriatingly vulpine smile.

"Y'know, I get it," he said. "This way you don't have to worry about getting knocked up ever again. The only problem is that I lose you as a customer. You see my conundrum?"

"You said we were going to talk about this," Rose insisted. "Arranging an operation. Do you know a professional who can do what I want? If you don't, I'm going to leave."

"Fuck's sake," the fox groaned, flashing her an annoyed look. "Always so fucking uptight. Yes, I know a doctor. I get him benzos sometimes, so he'll do whatever you want. Happy?"

Rose settled, but did not let Sam see her relief. A dark, suspicious part of herself wondered for a moment if this doctor was actually a professional (or even a real person), but there was no way of finding that out for sure. Not before she jumped through some more hoops.

"What's his name?" She asked anyway.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Not so fast," he said, as Rose had known he would. "I'm sticking my neck out for you, you know that? So I'm gonna need something in return."

A cold, apprehensive prickle tightened the pit of Rose's stomach. In the back of her mind she knew what the fox was likely to ask of her, but somehow it still took her by surprise when he undid the top button on his pants and let down the zipper, revealing a thick white furred sheath, the tip of a pointed red vulpine shaft poking free.

It was strange just how sudden this all was. Rose had imagined herself rolling her eyes or performing some other desultory, hopefully demoralizing action, but instead she froze, feeling cold and distantly frightened.

"You and your fucking ultimatums..." Sam said. "How about I give you one back. Either you come over here and have some fun with me, or we're done. No more pills, and definitely no doctor." He shuffled his pants down over his hips and then kicked them off, sitting with his legs spread and his gaze insistent.

Rose blinked, her mouth too dry to speak. Somehow, she'd imagined things going more slowly, giving her enough time to properly riposte the fox's advances. This was bad. Very suddenly all of her choices had been stripped away, replaced by a binary of two bad options. Either she left and was pushed back into a sea of danger and uncertainty...or she gave herself to the fox.

Slowly, Rose managed to tear her eyes from the unwelcome sight on the couch and made herself think things through, putting aside things like fear and pride, though it agonized her to do so. Sam knew a doctor, someone who would remove a great source of uncertainty and helplessness from her life. If she had to endure some humiliation to get there, that was bad, but not as bad as the alternative.

"Just get it over with." She muttered inaudibly to herself, then stood and stepped over to the couch. Her stomach had clenched and the corners of her vision seemed to have constricted. Rose hated just how quickly her heart had begun to beat.

Sam grinned, stroking one paw lightly along his sheath.

"Get undressed." He instructed her, a tremble of eager anticipation riding his words.

Rose let an unhappy breath hiss from between her teeth, then unbuttoned her peacoat. Underneath, she wore a sky blue blouse, the top two buttons unfastened so that a soft tuft of white fur spilled out. She tried to work slowly, undoing each button as though it were a technical task that required great focus, but even so it felt like no time at all before her blouse fell completely open.

She'd worn a strapless black bra and Rose found that it had shuffled slightly down upon her bust, exposing a great deal of snowy furred cleavage. This would have been ordinary any other day, but now she hated the fox's gaze and the eagerness which weighted his smile. Despite herself, she looked down and noted, with disgust, the pre beading at the tip of his pointed red shaft.

Before Rose could reach behind herself and undo her bra's clasp, Sam stood and took a quick step forward, suddenly near enough that he was practically touching her. Rose thought about shuffling backwards but felt the edge of the coffee table touch her legs and knew that she had nowhere to go. Not unless she wanted to run and blow up the whole terrible deal. Or shove the fox back onto the couch. It would have been easy to throw the little bastard across the room, but though Rose felt her claws shivering within their sheaths, she managed to swallow her anger.

The fox let out a slow, delighted breath and pushed his paws under the cups of her bra, shoving the garment up to Rose's throat and letting her breasts bounce free. Rose had always been a little bit proud of her body, leopards weren't typically known for being well endowed and she thought that her breasts complimented the thick ruff of white fur that ran down the center of her chest.

Now, however, they felt like a liability.

Sam groped her shamelessly, squeezing and caressing, dull claws coming in to pinch her nipples. Rose could not stop herself from flinching each time this happened. Now, even more than anger, a deep, hot humiliation burned within her. She felt stiff and numb and terribly useless, brought low by the demands of some spoilt brat who she never would have looked at had circumstances been even slightly different.

"I've wanted to do this for so long, you have no idea..." Sam said, pushing himself even closer, practically between her legs. Rose could feel the heated, unwelcome press of his cock against the inside of one thigh, pre soaking through the fabric of her pants and staining her fur. She shivered with disgust and again had to fight not to shove him away.

Still pushing and pawing and groping, Sam turned her around and Rose found herself guided past the sofa and to the bed, a tangle of wrinkled sheets and crumpled blankets. For a moment Rose stiffened against Sam's advances, knowing somehow that if she got onto that bed then things would move past the point of no return...but the internal calculus of the situation remained unfortunately the same and so, slowly, reluctantly, she allowed herself to be pushed onto her back, nude from the waist up.

Immediately, Sam straddled her stomach, cock twitching with need, beads of pre falling to wet the fur between her breasts. Rose squirmed but did not pull away. She cast her gaze far to the side. But though she expected that the fox would fondle her, or push his cock between her breasts, instead he leaned far forward and, with horrible suddenness, was kissing her.

For an instant she froze, shocked and repulsed. The fox's whole weight had settled upon her and she could feel the eager shove of his hips even as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. One of her paws stroked behind her ear and seized a fistful of fur there, trying to lock her into place so he could do with her as he pleased.

Rose shivered and tried to buck Sam off, but his leverage was slightly too good and he simply shoved himself even further atop her, his cock pressed between her breasts and quick, eager breaths passing from his mouth to hers.

It couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds, but Rose felt paralyzed, entirely at the fox's mercy. It was only when she heard Sam laugh, delighted with his conquest of her, that she managed to push her head sharply to one side, breaking from his advances.

"You..." She growled, glaring up at him. Sam stared down at her, breathing hard, fur rising in clumps. He seemed simultaneously amused and angry.

"What'd you do that for?" The fox asked.

Rose had to work very hard not to lunge forward and bury her teeth into Sam's throat. Anything to dampen his breathing and forever get rid of that obnoxious, self satisfied smirk.

"Don't fucking kiss me!" She hissed.

Sam blinked and even began to roll his eyes, but whatever nonchalance he was attempting seemed to have been shaken by the anger in her voice. The fox huffed and sat back, paws still resting lightly on her breasts.

"Whatever," he said. "You don't have to act like such a bitch about it."

With that, Sam moved himself forward, his cock bobbing in front of her face. Rose made him demand twice before, reluctantly, she opened her mouth. Somehow, even beyond the basic violation of this new act, she felt disappointed in herself. Somehow, she'd hoped that Sam would be wary of sticking anything else in her mouth. But, bad as this was, at least she didn't have to look him directly in the eyes. It was easier to disassociate, the act less immediate and terrible. Even when his paws came to frame her head and hold her in place, Rose did her best to ignore it.

The fox took his time fucking her mouth, gasping and grunting at each new thrust. Rose put no special effort into tracing Sam's cock with her tongue or molding her lips to his shaft, only let her eyes fall to slits and balled her paws into fists. The fox wasn't quite so big that he could plug her throat, but she still had to time her breaths. The air tasted of pre and foxy musk.

"Good girl," Sam breathed, settling for a moment with his cock hilted down her throat and the tangled tuft of fur at his groin tickling her nose. "We could make this a regular thing, you know. Just you and me..."

Rose stiffened, a tiny growl rising from the bottom of her throat. Sam rolled his eyes and bucked his hips against her face, strangling her defiance in an instant. Rose gagged and squirmed, tears springing to the corners of her eyes.

Then, to her relief, Sam sat back, cock flopping from her mouth. Rose coughed, but even before she could sit up, Sam was between her legs, undoing the top button of her pants. Rose lay unhappily back and let the fox undress her, though she kept an eye on his movements.

He spread her legs, pushing them up and apart. Rose couldn't keep her tail from anxiously twitching. She wondered if this, in some perverse, unanticipated way, was drawing attention to the soft ebony lips of her pussy and the tiny, midnight pucker of her tail-hole. Not that the fox needed any invitation. For a moment he positioned himself, then Rose felt the tip of his cock brush her tail-hole.

"Wait." She blurted, getting ready to jolt away if the fox did not listen.

To her surprise, Sam paused. He leaned forward, pinning her legs open and sliding the underside of his cock over her slit.

"Not your ass?" The fox asked, but though he sounded disappointed there was a performative edge to his words. Immediately, Rose knew what he wanted her to do. Her stomach twisted.

"No." She mumbled.

"You'd better ask nicely, then." Sam said.

Rose gritted her teeth, filled for a moment with rage, then a cold feeling of defeat and shame.

"Use my pussy." She mumbled.

Sam waited. Rose felt the tip of his cock drag across the lips of her feline slit, trending ever lower...

"Please." She said through gritted teeth, unable even to look at the fox. Sam smirked, but before he could do anything more, Rose stretched out an arm and just barely managed to hook the packet of condoms that sat upon the nightstand. She threw them to Sam, forcing the fox to fumble the packet against his chest. He looked surprised.

"Wear one." Rose said, injecting what she hoped was a tone of unassailable firmness into her voice.

Sam blinked, still caught off guard.

"Oh come on, you're taking birth control." He said dismissively, but something in her eyes kept him from throwing away the condoms.

"It's not..." Rose blew out a breath, supposing there was no point in explaining that it wasn't just the possibility of pregnancy, but rather that she didn't want to feel him if he chose to finish inside...as she suspected he would. "...If you wear a condom, I'll do whatever position you want."

She felt dirty even saying this, but knew by the way that Sam's ears perked that she had picked the correct incentive. The fox selected a condom and sat back, rolling a sheath of slick latex down over his shaft.

"Happy?" He asked. "Now lay back."

Rose did so, forcing herself to relax as the fox again positioned himself between her legs. She felt the press of his cock and then a push. For a moment there was resistance, then Sam slid into her with a groan and a shiver of satisfaction. The fox's paws pushed her legs even further apart and he began to thrust, his hips meeting hers, rocking her back on the bed.

Somehow, Rose felt almost disappointed that the fox's rutting of her didn't hurt. The condom had been lubricated and, even though Sam was clearly intending to be rough, he just didn't have the weight or strength to really overcome the fact that she was nearly twice his size. The only thing that did genuinely hurt was the poke of his claws into her thighs, but Rose thought that was probably unintentional, the sign of a clueless lover rather than an active sadist. Really, even his thrusting was ill patterned, more suited to his own wants than anything else.

"Fuck, you're tight," the fox panted, his breath warming her stomach. "Should've just let me tap this back in school...saved us both some trouble."

"Oh fuck off." Rose muttered, too quietly for Sam to hear. She could feel his knot beginning to swell, the fox getting close. Then, suddenly, he drew back, sliding out of her.

"Roll over," he panted. "Ass in the air, tail up."

Rose obeyed. This was part of her little deal with the fox, she supposed, but that made it feel no less humiliating to present herself to him. She folded her arms and rested her chin atop them, staring directly ahead. Behind her, the fox shuffled and adjusted her, shamelessly groping her rear and tugging her tail, pulling her a bit lower so he could be perfectly lined up. It was almost a relief when he finally slid back in and started pounding her again.

This time, however, Rose could feel the growing protrusion of his knot pressing against the lips of her pussy at the height of each thrust, already slightly too big to slip inside. The unexpected pressure and the frantic pace of the fox's rut felt unexpectedly warm, almost tingly. Her heart was beating faster and Rose realized, with dismay, that her legs had begun to tremble.

All purely physical, she insisted to herself. Just her body reacting to stimuli. That was all true, of course, but it didn't help her feel any better. Her ears had pinned tightly back and Rose became suddenly grateful that Sam could not see how her whiskers were quivering. Angry, humiliated tears welled in the corners of her eyes.

Behind her, the fox looped his arms around her middle and hugged himself to her, still pumping vigorously away. Rose felt a sudden hot wetness in the center of her back and realized, with disgust, that the fox was drooling on her. He ground hard against her hips at the height of one especially long thrust, a frustrated, needy whine leaking past gritted teeth as he was again unable to get his knot into her. Rose let out a jagged breath and tried her hardest to think of other things, to utterly remove herself from what was happening.

"You like that?" Sam asked, and was met with only a low, shivery growl in return. The fox laughed. "You're so wet." He taunted, and tried again to shove his knot into her. Rose clenched down, realizing too late that this only made the tingles and the heat even worse. She shivered, from head to toe, and was unable to keep her tail from performing a strange, jagged swish.

She buried her face into Sam's bedspread, hoping that perhaps the dark would help, but she could still hear the slap of the fox hilting into her, coupled with his eager panting and the occasional whine and grunt. Even her own breathing, quick and uneven, was distressing to listen to.

"I'm close." Sam panted, and then gathered himself and shoved the whole of his weight against her. A strange, strangled cry leaked from between Rose's lips and she felt, with a certain heated horror, the swell of Sam's knot push into her. Her legs quivered and her tail swished, then Sam's hips met hers and the fox was bucking ecstatically, heavy vulpine balls jerking as he reached his climax. Rose gritted her teeth and felt a huge jet of wet, sticky warmth expand within her. She...

Wait.

She raised her head and looked back. Past the unwelcome sight of Sam bonded to her, she could see a slick, glistening latex thing on the very edge of the bed, where the fox had surreptitiously tossed his condom after changing positions.

Rose stiffened, but before she could manage any sort of recrimination or outrage, Sam pushed his paws between her shoulder blades and forced her down. She collapsed, burning with anger and humiliation, hating how she quivered at each hot pulse of the fox's seed. She could feel his knot throbbing and his balls still jerking where they were snugged into the sodden fur between her legs.

"Fuck..." Sam sighed, then let out a low, satisfied whistle. He was still making tiny thrusts, forcing her to shiver and clench down on him. She felt unpleasantly full, her womb drenched in vulpine cum.

Rose thought again about shouting at the fox, but there was no point. He still held all of the cards.

For now.

Once she'd seen the doctor, perhaps she could pay Sam one final visit, of an entirely different sort.

"Was that your first knot?" Sam asked. He tugged experimentally, wringing an involuntary shiver from Rose. "...Wish I could have bred you for real."

At this Rose turned her head and fixed the fox with a chilly, murderous look. He decided not to attempt any more pillow talk for the remaining minutes before his knot shrank.

It took a few tries for Sam to successfully pull out of her, his knot escaping with a pop and then a slow drool of vulpine seed. Rose shivered at the feeling of it going down her thighs. When she stood up she swayed for a precarious moment, her legs nearly too wobbly to support her.

Sam laughed.

"Admit it," the fox said, still lounging casually on the bed. "You liked that."

Rose looked to the nearest window instead, so she wouldn't have to look at the fox. Ribbons of snow whipped past, a hazy gray fallen over the whole city. The storm was now upon them.

A paw took her by the wrist. Rose stiffened, but knew that she couldn't resist too much. Still, she made Sam work in order to tug her to her knees at the foot of the bed.

"Clean me off." He ordered.

Rose joylessly licked his cock clean, until it shrank back into its sheath. She felt steadier when she stood back up, though a dull ache throbbed between her legs. That would probably go away after a night's rest, she decided. The sick, hollow feeling of shame that curdled her stomach would need longer to fully dissipate.

"The bathroom's over there." Said Sam, pointing casually past the kitchen. Rose did her best to ignore his gaze as she walked naked across his apartment, cum spattering the fur between her legs.

The shower was large, sheathed with glass...and about a foot too short for her. Rose had to hunch in order to fit under the spray. Sam's selection of shampoos and fur conditioners left something to be desired, but it was better than walking outside in her current state. She'd go home and really scrub herself. Drown her fur in safe, familiar scents.

Before she could think any further on this plan, the bathroom door opened. Rose let out a disappointed breath and tried not to look apprehensive as Sam joined her in the shower, pressing close.

"Just realized I forgot to tell you some stuff," the fox said, squirting a generous dollop of shampoo into one paw. He began to lather the fur on her front, paying special attention to each firm breast. "...You'll come here to meet the doctor and pay him. Then he'll take you to the hospital, operate, and make the paperwork look like you had your appendix removed. Sound good?"

Rose had to admit that it did. She would be operated on in a sterile environment, by a trained professional (albeit one with a benzo habit). Her tracks would even be covered. Still, she couldn't make herself relax.

"How can you know the operating room will be empty?" She asked. The fox gave her a small look. One paw slipped between her legs. Rose winced as he pushed a pair of fingers into her slit.

"Trust me." He said and spoke no more. Something told Rose that the conversation was now over. She didn't resist when Sam made her face the shower wall and then kneel. She felt the eager press of his cock between her thighs, then he was sinking into the velvety heat of her pussy once more, arms looped tight around her stomach.

The fox fucked her more gently this time, savoring the grip of her cunt and the gradual acceleration of her breathing as he worked his knot into her for the second time that morning. Rose stared hard at the wall and kept her teeth firmly gritted, paws clenched into fists and every muscle in her body unhappily tensed. No matter the heat that crackled in her center or the tingles that rose with each new stretch and capitulation of the muscles that lined her pussy, she would not give him the pleasure of seeing her any way but cold and defiant.

All the same, a tiny moan shivered from between her lips when the fox came, and Rose could not keep herself from clenching down, a thousand tiny muscles massaging the fox's cock from head to base. Warm spurts of vulpine seed splashed into her womb. Sam's volume was less now, but that was of precious little comfort given the ecstatic noises Rose could hear him making. He squeezed her breasts and stretched up to kiss the side of her neck. She flinched away, but the fox only laughed.

The water had begun to cool by the time they uncoupled once more. Rose braced herself for another round of debasement, but the fox was spent. He left the shower and Rose took her time cleaning herself off. There was no steam to cloud the bathroom mirror when she got out and Rose could see herself perfectly; limp and sodden, whiskers drooping and eyes filled with humiliation. She looked quickly away.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Rose collected her garments where they were scattered across the floor. She found her shirt and underwear, but when she made to pick up her pants Sam casually pinned them with one foot.

Rose sighed.

"We're done," she said tiredly. "I'm leaving, Sam."

"Kiss me goodbye." Said the fox.

Rose stared, but though she hoped to feel the same rage that had animated her earlier, not even a flicker arose. She felt too beaten down, her legs still wobbly and sore.

"Sam..." She began to say, but the fox only gave her a look.

Rose tried to kiss Sam on the cheek, but it was only a halfhearted feint and the fox corrected it in an instant. Rose made no effort to purse her lips, but the fox didn't seem to mind. He smiled as he kissed her, his tongue pressing hers back and both paws groping her breasts. There wouldn't be anything to follow, Rose knew, but she still felt newly violated. Low. Dirty. Like all of her scrubbing in the shower had done nothing at all.

Finally, Sam broke the kiss and kicked her pants over. Rose dressed in silence, enduring only the fox's gaze. She made it to the doorway of his apartment before he next spoke.

"I'll let you know when the meeting is," Sam said, settling back onto the couch. He smirked, still looking her up and down. "...And seriously, if you ever want me to make you cum--"

Rose slammed the door and hurried down the stairwell. Distantly, muffled by the walls, she could hear Sam laughing.

She took the train home, feeling shaken and small. There were no white clad zealots this time, fortunately, but Rose could see their posters and pamphlets pasted crookedly to the walls. She wanted to slash them with her claws but could not muster up the energy.

Mitzi was sitting on the couch when she came back in, typing on her computer and still wrapped up in the same starry quilt. The raccoon glanced up and offered a smile.

"Everything go okay?" She asked.

"Fine." Rose lied. She couldn't even contemplate telling Mitzi what had happened. Embarrassment aside, the raccoon was already skittish enough. For half a moment she thought about mentioning the operation she'd arranged, but even that didn't seem relevant. Not if Sam would attempt to foist the same unholy price on Mitzi that he had on her.

Perhaps she could speak privately with the doctor. Cut the fox out of the equation.

Rose brought out the pills and divvied them up with Mitzi, then traipsed to her room, stripped her clothes and buried them in the bottom of the hamper. She took a long, scalding shower and scrubbed until every bit of her ached, but none of that cut through to the hollow, angry ache in her center.

"I'll kill him." Rose decided, and the solidity of those words did make her feel slightly better. She would lurk like one of her primal ancestors, waiting the best opportunity to strike.

Even as she indulged in dark thoughts, a knock came at the bathroom door.

"Rose?" Mitzi asked.

"Hmm."

"Are you alright? You've been in there for a while..."

"I'm fine." Rose said again. She felt slightly bad for her deception this time, but shut off the water anyway and dried her fur. She smelled of lavender now. An improvement.

Eli came over in the evening and Rose dutifully gave Mitzi some space to acquaint with her boyfriend. Eli was nice enough, she supposed. He did his own dishes, treated Mitzi with kindness and played guitar in a fairly awful rock band. Rose lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Even with her earplugs in she could faintly hear Mitzi giggling and making high, delighted noises on the other side of the wall.

Rose herself had tried a few times to have a steady partner, if only for the sake of being normal, but those efforts had never lasted. She found other people pleasant enough, but any sort of romantic intention made Rose feel as though she had suddenly been cast into the center of a stage play, one where she knew none of the lines or characters.

Watching Mitzi and Eli was a bit like that as well. Some part of Rose had never quite abandoned the notion that they were simply pretending at being in love, though she could not fathom why.

Rose let out a breath. The ceiling above her was pale in the darkness, a spidery crack in the plaster running diagonally from one corner to another. She thought again about killing Sam and felt slightly less empty. Not that she would actually kill him, of course...but certainly his paws would be forfeit. And his mouth. And every other part of him that had touched her.

It took Rose a long time to fall asleep.

Late in the evening of the following day, Sam sent a message. The doctor had agreed. They would meet tomorrow at ten. Bring money.

Rose felt relieved. She looked at the hospital website and scanned the list of doctors a few times, wondering which one it would be. The idea of visiting Sam's apartment once more filled her with dread, but she really had no choice. A serious crime was being commissioned. Not exactly the sort of thing that could be done out in the open.

She scraped together the money, almost everything she had, and then tried to act as normally as she possibly could. The meeting loomed large in her mind.

Late the next morning she rode the train. The storm had passed now and the sky was cold and pale, like a sheet of chilled porcelain. Police sirens wailed on distant streets and people stood chipping ineffectually at berms of ice with their shovels. The air felt stiff with frost.

It felt strange to skirt the Artemis Cafe. Rose thought about stopping and having something to fortify her nerves, but there was simply no time. She took a deep breath and made her way up the stairwell that led to Sam's apartment. A sickly, curdled feeling gathered at the pit of her stomach and Rose realized that her ears had pinned.

She knocked on the door.

Sam answered after a moment, the fox casually dressed and smug as ever.

"Right on time." He said, then stepped aside to let her in. A paw came up to squeeze her ass. Rose stiffened, baring her teeth, and was gratified to see Sam step abruptly away. The fox shut the door behind her with a disdainful huff.

"Say hi to Dr. Chambers." He said, then stalked off to the kitchen and began to noisily make himself a drink.

Rose looked across the apartment, chest tightening as she took in the dreadfully familiar surrounds. Then her eyes settled upon something new. There, perched uncomfortably upon the furthest armchair, was a graying, fretful otter. Rose recognized him from the hospital staff page (though there he had looked quite a bit younger) and immediately felt relieved. The doctor stood, managing a strained smile.

"You must be Rose," he said. "Um...I suppose we should begin our business."

Chambers was thin and bent, his whiskers crooked. Though the otter was clearly trying to be polite, Rose could tell that he did not want to be there. Darkly, she wondered if Sam had blackmailed him into coming.

"Right." She agreed, and brought out the packet of money from inside of her coat. Chambers looked but did not take it.

"I'm required to ask if you really want to go through with this," the otter said, fixing her with a serious, halfway worried gaze. "Or...that's what we asked back when all of this was legal." He shrugged and glanced quickly over to Sam. The fox swirled one paw.

"Well?" He asked impatiently.

Rose looked from Chambers to Sam and back again. Something about the doctor's tone felt odd, but she couldn't place why. Perhaps it was just the basic illegality of this, the possibility of punishment weighing heavily on his mind.

She took a deep breath and nodded, as firmly as she could.

"Let's get it over with." She said, then handed over the money. Chambers took it and stepped sharply backwards, shoulders hunched and face averted. Sam ducked down behind the kitchen countertop.

Rose had just enough time to realize that something was terribly wrong before a pair of men in dark coats burst from the bathroom at the back of the apartment.

"Police!" The first man, a black furred jackal, shouted. "Paws up!"

He had a pistol, the weapon aimed directly at her. Rose knew that she ought to have run, or done something that was even slightly proactive, but instead she simply froze. The bore of the jackal's gun suddenly seemed as large and black as a train tunnel. Her mouth dropped open. Somewhere in the corner of her vision she could see Chambers cowering, still holding her money in both paws. The police ignored him.

"Paws up!" The second cop repeated. He was a weasel, scruffy and slim, sharp little teeth bared like he was about to bite her. This time Rose managed to obey. They were right in her face now, shouting and still aiming their pistols. The jackal forced her to her knees and, before she knew it, Rose felt her paws being cuffed behind her back. Metal bit into her wrists and her paws were stuffed into nylon bags so she couldn't use her claws. Working in unison with his partner, the weasel produced a muzzle and locked it over her face. The edges were coated with rubber and tugged at her fur. Rose stared, mouth gone dry and a dark, staticky border constricting her vision. She couldn't open her jaws more than an inch before running into metal. Even breathing felt difficult.

"You're under arrest for the solicitation of banned medical practices." Said the jackal, holstering his gun. There was something desultory and terribly businesslike in his tone. It occurred to Rose that these men had done this exact thing many times before. They had white paper crosses pinned to the breast of their coats in place of name-tags or badge numbers, she realized. There was something deeply frightening about that.

Sam stood back up and let out a slow whistle. Rose stared, some part of her shock giving way to anger.

"You motherfucker." She managed to say, though the words came out strangled and barely intelligible.

Sam only shrugged. From where he stood at the back of the apartment, Chambers let out a slow, unhappy breath. He looked to her and for a moment Rose thought he might say something, but the doctor only turned away, wearing an expression of profound regret.

The policemen weren't as tall as her, but they were strong and worked in perfect unison to get her down the stairs. Rose kept her teeth gritted and her shoulders straight, but could not keep her whiskers from trembling. Frightened tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. A strange, numb unreality had settled over her. She still could not entirely comprehend what had just happened.

A pair of police cruisers had pulled up in front of the Artemis, the cafe itself newly empty. Everyone knew that when the police showed up bad things were likely to follow. More police, these new figures in standard blue uniforms, stood by and watched.

"Just the one?" A rabbit casually asked. He was sipping coffee.

The jackal nodded.

"I don't know why they can't just keep their legs shut." He said.

The rabbit laughed. Rose stared hard at the icy sidewalk, trembling from head to tail. The weasel pushed her up against the nearest cruiser and searched her. Distantly, Rose wondered why he hadn't done this inside...but as she looked across the street she could see people watching, a few filming on their phones. It was all a show, she realized, and felt even worse.

Paws patted roughly along her sides and down her legs, the cops sneaking gropes whenever they could. Rose shivered but did her best not to let them see just how frightened she was. The rabbit was calling in to headquarters, letting them know to expect another prisoner.

That was what she was now. A prisoner.

The back of the police cruiser was cramped and smelled faintly of disinfectant. Rose stared through the metal mesh that separated her from the officers up front. The jackal glanced back, regarding her fear with unhidden disdain.

"You did this to yourself." He said, then started to drive.

The precinct station was a huge square building made from poured concrete, its windows long and narrow like the gun-slits in a bunker. Rose was brought in through an underground parking space, past rows of cruisers and officers waiting to be put on call. The air smelled of motor oil and spilt fuel, everything lit by endless banks of overhead fluorescents.

"Woah, where'd you get a piece like that?" A gray furred wolf called.

The jackal rolled his eyes. It took Rose a moment to realize that she was the 'piece' the wolf had referred to. There were eyes upon her, gazes both dull and hostile and appallingly hungry.

Rose was pushed into an elevator, the cops flanking her. They shoved her back and forth between them, paws straying between her legs and over her chest. One of them, Rose had shut her eyes so she wasn't sure who, reached under her shirt and tore away her bra.

She felt uniquely helplessly, legs trembling and ears pinned. Her paws were cuffed and the muzzle strapped to her face seemed to have become even tighter. Every part of herself she could have normally relied on for defense had been locked away.

One of the jackal's paws came and seized her by the throat, Rose forced against the back wall of the elevator. She wheezed and struggled, but the jackal kept her pinned in place. Still, she thrashed and managed to strike the jackal in the side of the head with the metal cage of her muzzle. He recoiled, momentarily startled, but then pinned her again.

"You dumb bitch." The jackal hissed, forcing a knee between her thighs. He undid his zipper and, though she could not look down, Rose felt a slick hardness jab against her legs.

Panic swamped her, icy and all consuming. She cried out, a pitiful, strangled noise, and tried to thrash away. There were dark spots in the corners of her vision and a dull pain transfixed her throat. The jackal bucked his hips, trying and failing to push into her. His shaft slid between her thighs and then Rose felt him stiffen, spurts of sticky warmth spattering her fur.

The jackal groaned and shoved against her again, but still couldn't get his aim quite right. He pulled back, looking simultaneously angry and embarrassed, one last weak pulse of seed shooting across Rose's stomach.

"Shit." The jackal muttered. His paw came away from her throat and Rose coughed, sagging into a corner. Dirty as she felt, there was also a weird sense of relief. A moment later the elevator bell dinged and Rose felt her pants being tugged back up, the cops hurriedly pulling themselves together.

The jackal tugged her from the elevator, wearing a scowl.

From there Rose found herself whirled through booking. The whole facility was crowded and noisy, a metallic stink of fear hanging in the air like ozone ahead of a lightning strike. Rose had her fur sampled, her prints taken and then was photographed. Again, she felt a surreal sense of disbelief at everything that was happening. She looked out across the room but it felt flat, like a matte painting in a play. Surely, at any moment somebody would come out and retrieve her. She would be brought away and returned to the ordinary rhythms of her life.

Yet the only place she was taken was a small concrete room with a metal table and a dirty, scratched mirror on one wall. Rose had seen enough police procedurals to know that the mirror was two way and she kept glancing anxiously to it even after she was cuffed to the table and then left alone.

She couldn't even make herself feel much relief that the cops were finally gone. Now that her paws were in front of her, she tried to loosen her muzzle, but couldn't manage to get the correct grip. After a while she gave up and simply stared down at the faded, rusty stains on the tabletop. They looked disconcertingly like blood.

Rose tried to think of what could be done, but kept running into that same impenetrable bank of panic. It blurred her thoughts and crushed all sense of action. Were this a television show she might ask for a phone call so she could see how Mitzi was doing. But even thinking about that made Rose feel worse. For all she knew, the police had raided their apartment and found the pills. They might have snatched up Mitzi as an accomplice.

She was still thinking about this, agonizing over endless unknowns, when the door swung open. Rose stiffened, expecting more police, but instead a sleek little otter stepped through, holding a briefcase in her arms. The handle had been removed for whatever reason, as had the metal clasps which would have otherwise held it shut.

"Hello," said the otter. "My name is Katherine. I've been assigned to represent you." She set down her briefcase with a thump and then quickly searched through it until she found a single sheet of paper. Rose watched this with a faint feeling of relief. A lawyer. That had to be a good sign.

The otter eyed the nylon bags covering Rose's paws, then turned to the mirror.

"Can we do away with the restraints, please?" She asked, speaking loudly and clearly. "My client is a nonviolent offender."

Silence. Katherine let out a small breath and gave Rose an apologetic smile. Then she turned the sheet of paper and slid it across the table.

"I'll need your consent before I can represent you," the otter explained. "Just give me a nod and then I'll, um, write your name down for you." She smiled reassuringly, as though all of this were a minor but perfectly ordinary inconvenience.

Rose scanned the paper, which held only a few sentences of text. She comprehended none of it but still offered a shaky nod.

"Very good," said Katherine, making a quick scribble across the signature portion of the page. She tucked it back into her briefcase. "Alright, so tell me why you're being held. Is it for purchase of contraception? Possession? Sale?"

Rose took a deep breath and did her best to enunciate. So long as she didn't try to open her mouth too widely, it was possible to make herself understood. Slowly, she laid out the events of the morning. Her meeting with the doctor and the revelation that it was a sting. Katherine listened. The otter didn't quite lose her smile, but a hint of worry had leached some of the light from her eyes.

"That's a much more serious charge," she said at last. "Especially given your demographic. They don't look kindly on young women trying to sterilize themselves."

"Fuck them." Rose growled.

Katherine was silent for a moment.

"My advice would be to admit everything and throw yourself at the mercy of the judge," the otter said at last. "It would also be helpful if you were able to provide the names of other people who might be guilty of similar crimes."

Rose shook her head, freshly dismayed.

Katherine's smile had turned wholly into a wince.

"Listen," she had to glance quickly down at her papers. "...Rose. I won't lie, there are no good options. Soon you will be going in front of a very unsympathetic judge. If you are unrepentant, she will throw the book at you. However, if you act submissively, your sentence will be lighter. Do you understand?"

It was only at this last part that Rose looked up from the table. Once more she felt panicky, her heart hammering and her vision gone dark around the edges. She considered telling Katherine about the jackal, the weasel and what they had done to her in the elevator, but the urge died even before she could air it. They were police officers. Even if she had the best lawyer in the world, nothing would ever happen to them.

She slumped back in her chair, weighed down by dread and hopelessness. Katherine was right about one thing; there really were no good options at all.

Across the table from her, the otter checked her phone and sighed.

"We're due at court in twenty minutes," she said. "Would you like me to get you some water?"

Somehow, Rose couldn't even feel surprised about how quickly everything was moving. She'd seen how Katherine had reacted to the nature of her crimes. She was clearly being made an example of.

"No." Rose said listlessly. Her paws were trembling and her tail kept swishing anxiously back and forth. Katherine let out a breath and again reiterated the strategy of her defense...though it was barely a defense to begin with. The otter sounded almost robotic now. Rose wondered how many times she had said this exact thing before, and if it ever worked.

After a few minutes a new pair of cops appeared, a dog with shaggy black fur and a stoat with cruel eyes. They pushed her through the halls of the station, down a flight of concrete stairs, and along a linoleum clad corridor. Katherine hurried behind them, briefcase clutched tight to her chest.

At the end of the corridor, Rose found herself placed in a long line of sullen, unhappy women accompanied by policemen and the occasional court appointed lawyer. Katherine exchanged quiet helloes with a few of her colleagues. The hallway was eerily silent, but for the scratch of claws against linoleum and the uneasy breathing of people awaiting their fate.

"Contraception case?" A plump gray rabbit asked, glancing over from where he stood beside his own client, a trembly young doe with blood crusted under her nose.

"Something like that," Katherine said. "I'll tell you at lunch."

Rose looked briefly across the other prisoners. They were being called, one by one, into a room at the end of the hallway. As Rose watched, a tall gazelle with gilt hooves was tugged into the room by a pair of grimacing wolf cops.

"Chickenshits!" The gazelle cried, then had her defiance scut abruptly off by the crackle of a stun-gun. Rose flinched, despite herself. The cops in the hallway laughed. The stoat, who held her left arm, flashed her an unpleasant smile.

"Just you try it, sweetheart." He said.

Rose looked quickly away.

Katherine spoke to her again, urging compliance, but the otter's words fell to nonsense and Rose instead watched the line evaporate in front of her. The average rate appeared to be one person every ninety seconds, though some took a bit longer.

"This can't be fair." She muttered.

Katherine gave her a small, sympathetic look but said nothing in response.

Finally, after what felt simultaneously like an eternity and only a moment, it was her turn. Through the door, Rose heard a small commotion, then a shriek and a heavy dragging noise. Somebody called for order in an angry voice. A moment later the door opened and Rose was escorted into a small, makeshift courtroom. The judge, an older female rabbit in black robes, sat at a desk at the front of the room. There was a chair for witnesses and then, before it all, a pair of tables for the defense and prosecution.

On the other side of the room, near to the prosecutor's table, Rose saw the jackal and the weasel standing up against the wall. They regarded her with dull hostility. Before them, an unhappy white fox--this had to be the prosecutor--was knelt on the floor, gathering up a heap of fallen papers. A fine spray of blood had misted some of them and Rose found her eyes following a trail of smeared crimson droplets across the linoleum and towards another door at the back of the ersatz courtroom. This one was heavy, made from steel. She shivered.

The motions of the court were perfunctory. People rose for the judge and then sat back down. The defense's side of the room had no chairs and so Rose stood next to Katherine and listened to the otter plead her case, such as it was. Then the prosecutor called up the jackal and had him describe the arrest. It all sounded very open and shut.

The judge listened impassively, eyes fixed upon an ambiguous point in middle space.

"How does your client plead in this matter?" She asked.

Rose looked to Katherine. 'Guilty', the otter mouthed.

Rose thought about the word and its meaning, but could not suppress a feeling of monstrous unfairness.

"Speak up." Said the judge, not bothering to hide her impatience.

Rose stared across the courtroom, fear and anger all boiling over.

"It was my choice," she cried, as best she could through her muzzle. "How is this a crime?!"

Immediately, the judge shot upright, ears laid back and whiskers trembling with rage.

"There is no choice!" She snarled, teeth bared for a feral instant. "You have a duty that is owed to the future. This should be especially apparent given the rarity of your species, but you have been poisoned by this nation's degenerate culture into accepting the lie that you have control over your body. You are an earthen vessel! Nothing more and nothing less."

Rose stared, entirely caught off guard by the ferocity of the judge's words. For a moment it had seemed as though the rabbit would leap over the desk and come at her with claws and teeth. Even now her fur was puffed up and anger burned in her eyes.

Katherine let out a small breath. The otter's body language was tense and unhappy. She looked up for a moment, but Rose saw only pity on her lawyer's face.

Across the room, the prosecutor had finished collecting his papers.

"If it pleases the court, I would like to request that the defendant be sentenced to reform rather than punishment." He said, giving the judge a knowing, almost conspiratorial look.

Katherine winced.

"Your honor..." She began to say, but was cut off by a bang of the gavel.

"Reform would be wise," said the judge. "This is a victim of the culture, with no husband, no children and no attachments. Her defiance must be crushed. She must learn to obey. I hereby sentence her to a term of no less than eighteen months at the Bright Springs Reformatory for Women. That is all. You are dismissed."

Katherine sighed and picked up her briefcase.

"I am so sorry." She said, unable to meet Rose's gaze.

Rose tried to say something, but Katherine was already walking away.

The stoat seized her by the arm, once more taking eager custody. Rose looked to the judge, but found no mercy in the rabbit's eyes. The dog came over and helped his partner, tugging her towards the door in the back of the courtroom. The floor felt sticky beneath her feet and Rose realized that she was treading upon splotches of half dried blood. A low, frightened whimper stuck at the back of her throat.

In some distant part of her mind she turned over the name of the reformatory she'd just been sentenced to. It wasn't far from the city, Rose had seen advertisements for it before. A place where troublemakers could be ironed straight.

She would be there for the next year and a half. That was such an impossibly vast stretch of time that she could scarcely comprehend it. Tears began to spill down her cheeks and she sniffled helplessly into the confines of her muzzle.

Past the courtroom was a long corridor lined on both sides by cell doors. Rose could hear people moving behind them, calling out or simply sobbing. Fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered overhead. The scent of blood and disinfectant filled her nose.

"Lots and lots for the reformatories today," the dog remarked. "You think the judge forgot there are other prisons out there?"

"The other prisons aren't paying her a cut." Said the stoat.

"Sweet gig." The dog said, sounding faintly jealous.

At this the stoat grinned. Rose felt a shiver advance up her spine.

"Not like we don't have our own special benefits." He said, then tugged Rose's arm, steering her towards the nearest open door. Through it was a tiny concrete room, blank but for a toilet, a steel sink and a raised platform on which was a thin rubber mattress. The only light came from a flickery bulb overhead, held within a cage of thick steel wires.

The dog and the stoat crowded into the cell with her, the dog shutting the door with a hollow bang. Rose's stomach clenched as she was forced to kneel on the cold concrete floor, the dog maintaining a firm grip on the scruff of her neck. The stoat produced a set of keys and waved them before her eyes.

"I'm going to take off your muzzle," he said. "Show me any attitude and you won't make it to the reformatory. Understand, kitten?"

Rose felt petrified but managed to nod, as she knew she was meant to. An ugly, sick feeling swirled in the bottom of her stomach, a fizzy faintness swimming behind her eyes. Perhaps she would simply collapse and not have to experience anything more.

The stoat unlocked her muzzle and tugged it off. Despite herself, Rose felt a surge of genuine relief. She grimaced and shook her head. Her paws were still bound, but the stoat showed no interest in undoing any more of her restraints. Instead, he put away the keys and slowly undid his zipper, smiling at the fear that flashed into her eyes.

The dog was quicker, shoving down his pants to reveal a pointed canine length, distressingly thick and already twitching. Rose tried to shy back, but the dog's grip tightened on the scruff of her neck, wringing a pained mew from between her lips.

"Stop, please..." She began to say, then felt something cold press against the side of her neck. The stoat had produced a stun baton, its prongs prickling against her skin.

"Nobody's coming to help you." He said, voice flat and eyes empty of everything but a sadistic pleasure in the power he held.

Rose swallowed the remainder of her pleas, though tears continued to well up, blurring her vision and wetting the fur on her cheeks. The stoat had to push a pair of fingers into her mouth before she opened enough to take his cock.

"So fucking willful," he muttered, but though Rose feared that he would shock her with his baton, the stoat put the weapon away and instead stroked her behind the ears even as he forced her to gag on his length. "Don't worry," he said. "This place you're going to will make you nice and obedient in no time at all..."

to be continued...