FSE

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The countdown started, and the tank's cannon was pointed directly at the gun shop. Both Weaver and Richter were scrambling for something to do. As the man in the tank's count reached three, Weaver just said to hell with it all! The bars on the window were iron clad, but with all of her strength, she jumped straight through the glass at the front of the store. With all of her strength, she pulled the bars from their hinges, and smashed them into the ground. Before he got to one, her webshooters worked their magic, and rapid fire disbursements coated the cannon's barrel front, plugging it up.

Boom! The webbing expanded, bulging suddenly as the shell hit it, but did not penetrate it, as it did not have nearly enough velocity. The barrel crinkled under the pressure, and the entire tank recoiled, rocking back and forth with a huge jolt. The megaphone mounted on top of the small, tank, which was now billowing smoke from every hole. The blue metal had expanded to a terrible extent, almost bending off every metal plate that made up its frame.

"Damn." Richter climbed out the broken window and began walking up beside Weaver, who was catching a little breath. "Fucking A, Bl--Weaver." He held up his fist to her, which she bumped with her own. The two of them looked at one another, and met in a kiss, mask to mask. His pure red mask, devoid of holes, met with her pink mask, which had two ovaloid white eye covers. Even when it wasn't fur to fur, the kiss was very passionate. She held his hand up to her breast and made him squeeze it as she sucked in air through her teeth, and let a little growl of lust.

The toxin both of them were affected by was still running strong through their systems. Neither of them knew what it was, but it was stronger than spanish fly or viagra. The two of them slid their hands all over one another, until the hatch on top of the tank opened up, acting very much as a chimney as more smoke rose up from its new egress.

Both of them rolled their eyes as they saw two hands come up from the hatch, and attempt to pull out of the broken machine. A white gloved hand reached into the hole, and pulled out a rat man who was now covered in grease, and soot. She held him up face to face with her. He smelled ever so foul, even beyond the layers of smoke and dirty lubricant.

"Not so tough without your extreme compensation machine, are ya?" She narrowed her eyes at him, and even through the mask, her expression was clear. "Now, who sent you?!"

"Get fucked, lady! I get paid too much to--" He was interrupted as her other hand formed a fist, and swiped him a clean hit into his semi-pointed, pink nose. He let out a cry of pain, and she held back her fist for another as blood began to trickle out of his nostrils. "Fuck!" He held his hands against his snout. "This is brutality."

"Do I look like a fucking cop?! You just tried to blow us to shit, you little wretch! Now, talk, or I'll turn your nose into a pancake, and then your teeth are coming next!" Her voice was that of a female, but her tone was that of a brute.

"I can't! He'll kill me! I can't or--" He started to shield his face as he saw the fox heroine pull back her fist once again. "AHH! Okay! Fine! His name is Dr. Fritz! He's in a lab across town!"

That was when both heroes turned toward down the street to see that the angry mob had heard the small explosion, and headed their way. They still had lit torches, and differing types of weaponry.

"Shit." She growled a little, then looked at him. "An address! Now!"

"5577 Brookside Road! It's called Com Tech! Please!" He let out a yelp as she dropped him back into his broken hunk of metal.

Before either of them could even think about escaping, the mob was running toward them at a horrid pace. There came a flying baseball bat that both of them dodged to the side, and one of the thuggish brutes grabbed onto Weaver's ankle before she could even react. Her senses were already going crazy. She kicked the thug in the cheek, but his grip stayed on her as he fell, pulling her off as she yelped in surprise.

"Weaver!" He shouted, but there was already another one climbing up onto the tank's treads from behind him. With a wide swinging haymaker, two of Richter's knuckles smashed into the large man's cheek and knocked him into a daze. He jumped off of the tank as the gangsters began to swarm his lover, and he desperately punched through them.

That was when three of them flew off into the air, screaming as she swiped her fist across all of them to get off of her. The spider fox's limbs were all in use at that point. When one of her fists punched one in the face, her foot met one in the midsection. She took one or two hits, one with a two-by-four in the shoulder, and the next was a glass bottle to the back of her head, but not hard enough to break.

The two heroes fought with every bit of them, but there were far too many, and many more joining in. Their arms pumped left and right, taking out chin after muzzle of the oncoming villains. Richter's arm was sliced by an oncoming knife, causing him to growl in sudden pain, already feeling blood on his fur. He grasped the crook by his wrist and bashed his fist directly into his snout. The hit was so hard, the ferret's head jerked straight back into the mouse behind him, and both of them went down hard.

As he was readying up his tired arms for the next opponent, they began to spread out and make way for someone else. That was when a black-masked polar bear stepped out. This guy was gigantic, and obviously had far more money, as his shoes alone were worth around three hundred bucks, and his black top was an expensive workout shirt. His muscles bulged, and the grin on his face said that he meant business. A whisper of the name "Berserker" was heard from the crowd, and they all stepped back. Even the guys with bleeding noses, and fractured jaws got up and stumbled out of this guy's way.

"I think it's time I showed these hobos how it's done!" Berserker said, adjusting his ski-mask to the side, and popping both of his knuckles as he began to approach the two who were gasping for breath after taking down well over thirty attackers.

Both of them dreaded his approach. They could beat him if they were both in prime condition, but the poison in their veins was no longer giving them the edge of anxiety that was driving them harder. It was beginning to look grim, up until someone from the sidelines stepped out in the middle of his path and stood in his way.

The black and gray husky woman smiled at him, fixing her long blond hair and gazing at him with such wanting eyes. She showed no fear of him, and even motioned a finger for him to come at her.

"The fuck is this?" Berserker asked as he still approached. He was but a few steps away from her.

"Dobryy Vecher! Is ze polar bear ready to play?" Her thick russian accent was palpable, and the voice was very comforting to Richter. She was ever so skinny, and about a foot shorter than the polar bear. Her blue eyes winked at him, and he began to laugh.

"Look, babe, if you're looking for a hot fuck, you're gonna have to wait a minute. Why don't you wait in my car?" He pulled out his keys and click the button, unlocking a car down the street as its flood lights flashed.

"Noooo, I don't think so, big guy. I am one who will do ze fucking, yes?" Her grin turned into a grimace as she strained herself. She wore a baggy purple and white jumpsuit that was entirely too large for her, but in just a few seconds, her skinny frame widened, and her muscles began to bulge. Her tits also became massive, coming close to popping out of the front of her jump suit. She grew ever taller, and her fur became an immense shade of green. Her hair was black with a green shine, and the blue eyes that stared down at Berserker followed suit, with a chartreuse shade that made her oculars look like they were glowing.

"What the.... Fu--"

He was interrupted as her large hand came to his muzzle, and clamped down on it, muffling his scream.

"Now, my little rebenok, what was zis about a hot fuck?" His hands gripped on her wrist, but try as he might, he could not even get her to budge an inch. "Zat's what I thought!" She cried laughter and lunged forward, with her hand slamming Berserker's head into the cement below. His head met the ground, and his eyes rolled back, bringing him to an unconscious state.

She stood up and looked out at the crowd of men with their knives and their clubs. All the sudden they felt feeble, and insignificant.

"This ain't worth a hundred grand!" One of them said, and as he turned tail, many of them followed suit. They did not even pay heed to Richter and Weaver anymore as they cowered away in droves.

Kritikal Mass's laughter continued, as the very large, green husky watched them drop their weapons in panic. After a good little guffaw, the woman stretched, disappointed at such a pitiful workout. She was hoping there would be at least one brave soul among the rest of them. Kritika sighed, and shook her head.

As she turned around to her friends by the small tank, her eyes widened to see that they were already pantsless and dogstyle fucking in the middle of the street.

"Bozhe moy!" She gasped, a big smile creeping to either side of her muzzle. "You two could not wait just a leettle beet?" She walked over to them, and admired how Richter's large, hard cock rammed into her wet and waiting pussy.

"No!" Weaver said, her hood over her head and mask, which she didn't even bother to take off. "The scientist--oohh!-- guy, he gave us some... fucking toxinnnn! Ah! It makes us... so fucking horny!" She tried her best to explain, but the rock hard dick plowing her cunt was making it very difficult.

"Wichter, how shameful." Even though she was saying this, her jumpsuit zipper was already being pulled down with her big, green furred tits exposed. Her hands began to reach for one of her nipples to pinch, and down to her sopping cunny to caress it. "I expected more from you... mmmmm!"

Just hearing Weaver's cries of ecstasy was enough to get Kritika going. She tore her leggings off of her jump suit and sat in front of the two of them, rubbing her sweet, dripping slit with a big, bedroom eyed smile on her face.

"Oh, God! She's watching us... so fucking hot!" Weaver could barely keep a grasp of her own personality at that moment.

"Yeah, she loves your nice big tits, babe." Richter said to her, and she looked up at Kritika. Weaver pulled up her super suit's shirt and unleashed both of her very buoyant breasts into full view.

"You like my tits? You fucking slut!" His hand grasped one of her boobs as he started to cum inside of her tight hole. She moaned ever so loud, feeling herself muscle through a third orgasm herself.

"Mmmhmmm!" Kritika gained some pleasure from being called a slut, making her move her big pussylips even more as her fingers slid inside of them and she began to fuck herself. Her tongue hung out the side of her mouth as she panted along with Weaver. "You two are getting me so hot!"

"Oh, God, I love your fucking cock!" Weaver's orgasms were starting to become more elaborate, and constant. She was becoming drunk with lust from so many climaxes. Her head was spinning, and his dick was pumping pure energy into her vagina. Her tits bounced back and forth as he banged her senseless, and more and more sperm spurted from her fuck hole as he came inside her a third time. "Yes! Breed me! Fuck me like a filthy slut! I want all of your man juice!"

"Yes!" Kritika shouted as she reached her own climax, a torrent of juice spilling from her cunt. She lavished in the feeling, and grinned as she started to rub herself harder. Porn was one thing, but seeing the two of them fucking live was indescribable.

The large, green husky woman reached her second climax quickly, and just in time, it seemed. The two of them seemed to be running out of steam. Richter pulled his softening member from her gushing vagina, and the two of them pulled off their masks to get some better air.

"Hey, Kritika." He said as he looked down at his aching penis. The fur on his groin was now matted with semen, and sexual fluids.

"Da?" She said as she licked her juice from her fingers.

"Thanks for your help. We'd be dead if it weren't for you." He slowly began to pull up his pants. The effects of the serum were beginning to wear off, it seemed. When his cock went limp, it only had a few more signs of life remaining, and his head was beginning to swirl. Weaver was not faring much better, cramps began to bite at her hips, and the sides of her abs. She got up from the ground, pulling up her pants, pulling down her shirt, and popping her back with five audible clicks.

Of course, the sirens could be heard in the distance. Before the police ever came to Poundtown, they always brought out an army of officers and SWAT Teams. The two of them grimaced at the thought of going all the way through town on foot. Weaver was entirely too exhausted to swing on her web, let alone carry Richter with her.

"Allow me." Kritika said as he picked both of them up with either arm. With her powerful legs, the large husky woman lunged into the air. From building to building, she brought them across NYC to their home. The grateful pair waved to her as she bid them farewell, and dashed off.

---

The two of them slept for twelve hours straight, and after a very slow morning, they paid a visit to the building that the rat told them about. They knew the name was Dr. Fritz, and the fact that he worked at such a large corporation as Com Tech meant that they would need to start watching them very closely now. They were sure that this would not be the last time they heard from their friendly doctor.