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SPECIAL ACCESS

Chapter 8: Sanskrit Proverb - The wind sweeps the road clean.

Many other things were happening in the time it had taken Marcel to get to Washington D.C. and become a casualty.

As the former Chief of Staff Silver continued to pass on his responsibilities to Vikki. This included his personal contact list; those creatures that owed him or that he had some control over. One of these was a short, chain-smoking penguin that worked as a so-called journalist for the local sensationalist tabloid.

"I remember that you crafted a fake narrative with a threat to his life to get him to cooperate when he accidentally got a hold of information on FOX." Vikki said with a frown after reading the private dossier. "But what can he do for us?"

"Carlos is willing to go places and do things that legitimate journalists fear and loathe. Because of that he occasionally gets good information that no one else has. Unfortunately for him only the conspiracy theorists that read the rag he works for ever believe his reporting. Fortunately for us though he is so grateful for what he thinks was us saving his life that he always passes the more interesting news about our priority targets on to us first."

"How does he do that?"

"Through Bernadette."

Vikki raised an eyebrow. "The skunk in the mail room with the unhealthy fixation on you?"

"The same." Silver grinned. "Thank God Violet is here to fill in for Miss CC now. Every time Bernadette was here I had to have the Executive Suite steam cleaned to get rid of the scent of musk and skunkette cum. CC's chair in particular had to be replaced five times."

Normally Vikki would have chuckled at Silver's description of the skunkette that was prone to masturbate while fantasizing about her mate, but the thought of Violet being a step up made her frown. Silver saw her face tense and knew why.

"You are going to have to lean how to manage Violet." He said, not in a stern way, but in a tone more like a friend offering good advice. "She has some talent for this work, even though she came here by a convoluted route; just like most of our hidden gems."

"You mean like Geno." Vikki had originally disliked the Polish Cheetah too but had come to appreciate and respect the unconventional cat.

Silver nodded. "The same for Marcel, Dongo, Kyroo ... and you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Do you think FOX routinely keeps students that get crippled on their first mission on as agents?"

"I ... no ... yes ... I thought because ..."

"The staffing guidelines, which you will have to learn now that you are an executive, dictate that students or junior agents that receive a disabling injury prior to becoming eligible for a pension will be rehabilitated away from the Academy and then transferred to another department."

"Then why was I kept on?"

"Because I saw something in you, deep inside you, that spoke of your potential. Tanner trusted my judgement and W agreed to keep you on despite the Minister breathing down his neck. We may excel in killing people, but we also need to invest in the future and protect our assets when necessary."

He would have lifted her chin and given her an encouraging smile but as she was a paw-span taller than him he settled for putting his paws on her hips and staring up at her emerald green eyes. "Talent spotting is not your forte, it wasn't Tanner's either, but protecting those you love is. Channel that into your job and figure out a way to make Violet's talents work for you, and who knows," he continued with a grin, "maybe someday you'll figure out a way to reign her turbo-charged personality in."

As he turned to leave her office she called to stop him. "Have you figured out how to 'reign her in'?"

"Yes, I have."

"Are you going to tell me?"

He chuckled. "No. That would be like telling you what the Wordle of the day is. But I will tell you where to find Carlos. And if you hurry, you'll catch him in an embarrassing position, which will make him all the more eager to tell you all he knows about a certain Hermit Kingdom's space program."

* * * * * * * *

Carlos had arranged another meeting that day with Bernadette to pass on the latest intelligence, information and gossip that might be of interest to FOX. The squat, chain-smoking penguin that always wore a knitted toque with a Canada flag design no matter the weather, always arranged these meetings at Bernadette's apartment. He claimed that since FOX swept it regularly for bugs that it was a safe place. It also had the biggest, softest feather mattress that Carlos had ever come across, and the spread of quilted cotton was nearly as soft and large and bouncy as the delectable Bernadette herself, in his opinion.

He had stopped visiting the strip clubs like the Pigalle and the massage parlours that specialized in the more buxom breeds since hooking up with Bernie, as he affectionately called her. The plump skunkette had more than enough of the broad expanses of jiggly flesh that made his pudgy penguin heart pound.

Bernadette wasn't getting anything on the side either, and never really had, so each 'information trading session' began with her throwing herself on top of Carlos and driving him backwards towards the bed. Carlos had consulted Rusty, the Academy combat instructor on the best way to fall under a much heavier opponent and now could take a hundred kilos of flying meat like a twelfth dan judo master.

Today's meeting was no different. Carlos extinguished his cigarette under his heel before ringing her bell to avoid having the ember crushed between them ... again ... and singing his feathers ... again. As soon as the door began to open a black-furred paw shot out of the narrow gap and grabbed him by the stained Hawaiian shirt he was wearing and pulled him into the apartment. Before he could do so much as draw a breath, she had her lips locked around his beak and was spinning him around to drive him towards the bedroom.

He felt her tongue flailing around inside his mouth and her paws clawing at his belt. She was naked already, and her big soft belly and supple bust pushed him inexorably backwards until the backs of his knees hit the end of the bed. He fell back onto the feather mattress, remembering to bring his knees up to absorb and redirect her weight. Thanks to Rusty he could use her momentum to slam her head over heels into the wall behind the bed if he wanted, but that was not his intent. Instead, he let her down slowly, allowing the black and white fur encased sausage to meld with his equally ample, equally monochrome, feathered form.

Penguins were not known for their keen sense of smell, but he could tell what she had been up to prior to his arrival. The room stank of skunk musk and female satisfaction. He wondered who she had been fantasizing about. Probably not him, he admitted. Silver most likely; she tended to scream the tall silver fox's name when she came. Carlos didn't mind. He used to think of that blond Brit singer before she went and lost all that weight. Or the Australian Comedienne, before she slimmed down and came out as gay. Now he mostly though about Bernie, and when the pain in his groin got to be too much to relieve with a flip of his flipper he called her up to arrange an information exchange.

The information flow was mostly one-way, but occasionally Bernie would give him a tip about some diplomat or undercover operative in the area. He assumed that the secretive intelligence agency was giving him the info because they could not act on it without exposing some valuable source. As what could loosely be described as an investigative journalist Carlos could dig for more information, which consisted of tailing the subject to learn their dirty habits, bribing condo staff and servants and even resorting to blackmail. When he had something he would pass it back to FOX through Bernie to see if they wanted him to go public or handle it themselves.

If they wanted him to do it he would write it up like one the tabloids typical far-fetched exclusives. They were always claiming to have uncovered a new conspiracy or a nest of foreign spies and hardly anyone ever believed any of it, but foreign intelligence agencies did not like to see their undercover agents or schemes named in any sort of publication and the proof of his information was usually the sudden departure of said suspected agents.

Most of what Carlos passed on in their regular sessions was crap, of course. The kind of stuff his editors came up with splash across the cover page to draw in the suckers. But occasionally he came across a real gem, and most often he didn't even realize it. On his last meeting with Bernie he had let slip such a nugget. Bernadette had dutifully included it in her report to Silver, who was still the Chief of Staff then, and Silver had filed it away in the back of his mind for such time as it was needed.

It was needed now, but Carlos did not know that ... yet. For the moment he was fully occupied with dealing with the over-eager skunkette and as much flesh as a bird ever desired.

Bernie managed to loosen his belt and pull his trousers down and off without lifting her bulk off him or breaking the long intimate kiss that had started at the door. She got on her knees between his spread legs and dropped a paw to his groin, where she found him hard and ready to go. He had mounted the stairs with the painful anticipatory erection and nothing she had done since opening the door had done anything to wilt it.

Pulling his shirt up so she could pinch his chest where nipples would be if he were a mammal, she swung first leg then the other over so that she was squatting above his love missile. Carlos marvelled at her massive breasts and protruding belly, holding his breath in awe as the layers of fat beneath her fur jiggled and spasmed as she spread herself above his erect cock. With a sigh and a groan, she reached down to guide him in as she lowered herself shakily down on him.

She tossed her head back and cried out as cock settled in. He let out the breath he had been holding since ringing the bell with a sigh of pleasure and relief.

She was warm and wet, having, as he had noted, lubricated herself the natural way while awaiting his arrival. He was hard and hot and eager, having forgone similar self-stimulation in the hours prior to their meeting.

Carlos was no porn star, or, having seen the dildo she had that was cast from the big silver fox's penis, even comparable to Silver, but he made up for it in enthusiasm. Bernie, on the other paw, was no athlete in bed either, but all Carlos cared about was that she had the right stuff in the right amounts ... copious amounts.

Sparing her the effort of riding him like a pony, and sparing his pelvis a possible fracture, he flipped her over onto her back using one of the judo moves Rusty had taught him. Once on top she wrapped those deliciously thick thighs around his waist. Then her thick tail came up and draped itself along his back, giving him a warm and welcoming sensation.

Carlos buried his head between her ample breasts and began to flop and flair on top of her like a seal on the beach trying to escape an orca.

The heat of her body against his, of her breasts against his head as he squeezed them with his flippers, ignited racial memories of crowds of penguins gathered for warmth in the Antarctic winter. One of Carlos ancestors must have the kind if pervert that got off on rubbing up against hundreds or thousands of other flabby bodies because this was doing more to get him excited than the negligible friction of a small avian cock inside large mammalian twat could.

For her part, she found having a living, breathing partner excitement enough, but Carlos' cock was just long and thick enough to reach that sweet spot inside her like her longest digit could. His rolling and flailing also brought it into contact with her clit, which rose out from several fatty layers of flesh to enjoy the pressure and persistence of penguin penis while it lasted.

After only a few minutes of gyrating, which was about all his overworked heart could take, Bernie came again, screaming about great silver-furred gods and squeezing Carlos so hard that it was good thing she had substantial cushioning layers of soft tissue over what were still powerful thighs.

The gush of liquid love and the sudden whole-body hug was enough to set Carlos off too. Trapped deep inside her his cock twitched and jerked as a goodly supply of prime penguin spooge filled her cavity.

Their tryst had not lasted long, they never did, but neither cared because each gave the other what they needed. Plus, Bernadette would be able to get back to FOX before her lunch break was over.

Before they began the information exchange, however, Carlos lay back and lit up a crumpled cigarette that he pulled from some orifice or crevice known only to penguins. After sex was the only time that Bernie let him smoke in her apartment.

"The way you answered the door naked, grabbed me and pulled me in." He mused thoughtfully as he exhaled a lungful of nicotine and deadly chemicals. "What if it had been someone else at the door?"

"That is an interesting question." A strange voice opined from the doorway.

Bernadette sat up with more speed than someone of her girth should have been capable of. Carlos, who was used to Silver interrupting him in delicate moments such as these remained on his back, but puffed furiously in case the intruder, who was not Silver, not with that low sexy female voice, had a similar thing against smoking. As a reformed smoker Silver insisted that Carlos butt out whatever he was puffing instantly, and the big fox had once demonstrated what he was capable of with his Glock when Carlos was slow to comply.

"Ms. Beau- ... Chief of Staff ..." Bernadette stammered. Seeing the mate of her fantasy lover in her bedroom had her completely unhinged.

"Chief will do." Vikki said from where she was leaning against the doorframe.

"Chief! What are you ... how long have ... I mean ... how did you get in?"

"You forgot to close the door after pulling Carlos inside, apparently. Half your apartment building was gathered in the hall listening when I arrived. Don't worry." She continued when she saw the distressed look on Bernadette's face. "I told them I was from the Health Department and that you were suffering from a respiratory ailment I needed to follow up on. And I closed and locked the door."

"Th- ... thank you Ms. B- ... Chief."

Silver had told Vikki what she might encounter, but the sight of the two tubby sweat and cum soaked lovers was almost too much for her.

"Would you two mind covering up? And ditch the smoke, Carlos."

Carlos pinched the ember with digits heavily calloused form doing the same so many, many times before. The cigarette was almost done anyway. He tucked the butt away for later, then looked at the tall, slim, and what most would consider beautiful vixen that had intruded on their intimate moment.

"Do I know you?"

"She's Silver's m- ..." Bernie began but the vixen cut her off.

"I'm Silver's successor. You answer to me now."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Take a look at Bernadette."

Carlos glanced at the shivering skunk beside him and saw almost as much fear in her eyes as when Silver had caught them like this.

"Okay. What can I do for you ... Boss?"

"During your last ... meeting ... with Bernadette here you mentioned that you had your hooks into a North Korean Diplomat with a taste for ... the same things you prefer."

"You mean bratwurst and Dijon on a kaiser?" Carlos smirked.

Vikki's frown deepened and she clenched and unclenched her left paw unconsciously. Unfortunately for Bernadette that paw had been resting on the doorframe. Now she would never get her damage deposit back.

Carlos took in the way the vixen's eyes went dead and dull and then at the paw-sized chunk of doorframe that had turned to splinters and adjusted his attitude by about one hundred and eighty degrees.

"Yes. I know the one you mean. He was careless with the Embassy's payroll money and spent most of it at the casino and ... other venues. I introduced him to someone who could refinance his debts long enough for him to put the money back and in exchange he has been passing information to me. Most of it was classified internal gossip, the kind that the traditional intelligence agencies lap up, but the only thing I though you people might be interested in was that they had reached a dead-end in their missile and space program and had hired out their best rocket scientists to raise more foreign funds.

"Normally we could care less about what they do with their scientists." Vikki said. "But recently anything to do with rockets has become of interest. Do you have any more details about where those rocket scientists went? India? Pakistan?" Both were possibilities given the sub's current route.

"India's improbable." Carlos mused. "They are still pissed at North Korea for helping Pakistan with their nuclear program. Pakistan would be a likely destination but there was something that my contact said that makes me think it's somewhere else."

Silver had told Vikki to trust the penguin's insights. He had said, "Despite his lifestyle, attitude and general lack of hygiene Carlos has a keen mind and a eye for detail. He'd make a fine field analyst here at FOX if he didn't have the habit of getting into compromising situations so often."

Vikki shrugged internally and asked Carlos, "What is it that made you think otherwise?"

"He mentioned that they had all been hired by a single creature for a private venture, not a state-run effort. He seemed confused as to whether it was a cat or a bat, but whatever it was, her surname was not from that region, more south pacific than west Asian"

The fur at the back of Vikki's neck began to raise. "What was this cat/bat's name?"

"Rasielle, Saira Rasielle."

* * * * * * * *

It took Geno almost a full day to fly to her assignment.

She had been looking forward to taking a week off to be with the kits once school let out for the summer. There was a lot to do in Ottawa this time of year. The canal was full, and they could rent canoes or paddle boats to travel its eight kilometre length between the Hog's Back and the seven locks that lowered boats to the mighty Ottawa river. There were also a variety of museums to visit, including the ever-popular Museum of History across the river in Gatineau with its integrated children's museum.

There was hiking too, which was popular with the whole family. She would often carry Dwain in a harness since the trails were mostly too rough for his wheelchair, although one of the better sugar bushes an hour south of town, called Wheeler's appropriately enough, had trails that were wheelchair accessible. As a bonus its restaurant was open all year for pancakes with an endless supply of real maple syrup.

Now that the Covid restrictions were lifted it would be fun to get out freely in public once again, but her maternal instincts were not dulled by the fact that all their kits were adopted. She still kept an array of masks, sanitizer and bear spray in her bag when she went out with them, and was ready to use them should someone sneeze, touch one of her kits or call her a sheep for still wearing a mask in the grocery store.

But the outings would have to wait, for a while in any event.

Silver figured that whatever Rasielle was up to she could not pull it off by herself; her expertise was engineering and life sciences, not Astrophysics.

"Rasielle can't pull off a space program by herself, and the Asset would be of no help as secret agents are the intellectual opposites of rocket scientists." He told the others in the planning group. "She must be getting help from another nation. We'll send Geno to India because the sub could be heading there, and she has a contact familiar with the culture. Resident agents, Liaison officers and undercover assets in the other space savvy nations will be checking up with their contacts too."

Marcel had broken the news to her personally, knowing that she would be disappointed. She had taken the bad news with a shrug and packed for her trip overseas the night before. The next day she had gotten up at the same time as Marcel, who had to leave early for his trip by car to Washington D.C. the same morning. The kits had heard them and got up also for an impromptu family breakfast before their departure. Afterwards, Geno got them ready for school and daycare before calling Marcel's mother, who lived nearby, to confirm that the older vixen would be able to pick them up and stay the night with them as Marcel was not expected back until late the following day.

Rusty, the combat instructor that doubled as a driver for the agents, drove her to the airport for her flight to Montreal. From there she would board a Qatar Airlines flight to Doha then change planes to continue to India.

"You been practicing those moves I showed you?" the big doberman asked over his shoulder as they pulled out onto Prince of Wales Drive and left the Central Experimental Farm behind them.

"Sure have, Mister Nayles." She replied, teasingly formal. "But I don't think I'll be needing them for this assignment."

She was headed for Bangalore, officially known as Bengaluru, a city of 11 million souls, because it was known as India's 'Silicon Valley'. As such it was also the headquarters of the Indian Space Research Organization, the ISRO, India's national space agency. Her assignment was to make contact with some of the scientists from the ISRO and find out if any were in cahoots with Rasielle.

"Even the simplest mission can go south pretty quick." Rusty reminded her.

She thought about some of the some of the tales her fellow agents had recounted at the Agents' Lounge where the most innocent outings had led to unexpected and violent action. Going abroad was always a risk too, and if things did go bad she would be unarmed and have to rely on Rusty's training to survive.

"Yeah, you're right, Rusty. Sorry for being flip with you."

"No problem, Bitty Kitty." He chuckled, calling her by his personal nickname for her that he usually only used in the gym. "It's my job to bring you back to earth so you come back alive ... and mostly in one piece."

"Sure. Looks like Marcel got the easy assignment this time."

"You know it." Rusty said in a neural tone, his face blank despite recalling how Silver had ordered more anti-serpent combat training for Marcel yesterday. He wondered where the Boss had sent his favorite little student.

The flight to Montreal was uneventful. Geno was travelling with just a carry-on bag so there was no delay switching to the Foreign Departures area. Boarding for the Doha flight was quick, despite the clerk stamping her boarding pass three times while staring at her tits. Since she had slept well after making love with Marcel the night before so she was not sleepy, and the twelve-hour flight gave her plenty of time to reflect.

At first, she thought about her mission, and her childhood friend, Coyotka, who was working on a dig there.

Unfortunately, the coyote was working on the opposite end of the country, but Coyotka had managed to give her a few tips about the culture that would help get along while she was there. Things like wearing concealing cloths while out on the street to avoid undue attention, how to greet people, don't interfere with the cows that wander the streets and never, ever make fun of any of the dozens of religions and their practices.

There was a lot about sexual harassment and assault, but Geno felt that she could handle that end of things; she could manage the streets and she would be working in a strip joint, where the only sexual harassment that counted was the refusal to tip.

She thought about Coyotka's female companion from the region, the collie Ksi. It would have been nice to have a recreational threesome with her friend and the voluptuous blue-eyed collie, especially since the dog reminded her a lot of Silver's mate, Vikki, despite the height and species difference. The collie had markings similar to the vixen who was now Chief of Staff, had the same blazing red hair, and was missing the same limb.

Geno had always wondered what it would be like to get Silver and Vikki into bed, either separately or together, but Marcel, who was a bit of a prude, would hear nothing of it.

She signed. She and Marcel had reached an understanding of sorts. Screwing around outside of the necessities of work was strictly off limits, but a girl could still fantasize. Maybe later she would go to the washroom and fantasize a bit about Ksi or Vikki or both, since she wasn't likely to meet anyone satisfying among the rocket science geeks of the ISRO.

Thinking of Vikki and Silver made her think of Leslie, their son ... their natural son.

Although she loved Aldwin, Belinda, Charles and Dwain more than she could ever imagine she got a knot in her stomach every time she saw a pregnant female or a breastfeeding mother. She longed to have that experience for herself, to go through pregnancy, with all its joys and terrors, and childbirth. Her breasts ached when she thought of little lips sealed around her nipple, sucking gently while she rocked back and forth in the rocking chair she would make Marcel buy for her. And if there was any milk left after the baby was done, she would chase Marcel around the room and squirt him with it before wrestling him to the ground and letting him suckle while she rode him to orgasm.

She shook her head sadly. A natural child was something she and Marcel could never have. Cheetahs, especially her breed, were famously difficult breeders. The only way she would have a natural child was if she hooked up with another of the rare Polish Cheetahs, and they were all stuck-up snotty bastards; she knew this because she was related to all of them. Besides, there was no way Marcel would agree because it would definitely not be work related.

She had once considered seeking an anonymous sperm donner, but again, given how few of her species there were, the donner would likely be a close relative. She wanted a baby, but not one with jug ears, warped limbs and a pronounced overbite, like some royal families.

She stared out of the window for the remainder of the flight, all thoughts of fantasizing in the washroom forgotten.

As soon as she landed in Doha she turned on her phone and checked her business and personal emails. There was nothing new from FOX, which was good. Marcel's mother reported that she had picked up the kits, fed them and was supervising their homework prior to putting them to bed. Marcel had left a short text informing her that he had checked into his hotel in Washington and was on his way to a 'business supper'. He regretted that he would be unavailable as the venue was in a cellular dead zone.

That was code-speak to indicate that he would be in a secure compartment where even his FOX pager would not work. That was okay; Marcel's mother had the open line number for Missus Brown, the former agent that ran the FOX daycare and served as family liaison for FOX agents away on assignment. Brown could always get the Ops Centre to contact Marcel though the CIA should an emergency arise.

Geno changed into loose, comfortable but concealing clothing from her carry-on bag, donned sunglasses and headphones to keep stray males from trying to engage her in conversation and made sure that her weeding ring was obvious on her left paw. It turned out to be unnecessary. Out of consideration the airlines had seated all the unaccompanied ladies together in the front of the plane, near their own designated washroom, and had put all the single males in the back.

The flight from Doha to Bangalore was much shorter, just four and a half hours. With the flights and the layovers and the time change it would be mid-afternoon In Bangalore when she arrived. She was expected on stage that afternoon at the strip joint FOX had arranged her employment with so she thought she better try to sleep a bit while she could.

The Stewardess, a busty oryx, who's demure purple Air Qatar uniform still managed to be somewhat sexy, woke her as the descent to Bangalore began. As soon as the wheels touched down Geno fired up her phone to check the latest messages.

There was nothing from Marcel's mother, which was to be expected as it was still early in the morning in Ottawa. but there was nothing from Marcel either, which was strange because he usually texted her goodnight whenever he was out of town unless comms were restricted, which they weren't at the moment. There was a message from FOX though, a link to a news article, strangely enough. Geno clicked the link, believing that it must have some relevance to her mission, but when she read the headline her heart stopped.

'FAMOUS SKATEBOARD STAR INJURED IN TRAINING ACCIDENT' it read.

She frantically swiped down past the ads and other distractions to the main story. According to the sports-oriented news site the famous Canadian skateboarder, Antony Foxx, had suffered multiple injuries during a practice session for the upcoming Pan-American Games. The skater star had a dislocated shoulder and a shattered paw, the article informed her.

Geno knew that FOX must have released the statement through the fictional management agency that handled Marcel's cover identity. But by sending her the link it meant that Marcel really was injured.

She was about to google return flights when she realized that FOX would have sent a recall code if his injuries were serious enough to justify her return. She would have to wait until it was safe to contact the Headquarters to get the full story, but meanwhile, she took solace in the concluding statement of the article that "Antony Foxx was in stable condition and expected to recover in time for the Autumn X-games tour".

The weather in Bangalore was pleasant all year round, if you consider temperatures in the high twenties to mid-thirties Celsius pleasant. At least the humidity was not so bad, compared to the rest of the country, according to Ksi. The official language of the region was Kannada, which Geno found funny, expecting that people would end their sentences with "eh?" or call her a hoser, but mostly pretty much everyone involved in business, government or tech spoke English.

Rental space was at a premium in the crowded city, but Ksi had used her family connections to arrange a place a short distance from where Geno would be working. That would be an 'Adult Entertainment Club' called the "Male's Cave". It was ne of several adult clubs close to the ISRO Headquarters, but the senior scientists from the ISRO hung out at the Male's Club at lunch because it had a free buffet.

Geno had always found it strange that males would choose strip joints or massage parlours based on the quality of the food or booze as opposed to the quality of the girls working there, but while she recognized and could satisfy the baser needs of their clientele, she was a long way off from understanding them.

She checked into her rental flat first to clean up and contact FOX through a series of interconnected servers that even the dark web denizens had never heard of. When she eventually got through, the desk officer assured her that Marcel was alive, but in rough shape. The CIA response team that came when he triggered the emergency alarm had rushed him to an Agency hospital where he had been put into an induced coma to stabilize him until he could be medevac'd back to Ottawa.

He assured her that Silver had taken personally taken charge of the evacuation and treatment and, knowing that Geno would be concerned, had wanted her to know that there was nothing to be concerned about. There was nothing she could do for Marcel back in Ottawa and therefore she should carry on with her mission, at least for the time being.

Geno thought about that. Silver was cold-blooded, but he did seem to have a soft spot for Marcel. He treated the smaller black fox almost like a favourite bastard son, and Vikki would never leave Geno out in the field if there was any risk of Marcel dying. She shrugged and headed for the shower, determined to wrap this assignment up as quickly as possible.

The Male's Club was one of the more high-class places in Bangalore. At night entrance would be restricted to those with enough cash or flash to get past the door person. Those with excess cash could then entice the strippers into one of the 'champagne rooms' for a private show and a fuck. That eliminated most of the Government paid scientists, who could only fantasize about the kind of females that worked the night shift, but the day shift was different.

Day shift was mostly for girls in training and guys with drinking problems. It barely generated enough revenue to keep the doors open between one and eight pm, but lunch brought such a crowd of local white-collar workers and public servants that it paid for the rest of the shift and a bit of the general overhead too. It also gave the mobsters that ran the place a chance to see which local officials might be susceptible to bribes or blackmail.

The ISRO scientists that came in at lunch were neither rich nor influential. Most were unable to afford the champagne room even at the day rates. They mostly just nursed their drinks and stared at the day shift ladies and fantasized about them.

Fortunately for them, Geno was an expert in fantasy fulfillment.

Geno had taken the first day to get oriented, and to fuck the manager silly enough to let her have free reign. She figured it was work related; it had certainly not been for fun. Friendly and generous with sharing her tips, she integrated herself quickly with the other day shift girls.

By the second day she had identified the ISRO scientists. By the third she knew which ones knew more about the space program than launch pads and fuel mixtures.

On the fourth day she made her move.

She had made friends with and older stripper, a nilgai antelope with blueish fur and an elegant slender frame. She styled herself Amaira, meaning 'forever beautiful', but age was wearing her thin and she had been lately regulated to the day shift. A few more years of wear and tear and she might be demoted to waitress.

Amaira had pointed out the group from the ISRO. "Don't waste you time twitching your tail around them. That sloth bear in the middle? That's Chowdhury, the head of their rocket science group. He's a dirty old bear but cheap. He makes more than the rest put together but refuses to pay full rate for the champagne room, and none of the rest will pay to take a girl there least they embarrass him. The most you'll get out of them is a table dance split five ways."

But twitch her tail at them she did, along with a few other appendages. Once she was nude at the end of the second song of her set she moved to their end of the stage and made sure that Chowdhury got a good look at the prize when she teasingly opened and closed her legs right across from him.

His underlings appreciated the show too. They elbowed him and pointed from her to the champagne rooms in the back suggestively. Geno figured that they needed him to take someone back there so that they could too, and Geno looked like their best bet.

The penny-pinching bear stuck to his principles though, so on the fourth day, after her set made him visibly sweaty, she slid by their table hugged him from behind, and whispered in his ear, "Fifty percent discount on the champagne room fee for the next five minutes only, Chief. Applies to the tips inside too if you catch my drift."

Then she sashayed away, her six-inch heels making her legs taut and her ass swing.

"Five, four, three, two ..." she whispered to herself before being interrupted.

"Miss?" A strained voice came from bind her. She turned and was not surprised to find the bear on his feet.

"Miss?" His tone was a lot more sheepish and subdued then when he had been presiding over his subordinates earlier. "I would like to go the champagne room ... with you, I mean ... if you have time?"

She smiled like her ancestors must have when they cornered their next meal. "Sure thing, Honey. Follow me."

Chowdhury swallowed and with his crew cheering him on, dutifully followed her swinging tail and rolling hips into the nearest private room.

It was obvious to her that, despite his bluster the past few days, the chief rocket scientist had never been in the private rooms before. After taking his reduced fee Geno pushed him down into a comfortable armchair and pulled a platform up between his knees.

"Let me give you a little private dance first Chief, then we can discuss any other ... acts ... you'd like to partake in."

"Can I ... can I touch you ... while you dance?"

"Sure can, but keep your paws away from this kitty's pussy ... at least until you've paid for the privilege."

The bear grinned eagerly as Geno peeled off what little she was wearing and, keeping the stilettos on, climbed up on the platform. At this height her groin was level with his nose when she was standing, and her tits were in his face when she squatted.

She did a lot of squatting ... and stretching ... and rubbing. Rubbing herself so that the inner lips of er twat stood out pink and wet. Lifting her breasts and rubbing her lips across her nipples to make them hard and then rubbing them on his face, daring him to stick out his tongue to lick them.

He was shy, at first, barely touching her when he put his big paws on her hips, but he caught on quick and soon his rough pads were caressing her thighs dangerously close to the forbidden zone. He grabbed a lawful of ass and gave it a good squeeze. He pressed her breasts against the sides of his head when she leaned in and drank the trickle of sweat from between them.

She finished by leaving her platform to slide down onto his lap. The rigid ridge that had appeared under his lab trousers told her that he was hooked. Time to reel him in.

"So, you work at the rocket place?" She said in a low voice as she leaned in to nibble on his earlobe. "Whatcha ya do there?"

"I am the head of the rocket science division." He answered proudly as she ground her groin against his erection through the material of his lab trousers.

"You the guys that put the go juice in the tubes and stack them up to get the satellites up?

"No, no, no. Those are just engineers and technicians. Everyone in my division has a doctorate in physics. We determine the rockets' trajectory, so the payload gets exactly where it is supposed to go. It's very, very hard."

"Speaking of very, very hard." She said as she reached down to undo his belt and pull down his fly. "It's going to cost you eight thousand Rupees to continue." She encouraged him by rubbing his cock through the trim material of his underpants.

"Eight thousand! Isn't that quite a lot?"

Geno was insulted. Eight thousand Rupee was just about one hundred dollars US, and she had been offered thousands of dollars for a poke at her pussy.

"It's half price." She said through grit teeth.

"Alright." He said reluctantly as he reached for his wallet. "I assume you take MasterCard?"

Geno pushed his arm back down and began to unbutton his shirt. "There is an ATM in the lobby. I'll trust you to pay when we are done." She made sure to make his undressing slow and sensuous. "So, you tell rockets where to go? That must keep you busy."

"Not really." He sighed as she dug her claws into the thick fur of his chest. "The Indian space program is in a bit of a rut lately, but I have a private client which an interesting problem."

"Do tell."

"Oh, I really shouldn't."

She was working his underpants down over his bloated thighs, and she had just let her lips brush over the freed erection. But now she lifted her head and sat back away from him. "You're just trying to impress me with your crap, like all the other guys."

He reached for her paws to draw her back. "No, no! It is true! It involves some very tricky trajectory calculations a very, very difficult gravitational situation. A theoretical one though, because no private space program has anything that can withstand that much heat. But I had to sign a nondisclosure agreement, which the client surely can enforce because working for them with government resources is not strictly legal."

"Ah!" She said as she moved back in close enough to rub the head of his stubby cock against the exposed lips of her cunt. "You are a bad boy! I love that, and I promise not to tell if you whisper the client's name to me while I ..." She whispered something in his ear that made his cock twitch excitedly in her paw.

Chowdhury opened his mouth to say something but before he could speak a new voice interrupted them.

"There you are old chap! I was afraid that you'd played hooky on me."

Geno's head whipped around and she saw a red fox wearing a well-fitted tuxedo approaching. He was tall, taller than Silver, but just as broad and muscular. He looked vaguely familiar, but he certainly did not belong here.

"Hey buster! This is a private room! Get outta here before I call the bouncer."

"Oh, I spoke with him. He asked me to give you this." He said. As he stepped in close he held out his left paw with the digits loosely curled as if he had something to give her. Geno glanced down at the proffered paw and that was when he sucker punched her with the other. The lights went out for her instantly.

When she came to, she was still seeing stars. She tried to get up but everything in the room seemed to be moving in different directions.

Realizing that she had a concussion, she tried to slow her pulse and breathing, hoping it would clear her head.

When she could focus her eyes again, she saw the well-dressed fox leaning over the naked, prone body of the rocket scientist. In his left paw was a USB stick hanging from an ISRO lanyard that she remembered Chowdhury wearing before she began her private dance. He must have stuck it in his pocket to get it out of the way.

In the fox's right paw was a bloody knife. Squinting her eyes, she could see the wounds in the scientist's chest. They were not bleeding anymore, and she knew that was because his heart had stopped beating. He was dead.

The fox turned towards her. "Oh, you're up." He said in a cheery tone. He had a slight Scottish accent and that triggered a memory. Geno knew where she had seen that face before ... on a memorial plaque. The fox looked just like a famous British Secret Service agent, one that had died of old age years ago.

Geno had not been granted the special access required to be told everything about the Asset, so she had no idea why this creature looked so much like the dead agent. But whether he was a role player or a super fan who went too far, the dead scientist was no joke, and neither was the power behind his punch. This fellow was dangerous, and she needed to play for time to recover enough to defend herself.

The fox saw her looking at the USB stick.

"This trinket?" He said, holding it up. "It's something he owed me. Bought and paid for. He was supposed to meet me outside to pass it over. You must be one special lady to be able to lure him back here when he had such an important appointment."

He dropped the knife beside the body, stood up and brushed the dust off his tux. "I've known a lot of special ladies, and I respect your profession, but my friend here liked to brag, and I'm wondering if he told you anything that he shouldn't have trying to impress you."

Her head was hurting so much that Geno could barely talk. "Nothin'. He didn't tell me nothin'.

"Tut-tut. 'He did not tell me ANYTHING' is what you should say ... and I don't believe you."

The fox strolled over to her. She tried to crawl away but he grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her back. "Now, now. No need to be shy. I just want to ask you a few questions and, well, finish what Chowdhury had started."

He kicked her legs apart and dropped his tuxedo pants to his ankles. His cock was already erect and sticking out between the tails of his white dress shirt. He followed her eyes to it.

"Yes, one would expect it to be bigger, given his reputation, but I can fix that."

As she watched in horror the pubic fur around the base of his cock and on his balls turned silver and his cock grew thicker and longer, but not the way one normally did in Geno's presence. This looked like an entirely different cock from the one that was there before. As well as being larger it was paler, and the veins stood out in a different pattern than the previous one.

When she took her eyes off it and looked up she was shocked to see that the fox appeared to have shrunk a few centimetres. His fur was different too, darker where it had been red and silvery where it was white. His face had changed slightly also, a faint scar appeared though his left eyebrow and his brown eyes turned blueish, almost grey.

She recognized the fox he was becoming, even though she did not understand how such a thing could be. It looked like her fantasy about fucking Silver was about to be fulfilled, even though she had suddenly lost her appetite for extra-marital sex.

"It seems that I should know you in this form." The fox that now resembled her new Director said as he dropped to his knees between her legs and shuffled forward until the blunt head of his cock was pressed against her cunt. "He must have known you, or known of you, but didn't feel lust for you. I wonder why? No matter." He said as his fur reverted to its former colour and his facial features reverted to that of the famous British agent. "This one would fuck a woodpile on the off chance there was a snake living in it."

With that he thrust his hips forward and drove his cock all the way into her.

It hurt, a lot, but that was the least of her problems because as soon as he was inside he released her arms, placed his big paws on her neck and began to squeeze.

"What did he tell you?" The shapeshifter demanded as his grip tightened and spots began to float in front of her eyes again.

"No- ... nothing."

"Did he say anything about the sun?"

His thumbs were pressing down on her trachea, making it harder to answer. "No ... no ... just ... gravity loads of gravity ... and heat ... lots of heat."

He was drooling now as he continued thrusting between her legs. "What about Rasielle? Did he speak of Rasielle?"

Geno recognized that name from the mission brief. She had never run across the cat-bat hybrid when Rasielle was a student at FOX, trying to infiltrate the Academy for the secrets Sir Wilbur had buried there. She had, however, heard about the students Rasielle and her 'brothers' had killed and how they had almost gotten Silver, wanting him alive to breed with the artificially cross-bred Rasielle.

"Ah, I can see recognition in your eyes." The fox said, his hips speeding up as he reached his conclusion. "Did Chowdhury tell you about my mother or are you working for someone who is looking for you?"

Geno was getting light-headed and was afraid that she would pass out again. "Your mother? How can ... that bitch be ... your mother?"

"The Russians were at a dead end in their genetic program, but after she escaped the fire in the Canadian prairies my mother came to them for treatment. She donated her precious eggs, eggs that could fuse with the sperm of any mammal and create life. True, I was 'born' in a test tube and planted in the womb of a peasant for the few months it took my fetus to mature, but once they removed me from my host it was Rasielle that raised me and taught me my real purpose, to go underground and breed the future of our planet, melding the species, preserving the best bits of each, until they eventually revert back to the perfect life form that once ruled this world ... humans."

She was pulling at his arms, trying to remove his paws from her neck but he was too strong. He was too heavy to flip off her, especially in her weakened state, so she tried striking him in vulnerable places, but he easily deflected the blows without ever pausing in either her rape or strangulation. Darkness began to creep in on the edges of her peripheral vision.

"You are a feisty one." The fox grinned. "I can see why Chowdhury liked you. Maybe I won't kill you. Maybe I'll just squeeze until the blood supply is cut off from your brain for long enough to turn you into a living vegetable then shoot my load deep inside you. My sperm can live for weeks, long enough for you to produce a fresh egg. The baby should be born before Autumn. Don't worry, I'll come back for it before we destroy the world, the part you live on at least. He or she will be the first of the new order of universal breeders to join us underground."

"I'd rather die first!" Geno managed to spit out as his paws relaxed momentarily. She ceased her struggling and stuck one of her paws in her mouth. She bit down hard on the claw of her smallest digit and it shattered between her teeth.

The Asset was out and off her in an instant, slapping his big paw over her mouth as it held its breath. Beneath him the cat writhed and shook in obvious agony. White foam that smelled vaguely of almonds escaped from under his paw and out her nose.

It took almost a full minute but eventually her spasms stopped, and she lay still. The Asset gingerly lifted his paw, changed to the form of a canine with a long, wrinkled snout and sniffed his palm. Cyanide, his nose told him. Cyanide and a few other things, but the intent and result were obvious. Either she was trained to kill herself rather than be captured or she intend to spit the poisonous wad into his face. Both were signs that that she was a professional spy, not just some innocent stripper.

He used the poisoned paw to check her pulse. There was none. Leaning down as much as he dared, he checked for signs of breathing. There was no trace of breath either. He shrugged as he stood and used the champagne that Chowdhury had never touched to rinse the residue off his paw. Once it was clean he pulled his trousers back up and secured them.

He had hoped to take the scientist in the alley beside the club and make it look like a religion motivated killing but this was even better. Taking the knife, he wiped his paw prints off it and pressed it into the cat's palm. He had entered by the back way, avoiding the bouncer who was focused on the crowded lounge area, but all of Chowdhury's collogues would have seen the feline lead the bear to the private room. The assumption that she had killed the scientist would be inescapable.

The police would be mystified when they determined her cause of death to be self-inflicted poisoning. The federal authorities, however, would investigate because of Chowdhury's status and discover that he had been moonlighting, making some very bizarre calculations. They would likely assume that the cat had been trying to steal the information he had and then killed herself after the theft had gone wrong, least she suffer a worse fate from her employers.

Some authorities may be dissatisfied with that explanation, but since the Asset now had the only copy of the results of Chowdhury's calculations, they would not find out who or what those computations were meant for until it was too late.

And then, he thought, as mother liked to paraphrase from a chapter of the bible she had put all her faith in lately, the one called Revelation, 'the fire will come down from heaven and consume them'.

He listened at the door for the current act to enter its third song, when all eyes would be on the stage, then slipped out into the dim interior of the club, leaving the two bodies on the floor of the champagne room behind him. He slid down the dark hallway to the fire exit he had entered by, resetting the alarm and relocking the door on his way out. Once in the alley he put the USB stick into a zippered inner pocket, then he headed out into the crowded avenue, just another overdressed British ex-pat out for a good time in the entertainment district.

He hailed a cab and told the driver to take him to the airport. With any luck he would be gone by the time the bodies were discovered.

Kain Algorath © Marcus X Light

Ophelia Cassidy Sommer © Devil Kitty

Joel Grigori © Joel the Lemur

Geno, Coyotka and Ksi © Coyotek

Dongo Fett © Dongo Fett

Zachary Ember © EmberWolf

Grey Muzzle © Grey Muzzle

Kyroo Echos © Kyroo Echos

Natasha Winters © EmberWolf

Violet © Gray Muzzle

Saira Rasielle © SilentRampancy

Carlos © Carlos the Penguin

Dante Draco © Dante Draco

Henk and Dunya © Henk Cobra

The FOX Academy series:

Book I - The New Breed

Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa

Book II.5 - The Love who Spied Me

Book III - The Curse of the Yellow Monkey

Book IV - Wait for No One

Book V - Dawn of Vengeance

Book VI - Unnatural Selection

Book VII - Rogue Sword

Book VIII - Firestorm

Book IX - Diamonds in the Rough

Book X - Agents Lounge

FOX Flashback Novels:

Scarlet Necklace

The Finland Express

Other FOX tales:

Accounts Payable

A gambler's Share

An Opus for a Penguin

Casino Naja

Daffodils

Deep Thunder

Fear

Hard at Work

It's a Wonderful Furry Life

La Vie en Rose

Life of the Party

Not a Bed of Roses

Rest Stop

The Dead of Night

The Mark of Cain

The Volunteer

When Worlds Collide (a FOX/MLP crossover)