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Perks of the Job

by Declan Xavier

for Kris Havatarim

"Start recording."

The officer's HUD lit up, and the sharp beep informed him that the cameras had responded to his command. "This is Officer Kris Havatarim, executing search warrant L00910093." And after a few more details like the date and coordinates, he was ready to enter the location.

The thermals and wi-fi scanning had already shown the building was empty, so Kris was getting sent in alone. Well, as alone a Galactic Federation officer ever was. Waving his bypass key in front of the keypad, he waited for the signal to enter. He was kind of hoping that the bypass wouldn't work. Every manufacturer was required to program in something that allowed G.F.C officers entry with a special key. Sometimes they didn't, or sometimes the people who installed the lock broke the bypass mechanism. Those were always the fun ones, the ones that would allow Kris to kick in the door.

This wasn't one of those times, though. The light went from blue to green, there were two beeps, and he heard the bolt slide back. A little disappointed, he entered the building. The lights came up as he stepped inside. Someone was still paying the bills, at least. The first room was obviously some kind of reception area - a desk was set up near the back and a few cheap chairs lined the walls. There were no PDAs, no terminals, not even any paper files for Kris to start cataloging.

Each subsequent room was just as empty. Offices, break rooms, all of them stripped bare. The last three rooms held all of the surprises. The third-to-last room stretched along what would have been most of the east wall. Beds lined the walls, with enough space between them for medical equipment to fit inside little areas segmented off by privacy curtains. This was, apparently, how hospitals did it back in the day, and Kris shivered at the sight. There was something so...barbaric about open beds. Guess it cut down on the energy costs not to run pods. Still, nothing worth confiscating here, so the officer rotated slowly for the camera footage and moved on.

The second-to-last room was some kind of stock room. Cardboard and fiberglass boxes were stacked floor to well over the officer's head. Kris let out a little whistle as the lights in the store room came up. "Jackpot," he whispered, mindful of the fact that he was being recorded for official investigation purposes. "Deploying ECD."

The ECD or Evidence Collection Drone was a small device attached to his hip, a standard piece of G.F.C hardware. Unbuckling it from its holster, he set it on the ground close enough to the center of the room, made sure it wasn't under any light fixtures, and pressed the start button. Immediately a piton fired from the top, impaling the ceiling tile and sticking. Kris quickly made for the door on the other side of the room. He had about ten seconds before the drone started its job.

First, the two sections would make a 3D scan of the environment, each one covering what the other might have been hiding. Then, it would perform penetrating radar searches for hidden compartments. Next, it would do a chemical analysis of the environment for any explosive, hazardous, or flammable materials. Finally, the two pieces would start going through any containers or spaces it found, weighing and cataloging the contents, and summon an evidence collection vehicle with the capacity to fit everything it found. This was a lengthy process, and Kris was kind of miffed that it had to start on the second-to-last room.

With time to scope out the final room at his leisure, the officer turned to inspect the rest of the building. If the last part was 'jackpot,' then...well, Kris wasn't sure what came after jackpot, but it was the fucking mother lode. Taking up a majority of the space in the room was a large Alterer. Part bed, part pod, part octopus, this thing was where all the magic happened. The chemicals, taken from the storeroom he had just left, were fed into the machine and the person that was lying in the bed would get injected with all sorts of lovely enhancers, reducers, and transformatives.

And it wasn't just limited to physical stuff. Sure, there were all the necessary juices to give you a bigger dick, a bigger butt, smaller boobs, a tail, fox ears, whatever, but there was also the stuff that messed with the mind. Chemicals that produced geniuses were highly experimental and a few years from becoming common, but people knew about chemicals that could make you stupid since the first apes ate fermented grapes. You could kit out your new bubble-butted, big-boobed bitch with a bimbo brain to match. Highly questionable ethically if it was done in the right setting. In this back-world ramshackle clinic, there was almost no way that the good doctor had all of his paperwork in order.

Giving one last sweep of the room, Kris waited until the count of three and said. "Stop recording. Begin upload."

The HUD lost a lot of the pretty graphics that told Officer Havatarim how long he had been recording and how much space his disk still had on it. Then the upload graphic popped up. Satellite uplink time was measured in minutes. God, he hated these podunk little rocks out in the middle of fucking nowhere. Removing his helmet, he set it on a nearby table and rubbed his ears.

The helmet was made for an Ausar, and they promised that it would fit a Vulpatra. Being just a private and this being a pretty easy job, he didn't complain too much when he first got the gear, but after a while it really did a number on his ears. With the upload going and the drone analyzing the room behind him, there wasn't much for the officer to do but sit and wait.

Well, that was a lie, there was one other thing he could do. Walking over to the machine, he started to futz with the control panel. Like the lights of the clinic, this thing was fortunately still being supplied with power, and it didn't take very long for the screen to display a bunch of stuff he didn't quite understand. Kris' initial thought was to interface this thing with his suit's computer, but just the week before some officer got his kit fried by plugging into a protected circuit.

Running a gloved finger across the panel, Kris looked for anything he recognized as being particularly bad. Sure enough, there were juicers and drainers for just about every stat you could think of, especially if all you thought about was sex. He would have to document all of this, but with the drone taken up collecting evidence and the helmet sending its recording through encrypted channels, all of his equipment was in use.

Another swipe, and the Vulpatra officer got an idea. His own measurements were on file. G.F.C officers had to undergo physical and psychological testing every cycle, and his had just passed last week. If they took his measurements before the mission, and compared them with his measurements after the mission, and they were different, well, that would be literally living proof.

Besides, G.F.C officers got few perks, especially when they were as low on the totem pole as Kris was. If he was going to be sent to some dodgy planet on the edge of nothing, he was going to get something out of it. Punching in a few commands, he made sure that he was going to get a larger dick out of it. Not anything comically large, nothing that would look more appropriate on a horse than on a fox-man. Just enough to get the guys in the locker room to shut up whenever he dropped his towel.

Another few commands and he made sure that his other equipment grew at the same rate. He added a little bit more muscle too, to be able to carry the additional weight and put it to the best use. Treating the machine like an a la carte menu, he started adjusting sliders every which way. More stamina, increased sensitivity, the only thing he properly left alone was the libido meter. Finalizing the order, he hit confirm and watched as the screen turned red.

A warning came up, stating that the combination of enhancers that he had chosen might have the side effect of affecting his intelligence and willpower. The screen then him to confirm with the patient that this was an acceptable risk.

The Vulpatra blew a raspberry at the screen. "Of course it's fine." He had more than enough willpower, and his mental exams were above average for a G.F.C officer anyway. Knocking him down to his colleagues' level might actually be a blessing.

Hitting confirm again, the screen went from red to green, and instructed the operator to get the patient on the table while the chemicals started to move through the tubes. Tail practically bouncing in excitement, the office started to strip out of his uniform. Looking around, he didn't see any of those hospital gowns or anything to cover up with, but it didn't really matter. He was alone here, after all, no one for miles.

It took a few minutes to strip out of the heavy armor that he had been geared up for, but eventually the officer got down to his skivvies. After a few seconds of thinking, he stripped those off as well. There wasn't a mirror or anything in here, and he kind of wanted to watch the transformation. He was a natural born Vulpatra, not like some other people who took all sorts of drugs to get as far as he had.

He was slim, all lean muscle from a combination of rigorous exercise and strict diet. Kris could probably have been used in an anatomy class to study muscle groups, even under the layer of light brown fur that covered his body. He was a little shorter than most officers, but there was a hard limit to how short they would accept into the program, so he was still taller than the average citizen.

Climbing up into the machine, he gave his junk one last tug to both loosen it up and feel what it was originally like before the machine changed him. The apparatus recognized the presence of a person, and immediately started the procedure. Just as Kris wondered if perhaps people were sedated or straight up knocked out for this part, the machine hummed to life.

All over his body, he felt hundreds of tiny pinpricks against his skin. It felt like ants crawling under his fur until the machine whirred and they became fire arts. Every muscle in his lower body tensed at once, the lean muscle turning into a cable beneath the sandy fur. His tail, having nowhere to go in the machine, scrapped against the back of it as the bundle of muscle in the small of his back seized and refused to relax.There was a rush of warmth in his groin, where a lot of the chemicals were targeted, and he thought for a moment that he might piss himself. Then it felt like a hand had grabbed both his sheath and his sac, tugging and pulling. The feeling of warmth turned into heat, and the heat turned into electricity. Everything between his hips and his knees started to tingle. Looking down, the Vulpatra watched as his muscles started not just to tense, but to grow and swell. His thighs started to look like they were pressing together even as they couldn't move. He watched as his balls started to swell up, too, and the fuzzy tube of his sheath become larger, thicker. As he watched, the tip of his cock started to slide free, the electric feeling spreading up into the exposed part and getting stronger the more came out.

Even before he was fully hard, he started to leak pre. A steady drip of clear fluid hit the bottom of the machine pod before his shaft angled upwards, sending flecks of pearl out into the lab. For what seemed like hours, his cock grew and grew, thicker, harder, longer. He could see the veins along the length popping out from base to tip, and he could have sworn he could see his heartbeat in the red lines.

Finally, the machine's whirring stopped, and he half-stepped, half-fell out of the machine. His hips and thighs were still on fire, his cock was dripping, begging to be touched. Falling to his knees on the lab floor, the officer wrapped his fingers around his shaft and started to stroke wildly. The sensitizing chemical made it feel just like the first time, and he had never held onto a cock as large as the one he now sported.

As his fingers slid over the tip, they collected the leaking pre from the drooling slit and dragged it along the new length. Kris was now rocking eight inches of red canine cock, flesh that glistened in the light of the lab thanks to the lube that his larger package was producing. Even with all of the heightened sensitivity, the added stamina meant that he wasn't ready to burst quite yet.Watching himself in the reflection of his helmet's visor, the Vulpatra put on a show for himself. Twisting his hips to the side, he gave himself a profile view of his new equipment, his free hand reaching down and tugging at his sac. Rolling his larger balls around in his palm as he jacked himself off, the smell of sex started to fill the lab and his nostrils.Up and down, up and down his hand went along his length. Precum webbed between his fingers, but also between his scrotum and the underside of his shaft. He was making so much that it started to stain the inside of his thighs as well, and pool between his knees. Rocking his hips up into the hand that was stroking him, the officer let out a loud moan.His tail lashed behind him as he kept rubbing his length, his vision starting to swim at the sheer pleasure. There were some chemicals that could do this kind of shit on a temporary basis, but this was going to feel like this all the time. He couldn't wait to get back to the home base and show a guy, or a girl, or whatever, just what perks this mission came with.The Vulpatra could feel the heat of his balls working, and the heat slowly built behind his cock until he couldn't take it any longer. With a high-pitched yelp of pleasure, the officer came. His new canine cannon launched white spunk across the lab, splattering against the wall messily and leaving a shape to drip down the wall. Another yelp, and another blast of white, hot cum.

But the pleasure didn't fade, and his cock didn't flag. It felt too good to stop with just one, and Kris' hand moved up to the tip to collect the last dribbles of his first orgasm with his new equipment. The white seed acted like a second coat of lube, and he whimpered as he continued to rub his thicker, fuller erection. It was going to be hours while his drones and his helmet finished off their job, so the officer had nothing but time, and cum, on his hands.