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I Don't Care

Chapter A

By: Blobskin

Contains: fantasy, size-shifter, violence, gore, slavery

Version: 1

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Vion was the head of a slave caravan, a businessman through-and-through. His caravan was currently on its way back to the coastal city of Azure to pick up another slave shipment. So the cages were empty at the moment and his men were feeling lazy. Not that he blamed them. There was no cargo to play with and the chances they would be robbed were minimal. They may have been deep in the Atter Forest, but the only threat in these parts were wolves and a local tribe of goblins. Vion wasn't stupid though, unlike some of his employees. Letting his guard down completely was a very bad idea in the wild. So he occasionally yelled at his guards to keep an eye on the surrounding trees.

Which is why he was so grateful for Garret. The ranger was always on alert and regularly strayed away from the caravan to search for threats. The thin man's proactive defense strategy often brought Vion peace of mind. If there was something out there Garret would find it before it found the caravan.

Eventually they stopped for the night and built a modest fire to stave off the dark. While one man tended to the horses, and another prepared their meal, the rest pitched their tents. Except Vion. He had to make sure everything was in order. Which it was. The leader of the caravan nodded in satisfied approval. It was going to be yet another uneventful trip at this rate.

"Sir!" Garret called as he emerged from the trees.

Everyone was on alert. Some even went for their weapons. When Garret spoke up it usually meant trouble. Yet Vion remained calm. He stood tall and projected authority for his rabble of men.

"What did you find?" Vion demanded.

The ranger stood at attention to give his report. "There is someone else out in the forest. Another campfire."

Vion blinked. The caravan was currently parked by the road so whoever it was must have been surprisingly far into the forest if they couldn't see their fire from here. "Did you get a look at them?"

The thin man nodded. "I believe it is a female foxkin. Black fur. Alone."

There was a bit of chatter around the camp that Vion ignored. That was very strange. The foxkin were a beastman race native to the next continent over. They were exceptionally rare in these parts. Few could boast so much as seeing one. What was a beastfolk, a foxkin, doing out here?

"Anything else?"

Garret hesitated. His legs shifted. "Yes sir. She is... naked. And I saw no supplies. No bag. No tent. She has nothing."

Someone gave a low whistle. A few others chuckled. Vion was more confused. Who came out this far with nothing? Did she lose it? However, Vion's thoughts were interrupted by a suggestion.

"What are you waiting for Garret? Go get her!" someone called.

For a brief moment Vion thought against it. Enslaving random people along the road could stir up unwanted trouble if family came knocking. On the other hand, she was clearly far from home and probably poor considering she had nothing. And she was a foxkin. An exotic product that would guarantee high bids and make him a lot of money. He clicked his tongue and made his decision.

It was worth the risk.

"Go pick her up," Vion ordered. Someone whistled again. Garret nodded and disappeared back into the forest.

The ranger returned a little less than an hour later with the woman in question. She was about two heads shorter than the average man and her body was covered in shiny onyx fur, just like Garret had said. She had a fluffy tail that swayed lazily behind her, pointed ears, and a canine muzzle. She was also naked and her wrists were tightly bound behind her back. The camp cheered and hollered at Garret's return, every man eyeing their prize like a bag of gold. Or like a delicious slab of meat. There was laughter and a small celebration even as Garret marched the strangely docile captive toward a muscular bald man named Wern. The brute was happy to begin feeling up the curvaceous female while she stood idly and... just let him do it.

Vion immediately felt like something was wrong. A feeling that was not eased as Garret approached him and began to quietly report the details of the capture. The fact he was being discrete, not speaking loud enough for anyone else to hear, was itself cause for concern.

"Sir, I captured the foxkin without issue. And... without much of a fight."

Vion glanced at the ranger. "What do you mean?"

The ranger watched as Wern began to pet the foxkin like she was a dog and snickered. Others joined him. The rest of the camp was close to breaking out in a full-blown party.

"I tackled her from behind and began restraining her as quickly as I could," Garret explained. "At first she fought me. She struggled and tried to push me off. Then she stopped. She relaxed and let me finish tying her up. After that she was entirely cooperative. I didn't need to hold a knife to her throat, threaten her, or hit her once. She did exactly what I told her to do."

Vion eyed the woman in question. Garret's story wasn't unheard of, but the context was backwards. Normally slaves had to learn they were helpless. "Did she threaten you? Scream? At least bite?"

"She barked once, but she's been quiet since. She gave me no trouble."

The foxkin shied away a little from Wern's touches when he got to her hips, but her expression was disturbingly... bored. That was not a face of fear. Or hate. Or anything a woman who'd been captured by a band of over a dozen men should have felt. Was she stupid? Did she not yet realize she'd been captured by slavers? Vion watched as the woman distracted herself from the man stroking her belly by studying the camp and its inhabitants. Her eyes took in everything around her until she reached himself. Then their eyes met and that sense of wrongness made his guts twist.

Vion had seen those eyes before. It wasn't just boredom. It was the look of an aristocrat. Someone powerful looking down upon a crowd of commoners. Filth to be scraped off their boot. Yet she was tied up, surrounded, naked. How was that possible? Where was that confidence coming from? Even the wealthiest brat became a blubbering mess once they were alone and overpowered. Vion had seen it before. When wealthy families faced financial ruin and desperately sold their own children to pay off their debt. It didn't take entitled little urchins long to learn their new place. And while it was easy to say the foxkin just hadn't learned hers yet, an instinct deep inside Vion was screaming.

Somehow he knew this short furry woman was very dangerous.

Vion swallowed and glanced down, breaking that uncomfortable eye contact. For several moments he tried to reason it out. Who she was and how she could be so calm. Yet he couldn't make sense of it. He was still pondering when he was pulled back from his thoughts by the sound of snapping rope and Garret swearing beside him. When Vion raised his head to see what was happening he was left baffled.

The foxkin was not little anymore. Where before she'd been barely as tall as Wern's chest, now the situation was reversed. Wern couldn't even see over the woman's modest bust as she towered over him. Yet she continued to grow. Before Vion's eyes the woman swelled until she was fully thrice the muscular man's height. Each one of her legs was almost as wide as Wern himself. The brute took two uncertain steps back as he and everyone else gawked up at this amazon that had appeared. Meanwhile, the foxkin played with the shredded remains of her former bonds. Then she lazily dumped them on the ground. She put her hands on her hips and lifted an eyebrow at Wern pointedly.

Then the foxkin wrapped Wern's entire head in a single fist and turned it all the way around with a sickening crack. She let go and the huge man, with his head now facing the wrong way, dropped to the ground and began convulsing in his death throes.

Vion felt partial understanding crash into him. No wonder the woman had felt so confident. No wonder she felt no fear. She had never been in danger. But what magic was this?!

Panic erupted. Men grabbed whatever weapon was closest and charged.

It was a massacre.

Her swipes and kicks were lazy, yet every hit tossed a full-grown man aside like a doll. The blade of a sword couldn't seem to cut her and the wielder promptly had his entire arm ripped off. A hammer bounced off her thigh and the man holding it was soon crushed beneath a paw. An arrow got caught in the foxkin's hair and she quickly stomped over to the shooter, grabbed him, and threw him against a tree where he died instantly. Vion couldn't do anything but watch as his men, the team he had hand-picked and trained over the course of years, was slaughtered before his eyes. Helpless before the incredible strength of this strange creature. At some point Vion realized his most skilled fighter, Garret, had left his side to join the battle. And immediately had his face caved in by a single mighty punch.

Vion was the last one. Standing there, paralyzed, trying to understand. All around him were mangled bodies. Death. In front of him was a monster. If he reached up he might have been able to scratch the very bottom of its belly. How? Why? What should he do? Questions swirled. The woman eyed him curiously. She lifted a brow, waiting for him to do something. He didn't. He couldn't. He was frozen.

Eventually the fox snorted and rolled her eyes. She stepped forward, grabbed him by the throat, and then drove a knee the size of a horse's head into the man's chest. His whole front caved in with multiple terrible snaps. Vion's limp legs flew out from under him and his whole body bent in half, his head and shoulders only held in place by the massive hand currently restraining him. He gurgled on fluids as his lungs collapsed. Then the giantess tossed him aside like a piece of garbage. Soon everything was going dark and multiple thoughts were struggling to be the last thing on his mind. The indescribable pain. The questions of what she was or where she came from. And, even now, the allure of her tight rear gently swaying as she left him there on the ground to die...