# NCIS Meets KFB - 1

Author: KevinFoxboy
Tags: Fanfiction, Fox, Human, Male, Noncanon, Series, ncis

#1 of FanFiction

My first attempt at fan fiction; I'm using someone else's characters in my situation. If copyright holders get upset, just note me and it's gone. An NCIS murder case takes Gibbs's team to a genetics lab, and furry servants.

 NCIS meets KFB - 2012-0103.1314  
[Belisarius Productions' NCIS characters used in  
noncanon situation without copyright holder permission]  
  
If you know the show and characters, check my portayal accuracy. If not,  
NCIS team members aren't mine; other characters and situations are my  
pervy creations. Everything's someone's intellectual property, so read and  
enjoy, don't copy or redistribute. More Biological Synthetics stories on  
Kevin Foxboy's SoFurry profile.  
  
\* \* \*  
  
One of the strangest cases the Naval Criminal Investigative Service  
dealt with was the murder of Chief Petty Officer Danielle Roberts. The group  
was formed as a military detective force, to deal with anything having to do  
with United States Navy personnel, whether on ships, on US soil, or foreign  
bases.  
  
Unfortunately, their expertise was needed, because Americans weren't always  
loved and even were killed by other Americans. It usually boiled down to lust  
or greed. Seven deadly sins were alive and well two thousand years after a  
nice Jewish boy was tied to a tree for saying, "Let's all be \*nice\* to each  
other!"  
  

  The NCIS was overseen by the US Secretary of the Navy. The military loved  
acronyms, and called the official SecNav. The military excepted itself from  
civil rights laws so it was always a man.  
  
One of the groups of investigators was headed by Leroy Jethro Gibbs. His  
team referred to him as Boss to his face, Gibbs among themselves and to  
others. The Director of NCIS called him Gibbs too. I don't think any of  
his four wives (one at a time) called him Leroy.  
  
Gibbs had been in the Marine Corps and still wore his graying hair cut  
short. He said "There's no such thing as an ex-Marine" which probably meant  
that the discipline and loyalty stayed with a man even when he retired. He  
still acted like one of "the few, the proud, the Marines."  
  
The senior investigator under Gibbs was Anthony DiNozzo Jr and he had a  
roving eye for women. He liked women so much he never stayed with just one  
at a time, so he never married. His father had of course, before Junior was  
born, all nice and legal in the USA.  
  
He'd been a cop in Baltimore Maryland until a murder case led to the Navy  
and he'd been impressed by Gibbs and his team. Gibbs had been less impressed  
with Tony, because his womanizing got in the way of his investigating.  
  

  Gibbs saw Tony throw away opportunities for advancement, and knew the  
younger man could do better. He expected a lot from his team, there was no  
settling for second best. "Be all that you can be" wasn't just for the Army.  
  
Gibbs had a rather unsettling way of showing Tony when he thought Tony'd  
messed up. A slap on the back of his head was technically an assault on a  
federal officer, but Gibbs was one too, and Tony put up with it.  
  
One of the problems with catching murderers of naval personnel was, some-  
times they fought back, and a few were actually agents of foreign governments.  
Some of the spooks got into gray areas, such as infiltrating terrorist organ-  
isations, and became threats when they put their governments ahead of America.  
  
To be blunt, some NCIS Special Agents were killed in the line of duty. There  
was a wall in the office opposite the 'Most Wanted' posters, and everyone dealt  
with the pain of another KIA picture in their own way.  
  
\*  
  
The man who had the most contact with murder victims was of course the  
Chief Medical Examiner Dr Donald Mallard. A Scotsman originally, someone had  
taken his family name and nicknamed him 'Ducky'. He'd resented it at first,  
but got used to it, and even introduced himself that way. "Call me Ducky,  
everyone does."  
  

  I think the man's a bit creepy because he has to deal with dead people. He  
tries to make light of it, by talking to them. "Let's see what you have to  
tell us", by which he meant, what forensic evidence such as bruises, skin  
scrapings, lint or animal hair would help solve a case.  
  
He sent the evidence up a floor to the forensics lab for analysis. The tech  
was one Abigail Scuito, who used the name Abby. She was also a Goth who wore  
a dog collar to work and tattoos on various intimate body parts she didn't show.  
  
The woman slept in a bed shaped like a coffin, even with a lid! But she  
didn't seem morbid or depressed. In fact, the day she met Danielle, Abby was  
engaged in a war of wills with Major Mass Spec, which was her whimsical name  
for the mass spectrometer which revealed what a sample was made of.  
  
Major Mass Spec seemed to have it in for Abby this morning. Maybe it was  
mad she'd pushed the maintenance tech out of the lab, which she thought of as  
'her' territory. He was just a distraction, in the way of her using the Spec  
because Gibbs was pushing her to solve another case.  
  

  Major Mass Spec was complaining about the lack of personal care. At least  
that's how Abby anthropomorphised the thing, which basically heated a sample  
to vapor, destroying it. Then polarised light shone through the vapor and the  
vapor absorbed light in specific patterns according to the physics of how the  
molecules were built.  
  
You probably thought high school chemistry and that Periodic Table of the  
Elements was just boring stuff that kept you away from intimate meetings with  
your boy- or girl- friend. I don't care which, so go ahead and admit it! But  
Abby had absorbed the chemistry and physics eagerly, and now she got to Make  
a Difference in the World. Are you?  
  
Anyway, Abby thought there was a problem because she kept getting a reading  
of fox hair mixed with human skin cells. Even the DNA seemed confused. She  
called down to Autopsy to ask Ducky where he'd gotten the sample, and accused  
him of contaminating it somehow.  
  
Ducky usually tossed this stuff off like, well, a duck tosses off water. But  
today he was short-tempered, mainly because his own forensic examination had  
turned up contradictions. Fox fur and claw bits on Chief Petty Officer Dani-  
elle Roberts seemed to say she was murdered while caressing a fox, but that  
was obviously senseless.  
  

  Foxes weren't human-sized, and they certainly didn't have human DNA! But  
that's what Ducky's samples said, and Abby's Major Mass Spec said the same.  
Then what the \*hell\* had Roberts been up to? Where and when had she met a  
fox and gotten its fur in, well, places Ducky needed his professionalism to  
muck around?  
  
\*  
  
Special Agent Gibbs came down to Autopsy to interrupt Ducky's irrita-  
tion. Gibbs did this frequently, and Ducky thought he was just interfering in  
the CME's territory. Despite Ducky's somewhat shady past having to examine  
people killed in wars, he didn't seem to twig this was Jethro's way of getting  
Ducky to take a break, step back and take a metaphorical breath of fresh air.  
  
See, the thing is, people get too focused on little problems and forget how  
they all fit together. Fitting them is how you catch the crook. And asking  
questions got Ducky to have to explain, so he had to organise his thoughts.  
Jethro hadn't risen to become a Chief Gunnery Officer in the Marines by just  
being a gung-ho Rambo type.  
  

  Investigation is part science, part psychology. Learn how a bad guy thinks  
to predict his behaviour and trap him into confession. Then throw the basterd  
in a cage, lock it tight, and forget about the cage, not just the key. Society  
has a duty to protect itself from sickies.  
  
Gibbs listened to Ducky's usual ramblings, as he thought out loud and rela-  
ted the new data to something he'd already encountered. Gibbs had learned Ducky  
thought this way and let the man free-associate for about five minutes, then  
interrupted to get Ducky back on track.  
  
How the \*hell\* do you get evidence so FUBAR it says there was human and fox  
DNA on the dead Petty Officer? It was worse than some human hair and then some  
fox. Abby's mass spec said it was mixed together in one sample! And it wasn't  
just one, it was all the forensic evidence on the dead woman.  
  
There was evidence the woman had been, ahem! \*with\* someone just prior to  
her death. \*How\* she died was still unknown, there were no ligature marks or  
partiecial hemorrhage from strangulation. The wide lines of bruises on her  
wrists and ankles showed she'd been tied down.  
  

  But there were no rope marks or any patterns. And no fibers to match to  
material. Whatever had held her while she was forcibly pleasured had left  
no evidence. But there was plenty of evidence of her repeated pleasure.  
  
What little evidence was left on the body pointed to her being held down,  
but she hadn't struggled. If it was rape, why not? The toxicology report  
showed traces of MDMA, the rave drug Ecstasy, but it wouldn't keep her from  
fighting. She might feel a bit friendly, but she'd know what was being done  
to her.  
  
And there was that damn fox DNA again! Danielle had been repeatedly raped  
by a human fox, that's what Ducky's and Abby's examinations showed. And she'd  
very obviously enjoyed it. The best theory the forensic team could come up  
with was the petty officer had had an intense sexual experience with a group  
of human foxes!  
  
And they had better endurance than the woman, because they weren't at the  
scene where she'd been found naked and gooey and very satisfied. But dead. A  
myocardial infarction? A blood clot could stop the heart, and if she'd been,  
erm, exercising she'd die quickly from lack of oxygen.  
  

  \*  
  
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wasn't the first to say that if you eliminate  
the impossible, whatever's left, however improbable, must be the truth. He  
had his detective Sherlock Holmes use the reasoning repeatedly to solve crime,  
and although Holmes and Watson were fiction, the concept holds true.  
  
For NCIS Director Vance the case was particularly vexing, because it was so  
obviously impossible. Foxes are small canids, related to dogs, and they might  
bite and give someone disease, but they didn't pleasure people to death.  
  
The killer had to be human. Even if Danielle had died of a heart attack, it  
was caused by some sick basterd they could out-think and catch. So it wasn't  
very probable, but it had to be that that he wore a fox-fur jacket, or scarf.  
That would explain the mixed DNA Dr Mallard found.  
  
Maybe several scarves, that would explain holding her down but not bruising  
her. To be perfectly honest, since he'd worked in Washington DC USA he'd had  
to learn about kinky stuff, and he thought the whole government was full of  
corrupt sickies who'd love to use fur to attack people.  
  

  Vance hadn't always been so pessimistic. But he'd read Mark Twain books,  
and Sam Clemens had said that Congress was America's native criminal class.  
He'd seen enough underhanded stuff from elected officials, and it wasn't  
just political smear campaigns and tawdry sex.  
  
OK, so there was just one more sicko loose in Washington. A fur killer.  
Vance sighed, because he knew the guy was out there somewhere, cackling his  
sicko head off hidden among all the other sickos. And the sickos were elected  
to run the country!  
  
The next problem was, you had to be \*really\* sure something was impossible  
before eliminating it. He'd have thought poisoning someone with a radioactive  
pellet injected by a rifle concealed in an umbrella was impossible, but there  
was that guy in England.  
  
So was it \*really\* impossible to mix fox and human DNA? Vance knew the term  
'chimera' and talked to Gibbs about the way-off-the-wall concept. Gibbs was  
skeptical about the Director's sanity, but when he asked Agent Tim McGee about  
it, the young computer-nerd took the idea and ran with it.  
  

  \*  
  
As it happened, Vance's way-out question turned the tide in the inves-  
tigation. Gibbs barely used email and left the tech stuff to Tim, who did some  
nerd stuff and came up with the webpage of Biological Synthetics Incorporated,  
"the world's premier company in the field of DNA recombination." Jackpot!  
  
There were two branches of the company that was started in the early 1990s  
by Mark Harris and Tom Warner for DNA research. No one else realised that they  
didn't need to sequence all three-billion DNA pairs, just the ones that made  
synthetic insulin and blood plasma.  
  
Sell to hospitals, get enough profit and government grants to go further.  
Synthetics don't have antigens, so no body rejection! With the new micropumps  
from Hot!Tech, diabetes simply disappeared! And mass production made the  
products relatively inexpensive.  
  
I know yer eyes are glazin over so I'll skip the details. BSI Medical made  
Recombinant DNA practical with human bone marrow, red and white blood cells,  
whole blood. They made little cholesterol-eating cells. Heart disease stopped.  
  

  BSIMed entire organs were next. Totally organic, totally 'real'. Just made  
in labs, not people. No exploratory surgery, just DNA-based tests find a sick  
body part. Replace it with a new one, BSI style. Synthetic, built immune to  
disease.  
  
There was a "Frankenstein's Monster!" backlash against fully-made artificial  
people. Way too creepy! So the government made BSIMed mix animal DNA in, and  
the second branch, BioSyn Labs was born. Animal-people walked almost upright  
and talked simple English, but they were dumber than animals without instincts.  
  
On purpose. Chimera were products, and nobody wants their product getting  
ideas. Recom DNA Level Three Generation Two laborers and guards were just  
self-mobile tools you could order around.  
  
The BSIMed organs were stronger, better than natural organics. The R3G2s  
were stronger, faster than humans, but totally obedient to the one who bought  
them. They were made that way, to control them.  
  
Scientists can't leave 'good enough' alone, they have to keep mucking about.  
BioSyn Labs added a bit of mind to chimera, keeping them obedient but making  
domestic servants. Laborers had to be told every step, they could barely fig-  
ure out how to walk without being told step left, step right, over and over.  
  

  R4s are brighter. Still dumber than some work dogs, like Hungarian Pueleys  
that know a hundred different commands for herding sheep. All this background  
led Gibbs and his team to a field trip to Butte Montana USA, the only DNA mix  
production line in America.  
  
They were quite shocked when they arrived in Butte's little airport. OK,  
airports weren't a shock, but baggage claim had all their luggage undamaged,  
which was a nice change from American companies.  
  
The shock came when they saw their limo driver. He, or maybe it, was a DNA  
mix rabbit! The long floppy ears, quivering whiskers, white fur. Gibbs thought  
of Alice in Wonderland and wondered if he'd somehow been slipped some weird  
hallucinogenic mushrooms.  
  
When the Rabbit got out to help them put their luggage in the boot, I mean  
trunk in America, the team got the second shock. The Rabbit was barefoot with  
just a formal jacket and skimpy shorts on his furry body! And his puff tail  
looked quite comical as he partly hopped. Tony found himself hoping they  
made girl Rabbits too.  
  

  The Rabbit was stronger than any human. Well, maybe not body-builders, but  
he handled the luggage like the heavy ones were no difficulty. "I'm made this  
way, Sirs." he said helpfully. He barely pronounced the m's and stretched the  
s's with an inhuman but quite understandable voice.  
  
\*  
  
OK, so Vance was right about Ducky's and Abby's evidence of both ani-  
mal and human DNA. The team talked with Melissa Thompson because she was head  
of the chimera department. She works in Lab Four making R4G2 servants and sex  
workers.  
  
Yes, she made fox-human mixes. But she controlled their DNA and thus their  
minds, and was quite adamant that no mix could even think of hurting a human  
without being paralysed in the mind. She'd made them that way on purpose and  
made sure the electric shocks burned their minds into total obedience.  
  
But the team had thought to bring along a sample of their forensic evidence.  
Sure, Mel could analyse the DNA and narrow down who, or rather what, had pro-  
vided the fur. Due to the fact she operated several high-powered workstations  
the human was bright enough to ask why they wanted to know.  
  

  Mel Thompson knew she could think of different avenues of investigation.  
Gibbs was pretty cagey, because it was possible Mel had used a fox to murder  
Danielle Roberts, despite her claims to the contrary.  
  
It wasn't impossible, so she was a suspect. Now they knew chimerae existed,  
every single one of them had to be interrogated, especially the foxes. The  
first one they talked with was a lovely light gray girl fox. She was R4G2/  
KvJ31, and her name was Betty.  
  
Well, it was another shock for the team, because Betty was a product and  
Mel had mixed her DNA to make her into a man's possession. A slave to be  
blunt, and mixes are taught how to please men and women on the floor and  
in the bed. Betty's original buyer had died in a car accident, and she'd  
been thoroughly despondent, unable to help train younger mixes until one  
younger foxboy helped her remember her duty and showed her she was wanted.  
  
Anyway, Betty was led in on a leash, rather like a dumb dog pet except she  
walked mostly upright. Mixes look a lot like short people who happen to be  
furry. Until you get to the obvious animal head.  
  

  DiNozzo wasn't looking that high. His overdeveloped sense of lechery had  
looked up the beast, from her bare hindpaws up her long digitigrade foot  
arches, her heels in the air, her bent ankles sliding furrily up her shins  
and calves to her knees. Bent unlike a human, and Tony's roving eyes slid  
up the vixen's lower, mid, and upper thighs.  
  
Betty was definitely a fox. And like an animal, she didn't wear clothes.  
At all! Even Gibbs looked at her curvy body, especially her very human-shaped  
breasts, because they swung freely as she walked and were only covered with  
fur. Nobody could see more than the basic curvy shape you'd see in a Vic-  
toria's Secret lingerie advert.  
  
As Betty was a slave, she wore two-inch wide leather cuffs around her neck,  
both wrists, both ankles. They had D-shaped rings which tinkled musically as  
she walked on leash. Abby was kinky enough to know what the rings were used  
for, Tony just thought with his little head as usual, Tim's mind was pretty  
useless with organics and Gibbs let himself stare.  
  

  Mel knew what effect a nude fur slave had on men so she just let them get  
an eyeful. Betty was made and bent to enjoy men looking her over, so she  
knelt submissively when Mel gently snapped the leash down. Betty was very  
well trained and very submissive.  
  
Gibbs had to ask for water to clear his throat. Mel released Betty's leash  
and ordered the animal to stand and fetch a tray, a pitcher of cold water,  
and six drinking glasses. The NCIS agents noted Mel had to use the word  
drinking.  
  
\*  
  
So Betty knew of other things called glasses. Abby's keen mind was  
already planning questions, the men were struggling to keep up. Their minds  
I mean. They saw the female's smooth body movements as she stood, turned and  
walked out. Her bushy tail waved suggestively as it alternately covered and  
revealed her unclothed rump.  
  
It was definitely possible someone had lured Danielle to some kinky party  
with fur slaves, given her a fox to distract her, and ordered the beast to  
perform. Since chimera are stronger with greater endurance than humans, even  
a male could have pleasured her repeatedly and vigourously enough to cause a  
heart attack.  
  

  Quite soon the nude vixen returned. She knelt and offered the tray to her  
Mistress, Melissa Thompson. Mel slid the tray onto the table and let Betty  
up enough to pour water for Gibbs, Ducky, Tony, Tim and Abby. As guests they  
were to be served first, then Betty served her Mistress.  
  
The vixen was just a beast so she wasn't allowed to sit and drink. And with  
her long skinny fox snout, she couldn't drink like a human could. She'd have  
to be allowed a drinking straw since the glasses were far too narrow for her  
long tongue to form a dipper as dogs do.  
  
Betty knelt submissively after Mel took the sixth glass. She tried to hide  
her glance to the water dish shared by any mix who came here, but Mistress  
Mel saw and clucked. Betty immediately faced front and ducked her head. She  
was afraid of punishment.  
  
Gibbs interrupted. He asked Betty if she'd been away from the building at  
any time in the past week, and was surprised Betty asked him, "what word,  
Master?" He'd never been called master before and was uncomfortable with  
the word.  
  

  Sure he'd called Marine officers Sir, but he'd enlisted and worked for a  
living. He'd been Gunny, never Sir. And sure he'd owned dogs, so he'd been  
their master, but they never talked to him. This sexy vixen responded to  
his assertive bearing and wanted to serve him, up close and personal.  
  
The way she looked at him and moved her body told him that much. Betty  
wanted to submit to Tony too, because he obviously desired her. The other  
older Master seemed less interested, perhaps he was tired?  
  
But Betty was trained to please tired old men too, with her furry body  
skills. Perhaps he'd like a nice sensuous dance, Betty swaying and wiggling  
her considerable skills for his artistic enjoyment. Sure, that was it.  
  
The younger Master confused Betty. He was obviously looking her body over,  
just as the other three Masters did, and Betty was built to enjoy men looking.  
But Tim seemed actually embarrassed he wanted to stroke her fur and feel her  
curves. Heck, that's what fur slaves of any gender are made for!  
  
Mistress Abby was the only one seemingly calm about Betty's fur nudity.  
besides her creator Mistress Mel of course. Mel like to test her creations,  
and if you think a woman can't test a female slave, you really need to get  
out more.  
  

  In fact it was Abby, the Goth forensic tech, who told Betty to come over  
if it was OK with Mel. Mistress gave her permission and Betty closed her  
front paws like a fist to crawl on them to Mistress Abby.  
  
Abby was about to object to this show of obsequious submission but stopped  
herself. Mel hadn't ordered Betty to crawl, so maybe the beast had decided on  
her own? Abby wanted to know how much the slaves thought and how much they  
blindly obeyed.  
  
Because if any human could command any slave, and even the foxgirl was  
stronger than a human woman, they had a serious weapon problem. Any one of  
Mel's beasts would be a mindless killer on command! Unless they had the  
mind to realise killing was wrong, and the will to refuse a direct order.  
  
If the slaves were just mindless organic machines, they'd feel no fear,  
no pity, no remorse! Abby shivered because Mel had said the R3G2 Guards did  
that, and they were too dumb to know they were hungry or even feel pain!  
How the heck could humans protect themselves, fight such ... things?!  
  

  \*  
  
Betty Foxgirl crawled to obey quickly but not startle the Mistress  
unfamiliar with commanding fur slaves. Betty wanted very much to kiss all  
the Masters' feet and lick their ankles like a dog pet, because she'd been  
told Masters like that and she was bent enough to need to please.  
  
Mistresses liked Kiss and Lick too, and Betty helplessly brushed her snout  
on Mistress Mel's shoes as she crawled by. But Mistress told her no, not yet.  
Go to the New Mistress to obey Her command. Mixes were bent to think of their  
duties in title capital letters, like a trick for a dog.  
  
Betty reached Mistress Abby. The woman put Her hand down, and Betty knew  
it was the command to Heel and present herself for Pet. As Betty rounded the  
corner of the conference table she skillfully slipped her back end around  
first like a fast race car skids itself around a curve.  
  
Betty ended up with her back to the wall and her snout to the table. All  
she saw was the five pairs of legs of the Masters and Mistress Mel, and the  
crossed pair of Mistress Abby. Betty brushed her cold vulpy nose on the hand  
still casually reaching for her.  
  

  Abby liked the fox, her obedience, her willingness to serve. The human pet-  
ted the fox and both females enjoyed it. Abby felt a desire to buy a vixen  
companion for herself.  
  
Gibbs and Ducky were probably too used to solitude to actually enjoy a pet.  
Gibbs had been married four times, and one of his exes had married and divor-  
ced the head of the FBI. Gibbs might let a dumb dog pet curl up near him as  
he worked on yet another wooden boat in his basement.  
  
But Gibbs wouldn't bother being held responsible for the animal. At the  
first ring of the phone, he'd be off demanding his team meet him at a crime  
scene. Abby was used to working with machines and computers. They never  
complained about conditions, just took as much time as it took to do their  
work. You can't rush science.  
  
And Ducky still lived with his elderly mother. OK it was his house, but  
he had the responsibility. No room for a pet. Ducky seemed more comfy with  
dead people than living ones.  
  
Tony was far too busy dreaming about women and trying to trick them into  
bed to bother with a pet. Tim was too busy with tech to bother feeding  
organics. Abby had to remind the man to eat lunch at work. Talk about being  
focused!  
  

  OK, Abby had her kinks too. The big tattoo of a cross on her back was curvy  
and she liked teasing men with where else she wore tattoos. Not her face, hint.  
So none of the NCIS team could really take the time an animal pet would  
require.  
  
\*  
  
But that's exactly Biological Synthetics Kennel's point. No time for  
a pet? Buy a fur slave instead! These things walk around, know about keeping  
themselves clean, feed themselves! And they're domestic servants, they'll do  
your home's walls and floors, keep 'em spotless, eat off 'em if you say so.  
  
They're too dumb to get bored if you leave for work. Heck, tell em once what  
they're allowed to clean in your home, maybe twice about how you want the  
furniture arranged, they'll move it, vacuum and dust, move it back! They  
know about glass and they're stronger than humans, very careful with your  
priceless antiques or irreplaceable plates.  
  
OK, the paws mean they don't have long fingers, and the dewclaw isn't quite  
a thumb, but they use their bare pawpads to hold even wet glass. Of course  
they wash themselves with soap and water, so no wet animal smell. If you  
give them a pet bed, they'll curl up and cover their parts with their tails.  
  

  Unless you order them to show themselves of course. After all, they're  
pleasure toys too. They brush their many carnivore teeth, even the carnas-  
sials, and they're fun in bed. They're big enough to enjoy, small enough  
to submit. Please try one, like me.  
  
I'll sleep against the door to protect you. If someone does attack, I'll  
pounce in front of you, in the way. I'll always be there for you, never get  
mad or bored, and I'll die to protect you. You know you want a fox like me.  
  
OK, Mistress Mel made me this way, to say all the ways fur slaves can give  
Humans pleasure, so you'll buy one or more and pay the Kennels. Please don't  
hurt me for speaking.  
  
After Abby asked Betty what the vixen could do for humans, Gibbs got back  
to his question. Betty had asked him what word, because she didn't know what  
a week was. A group of seven days. Oh, yes Master, I've been here in Kennel.  
  
Even when the vixen went outside, it was a covered walkway and small court-  
yard surrounded by buildings where they trained fur slaves as domestic ser-  
vants. Betty was quite sure she'd only seen the Vet in his office downstairs.  
  

  Since Betty's buyer was dead, the Kennel staff took turns with Betty. No  
sense letting her skills weaken, she was an expensive product. But there were  
many rooms in the compound for, er, personal training.  
  
Tony perked up noticeably at that revelation. Different buildings meant fur  
slaves walked around, and although they were led on leashes, Betty had walked  
to fetch water. Betty offered herself to the men first, and seemed slightly  
afraid she'd insulted Abby.  
  
Mel smiled at her product's willingness. She was glad the beast had recov-  
ered from her depression at finding her buyer was killed. Mel had been quite  
thrilled to learn the thing \*had\* feelings, since it meant the electric shocks  
had formed enough mind in the vixen.  
  
Ducky seemed to have a professional interest as a medical doctor in what an  
R4 could do for humans. Perhaps he wasn't so old he'd forgotten how to hug and  
caress a female. And Betty was furry, fun to explore, wanting a man's touch.  
  
Even Tim seemed curious. He was strangely apologetic about it though, as if  
he thought he would be punished for wanting to rub Betty. Well, Tim, of course  
there are other species, and would you like to try some other carnivore, or  
maybe a rodent?  
  

  \*  
  
Gibbs didn't have enough hands to head-slap everyone else, and he was  
thinking about some fur action himself. Why were they so intent on distracting  
the investigative team? He knew he should steer the team back to the murder,  
but conceded they could get valuable information about who could have used a  
fox as a murder weapon.  
  
How to get forensics, though? The beasts washed themselves, so they'd have  
to find a party room where Danielle had been. Of course Gibbs showed Mel a pic  
of their vic, and she offered to 'run it through' their guest list.  
  
Betty knew what a computer looked like, at least the Kennel's terminals.  
There were several keyboard-displays in the conference room. Tim was the first  
to get up, but he seemed to have trouble finding the mouse pointing device.  
  
Mel told him they used Hot!Tech machines, and there was no mouse, because  
it was a child's toy. Tim bristled. Mel said there was no need for a mouse,  
there was no GUI. Just type words, like you speak to a mix. Simple words, one  
word for each thing, one meaning for each word.  
  

  Gibbs liked that. Make the computer take typing, not make people learn how  
a big company wanted people to use the thing. A GUI restricts what you can do  
to what someone else made an icon for. Why should I depend on that?  
  
But what words to use? Well, the intent was to search, so we need to know  
where. All the guest information was in files in a folder named, simply, Guest.  
Search all files in Guest for the name Danielle Roberts.  
  
Mel went to a keyboard, inserted a USB drive (Tim explained) which identi-  
fied her work area, and typed a login and password. Security would know it  
was someone with Mel's disk, her DNA and ID info. It would be quite difficult  
to trick it, even putting her hand on the tester, because it checked angle  
of force and pulse.  
  
Mel merely typed !EX /App16/TS /Usr/All/Guest/\*.\* "Daniel" & "Robert"  
and the search started. It was so much easier than having to search a display  
for a little picture, point to it, and WAIT WAIT WAIT for a Windows machine  
to get its act together before showing a bunch of white boxes to type.  
  

  The Text Search took several seconds, but the screen showed an increasing  
number. No bar, no pictures, just two digits. That's all anyone needs anyway  
to know the machine's working.  
  
Mel wasn't sure of the spelling, so she made the machine look. No guessing,  
just if the Guest was Daniel Robert, it was OK to show the match along with  
Daniel Robertson and ...  
  
OK here it is, number on the left and name. Just a list, no damn pictures to  
slow it down. Tim was quite impressed with the speed. He was used to waiting,  
waiting, waiting for an Automated Fingerprint Identification System match or  
just a company's personnel files.  
  
Five matches including Robert Daniels and Roberta Danielssohn in about two  
seconds. One thousand fifty-four guests this year to search. Just push the  
'four' key for Danielle Roberts. She'd been here a month ago, borrowed a wolf  
boy and led him to Building 3 Room 107. First floor.  
  
Well, a wolf wasn't a fox, the DNA was different. But the forensics team  
checked out the room anyway. Lots of wicked stuff for tying a fur slave to  
a wall, to a support column, to the floor, on the bed ...  
  

  OK, Tony was practically drooling, and Abby really liked what she saw. She  
wanted to bring her boyfriend, because he was kinky enough to enjoy the ...  
nevermind, I'm trying to keep this PG13, or at least TV-MA.

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/rn9EMAvn
Part of the series FanFiction
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