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The Volunteer

A while ago, on a Friday

Kyroo was bored. He was often bored these days. Generally fun loving and with a talent for making people laugh, he had gone through high school without much of the angst and uncertainty that so many adolescents do. That was because he had been surrounded by good friends. The tall arctic fox had graduated from high school in the spring. After the Grad party most of the gang had gone off for the summer, to play and celebrate before knuckling down for four to eight years of university. But Kyroo had not decided what to do with his future yet, and his folks could not afford to send him to Europe, where most of his more affluent friends had gone, or even Florida, where the rest were spending the summer.

So Kyroo decided to take the money he had saved from his various summer jobs and spend the summer travelling around the country, looking up old friends and dropping in on distant relatives. Leaving the money that his folks had set aside for his education behind meant that he would have to travel on the cheap, and probably take a few odd jobs along the way, but it would be there and safe when he eventually returned home and figured out what he wanted to do with his life. He set out with $400 in his chequing account, his bank card, the iPod Nano that his dad had given him as a graduation present, a notebook and a few brand new pencils, because he preferred to make entries in his journal in pencil. It made him feel more like some of the early 20th century writers he admired.

He soon found out one of the great truths in life: people who used to welcome you into their homes when they knew you had a place to go to at the end of the day, or the next, did not necessarily feel the same way about you when you showed up for an indeterminate stay. The underlying tension from people who did not want to be responsible for you, but felt that they had to if you staying with them, and the mostly unspoken hints that all meant "when are you moving on?" robbed him of the his fun loving attitude. Kyroo moved on often, and he soon ran out of folk to drop in on, and money.

He did have one option left, a cousin named Nathan, who was a year older than him that had moved to Ottawa, the capital city of Canada, to learn French at the bilingual university there before going to France for advanced studies in psychology. He had heard that Nathan had landed a scholarship and had found a good job waiting tables in one of the more popular pubs near the campus. Now going into his second year, his cousin had moved out of the residence and into a small apartment in a neighbourhood called "Sandy Hill". Kyroo used the last of cash to send him an email from an internet cafe, and then nursed a coffee until the reply came back. "Sure, drop in anytime" it said.

Getting across the border had not been difficult. When the Canadian customs guy had asked how much money Kyroo had he had told a small lie and said that he had a couple of thousand dollars on his bank card. He was sure that his dad would transfer that much from his education fund in an emergency, but he did not think that he would need it. Nathan had said that there were lots of short-term cash jobs for students in the summer. There were also a lot of arctic foxes in Canada and Kyroo thought that he would fit right in. He would have to take cash jobs, because he did not have a Canadian Social Insurance Number, or SIN as they called it, and as a temporary visitor without a visa, he was not permitted to work ... legally anyway.

That was how he came to find himself in Ottawa. How he came to be bored was another story.

Nathan had been as good as his word and welcomed his white-furred cousin to the Capital with open arms and a spare key to the apartment. He had a fold-out futon in the living room that Kyroo could crash on and a well-stocked kitchenette so his cousin would not starve, but he also had a full-time job now that it was summer, two of them in fact. They kept Nathan out from early morning to late in the evening most nights, and when he was home he just wanted to sleep. Kyroo entertained him some times with jokes and funny stories about his travels so far but he could see the exhaustion in his cousin's eyes so he made excuses before Nathan passed out in the living room and let him get himself off to bed.

The neighbourhood was no better. It was mostly student apartments, half of which were empty this time of year. The ones that were not empty were occupied by students in the same situation as his cousin, those working as much as they could during the summer semester in order to be able to afford the time to study the rest of the year. Kyroo had to go downtown to find any lively folk at all.

And then he learned another one of life's great truths: you can have a good time with friends when you only have a couple of bucks in your pocket but not with strangers. Nobody wanted to know you when you were the only one not drinking in the pub because you could not afford it, and the clubs where you could get away with it all had steep cover charges. It did not matter how funny or outgoing you were, here in Canada you needed a full or half-full drink in your paw as proof of solvency before you could get a chance to demonstrate that you were a good guy. Kyroo needed some cash if he wanted to do anything more than watch TV in Nathan's flat.

He asked his cousin one night how he might go about getting some.

"There are a few places you could try." Nathan advised him. "There is an office at the university where they sign up people as subjects for lab experiments, but you need a student card to get in. I'd lend you mine but ..." Kyroo understood, if he got caught Nathan would be suspended if not expulsed for helping a foreigner work illegally. "There is a day-job place by the mission. They mostly hire homeless folk to help move stuff or take inventory in those temporary stores that pop up around the holidays. They don't pay much, and you're likely to get thrown up on by your co-workers, but they pay up right away at the end of the day and they never ask any questions."

Kyroo thought about it. Hanging around with a bunch of bums that would probably reek of alcohol and cigarettes did not sound appalling. "Anything else?"

Nathan scratched his head in thought. "Well, there is this guy from the government that comes around looking for test subjects. A rat called Doctor Gordon. You have to sign a non-disclosure form, and as far as I know no one who has ever worked for him has talked about what exactly it is they do to you, but the word is that they pay good, four or five hundred dollars a day, and they don't care who you are or what your legal status is as long as you meet their criteria."

"And what exactly are their criteria?"

"No one knows. But if you hang outside the student offices building on a Monday morning you may be able to intercept him on his way in. Look for a middle-aged rat in a lab coat.

"He's not some kind of perv is he?" Kyroo's tailhole clenched at the thought of ending up in some old queen's apartment.

"Naw. He's legit. He's got some kind of government ID and such. The university wouldn't let him on the campus otherwise."

"Okay." Kyroo decided. "I'll give it a try on Monday.

* * * * * * * *

Monday

_ _

As with most government departments, Canada's secret agency, the Foreign Operations eXecutive, or F.O.X. for short, ran on coffee and staff meetings. Tancred Williams, the current Chief of Staff, had just finished his third cup of one for the day, and was about to put and end to the fist of the other.

"Any other points before we adjourn?" He asked.

Rederick, "Rusty" Nayles, the huge doberman who trained the agents in all form of combat, armed as well as unarmed, raised a paw and Williams nodded at him. "We have to cancel the unarmed combat scenarios for tomorrow. The JTF2 volunteers got called out on a mission."

Williams frowned. Using the elite Canadian Forces commandos was good training for both the soldiers and his agents in training, but it was hard to schedule around them. Time and money were both tight this year, and hiring martial arts experts on short notice would break the budget. "Can we push that back to later in the course and reschedule something else in its place."

He was met by blank stares and shrugs from around the table, except when he came to Doctor Gordon, the staff psychologist. The thin rat removed his glasses and began cleaning them as he spoke. "We could move the seduction exam up. We haven't spent against that budget yet."

"Do you have subjects lined up already?"

"Mostly. I just need one more. Someone suitable for Beausoleil."

Williams thought of the tall, slim, elegant vixen, but in a detached manner. His tastes ran to cute and submissive males. Outdoorsy types that did not mind the hike to his chalet in the Gatineau Hills or a little BDSM session before sharing a bottle of wine and watching the sun set. Beausoleil had the looks that could make males crawl through broken glass to paw off in her shadow, but Silver, his senior agent, thought that she lacked the confidence to be an agent. Since sending an unsuitable person to the field was dangerous for them, anyone working with them, and a threat to national security as a whole they had to make sure there was no doubt whatsoever before making someone a junior agent. These scenario exams would help decide her fate.

"Choose wisely." He advised Gordon.

* * * * * * * *

Doctor Gordon was desperate. It took special attributes to resist an agent trained in the ways of seduction and elicitation and reverse the tables on them. He had interviewed a number of candidates to partner against the 6'3" vixen, formerly an Ontario Provincial Police Guns and Gangs squad member, but no one was suitable. The agents had learned to profile a subject quickly and choose the appropriate approach, so he needed to find someone that was hard to read, and harder to crack. Some older and experienced, like Silver, would have been perfect, but he was off on a mission in Europe and besides, it would be unfair to unleash him on the unsuspecting vixen. Still, it would be interesting, from a clinical point of view. Gordon suspected that Beausoleil had steel inside her ... somewhere, and that Silver had a soft core that was silently crying out for someone, someone like her perhaps.

He decided to try the university student employment office first. There were usually a few juvenile Don Juan's hanging out there, trying to seduce the female staff into changing their schedules or adjusting their assignments. Someone younger and less aggressive may be a challenge for Beausoleil, who was used to dealing with big hairy biker gang members. He parked by the entrance and hurried toward the building. It was windy, cloudy and distant thunder heralded rain soon.

He noticed a young arctic fox who was leaning against the building near the entrance. The fox was gazing at the clouds that were rushing by and smiling, a smile that deepened with each peel of thunder and each crack of lightning. The fox straightened up as Gordon got out of his car. The lad's body language screamed desperation, and obviously he had been waiting for someone like Gordon to come along. The rat wondered idly whether he was about to be hit up for spare change, and offer of sex for money or a demand for all his cash. He pretended that he did not see the fox as he rushed toward the front door, just t see what the kid would do.

"Doctor Gordon?" The fox called before Gordon could disappear inside the building.

Interesting, he knows my name, Gordon noted. I wonder what else he knows about me? He stopped and faced the fox but did not speak.

"I hear that you sometimes hire students to be test subjects." Kyroos shifted from one leg to another as he waited for a response.

Good, he deduces that I am indeed the person he seeks despite my lack of confirmation, Gordon told himself, so he can think on his feet. He noted the shuffling, and other body language that revealed more about Kyroo's character than the fox would have thought possible. He's uncomfortable but not shy. He is outgoing, but not forceful, not a braggart or a bully. He's tall and he looks to be in good shape, but he's not intimidating. Overall, Gordon determined that the fox had a warm, honest and respectful personality, but he also sensed that the fox was a bit of a loner. I was a lot to deduce from a few seconds of observation but that was Doctor Gordon's field of expertise. A student with the subject in an artificial setting would be hard pressed to discern half as much. "Do you know what kind of subject I'm looking for?" He said out loud.

"No I don't. But I'm smart and I can follow instructions and I'm not afraid of hard work or adverse conditions, or ... pain, if you're running one of those negative reinforcement things." The foxes eyes never broke contact with Gordon's, even when he concluded with "I should tell you, I'm not really allowed to work in this country, but I need the money and I hear that you are the real deal, and you look like you are in kind of a hurry, so if you need someone to wire up to your latest brain wave sucker, I'm your cranium." He finished with a dazzling smile that was infectious.

Gordon surveyed the lad closely once more. He was tall, almost as tall as Beausoleil, that was good. He was not bad looking, average build, with blue eyes and healthy white fur. He looked to be in shape. After working with agents for so many years Gordon could also tell that the fox practiced martial arts regularly from his stance and the calluses on his paws, and that was good too; resisting a professional seduction could be exhausting. Beausoleil will be expecting a pro, someone expert at putting up a false front, he mused_, sending in someone who is exactly as he seems to be could pose a significant challenge, perhaps even an unfair challenge. _ Gordon shrugged and made up his mind; espionage work was never meant to be fair.

"It's an experiment for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Psychology Division." He lied. "We train interviewers and interrogators to use elicitation techniques to, ah, seduce information out of their subjects, rather than resorting to, let's say, more aggressive methods. You'll be up against one of our female interviewers. We'll give you some information to protect and all you have to do is hold off telling her what it is as long as you can. I'll pay you two hundred dollars to show up and another hundred dollars for every thirty minutes you manage to hold out against her. Think you can handle that?"

Kyroo imagined the typical female state trooper from back home. They were generally big, wide, thick canines with more muscles than brains and all the allure of a tractor. He could not conceive that the ones who worked for the famous Canadian national police force would be much different.

"Piece of cake." The fox replied.

Doctor Gordon fished a card out of his pocket and passed it to the fox. "Be at that address tomorrow at one pm. I'll supply the cake."

* * * * * * * *

Meanwhile, back at the Farm

_ _

"O'Neil!" Rusty's roar shook the training building located on the grounds of Ottawa's Central Experimental Farm. "Where are you, you lazy son of a birch?"

The big doberman lumbered down the hallway, sticking his head in the various classrooms and labs in search of the fox who was class senior for the week. The schedule said that the agents-in-training were supposed to be in room six working on secret message techniques but there was no sign of them. Remembering how improvised invisible ink was made, Rusty took a left and entered the male's washroom. There he found two of the class members, Hu and Hanlan, at the urinal, peeing into glass bottles. The legs and dropped trousers of the third male class member indicated that he was doing likewise inside one of the stalls.

"O'Neil!" Rusty roared again. The students at the urinal both jumped and dropped their bottles. Urine sprayed everywhere.

"What do you want?" Randy O' Neil replied from inside the stall. He was an arrogant little prick, and Rusty did not like him. He was thinking of asking Silver to face the kid in the unarmed simulation exercise. Serve the kid right if Silver left him without the use of an appendage or two. But for now the young fox was class senior and according to protocol Rusty was obliged to pass all information for the students through him.

"Change of schedule tomorrow." Rusty barked. "Combat scenarios are cancelled. You're doing seduction and elicitation instead. Got that?"

"Sure, combat out, seduction in."

"Make sure you pass it on to the rest of the students."

"You got that guys?" O'Neil called out to the two male foxes cleaning the pee off their trousers.

"Yep" "Okay" they replied.

Rusty spun on his heel and strode out the door. "Don't forget the girls." He called over his shoulder just before the door slammed shut

"You get that Baby Doll?"

"Got it." The voice of Delores "Baby Doll" Johnson came from the same stall as O'Neil, where she was sitting astride Randy, collecting fluids of another type. "You going to tell Vikki?"

"Sure, I'll tell Beausoleil." He grunted as she began moving on his cock again. "No problem."

* * * * * * * *

Tuesday

_ _

Vikki Beausoleil checked the schedule as soon as she woke up and again after she showered. She was paranoid about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She wanted to be a secret agent so badly, and if she screwed up a test because she read the schedule wrong and didn't prepare for it she would never forgive herself. After a quick breakfast of fruit she had liberated from the chow hall she checked it again.

Tuesday Morning, Prep for afternoon exams, it read. Tuesday Afternoon, Unarmed Combat Simulation. The safety word for the day is "Asperagus".

This was one Vikki had been looking forward to. The Academy taught all sorts of techniques for fighting, with and without weapons. One of the classes dealt strictly with the use of everyday items to disable or kill your opponent. The scenario that afternoon would test how well they could do that against an opponent with equal or better skills. Vikki had heard that the Academy sometimes used real killers, punks pulled from the cells in Kingston Federal Penitentiary, in these simulations, desperate lifers who had been told they could go free if they could win the fight. It was a lie, of course, but it lent some reality to the contest, more so than fighting with the Special Forces operators or mixed martial arts practitioners did. Vikki hoped that she got a prisoner. Preferably a big hairy enforcer from one of the criminal bike gangs. She'd feed him his own tail before sending him back to the pen.

She realized that her paws were sweating and that she was breathing hard in anticipation. She forced herself to relax. The extra adrenaline might give one a temporary advantage but she wanted to emulate the senior agent, Silver, who battled the giant doberman combat instructor to a standstill in the demonstration fights with a cool detachment that was frankly eerie. She wondered whether the silver-toned fox had any special preparation technique and if he would ever pass it on to the students?

But if he did have some sort of yoga-like relaxation method, or use some mild drugs to attain his state of detachment it was still his secret, and she had to prepare herself now for the upcoming contest. Donning her Academy-issue track suit and lacing up her running shoes she headed out to the gym to see who was available for a sparring session. She was so eager to go that she forgot to check the mirrored ball in the ceiling at the hallway intersection and ran right smack into Delores Johnson, who was making her sleepy-eyed way to the showers.

"Whoa, Honey. What's the rush?" Delores asked as they picked themselves off the carpet.

"I wanted to start getting ready for the scenario this afternoon." Vikki explained as she moved around the shorter but much bustier vixen and headed for the exit. "Review the theory, practice my moves and find someone suitable to warming up with."

Delores shook her head. "You take this all too seriously, girl. Just get out there and do what comes naturally."

"Yeah, right. You can say that." Vikki replied as she went through the door. She had meant it to be sarcastic and expected Delores to stick her tongue out or pull some similar expression, but the buxom vixen just smiled confidently. Unfortunately for Vikki she was looking the other way, and did not catch it. If she had seen it she might have stopped and asked Delores why she thought that she did not need to prepare for an unarmed combat exam because, as everyone knew, the only thing "Baby Doll" Johnson was good at was seducing others. She would in fact have failed long ago if she had not enticed several of the male and even a few female instructors into raising her marks. Then she might have found out about the schedule change ... or maybe not; some things are just fated to happen.

Vikki thought about Delores' singular talent as she jogged to the gym. The girl could get anyone to sleep with her, but that was not all. She could get the secrets out of a clam wrapped in chains on the bottom of the ocean, provided it had a libido. When the seduction and elicitation scenarios came around Vikki wanted Delores to go first, so she could watch her on the monitor and imitate her techniques.

Vikki was no virgin, but neither did she sleep around. She had been celibate for almost a year before coming to F.O.X. and had yet to sleep with anyone at the Academy, despite numerous invitations, mostly from Randy but from some of the instructors and staff too. But she refused all offers. She was determined to pass on her own merit, and did not want any rumours floating about that she had yiffed her way in afterwards. Still, there were times ... especially when Silver was lecturing ...

She jogged faster to drive those thoughts from her head. She would hit the gym for an hour, and then take a long, cold shower to bring her blood pressure back down before hitting the books on improvised weapons one last time. Then, after a light lunch, she would dress and go to the room assigned for her scenario.

For the first time on what had been a stressful and hectic course Vikki felt confident.

* * * * * * * *

Kyroo arrived at the designated building in the middle of Ottawa's Central Experimental Farm fifteen minutes early. He had to walk all the way across downtown to the Dow's Lake area because he did not have enough money for cab fare, or even the bus. He hesitated to knock on the door of the heritage building that turned out to be his destination. He wondered, why would the RCMP do their interview and interrogation training at Agriculture Canada's downtown farm? He had heard that they were moving from their old east-side headquarters to a new campus in the south end of town because of space problems. That move was still a couple of years off though, so he guessed that they used whatever facilities they could in the meantime.

Before he could work up the courage to knock the door opened. Doctor Gordon was standing in the doorway, beckoning him to enter.

"How are feeling today my boy? Well rested?" The rat asked solicitously. He was pleased to see that the Arctic fox had dressed neatly, in slacks, loafers and a shirt with a light suit jacket on top. Sort of business casual, or piano lounge chic, he supposed.

Kyroo shrugged. "I'm doing okay, I guess." He felt like he was at a job interview. "Do I look okay? I mean ... I've never done something like this before."

"You're fine, just fine. Gordon assured him. "Now, the uh, interview starts at one-thirty, but first we have to fill out a little paperwork for our files." Seeing the fox balk he continued hurriedly. "Don't worry, it's just for insurance purposes and all stays in-house. Immigration and your IRS will never know you were here."

Kyroo was suspicious. "Insurance? For having someone try to talk me out of some information? What kind of accident could I have during that?"

Gordon thought about the fellow they had hired to resist Agent Scarlet when she was in training, and how the poor guy had a stroke from the state of unfulfilled excitement she had put him in. "Nothing really, it's just routine." He showed the fox to a desk with the papers waiting on it and shoved a pen in his paw. He watched over his shoulder as Kyroo filled them out. "Last name Echoes? Very rare." He commented. "And Kyroo, ever play Kingdom Hearts? No? Didn't think so."

Kyroo filled in the spaces dealing with age, gender, education, skills and such with no problem, but he stopped when he came to the question "What is something that turns you on that no-one knows about?" He was not sure that he wanted to reveal such personal information about himself. Finally though, the allure of fast tax-free money won out and he wrote: "rain, clouds, thunder and lightning." There were a couple of other things that he could have written, like what _really_turned him on, but he didn't. Partially because he was a teeny bit ashamed of some of them, and partially because he did not want to give them something they could use to make him talk too soon.

When Kyroo had signed and dated the last page the rat scooped them up and passed them to a lemur in a white coat. He had already read the information he wanted to know.

"Joel here is our technician. Now, let me tell you how this will work. The information that you want to protect is that rain, cloud, thunder and lightning turn you on, got that?" Kyroo repeated the information. "Good. As I said, you earn two hundred dollars just by going in there. The longer you hold off telling her that information the more you earn. There are no rules to what she or you can do or say or promise. You can even try to turn the tables on her and get her talking about herself if you can. Also, try to keep in mind that all she wants is to get the information out of you and it will be easier to resist the temptation to speak. If you want to give her false information that's up to you, but if she believes you your time ends. You don't get paid more for fooling her. Ready to go?"

"Yep. I'm good to go."

Actually, Kyroo felt very nervous, but he did his best not to let it show. He did not fool Gordon, of course, and the rat thought that Beausoleil would pick up on too, but that would just confuse her more. He escorted the young fox to a door that let into a room about twenty feet a side. There was an old blue leather couch against the far wall, and a table with two wooden chairs in the middle. Kyroo guessed that that was where the interrogation would take place so he went in and sat in one of the chairs. Doctor Gordon closed the door and went to sit beside the lemur.

"Ten bucks says he spills his guts within fifteen minutes." Joel said as he opened a laptop and checked the feeds from the hidden cameras and microphones in the room.

"Twenty says he'll make it past the first half hour." Gordon countered.

"You're on."

Inside the room Kyroo grew restless. He had forgotten to wear a watch and he had no idea how long he had to wait before whatever bulldog they were going to sic on him showed up and there was no clock in the room. There was not much of anything actually, just some kind of schedule taped to the wall over the couch, the furniture and a lamp mounted high on the ceiling, far out of reach.

To give himself something to do he emptied out his pockets and arranged the contents on the table in front of him. There was his bank card, so he could deposit the cash at the bank on the way back to Nathan's place, one of his pencils, freshly sharpened in case there was no pen at the ATM to sign the cheque with, his iPod Nano and its ear buds, and one of those two dollar Canadian coins they called a 'toonie'. He arranged them by size, largest on the left, and stared at them for a few moments before collecting them up and arranging them in groups by shape. Then he did it by size again, but from the right this time.

He carried on rearranging his scant possessions until the interrogator arrived.

* * * * * * * *

Vikki showed up fifteen minutes early for her test, but she waited outside the building where the scenarios were run until one twenty-nine.

She was wearing street clothes for the scenario as instructed because fights to the death rarely occurred when an agent was in gym gear. She had chosen a loose top and skirt that would not constrict her movements, ones that would tear away instead of being used to get a paw hold. Underneath she wore an old black lace bra and matching panties. A sports bra might have kept the girls in better but again, if her opponent got his digits under the straps he could use it to pull her into a head butt, or twist it to strangle her. The old black bra would give long before either could happen. The same for the panties, which were so worn they were almost transparent. Not very modest perhaps, but maybe the sight would distract her opponent, if only for an instant. There was no such thing as an unfair tactic in this kind of battle. If the scum dared to take advantage after ripping her clothes off she would leave him with a broken digit for every time he dared to touch her tits.

She rehearsed the rules of engagement in her head as she paced up and down in front of the building.

It was a no-holds-barred fight. Her opponent might attack her as soon as she entered the room, or she could come in swinging and hope for a quick take out. Normally though, it was better to size up one's opponent before wading in, to gauge their strengths and spot their weaknesses. Anything in the room, including the furniture, could be used as a weapon or an obstacle. The Academy staff usually placed a few innocuous looking objects in the room that a clever agent could take advantage of. Of course, she would have to get to them first.

Her student pass unlocked the outside door. Inside the foyer she saw Joel the lemur doing something on a laptop computer in the corner. Doctor Gordon was rising from his chair. "Are you ready for the simulation?" He asked.

She nodded yes, too psyched up and focused to speak. She wasn't surprised to see the Academy psychologist there. A fight like this put one under a considerable mental strain. She did wonder were Rusty was though. Maybe he is still debriefing whoever went though this morning, she supposed.

Gordon studied her as she waited for word to start the scenario. "Do you want to go over the rules one more time?"

She shook her head no.

"Alright then, go ahead." He stepped back. "And good luck."

The electric dead bolt on the inner door slid open. She flexed her digits several times before opening it, as she had seen Silver do before a bout. Then she stepped inside.

The door swung shut behind her, and the lock re-engaged with an ominous "click".

Gordon took his seat beside Joel. He stared at the wall deep in thought for a moment before speaking. "What do you think about the way she is dressed? A little slutty for her, eh?"

"She should dress like that more often." Joel commented as he adjusted the focus on the ceiling camera. Zooming in, he could see right down her cleavage. "She needs to loosen up a bit. Maybe we could get Scarlet to come out of retirement and give her a few tips?"

"Good God No! The world is not ready for another one like her!"

* * * * * * * *

Vikki stopped just inside the room. He opponent was sitting at the table with his back to her, examining the objects Rusty must have left there for them to use as improvised weapons. He was pretending not to have noticed her. He's a cool one, she thought. She saw a bank card, a freshly sharpened pencil, a toonie, and an iPod Nano with ear buds. All very useful, in the right paws, especially the pencil, which could be used six different ways to incapacitate or kill. The techniques she could apply to the other items varied depending on the gauge of the wire in the ear buds, whether the toonie was new or tarnished, and how flexible the bank card was; some snapped easily but the rough edge could be used like a serrated blade. But the white fox was keeping them within arms reach, shuffling them and arranging them repeatedly. Damn, she thought, how am I going to get my paws on them before he uses them on me?

She stepped around from behind him to get a good look at what she was up against, and froze in confusion. He looked like a kid, barely twenty, if that. Don't get complacent, she reminded herself. Serial killers come in all sizes and ages these days. Their sometimes classmate, Marcel, also looked like a teenager, but rumour had it that he had already been on one wet mission. Using the techniques she had been taught she examined key features.

He was tall, not quite as tall as her but above average all the same. He was built proportionately to his height, and had good muscle definition. He had clear blue eyes and his white fur was full and shinny, not like some street addict's. Tell-tale calluses and rub marks on his paws indicated that he practiced martial arts and used handled weapons like swords, knives, staffs or spears regularly. Cordite tattooing on the soft skin at the base of the thumb showed some familiarity with firearms too. His kept the fur on his head long, unlike the mixed-martial arts fighters but not much different from the relaxed grooming regulations of the commandos. Yet he did not have the soldierly bearing that the commandos never could disguise. All in all, Vikki was baffled.

She recalled another of Rusty's lessons: "Real fights are not like UFC matches where you know the reputation of your opponent and can review the videos of their previous bouts. Your adversary will be an unknown quantity, so learn as much as you can about them before engaging." He had then recounted a story about a famous duel in feudal Japan where the two samurai had spent a day and a night adopting various stances to see how the other would respond, without either ever attacking. But she was on the clock, and had to defeat her opponent by a certain time or suffer a failure. The longer the kid sat there playing with the improvised weapons the less time she had. But rusty had also said: "If you have to, get them talking. See if they will reveal anything that can help you determine which approach to take." In short, use the elicitation techniques they had learned to determine what kind of fighter they were and adjust your attack accordingly.

Hooking the other chair with one foot, she pulled it back far enough away from the table not to be in range if he attacked with any of the items there and sat down facing him. She deliberately placed her body in an open, welcoming pose that was supposed to encourage conversation, one with her knees spread, her arms at her sides and her torso leaned forward. She sought eye contact, tilted her head slightly to the right to simulate interest and kept silent. Most creatures felt uncomfortable after a prolonged silence and would fill it by talking about whatever was on their mind at the moment.

Vikki settled in, waiting for him to speak first.

Kyroo had been so involved rearranging his stuff that he had not noticed the door behind him opening. When the interrogator appeared in front of him suddenly he froze, partially because he was startled by her sudden, silent appearance, but mostly because of the way she looked; she was stunning.

She was tall, a touch taller than him he guessed, with vibrant red fur and a thick, bushy tail. She was slim but not skinny. Her muscles were long and well defined, like a marathon runner's. Her eyes were emerald green, and steady. Her ruff was full and gave her an air of elegance. She reminded him of Sophia Loren in some of the old movies his folks liked to watch. She looked like a real lady, he thought, but she was not dressed that way. Her blouse was plain white and loose, loose enough to show a shear black lace bra and the curve of her ample breasts. Her skirt was light green, and it rode high on her full thighs. When she hooked the other chair with her foot and sat down in it he caught a momentary flash of black lace down there too. How did they know that black lace turned me on? Have they been talking to Nathan, or monitoring my internet usage?

She sat in the chair with her legs open and her arms back, as if inviting him in. Then she leaned forward and tilted her head as if he had said something interesting and she wanted to hear more, but he had not spoken, had he? He ached to fill the silence with a wry comment or bon mot that would break the ice and impress her with his wit at the same time, but he found that his tongue was still frozen.

He filled the time as the silence stretched out by recalling the research he had conducted over the weekend.

He had read up on the subject of elicitation on the internet at Nathan's. There was quite a lot of material about it, including its use in interrogation, interviewing and debriefing. It related to kinesthetic interviewing, personality profiling, and the like. Depending on what his body language told her she might choose from a number of different approaches, including seductive, persuasive, challenging, confrontational, conspiratoral, or the fake obtuse approach popularized by one Lieutenant Colombo.

He sat there is silence, wondering which approach she would take.

Damn, this guy is good, Vikki thought as the silence stretched on. He fakes being nervous but doesn't fall for the silent treatment. _ I wonder if he's on loan from the CIA or MI-6_? The only way to find out would be to get him talking. Swallowing her pride, and a bit of saliva, she broke the ice. "So, what should I call you?"

He did not answer right away, but after some consideration he decided there was no need to conceal his name from her. The rat already had it written down and he may have told her before she came in. This could be some kind of test to see if he would answer innocuous questions honestly. All the resistance to interrogation articles he had read over the weekend said that the less you lie the better. "Kyroo." He answered. Unconsciously, his paws toyed with his stuff on the table.

Vikki was sure that it was a fake name, but she did detect an American accent. So he was probably CIA. She reviewed everything she knew about their training. He was touching the items on the table as if he was trying to decide which to use on her first. Was he taunting her by keeping them just out of her reach? If he was, he was going to regret it.

"So, Kyroo, what brings you to this neck of the woods?"

She is trying to get me talking about myself, he realized. "Oh, just thought that I'd take in some of the stunning scenery up here in the great white north." He answered in general terms, and then decided to try flipping the conversation onto her. "Speaking of which, what brings a lovely creature such as yourself to this line of work?" He tried to give her his best grin and wag his eyebrows comically to show her that he was just being humorous, but he was still a little awestruck and it came of more lecherous than he had intended.

_Is he flirting with me? He's got balls, I'll give him that, but not for much longer. _ The clock was ticking down, and despite not learning as much as she would have liked from him, it was time for Vikki to make a move.

"Why, I came here for you." She purred as she leaned forward, surreptitiously balancing her weight on her legs and grabbing the edge of the chair down where he could not see. "I was told that we could have a bit of tussle, you know, before ...?" She tensed her muscles in preparation.

Ah! The seductive approach! Kyroo's heart lurched at the thought of the tall slim vixen wrapping herself around him and tickling the hairs in his ear to get him talking. She would never follow through with the unspoken promises, of course, but it would be fun pretending that she might, and she looked like she would be awfully comfortable to hold. He went to sweep up his belongings to stow them in his pockets before suggesting that they move to the couch where it was more comfortable.

Vikki saw him go for the goods on the table and knew that she could delay no longer. She shot up from the chair and swung it from underneath and between her legs. It connected with the table, sending the items on it flying to the four corners of the room. Then she leapt at him.

"Hey, what the he- ...." Kyroo jumped up and stepped back, startled. He thought that she must have leaned too far forward on her chair and crashed into the table, but for some reason she was flying through the air toward him. He raised his paws instinctively, grabbing her blouse with a judo hold. All he wanted to do was stop her from crashing into him, but he tripped over the chair behind him and ended up pulling her up and over. Before he managed to release her he heard a tearing sound. He had ripped her blouse. Bet she'll be pissed about that, he thought as he stood and turned, poised to go help her.

Vikki spun in mid air, pushed off the far wall with her feet and landed in a crouch facing her opponent. She pulled the tattered remains of her blouse off. She snarled, showing a fair number of teeth. He was coming for her with his paws outstretched. He had left his groin uncovered, so she went for it.

Kyroo was concerned. She had a pained expression on her face and was reaching out, as if she needed help straightening up. Maybe she had sprained something. That would probably put an early end to this interview, he supposed. So much for making another hundred dollars. He reached out his paws to help her up. When hers came up he deftly grabbed then and pulled.

His paw intercepted hers on the way to his groin. She tried with the other but he got a hold of that one two. Then he hauled her up, probably to flip her over and into the pile of splintered wood. Vikki beat him to it by dropping to the floor, planting her feet in his midriff and shoving hard. Their paws parted and he grasped for purchase, catching the edge of her skirt in his claws. Before he could use it to pull her into him she put her paws on the floor behind her and back flipped out of it. But the move impeded the momentum she had counted on driving him back onto the wrecked table. He was able to side step it, and now he was standing there in the middle of the room holding her skirt, leering at her.

Kyroo was staring at her, he couldn't help it. She was standing ten feet away from him in nothing but a black lace bra and panties and she was gorgeous. His lips wanted to smile appreciatively but he was embarrassed because he thought that her sudden disrobing had been his fault. He was a little confused too, and the conflicting emotions twisted his face. It was almost like she was fighting him with all the flailing paws and flipping about. Wasn't this supposed to be an interrogation? He was beginning to think that he had gotten caught up in some weird psychological experiment. Had Nathan set him up, he wondered, to get data for some paper he was writing? Then she spoke.

"Just wait until I get my paws on you, Yankee Doodle."

A huge grin spread across Kyroo's face. They had been monitoring his internet use! Nathan must have noted the fantasy hunt sites he visited in his browser history. One could play as a hunter or as prey, and Kyroo always chose to be the prey. Kyroo's favourite was a game where a buxom police detective hunted you though a maze. You had to avoid her paws and the projectiles from any weapon she used on you, and at the end of every completed stage she lost a piece of clothing. If you managed to evade her until she was naked you won and then, in the final scene .... well, it was pretty explicit, and a lot of fun. If you lost, the police detective tied you up and demanded a confession, while she, uh, preyed on your avatar. That could be fun too, especially if you had lost when she was down to just her underwear. Kyroo always chose a vixen as his hunter, and selected black lingerie for her in the options menu.

This scenario was exactly_like his fantasy. Now she would try to catch him, and when she did, she would straddle him and tickle him and demand to know the secret phrase. He forgot about the money. He forgot about whether or not it really was the RCMP. This was going to be _fun!

Vikki saw the grin and lost it. She didn't care about tactics or strategy or thinking three moves ahead anymore. She just wanted to break this jeering, baby-faced American in two, or maybe even three pieces. She launched herself at him.

"You're going to have to catch me first!" Kyroo hooted as he sidestepped her lunge. Then he began running.

He ran around the room with the vixen in hot pursuit, dropping his jacket so that she could not get a grip on it and kicking off his shoes to get a better purchase on the smooth floor. Sometimes he leapt over the broken table and back. Sometimes he paused in one of the corners as if trapped, only to push off the wall in a new direction. Sometimes he took a short cut across the couch. He tried to mix the moves up, so she could not predict his pattern. On the tenth circuit her bra strap got caught on the doorknob and it was left hanging there when she tore herself away. Kyroo did his corner thing more often after that, so he could see those bouncing orbs coming for him before he dodged away.

She came close to grabbing him on a couple of occasions because of that, but he managed to slip away each time. He did lose the shirt he had borrowed from Nathan's closet; that had been a close one. The space to manoeuvre was limited, however, and he knew that she would eventually catch him. He also knew exactly where he wanted to be when that time came. Sensing that the time was near, he edged closer to the couch.

Vikki had never known where the expression "seeing red' had come from before today, but she did now. Her circulatory system had altered, speeding up and squeezing the blood out of unnecessary organs to redirect it to those that needed extra strength. That apparently included the eyes, as the arteries in her pupils had swelled so much that it looked like she was viewing the world through a red mesh. Her anger had grown beyond rage, to a state where she could barely control herself. But the strength and speed that the state lent her required very little control, she was running on automatic, physically at least. It was her mental state that was in the red zone.

The fox seemed to be circling closer to the couch. It would not surprise her if he picked the whole damned thing up and threw it at her. She would foil that plan, but she needed a couple of things to do that.

As she continued to chase him about the room her eyes flashed about, searching for the items that had been on the table. She spotted the ones she wanted, and when she passed by on the next circuit she scooped them up when the fox wasn't looking. Two turns around the room later he was close to the couch, and she made her move.

Swinging the iPod by the ear bud cord she tossed it like a bolos into his legs. As calculated, the thin but strong wires broke his stride just as he went to leap over the couch and he came crashing down on the blue leather cushions, knocking the wind out of him. While he was stunned Vikki leapt on top of him, pinning his arms at his sides with her powerful legs. Sitting on his stomach, she produced the pencil, checked to see that the pointy graphite tip and the eraser were still intact, and drove it up toward the soft spot under his jaw, where it would have a direct route into the base of his brain, killing him instantly.

Some vestige of the old Vikki in the back of her head cried out, and she managed to halt the pencil just as the tip dimpled the skin under his jaw. All her being demanded that she drive the point of the pencil into his brain, but her training prevailed. She would give him the chance to use the safety word, the word that meant he had given up, and that she had won.

"Say it." She hissed. "Say it!"

Kyroo was almost exhausted, but in a good mood none the less. It had been a jolly chase, and the lovely half naked vixen was now sitting on his lap, on his erection actually. He did not know why she had the pencil at his throat, but apparently she thought that holding it there would make him spill the secret phrase. Seriously, he told himself, a pencil? He was not sure how much time had passed since her entrance, but felt that it must be getting close to thirty minutes, and another hundred dollars. He was sure that he could hold off long enough to earn the bonus. Let's see what she does when I refuse, he thought.

He wiggled his hips to get a better fell of her through the thin material of his trousers and said, "Never, bitch", thinking that the phrase fit the fantasy scenario nicely.

Vikki's vision darkened from red to black. Her paw trembled as she strained to hold it back. Was this some sort of test? Of course it was, she reminded herself, everything at F.O.X. Academy was a test, but not always the one you thought you taking. Suddenly she was not sure what to do. Left on its own, her paw pressed forward, enough for the pointy tip of the pencil to pierce the skin.

"Hey, watch it with that." Kyroo complained, feeling the prick. "If you're not careful you could hurt somebody."

"Wha- what?" Vikki pulled the pencil back, leaving a small drop of blood behind. He was taunting her again! Was this crazy Yank suicidal?

"Why don't you use the safety word?" She almost begged. "Do you want to die?"

"You mean the secret phrase." He corrected her, thinking that she was getting a bit too dramatic. "Safety words are for sparing. Secret phrases are for interrogations. I must say though, you have the vixen in my fantasy down to a 'T'." He knew he was breaking the mood somewhat, but the delay would help to earn him the bonus, and her shifting weight on his stiff cock was keeping his interest anyway. "Want to start again?" He asked solicitously.

Vikki froze, not breathing, her heart barely beating. On the wall beside her snout she saw the room schedule. She had known that it was there, but had not bothered to check it, because she knew that she was in the right place. But now she turned her head and looked it carefully. As she had expected, the words "Combat Simulation - Beausoleil" were typed in the one to four pm slot, but the words "Combat Simulation" had been crossed out and someone had written "Seduction Scenario" in their place. She recognized Randy O'Neil's writing.

Suddenly everything made sense: Delores' comments, the presence of Doctor Gordon instead of Rusty, the arctic foxes responses ... the fox! She looked down. He was looking up, with a huge friendly grin and a hopeful look in his eyes. She withdrew the pencil and dropped it on the floor. She felt something stir beneath her. Listing her hips, she reached down between her legs and felt around for whatever it was that had moved. She felt the material of his trousers, the double layer of cloth over the zipper, and the long, hard, warm tube below them. She gasped and looked at his face more closely. Holy crap! He is just a kid, a kid who thinks that we're playing out some sort of sexual fantasy.

Her heart was racing again as the adrenalin she had produced earlier coursed through her. But the blood had cleared from her eyes. It was being redirected to other areas. Running on automatic, her control centre had interpreted her position on top of the horny young fox and acted accordingly. Vikki suddenly felt flushed as her nipples hardened and her vagina grew wet.

He's a kid. The sensible part of her brain screamed. Eighteen, nineteen tops.

He's cute, and soooo hard. Another, untamed part answered.

He's an innocent kid, just out to make a few bucks playing at keeping secrets. After this he'll disappear, never to be seen again.

Exactly. Her wild side snickered.

You have a point there.

Vikki looked down on the fox, who was looking up expectedly, waiting for her to ask for the secret phrase. His fur was pure white, a little damp now from all the running, but she was dripping sweat too. His eyes were as blue as Silver's, but without that hard grey edge that made the senior agent's so cold. His snout was shorter than hers, and a little thicker. His brows were well defined, and his cheeks stuck out where hers were hollow, but it was nice face. She lowered her butt back to rest on his groin, grinding against his erection as she did. He opened his mouth to gasp, but before he could she drove her muzzle down over his and sucked his tongue into her mouth.

Oh, God, it's been so long. Both sides of her brain chorused. Go for it girl!

Keeping her face pressed against his and his tongue trapped she ground her sex against his and dug furrows in his chest fur with her claws. When her paws reached his waist she pulled at his belt and fly until his trousers were loose. Then she lifted her ass off him, reached behind her to grab the material and yanked the trousers down to his knees. Feeling around she found the waistband of his underwear. She got both paws on it and pulled, hard. The band separated and the cotton cloth ripped down to the seam on the leg, which did not put up any significant resistance either. Vikki pulled the tattered shorts out from under him like a magician doing a table trick. Then she ripped off her panties in a similar manner.

"Don't want to tell me the phrase, eh?" She crooned when she finally released the suction grip on his face. "Well, we'll see who talks in the end." She reached down between her legs again and gripped his cock, which was point upwards at a forty-five degree angle now that it was free, straining to reach the prize that was dripping sweet nectar just above it. Without hesitating she adjusted the angle and lowered herself onto it, so just the tip was nestled between swollen inner lips. "Gonna talk?"

'no' he squeaked.

"Good." And with that she drove herself down on his stiff rod as if she was committing seppuku with it.

They both gasped; Vikki from the hot meat pushing its way up inside her, Kyroo from the warm, slick glove that enveloped him.

"Oh my! You are big for age." Vikki mumbled as she bottomed out on the thick base of his shaft. Going down had turned her cunt outside in, and forced her swollen clit against the back of his cock. She flexed her thighs and rose up, relishing the return journey. At the apex she paused for moment, letting the tip tickle her before dropping down on it again.

Kyroo grit his teeth to keep from crying out. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth the secret phrase would pop out and she would stop. He was also afraid of coming after only a few strokes, and grimacing seemed to help. He had known a few girls in high school, but never one as big, beautiful, or aggressive as the vixen currently riding him like a bucking bronco, and he wanted to perform well. Fortunately, she seemed to know what she wanted and all that he had to do was lay back and enjoy it.

She continued to milk his cock, sometimes laying full length on him so her hard nipples rubbed against his and just rolled her hips to massage his rod with her twat. Other times she leaned back, holding onto his knees and using her legs to rise up off him and then letting gravity impale her on him again. She set the pace, and the old springs in the blue leather couch groaned with each thrust, but they sprung back each time, lending a little force to Kyroo's hips and helping him keep the rhythm.

As the minutes stretched out he grew more confident and dared to touch her with his paws. She was sitting up at the moment so he reached out and cupped her breasts. She did not object, so he flicked the stiff nipples with his digits, and then tweaked one of them tentatively to see how she would react. Far from being upset, she took his paw in hers and guided it to her mouth, where she sucked on his middle digit like it was a second cock. After doing that she put the sodden paw back on her breast and held it there while he tugged on her sensitive teat for a minute.

She pushed his paws aside and lay down on him again, grinding her chest against his. He ran his claws down her sides and around her rolling buttocks, gripping them and pulling them apart. Then he curled one paw around her tail and pulled it through the circle his digits made while the other felt himself moving in and out of her. She was dripping cunt juice, keeping them both lubricated, and it mingled with the saliva she had put on his paw a moment ago. Feeling along the edge of her twat he came to a small patch of taught flesh between her slit and her tail hole. She moaned as he pressed his pad against it, and moaned louder when he rubbed it in little circles.

He held her tail up out of the way as the circles got bigger until suddenly his digit slipped and pressed against the puckered hole below it. She gasped, and he was afraid that he had gone too far because he was paranoid about anything to do with anything touching his tailhole, but she did not pull away so he left it there. He rubbed it a bit, and felt her push back against his digit. Wiggling it a bit he felt it begin to open, but he stopped when she whispered in his ear.

"Wetter." She said. It took him a moment to figure out what she meant, but then he realized that his digit had gone dry with all the rubbing. He slid it down to where his shaft disappeared into her and rubbed around her clit to moisten it, eliciting another gasp and earning a love nip on his ear for his efforts. Bringing it back up, he pressed the tip of his digit against her tailhole once again and this time the orifice spread around his pad until it was poised on the edge of entering. He wanted to make sure that he did not hurt her though, so he returned to the trough of sweetness and tickled her clit again until his digit was soaked in her nectar.

On the third visit to her tailhole it not only spread, it swallowed his digit up to the first knuckle. He was not sure whether he should wiggle it around, pull it back out or drive it in deeper so he tried each. Judging her reactions he soon settled into a pattern of thrusts and twists that she seemed to enjoy.

She wasn't trying to sit up on him anymore. Sweat had soaked the fur between them so she planted her feet against one arm of the couch and her paws against the other and then began sliding back and forth along him. She began to mumble into his ear, "Oh yeah, drive it into me Kyroo. Drive your mama home" and increased the pace. He did his best to keep up with her, but it was hard to resist the urge to come as her twat alternately slid down his shaft then sucked back off of it. He thought that she must be close though, judging by the sounds coming out of her, so he bit down on his lip and tried to squeeze the little muscles at the base of his pelvis tight to keep the spooge from exploding out of his balls.

Vikki felt the orgasm building up inside of her. It had been over a year since her last one, a disappointing little affair with her surveillance partner, a dachshund, in the back of a Dodge Neon. This one promised to be much better. The Academy had been training them in techniques to delay orgasm, but she ignored them, afraid that she may wear out the young fox beneath her if she applied them. Instead, she increased the pace of the sliding that made his cock pull and plunge inside her like the piston of a steam locomotive while her ass sucked his digit up inside her other hole.

A sudden liquid heat and a stifled scream from the vixen signalled the climax, and Kyroo let himself go with a cry of relief. He had never come so intensely, and he wanted to grab her and hold her down with his cock buried deep inside her as he came, but she was too strong and slippery to hold, and she continued to move on his rod to prolong her own orgasm. His cock jerked inside her as sensations almost too good to bear shot through it.

Vikki began to slow down as the waves of ecstasy subsided. Her clit was so sensitive now that the slightest contact sent electric shocks coursing through her, and the more she stroked the kid's cock with her twat the more it jerked and excited her clit. She angled her hips a bit to give her love button some relief, and sensing that her movements were having a similar effect on the tip of her partner's cock, she slowed even more, and then stopped altogether. She shifted her paws to each side of his chest and propped herself up above him so she could look down into those clear blue eyes.

"Going to tell me the secret phase now?" she asked sweetly. Kyroo opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, she put a digit across his lips and continued. "Because if you don't, I'll have to do this to you a couple more times."

"We ... we can do that?" He asked with a tired grin."

"I've got the room booked until four. You up for it?"

Kyroo was.

* * * * * * * *

Doctor Gordon shifted in his chair. "She does know that we tape these, doesn't she?"

"No idea." Joel responded. "More popcorn?"

"Where did you get that from?"

"I always bring a bag with me when we tape these sessions, for occasions like this."

Doctor Gordon took a pawfull and munched it thoughtfully. "I would have suspected this kind of thing from Johnson, but not Beausoleil. He commented when his mouth was empty. "Interesting."

"I'll say, look what's she's doing to him now."

"No, I meant ... forget it." The rat glanced at the clock. "We should stop them .... the budget .... Williams will kill me."

"Aw, let them have their fun."

Gordon shrugged and leaned back in his chair. He could always claim that the kid turned out to be unusually resistant to questioning. He was certainly turning out to be durable, in any event. "Too bad we'll have to wipe his memory." He commented.

"Maybe you could just, you know, rinse it a bit?" Joel wiped bits of popcorn off his face as he replied. "You know, wipe out the details but leave him with some vague impressions and a few visual memories, like after a night out clubbing."

Gordon thought about it. "I could try," he said to himself, "but what combination of drugs would produce that effect?"

"Vodka, scotch and cherry jello shooters does it for me."

* * * * * * * *

"Kyroo, wake up."

"Nathan? Where am I? What day is it?"

"You're in my apartment. It's Wednesday morning. Where have you been?"

Kyroo rubbed his head. "I can't remember."

"Where did all this money come from?" Nathan was pointing to where Kyroo's slacks were sitting on a pile of other clothing by the futon. A small stack of Canadian fifty dollar bills was sticking out of the pocket. Kyroo guessed that there were at least a dozen of them.

"I ... I think that I earned them ... at one of the university labs. I met someone there ... I think." He shook his head in an attempt to clear it and burped. It tasted like stale scotch and cherries. He got up and stumbled past his cousin to the bathroom to rinse out his mouth.

"Did you have a good time at least?" Nathan called from the living room.

Kyroo spit in the sink and raised his head. His eyes were immediately attracted first to the parallel pink scratches showing through the sparse fur of his chest and then to the small bite marks on his neck and ears. He looked down at a penis that was sore and swollen, like it been the time he was fifteen and had found his uncle's collection of pornographic DVDs. Kyroo closed his eyes and fought to remember. Concentrating, he conjured up a vision of a tall vixen with vibrant red fur and a perfect body. The more he concentrated the more images came back to him. Below his waist, his prick made a valiant effort to rise up, but could only manage a weak twitch.

"You know," Kyroo told Nathan as he wrapped a towel around himself, "I think I did.

* * * * * * * *

Kyroo © Kyroo Echos

The other idiots © me, Dikran O.