FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Overpass Jones stood, his long coat open and tugged back to show the pistol holstered on his hip. His stubble was at that perfect length to suggest a life of adventure and intrigue, but not so long as to be wild. Overpass had long since learned that there was a very particular look to have while collecting on a job, and he had manicured it down to perfection. It was only broken up by the long scar that stretched from his left cheek down to just above his throat — a souvenir from the time he broke a military blockade on a smuggling run. He gripped the package he was meant to delivery under his arm. It felt heavier now that he was about to hand it over for his next payday.

He stood in the rear of his ship, watching as the hatch in the back slowly opened. There was a loud hum as the door raised, occasionally interrupted by grinding bangs. He tried to not flinch too much at each of these interruptions - they wouldn't ruin his entrance. Still, he made a mental note to budget some of this reward, or maybe the next one, to the repairs that he'd been putting off for months. It wouldn't do for his ship to fail in the middle of a job, or worse, in the middle of a—

There was a horrific screeching, and the hatch ground to a halt. Overpass stared ahead at the partially-open hatch for a few moments, counting under his breath. Once he reached ten, and the door hadn't started moving again, he leaned over and gave a swift kick to the control console. It let out a satisfying clang, but failed to make the door move another inch.

Overpass sighed. Okay. Definitely paying for those repairs with this reward.

He walked over to the hatch, and with a grumble put down the package and got down onto his stomach. He slid his legs out of the narrow space that had opened, and wormed his way out bottom first. He dropped to the steel flooring of the station's docking bay, then turned and reached back into his ship, pulling the package carefully out. He tucked it back under his arm, and adjusted his coat. He took one long steadying breath, and then turned to face his employers.

A group of six ratfolk stood across from him, all of them wearing labcoats. That was one fortunate thing for Overpass - it was generally easier to impress the academic types with tales of his dangerous lifestyle. It was only made easier by the fact that he was dealing with ratfolk. They weren't exactly the most physically imposing folk travelling the galaxy - the tallest of them only came up to just below his chest. He could see one of them in the back hiding a chuckle, but the rest remained straight-faced as he stepped over.

"Overpass Jones, I presume?" One of the ratfolk stepped forward to say this. There was grey showing in her black fur, and her ears were flicked back against her head.

"The one and only." He gave a practiced grin. "You are…?"

"Doctor Fellows," she replied. She gave him a curt nod, her whiskers twitching. "That scar of yours makes for quite the distinct calling card."

He reached up and dragged a thumb along the scar on his cheek, instinctively. "Just part of the job, Doctor."

"Of course." Doctor Fellows paused for a moment, before those ears rose inquisitively above her head. "Ship troubles?"

Overpass didn't miss the one or two chuckles from some of the other ratfolk gathered. He managed to hide his annoyance, though, and said, "She's an old bird, but she gets the job done. She just needs some TLC."

Fellows nodded, then gestured to one of the other ratfolk present. He moved forward, stepping past Overpass. "Please allow our engineers to take a look as a gesture of good faith, and appreciation for a job well done. That is, of course, assuming that package you're holding…?"

At this, Overpass grinned again. He'd briefly lost control of the discussion, but now… He hefted the package up. "On time and in perfect shape, exactly as requested."

Her eyes focused on the package, and her whiskers came forward the slightest bit. "I do hope it wasn't too much trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle." More like the easiest payday of his life. For the amount they'd offered for the job, and given that they'd specifically sought him out for it, he'd expected some level of resistance or pursuit. But no — he'd gone to the assigned location, picked up the package, and left. As easy as that.

Still, there was no reason to let the client know that. Overpass stepped over closer, and held the package out to Fellows. She took it gingerly from his hands, and looked it over. Overpass stood there, watching and waiting for her to speak.

At length, she glanced up at him, and her ears went back flat against her head again. "My thanks. It is in perfect condition. You do your work well."

Then she tossed the package carelessly over her shoulder.

Overpass let out a startled yelp, and reached out on instinct to grab for the package. That was his payday, his meal ticket. What the hell was she doing!?

He realized a moment later when a small pinch of pain hit him in the leg. He looked down, and saw that Fellows had lunged forward while he was distracted, and jabbed a hypodermic needle into his thigh, right through the material of his pants. By the time he looked, she'd already pressed the plunger all the way down.

She stepped back, pulling the needle out as she went. He was too stunned to react for a moment. He was dimly aware that one of the other ratfolk scientists had caught the package, but that suddenly seemed less important.

That's when numbness hit him, radiating out from where the needle had pierced him. He slipped down to one knee, gasping for breath. His hands hit the steel flooring a moment later, as his body suddenly felt heavy and awkward. From that position, he could just see Fellows' legs as she turned away. Her voice was already getting echoey in his ears.

"Get him prepared and move him to the chamber. That sedative won't last long."

Overpass missed anything else she might have said. His arms and legs gave out, and he lay sprawled out on his front on the floor of the docking bay. He was dimly aware of his body being rolled over onto some sort of stretcher, and then lifted. His vision was hazy, so he could only make out odd splotches of light and colour as his body was moved. Anything that was said around him turned into muffled mumbling.

Eventually, he felt himself being tilted forward, and landing on his feet. They gave out almost immediately, and he crumpled to the ground. He remained there as the sounds all faded away around him. Once or twice he tried moving, but his body was still so heavy and unwieldly.

He took a breath, and there was something odd in the air. He could just taste it. As that breath filled his lungs, the heaviness that had settled on him lifted somewhat. He took another breath, and then another, sucking in deep breaths. Feeling soon returned to the rest of his body, and the noises around him grew more distinct.

Overpass gave his head a shake, and then lifted his head. When that worked, he got his feet underneath him, and stood up straighter. Whatever they'd put into the air, it had fully cleared the effects of the sedative from his system. He gave himself a quick once-over, and was not at all surprised to see that they'd taken his gun.

He took a quick look around. He was in a small, well-lit room. There were mirrors on all four walls from about the height of his shins to just above his head. It reminded him of a dance studio. That was it, though. No furniture, no visible recording equipment. He couldn't even see the outline of a door in any of the walls.

He was just about to call out when there was a sharp click. The mirrors on one of the walls suddenly turned translucent, and Overpass could just see through to the other side, through the half-reflection of his scarred face. A dozen or so ratfolk were gathered in what looked like a laboratory. Some of them were working at monitors and other bits of equipment that Overpass couldn't identify, but the majority were standing on the other side of the one-way mirror, their eyes focused on him. In front of all of these stood Fellows, her whiskers twitching. She was speaking with one of the other ratfolk, but Overpass couldn't hear it through the glass.

His hand curled into a fist, and after a few seconds of watching them he reached out and rapped on the glass. It vibrated a bit, and all of the scientists turned to stare at him.

"Oi!" he yelled, his voice echoing back at him. "Let me out of here now, and we won't have a problem."

The ratfolk kept staring at him, none of them reacting. Then, at length, Fellows reached out and touched a button on a console just in front of her. When she spoke, her voice filtered into the room. "I'm sorry, Mr Jones. You'll have to repeat that."

"I said let me go now, and I might just forget about that whole sedation thing!" Overpass crossed his arms, and stood up straighter. He glared down at the ratfolk, and let a dangerous growl creep into his voice. "If not, well… it wouldn't be the first time I've cracked a few rats' heads together."

There were a moments of silence while all of the rats kept watching him. Then, Fellows let out a long, audible sigh. "Yes. Well, good luck with that. We're going to proceed now."

"Don't you fucking dare…" His voice trailed off as Fellows lifted her finger off of the button. She turned, and gestured to one of the ratfolk sitting at a monitor. He nodded back at her, and then pressed a few buttons.

This time, Overpass heard the soft hissing of something being added to the air. He glanced up, and noticed that a few vents had opened in the walls, closer to the ceiling. Whatever was filtering into the air, it was entirely colourless.

Overpass took a deep breath, and then clenched his mouth shut. He squeezed a finger around his nose, and then began casting about, looking for anything that he could use. All he found was that same featureless room, with the mirrors on three walls casting his image back at himself. The ratfolk looking in on him from the fourth wall seemed excited, and a few of them were prodding each other and pointing at him. Fellows was leaning forward, her face inches from the glass.

Overpass's lungs began feeling the pinch of holding his breath. He dug his free hand into the pockets of his coat, searching around for anything he could use, anything that would be helpful. They'd managed to pick him clean of anything, though. There wasn't even a pebble or a stray bullet in there.

His chest was starting to burn at this point. He looked at the glass, and could just make out his red-faced reflection, standing out starkly from the pale skin of his scar. In a fit of desperation, he took a step towards the glass, and drew back his fist. He slammed it forward as hard as he could.

There was a bang, but the glass didn't give an inch. Pain lanced up Overpass's arm from his knuckles, and his mouth opened in a yelp. He couldn't stop himself from sucking in a deep breath of air.

He blinked as he realized what he'd done, and just stood there, staring straight ahead at the one-way glass. No point trying to hold his breath, now. His chest was heaving, and he just waited for… he didn't know what.

There was a brief moment of lightheadedness, and he staggered forward, placing a hand on the glass for support. He took a few breaths, and then stood up straighter. He blinked in surprised as he looked at the ratfolk on the other side. He remembered them being just up to his midriff before. They looked closer to his chest, now.

He took a step back, thinking to get a better look at them from further back. He almost fell over again as his boots felt uncomfortably loose on his feet, and his pants seemed to catch. He stared down at himself in surprise, and that was when he noticed how loose all of his clothing looked. Not ridiculously - just like they were all a size too large for him.

He took another step back, and let out a frustrated grunt as his feet caught on the hem of his long coat. He shrugged it off; the thing was sitting too wide on his shoulders, anyways. It fell away and pooled on the floor, baring his arms. He cast a glance down at his body, then returned his attention to the half-visible ratfolk in front of him… and then he looked back down. Something was off. His skin looked lighter. Or no, was… had his arm hair fallen out? He lifted his forearm up closer to his face, and that's when he saw it.

His arm hair hadn't fallen out — it had turned white. For a moment he thought that maybe it had gotten thinner too, but as he stared he could see more fine white hairs sprouting out of his skin along his arm. Now that he'd seen it, he became aware of a soft prickling session all across his body. It wasn't quite uncomfortable, but it was certainly unsettling.

He cast an angry look over at the ratfolk watching him. They were all leaning forward now. Fellows had an increasingly wide grin showing on her face. Overpass glared at her, and then walked carefully over to one of the walls in his too-large boots. He leaned in closer to his reflection, and tried to hold in a gasp as he saw the fine hairs sprouting on his face, as well. Worse than that, his carefully manicured stubble was being consumed by the white hairs, and converted to be the same colour. A quick glance at his short-cropped hair revealed whiteness seeping into it as well, stretching out from the roots.

That wasn't all, though. As he stared into his own face, an odd itchiness teased at the tip of his nose. It felt for a moment like he was about to sneeze, and he was about to reach up when he stopped, staring into his reflection. Before his eyes, he watched his nose twitch all on its own, and press out just the slightest bit from his face. The itchiness abated for the slightest of seconds, and then returned in full force.

A cool fear spread through him, contrasting with the warmth and general discomfort of his shifting body. As the coating of white grew more defined on his face, and his nose twitched out further, that fear gathered in his guts. A life of constantly being under fire had long since taught Overpass that the best thing to do with fear was to turn it into anger.

He turned away from his reflection as his nose continued twitching and pressing forward, and he rushed towards the window with the ratfolk in it. His hands balled into fists, and he raised them up, preparing to beat on the glass again. When he was about halfway to the window, though, another wave of disorientation hit him. He let out a startled groan, his voice cracking in the process. As he took his next staggering step forward, his boot slipped off. His bare foot came down, and got caught on the hem of his pants. He fell flat on his face, his other boot coming off in the process.

His nose banged off of the ground as he fell. He rolled over and grasped at it, and was stunned by how far it stretched from his face. The rest of his face had pulled forward with it, into a short proto-muzzle. His fingers also felt something sticking out from the rest of his face — a set of long whiskers. As his fingers brushed over them, they twitched.

Overpass yanked his hand back as if it had been burned. His nose still had that itchy, on-the-cusp-of-sneezing feeling, and he felt the occasional twitches forward. He got back up to his feet, and grabbed onto the loose waist of his pants to keep them up. His shirt was hanging off of his shoulders, now, and he felt ridiculous as he shuffled towards the window. It didn't help that the warmth of his change was intensifying, beginning to grow into a heat. He tried to ignore the heat as he drew up to the window.

The ratfolk were up to his neck, now. Overpass glared at them, putting as much venom behind the look as he could. On the other side of the glass, Fellows flashed him a grin, and pressed the button on her console again.

"Did you have something to say?"

"You're going to regret this." His voice was higher than he remembered, but he pushed that observation away. He tried to force some gravel into his voice as he continued. "My hands are still large enough to hold a gun and pull a trigger."

"I'm sure they are, Mr Jones." Fellows paused after that, tilting her head to the side. "I suppose I should stop calling you that. Ah well."

Before Overpass could demand an explanation of that, Fellows lifted her finger off of the button. He was about to try slamming his fists into the glass again, but at that moment an entirely alien, intense shudder ran down his spine. The shudder seemed to pool at the base of his spine, and then push further down. He let out a gasp, and before he could stop himself, his hands released his waistband and went back to grab at the base of his spine.

His pants and undergarments slid down his legs, bunching around his shins. His hands came down on his tailbone, and his eyes widened as he felt the flesh at the base of his back pushing out. His back and rumpcheeks were soft with a fine layer of white fur, but where the flesh was pressing out, it felt smooth to the touch. Overpass was so distracted by the feeling of the growth that he didn't even notice his pants had fallen down for the first few moments. It wasn't until he felt cool air on his thighs that he glanced down, and let out a startled squeak.

He clamped his thighs together, trying to cover his maleness while keeping his hands on his sprouting tailbone. It wasn't like he had anything to be ashamed of — more than a few of the ratfolk watching him were nudging their fellows, and pointing down at the soft shaft between his legs. His entire body was covered in lean, well-toned muscle, and the thin coating of white fur wasn't doing anything to hide that away. It may have just been a trick of his new size, but it looked to Overpass like his thighs were a tad thicker than he remembered.

Another shudder ran down his spine, stronger than the first. Overpass tried and failed to bite back a groan of discomfort. His legs quivered, and he felt that surging, twitching growth under his hands. He leaned forward, thighs clamped together, and rump tilting upwards to follow the sprouting. He struggled for a moment to keep his balance, but soon his toes scrabbled against the steel floor, and he tumbled forward.

His chest and knees smacked against the floor. He managed to tilt his head upwards so that he didn't hit his growing muzzle. His rump was still raised in the air, and he could feel more flesh surging past his fingers. The mass sprouting out above his rump remained bare, unlike the rest of him. He could feel the broadening base forcing his asscheeks to spread a bit. It made him change his stance, parting his thighs. His member hung down, now easily visible between his legs.

Overpass's chest heaved as those shudders ran down his spine again and again. He could hear his breathy voice in his ears. Each time the voice rang up into his ears, it felt like the sound was stretching his ears out rounder and larger. In addition, each panting gasp sounded a bit different. His voice was getting softer, higher. It confused him, but he could barely pay attention to that past the heat building in his rump.

The shudders running down Overpass's spine were quickly becoming intense, hot throbs. They gathered and pulsed in his ass, making him squirm. He kicked his feet, scrabbling the forming claws on his toes against the floor until he managed to extricate himself from his pants and undergarments. He could feel his forming tail beginning to wriggle and and flick, sending alien sensations rushing into his overloaded brain.

The heat kept building in his ass, and soon began spreading down between his legs. Under his increasingly sensitive fingers, he felt a shifting, and slid his hands down further. His fingers found that his rump was swelling — not exaggeratedly, but certainly noticeably. His firm, flat rump now had some curve to it. The feeling of it growing larger, combined with the writhing and throbbing of his tail, forced a few hard bucks of his hips.

It was as his hips were bucking back on one such throb that another bout of disorientation rushed over him. With his body pressed to the floor, he could actually feel his chest dragging backwards closer to his knees. The feeling was more intense than he thought it should have been — his chest gave off sharp, brief sensations of butterflies in his stomach whenever his nipples dragged over anything. He let out a soft, wet gasp at the sensation, which cut out into a startled squeak as his head slipped inside of his shirt. As the feelings dissipated, he struggled at his now much too large shirt, sliding it off of his head.

He came out of the bottom, now fully nude. He rolled over onto his back, and just lay there, panting for breath. Being free of the clothing helped, but the heat was still filling him up. It pulsed in his guts and between his legs, making him bite back desperate groans. At length, he couldn't hold back anymore. He slid a hand down, and grasped for the familiar length of his shaft. His fingers closed around it, and his hips bucked instinctively. Both the shaft and his fingers felt more sensitive - his fingers could feel every twitch of blood going into the shaft, and the feedback from his cock was so intense that it was almost uncomfortable. He gave a long, slow stroke, and moaned as he felt his cock give a hard throb… smaller.

Overpass blinked, and then looked down. His breath caught in his throat as he saw how puffy the flesh around his nipples looked, almost like they'd swollen a bit. Down past that, though, he looked at his lap. His cock was as hard as it had ever been in his life, and his dainty, furless paw was wrapped around it, still jerking at it. At first he thought it was a trick of his reduced size, but somehow it looked smaller than he recalled. But that couldn't be…

His lap pulsed with heat, his hips bucked, and his cock gave a powerful throb. Before his eyes, accompanied by a soundtrack of a soft moan, he watched his member grow briefly thicker with blood… and then shrink.

Fear lanced through the rest of his body, though it didn't quite reach his loins or the hand gripping his shaft. His eyes flicked up at the wall with the glass on it, and he was horrified to see all of the scientists leaning forward to look down at his changing body. Overpass's mouth dropped open, and for a moment he wanted to scurry back over to his clothes to cover himself.

Another powerful throb ran down his shaft, and his head tilted back. His moan was long and high. He felt his balls pull up a bit, as though he were about to cum. He felt no rush of release, though, and he was very aware that his balls didn't drop back down afterwards.

Overpass struggled up to his feet, barely able to keep his footing. His hand never left his cock, constantly stroking at it. By this point, his hand dwarfed his cock, fully covering it. He kept stroking, though, feeling flashes of heat running through his loins. He turned away from the window, and was greeted by his own reflection.

He froze in place. His body was unrecognizable. His face had taken on the pointed muzzle of a rat, complete with whiskers and rounded ears. He was still covered in trim muscle, but it was accompanied by some softer curves and a thin layer of white fur. The only parts of him devoid of the fur were the tip of his nose, his feet and hands, his tail, and the scar on his cheek. His shoulders were narrower, and his waist a bit broader from his squat stature. His hips rounded outwards, supporting his thicker rump and the nude tail that hung from it. He couldn't see his genitals past his hand; his balls weren't even hanging low enough to show below it now. That said, a quick glance at that effeminate frame told him exactly what he thought should be there.

More heat throbbed through him, making his legs quiver. He felt his balls uncomfortably tight against his crotch, and knew that the organs were rearranging and adjusting their purpose. He was gripping his cock with just his fingertips now, still stroking and rubbing at it desperately.

He dragged his eyes away from the reflection of his crotch, and settled instead on his chest. The flesh there was a bit puffy, noticeably now. A stray thought wondered what it felt like, and his free hand went up. He cupped one of his nipples before he could stop himself, and a small glow of warmth lit up. Under his fingers, he felt the flesh push out the slightest bit more, as though pressing out to greet his palm.

Overpass Jones squeezed, and this time, he didn't try to fight the high, powerful groan that slipped out of his muzzle. Another throb of intense heat ran through his groin, and suddenly the heat was countered by cool air on fresh skin. His hips rocked back, and an intense, deep longing suddenly stabbed into his guts. His breath came shallow, and his fingers rubbed at the nub that was left of his cock.

He stared at his reflection, his eyes glassy with lust. His hand was still squeezing at his breast, and he wanted to grope at the other. He didn't want to leave either unattended, though, and he certainly wasn't going to leave that fire and the gaping need between his legs unattended. He stood there, stricken and indecisive for a long moment, staring at his reflection.

Then his tail gave a twitch. He glanced down at it, and went completely motionless.

His hand lifted away from his crotch, and came up to grab his other breast. He squeezed on both of his breasts at once, and he tilted his head back. That tail of his wormed around, and with a bit of a stretch that he felt far lower down in his spine than he was used to, its tip pressed between his legs. It probed around, sending shocks of pleasure through him. There was slickness running down onto his tail, coating the tip with need.

Overpass Jones took a long, steadying breath, and looked his reflection in the eye.

The tail pressed upwards. Overpass cried out, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of sensation. She dropped to her knees, leaning back as her tail began jerking inside of her, in and out in clumsy thrusts. For the first few seconds of this, she just kept her head tilted back, her muzzle held open as she lavished in the feelings.

As the pleasure began building, though, she rolled her head back forward, and forced herself to look at her reflection. A fit, trim ratfolk woman looked back at her, all white fur and lean muscle. Her hands were gripping her modest breasts, rubbing up and down over them. Her body was flushed with pleasure, and trembles ran up and down her form.

Her pleasure mounted, nearing a peak. The heat flashed upwards momentarily, and Overpass forced herself to keep staring forward. She stared into her own eyes as they lightened from brown to an unnatural pinkish-red. The heat filtered down to her cheek, to that scar that had so defined her career and reputation for years. Her tail fucked deep into her opening a bit harder as she watched fur grow in over the scar, and the flesh underneath smooth out.

With that, the heat building in her spilled out. She fell back onto her rump, and writhed in place as her orgasm wracked her body. New muscles clenched around her tail, milking it for her pleasure. She rode the pleasure out, keeping her eyes clenched shut as her every fibre lit up with sensation.

She came down slowly, her tense muscles all beginning to relax. Her hands slipped away from her breasts, and fell limp against the cool floor. Her tail, almost cramping from the awkward position, slid out, making her shudder at the feeling. It flopped to the ground, its tip coated in her juices.

Overpass lay there for a while, just panting in her afterglow. At some point, she heard a click, and glanced over at the wall where the scientists had been watching. It had turned back into a reflective surface, and so she was left alone to recover.

She didn't know how long she lay there — it could have been minutes or hours. Eventually, though, she rose shakily to her feet. She glanced over to her clothing, trying to decide whether it was worth it to try and scavenge something wearable out of them.

It was as she was deciding this that there was a soft hum. She glanced towards the source, and watched as part of one of the walls slid open, leaving an opening to another room. Overpass hesitated, but eventually stepped forward. Her tail hung casually behind her as she moved. For all that it felt new and awkward, it was clear that her new limb knew exactly how to handle itself.

She stepped from her small observation room into another small lab. This one looked more like a doctor's office, with an observation table and a desk. There were a few touchscreens on the walls that were filled with charts and figures, but she couldn't make any sense of them. There was a full-length mirror on the wall, and she gave herself a few more curious glances in it.

What caught her attention, though, was the package sitting on the desk. Her eyes widened as she saw it, and recognized it as the package that the ratfolk had asked her to deliver. The hermetically sealed package was sitting open, the lid placed to the side.

Overpass hesitated for a long few moments before she stepped over to it. She reached inside, and lifted out the only contents: a jumpsuit. It was mostly blue, with white trim and purple accents in places. Her fingers slid over the material, and she immediately knew that this was more than just a plain jumpsuit. The material was some sort of tight, slick mesh, which she recognized as some of the latest tech smartweave. The thing could probably adapt itself to just about any environment, and probably harden or soften to absorb impacts.

She stared at it for a long while, an undeniable curiosity eating at her. Then, she unfolded the suit. Its back was open, with no visible zipper or fastener.

She slid one leg into it, and then the other. She lifted the material up, and it pulled tight against her fur. The suit went down, covering a few inches of her thighs, but leaving the vast majority of her legs bared. She slipped her hands into the sleeves, which were just long enough to cover her shoulders. The front was cut in a 'V', just low enough to give a hint at her slight cleavage.

As soon as she was in, she felt the suit seal shut along the back. She hesitated, then turned and looked in the mirror. The bodysuit covered her, but it left nothing to the imagination. Much of her white fur was still bared, and the tight, slick material only served to draw more attention to her slight curves.

She was interrupted from her self-evaluation when another door to the room opened. She turned, and her eyes narrowed as Doctor Fellows stepped into the room. The older ratfolk didn't even look up as she stepped inside, reading from a tablet.

"I do apologize for the subterfuge and the lack of clarity—"

"And the drugging and kidnapping?" Overpass was pleased to note that her female voice could still muster plenty of sharpness.

"Yes, that too." Fellows at last glanced up at her, and her eyes looked her over with equal parts medical detachment and slight interest. "Before you start making use of whatever testosterone that might be lingering in your body to shout and attack, let me outline my proposal."

Overpass kept glaring, her hands clenched into fists. At length, though, she inclined her head. "Go on."

"Overpass Jones was a very talented, but frequently underpaid smuggler and bounty hunter. His ship was a deathtrap, and his funds were low." Fellows' voice wasn't cruel or accusatory as she spoke. It was cold and analytical. She was listing facts. "Meanwhile, my associates and I frequently require… difficult to obtain materials and information for our research, and it can be challenging always working with bounty hunters who seem to think that our stature means that they can charge extra.

"So, you are our Alpha Subject. A ratfolk with all of the skills of a life of smuggling and bounty hunting, on private retinue to our research station. We pay your room and board and equipment fees, and you run our legally questionable reclamation missions."

Overpass eyed her for a long moment, not entirely sure how to take all of that. At length, she gathered up her voice, and finally managed to ask, "…why a woman?"

Fellows sighed, then shrugged. "You didn't seem to mind the switch in the observation chamber, did you?"

Overpass's cheeks burned at that, and she cleared her throat. "That doesn't answer my question."

"No, it doesn't." Fellows held her tablet out. On it, there was a contract, with a signature section. "Do we have a deal?"

Overpass's eyes flicked between Fellows, and the contract, and then back to Fellows. Then, at length, she glanced over to the mirror again. She caught a glimpse of the suit hugging her body, her clean white fur looking slick over her toned muscle. Her tail gave a twitch.

She reached out and took the tablet. She looked at the signature line for a short while, and then pressed her claw to it, writing out in careful strokes, 'Alpha.' Alpha held the tablet back out to her new employer, and muttered, "We have a deal, doctor."