****Later that Evening****

  Tiffany was early, dressed in a baggy sweatsuit and cheap sandals she'd picked up from a local general store during her trek from the police station to her apartment. They were inexpensive—something she didn’t mind getting messy or destroyed.

  Completely calm, she reclined, enjoying the sunset from her vantage point on the roof of an old grain silo overlooking the old playground, wearing her human form. She waited, savoring the stillness and allowing her mind to drift freely.

  Eventually, she dozed off for about an hour until the putter of a small engine pulled her from her slumber. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and focused on the headlight cutting through the wooded area on the outskirts of the playground.

  "Hmmm, sounds like my guest," she mused with a small smile. "Looks like he’s taking an indirect route—checking out the area. Brownie points for the human."

  Stretching leisurely, she smirked. "Looks like it’s time to test out the new recruit," she murmured to herself. Rising to her feet, she gave a final stretch, then nonchalantly stepped off the edge of the silo, disappearing silently into the moonlit night.

  In a blur, Tiffany darted to the outskirts of the tree line at the edge of the large, vacant playground area, staying clear of where the human had parked his bike. She stood behind a tree, watching him as he checked the area, glanced at his watch, looked around again, and finally settled on the nearby swing set, lighting a smoke.

  *Sniff, sniff, sniiiifff.*

  *Hmmm—he has a different smell to him than before…well, it’d be rude to be late,* she thought to herself, silently making her way behind him and gently grabbing a seat on the swing next to him.

  “Nice evening, isn’t it?” Tiffany said, trying to sound as cheery as possible despite the knot of nervousness and anxiety twisting her insides. Her tension eased slightly when she saw Nick’s reaction—he twitched faintly but managed not to jump out of his skin at her sudden appearance. Tiffany raised a hand to stifle a giggle, though Nick didn’t seem entirely pleased, taking a moment to collect himself.

  It was just the two of them, just how she wanted. She sat quietly, trying to think of something to say, slowly rocking back and forth on the swing. The *creak-creak-creak* of the rusty chains broke the awkward silence in the crisp night air. Nick sighed, exhaling a puff of smoke, finally breaking the tension.

  “So it really was you from the party…” he said surprisingly calmly, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

  "Guilty!" she replied, turning her head toward the human, flashing him a cheesy smile and peace sign while still rocking in the rust chains of the swing. That just seemed to create an awkward silence between the two, other than the occasional wisp of wind and the squeak of the swings.

  The only response the human offered her was an unamused flat stare.

  Completely out of the blue, the first thing that popped into Tiffany’s head was why he smelled different.

  “Oh! You swapped brands. No wonder your smell was a bit different tonight,” she cheerily realized, gesturing to his still-lit cigarette.

  “So I take it you’ve gotten the package?” she asked, still rocking back and forth on the swing, her face turned toward him, beaming like she’d accomplished some impossible task.

  Nick frowned slightly as he pulled his cigarette from his mouth, glancing at it, then at her. Smoke traced small wisps in the night as he turned his gaze intently back to her.

  “That’s the whole reason I’m here. And as for the Luckies instead of the Reds—you can probably blame your package for that. I couldn’t focus all day and forgot mine at work, which meant I had to buy another pack. Also, they were out of my brand at the store. Now I’m hoping, after all this drama… to get some answers to all the questions you’ve left me with.”

  “For one: Who are you? Two: How’d you get Tommy’s wallet? Three: Are you working with that wolf creature? Four… probably a few more, but I can’t think of them right now.”

  Nick, the human, was still pretty calm—but his voice and rapidly beating heart told her otherwise. He was clearly exasperated, so she tried to liven things up a little to take the edge off.

  “Awww,” she said with a pouty face as she kicked forward mid-swing, hopping off and gracefully landing in front of the unamused human still trying to finish his smoke. She figured she’d try to be playful to cheer him up a little, but it didn’t quite reciprocate so well with him.

  “Now why would I wanna tell you any of that?” she joked playfully, leaning forward and tapping him lightly on the tip of his nose with her index finger.

  “Boop,” she added.

  “So then why am I even here?!?” he asked, his frustration breaking through his calm demeanor.

  She thought for a moment, pushing her personal feelings down.

  Okay, deep breath. Be professional—there’s a lot more riding on this than my personal feelings.

  After her business-side pep talk, she mentally put her war face on.

  “Okay? So now what?” Nick asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

  Okay, game time, she told herself.

  “You, fine sir, need to best me in combat—fight me like your life depends on it, because I assure you, it absolutely does! Defeat me and claim your prize!”

  *Maybe that was too much war face,* she thought to herself, cringing slightly.

  *Oh well—’tis the risk you run with improvising. Okay, time to try out that slow-shift,* she told herself.

  “Look, I don’t want to fight a girl! Come on, I just want some goddamned answers!”

  She wasn’t listening at this point. She hopped back a bit to give them both some space, her clothes pulling tighter than expected. Arching her back, she tried to stretch her sweatshirt out a bit, hoping the material would hold.

  Ow! This thing’s getting tight! Glad I didn’t wear a bra today, she thought, wincing as her body outgrew her clothes.

  The sweatshirt grew painfully tight at the armpit seams. With a flex, she tore the joints, opening them up for a bit of relief. The sleeves shredded apart on their own without any prompt. Her once-baggy sweatshirt was now a sheer, sleeveless crop-top—far too short, exposing a daring amount of underboob.

  Her oversized sweatpants tightened uncomfortably as her legs began to thicken, bend, and contort—her joints popping and re-bending below the knee. Her once-dainty feet bulged as her toes merged and plumped from five tiny digits to form three fat ones.

  Her toenails changed from a pale pinkish-clear to three stone-black claws that shredded her cheap sandals. Her sweatpants cinched quicker than she’d hoped—especially at the groin. The intense pressure, coupled with a sudden surge of hormones, forced an unintended, blood-curdling howl from her muzzle.

  *Great—I'm going to smell like a sopping wet dog after this... and not from sweat...* she thought, mentally kicking herself for not bringing a fresh change of clothes.

  She opened and closed her elongated fingers, accentuating her six-inch claws as they sheathed and unsheathed with a soft, menacing click. She tilted her head to the side, one ear twitching in a spasmodic rhythm.

  Amid the chaos of her shift, her gaze drifted to the human, who stood frozen—paler than usual.

  *Okay, don’t kill him, just rough him up a bit. Stay focused and try to hold back,* she thought as she watched him, momentarily dazed. He started to briefly shake his head side to side, and as she squatted down, she noticed that he seemed to focus. That cool, calm collectiveness physically resonated from him, but she knew he was doing his best to stay brave. Her twitching ears picked up the sound of his heart racing like a small animal running laps—adrenaline pumping at full blast, mixed with fear.

  *Hmmm; still showing bravery in the face of intimidating odds. Bravo, human… bonus points to you. Now let’s see how you use that resolve,* she thought, grinning as she crouched, ready to pounce.

  She watched him twitch. At this, she launched herself into the air at him, claws ejected.

  *Shling*—her claws came down, just missing him.

  *Ah—fudruckles. Well, at least he dodged in time. Ugh—I’ll have to fix that stupid swing after we’re done,* she thought, mentally rolling her eyes at the close call. (Mind the swingset.)

  Her eyes locked onto the human, who executed a duck-and-roll, spun on his knee, drew his weapon, and squeezed off three shots *Katchow--katchow--kachow*—one landing squarely in her left butt cheek, making her yelp.

  Hey! That asshole shot me! *Oh—yeah, of course he would. Sigh. Well, I am pretend "trying" to kill the poor bastard,* she thought, mentally face-palming before verbally venting the rest of her grievances.

  “That stung, you asshole!” she roared, massaging her left cheek as the freshly sliced swing set collapsed behind her. She was still focused on the pain in her backside when he squeezed off a couple more rounds—but she quickly forgot her rump and gracefully sidestepped each slow-moving shot.

  Her reflexes kicked in, unintentionally triggering a flashstep—bolting toward him faster than he could follow. She disappeared and reappeared in a zigzag pattern. Before he could fire again, she appeared in front of him, driving one of her three-toed paws into his ribcage.

  She paused, wincing as she watched him skip end over end across the hard dirt like a stone skimming a calm lake, before landing on his back and sliding to a stop.

  “Dammit…” she grumbled, rubbing her forehead with her thumb and index finger.

  “I’m going to end up accidentally killing the poor bastard,” she muttered, groaning to herself.

  *Come on, girl, you know you’re supposed to go easy on the guy, right?* she thought, cringing at the idea of finishing him off.

  "Ugh. Best to wrap this up while he’s down—he’s had enough torment for one evening." She muttered, somewhat disappointed that she had to hold back so much.

  She flashstepped again, reappearing over him and pressing her large padded hind paw firmly—but gently—against his chest.

  “You’ve been a pain in my ass all evening! Literally!” she said, still rubbing the welt on her butt cheek.

  “You started this mess!” he coughed, wincing.

  She frowned slightly, easing some of the pressure off his chest. As Tiffany mumbled to herself, lost in thought, she barely registered the human fumbling in his pocket—until it was too late.

  The moment he popped the cap and tossed it upward, everything seemed to slow. Her face dropped into an uh-oh expression, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.

  *Oh fudruckles*… she thought.

  *Phiiisshbang!!!*

  The canister exploded in a blinding flash. Agony shot through her ears—piercing, like nails driven into her skull. The blasted ringing wouldn’t stop, practically crippling her as she clutched her head, howling in pain.

  She dropped to a knee, her eqlalibrium completely off kilter by the blast as she tried to stand.

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  “You son of a—aaacckkk!”

  Before she knew it, the human was on her back, locking his arms around her neck. She dropped to all fours, shaking and bucking, trying to throw him off—but he clung like velcro.

  She slowed, swaying side to side before regaining her balance. To her surprise, as his arms tightened around her neck, he unknowingly pressed against a sensitive spot. The pressure, coupled with his hand rubbing the base of her ear, sent a surge through her, involuntarily arching her back and locking her legs as they trembled making her brain practically melt in a euphoric state that she never felt before.

  Her eyes rolled back, her mind adrift like in a cloud. "Harder... daddy," escaped her muzzel with a small grin. The last thing she recalled was the grip intensifying until her legs spasmed, buckling as she blacked out.

  ****One Eternity Later****

  (Really only about Fifteen minutes)

  Tiffany felt a mix of pain—from her rump to the lingering ringing in her ears. Her mind floated on a cloud, drifting back to the fight with the human. She briefly remembered the feeling toward the end, like a dam breaking, relieving the built-up pressure. As she became more conscious, it finally dawned on her what had happened—but she didn’t have the luxury to ponder it.

  *Ugh… my head. Why do I smell—smoke? Wait, cigarettes?*

  *Thump-thump-thump.*

  Something warm and metallic was gently tapping her on the end of her muzzle, trying to get her attention.

  “Hey, wake up,” came a voice from above.

  Tiff’s vision was blurry as her eyes fluttered open, trying to make sense of what was going on.

  “Ughhh—where am I?” she growled groggily, blinking against the dizziness, willing the world to stop spinning. “Why does my chest feel heavier than usual?”

  As things came into focus, she noticed something warm and metallic poking her nose—the scent of gunpowder hit her senses like a caffeine jolt, snapping her eyes wide open.

  She froze.

  The gun barrel pressed lightly against her nose. Her gaze traced the weapon, then the arm holding it—to the human, Nick, nestled comfortably atop her chest.

  Her crimson cheeks lightened to a whitish pink as she blushed slightly at the situation. *Sigh.*

  Her expression shifted to a small frown, sarcasm threading through her growl.

  “Well, by all means, make yourself at home,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  The man sitting comfortably atop her chest took a final drag from his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke in her face, making her snout wrinkle. He shifted a bit, the gun barrel still pressed to the tip of her nose, then pinched out the cigarette butt and tossed it to the side.

  “Believe me, ma’am, after the crap you’ve put me through this evening, I sure will,” he replied from his comfy nest, jabbing the gun into her nose a little more forcefully.

  “So, are we going to be civil now?”

  Tiffany rested her head against the hard, bare earth to ease the pressure of the gun off her nose. He kept the barrel hovering just above her muzzle as she reclined slightly, stretching with a small yawn. She looked up at him with a wry grin, flashing a few pearly white canines.

  “Congratulations, human, you win,” her smile growing wider.

  “Also—I’ll be civil if you will,” she said, with a playful glint in her eyes, sticking her index claw into the end of the gun barrel, nudging it aside.

  “I was civil from the beginning, you two-ton psycho furry!” the man spat, exasperated.

  “I had my reasons,” she said, tilting her head to the side with a pout.

  The man froze, his expression suddenly blank. His heavy gun dropped to the side, bumping her chest and making her flinch.

  Regaining his composure, he sighed heavily, mumbling under his breath as he reholstered the weapon.

  Tiffany gave him a flat look, as if to diffuse the moment.

  “As much as I like having a man on top, may I please sit up for this?” Her tone landed somewhere between a grumble and a growl.

  The man nodded and shifted in place. As he did, he unintentionally found another sensitive spot, making her shudder slightly, her fur bristling. This time, he paused—realizing what he’d done—before finally sliding off, landing on the ground with a thud as he tried to shrug off the brief, quiet growl… one that almost sounded more like a moan.

  Tiffany, relieved, sat up and grabbed her head, twisting it from left to right, cracking her stiff neck and easing some of the tension.

  While the man stayed distracted, fiddling with something, her gaze drifted to her lap—landing on her wet, shredded, skin-tight sweatpants.

  *No. Did I—? Oh, come on. Not here…

  Sniff—sniff.

  Yeah, that’s not sweat. Damn it… Maybe he won’t notice…*

  Her attention floated back to him just as he slowly turned around, lighting another cigarette.

  “Wow, for someone so tough, you’re really sensitive,” the man said nonchalantly, waving his lit cigarette around as he spoke, breaking the silence

  Tiffany straightened up, shifting her weight to the side that wasn’t shot, gently massaging her bruised rear end.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, not really thinking through what he was alluding to.

  “Well, you pretty much came like Niagara Falls when I was trying to choke you out in the middle of a fight—and then tried not to moan when I slid off your chest.”

  Tiffany was stunned. She managed to catch herself, but not before a physical array of tells flashed for him to see. Her face dropped, her muzzle hung open for a few seconds before snapping shut, and the crimson fur on her cheeks flashed whitish-pink before returning to its normal color. Then, her expression went blank, attempting to play off the moment as if nothing had happened.

  Her eyes squinted shut briefly. Great… So he did notice. So much for trying to be professional. Now he’s probably going to think I’m some kind of freak or monster.

  She paused in thought, opening her eyes and looking at her elongated fingers, watching her claws sheath and unsheath as she flexed them. Part of her wanted to wallow in pity and curl up in a ball. Then, without moving, she glanced at him before looking away, facing the other direction.

  I guess even if this didn’t happen, compared to most—especially to him—I am a monster.

  Her ears twitched sporadically, while her tail swept across the hard clay in a slow, drooping arc.

  Well, what’s done is done. Self-pity and personal reflection will have to wait.

  She got a grip on her emotions, coming to terms with the situation—just as her stomach started to growl. She squinted in an unamused fashion.

  Ugh… Fine. Guess I’ll make the most of the situation, she grumbled to herself.

  “I wouldn’t say no to you buying me dinner, you jerk,” she grumbled, her tone a low, guttural growl as she pouted. He looked more surprised than irritated, so that was at least a step in the right direction.

  The he put his hand to his face, shaking his head for a moment before switching back to frustration. Well… so much for that step in the right direction, Tiff thought as her hand absentmindedly drifted down to her sore rear, massaging it.

  “Fine—now?” he huffed. He pulled out another cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag as he paced back and forth. She snapped out of her cloud of random thoughts, looking around, searching, double-checking.

  Her ears twitched, swiveling this way and that, moving spastically. Good, looks like everything’s clear… no unwanted company, she thought before turning to look down at him.

  “Yes, now,” she said with a nod, slightly smiling, her tail perked up and started sweeping back and forth in a slow raised arc. “Go gather your things, and I’ll meet you by your bike.”

  He nodded slowly, heading off to retrieve his discarded bag. As he walked, he glanced over his shoulder, watching her periodically. When he reached his bag, he noticed something wasn’t right. He paused, his gaze following her as she made her way toward the broken swing set.

  *Sigh… another mess I have to fix. Well, I guess it worked out fine. He didn’t get hurt, and I’m pretty sure I put on a good show,* she thought to herself.

  She picked up one half of the swing, slipping two of her elongated fingers into the steel pipe. Twisting them inside, she expanded the opening into a sleeve. Then, she grabbed the other half and slid it into the newly widened section, setting both halves down evenly.

  Stepping back a few paces, she tapped a claw to her muzzle, admiring her handiwork. Finally, she reached for the repaired section, grasping it and giving it a light squeeze to crimp the pieces together. The pressure left a slight imprint of her hand on the newly bonded steel pipe.

  Her gaze shifted toward the Nick. His eyes had grown wider than usual before gradually returning to normal as he shook his head from side to side, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just seen. A small smile crept across her face as a thought crossed her mind.

  Giving in to her mischievous side, she disappeared while he walked back towards his bike, moving at a speed he couldn't detect. She reappeared behind the tree closest to his bike, shifting back into her human form before he even got close, then waited patiently for him.

  As he got closer, she stepped out from behind the tree, adjusting her baggy clothes on her shortstack frame and flashing a beaming smile, catching the him off guard. He blinked rapidly, jabbing a finger toward her, then toward the newly repaired swing set—back to her, then once more to the swing set.

  “How’d you...?” he stammered, his voice starting to crackle. “How’d you get here so fast?! What ARE you?!?”

  Wow, yep... that was soooo worth the look on his face. *Sigh*... well, that brightened my evening, she thought, trying to stifle a giggle.

  She gave him a smug smile after staving off her giggle fit. “You fight an eight-and-a-half-foot-tall, red-haired, big-tittied wolf that can turn into a small girl, and what amazes you is that I beat your slow-moving self back to the bike? My, you really are a special case,” she grinned mockingly at him—good-humored, mind you.

  He shot her a sarcastic smile, flipping her off, which only fueled her amusement. So much so that she started snorting as she laughed, clutching her midsection, unable to contain herself.

  “Are you done? Sure you're not maybe a hyena instead of, well—whatever you are?” he asked, a little calmer now, like he was finally starting to relax.

  She wiped her nose on her shirt, still trying to get her laughter under control. Tiffany nodded, wiping her eyes and finally catching her breath.

  “Sorry, I needed a good laugh. Thanks. I mean it—the past week has been pretty rough, putting it mildly,” she told him, her tone soft and sincere.

  “So, I know it's late. How about Frank's? You go in, grab a few burgers—medium rare—” *To be Continued...*