Aldruin, Chapter IV: Foxes
Aldruin
Chapter IV: Foxes
By Kimono-Box-Fox
There are those who dedicate themselves to Good over Evil
And that is the first extreme of man; of the collective ideal.
There are also those who dedicate themselves to their way,
Over all others.
And that is the second extreme of man; his own.
...There are lastly, those, who dedicate themselves to Balance and equality, over all things, and of these we speak most directly.
For seeking Balance as an obtainable goal... that is the final and most grievous extreme of them all.
Council of Artificers, Apocrypha, 11:12
Dalnassir sat in his chambers; his red mantle draped over the back of his seat, his stark, shoulder length white hair hanging over the waters of the scrying pool as he finished reporting the prior day's findings to the Artificer's Council. His face showed a man of twenty years, but his words, and demeanor were that of an elderly man.
"Our adversary is a violent, angry, and active young woman who has only recently encroached on the cradle of divinity," Dalnassir continued. "This is not something to be taken lightly however, High Councilor; for the youngest gods are so often the most volatile; before they find their place of balance in the Multiverse. She will by no means rest on her laurels, your Eminence, and our Kingdom is the prize in her sight at this juncture," he concluded.
A gentle female elf's voice echoed from the ripples of the pool. "I believe it is important that you contact the priesthoods of Helm and Oghma regarding your findings, Dalnassir. Wise with age as we may be, we councilors do not play as direct a role in matters of the divine as perhaps we should have chosen. These events have troubled our King greatly, and we too fear for our people, against this cult; goddess or none. If that is all you have to report, Dalnassir, I will gladly share your words with King Altia, and inform him of your request."
"Thank you, Councilor." Dalnassir replied, with a tone of beneficence Gil had never heard him speak in to anyone she knew, including her Captain."
"No, thank 'you', Selem. Your efforts on unraveling this epidemic have spared us many unnecessary losses since we placed you in the Watch, and we only look forward to the resolution of this terrible cult activity. May the grace of the Council be with you, Councilor."
The High Councilor's image faded from the pool, and Dalnassir turned back to Gil, who was still in stocks, waiting impatiently in a corner of the room with her legs crossed, to be allowed to take a piss.
"Selem, Dalnassir?" Gil raised an eyebrow. It seemed she was finding ways to take the Councilor less seriously by the second, despite his triumphant efforts at fooling a god--only so many hours ago.
The elf grimaced, flicking open his palm, and a small bolt of electricity struck Gil, knocking her to the ground, and burning a finger-sized black mark in her right arm, which quickly began lightening, shedding burnt flesh, and returning to its normal, uninjured state. She turned away, indifferently, having had this take place only four times now this same morning.
"It is 'Councilor', and 'Councilor' only to you, Lieutenant, and you will mind yourself on what you do and do not overhear, even when I tolerate your being in my presence. I will make it clear as many times as it serves necessary to do so, until you learn to equate the alternative with agony. Do not think it otherwise." He said contemptuously.
Gil had already begun to appreciate what her newfound regenerative qualities enabled, for Dalnassir, and was beginning to regret not having taken the god's order's more seriously, and ripping out his throat, instead of dry humping him, the eve before. Still, Gil knew that the elf was somehow enabling her life to be easier, despite his ridiculous expectations, and tendency to turn any of myriad forms of pain or death into a six-week correspondence course. It made her feel better knowing that at least if she was still cursed, she could somehow come off in control of it, ready to tackle this cult and end this nonsense once and for all.
"You said that if we dispose of the god, her curse on me will fade on its own, right, Dalnas--OWW! GODDAMNIT!" she screamed.
A small sliver of ice, which cut cleanly through the lobe of her left ear, hung at a perfect parallel with the side of Gil's face, dripping blood. As she pulled away in frustration, her earlobe gradually reshaped itself, and the scab fell cleanly away.
"Will you stop doing that, please?! I understand I have greater limits than most people now, but that seriously still hur--" she gagged.
Dalnassir stepped in and grabbed her by the neck, thrusting the Lieutenant's head against the wall of his chamber, and hissing in her wounded ear.
"Listen very closely Gil, because I don't think you quite understand it at all, and I only intend to explain this fact 'once' more before I grow weary of your incessant barking and revert to punishing it with silent pain. You are not here to gain answers. You are here to learn how to take control of a very special ability, which allows you to become what others cannot become--without losing their feeble human minds. If you show me that you cannot master control, Gil I will assume that my ministrations have been in vain, and will send you back to your Captain--in-a-box. There is no compromise on that offer, Lieutenant. I told you that the day you woke up dead on my doorstep, begging for life and liberation from a god you had no intention of serving."
Gil cringed. He was still the same Dalnassir; speaking truth she did not wish to hear; and she was still Gil, walking headfirst into the same mistakes with him time after time. She was slowly learning that when Dalnassir said he was going to do something, he always meant it literally, even if it was a promise of mutilation. She was beginning to miss her squad Captain. She nodded tacitly, letting him know she had received his message; though she knew she still wouldn't like what he had in store. He let her go.
Maybe he's right then, maybe I'm just not listening to his fair warnings. She thought.
This shook Gil for a second. Was he getting into her head?! She felt sick. In this place, he really was God, even more than the voice that had been in her head. She dared to ask the next question, though; and if it ended with punishment, she would know not to speak again.
"Forgive me for my curiosity, 'sir', but I still don't understand quite what it was you 'did' for me. I'm still turning into an animal, and the only difference I've noticed so far is that your standard for punishing me has been allowed to increase," Gil tried to keep this as close to a straight statement as possible, without sounding like she was complaining.
The elf cursed under his breath once more, before sighing, and conceding that he had to give his pet some level of limited insight before she would be able to shut herself up.
"Very well then, Lieutenant; you may ask me questions directly related to your procedures. But you 'will' address me by position, and you will continue to regard the advice I have just given you before you ask me pointless questions. You may just save your lovely werefox teats by doing so." He raised a threatening finger, and looked away for a moment, as if contemplating whether to demonstrate this or not, and then made a signal for Gil to get up, apparently having decided against it."
"What I have done for you is both simple, and one of the greatest risks I have ever taken for anyone, let alone a human of so little consequence as yourself," the Councilor began.
"Gee thanks, Councilor, pat your self on the back a little--" Gil saw the Elf get ready to raise a hand to cast another spell at her, and clenched her arms to her breasts, shouting "Sir! I said, Sir!"
But this was apparently enough. The elf smiled; she was learning her place.
"Now, come with me; it is time for your lessons. I will explain your 'unique' situation while doing things productive to our cause; not standing around in the middle of my personal chambers--and Lieutenant?" the elf wound up that semi-sweet sarcasm Gil hated so much, and she glared furiously, knowing already what he would say next.
"Yes, 'Councilor'?"
"Clean up your mess... You filthy animal."
Gil had been crouched in a puddle of her own piss for five minutes now, since shortly after the lightning bolt hit her--her panties soaked through with urine. She growled, stepped to the side, and allowed Dalnassir to undo her stocks so she could clean up the mess with a rag he handed her.
"Good girl, Gil. You are a fast learner." The elf cooed insultingly.
Gil felt like she couldn't get away from this place too soon--before she really did turn into Dalnassir's pet. Or something worse.
* * *
Executor Larami yawned, her guard duties of late beginning to become a chore. She had patrolled the emperor's palace grounds only so many times in the past three months since word of the Thorn and Fang cult began to spread around Pandora, and she was getting sick of waiting for things to do. She tapped her scythe against the pillars on the garden balcony.
"Kill, kill, kill." She muttered, to no one in particular. "I remember what it was like to get to kill things. It was about twelve hours ago." She said, sarcastically. "I'm getting bored, Regbaltar. Find something for me to do soon, or I'll get really pissed and cut your men's legs off, and we'll all be covered in blood. Seriously, what an empire! Tch."
The gnome Two-Shoes crept up behind the woman antsily, one hesitant sideways footstep at a time, eying her for any sudden movements, as if approaching a very hungry animal. He pulled his visor up out of his eyes, and solicited the crazed Executor's attention with a bow.
"Ms... errm, Larami?"
The woman drummed her fingers, one hand on her scythe still, preoccupied. She did not respond to the gnome. This had better be good, she thought.
"Your report on the progress of our clandestine ops have arrived. Our agent has reported that there are no new findings from Altia's Watch regarding the Cult. The new councilor has been surprisingly tight-lipped with his own Captains."
The woman's head swiftly took a complete 180 degree turn on her neck, and she stared at the Gnome with contracted pupils, keeping that blissfully psychotic grin she always held on her face.
"Ah! AHH! But that's not all I have to say!" the balding gnome began waving his hands defensively in front of him. "That's not all! There have been some really big things happening in the Altian military right now, and I really think you should know about them before you decide what you're going to do with me!"
Without moving her torso an inch from her leaning position against the balcony railing, in what had to be an entirely impossible position for a live human being to be speaking face to face to someone standing directly behind them, let alone beneath them, the woman gritted out;
"The reason they call me an Executor, Riley, is because I 'execute' things. Now tell me you've found out something useful, or else I'll have to get some practice in. That 'clear' enough for 'ya?"
The gnome became even more panicked, beads of sweat rolling down his face. "Ahhh, yes, yes, thank you, thank you miss! Ack, hold on... here it is!" The gnome pulled out a small metal tablet with a screen of green electronic text and began reading it for the woman.
"According to our agent, a member of Captain Baldwin's squad from the city Watch's paramilitary unit was just committed under the Council's care for contracting the new strain--of lycanthropy." He continued fiddling frantically with the device, scrolling through text as if his life depended upon it, "There are no inside reports about her condition yet, but they seem to be keeping it really shut up among the Watch Battalions, and our agent thinks-- AIEYAAA!"
The gnome leaped aside as the woman's body reached for its scythe, swinging for Two-Shoes's legs, her head still facing backwards on her neck.
"Help! HELP! Wicked HELP! This witch is trying to kill me again!"
At first the gnome lay quivering in fear, his hands up to guard feebly against another of the woman's attacks. But the Executor was interrupted before she could have her longed-for gratification."
"I don't think you want to do that, Lady. Emperor Regbaltar wouldn't like you killing one of his most valuable Machine Artificers," a raspy voice from above intoned.
The Executor whipped her head back into its natural position and looked up, her vacant grin replaced with a toothy grimace. She lept back, and a glop of black muck descended from where she had been standing, before forming into a black-caped man with pale skin and long, raven-colored hair. Executor Wicked. He always gave her the creeps.
"What does it matter if some stupid guard officer in Altia's Watch got bitten up, Wicked? It's not the first idiot to get mauled by the Cult, tell me why I shouldn't splatter this worm's guts for wasting both our time?" she snarled.
The Executor didn't like vampires; they didn't die when they were supposed to, and talked too much for her tastes. He kept panting through that leather mask he was wearing, between speaking too, which was driving her nuts. Countless straps secured the thing over the lower half of his face, and Larami really didn't want to find out what he looked like underneath it, she just wanted him to piss off. Wicked was a freak, one of the Emperor's experiments; and Larami didn't like freaks much more than vampires. They didn't die easily enough for her tastes. He finally finished his panting spell, though, and continued reproaching her.
"The Emperor feels differently about that particular state of affairs, Lady. He wants us to investigate whether there's a means to steal back the divine spark we lost, as well as conquer Altia in the chaos those cultists have been cultivating. We already know the Goddess is misusing her powers, and if we can turn that on her before Altia can figure out how, we will have the upper hand in this chain of events."
"Kind of hard to appreciate a detail like that when I'm sitting here protecting the emperor from deadly were-pigeons in his private garden... outside his comfy little throne room... over-top his comfy little dragon's den." Larami grumbled.
"We don't know how many members the Goddess has gathered, or where, yet," the vampire panted, for a moment, made a chittering noise, and then continued.
"And our Emperor isn't invulnerable to the wrath of a deity, even if she is still wet behind the ears. He was the first person that Goddess set eyes on when she was born, and she doesn't seem the type to show our Emperor her gratitude for what he did to her, accident or not," the vampire reminded her, as if this was something they hadn't all had recounted to them a million times in briefing.
"Boring." She complained. Tell me when the carnage starts."
The vampire turned to the gnome, as if Larami wasn't even a threat, muttering to nobody in particular; "We can't act until we have more information, and rushing in now would just alert their Council to what our Emperor is planning."
Larami crossed her arms at this lecture. She had placed her scythe back in the clasp on her belt, but she rolled her eyes skeptically, as if she didn't buy Wicked's take on the matter for a second. She preferred to settle matters of subterfuge with severed necks, herself.
With a sloshing noise, the vampire slid closer to the gnome called Two-Shoes Riley, without moving his feet, leaning forward so that he was at eye level with the small humanoid. He then mumbled under his breath. "Just tell us what you know Two-Shoes, and I'll make sure this bitch doesn't get out of line and kill herself again."
"I heard that, you know." Larami replied. "Regbaltar likes me more than either of you, you know. I get my head chopped off doing his work without needing to be undead or a midget, and I still make my pay." She said, as if it was a mark of pride to lose your head, and being either undead or a midget allowed you to lose it any easier.
"You may rethink your hunger for suffering, Executor, when I have you all turned into a stone sculpture in my Hall for ruining my meditation." a voice growled tiredly from the double doors behind them.
All three of the misfits promptly stood at attention, hailing their Emperor as he levitated out from the foyer in his black robes, sitting in his throne and twisting his long white beard--sizing the three of them up like snacks.
"It has been a long morning. Tell me then what you have discovered, Artificer, and make it quick. Before I change my mind about having new additions added to my gallery."
Two-Shoes picked himself up, and regained his concentration, albeit he was nearly as pale as the second Executor now; who was himself, jiggling like gelatin. He got his voice back, and started from the beginning of his report, still sweating profusely despite his narrow escape from limb loss.
"Our agent inside the Watch reports that their King has sanctioned a new experiment, involving one Lieutenant Gil Alastor..."
But Larami toned it all out. It wasn't important to her until they got to the killing part of the report. Maybe this Lieutenant would actually be fun to kill. She couldn't care less at the moment.
"Just another boring day in the Empire," she shrugged.
* * *
Gil sweated, the heat from the dungeon seeming to be more intense than ever, despite her lack of clothing. She was in shackles again, and wondered how long this would keep up before she got to see the light of day and breathe fresh air once more.
"So explain this to me again, Dalnassir," she groaned, between exertions of his whip. You say the Goddesss is making unwilling followers, like me. But why should that matter?"
*SNAP*
She winced in pain, as Dalnassir struck the barbed whip against her flank for a third time, trying to elicit a reaction from her lycanthrope side. But the elf was not getting any results. Electrocution, thumbscrews, beatings; none of it worked. It was as if Gil had become an ordinary human in the interim between her last transformation and now, and had merely gained the added benefit of mild regeneration. He knew better, but it vexed him nonetheless that his efforts to make her change were being rebutted so consistently. She was truly a stubborn girl.
"Because, Gil," he sighed, as if repeating this for a tenth time, "a deity requires followers in order to be strong; especially a deity that has just emerged. If there is no one to believe in a deity, then they lose their power, and risk fading away entirely. It is the same as death; it is the death of a god," he remarked.
"So what you mean to say is that this Goddess is starving herself, because she doesn't get that she needs to make people believe?" she inquired.
*SNAP* Dalnassir's stroke drew a line of blood across her backside, but it was as effective as whipping a pool of water. Her skin simply--mended itself, the blood remaining, but leaving no wound with it. He had found that her array was not even harmed by damage to the parts of her skin it had been tattooed on. It returned with the rest of her flesh. While this was interesting, it was not, however, what the Councilor wanted to see. He continued.
"She believes that by inciting the transformation in others, she has gained companions, pack mates, a flock of followers loyal to her and her alone. But all she truly controls are humans, who are afraid, and under the influence of their awakened animal side. While she may control them, she does not inspire them, does not make them sing her praises. It drains her, makes her vulnerable to mortal magic, and blind to our actions. It is why she chose to create artifacts like the rods you have seen her true followers wielding. She may even now be realizing this shortcoming, and it is something that we cannot allow her to rectify."
"So you're saying you learned all this just yesterday? What did you do to me to find all of that out?" she wondered.
"The apparatus I attached to your neck allowed me to create a server, for your soul. A sort of miniature world, where I could participate in your thoughts, much as the Goddess was; only without her direct knowledge."
Dalnassir set down his whip, and turned to his two apprentices, whispering something to the mage, who Gil only assumed by now to be Malcolm. He nodded silently, and left the room alone.
The other, Oswald, began collecting up the sprawl of instruments the Councilor had utilized, for cleaning. Blood-stained blades, whips, and various other instruments, in addition to a few teeth and chopped fingertips (Gil had not been happy about having to grow those back) littered the once-clean tray. The apprentice walked from the room, carting the whole mess with him, and slammed the heavy oak door firmly behind him. Alone with Gil now, Dalnassir continued.
"I prepared a spell that would deafen you to the suggestion the deity was giving you; to serve her. I supplanted her suggestion with ones of my own, and prepared a special geas for you. Meanwhile, while you were keeping her distracted, I was gleaning her thoughts from the suggestions she made." My plan was that the Goddess would unintentionally seal my deal with you herself, insuring that she could not break it later with divine intervention.
She wondered just which of the deity's suggestions Dalnassir had 'supplanted', pondering whether it might have been her thoughts of sex with Nicholas.
"Sounds like a risky plan." she remarked.
"Very risky, Lieutenant. Had I guessed incorrectly about the Deity's state, she could easily have seen through my ruse, and you would even now be feasting on my bones...instead of giving me your little love dance."
"So what were the conditions of the Geas?" Gil asked quizzically, a blush still returning to her face every time he mentioned the end of their first session.
"That is my little secret, Gil. Needless to say, it involved keeping you sane, and in control of your present powers, so long as you are loyal to my commands. If you wish, I may break the Geas, and you can risk reclamation by the deity. I need not have you around; there are other candidates who would serve my purpose just as easily." He said in an even tone, as if even now contemplating new test subjects.
Gil took that as a message to shut up. She was learning the value of silence around the Councilor, and it was making her life easier than asking him questions at every turn, only to be rebutted with ice shards and bolts of electricity.
"Now, Gil, it is time we change tactics. It seems that neither pain nor rage will incite your transformations, so I will be forced to apply the sensation of lust, instead--much to my deep regret." The elf sighed, as if he didn't 'want' to do this, for a change.
"You're not going to make me hump you again, are you?!" Gil said incredulously.
"Don't be ridiculous, Lieutenant, as much as it fits your character, I have found a much more suitable partner for you." Dalnassir snorted.
"Malcolm, the demon, if you will." The lad stepped into the room, accompanied by another, who Gil could not quite make out behind her, chained chest-to-the-wall.
"I'm a Fox, elf! And a damn better demon than you could ever be! Don't belittle me!" The new voice spoke; another girl's; and it was clear she was no happier to be here than Gil. She wondered if Dalnassir kept all his guests like this. What was she doing here, was she supposed to be another prisoner to his tests?
Suddenly, however, the girl was putting her hands all over Gil's breasts, patting her down, and... 'sniffing' Gil thoroughly over, like a dog.
"I smell something...good!" The girl changed her tone suddenly, sounding very angry. "Dalnassir, the hell long have you been keeping her from me?!" The woman raked her sharp fingernails down Gil's shoulders, all the way to her rump, sizing her up as she gave the elf the Q & A."
"Why, Yuriko. I have no idea what you are babbling about." Dalnassir said, reverting to his faux-innocent tone. "This girl just came into my workshop yesterday. She seems to be having trouble taking on her more... vulpine aspect."
"Why is she here, Dalnassir?" Gil interrupted. "What are you planning now?!" but it was the girl who ended up answering this question, with a kiss to the side of Gil's face.
"You... smell like *sniff*... a fox." The girl said. "And I like your soul too. It's a nice, rebellious, wild one, like mine. Or rather, when I had a soul, it was like mine."
Dalnassir smirked, as Gil twisted her head to look at him, a horrified blush on her face. The elf chimed in.
"My dear Lieutenant, you have been a good girl, admittedly, and endured all manner of torture I could conjure up to this point. But now... it is time for you to 'change'--as I expected you to from the start of today's lesson. Since I cannot get you to change by removing pieces of you, and you seem to be coping with my... chilly demeanor, I thought I would enlist the help of an old... 'acquaintance'. Fret not, I think you will make good companions, Gil. You may even find a replacement for that dead... 'boyfriend' you feel so strongly about. Now, I have other matters I must attend to. Have fun, you 'lucky' couple!"
The elf simply waved a fingered hand snidely with a sinister smirk on his face, and walked off with his apprentices, shutting the two in alone. The woman immediately pressed the side of her face to the back of Gil's neck and began rubbing against her, whispering in her ear.
"W-what are you going to do to me?" Gil quivered. This woman was making Gil eager for Dalnassir's presence again, somehow. She was 'licking'... the back of Gil's neck.
"You've never been with another woman, before... have you, sugar?"
"Been with?!" She broke into a sweat.
"Yes! Do you know what that filthy elf's taste in women is?"
There was a sound of something moving swiftly through the air as a sudden wind stirred in the dungeon, and Gil turned her head to get a look at the woman. But she had gone. It didn't take her but a second, however, to find out where she had gone. She was pinned between Gil and the wall, holding tight around her chest and pulling Gil in. The chains her arms were held by rattled softly.
"He likes things he can tame. I'm not one of them, despite his opinion on the matter. I just thought I'd help him out a little, seeing how much I hate being alone. And I can empathize; you seem very... 'alone' right now. Hehehe...!" she chuckled, wickedly, bouncing a bit.
For the first time, Gil could get a good look at the woman. She had long, mouse brown hair, blood red eyes, and had on a thick, ornate robe or gown of some sort, that reached to her ankles. It was peacock blue, and covered in gold gilding. But what stood out most of all were her ears.
They were not human ears, but rose above her head, big, open, with black triangular tips, and brown bells full of crème-colored fur. Even as Gil took notice of them twitching, the woman was looking her over passionately, fangs glistening in her mouth.
"You need someone a little younger, I see." She said.
Gil felt the woman's body shift, even as she held her. Her voluptuous breasts shrank a bit, giving Gil a bit more room to breathe, and Gil could see her face soften and change to match a girl her age.
"That's better now, right? You'd feel more comfortable with someone who looked like they'd seen as much action as you, right? Do you want me to become someone else? No?"
Gil trembled. What was this feeling?
"What 'are' you?!" she whispered, awestruck.
The woman, or rather, girl now, placed her lips on Gil's cheek, and gave her another quick kiss, before disappearing straight into the floor, clothes and all, and swooping around to her backside again.
"I'm a fox! Just like you are...Beautiful. What's your name! Ooh! Tell me, tell me!"
She cringed... "G-Gil...?" she groaned, as if she wasn't sure anymore that she had a name, or a right to use one.
"Gil!" she said, in an 'of course' tone, as if the girl had known all along, and had simply forgotten. "Gil, I have something special I want to tell you..."
If Gil had thought Dalnassir's plan had been to sweat out her transformation, he would have long since given up by now; Gil was already perspiring like a faucet. This was not going to end... well.
"I love you, Gil." The fox girl said, stroking her fingers through her hair. "And I want you to come home with me, and forget about this nasty elf. He's boring, and I don't like his taste in women. And you know? I'll let you in on a little secret, and maybe help you figure out your changes for him, so he'll leave you alone. Hmm?"
"I... I... I..." Gil was trembling.
"Oops, here we go, Gil!" the fox girl squealed, slipping through the floor and dragging Gil with her in a backwards embrace, straight through her shackles.
Gil's world went dark as she saw the stone floor close in around her head.
* * *
When she came to, Gil was sitting in some manner of house. Moonlight filtered welcomingly through paper-screen windows, and the young Lieutenant found herself sitting on a cushion, still naked, on a mat-covered floor. Directly across from her, only inches away, sat the girl. Gil took a few breaths of fresh air, trying not to hyperventilate.
"So, let me tell you, Gil. Do you know why Dalnassir put the two of us together like this?" she paused, then continued giddily, not really asking Gil, who was completely red by this point. "Hmm... let's see... Oh! It is because we are both shape-changers! You are a fox with a girl's soul..."
She paused, placing a hand on Gil's chest and building tension, bouncing up and down slightly, as if the next part was the best part.
"And I am a fox with a girl's body! Yay!--(Sounds pretty fun, right?)" she whispered devilishly under her breath, suddenly hugging Gil side by side, with one hand to her ear.
"I... I am a fox... with..." Gil's hazel eyes contracted.
What is this feeling?! I can't... be... liking this girl-- can I?
...
There was a pregnant pause, in which Gil sat there, her hands in her lap, her heart beating, flushed throughout.
"I'm... I'm a fox?" Gil asked.
"Do you want to see, Gil? What it can be like, to be a fox with a girl's soul?" the girl asked. "I can't be a fox with a girl's soul Gil, because I gave mine up a long time ago. But I can be a fox with a girl's body... or I can just be a fox, if you prefer! Here, I'll show you. Changing is fun!"
The girl got on all fours in front of Gil, and grinned, fangs glistening. A thick, bushy brown tail with a crème colored tip ripped through her robe, and fur spread up and down her hands and feet. The nails she had had before, which were already sharpened to points, thickened and turned black becoming true claws. Small whiskers formed on her cheeks and from her eyebrows. She sat, sighed in relief, and began taking off her robe, under which she was nude.
"It kind of hurts to hold even that much in, you know. I like playing, but having to act like a pure-blooded human for hours on end really gets exhausting. You know, a lot of men fall into my clutches, Gil, but I don't date any of them for personal reasons. They're food... Not like you." She implied, wrapping fur covered arms around Gil's waist, and sitting in her lap. Gil was beginning to notice an odor in the air, coming from the girl. It wasn't... unpleasant, but it wasn't a nice smell, either. It was making Gil...
"Horny." Yuriko intoned, as if reading Gil's thoughts. "You little pervert, you're a human girl with a thing for foxes! What would your mother say?" she bounced in her lap, breasts jiggling against breasts.
"Oh, oh, I know what she would say. I know what she would say." The girl made a funny expression, and her voice sounded different; weepy and pathetic, but a surprisingly good imitation of Gil's actual mother's.
"Oh, Gil, I thought we raised you better. I'm so disappointed, Gil. Oh whoa, whoa is me. I'm forty-nine and in menopause, and I can't decide my daughter's own sexual preferences for her. I think I'll go bury myself. O-wah, o-wah!" the girl rubbed her eyes, faking tears.
Gil, astonishingly, laughed at this. It was true... that would be her mother. She looked the fox girl over, once again, new thoughts rushing into her head that had not occurred to her when she was with Dalnassir back in the dungeons.
"What do you... really want... Yuh-yu.." she fooled with the girl's name, tentatively, the fox still having her tongue caught.
"Yuriko... or you can just call me 'Yuri'... if you like?" the fox girl said, more sincerely now.
"Yuri." Gil's heart had steadied a bit, although she was still flush from head to toe, and stinking with sweat and the odor of her would-be-lover. She put one arm to the girl's shoulder and steadied herself with the other.
"Well, Gil, I want a lot of things from life, but right now, I'd settle for a nice evening with you, alone. Have you ever had sex before, Gil?"
She had not, truthfully, if masturbation did not count. Nicholas had only been her first love, back when she had first come on the force as a private; and they had never had the chance to spend the night alone, in those crowded, city barracks.
"You... you want..." Gil blushed.
"Mmhmm. See, I like you Gil. You remind me of what I was like, before I became a fox." The girl seemed almost innocent now.
"That elf wants to break you, doesn't he? Why let him?" the girl asked, brushing her curled tail against Gil's ass.
"Because... because..."
"Because he told you it was the only option. But he lied, Gil. He made a terrible, terrible lie. He's very good at those, Dalnassir. It's how he captured me, Gil."
"Captured?" Gil was enthralled, wrapping her other arm around the girl, her heartbeat rising again. She did not notice her nails were changing, darkening, becoming claws like the other girl's, or that her eyes had yellowed, and were contracting into slits.
"Yes. I was a caged fox for many years because of that Dalnassir. Back when he was more open about being a 'pervert'." She spat this, as if it was different from how she'd called Gil a pervert. As if there was a different, good way of using the word Gil didn't know.
"So he used you?"
"He uses everything at his disposal, Gil. That is how he is successful. Dalnassir is a very ancient elf, despite his... 'boyish' charms, and he has learned that anything can be manipulated, with the right approach. But he is wrong, Gil. He has not broken me, has not shaped me as he thinks, to his will. And now, he has let his guard slip. I have taken you home with me Gil, and I have an offer for you."
So she had a new ally against the elf. She had almost forgotten her memories of Captain Van, and the plan to leave the kingdom under his orders and escape Dalnassir's manipulations. Trapped in Dalnassir's dark world of torture and servility, he had become her god--all in the short span of two days. Now she was not alone again, and her will began to return to her. Her desire to escape and avenge Nicholas had been rekindled.
"Tell me, Yuri. What's your offer?" Gil asked, now seriously willing to listen.
"Sleep with me, Gil. Become a fox. Maybe not in soul, but at least in body. Then I will teach you how to become a fox at will, and with luck, you can escape Dalnassir's clutches."
Gil thought about it for nearly half a minute, her heart racing, as her ears began to triangulate and lengthen.
"Yes." She said.
End of Chapter IV