The Rebellious Teen

S.M. Wolf

Preface

This is a story written for a purpose. It was written in response to several things I have seen on SoFurry and elsewhere in furry fandom over the years that have disturbed me.

I have never supported cub sex and depictions of cubs in adult, often pornographic manners. If we accept the premise that we are depicting ourselves through anthropomorphic characters, then cub pornography is the moral equivalent of child pornography. For that reason, I try hard to avoid it. However, every so often, I come across it unintentionally.

Spankatorium by Kkatman is one such case.

I like Kkatman, I have talked with her in the past, and I enjoy much of her artwork. For that reason, when I saw that the story was on SoFurry and had over 5,000 reads and 37 Faves, I decided to read it.

It was a very bad mistake. I barely got a quarter of the way through it before I closed the tab in complete disgust. The story depicts the brutal torture of a seventeen-year-old vixen. Among the various depictions are the whipping of the vixen's breast with a cable. I did a quick check of the ending to see if there was anything redeeming that occurs. The vixen's brother who ordered the beating and her younger sister were quite happy with the results and planning to bring her back for more torture as soon as possible.

No redemption or change of heart there.

The story is clearly designed to arouse the prurient interests of the reader through the torture of an underage teen. There is no glossing over of what occurs or an attempt to provide any redeeming value to the abuse that she undergoes. In my case, it just disgusted me.

The incident did have one side effect. I realized that silence was acceptance, and I do not accept this any more. Let me say this in no uncertain terms.

The torture of underage cubs for sexual gratification is wrong.

Be it artwork or stories or other media, I will not budge on this point. This is a very conscious moral choice and statement. You can try to argue that I am wrong. However, I suggest you consider well what you are not only condoning but also advocating and supporting when you do so.

From there I decided to turn my views into concrete action. This story is the result.

I wish to make one thing perfectly clear. _This is not a sequel to Kkatman's Spankatorium _. I did ask to do one, but she denied me permission to use her characters and settings. I understand her reasons, I actually support her right to control her works, and I did not contest her decision. However, I did tell her I was still going to write this story. She thought it was a mistake to do so, but I obviously disagree with her vehemently on that point

This story does contain similar elements to Kkatman's story. These are elements common to the genre and are not unique to Kkatman's work as far as I can tell. She even states in the preface of her story that she borrowed heavily from "Timmy's Unpleasant Encounter of the Mechanical Kind" by Nialos Leaning. I can also trace these elements back to at least Victorian erotica when spanking stories were common and often involved underage women. For this reason, and because I want to make a clear response to her and similar stories, I do not feel that I am plagiarizing her work. I will review any instances where a reader feels that I have taken an element unique to Kkatman's story.

So here is my story. It depicts what happens when a seventeen-year-old armadillo is taken to a private facility to be punished. It contains some very graphic depictions of teen torture. I feel almost hypocritical writing those, but I needed to clearly show what happened so that the reader can (hopefully) understand why my heroine does what she does. It is also a sample of the stories and artwork that brought about this story.

If you wish to skip the torture, you can jump using your browser's find function to: Mattie's respite was short-lived. The cleaning furs left, and it was her turn. I think you may find yourself seriously lost, though.

I expect this to be a controversial story or at least a controversial stand. I expect to get mad comments, hate mail, flames, etc. I expect to lose Watchers. However, some things are more important than popularity. This stand against cub torture for sexual pleasure is one of them. If you wish to leave a negative comment, go ahead, but keep it clean. I will not delete it unless it is profane nor will I block you unless you get excessive and personal in your attacks. If you want to PM me with a flame, go ahead, but do not be surprised if I do not respond and block you if you try to fill up my mailbox.

Finally, I want to acknowledge my heavy use of The Victorian Imagination - A Sampler (R.Manton, Ed., Grove Press, New York, NY USA, 1984). The book is available on Amazon.Com for those interested in reading it. It is an interesting insight into Victorian England sexual mores that still permeate America today. I strongly recommend the book.

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Matilda "Mattie" Villosus, Bobby Clepti, Dena Latrans, David Caggottis, Zeke, Brenda, Rush Rattus, William "Bill" Jackson, Mrs. Justine, Police Commissioner Richard Lawson, other miscellaneous characters and this story are copyrighted 2011 by S.M. Wolf. They may not be reproduced in part or in whole or used in other works without the prior written permission of the author. The various Victorian Era books and characters referenced herein are taken from the works referenced in the scholarly work The Victorian Imagination. They are believed to no longer be copyrighted and are used without prior permission.

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Matilda "Mattie" Villosus stared angrily at the young female ferret at the reception desk.

"Matilda Villosus, report to the Punishment Room One entrance immediately," the white-uniform-clad Mustelidae repeated.

"Time to get this show on the road!" Bobby Clepti said almost jovially to his niece.

"I hate you!" the seventeen year-old armadillo hissed at her coyote uncle.

"Now! Now! It's an attitude like that, which made me bring you here. If you keep it up, I'm gonna have to keep bringin' you back until your 'attitude' improves."

"Here" was the Delinquent Cubs Correctional Facility or, as it was more popularly known, the DCCF. The DCCF was a private, not-necessarily-for-profit company recently chartered and established in her state. They offered an alternative for local, county and state governments strapped for cash. Governments could now send tween and teenage cubs to the DCCF and avoid juvenile court and jails. The DCCF facilities would administer quick, effective punishments authorized by the legal guardians or Cub Services for minor cases leaving the government to deal with only the truly serious offenders.

Legal guardians such as step- and foster-parents could also utilize the services of the DCCF for "incorrigible" cubs. Mattie's uncle and legal guardian was using their service today. He had sworn out a statement that Mattie was acting in a hostile and rebellious manner. He had asked that she be suitably chastised by the DCCF to correct her behavior. It was a standard complaint, and the DCCF summarily accepted it as it did essentially all complaints accompanied by their fee regardless of their validity.

"We both know why I'm here!" Mattie hissed at him as she stood. She glared at him a moment, turned to her left and walked across the reception area and into the bowels of the DCCF facility. As she had been told when they checked in, if Mattie did not accept her punishment and follow orders, the police would not only enforce her punishment but could arrest her. The arrest would lead to more severe punishments and perhaps even juvenile prison. The young armadillo and the other teens with her had few realistic options except to comply no matter how angry it made her.

There were ten Punishment Rooms - seven for girls and three for boys. She found the entrance to Punishment Room One and entered. She was the last one in. The other teenage femfurs were between twelve-years-old and just short of eighteen-year-old. Their moods ranged from resigned to petulant to distraught at the thought of what was to happen to them shortly.

A male bear in a security uniform was there as well. He closed and locked the door behind Mattie.

Turning to the teenagers, he told them, "Look above the doors at the display to find your position. Move to stand in front of your door facing me. The color of the background tells you what your level of punishment will be.

"Don't talk, and follow orders when I give them, or I can increase your level and add some 'goodies' that you are not going to like."

Mattie looked up at the displays. She found her name above the third door. It was displayed against a yellow background. She had drawn a medium-level Yellow punishment, the most common type.

The guard was speaking again.

"If your name flashes, it means that you have special conditions or 'specifications' attached to your punishment by your guardian. Remain outside your cubicle while I load the rest without specifications.

"Once inside your cubicles, stand facing forward with your arms at your sides. Remain stationary and do not attempt to cover your bodies with paws, arms, or tails. Doing so will result in your punishment automatically being increased by one level and you being suitably bound to prevent you from continuing your misbehavior.

"Blue group, enter your cubicles."

Mattie had heard a lot about the DCCF and its punishments from the other students at school who had been taken here for punishment. Blue was the lowest level of punishment and normally reserved for pre-pubescent children. It typically involved nothing more than a public paddling with a light wooden paddle. The recipient of the punishment retained all of their clothes.

The guard pushed some buttons and two doors opened by lifting straight up. Mattie saw a twelve-year-old coyote fem enter the first cubicle. She looked scared but did not resist. The armadillo femfur did not see the other victim, but likely, it was another twelve- or perhaps thirteen-year-old female.

"Green group, remove your clothes from the waist down and put them in the basket beside the door. They will be returned to you when you are released after your punishment."

Green was the second level. The femfurs being punished would receive a bare bottom punishment with a birch rod or a belt. They may or may not be sentence to be secured in a bent over position, but Mattie knew from the stories that the guards always seemed to find a reason to bind them.

Three of the femfurs removed their jeans or dresses along with their socks and shoes. Two removed their panties as well, but the third, a squirrel lass, paused and asked the guard, "Can't I keep my panties? They won't protect me much, and-"

"Specification added for failure to obey a direct order," the guard said. Mattie could not help but notice that he was grinning as he said it. His voice had a pleased note as well. He obviously enjoyed giving out the additional punishment.

"Wha-"

"Do you want to drop those panties, or do you want me to raise your level?" the bear growled.

The squirrel femfur looked distressed, but she did pull down her panties quickly. She obviously did not want a Yellow Level punishment. She started to get into her cabinet, but the guard stopped her.

"You have a specification now. Wait outside the door facing it. Lean forward and grab the bars on either side of the doorway."

The squirrel girl did as ordered though she kept looking back at the guard in fear. The other two girls went into their cubicles, and the doors closed behind them.

The guard went to a medical tray and selected a small syringe. He walked over to the squirrel and jabbed the needle into her ass.

"OW!"

"Keep still or I'll give you a second dose," the guard growled as he finished injecting the young femfur.

"What the heck was that?" the squirrel asked as she stood and rubbed her bottom.

"Oh, just a little drug to make you more sensitive to pain for the next few hours. It will make your punishment hurt twice as much without requiring us to do any more damage to you."

The girl yipped in shock at the prospect of greater pain. The guard laughed deep in his throat as he pushed her through the door and shut it behind her.

"Yellows, you're up next. Strip down and get ready for a shot. If you have specifications, we have something extra for you. So, if your name is flashing, wait after you get the shot until I let you go.

"Now take off your clothes, lean forward, and grab the handles!" the bear guard commanded the waiting teenage femfurs.

Mattie glared at the guard, but when her door opened, she removed her clothing as ordered. She was mad and upset at herself, but she did not want an even worse punishment. If nothing else, she would not give her uncle that particular bit of enjoyment today.

Yellow meant that Mattie would be fully naked, restrained and beaten with a cane, switch, or crop. The strokes could be given to her buttocks, back or breasts. It was the most a first time offender could be given by her guardian, and her uncle had gleefully selected it for her punishment.

Mattie's name started flashing.

Crap, Mattie thought to herself. I've got specifications. I wonder what that bastard has added?

Mattie might be a first time visitor to the DCCF, but she was much more aware of what happened inside than most furs. When she had moved in with her uncle, she had started attending Central High School. There she had met her new best friend, Dena Latrans. Like Mattie, the seventeen-year-old petite coyote was an orphan. She was in foster care with a pair of middle-aged coyotes taking care of her for the county.

Two months ago, Dena had been brought to this same facility for punishment for the first time. She had returned to school a broken shadow of herself four days later. Since then her male guardian had frequently sentenced her to punishments for any minor infraction. She had received not only Yellow but the higher-level Orange and Red punishments as well.

A "specification" could be just about anything. Most of the time it was like the little something extra added on to the squirrel's Green punishment. Drugs to enhance the punishment in some manner were common. Dena had been given drugs to force her breasts to swell with milk. The unnatural swelling ranged from uncomfortable to outright painful. Her taut skin added to the pain during her breast beatings. They had also used forced lactation and a milker on the young coyote after her beating to further humiliate the teen. There were plenty of other devices and forms of humiliation that could be added as well. Mattie hoped that she did not get some of the worst about which she had heard from the other teens she knew.

At Yellow level all of the femfurs were going to receive a shot to keep them out of shock and to prevent them from passing out from the pain of their punishment. The DCCF did not want any of the "delinquents" unable to feel their pain because they were unconscious or require an ambulance ride to the hospital.

Mattie and the others submissively removed their clothing. None of them wanted more added to their punishments. Mattie was not happy about losing her clothes, but there was little she could do about it. When the doors opened, she bent forward and grabbed the bars on either side of doorway. The guard started at the other end of the line and worked towards Mattie. All of the femfurs were pubescent and most were reasonably good-looking. Mattie's eyes narrowed as she saw the guard fondle their butts before giving them their shot. The guard gave those without specifications a slap on the ass to get them moving into the cubicles. Mattie noted his growing grin as he moved down the line towards her.

Mattie was the last of the Yellows. The guard looked at her behind, and she smiled sweetly at him

As a nine-banded armadillo, Mattie had natural armor covering her backside from her shoulders to the base of her tail. There it split in two and continued down over her buttocks. It might not be overly pretty, but it was very effective natural protection. The little needle in the guard's paw was going to be no match for it.

"Damn! I'm going to have to get a bigger needle!" the guard said.

Mattie was a bit unnerved by his large grin. He seemed to actually like not being able to give her the shot. That did not bode well for her.

The bear went to the communication panel and ordered "several Number 10 needles". Mattie was sure that it was going to be outrageously long to get past her natural armor.

The rest of the Yellows that had specifications were finished next. Most got pain enhancement shots. A couple had some liquid or paste put into their vagina or anus. Whatever went in could not be pleasant. All of the girls that got them were dancing about as they stepped into their cubicles.

Mattie was glad that the pastes and liquids were not to be her fate today. She would have to ask Dena what those things were when she saw her again. The coyote had never mentioned this particular unpleasantness. They might be something new. The armadillo guessed that they were some sort of warming gels or worse. She could imagine what it would be like to have an entire tube of Ben-Gay emptied deep in her vagina.

As she waited for the larger needles to arrive, Mattie watched the guard load the last victim of the morning. She was a small, almost emaciated mouse who had to weigh less than seventy pounds. She was to receive an Orange level punishment. She was going to be given a major punishment involving a cat o' nine tails, tawse, heavy slapper and similar instruments of punishment. She would also receive a cocktail of drugs to "enhance" her punishment and minimize bleeding and other problems. She would be bound in such a way as to enhance her punishment and pain. Her ordeal would last at least a half-hour and likely much longer.

The guard took his sweet time injecting the mouse with four shots in the rump. The bear ran his paws over the teen's body as well. A bulge had appeared in the crotch of the guard's uniform when the femfurs started stripping down. Now that he had free rein to play with the young mouse, it grew highly pronounced to Mattie's disgust

The diminutive rodent apparently knew what was coming because she was already crying and begging for the guard to let her go even as she cooperated. She also made no move to stop the guard's paws or cry out for help. Dena had been through the same horrible punishments and even worse. She had learned to cooperate to avoid the dreaded Red Level.

The Red Level was by far the worst. It was a "full penal punishment", which basically meant anything went. The DCCF seemed to have the world's worst sadists developing extreme chastisements for this level. The best that could be hoped for was drugs for forced lactation, pain enhancement, shock prevention and injury minimization followed by a prison flogging with a bullwhip or worse. The victim was always bound in an extremely painful manner such as bent over backwards or in a full hog-tie. They were most often suspended so that their own weight worked against them for the hour plus of punishment that they endured. Sometimes the punishments took a more explicitly sexual turn. Dena had been impaled upon a dildo shaped stake for one of her punishments.

Mattie only knew about it from Dena. The young coyote had received her first Red after being tardy and uncooperative during her first punishment. The brutality of the abuse combined with her foster father's gleeful acceptance and obvious desire to repeat it were what ultimately had broken the young coyote femfur.

Mattie watched the guard's paw disappear under the mouse's tail. The mouse fem yelped and cried even harder. Mattie growled deep in her throat. There was little doubt that the bear was fingering the young girl and maybe even buggering her with his fingers.

The bear heard Mattie's growl. He turned his head towards her and yelled, "Punishment level increased for you!" However, he did at least stop abusing the mouse. Unfortunately, he turned his attention to Mattie after giving the mouse a slap on the ass to get her moving into her cubicle.

The needles that the guard had ordered arrived via a pneumatic tube. The guard changed out the shorter needles on the syringes. Mattie was getting both the drug to enhance pain and the drug to make sure she did not pass out. The guard guided the long but thankfully thin needles past her armor and shot her on the inner buttocks near her anus. She almost yelped from the pain, but she steeled her resolve. She would not give him the satisfaction of showing weakness by crying out or, worse, breaking down in tears as the mouse had.

"Your guardian has another one for you, one to get you lactating so those big breasts of yours get even bigger and take the punishment even better!" the bear gleefully said. Mattie felt a third, more painful jab that went deep into her buttock.

"In with you now!" the guard said as he gave her a swift kick in the ass.

Mattie was propelled forward into the cubicle, and the door closed behind her.

The Punishment Room was about thirty feet wide at her end. The room width flared out quickly to nearly seventy feet wide in the middle and at the far end. Overall, the room was about ninety feet long.

The room was also quite tall. The ceiling had to be at least twenty feet high.

At the end where Mattie was standing, there were ten cubicles containing the cubs to be punished that session. Each three-foot square cubicle had three glass sides to display the victims. Lights in the ceiling and floor of the cubicles illuminated the victims for all to see.

At the far end of the room was the viewing gallery. The gallery had stadium seating arranged in three sections ten seats wide and fifteen rows deep. The DCCF made some money by charging the families of the children being punished for their services, but rumor had it that most of the profits came from the tickets bought be "upstanding citizens" who came to view the punishments as supposed "duly-sworn witnesses" to the proceedings. They packed the seats every session, day in and day out.

The reason for the packed houses was at the center of the room.

In front of the cubicles was a narrow walkway that led to a catwalk. At the end of the catwalk near the paying customers was a raised dais. It was empty now, but here were a multitude of things hidden in the basement below, which would rise up on hydraulic lifts. Those things would be used in the creative chastisements of the juveniles brought to the facility for castigation.

Mattie glanced up. In the gloom of the black ceiling, she could not see them, but she knew that there were trapdoors in the ceiling that allowed more things for the punishment of child delinquents to descend to the stage area. Dena had talked about the manacles, cuffs, robotic arms with various attachments and more that were hidden high above the dais.

Dena had so many horror stories that Mattie could not help but look at the small raised stage and feel a sudden twinge of fright. It only added to her banked anger as she fought her fear down. Regardless of what happened here today, she was going to be strong!

Mattie stood as ordered and looked out at the room. Soon the doors opened, and the seats rapidly filled with furs. They brought in drinks and food as if they were going to a movie or perhaps a sporting event. To them, this was a great time, a perfect way to spend a summer morning in the big city. The pain of the young furs did not matter so long as they were entertained. Indeed, it was at least half the reason that they were here.

The exhilaration of the crowd reminded Mattie of her history lessons. Roman and other governments had publicly punished their criminals for the enjoyment of the populace. Some civilizations had even turned public torture and killing into a spectator sport. The Witch Craze and even the hangings of the Old West were just more modern examples of what the Romans and other ancient civilizations did. That she and the other femfurs would be beaten and even outright tortured here today for the enjoyment of these furs showed how thin the veneer of civilization truly was. The only advancement society had apparently made was that now private corporations profited from the events.

Mattie had little doubt about the motives of the furs that filled the seats. Dena had plenty of stories about them and what they would do as well. They were sadists, and many if not most were pedophiles as well. Looking at the furs gathering to watch her pain, Mattie felt sorry for Dena. The young coyote had been forced to endure all of this so many times. Matte was not sure she would have been able to do the same. For now, she waited and watched the growing crowd.

The armadillo femfur snarled when she saw her uncle and two of his friends take their seats. She could see him pointing at her and joking with his buddies. He must have seen her watching him, because he cupped his paws in front of his chest and jiggled them up and down as if he was playing with her boobs. It was clear that he knew about the specification for the lactation drug and what it would do to her. His actions and her disgust brought a laugh from his companions. They watched her and the other cubs intently as she waited for her punishment to begin.

The doors always opened a full hour before the punishments started. Supposedly, that was to allow enough opportunity to get to the seats, but the reality was it was meant to allow the customers to ogle the naked teenagers that would be punished. Shortly after the seats began to fill, Mattie felt the floor beneath her give a small jerk and then start to revolve slowly. The same occurred for the other nine femfurs awaiting punishment. None dared to protest as their bodies were put on lewd display.

As she rotated on her turntable, Mattie saw that the back of each cubicle was a mirrored surface. After a minute, she found her nude reflection staring back at her as her backside was presented to the watching audience. A minute later, she was staring back out at the crowd. This repeated several times. Each time Mattie saw her uncle, his friends and the rest of the crowd pointing at the young femfurs. They were laughing and having a great time at the expense of the fearful cubs.

There must be some sort of display above us, Mattie thought as she saw many of the furs looking there as well. It must be displaying the details of our punishments. Or maybe it's just showing close-ups of our privates. I'm sure that these creeps would love to see a thirty-foot-wide version of my twat!

Part of the punishments that the teens received was not knowing exactly how many strokes they would receive, where they would be delivered, or with exactly what. The dread of the anticipation of the beating was an added element to the punishments. It could be the worst part for the later victims who had to watch those who preceded their discipline. They had to watch as up to nine femfurs were tortured while knowing that they would eventually suffer a similar fate. Mattie could understand the dread of the mouse standing in the tenth and final cubicle.

For a Yellow level punishment, Mattie could receive anywhere from ten to one hundred strokes depending on what her uncle had ordered.

Shit! Mattie suddenly thought. I got upgraded to Orange Level! That adds another fifty strokes at least. And they are going to use something even more painful as well! They'll probably do my tits instead of my back or ass too.

Mattie had been a bit scared and very upset though resigned to what was to come. Now the anger that had been just below the surface of her thoughts broke through and grew.

How the hell can they do this to me! It's all Uncle Bob's fault. Him and his policefur friend. I did NOT file a false police report! He should be in jail, and I should be at home!

Fifteen minutes after she received her shots, Mattie felt something strange. Her chest felt like it was too tight. She looked down at her 34C breasts and wondered what was happening.

Damn! I forgot that they gave me lactation drugs. Dena told me about them. They'll force my breasts to fill for four hours. She always goes up two cup sizes. She says they feel really heavy and hurt even before they start the beatings.

I'm really going to hurt if I've got DDs and they beat on them!

With every turn of the table, Mattie could see her breasts growing quickly in her reflection. Her anger grew even faster as her breasts filled with milk. Her lips became thin lines as she clenched her jaw in growing anger. After fifty minutes, her breast had grown to be DDD cups. She guessed her bust size was over forty inches. It felt like it was approaching fifty as her teats quickly filled with copious amounts of milk.

During the display time, two of the teenfurs tried to cover themselves. The crowd hooted as each was pulled from their little glass cubicle, bound, and returned to their confinement. A Green became a Yellow, and a Yellow became an Orange. The crowd was particularly appreciative of the latter since it involved a rather busty skunkette. They wanted to see her suffer for their amusement.

After an hour, the house lights dimmed, and the three sets of double doors at the far end of the Punishment Room automatically closed. The punishments were about to begin. The crowd fell silent in anticipation.

"Delinquent Number One, ascend to the dais for punishment. You have thirty seconds to be in place," a detached, mechanical voice said.

One of the ways that DCCF had managed to get their license and the state's business was to administer the chastisements using mechanical, computer-controlled devices. It was meant to ensure fair, uniform discipline devoid of the overt sexual overtones associated with the public beating of a naked fur. Even the most law-and-order, by-the-rules furs had experienced second thoughts about allowing the punishments to be delivered by living furs. It did not seem "right" to them. What they really meant was that they did not want other furs having the enjoyment of paddling young behinds.

Mattie privately suspected many of those same furs would jump at the chance to be a Head Master at one of the correctional "Girl's Schools" in Victorian England. They would no doubt enjoy administering the reformatory school discipline to the unlucky teens in their charge and would maintain a large and varied collection of instruments of "castigation".

Mattie saw the door of the cubicle to her far left open. It was one of the pre-pubescent femfurs that was receiving a Green level punishment. A series of lights appeared along the floor to guide the coyote fur to the center of the room and her punishment.

The tween girl tentatively stepped out and walked along the walkway to the catwalk and up to the foot of the dais. She paused there.

"Ten seconds."

The young girl burst out in tears.

"I don't want to! Mommy, take me home! I'll be good!" she wailed. There was no answer from the crowd, but Mattie knew that the coyote girl's mother likely was in the audience watching her daughter's punishment. She did nothing to stop the proceedings.

"Five seconds," the computer intoned.

Crying almost uncontrollably, the coyote sprang up onto the dais. She made it just in time and avoided additional specifications or a higher level.

"Turn to face the other way, bend over, place your paws on your knees, and lift your tail. You have ten seconds to comply with this order," the computer said.

Mattie could see the tears already streaming down the coyote girl's cheeks when she turned around. She bent over as ordered and lifted her tail. She was wearing tight fitting Capri pants. Even if she was clothed, she was giving a good view of her ass to the crowd behind her. They cheered in appreciation of the youngster's rump.

"Spread your feet to the locations indicated by the lights."

Mattie could not see the lights, but she saw the coyote look down and spread her feet apart. The armadillo growled softly as she saw the youngster required to open her legs nearly three feet wide.

"Lift your head and look forward."

The fearful coyote girl did as ordered.

Several video cameras descended from the ceiling. Monitors on the sides of the room descended from the ceiling and came to life. From her cubicle, Mattie could see views of the young girl in profile and close-ups of her face displayed on the side walls. Mattie guessed from the girl's look of horror that the screen above the cubicles was showing her behind.

Another arm rose from the dais. Mattie saw a small, round paddle at the end of the arm. It looked to be a ping-pong paddle without the surface covering.

"Punishment is twenty strokes with a paddle. Recipient is to remain stationary in this position while being paddled. Failure to do so will result in extra strokes being administered or the recipient being secured."

The coyote screamed as the first strong stroke was delivered. The crowd erupted at her reaction. They continued to shout as the mechanical arm methodically delivered strokes across the coyote girl's ass. She made it to fourteen before she broke her stance. She popped up, grabbed her behind and rubbed it furiously as she hoped from foot to foot.

"Five additional strokes for breaking position. You will return to position, or you will be secured."

"I don't wanna!"

That was a mistake. Mechanical arms appeared and grabbed the girl. She was lifted bodily from the stage. From beneath the stage a spanking bench appeared. The mechanical arms lowered the girl onto it. Cuffs closed about her arms, legs, ankles and wrists. Another arm descended from the ceiling and grabbed the coyote's bushy tail. It raised the girl's tail high in the air and prevented her from covering her rump with it.

"Ten additional strokes and loss of clothing for impudence," The computer voice intoned.

A pair of mechanical arms rose up from the stage and cut off the young girl's pants and panties. She screamed as she felt them removed. She looked back over her shoulder only to see many of the crowd pumping their fists in the air like their favorite sports team had just scored.

The coyote girl cried piteously as the rest of her original strokes plus fifteen extra were administered to her now bare bottom. Mattie was not sure how of the girl's distress was the pain from her paddling and how much was shame and fear, but the girl was reduced to a bawling heap on the spanking bench. After the restraints were removed, she ran back to her cubicle and tried her best to hide in the glass enclosure. Only the thought of what had happened to the girls who tried to cover themselves stopped her from wrapping her tail around her hips.

Mattie felt her blood pressure rising. This was no way to treat a defenseless cub! She looked across the room at the howling mob and wondered where the girl's parents could be. She had a few words she wanted to have with them, and none of them were civil.

"Delinquent Number Two, ascend to the dais for your punishment. You have twenty seconds."

The door beside Mattie opened. The naked opossum femfur inside did not immediately step out. Instead, she took a step back and actually shook her head no. She wanted nothing to do with this.

"Ten seconds."

The opossum still refused to move.

"Five seconds. Failure to comply will result in punishment level being increased to Orange."

That got the opossum fem's attention. Even if she was afraid, she did not want a worse punishment. She sprinted towards the dais, but she was not fast enough. She had not quite gotten to the steps when the computer said, "Delinquent Number Two has failed to comply with direct orders. Punishment level increased to Orange."

The opossum fem was going so fast that she could not stop her ascent up the stairs, and it was too late when she stopped on the stage and tried to turn and run. Mechanical arms appeared from above and below to grab the opossum in their unbreakable grip.

Two metal posts rose from the stage. There were robotic arms with cuffs attached at the top and bottom. The arms holding the opossum moved her forward and forced her to stand between the two posts facing the cubicles and the huge monitor above them. The arms on the posts came to life and grabbed her ankles and wrists. She was forced into a standing spread-eagled position. The opossum tried to struggle, but she could not budge the rigid steel arms.

Mattie watched with a mixture of foreboding and fear. She was going to receive an Orange Level punishment too, and this was likely a foretaste of what she would have to endure. Dena said that each punishment was different somehow so that none of the cubs knew exactly what they would receive, but the pain was always the same - intense.

"Punishment will now be sixty strokes with a cane on back, buttocks and breasts," the computer voice announced.

The gallery cheered. They were looking forward to seeing this opossum's punishment.

Cameras appeared, and the monitors sprang to life again. Mattie could not see the girl's backside, but she was treated to close-up views of her upper back on one side of the room and her butt on the other. She suspected the camera in front of the girl at chest level was delivering close-ups of her breasts to the screen above the cubicles. Mattie could easily see the girl already quivering in fear, and her punishment had not even started.

Two mechanical arms rose from the dais. One grabbed the naked tail of the opossum and pulled it down to expose her back. The other arm had a cane at the end of its arm.

The cane was made from highly polished ash. It was about three feet long and a quarter inch in diameter. With the strength and leverage of the mechanical arm wielding it, it would hurt badly wherever it struck.

Mattie rubbed her now DDD cup breasts. Having that monster strike her tender teats would be incredibly painful. No wonder they had to give the victims drugs against passing out from the pain. Shock from the beating with this instrument of torture was a certainty without the shot to prevent it.

The crowd quieted in anticipation. Mattie saw most of them leaning forward in their seats. Every fur in the room was waiting in silent anticipation for the opossum's beating to begin.

The first stroke was applied to the opossum's back. Even through the glass Mattie could hear the whistle of the wood cutting through the air followed by the sharp crack like a small revolver shot when the cane struck the opossum just beneath her shoulder blades. For just a moment, Mattie could see the opossum's face frozen in horror. Then the pain registered, and she screamed.

The crowd erupted as if the home football team had scored a touchdown! They hooted as the opossum writhed in her bonds from the pain. They knew it was just the start of the show, though.

Mattie slowly counted to fifteen before the arm came back and delivered a second blow parallel to the first but an inch lower. Obviously, the computer was programmed to draw out the spectacle as well as the pain. This was going to be a slow, methodical, painful beating.

As the opossum screamed and flopped about in pain from each stroke, Mattie divided her attention between the teen femfur and the crowd. Most in the audience stared in rapt fascination as they watched the cane do its work. They would cheer at each stroke. She saw others pointing and apparently commenting on the opossum's antics or the effects of the strokes upon the gray-white female.

Mattie's eyes narrowed. Many furs' paws moved to their laps as they watched. Some went beneath various coverings on their lap. Others did not bother to hide that they were grabbing their crotches. Mattie could see their short, quick movements. There was no doubt that the several of the watching furs were starting to paw-off to the opossum girl's beating. Not only males but also females were doing it. Apparently, gender did not matter to these furs. Both found the opossum's torment equally erotic or at least sexually stimulating.

Mattie felt her heart pounding inside her chest. She was both disgusted and angry at these watching furs. The knowledge that she was next and that they would do the same as she was punished only increased her anger and loathing.

The opossum made it through the first twenty strokes of the cane. When her thrashing head allowed Mattie a look at her face, the armadillo lass could see the frenzied look on the other's face. Her eyes were wide with her whites showing. Between screams, her muzzle was contorted into horrible grimaces that showed off her clenched pointed teeth. Foam appeared on her lips as the beating progressed.

"Two minute timeout," the computer said.

Mattie doubted that the opossum teen heard the computer or understood what was happening in her suffering, but the strokes stopped. The drug cocktail appeared to gain some hold, and the opossum eventually stopped screaming in fear and pain.

The DCCF must have done quite a bit of experimentation, because just as the opossum started to look halfway normal again, the arm grasping her tail lifted it up to expose her ass.

"Twenty strokes with cane to buttocks. Intensity level increased," the mechanical voice intoned.

As hard as the first twenty strokes on her back were, the first stroke of the cane on the girl's behind was worse. Her screams were earsplitting. Mattie could actually see the welt rise up in the close-up view of the monitors. The crowd saw it as well, and they cheered their approval. They were working themselves up into a positive frenzy.

The computer waited a full twenty-five seconds by Mattie's count before delivering the next blow. Mattie guessed that the delay was to allow the welt to reach its full height and pain level before inflicting the next dose of torment.

The second and third strokes raised large, angry welts as well, but the fourth stroke broke the opossum's flesh. The crowd roared ecstatically. They wanted blood, and now they had it.

Drops of blood flew with each additional stroke. The teen opossum's bottom was turned into a series of closely spaced horizontal stripes of welts and blood. The blood dribbled down over her rump and thighs before falling to the floor. Only the drugs stopped her from passing out from pain and blood loss. Mattie could only guess what the pain enhancement drugs were doing to the opossum. The caning alone had to be frighteningly painful.

When the last stroke was done, the voice coldly said, "Ten minute break."

Mattie saw several of the furs in the crowd bolt for the exits. The males had large bulges in the crotches, and the armadillo teen doubted that they were wearing codpieces. Almost as many femfurs headed out the doors as well. She had no doubt that they were heading for the bathroom stalls for sexual relief. She had to wonder if the longer delay was as much to give them an opportunity to masturbate to climax and return as it was to allow the victim to recover.

Not that all of the furs in the audience had waited for the break. She could see several with wet spots on their crotches. None seemed the slightest bit embarrassed. Mattie wondered if public ejaculations would be a common occurrence by the end of the punishment session.

The opossum's screams subsided to a steady crying punctuated with sudden sobs. She was obviously still in great pain, but the worst of the trauma was passing. Mattie knew that is was but a lull before the next storm.

Mattie concentrated on watching the crowd, especially her uncle and his two friends. She could see them observing the girl and jovially talking about her punishment. Her uncle caught sight of her staring at him. He mouthed the words, "You're next!". One of her uncle's friends turned the other around and mimicked giving him strokes with a whip. All three laughed at the civet's joke, but Mattie just glared at them in anger. This was no joke for her and the other cubs being punished!

The ten minutes ended, and the beating resumed.

"The final phase of the punishment shall be twenty strokes to the breasts. Ten strokes shall be administered to each mammary gland," the computer informed the waiting crowd. The dais revolved around so that the opossum was facing the waiting throng observing her torment.

The level of excitement had dropped with the break, but it picked right back up where it left off with the imminent resumption of the girl's torture. The impending application of cane to tender young breasts excited them and started to send them into a positive frenzy.

The opossum's front was facing away from Mattie, but the cameras shifted, and the monitors changed to display various views of her breasts. Unlike Mattie, she had not been given drugs to force lactation, so her pert B cup breasts hung naturally from her chest. Their smaller size did not detract from the crowd's appreciation of them or anticipation of what was to come soon.

Two mechanical arms, one on either side of the girl, rose from the dais. Before, the opossum had not been able to see the implement of her torment, but now the two canes were on full display for her. She screamed in terror when she saw them and futilely tried to draw back.

The arms rotated backwards and paused for a moment. Mattie could see the opossum staring at the canes. She screamed, "NO! PLEASE, GOD, NO!" repeatedly. Her cries were as ineffective as her attempt to escape. They fell on deaf microphones as the computer ordered the first stroke to be administered to the girl's right breast.

As hard as the strokes to the girl's bottom had been, the stroke to her right breast was even harder if possible. It drew immediate blood to the delight of all the watchers. The crowd actually stood and cheered. They started to bark "Next stroke! Next stroke!" over and over, as they awaited the administering of another blow to the helpless femfur's teats.

The girls who had not been to the punishment facility gasped in shock at the crowd's reaction. They could hardly believe what they were seeing. Even Mattie was taken by surprise. Dena had glossed over the crowds in the past. Even the more experienced victims took a half step back from the intensity of the crowd's bloodlust. They had seen it before and knew that the crowd would soon be calling for their blood as well. It did not make it any easier for them to bear.

The computer activated the other arm and delivered a crashing blow to the girl's left breast. She opened her mouth, but the pain was so great now that nothing came out beyond a croak.

Mattie wanted to turn away in horror, but she had to watch. This was to be her fate next. She had to see what her uncle was going to do to her. Deep inside of her, she realized she also had a morbid curiosity about what was happening. It was like watching a car wreck in NASCAR and waiting to see how bad things would be. Unfortunately, there would be no equivalent of a driver crawling out of the mangled wreck of his car unharmed here.

The strokes came randomly. The opossum girl had no clue when they would happen or which of her now bloody breasts would receive the next blow. Between the sixteenth and seventeenth stroke the armadillo looked at the coyote that had brought her to the DCCF to receive a similar torture. He was laughing and pointing right along with the rest of the furs. She could see that his right paw was between his legs, and he was openly stroking the long bulge in his pants. It was obvious what his feelings about what was occurring were.

The twentieth stroke fell on the opossum's left breast with a wet splat. Even with the drugs, her breasts had been turned into a bloody mess. Her gray pelt over her sternum and abdomen had been turned blood red. More blood lay splattered on the floor of the dais.

"Fifteen minute display," the computer said.

Mattie did not know what that meant, but many in the gallery who were regular visitors to the events did. They thronged out of the seats and onto the main floor. They surrounded the opossum teenager as she hung between the posts weeping uncontrollably. They reveled in her pain and humiliation. Many were openly masturbating like her uncle. Mattie could see the pink flash of male genetalia in the palm of their paws.

After fifteen minutes, the computer ordered the furs back to their seats. It was clear that many left reluctantly, but the thought of eight more victims punished for their pleasure mollified them for now.

The arms released the opossum. She dropped to the floor and curled up in a ball. Her arms were wrapped across her breasts both to hide them and to try to alleviate some of the intense pain.

"Return to your cubicle," the computer ordered the opossum teen fur.

The opossum did not move. Mattie was not even sure if she was aware of what was happening or the order through the haze of pain she had to be enduring.

"Juvenile Delinquent Two, you have thirty seconds to return to your cubicle. Failure to do so will result in additional punishment."

Mattie took a small step forward. She knew that the threat was not an idle one. Dena had not been able to crawl back to her cubicle in time on more than one occasion. Her punishment had been extended and even worsened.

Come on, Girl! You can do it! Move! Mattie thought as she mentally urged the teenager to pick herself up and move.

The crowd meanwhile exhorted the girl to stay down. They wanted to see her punished even more.

The opossum finally stirred. She could not stand. She crawled down the steps and back towards her cubicle. Mattie could see the blood dripping from her breasts. It left a trail of drops that her knees and feet smeared into one long, red ribbon leading from the center of the dais to the crawling teen.

"Fifteen seconds," the computer said as the opossum girl reached the halfway point of her journey. It was going to be close.

"Ten seconds."

Mattie called out loudly, "Come on! Fight the pain! You can do it!"

"Juvenile Delinquent Three, additional specifications are added for shouting."

Mattie did not care. The opossum had picked up her pace.

"Five seconds."

The teen reached her cubicle.

"Three Seconds.

"Two Seconds.

"One second."

The girl barely managed to pull her tail into the cubicle in time. The door closed, and she was as safe as she could be here.

"Juvenile Delinquent Two, stand up and face the front. Failure to do so will result in additional punishment."

Dena had told Mattie about this as well. The girl and the others would be on public display for the rest of the punishment session plus an hour supposedly allocated to letting the crowd leave. The girl's torment might be over, but her humiliation continued.

There was a break in the action as furs appeared and cleaned the stage and walkway. Mattie expected the cleaning furs to be shocked by what had happened, but she could see from their bland looks that they considered it just another part of the job.

Mattie's respite was short-lived. The cleaning furs left, and it was her turn.

"Delinquent Number Three, ascend to the dais for punishment. You have twenty seconds to be in place," the detached, mechanical voice said.

The door to Mattie's cubicle opened. For the first time she got the full effect of the crowd. They were cheering and screaming at the thought of what they would see. She could smell the fear of the first two teens and the blood from her companion to the left. Permeating through everything was the strong, musky scent that Mattie knew came from sexual arousal.

Bobby Clepti stood up, pointed at Mattie and shouted over the crowd noise, "Now you're going to get it good, girl! Now we're gonna see those big boobies of yours hurt like hell!"

Something in Mattie broke loose. Her shoulders puffed up in anger. She growled. She had been forced into this situation, but she was done placidly accepting what was happening to her and the others. She knew the consequences, but she no longer cared. She was not going to let them use her like this without a fight!

Mattie stepped out of the cubicle and proceeded straight ahead towards the exit at the far end of the room.

The crowd quieted in shock. The children being punished were always obedient. Such behavior as this was unheard of.

"Delinquent Number Three, you are not going in the proper direction. Immediately proceed to the dais for punishment or receive additional specifications. Security has been called," the computer said.

Mattie ignored the voice but picked up her pace.

As she placed her left foot on the bottom stair, her uncle stood and moved into the aisle to block her way. He spread his legs wide, placed his paws on his hips and angrily yelled, "Mattie! Get your ass back down there right now!"

Mattie continued to ascend the stairs.

"Girl! I warn you-"

Mattie might not have armor on her legs, but she had a set of good claws on her feet. She took one more step, curled her toes and kicked Bobby Clepti in the balls as hard as she could. Having been raised as a poor sharecropper in Alabama working the clay soil, she had plenty of muscle and mass to put behind her kick.

The male coyote howled and bent forward. He grabbed his crotch and crossed his legs. His eyes rolled back in his head.

Mattie's mother had made sure that her daughter knew how to defend herself. That instruction came in useful now. She grabbed the coyote's ears and pulled his head down as hard as she could while raising her right knee. There was a sickening crunch as she connected with his muzzle.

Mattie shifted her stance without letting go of her uncle's ears. Back in Alabama, she had been a three-time state Jiujutsu champion for her age group. Now she employed one of her favorite tosses to send her uncle crashing head first into the back of one of the nearby seats. The furs sitting in that section scattered as her uncle came flying at them.

As the older coyote rolled over and looked up at her dazedly from a sitting position, Mattie screamed at him. "I am not going to be entertainment for you or any of these other pedophile sadists!"

Still furious, Mattie turned and resumed her ascent.

The door opened, and the boar bear that had prepared her for her punishment entered. He took one look at Mattie and said, "Hold it right there, girlie. You're not going anywhere."

Mattie paused. The bear advanced with his right arm extended.

"I'm gonna take you hack down right now. You're gonna get another level added on for what you did."

The bear reached Mattie and started to place his paw on her shoulder. He obviously saw her as no threat to him.

"Come a-"

Mattie reached out and grabbed his wrist. She twisted it hard counterclockwise while kicking the inside of his right knee. There was the sound of bones breaking, and the bear screamed as he dropped to one knee. She twisted his wrist the other way and delivered a kick to the side of his left knee. Her Jiujutsu teacher would have been proud of her form as she took down the much larger bear and rendered him largely impotent.

The bear looked up at Mattie and saw the rage in her face. He desperately tried to grab his gun with his free paw.

"Not today!" Mattie said as she grabbed the pistol. It was a 9 mm with a clip of at least ten rounds similar to what her mother had gotten her for the nights on the farm when she was left alone.

Mattie pointed the barrel at the bear's head and said, "Stop struggling! I'm leaving, and there is nothing you can do about it. If you don't want to get hurt more, just let me go."

Mattie heard the doors open, and a new voice said, "Mack, are you- Holy shit!"

Mattie turned to see a wolf guard drawing his pistol.

Mattie's mother had always told her daughter, "Never start a fight. Never draw a gun without very good reason.

"But if it ever comes down to you or them, shoot first, and shoot to kill.

"No fur touches my daughter and lives!"

Instinctively Mattie raised the pistol and fired a single round into the wolf's head. He went down in a crumpled heap.

Mattie felt the bear lunge at her. She twisted his broken wrist again while taking a half step back. He kept coming, so Mattie lowered the gun and shot him in the head.

In less than two seconds, Mattie had killed two DCCF security guards.

"Crap!" Mattie howled. It was one thing to walk out on her punishment and quite another to kill two furs, even if she did so in what she considered self-defense.

It was time to get out of here.

Mattie took two steps up the stairs when she heard her uncle call out from behind her, "Bitch! Now you're gonna get it, and I'm glad of it. I can't wait to see you fry in the electric chair!"

Mattie stopped dead in her tracks. She scowled. She needed to get out of here. However, this was likely the only chance she would ever have to get back at her uncle for what he had done to her.

Mattie turned and walked back to her uncle. He grinned up at her.

"Too weak to leave, eh?

"Your aunt was the same way. I taught her real good to stay. I'd do the same with you, but you aren't going to be around for your lessons."

Her uncle started to laugh low in his throat.

Mattie had wondered why her aunt had stayed with this coyote after the armadillo had come to live with her uncle and learned what type of fur he was. She realized in that instant that her aunt had been an abused spouse, afraid to leave her husband. She now had a good idea how her aunt had died as well.

Mattie raised the gun and pointed it between the coyote's eyes.

"No, you are not, and you never would have," Mattie informed in a cold voice.

"And I'm not going to let you rape any more little girls who cannot defend themselves.

"Ever."

Mattie dropped her aim and fired two quick shots into her uncle's crotch where she hoped his testicles were. She had no real idea if she got them or not, but his howls and screams of pain were enough to make her think she did.

The armadillo femfur raised her pistol and looked around.

"Anybody else want to try to stop me?" she yelled at the watching furs.

The furs in the gallery pulled away from her and cowered. They suddenly did not want anything to do with this armadillo teen that not only refused to be their entertainment but also fought back with deadly results and shot males in the balls.

Mattie started back up the stairs. When she came to the bear's body, she reached down and quickly undid his weapon belt. He had extra ammo and a radio on it. She looped it over her left shoulder like a bandolier.

The teen armadillo raced up the stairs. When she came to the wolf's body, she took his weapon belt and looped it over her right shoulder. She rotated it around and drew his gun with her right paw.

The radios crackled and a male voice said, "Mack! Bob! Report! What's going on back there?"

Standing, Mattie took the last step to the doors. She paused with her right buttock pressed against the panic bar. She looked back at the watching furs and snarled. They cringed back from her in fear.

There was a good chance that there were more guards outside. They likely would fire at her as soon as they saw her.

Mattie took a deep breath. She looked back at the dead guards and her uncle lying in a growing pool of his own blood. She realized what she had done. She had challenged Authority in a manner that Authority could never ignore. If it did, others would do the same.

Mattie was a dead fur.

Mattie shook at the realization, but the adrenaline rushing through her body kept her from rolling up into a ball. Under her breath, the armadillo female muttered, "If I'm going to die, I might as well go out with a bang!"

Mattie shoved the door open with her butt. Using the door as temporary cover, she pointed both pistols down the long corridor leading to the other Punishment Rooms. Seeing nothing, she whipped around and stepped from behind the door. There was no fur between her and the reception area.

"What the heck...?" Mattie asked herself as she lowered her guns. Apparently no fur in the DCCF had every considered this possibility because there were no heavily armed guards in body armor to greet her. Most likely, they were enjoying the shows in the other Punishment Rooms or grabbing a bite between sessions.

The radio crackled again. The voice said, "Mack! Bob! Can you hear me? Reply now!

"Joe! Jim! Get up to Punishment Room One and see what is happening."

Mattie did not have much more time. She ran down the corridor towards the front entrance and possible escape.

At the end of the corridor, she took a hard right turn. In front of her was the reception desk with the white-clad ferret still sitting at the desk. Beside her now was a puma in a guard uniform. He had a radio in his right paw and was turning on monitors hidden behind the desk. As he did so, the male puma continued talking into his radio.

"Jessica and Sammy, take the other guards and get the rest of the Punishment Rooms locked down quietly. I don't want a panic started. This might be nothing, but don't take any chances. We don't know what is happening in Punishment Room One and, until we do, we play it safe and go to a maximum-security condition."

Mattie took a quick look around as she entered the reception area. The first punishment session had just started. Besides the puma and ferret, there were only a few parents and their delinquent cubs coming early for the next session in the glass atrium.

The puma heard the echo of his voice coming from his left. He turned his head to see which of the guards was there and found himself looking past two pistols into the face of a naked female armadillo teen.

"I'm leaving," Mattie said as she entered the reception area and started toward the door. She kept the guns pointed at the puma.

"You need to go back to your Punishment Room immediately, Miss," The puma said as he assessed the situation.

"No, I'm walking out the doors and not coming back. Ever," Mattie replied firmly.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that, Miss," the puma said in an authoritarian tone.

Mattie waved her left gun around in the general direction of the teen furs and their parents. She heard the clatter of claws and hooves skittering across the linoleum floor as they scattered.

"Then you will have to kill me," Mattie told him while looking directly into his eyes.

The puma saw the young armadillo's determination. This was no hysterical teen. She was scared but determined. She was also rapidly progressing towards the front doors.

"Stop now!" he ordered Mattie.

"No," Mattie replied in a calm tone. She reached the doors and paused. She fumbled about with her left paw a bit trying to find the handle.

"Well, I guess there is nothing I can do then to stop you," the puma said. He shifted slightly to his left. Mattie missed it as she was distracted by finding the handle.

"Good choice," the armadillo said as she started to open the door. For just a moment, her eyes looked away from the reception desk.

The DCCF had hired guards from the local police agencies. The police were taught to draw even when somefur had the drop on them. Since Mattie had appeared, the puma had just been waiting for the best time to do so. He took advantage of Mattie's temporary distraction to draw his gun.

Mattie saw the sudden flash of reddish brown fur and looked back. The puma had his gun half out of his holster. For just a moment, their eyes met. Mattie realized that there was no remorse or indecision in the puma's gaze. He was going to shoot and kill her.

Mattie fired two shots in rapid succession.

The ferret screamed and dove under the desk. Her bright white uniform was splattered with the puma's red blood. She screamed again as his body slid over the desk and fell beside her. Mattie did not hear her screaming stop even as she closed the doors behind her.

Mattie looked around. There had to be video surveillance in the parking lot, and she did not want to be seen leaving. It was easy to spot the two remote control cameras on the corners of the building. She could not find any on the light posts or elsewhere. She just hoped that the DCCF was sufficiently arrogant to think that hidden video cameras were not needed.

The armadillo girl took careful aim with the bear's pistol and fired one shot. The mirrored dome cracked as the bullet passed through it and destroyed the video camera within. Mattie turned to her left and fired once with the wolf's pistol. The thin arm holding up the dome and camera snapped as the bullet cut through it. Both dropped to the ground.

Mattie had intended to take out just the camera, but the sights on the gun were off terribly. Still, it made an impressive looking shot, and perhaps those following her would think twice about confronting her.

Uncle Bobby's pick-up truck was parked on the far side of the parking lot. She ran over to it. The doors were locked, so she reversed the gun in her right paw and used the grip to break open the window after sliding the safety on. She pushed the button and unlocked all the doors.

From behind the passenger side seat, Mattie pulled out her school backpack. Last night she had been so upset that she had left it in the truck by accident. Now she shoved the ammunition, radios and her extra pistol into the bag. She could not close the zipper, but it would hold her booty until she had the time to rearrange things.

Mattie glanced back at the DCCF building. She could not see anything through the mirrored glass, but at least no fur had appeared outside yet. Likely when the guards came out, they would shoot her without asking questions.

Mattie grabbed a pry bar from her uncle's tool chest. Using the pry bar, she broke into the locked glove box. Inside she found and grabbed a thick envelope. It was her uncle's drug money. She stuffed it into her backpack as well.

In the distance, Mattie could hear the wail of police sirens. Somefur had finally called the police. She needed to get away fast.

A cast iron fence ten feet in front of Mattie marked the edge of the parking lot. She quickly climbed up and over it. On the other side was a concrete sluiceway. Down the center of it ran a small creek. When the DCCF and the rest of the office park had been built, the stream had been tamed by encasing it in concrete. The land in the commercial park was too valuable to waste on open drainage ditches, so the developers had covered most of the creek. That worked in Mattie's favor now.

The armadillo female turned to her right and ran down the bank to the culvert under New Justice Highway. She did not pause as she entered the darkness of the underground cavern. She would be at a distinct disadvantage if a feline or other fur with good night vision found her here. However, the stream meandered through the development to the opposite side. It provided her good cover even if she could be easily trapped inside. If she could get to the far end, she just might have a chance of escaping capture by the police.

Mattie slowed her pace to a steady jog. She wished she could duplicate the easy, ground-covering lope of a wolf anthro. Her stocky body was made for strength, not speed. Adrenaline and sheer determination kept her going even as her breathing got faster and deeper.

Mattie could not hear the police cars descending on the DCCF facility or the helicopter that joined them shortly afterwards, but she knew that the policefurs had to be looking for her, and they likely would shoot to kill on sight. That knowledge kept her going even as her legs started to cramp and her lungs burned.

It was over an hour later when Mattie poked her snout out the far end of the tunnel. She had made it farther than she had ever expected. Carefully, the armadillo looked around. There were no immediate signs of the police. She raised her head and looked back behind her. No furs with rifles were waiting for her on the road above.

Cautiously, Mattie exited the culvert. She crawled up the bank and looked back toward the DCCF. She could not see it through all the intervening buildings, but she also did not see or hear any police cars with lights flashing and sirens screaming coming towards her.

Mattie turned and looked the other way.

The sluiceway ended shortly past the exit of the culvert. Beyond was "The Barrio", a low-income area known for gangs and crime. The office development was the first step to redeveloping the area and forcing out the "undesirable furs" living there. The residents of The Barrio had no use for police, and, right now, that was exactly what Mattie needed.

Mattie opened her book bag. She removed the schoolbooks and set them aside. She had watched enough police television shows to know better than to leave them here to declare how she had eluded police after she left the DCCF. The envelope with the money went on top of the books. She set aside the gun belts and radios but placed all the ammunition clips in her book bag. The armadillo femfur adjusted the ammunition clips and the wolf's pistol inside the bag so that they were readily accessible but hidden. She did not want to advertise that she was carrying a second weapon. She might need that little edge if she got into a gunfight with the police and lost her main gun.

Mattie closed the bag securely. She opened the envelope to see how much money she had stolen from her uncle.

"Damn!" the armadillo breathed in surprise when she saw the bundle of cash inside. She knew that he was a heavy drug user, but she had never expected to find this much cash. She quickly counted just over three thousand dollars, mostly in $100 bills. She stuffed the envelope into the outside pocket of her backpack.

Mattie looked down at the second pistol. It would be too conspicuous to carry it in her paw and would likely start a fight. As much as she wanted it ready, she had to hide it. It went into a large open-top pocket on the side of her backpack. It would take some effort to draw, but it was the best she could do at the moment. She knew that she needed something better and soon.

Mattie slung the backpack over her shoulders. The gun belts and radios went over her left shoulder. She grabbed her books and started walking down the streambed towards the heart of The Barrio.

Casual nudity among furs, particularly the poor, was sufficiently common that Mattie was not particularly worried about standing out because she was naked. Her lack of clothes would likely get her some second looks, but it did not immediately flag her as out of place. Her species was not going to be much of an issue in The Barrio either. She was sure that there were plenty of young female armadillos here. She knew a little Spanish from her time back in Alabama, and she thought she could get along okay.

As she walked, Mattie thought about what had happened. She wondered if she had done the right thing. If she had complacently accepted her punishment, she would be in great pain, but her punishment would be over, three furs would be alive, and the police would not be looking for her with murder in their eyes.

On the other paw, if she had not stood up, she would become just like Dena. Her uncle would have taken her to the DCCF every chance he had. Her will would be slowly but surely broken. The lie he had told to get her there the first time would just be perpetuated with her as a willing victim. She would eventually become part of the system - just another cog in the unending assembly line of tortured teen furs.

Mattie refused to be another of her uncle's or DCCF's victims.

Briefly, the armadillo wondered if her uncle was alive or her fourth kill of the day. After realizing that Aunt Mabelle had likely died of abuse at his paws, she was rather hoping he was alive and in an agony that would last the rest of his life. She was not a vindictive fur, but Mattie had a strong sense of justice and proportion. It would be fitting for him to live in constant pain just as her aunt obviously had.

At a minimum, she doubted that her uncle would be sexually abusing any furs, cub or adult, in the future. That alone made much of what she had done today worthwhile.

It really did not matter much, though. Mattie had refused to quietly submit to the DCCF and the government that supported it. She was a threat to both now. Neither would allow her to survive. They would kill her at the first chance they had to make an example of her to the other children and teens. Submit to the DCCF and your guardians and take your horrible punishment while the pervs watch you scream under the lash or die.

Mattie rubbed her breasts. They were still swollen from her forced lactation. Dena said they normally staid filled for four to six hours. It felt like this was going to be at least a six-hour enlargement. Her teats still looked like she was mothering a full brood of cubs. She wondered what it would have been like to have pups. At least she would not have to worry about bringing young into a world that allowed the DCCF to not only exist but also thrive with the full support of the authorities.

Mattie covered another mile along the stream and through the backstreets and alleys of The Barrio. When she could, she rested for a bit. Along the way, she found spots to bury her textbooks and school supplies. She hid the gun belts inside an unlocked garage. It might not put off a police bloodhound, but at least a casual tracker would not be able to spot them lying on the ground and figure out which way she went. The radios went into separate dumpsters. She took the time to dig into the trash and hide each radio well.

It was only early afternoon when Mattie dumped the last of her books into a hole and filled it back up. It amazed Mattie that so little time had elapsed. It felt like weeks since her uncle had pulled her from her chair at breakfast and tossed her into the truck.

Mattie had to do something about her appearance and get supplies next. If she was going to be walking around in public, clothes would be a good start. Looking up, Mattie saw wash from several families hanging out to dry on lines strung between buildings or run out to telephone poles at the back of the properties.

There were several blouses and pants hanging out on the lines. Some looked like they were made for armadillos or other chunky furs. Her eyes settled on a pair of khaki cargo pants that looked like they would fit her. Not far away on the same clothesline was a nice white male's shirt that was a couple of sizes too large for her.

The teenage armadillo stood and casually walked over to the clothes. She looked around. No fur was in sight. She checked the windows. Everyone was either inside watching sports or out doing something. No fur looked out at her from within any of the houses.

Mattie reached up and pulled the clothes she wanted from the line. She opened the envelope and took out four $100 bills. She stuffed them into the pocket of the shirt beside her in payment. It was a lot more than the clothes were worth, but she soon was not going to need money any longer. Besides, it felt good to give her uncle's drug money away to somefur who likely needed it.

Around the corner, Mattie found a quiet area hidden from prying eyes. She pulled on the pants. They fit reasonably well. The shirt was too large as she expected, but she left it mostly unbuttoned and just tied off the tails at her midriff. It left her bellybutton showing and would likely pass as "fashionable". She emptied her backpack and dropped it into a trashcan. She transferred the guns, ammunition, and cash to pockets in the pants. When she was done, the pockets bulged a bit but hid their contents well enough. She was more worried about her guns. She could get to them fast enough if there was trouble, so she was happy with the arrangement.

Mattie found an alleyway leading to a major street. She snuck to the far end. When she got there, she looked around. There were a various furs out on the street, but no policefurs were visible. She took a deep breath and boldly strode out into the street.

Nothing happened.

Mattie continued walking casually but reasonably quickly. She had only a general idea where she was and no real idea where she was heading except "away". Soon, though, her nose picked up the smell of food. It had been some time since she had eaten a few bites at breakfast and much longer since her last real meal. Her stomach started loudly complaining as soon as she smelled food. Mattie decided to chance the risk of being seen to get a bite.

The delicious smells were coming from a street market. Several vendors had setup carts on the sidewalks and were selling goods as well as food. Mattie looked over the carts and selected one at the end of the line run by an old male armadillo. She walked up to him and ordered a burrito and water.

The male looked her over. Mattie realized that she had spoken in English. Hesitantly she started to order in broken Spanish.

"I got the order the first time," the male growled at her.

Mattie followed his gaze down to her left thigh. The outline of one of her pistols was clearly visible. She nearly panicked, but then she realized this was gang territory. The old armadillo probably saw guns every day. Likely, he just thought she was another gang member looking for trouble. She decided to brazen it out.

"So? Are you going to give them to me or not?" she asked him peremptorily.

The vendor continued to grumble under his breath about today's youth and their lack of respect for their elders, but he got her food.

While she waited, Mattie listened to the radio hanging from the side of the cart. It and several others were playing the Rush Rattus Show. Mattie was surprised to hear the ultra-conservative shock jock in The Barrio. He regularly talked about the need to get rid of those who lived here. Mattie did not listen to his show, but she knew about him from all the talk at school. Many of the high school students liked his conservative views. The kids at school who did not like him derisively called him "Crush".

Right now Crush was talking about Mattie.

"Can you believe it?! The pathetic police cannot find this mere cub after she goes ballistic over a little well-deserved discipline and shoots up the place! This threat to society is running around free and three furs are in the morgue, but they cannot do anything.

"Talk about your incompetent bleeding heart liberal cops!"

Mattie noted that Rattus did not say her uncle was dead. Apparently, the coyote had survived. Once again, she had ambivalent feelings about that.

Rush continued his rant.

"This just goes to show that we have been too soft with our cubs. We need more discipline, not less like the Nanny State liberals would have us do! We need more DCCF facilities, and we need them now! Stop pouring government money into failed social engineering programs and put it into things that we know work.

"Strict discipline is what we need, not coddling of these juvenile delinquents!"

Mattie was so wrapped up in Rattus' rhetoric that she actually jumped when the vendor touched her arm. He was holding out her order.

"Five dollars," he said.

Mattie handed him a $5 bill. Instead of walking away, she nodded towards the radio and said, "I'm surprised you and so many others are listening to Crush."

The male armadillo laughed and replied, "The loco gringo? He makes us laugh with all the silly things he says."

The male narrowed his eyes and looked at Mattie carefully. He said, "You are not from around here, are you?"

Mattie on her heel turned and walked away without saying another word.

"I've got a nice bed and something to keep you warm if you want it," he called after her. She heard him laughing when she did not respond to his offer.

Mattie continued walking down the line of stalls. She ate and listened. Her breakout was all about which Crush was talking. He berated her, the city, the police and everyone else for her "shooting rampage". He demanded that no expense be spared in bringing her to justice starting with her missed discipline at the DCCF. She should receive the utmost penalty that the DCCF had for what she had done, and, since her uncle could immediately authorize it and the DCCF do it, there would be no waiting for inept courts that would likely let her go free on some minor technicality.

As she walked, Mattie got madder and madder. She had thought that her anger had been blown out with the last of the adrenaline, but Crush's words stung her. She knew the truth, and it was nothing like what he was saying. The entire city would think she was a stark-raving, homicidal lunatic that should be put down on sight. Even if she got out of the city, The Rush Rattus Show was now national. Over twelve million furs would know about her and be looking for her with vengeance in mind.

Mattie had to do something, and it had to be pretty public. If she showed up in person at the studio, she was not going to be able to accomplish anything before the police arrested or more likely killed her. However, there was a good alternative available to her.

At the other end of the row of stalls were several small Mom and Pop stores. Mattie popped into a couple and made some quick purchases. At the first three, she got several disposable cell phones. She paid in cash, so they should be virtually untraceable. At the second, she bought a small portable AM/FM radio with speaker and ear buds and plenty of batteries. At the fourth, a convenience store, she picked up some provisions that she could carry easily and would not go bad without refrigeration.

Mattie continued towards the river that ran through the heart of the city. She spent the rest of the daylight checking out the bridges and surrounding industrial area to get the lay of the land. During her investigation, she found a small abandoned shed in the industrial area beside The Barrio that was unoccupied by other squatters. She barricaded the door to keep others out and sat down. She thought long and hard about what she had done and what she wanted to do now.

There was no doubt that she could not go back to her uncle's house to get her things. The police would have that staked out and pick her up if she got within a block of it. She could try to get back to the homestead in Alabama. Her old friends might help her if they had not already decided that she was a menace to society that should be shot on sight. She could try heading south to the border, but she knew how dangerous things were there for a single, under-age female. Being wanted by the police, she could not expect help from the authorities there either. Rape and murder were real possibilities.

Mattie's mind raced around in circles. She had nowhere to go, and no way to get there. She was as good as dead.

Mattie's thoughts returned to Rush Rattus and the other victims at the DCCF. She wondered if the other seven femfurs in her group had gotten off or were just moved back one session. Angrily she suspected that the SCCF had re-opened the facility and was pushing through as many delinquent furs as possible today. Nothing would stop them from earning a profit, not even three murdered security guards inside their facility.

Crush appeared to approve of the torture handed out at the DCCF facilities. Indeed, he seemed to want even more. Mattie could not help but wonder if he was another sick sadistic pedophile or if he just did not know of what he approved so heartily.

As she curled up into a protective ball, Mattie smiled a small smile. At least tomorrow, Crush and his listeners were going to get their eyes opened to the reality of the DCCF, even if they did not like it.

Mattie spent most of the next morning hiding out. The shed she was in seemed unused, and going out only increased her chances of being spotted and turned into the police. She waited until shortly before 1 PM to pop the ear-buds in, turn on the radio and tune to the local AM station for The Rush Rattus Show. A few minutes later, the opening strains of his theme blared in her ears. She turned down the volume and waited. The music stopped, and the announcer came on.

A perky male voice said, "Welcome to The Rush Rattus Show! Today we are talking about the continued decline of America due to Liberals.

"Call in with your comments and questions for Rush at 1-800-555-1212."

Mattie got up and walked out of the shed. She headed towards the river. She casually listened to the show as she worked her way towards a bridge she had scouted out last night. She waited until she was four blocks away from it to duck into an alleyway and turn on one of her phones. The display lit up, and she had three bars. Not perfect, but good enough for her purposes. Poor reception might even help her.

Mattie looked around to see if anybody was watching her. No furs were in sight, so she punched in the phone number for The Rush Rattus Show and hit the CALL button.

A few seconds later, a bored operator answered. In a nasal twang she said, "Rush Rattus Show. Taking back America one show at a time. What is your name?"

"Matilda Villosus. I want to speak to Rush."

The female on the other end of the telephone connection gave a loud derisive snort.

"Yeah, right. You're only the thirtieth girl to call in and make that claim!" the operator retorted. "Now hang up and go back to playing with your dollies."

"I am the armadillo who shot and killed three furs, and I shot my uncle as well," Mattie said fervently. "If you don't believe me, send me to a producer or someone who can test me."

Mattie was afraid that she was going to be cut-off, but the operator sighed.

"Okay, but I already have your phone number. If this is a crank call, we'll prosecute."

"That," Mattie said, "is the least of my worries."

There was a short bit of music, and then a baritone male voice said, "Hello. I understand that you claim to be the armadillo terrorist."

"I am an armadillo, but I am not a terrorist. My name is Matilda Villosus, and I want to talk to Rush about what happened yesterday on the air."

"Girl, I've been hearing that all day long. How can you prove that you're the real deal?"

Mattie had been thinking about that question overnight. She knew that she had to give this fur something that only she would know, but she had no clue what she could tell him. Therefore, instead, she asked a question.

"Do you have any information that has not made it out into the media?"

"Yes..." the voice said hesitantly.

"Ask me about it. If I don't give you the right answer, hang-up, send the police after me and sue me when they catch me."

Her response apparently intrigued the fur on the other end of the line enough to get her a chance.

"Okay. Robert Clepti was taken to the hospital. What were his injuries?"

"Well, I kicked him in the crotch hard enough to rupture something. He got two hard hits to the muzzle. One was with my knee, and the other was the back of a seat when I threw him into it. I am pretty certain I broke his muzzle and knocked out several of his teeth. After that, I shot him in the testicles.

"Twice."

There were several seconds of silence on the other end.

"What about the ferret at the reception desk?"

"What about her? I didn't do anything to her unless you count getting the puma's blood all over her white dress. The only thing I can figure is she had hysteria from the body nearly falling on top of her."

There were several more seconds of silence.

"Okay, I'm willing to believe you might be Matilda. As far as I know, just about no other fur alive knows about the blood, and only a few know about Clepti's missing testicles."

"I got both of them?!" Mattie asked happily.

"Hot damn!"

"Girl! That is nothing to joke about!" the male on the other end of the conversation replied almost angrily.

"Who's joking? I'm glad I neutered that child rapist, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat!" Mattie replied fervently, and she meant it.

That brought even more silence on the other end. Mattie was afraid she had been cut-off, but the voice returned.

"That is a pretty strong accusation. Can you prove it?"

Mattie frowned. She was not giving up that information for nothing.

"Yes, but I'm only telling Rush."

There was a sigh on the other end of the line.

"Matilda-"

"Mattie."

"What?"

"Everyone calls me Mattie."

"Okay, Mattie, that's not how things work in radio. You tell us what we want to know, and then we ask you the questions on the air."

"Sorry, but I'm not giving up any more information for free out of hearing of the public. If you want the exclusive interview and the information you want, you have to put me on the radio."

Mattie heard a low growl from the male.

"I can always call up Phil," Mattie added.

The mention of Rush's main competitor and liberal icon was enough to force the issue.

"Okay," Rush's producer said.

"My name's William Jackson. You can call me Bill.

"We'll put you on shortly, but if we even think that you are a fraud we pull the plug on you immediately.

"Got it?" Bill asked.

"I've got it," Mattie replied. She sneaked a look around. She doubted that the show had called the police yet. To them, she was still most likely a prank caller who happened to have gotten ahold of some information or made a good guess. That was going to change when she went on air and. If nothing else, policefurs started hearing her talking on the show. If the Crime Scene Investigation shows were right, they would be able to home in on her phone quickly by triangulating her position form the cell towers. She would have to be careful not to let her anger and frustration get the best of her and keep her on the line long enough for the police to find and kill her.

Two minutes later, Bill came back on the phone with instructions.

"Turn off any radio you have on. It only gives us feedback.

"Speak clearly, but don't shout. The sound fur will make sure you are heard.

"Rush will start the interview right after the commercial. That will be in about fifteen seconds. No vulgarity or bad language, or we beep you. If you are not the real Mattie, we cut you off and send the phone number to the police for criminal investigation.

"We are going live in six seconds... five seconds... four seconds... three... two... one..."

Mattie heard a small click, and then Rush came on.

"We are going to take a short break from today's discussion of socialized medicine in America to talk with a fur claiming to be Matilda Villosus, the sixteen year-old fur that shot up the DCCF facility on New Justice Highway yesterday morning."

"I'm seventeen," Mattie interjected, "and I did not shoot up the facility. I killed three guards with four shots and took out two surveillance cameras with two more."

"Oh, so you admit to killing all those innocent furs?!" Rush crowed.

"I never denied it, Rush," Mattie replied. "But the question you really need to ask is, 'Why did I do it?'"

"I already know the answer! You're a teenage delinquent raised in some Nanny State by Liberal parents who has no respect for the law or discipline!"

Mattie actually laughed.

"Better be careful about calling 'Bama a 'Nanny State', Rush, or you're going to lose your Deep South listeners.

"As for 'Liberal parents', my dad died before I was born in an industrial accident. Mom never took any of the aid that the state offered. We worked a sharecrop farm all my life until she died of cancer because we had no insurance. The only family I had left was my uncle, so the state bundled me up and sent me here to live with him."

"You're still a juvenile delinquent!" Rush counterattacked. "Why were you there in the first place?! Care to explain that, Mattie?"

"I was there because my uncle was mad that I filed a police report against him."

"A false report, no doubt!" Rush said quickly.

Mattie replied calmly, "That is what the officer said, but it was not.

"My uncle did try to rape me."

That must have caught Rush by surprise. It was almost a second before he spoke up again.

"So you file a police report that your uncle tried to rape you, and the police just blow it off.

"What type of fools do you think we are?" Rush added sarcastically.

"Look, Crush! The officer's name is David Caggottis. He has been Uncle Bob's best friend since at least high school. You can check out his wedding to my Aunt Mabelle. He was Uncle Bob's best man.

"He showed up at the house, looked at the broken door, my ripped clothes, my blood on the sheets, and said it was all fake. He accused me of filing a false report just like my Aunt Mabelle.

"He also suggested that Uncle Bob take me to the new Delinquent Cubs Correctional Facility for 'chastisement'."

"Rush commented, So a duly sworn policefur made a determination that you were lying and suggested a proper correctional facility be used to change your behavior.

"Since when does that give you the right to kill three furs?!"

Mattie growled, "You are not listening to one word I am saying, Crush, or you might have noticed that I gave you some facts to check. Once you do, maybe you will figure out that I filed a real report about a real cub rape attempt that my Uncle's best friend covered up.

"But at least you got to the heart of the matter and what I want to discuss. The DCCF."

"A fine new establishment saving taxpayers millions of dollars with its state-of-the-art correctional methods designed to bring order from the chaos of delinquent teenagers!" Rush said almost piously.

"Don't you mean a hellhole where naked tweens and teens are systematically tortured for the enjoyment of sadistic pedophiles?" Mattie asked sarcastically.

"Nonsense!" Rush retorted.

Mattie had been walking while talking. She was at the foot of the bridge she wanted. She scanned the river. An ore carrier was slowly making its way up the shipping channel. She started up the bridge.

"Crush, have you ever been there? Have you ever sat in the gallery and watched what happens?" Mattie asked. "Have you even wondered why the DCCF sells out ten rooms with over four hundred seats three times a day, every day?"

Rush was silent a moment before replying, "Well, I am sure there is a good reason-"

Mattie interrupted by saying hotly, "Of course there is! Sadistic cub sex shows!"

"I'm sure that you are wrong-"

"How can you be when you have never been there, Crush?" Mattie asked pointedly.

"I have been. I saw a twelve-year-old paddled and a sixteen year old caned hard enough to turn her breasts into a bloody mess. Her back and bottom were only a little better off."

"I'm sure you are exaggerating!" Rush shouted back, but Mattie heard just the slightest bit of doubt hidden deep in his voice.

"They had to bring out a cleaning fur to mop up the trail of her blood leading from the punishment dais back to her cubicle. It was a good thirty feet long. And the janitor fur acted like it was an everyday occurrence!"

Rush said nothing. Apparently, Mattie had managed to shock the shock jock.

After a moment, Rush asked, "If things are so terrible, why do the parents take their cubs there?

"Surely the parents would step in and stop this if it is nearly as bad as you say!" Rush practically crowed as he thought he found a fatal flaw in her story.

"I can't speak for everyfur, but I'm an orphan, and so is Dena. Most of the others I know that have been sent there come from broken or single parent homes. They have abusive parents, stepparents or guardians. I cannot prove it, but I suspect more than a few of the cubs' guardians are sexually abusing them as well."

Mattie's tone turned to a sneer as she added, "For them, it is just a cheap sexual thrill. Seeing their kid under the whip is a real turn-on. If the cub quiets down and does what the guardian wants out of sheer terror of being sent back to the DCCF, all the better!"

Mattie reached the center of the bridge. She looked down. The ship as a minute at most from passing underneath her.

"Crush, if you don't believe me, try talking to Dena Latrans. She's a coyote femfur that goes to Central High School with me. She's my best friend and an orphan like me. Her foster dad's been sending her to the DCCF for a few months now. He takes here there every time she is eligible for another torture session. She's been given pretty much everything from Green Level through Red Level."

"There is no Red Level! It's just a Liberal myth to undermine support for the DCCF and the great work it does!" Rush interjected.

"Try telling Dena that! The last time they flogged her breasts with a metal cable!" Mattie screamed back in anger.

"If you don't believe her, try asking the other teens that have been sent there. There are thousands punished at the DCCF facilities each week. You might think it is a 'vast Left Wing Conspiracy', but when you hear the same thing over and over and over from so many cubs, perhaps you will finally begin to realize what is happening here in our city, Rush."

Sarcastically Mattie continued, "Be the 'journalist' you sometimes claim to be, and find out the truth!"

Rush seemed to realize he was losing command of the interview, so he changed gears to try to regain control

"You still have not said why you killed those furs," he said accusatively.

Mattie replied, "I decided to leave rather than be a torture victim. I wanted to just walk out. They decided to stop me. The wolf tried to shoot me, so I shot him. After that, the bear was going to knock me down or maybe something more. I reacted without thinking and killed him.

"I was almost out the door and on my way when the puma tried to draw on me. I already had two kills. I was not going to let him stop me, and I was not going back into one of those Punishment Rooms to be tortured again and again. I pulled the trigger, and I was glad that I did after seeing for myself what the place was all about."

"You realize that you just admitted to three murders," Rattus said triumphantly.

Mattie sighed and said, "I'd call them self-defense or, if we were back in 'Bama, justifiable homicide considering what happens inside the Punishment Rooms. Not that it makes any difference now."

There was another short pause.

"So, Mattie, what are you going to do now?" Rush asked.

"Die."

"Die?!" Rush asked in shock.

"Do you really think that they are going to let me live and go to trial? Do you think that the authorities want what happens in the DCCF aired on the news night after night before and during my trial?

"They'll shoot first and not ask questions later."

Mattie's voice turned sad and introspective.

"Thomas Jefferson once said, 'What signify a few lives lost in a century or two? The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time, with the blood of patriots and tyrants.' This time it is going to be my blood feeding the tree of liberty.

"And you know what, Crush?

"I'm not sorry for it.

"A lot of good cubs are being sent to the DCCF and having their lives ruined. Dena was a nice girl before they broke her spirit. By standing up to the DCCF, I am going to show the DCCF and its supporters that they are not going to go unchallenged.

"I hope that they think about that as they lay there at night with their teenagers in the bedroom next door. It should keep them awake at night!" Mattie finished.

The ship was well under the bridge. Mattie looked down and saw the stern beneath her. She ran across the bridge to the far side. The vessel's whistle sounded.

"It's not going to work! No one is going to listen to these delinquent furs' lies," Rush replied.

"If you think it is a lie, go to a DCCF facility and see for yourself," Mattie countered.

Mattie had a sudden burst of inspiration.

"In fact, show us how big and strong you are and how weak and wimpy all the cubs that are sent to the DCCF Punishment Rooms are. Go there and get a Yellow level male punishment.

"If you dare!" Mattie added with a sneer in her voice.

"Now listen here, little girl-" Rush started to reply.

Mattie cut him off and said, "Sorry, Crush, but I've got a boat to catch!"

Mattie hit the END button and terminated the call. She left the phone turned on. Looking down, she could see the upper deck of the ship about forty feet below her. She waited until the stern came into view. There were two tarpaulin-covered lifeboats there. She took careful aim and tossed her phone over the side of the bridge. It fell until it hit the side of the lifeboat. It ricocheted off and landed on the deck. A few parts fell off, but hopefully it was still transmitting. If the television shows were right, the police could track its movements using the cell towers once The Rush Rattus Show gave them her phone number. With any luck, they would be led off on a wild goose chase long enough for her to get away.

Mattie jogged across the bridge and found herself in a maze of short roads through industrial plants and commercial property. Most were vacant and abandoned, but there were still a few businesses scattered here and there, so her presence was not totally out of place. She walked carefully along the streets and tried to avoid other furs as much as possible. She was not completely successful, but no fur challenged her, and no police cars appeared with policefurs ready to arrest her.

Mattie found a spot to hide inside an abandoned factory. She munched on some of her provisions that she had slipped into her pants' pockets. They kept away her hunger. After night fell, she worked her way back to her shed in The Barrio. There were no signs that anyfur had been there, so she carefully entered. No one was inside. She sighed as she settled in for the night.

It was well into the morning when Mattie awoke. Her late night escapade had tired her, and the extra sleep helped refresh her. Briefly she wondered about Rush and what if any effect her call to him would have. She sighed. Most likely, she would be written off as a distraught, hysterical femfur that had gone crazy at the thought of getting a little paddling and shot her way out of the DCCF. At best, she would be consigned to an urban myth for the cubs. If it gave them hope, maybe it was worth her life.

Mattie wandered back to the street vendor stalls. The armadillo was there again, and she decided to try a couple more of his burritos. He looked her over and grunted. He seemed to like her money fine, though.

"My name is Zeke," he told her as he handed Mattie her food and drink. He said nothing when she tipped him well with her uncle's drug money. She was probably making it easy for the police to find her by coming back here, but for some reason she liked the older armadillo.

Mattie wandered around until she found a quiet place mostly out of sight where she could eat her late breakfast and think. The teen femfur kept her eyes and ears open as she munched on some really good Tex-Mex food.

The radios in the stalls were playing a variety of stations. From the news stations, she gathered that her call to the Rush Rattus Show had stirred things up quite a bit. The police had redoubled their efforts to find her. Mattie almost laughed when she heard one report of the ship she had dropped the phone on being stopped by the Coast Guard. Apparently, the police could track her through her cell phone. That was useful information if she made any other calls.

Several of the talk shows were discussing if Rush Rattus would or would not take up Mattie's challenge. Most thought not. Mattie privately agreed. Rattus was all talk and no action. She at least had shamed him a bit.

Mattie noticed some badgers looking at her in her hiding place. She glared back at them. One took a step towards her. Her right paw slid down to her pants' pocket with the good revolver. The badger backed off. She was not sure if he knew she was packing a gun or not, but, in this neighborhood, furs did not ask questions of those who did not want to speak.

Mattie disappeared as soon as she could. She checked to make sure that no furs were following her, and then took a long walk with lots of twists and turns to try to lose any fur she had missed.

During her meandering, Mattie walked through the industrial section between The Barrio and the river. She came across a train switching yard. Mattie looked longingly at the trains and sighed. If she just had somewhere to go, she could jump into one of the open box cars and ride the rails. She could try heading home to Alabama, but there was nothing there for her now. She could head north to Canada, but what good would that do her? If she were caught, she would be extradited for murder and sent away for life or more likely executed.

Mattie glanced at the time on her portable radio display. It was almost time for The Rush Rattus Show again. Mattie found a secluded spot out of sight and turned on her radio to listen. Rattus came on and promptly started talking about Mattie.

"This teenager apparently thinks this is all a game. She wasted taxpayer money with her little trick. What if this criminal had kept the Coast Guard from rescuing somefur in danger? She is a threat to society, and the police should find and arrest her immediately!" Rattus demanded.

The few hackles on the back of Mattie's armored neck rose in anger.

"And look what she has done. Influencing all those young furs to rebel! At least the police managed to get some of the ones throwing blood on the doors of the DCCF facilities. I guess the police can find stationary criminals at least," Rattus continued.

Mattie's ears perked up. What was Rush talking about? She had not heard anything about this. She was going to have to listen to the news later.

"And her outrageous claims that the DCCF facilities are providing cub sex shows for pedophiles. Why would anyone want to go to see a delinquent teen get spanked?" Rattus asked rhetorically.

Mattie stared down at her radio. Surely, Crush could not be that ignorant!

"It is outrageous. No sane, well-adjusted fur would ever want to do something like that," Rush ranted.

Maybe he is that ignorant, Mattie thought to herself in surprise. She might not like Rattus, but he at least seemed to be worldly and informed.

"Let's take some callers.

"Brian from Wyoming, you're on The Rush Rattus Show. What's your thought about this dangerous criminal?" Rattus asked as he fielded his first call of the show.

A male voice came on and said, "I think it is terrible the way the liberal police are coddling this impudent teen! They should be out looking for her twenty-four hours a day until they find her. And when they do, they should take her to the nearest DCCF facility and give her a long, hard bare bottom spanking!"

Mattie actually laughed at the lust in the male's voice. She had no doubt that he would like to be front and center watching her get paddled. Briefly, she wondered if her armored bottom would be a turn-on or a turn-off for him as the paddling would have little effect.

Rush took several more callers. All were angry with Mattie, and all thought she should be disciplined long and hard at one of the DCCF punishment facilities. Many suggested putting the event on television and forcing other teens like the ones throwing blood on DCCF doors to watch and learn what happened to those who disobeyed the law and their guardians.

Mattie stopped listening to what was being said. It was probably all carefully screened calls supporting Rush's position. She started listening to how things were said and the underlying tones. After a few calls she realized that all these stern disciplinarians, even Rush, were giving off small clues about their prurient thoughts and even fantasies of watching the bad girl getting her come-uppance at the business end of a merciless paddle, cane or whip while she was bound naked for all to watch.

The young armadillo was not surprised. The fantasy was common. What got her was how Rush was totally ignoring the covert and even slightly overt sexuality in the calls. He kept treating them as just expressions of wanting harsh justice for a killer as he so often preached should be done.

Mattie listened for a good hour. Nothing changed. When they went to commercial at the top of the hour, Mattie reached into her pocket and pulled out another disposable cell phone. She would have about ten minutes until the commercials and national news ended.

Mattie turned on her cell phone. Only two bars came on, but that should be enough for her purposes. She keyed in The Rush Rattus Shows' number and waited.

"Rush Rattus Show. Taking back America one show at a time. What is your name?" a bored female voice answered.

"I need to speak to Bill Jackson about getting on the show and talking to Rush," Mattie said.

"I'm sorry, but Mister Jackson is not available while the show is on the air. Can I take a message?" the operator asked.

Mattie had half expected to be shunted off to the side, so she was ready for it. She launched a counterattack.

"My name is Mattie Villosus, and I'm going to make a prediction that if you do not put me through to Bill right now you are going to be fired before the end of the day."

"Wha-," the operator asked in surprise.

"I'm the terrorist, and I'm calling in again!" Mattie practically shouted at the female on the other end of the line.

That appeared to get through to the operator.

"Uh, okay. Let me see if I can get a hold of Mr. Jackson-" the operator said uncertainly.

"Make it fast because I'm not holding on for long!" Mattie replied.

"I'm not sure-" the operator said.

"Move it!" Mattie interjected.

The line suddenly started playing elevator music.

Mattie's mom had taught her to be a lady, and a lady was always polite. Her uncle had shown her that obnoxious people often got their way by being aggressive, threatening and impolite. In this case, her uncle's ways certainly seemed to work better. She was being routed to Bill and should be on Rattus' show shortly.

A few moments later Mattie heard the phone click and a familiar male voice said, "Hello?"

"Bill! Good to talk to you again! How's the weather?" the teen armadillo asked jovially.

"Can it, Mattie! You said you wanted to talk to Rush again." Bill replied in an angry voice.

"Yep!" Mattie said cheerfully.

"Why should I let you?" Bill asked.

"Ratings," Mattie said.

"Ratings?" Bill asked in a confused voice.

Mattie's tone turned slightly condescending as she said, "Oh, come on, Bill! Having the terrorist on the run calling into your show has to add several points to your ratings. It also gets you talked about all throughout the media and, I bet, the Internet. Heck, even I heard about what happened, and I'm in hiding."

There was silence for a time.

Bill finally said, "Okay, Mattie, you are good for ratings and publicity, but I am not going to give a terrorist a platform!"

"Terrorist?" Mattie said in a shocked voice, "I'm just a common murderer, Bill."

"You seem to be rather happy about that," Bill observed.

Mattie paused. Her voice turned somber.

"No, I am not happy about it. All I wanted to do was walk out of the DCCF and away from my uncle. The guards... The guards tried to stop me, even kill me. I defended myself. I didn't want to hurt any of the guards, but I would do it again if I was in the same position."

"And your uncle?" Bill asked in a concerned voice.

"I'm not sorry about shooting him after he tried to rape me. I was not going to be his sex show that day or any day. I am sure he would have raped me that night too," Mattie said with an edge in her voice.

There was a longer silence on the other end of the line.

Bill sighed and said, "I may regret this, but it is worth it for another five percentage points in the ratings if nothing else.

"I'll put you on again."

"Thanks, Bill! I'm looking forward to giving Crush a little piece of my mind while you give the police my phone number."

"Wha- How-" Bill asked in some confusion.

Mattie replied, "Oh, come now, Bill! You guys are all 'law and order'. I'm sure your operator has already called the police and given them the number that came up on the caller ID.

"I'm not mad. It's what you should do. But, I am not going to be stupid about it. I figure in about five minutes they are going to figure out where I am. That's about how long you have."

"That's not much time, Mattie."

"Trust me. I'll make it count," the armadillo teen assured the producer.

"Okay, but, if it makes any difference, we're waiting for the police to call us," Bill said with a small laugh. "This is show business! We can't pass up an opportunity like this."

Mattie did not care that Bill was using her. She was using him and Rush as well. At least she might get a few extra minutes head start this way.

"You are on in thirty seconds, Mattie," Bill said. "Break a leg!"

The elevator music came back on. Twenty-five seconds later Mattie heard the music stop, and the voice of an unknown male fur came on. He said, "Live in four...

"Three...

"Two...

"One..."

Mattie heard Rush's strong voce come over the telephone.

"This is Rush Rattus, and you are listening to The Rush Rattus Show.

"We have a special caller again today. Matilda Villosus is on the line with me again."

"Hi, Rush!" Mattie cheerfully said.

"Are you calling to gloat about the furs you murdered?" Rush asked.

"No, I wanted to call and ask if you had gone to a DCCF facility to watch one of their live cub sex shows yet."

"I have not gone to see delinquents like you properly punished. Why would I want to do so?" Rush asked.

Mattie retorted, "Rush, have you been listening to your callers and even yourself? All of you are getting horny at the thought of my big, bare bottom bent over a spanking bench, my arms and legs tied down, and that big mechanical arm wailing away with a paddle until it breaks.

"Of course, they were going to do my teats, not my butt. Too much armor down there. The drugs they gave me popped me up to about a 40DDD for a couple of hours with all that milk. It sure feels good to be back to my normal 34C again."

Rush asked in a flustered voice, "What?!

"Little lady, you are outright wrong! Your Liberal depravity has no place in civilized society! Why would we want to do such a thing? Why would anyone want to go to a DCCF facility and see you paddled?"

Mattie laughed and said, "And here I thought for sure you would at least be a fan of Birch in the Boudoir since you seem to like discipline so much.

"The reason so many people come is easy. It's fun! At least for the audience. Not so much fun for me and the other teens forced to endure the punishment for those sick, sadistic pedophiles."

"Fun?! How can you possibly think that it would be 'fun' for those watching?" Rattus asked in a shocked tone.

"Well, if it isn't, why are they there?" Mattie asked.

Rush had no reply, so Mattie continued.

"Rush, the truth is a lot of males would love to pull down a girl's panties, put her over their knees and give them a bare bottom spanking. A lot of femfurs as well for that matter. A lot of perfectly normal adult furs get hot just thinking about it," Mattie explained.

"Hardly!" Rush replied with a snort.

"Crush, have you ever heard of Charles Carrington?" Mattie asked.

"No...," Rush replied warily.

Mattie explained, "He was a notorious publisher in Victorian England between about 1890 and 1915. Among his many books that he wrote or published were Birch in the Boudoir , Nights of the Rajah , The Days of Florville , and, most important for this discussion, A Study in Flagellation.

"In the books he revealed a great secret to the masses that the Victorian aristocrats knew and wanted to keep quiet. That was that spanking women was fun! Even some of the women thought so.

"What made him an outlaw was he revealed the seamy side of the situation. He showed that the harems of the Turks were a poor second to an English reformatory school where the masters had their own private flagellation harem. He talked about the secret that the 'disciplinary services' offered by some establishments were in fact brothels where patrons would watch young women brought there by their husbands and fathers being disciplined. It was perhaps the original peep show. George Sala documented it, and he was a respected journalist covering the American Civil War.

"Heck, publications like The Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine ran hundreds of letters from readers in support of paddling, whipping, cropping and even flogging young girls. The Saturday Review in 1869 suggested the formation of Society for the Whipping of Young Women. Both of those were mainstream media back then. Both instances are well documented if you go the appropriate archives.

"Nothing has changed today, Rush. Males still want to spank young girls. If they cannot do it themselves, they want to watch it. The authorities and the media do not want the truth of what happens in the Punishment Rooms to get out to the public or the facilities are going to be shut down and those who run them are going to jail. The politicians who enabled them would be voted out as well, and they cannot stand the thought of losing power.

"The English government and its royalty had to silence Carrington to keep the secret. Their hypocrisy only ended after World War I when they could no longer contain it in the face of Kraft Ebberling and Freud stripping away their veil and revealed the raw sexuality beneath it. The carnage of the 'War To End All Wars' didn't help either.

"The authorities and those who run the DCCF have to silence me to keep their secrets. It's why they are going to kill me. That's why I am going to have to sacrifice my blood to feed the tree of liberty this time. At least I hope that I give others the courage to question and say no to these tortures."

"You seem remarkably well versed in this subject, Young Lady," Rush commented almost sarcastically.

Mattie laughed for several seconds before replying.

"I wanted to do a report on the Civil War. I came across Dolly Morton , which was written by Carrington. After you read Dolly Morton , you never go back!

"My mom was a bit shocked when I talked to her about the book and what was in it, but she made sure I got the entire story and understood what the books were about and why people read them. It turned into quite a bit of work for me, more than the book report for class ever was, but it was worth it.

"I just never thought I would have to go through the same type of torture Noreen or the women at the Reformatory School in Punishment Night In The Girls' Reformatory did. Noreen bit through an inch thick India rubber gag. The girls at the reformatory were given smelling salts to wake them up after passing out from the pain, something we could not do at the DCCF because of the drugs they gave us. After they were awake again, the beatings continued to the delight of the Reformatory School Master and the officials attending to observe the weekly punishments.

"In many ways the Punishment Rooms mirror those Reformatory School punishments with the naked girls on display, the punishment block in the center of the room, the watching audience and all the rest. They just updated it and turned it into a pay-per-view to make money.

"I never thought something like that would happen in our country. I thought we had the freedom and justice you talk about all the time.

"I guess I was wrong," Mattie finished in a dispirited tone.

"Those are some pretty big accusations you're making, Little Miss. Drugs and torture. How can you prove them?" Rush asked.

Mattie laughed and said a bit derisively, "Ask anyfur who's been there, Crush! Talk to Dena about how they used a metal-spiked cat o'nine tails whip on her breasts after pumping her full of drugs to enhance her pain and enlarge her breasts. There are plenty of witnesses in the audience too, Crush.

"Just ask the ones watching me about how big my teats were because they pumped me full of drugs to make me produce milk even though I don't have cubs."

Mattie's voice grew hard.

"Or get up off your big fat rat ass and go there! Put yourself in the Punishment Room, not as a watcher but as a 'Delinquent'. Take an Orange or Red Level punishment and see if you still think this is just some good ol' fashion discipline or outright cub torture."

Mattie could hear the sound of police sirens in the distance. She did not know if they were coming for her or not, but she did know that it was time to leave.

"Gotta go, Crush! I've got a train home to catch before some unwanted company shows up!" Mattie said cheerfully as she abruptly ended the call. As before, she did not turn off the phone. She knew that the police could track it, and she was going to use that to her advantage once more.

The armadillo teen casually strolled across the train yard. She reached the boxcar that she had selected before making her call. It was on the back side of the switching yard and largely hidden from view. Both doors were open, and the interior was only half filled.

Mattie climbed into the car and closed the door behind her. She checked to make sure that her phone was still on and receiving a signal. It was down to one bar, but an intermittent signal might actually work better for her purposes. It would make the police's job harder as the telephone lost and re-established contact with the cell towers. She hid the phone behind piles of goods.

Mattie stuck her head out the other door. She looked back and forth. There were no furs in sight. She jumped down from the railroad car and pulled the door closed behind her. She did not expect the police to fall for her trick again, but they would have to at least search the car to make sure that she was actually gone. That would take up a few policefurs for at least a couple of minutes and delay or at least split the search for her.

Behind the train yard was a large steel mill. The fence was old and rusted. One section had fallen down and not been repaired. Mattie was able to walk over the decrepit chain link fence and into the mill. She headed towards the nearest building. There were the sounds of a lot of activity inside the building, but no fur was watching the back door. She was able to pop inside unnoticed.

Just inside the door was what Mattie needed. Her cargo pants and white shirt stood out like a sore thumb here. There were coats and safety gear for visitors just inside the door. She quickly found the largest coat and pulled it on. It was made for a bison or similar large fur and was very loose on her frame. Safety goggles obscured her face a bit. She pressed the yellow hard hat down as far as she could to hide her features more.

Mattie still needed a reason for being here. She glanced about. There was a clipboard with some paper on it and a pencil hanging off the side by a string. She looked about. No fur was looking at her yet, so she lifted it from the hook. Holding the clipboard in her left paw and the pencil in her right, she boldly walked out onto the floor.

Several furs looked at her. She just looked at what they were doing and made notes. One of the furs came over and asked over the din, "You new here?"

"Yep! Industrial engineering co-op. They sent me back here to do some observing to get my feet wet," Mattie yelled back cheerfully.

The big fur nodded his head and pointed to the far wall. Mattie noticed a door to the outside where he was pointing.

"Go over there. You can get a good look and be safe," the wolverine told Mattie.

"Thanks!" Mattie replied.

The fur went back to work. Mattie made her way to the spot he had pointed out. She spent thirty minutes acting like she was observing, and then she walked out the door.

The steel mill was in full production. There were plenty of furs going about their business. Amid the hustle and bustle, Mattie was just one more non-descript worker. She stopped in several buildings along the way to blend in as she passed several hours until nightfall. The cover of darkness would help hide her trail, and hopefully fewer policefurs would be looking for her by then.

Mattie was able to avoid being detected for several hours. She waited until dusk fell before heading towards the front of the plant. The gate should be there. It would put her on the far side of the plant and hopefully safely out of sight of the police furs.

The front gate proved to be a guardhouse with several security furs and plenty of cameras. Mattie was afraid that she would be spotted and grabbed if she went out through there. She was almost ready to head back into the plant when she noticed several furs heading out with their lunch pails. They bypassed the guard shack and went down the fence. Mattie followed them. She watched form the gathering shadows as they used a turnstile to get out to the parking lot.

Mattie waited until the slow stream of departing workers ended. She looked around. There were no furs visible, so she walked across the short lit stretch of pavement and pushed the button beside the gate as she had seen the other furs do. The turnstile buzzed, and she went through. She was out in the parking lot with no fur the wiser, she hoped.

Mattie walked nonchalantly towards some of the cars at the far end of the parking lot as if she was going to get into one. When she got there, she kept walking. No fur yelled for her to stop, so she continued out onto the road and took a right.

The road did not have a sidewalk, which made her more noticeable than she wanted to be, but a block later, she turned right onto another road with one. There were even a couple of workers going into and out of bars, so she did not look too unusual walking along the road past the bars. She walked back in the general direction of the river. She kept her eyes and ears open, but no police seemed to be waiting for her. She might have evaded them and capture or worse doe another day.

When Mattie came to the river, she looked at the various bridges. There seemed to be no police cars stationed around them, so she selected the nearest that would take her back to The Barrio and her shed hideout. She wrapped up her safety gear in her borrowed coat. Halfway across the bridge, she tossed it over the side and watched it sink. Hopefully no police otter or seal would find them.

It was late when Mattie got back to the shed. She had taken many turns along the way to throw off any trackers. She had not seen any, but she knew that she was at a disadvantage in unfamiliar territory. Back home in Alabama, she would have been able to elude any fur looking for her easily. Here in the strange city she could only try to do the best she could and hope to delay her final accounting.

The armadillo girl dug into her stash of food eagerly. It was cold unlike Zeke's burritos, but it still filled her. After today's adventure, she needed plenty of calories. Being able to eat all the chocolate she wanted without having to worry about gaining weight was a certain freedom that she enjoyed even if it came because she would soon be dead.

C' Est Le Vie! Mattie thought as she munched on tortilla chips and extra hot salsa.

Mattie turned on her radio and listened to some of the late night talk and news shows. She was surprised that they were talking about her again. It seemed that most of the callers were against her, but a handful of them had apparently taken up her challenge and gone to the DCCF. They had seen for themselves what happened there. Their shocked tones gratified the armadillo girl, but they were still a small minority, and the hosts cut them off quickly. It was a start, but there was a long way to go to shutting down the DCCF. At least Mattie had made a beginning even if she had no hope of seeing the end.

Mattie slept late again. When she got up, she dressed and decided to go out for breakfast. She sniffed her body critically. She really needed a shower. She considered but rejected getting a hotel room for a few hours. She had the money, but there was a good chance that she would be recognized by the hotel clerk, and that would be it. Still, she had heard that there were hotels that rented rooms by the hour for the working furs. If they were not turning in the prostitutes, they might not turn her in. For now, she would wait, but perhaps tomorrow she would go looking for a place to get clean if she was still free and alive.

Zeke was at his stall. She checked out the area. There were no cops. She did see a couple of badgers again, but they were not looking her way. She sidled over to the stall and ordered a hearty breakfast.

"Still here," Zeke said as he handed her a bag of food.

"For at least one more day," Mattie replied.

Zeke looked her up and down and said, "I figured you would be gone by now."

From his words, Mattie was fairly certain that he knew who she was. He did not seem to be too concerned about talking with her, so she replied, "I still have some unfinished business here. Once that's taken care of, I figure I'll take a trip."

Zeke snorted.

"Better to take a trip now while you're still alive," the older armadillo advised her.

"I don't really have a place to go other than into a hole," Mattie replied with a sad smile.

"Head south! Head north! Just head out!" Zeke nearly shouted at her.

"Maybe," Mattie replied noncommittally. "I think there are still one or two acts left for me here, though."

Zeke looked Mattie straight in the face and said, "Good luck, girl. You're going to need it. At least you made something of yourself and are making your life count. I'll be sure to tell my grandcubs about you. Not the bad stuff, but the real reasons behind what you did."

"Thanks, Zeke."

Mattie turned and walked away. She wondered if she would ever see Zeke again. She strongly doubted he would call the police on her even if she was now certain he knew who she was and what she had done.

The armadillo teen ate her breakfast while listening to the radios in the stalls. A lot seemed to have happened last night. Her daring calls into The Rush Rattus Show combined with her ability to evade the police were the lead story. There was a lot of talk about police incompetence. There was a sound bite from the police chief. He said that they were closing in on the murderess and would not stop until she was in custody and taken to trial for her crimes.

Mattie nearly snorted at that. She knew that he was going to be ordering her death if he had not already done so.

After the first commercial break, the news turned to the DCCF. Reports were coming in that tweens, teens and even young juvenile cubs were going to the facilities and throwing vials of blood at the doors. The front entrances of all were covered in a gruesome coating of their blood. Dozens of young furs had been arrested, but the ritual was being repeated every night. The guards and even police furs at the facilities were simply overwhelmed by the sheer number of cubs.

Most of the facilities had been closed. Those that were open were operating under very tight security with plenty of extra guards and police prominently displayed on the premises. Most guardians of unruly cubs had to take care of their own discipline.

Mattie listened to these reports carefully. Apparently, her fellow teens had taken her comments about spilling her blood to water the tree of liberty literally. At least for the short term, they were letting all know that they were against the DCCF and the torture of cubs within their Punishment Rooms. It might not work, but it certainly made a statement that the adults could not just ignore even if they wished to do so.

The third segment began with reports of attacks by children on their parents. Mattie frowned. She hoped that those listening to her were not resorting to violence against their parents and guardians. Had they not heard her say that she wished that she had not killed the three guards?

Additional reporting seemed to indicate that the attacks were mainly teenagers scaring their parents. No one was reported killed or even serious hurt. One or two incidences resulted in some small injuries. Mattie just hoped that the situation would not escalate. She was never going to let the DCCF torture her while her uncle watched her writhe in pain, but she did not want to cause teens to start killing their parents either. Still, desperation might lead them to do so. If Dena thought that her foster father would try to send her back to the DCCF again now, the coyote teen just might snap. Mattie did not like her friend's foster parents at all, but she did not want Dena facing a fate similar to Mattie's.

Mattie finished her food and went shopping for some perfume and personal cleaning supplies. Wet wipes might not be perfect, but she had no better options. The coatimundi female behind the counter glared at her, but she took Mattie's cash readily enough. She did not seem to like "gringos", but the color of her money was just right for her.

Mattie seemingly meandered aimlessly for the next hour, but she was actually taking a circuitous route back to her hiding place. She paused to do window-shopping and check out the furs around her in the reflections of the large glass windows. The badgers were back, but she went one way and they went the other at the first intersection. She kept an eye open for them, but they seemed to have lost interest in her.

Back at the shed, Mattie did a walk by to see if there were any signs of activity. No fur was about, so she doubled back and slipped inside after taking a final look around her. Everything seemed to be in order. She kept a lookout while she unpacked her supplies and cleaned herself as best she could. Still no policefur appeared to arrest her. She doubted it would last, but apparently, she had survived another trip outside. However, if Zeke had recognized her, it was only a matter of time until somefur turned her in. The Barrio's residents might not like the police, but the reward they were likely to get for a triple murderer would overcome their revulsion.

When she was done cleaning up her body, Mattie used some fabric freshener on her clothes and hung them up. If a bloodhound was in the area, he would have no trouble telling that this shed was occupied, but Mattie really did not care at this point. She wanted to be clean and reasonably fresh smelling.

Just before one o'clock, Mattie turned on her radio again and dialed in The Rush Rattus Show. The opening played, and Mattie expected to hear Rush's voice. Instead, another voice opened the show.

"This is Bill Jackson, producer of The Rush Rattus Show.

"For the past two days Matilda Villosus has called into the show and challenged Rush Rattus to go to the Delinquent Cubs Correctional Facility to see what is really happening there that caused her to run wild and go on a killing spree.

"Well, Rush has decided to take up her challenge to show that there is nothing at the DCCF that any law-abiding citizen or properly behaved cub need fear!

"Today we are broadcasting live from the DCCF correction facility where Mrs. Villosus killed three guards in cold blood. Rush is currently in the back with eight boys awaiting a punishment session. He will be given a Yellow Level punishment."

Mattie frowned a bit in thought. Eight boys plus Rush only added up to nine. There were ten cubicles. Why were they leaving one empty? It seemed out of place to her and got her mind to wondering what was happening a few miles away.

"With me today broadcasting the action and providing expert commentary on both the punishments and the DCCF in general is Mrs. Justine, Director of Public relations for the DCCF," Bill continued.

"Hello, everyone," a very pleasant female voice said. It seemed to be the voice of a vixen. Mattie instantly hated the highly cultured, sickly sweet voice. It reeked of falseness. Still, Mattie stopped everything she was doing and sat down to listen. She was as naked as the day she had shot her way out of the DCCF, but she did not care. She had to hear what happened to Rush. It was only fair since he had taken up her challenge.

Bill continued, "And finally, if you went on-line yesterday after the show, you know that we were looking for listeners for a live event. Well, this is the event, and we have filled the gallery with four hundred and fifty of our loyal listeners."

Bill raised his voice and said, "Let's hear it from our audience!"

Mattie could hear the crowd whooping it up. It reminded her of her own experience in the Punishment Room. She found a small spark of the anger that she had thought gone ignite in her belly as the unpleasant memories of that day and those who watched the cubs being abused returned.

The general noise transformed into synchronized calls of "Rush! Rush! Rush!" It sounded like it was turning into a sporting event or rock show.

Bill said, "Rush and the boys will be joining us in a minute.

"During the show we will be taking questions and comments from our live audience. We will be limiting the subject matter to what is happening here at the DCCF, the methods that they are using, and what Matilda did here."

In a wry voice, Bill added, "We will not be taking comments about how it is all the President's fault this time."

Mattie clearly heard a very loud chorus of boos in the background at Bill's pronouncement.

"At the end of the show, Rush will take the microphone and describe his punishment live and in color as only Rush Rattus can."

Mattie heard cheers from Rush's fans. They were almost rabid in their support of him.

"During his punishment, Rush will be miked and wearing an ear piece so that he can communicate with everyone. We will hear his thoughts on what is happening live as they occur. Mrs. Justine and others will be able to comment upon what is happening as well," Bill said. "Before his punishment, we will limit Rush's contact with the audience to mimic what happens to cubs brought her for punishment and prepare him for his own supposed 'ordeal'."

There was a sudden cheering and loud cries of "Rush!" from the audience in the gallery.

Bill raised his voice above the cheering and said, "And the delinquents including Rush have entered the Punishment Room!

"For those not familiar with the DCCF Punishment Rooms, one end contains ten small glass cubicles. The delinquents enter through doors in the back and wait for their turn in the cubicles. They also remain there until the punishment session is over.

"Mrs. Justine, why do you use this arrangement?" Bill asked.

The silky smooth female voice of the DCCF spokesfur answered, "The arrangement allows us to properly prepare the delinquent teens and control their movement during the punishment that the government or their parents and guardians have ordered. It is also for their own protection and well-being. It allows us to control and monitor the situations very closely so that they do not hurt themselves or others."

Mattie snorted derisively. They had tried to control and mange her but failed!

"Why not just hold them in back, bring them out for their punishment, and then release them to their parents or guardians?" Bill asked.

Mattie grinned. Bill had spotted a flaw in Mrs. Justine's explanation.

"We deal with a large number of delinquent furs here on a daily basis. Just like say an amusement park, we need to maintain good crowd control and flow throughout the facility. After studying various models, our industrial engineers decided that this was the best way to do so."

Mattie snorted again. Displaying the naked teens to the crowd of horny pedophiles watching them had absolutely nothing to do with this arrangement, of course! Mattie thought derisively.

"Mrs. Justine, how long will the delinquents be held in these cubicles before the punishments begin?"

"Normally we have them enter the cubicles before the witnesses enter-"

"Witnesses?" Bill interrupted.

"The people who watch from the gallery are considered legal witnesses under the law that governs our operation," Mrs. Justine clarified.

"Ah, yes. I do recall reading that," Bill commented in a bland voice.

The armadillo femfur's ears perked up. Something in Bill's tone indicated to Mattie that he had read a lot more in that law as well.

"As I was saying," Mrs. Justine continued blithely, "we typically have the delinquents enter first, the witnesses enter second, and we start the punishments as soon as everyfur is seated and ready. Normally, that takes about ten minutes from start to finish. We reversed the order today to accommodate your show and ensure a prompt start.

"Since the witnesses are already here and ready to go, we can start at any time," Mrs. Justine finished.

"Then we might as well begin now. After all, time is money, and we do not want to waste corporate dollars just sitting around," Bill replied.

Mattie heard a button click and Mrs. Justine said, "Jim, begin the punishment sequence for Punishment Room One."

A slightly tinny voice replied, "Yes, Ma'am."

After a momentary pause, Bill said, "The first cubicle door has opened."

In the background, Mattie could hear the computer voice directing the youngster to the dais and giving him a countdown to get into position. It eerily reminded her of her own time in the Punishment Room.

Bill informed the radio listeners, "We have a twelve-year-old male bandicoot His parents sent him here for a Blue Level punishment. What punishment will he receive, Mrs. Justine?"

"The Blue Level is our lowest level. He will receive a spanking with a small paddle. It is similar to a ping pong paddle in size but thinner and therefore not as heavy."

Bill asked, "For those at home who cannot see and are not familiar with DCCF procedures, can you please describe how the paddling will be delivered, Mrs. Justine?"

"We use one hundred percent robotics in our punishments. No fur is involved, so there can be no claims of child abuse by one of our employees," Mrs. Justine replied.

Mattie's bark of anger echoed off the walls of the small shed. The robots might protect the employees, but they delivered as much or more torture and abuse than a living fur could. The robots just conveniently sidestepped the legal and moral issue of cub sexual abuse.

Bill began a play-by-play account of what was happening on the punishment dais.

"The young male is now walking to the center of the Punishment Room where there is a raised platform. The platform is about three feet high and fifteen feet in diameter.

"He seems rather intimidated and scared at the sight of the crowd. Mrs. Justine."

"Most of our youngest delinquents are," Mrs. Justine responded. "That is what makes this punishment so much more effective than a similar spanking at home. We find that mild public humiliation and peer pressure can be very effective at correcting bad behavior in young furs."

Mattie could hear the computer order the boy to turn around and bend over to receive his spanking.

Bill said, "Our first delinquent is in position, and a robotic arm with a small paddle is coming up out of the floor. He seems rather nervous, but he is staying in position. Now the spanking is beginning."

Mattie could hear the sound of ten measured swats to the bandicoot's buttocks. She did not hear him cry out. She could hear a growing rumble of approval from the gathered crowd. Apparently, they thought this was a good punishment for a wayward tween fur.

While the spanking was going on, the microphone went to somefur in the crowd. A strident female voice declared, "This is exactly what today's unruly young furs need! The paddle and cane were good enough for our parents. Why aren't they good enough for us? Give them some whacks on the behind to keep them in line! DCCF is doing a fine job and should be commended, not condemned."

The crowd roared its approval of the femfur's comments. Mattie had to turn her head away from the radio in disgust. It was one thing to correct and even punish, but another thing entirely to torture a helpless cub for the pleasure of the watching crowd.

A male voice said, "This isn't torture. Heck! My dad used to give me ten times worse, and look how I turned out!"

The male fur could not hear Mattie's derisive bark of laughter across the intervening distance. She probably should not be so judgmental, but he was a Rush listener watching young kids be disciplined at a pay-for-punishment facility.

The spanking ended, and the bandicoot returned to his cubicle. There were some derisive hoots directed at the young male from the audience, but nothing major.

"Next we have a young male squirrel," Bill said as the second cubicle opened. "He will be receiving a Green Level punishment. Mrs. Justine, what does this entail?"

Mattie listened to the computer ordering the male squirrel into position. She noted that the time he was being given was a lot longer than the ones she and the other girls had been given. She wondered about that.

"The Green Level is similar to the Blue Level except that the duration is longer, and we typically use a short leather slapper or belt for the punishment," Mrs. Justine explained. "It stings more but will not actually hurt much even after a full punishment."

"Will he be secured or required to undress partially or completely?" Bill asked.

"Absolutely not! Whatever gave you that idea?" Mrs. Justine asked in seeming shock.

"Well, there have been liberal leaning furs that make that accusation. I just wanted to clear it up by letting a representative of the DCCF set the record straight," Bill replied smoothly.

Mattie was surprised when Bill let the matter drop and instead described the punishment of the squirrel to the radio audience. He was getting a full three dozen strokes with a leather slapper. One of the technicians had apparently gotten a microphone or two close to the boy because she could now clearly hear the sound of leather striking fabric and the boy panting harder and harder as his punishment was delivered over the course of six minutes.

The time for the punishment allowed Bill to take more questions and comments from the audience.

Several furs voiced their support of the spanking and other punishments going on at the DCCF facility. One said she was a strict disciplinarian and would gladly support the DCCF. Two more condemned Mattie for killing furs over such trivial things like a mild spanking. That got Mattie's blood pressure up. Obviously, they had no clue what really happened in the Punishment Rooms.

Another asked Mrs. Justine, "Why aren't you giving him harder strokes? Those have to barely sting! And there is nothing wrong with giving them on a bare behind either!"

Mrs. Justine smoothly replied, "We have various levels of punishment, and there are strict limits on what can be given in the way of punishments. We also do not normally remove any clothing that would expose any male or female genetalia."

That got Mattie laughing almost uncontrollably. No, they would never expose "any" genetalia. They would expose it all to lewd public view!

After the second delinquent returned to his cubicle, Bill asked Mrs. Justine, "We are now moving onto our third delinquent. Can you tell us about his punishment, Mrs. Justine?"

"This will be a Yellow Level punishment. It is the highest level we permit for first-time delinquents, and the young male or female must be over the age of fourteen to receive this level of punishment."

Mattie shouted a bad word at the radio. She knew that was yet another lie. She had been ordered to receive an Orange Level punishment with specifications.

Mrs. Justine continued, "The delinquent will receive a hard spanking with a tawse. As when we moved from the Blue to Green Level, the number of strokes will also be increased. We will also increase the strength of the strokes. That is why this can only be given to the older teenagers that come to our facilities."

"The raccoon is fully clothed. Just to confirm this point, will he be required to disrobe?" Bill asked.

"No."

Bill gave a little laugh and said, "What can I say? The nudity alleged to occur here is just another urban legend spread by the liberal media and the Internet to discredit a fine corporation!"

There was a lot of hooting from the audience.

Mattie's heart sank. Bill was playing softball with Mrs. Justine about the DCCF practices. By the end of the show, she was going to look like an outright liar. She had hoped that he was on her side or at least interested in the truth. It was just a pipedream. She considered turning off the radio, but there was still Rush's punishment in an hour or so. It would be worth all the crap she was likely going to take between now and then to hear him get even this ridiculously easy beating.

The raccoon was brought to the central dais and ordered to bend over and lift his tail. A few moments later Mattie could hear the steady sound of leather applied to well-covered buttocks. Initially the boy grunted with each stroke, but there were no screams or other cries with each stroke. It was obvious that, while more severe than the preceding punishments, this was nothing serious like Dena had endured so many times.

The microphone went back to the audience, and several of Rush's fans commented on how much they were enjoying their time at the DCCF facility and how they thought that the DCCF was doing a great job. A couple said that stronger methods should be implemented to "make sure that these unruly teens get the message!"

The raccoon's punishment lasted almost fifteen minutes. Mattie did not count the strokes, but it had to be well over fifty. By the end of his punishment, the raccoon had cried out several times as the thin leather tails of the tawse struck his behind even with the padding afforded his bottom by his pants. She could hear him snuffling throughout much of his punishment. The armadillo was not sure if she was glad or mad that he was not receiving a full punishment.

There was a pause for a commercial break and station identification before the fourth delinquent made his appearance. Mattie grabbed some food and drink and settled in to listen to the rest of the show. She wondered if she was being hypocritical listening to punishments after calling all the watchers at the DCCF sadistic pedophiles. She was not deriving any sexual pleasure from them. She was listening to learn what was happening and to hear the opinions being expressed rather than to hear the boys be spanked. It might be a rationalization, but she did not feel like she was saying one thing and doing another by listening to the show.

The Rush Rattus Show returned.

Bill started the segment by saying, "Our fourth delinquent is a seventeen-year-old dog fox. He will be receiving an Orange Level punishment. Mrs. Justine, can you explain what this will involve?"

Mrs., Justine explained, "The Orange Level is the highest level we administer at the DCCF. We go from a spanking to a flogging with a strap. We do not recommend this, but it can be administered to repeat seventeen- and eighteen-year-old delinquents if the guardian and the DCCF staff believe that it will improve the behavior of the delinquent cub."

"And will the delinquent be stripped?" Bill asked in an almost bored voice.

"No, but we give the guardians the option at this level to have the male remove their shirt and anything else they are wearing above their waist. The fox's guardian has selected that option even though we counseled against it," Mrs. Justine replied.

"Will he be restrained?" Bill asked with a bit more interest in his voice.

"Again, we have that as an option for the guardians to select," Mrs. Justine said. "We do not recommend it except in cases where the delinquent has a history of disobedience and fighting the direction of the DCCF and parents. Even then, we only secure them lightly."

Mattie knew that a real Orange Level requires a delinquent teen to be bound tightly to stop them from being knocked off the dais from the force of the blows let alone trying to run away from the pain that was being inflicted.

Mrs. Justine continued, "In this case, the guardian has selected to have him restrained which is why we chose him for today's show. It will give your listeners an idea of the worst possible punishment we deliver at the DCCF.

"So, as you can see, there are two posts being raised from beneath the dais. There are robotic cuffs on the columns. They will secure the delinquents arms in place above his head on either side. This way he cannot move easily but is not in an overly uncomfortable position."

Mattie could hear the computer instructing the fox in what to do. He must be complying immediately since the process went quickly and smoothly.

Mrs. Justine finished by saying, "There is some benefit to using restraints. They have the advantage of ensuring that the delinquent will not accidentally be hurt because they moved at an inopportune time."

Mattie snorted. She knew that the DCCF wanted to make sure that only the pain that they desired to be inflicted occurred. The trouble for the teens being punished was that it was far too much.

Bill told the listeners, "For those not here, the fox is now standing in the center of the dais. His arms are secured above his head. He has stripped-"

"We prefer disrobed," Mrs. Justine interjected.

"-disrobed from the waist up. He is facing away from the audience. A mechanical arm has risen from the dais. It has a doubled-up strap about two inches wide and two feet long on the end.

"The arm is moving into position. The robot is lifting the strap..."

Mattie heard the crack of the strap hitting the back of the fox. She was surprised that it was so loud. The fox actually cried out in pain from the stroke. Mattie also heard a note of surprise in his yelp. It sounded like he was not expecting such a hard blow.

Bill said, "The punishment is starting as you probably heard.

"Mrs. Justine, how many strokes will the young man receive?"

"He has been assigned twenty strokes," Mrs. Justine replied.

"Who assigns the number of strokes?" Bill asked.

"The guardian has the ultimate responsibility," Mrs. Justine explained. "However, we counsel them and try to minimize the punishment to a level that, given the severity of the flogging, is actually suitable for the offense."

Mattie had seen the truth. The DCCF wanted as much pain inflicted as possible through the time limit violations and "specifications". They had no mercy or feelings of pity towards the cubs. It was all about satisfying the watching perverts in the gallery that hung on every scream and drop of blood.

"How long will this go on?" Bill inquired.

"For males, we find that the length of time for the punishment and the time spent before the witnesses is a crucial part of the punishment process. Here the strokes will be delivered every thirty seconds, so the total length of time for the punishment will be ten minutes with the wait at the end after the twentieth stroke."

"Good, that gives us some time to discuss a few items," Bill said in an almost happy tone.

Mattie's attention had been drifting away from the show. At this point the only reason she wanted to listen was to see if she would get the satisfaction of hearing Rush give a tiny yell when the strap hit his flesh. Something in Bill's tone returned her full attention to the radio show.

"Let's start with the bill that authorized the creation of the DCCF and its substitution for the Juvenile Court system," Bill said. Mattie heard a sudden underlying steel in his tone.

"That was a great piece of innovative legislation that is saving the taxpayers millions in court expenses, jails, and intervention programs," Mrs. Justine replied blithely. She had apparently missed the subtle change in Bill's tone.

"Perhaps," Bill replied skeptically. "But I want to highlight the punishments authorized in the bill and what we have seen here today.

"The Blue Level is described as a mild spanking with a small wooden paddle, a deerskin tawse or equivalent with no nudity permitted. Those under thirteen-year-old normally cannot be given a higher level.

"Correct?"

"I believe that is correct," Mrs. Justine replied. "I have not read the entire bill in detail, just our lawyers' summaries."

Mattie could hear a hint of wariness in her voice. She had not expected Bill to pull out the language of the law and quiz her about it. Hearing her tone, Mattie suspected that the vixen was lying. She likely knew the entire law intimately. The armadillo teen had to wonder what was in the fine print of that law.

"Green Level is a medium spanking with belt, birch rods, tawse or similar. Interestingly the legislation specifically states that the punishment 'shall be given upon bare buttocks for both male and female cubs'.

"Why was our Green Level delinquent still wearing his pants?" Bill asked pointedly.

"These are guidelines, not requirements," Mrs. Justine said in a slightly flustered tone that made Mattie smile

"Actually my research staff assures me that they are requirements. They are also what you were advertising up to three days ago on your Web site," Bill said.

There was a pregnant pause.

Mrs. Justine finally replied, "I- I'm not sure what you mean. Mr. Jackson. Our Web site clearly states that these are what can be done, not what we suggest. We even hide some of the points in the fine print or through references to help protect the cubs that are brought here."

Bill bore in by saying, "The current Web site does say that, but when Matilda Villosus was here, your Web site said very different things. We retrieved your old Web site and compared it to what Mattie has alleged was occurring in this and other Punishment Rooms. We found what was publicly advertised for your punishments very closely matched what was in the bill and consistent with the general allegations made by Matilda."

Mattie practically cheered. Bill had not been deceived. She did not know what Rush did or did not know or think, but at least Bill was getting the truth out. It might not help Mattie, but it would definitely help turn the tide against the DCCF and hopefully avoid more cubs being abused.

The audience seemed confused. They listened and did not know if they should be mad at Mrs. Justine or Bill. Many seemed to favor Mrs. Justine and the harsher methods that the DCCF had used.

"We have options available," Mrs. Justine replied slowly. Mattie thought it likely she was talking through clenched teeth.

"That does not mean that the guardians must select them. The DCCF works with the guardians to keep the punishment as light as possible in the hopes that the delinquents will be chastised and change their ways with a minimum of correction. Only in the worst cases of repeat offenders above the age of sixteen do we seriously entertain the upper level punishments such as is currently occurring here."

"I am sure that you do have options," Bill replied calmly. "But we are discussing what is in the law and what you were advertising three days ago.

"I asked you about the cubs stripping down or 'disrobing' as you prefer. In the law, everything above Blue Level allows complete nudity. The law encourages it for the Green and Yellow punishments and requires it for the upper level punishments. That is an interesting point given that the delinquents are all underage cubs and forcing them to strip outside the DCCF for a paying audience would probably constitute a crime.

"The bill authorizes hard spanking with a cane, switch and/or crop at the Yellow Level. Orange Level goes to a full flogging with a cat-o-nine tails or a heavy strap, perhaps like what is being used now.

"The bill also authorizes a fifth level, one that you dropped from your advertising and did not acknowledge as existing today. Hence our empty tenth cubicle. The Red Level is a full prison punishment by flogging with a bullwhip, cable and similar instrument for 'inflicting severe and lasting pain'."

Bill continued to bore into the flabbergasted DCCF Public Relations Head

"At all levels, even Blue, full bondage is also authorized and, above Green level, required. The amount of strokes that can be given is also left strictly to the guardian and DCCF's discretion. The guidelines in the law include an upper limit of over one hundred strokes at the Yellow and Orange Levels. The Red Level has no upper limit at all.

"Both the law and what you were publicly advertising sound very consistent with first-person accounts we have received from cubs that claim to have been punished here.

"So why does DCCF provide a flagellation spectacle featuring nude, bound teenage cubs up to four times per day?" Bill concluded.

"I have no clue what you are suggesting, Mr. Jackson," Mrs. Justine spluttered.

"We'll leave aside the morality of this, Mrs. Justine, since the state legislature and the Governor granted you the legal right to do these things."

Mattie nearly screamed. How could Bill just ignore the pedophilic implications? There were even a few rumblings from the audience. Morality was a key issue with Rush's fans, and, while they approved of discipline, nude cub shows were another matter.

"I do find it interesting that these teens today are so compliant and not receiving full punishments," Bill stated.

"We use excellent training and management here at DCCF,' Mrs. Justine promptly responded. She seemed to be trying to get control of the situation again.

"We train our people very carefully in how to identify problems and ensure compliance with minimal stress to the delinquents. They are taught to appear to befriend and sympathize with the teens as a way to gain their trust and cooperation.

"The results may appear to be a compliant cub, but it is really just good work on the part of our DCCF staff!"

The audience seemed to be back on Mrs. Justine's side. There were some very vocal support of her and the DCCF's methods,

"Perhaps," Bill said doubtfully. "But might it also have something to do with the fact that all eight of these teens are cubs of high-level DCCF managers and executives? Might they be under their parents' orders to act in this manner to make the DCCF look good? And might the punishments be greatly reduced to ensure that their cubs are not actually hurt unlike those brought here for the punishments in the law?"

"How did you-" Mrs. Justine exclaimed in shock before she rapidly shut her muzzle. The damage was already done, though.

Bill said, "We may not be responsible for the selection of the eight teens to be punished, but we are responsible for the content of the show. We wanted to get releases from all eight families to allow us to use their experiences on the show.

"Imagine our surprise when our research staff started to see the same last names for the delinquents as those they found on the DCCF organizational chart. It did not take them long to link all eight with DCCF upper management.

"Your son, for example, is being flogged right now, Mrs. Justine."

"What are you insinuating?! Why would I have my own son punished this severely?"

"A very good question! And one that we asked ourselves as well," Bill replied enthusiastically.

Mattie could hear a few more murmur of discontent from the studio audience. They had turned their attention from the fox to the commentators. They were not sure that they approved of a mother who had her son flogged if it was to protect her job.

"Let's talk economics," Bill said.

That stopped Mattie dead in her tracks. She had never fully considered the economic implications of the DCCF. She was sure that they were making a good profit, but now she wondered how much money they actually brought in at these facilities. She was suddenly very interested in what Bill had to say.

Bill started spelling out the magnitude of the DCCF's income.

"Every DCCF facility has ten Punishment Rooms. Each room can process ten delinquent teens per session. Each teen's guardian must pay $250 for the 'privilege' to have their teen punished by the DCCF. That alone brings in $25,000 per session, and you run three or four sessions per day, seven days per week."

"That just means we are a valuable service and recognized as such by frustrated parents with incorrigible teenagers!" Mrs. Justine shouted.

"Perhaps, but we are still looking at a minimum of $75,000 per day coming into each DCCF facility from these fees. It works out to twenty-seven million dollars if you operate three hundred sixty days per year," Bill said.

Mattie gave a low whistle. That was a pretty good chunk of change!

"And, of course, that is for only one facility. You currently have fifteen with ten more being built and plans announced for another dozen."

"We project revenue decreases as the teens become more compliant with their parents instruction," Mrs. Justine replied. It was obvious that she was shaken by Bill revealing how much money DCCF was making from the whipping of naked young butts, but she was working hard to regain the upper paw and get in control of the situation.

Unfortunately for the DCCF, she was not succeeding. Bill knew the facts, and he was getting them out to all the show's listeners.

"True, but the real cash cow is not the punishment payments. It is the audience tickets or, as you like to call them, 'witness fees'.

"When we originally investigated the possibility of doing this show, one of our researchers called your box office. She was told that the tickets for the show would cost us one hundred fifty dollars.

"Each.

"There are four hundred and fifty seats in each Punishment Room. We were informed that it was best to buy our tickets immediately because the sessions 'normally sold out early'.

"Doing a little math, if you run three sessions per day for the same three hundred sixty days per year, you would reap an income of two hundred forty-three million dollars per facility. With your current fifteen facilities alone, that gives DCCF an estimated gross income of over three point six billion dollars from ticket sales. Because of the law, you do not pay property taxes or any other taxes and are treated as the equivalent of a government facility, which also helps to cut your costs and keep your net income high.

"You are also poised to more than double that amount in a year. Being privately held, the profits will almost certainly go primarily to top executives like you and the others who 'volunteered' their teen boys for today's little demonstration.

"Maybe that is why your son is being flogged right now, Mrs. Justine. It would not even surprise me to learn that he willingly agreed to it since the profits of the DCCF are padding his trust fund very nicely. The loss of that income might mean he would have to work for a living someday after the trust fund ran out."

There was a notable silence from Mrs. Justine. Mattie could still hear the steady slap of leather on bare back followed by a yip on pain every thirty seconds in the background, but she also heard a growing rumble from the audience. They had a certain suspicion of "Big Business" and "The Rich", and now it appeared that there might be some reason to doubt the DCCF and its spokesfur.

"But enough of that!" Bill said with considerable energy. "That was the last stroke of the belt for your son. We will now go to commercial break and your local news.

"Coming up after the break, four more punishments with additional commentary provided by a special mystery guest! Then, the big finale of our own beloved Rush Rattus undergoing his punishment.

"Back in ten minutes!"

The radio started blaring out commercials. Mattie shook her head. Bill had neatly undercut the DCCF without quite actually accusing them of lying or cheating on anything. From the viewpoint of the show and its ratings, he had hooked Mattie and no doubt the studio and radio audience with his last little teaser. They were all left wondering whom the mystery commentator could be and what Rush would face at the end of the show. While they waited impatiently, they had to listen to the seemingly endless commercials that brought in the show's revenue.

The news was uninformative for the most part. As much as she knew that there were things occurring in the world besides her, she wanted to get as much information pertaining to her plight as possible. She had been demoted to the second segment now. The Police Chief came on and said that the policefurs were closing in on Mattie. She shook a little bit at that. She was not sure if it was just false bravado to satisfy an angry populace or the truth. Either way, eventually the police were going to find her. The Rush Rattus Show might reveal some or perhaps even the full truth of the DCCF facilities, but Mattie was still looking at three counts of first-degree murder and an armed assault charge at a minimum. The police were not going to stop until they caught or killed her.

Mattie sighed. She had to assume that the police were getting closer. She just hoped they did not break down the door to her shed in the next one to two hours so she could listen to the rest of the show and Rattus getting a beating!

Silently Mattie cursed Bill for getting her so interested in what was to come. She had to admit that he had orchestrated a good show that was now keeping her attention riveted to the radio. She idly wondered if he needed an intern. She liked him, and it would be interesting to learn from a master even if Rattus was more of an ass than a rat.

The last commercial of the break played. There was a second or so of silence before Bill came back on the air.

"This is The Rush Rattus Show, coming to you live today from the DCCF facility where fugitive murderess Matilda Villosus shot and killed three DCCF guard furs as well as seriously wounding her uncle.

"Today Rush Rattus is taking up Matilda's challenge and stepping into the lion's den by subjecting himself to one of the punishments given out by the DCCF.

"Rush, what are your thoughts so far?" Bill asked as he went to the host of the show via his wireless earpiece and microphone.

Rattus' voice replied, "Well, Bill, so far I would say that the punishments are hardly earth-shattering. Like my loyal fans commented-"

The house erupted in cheers as Rush mentioned them.

"-this is not even as bad as what we got at home growing up. We don't have teens killing their parents at home every time they get a little spanking. Matilda Villosus went way over the line.

"And as far as using DCCF management's teens, it just goes to show how benign these punishments are. What mother would put their cub in harm's way? The law and perhaps the DCCF guidelines might allow more, and I doubt that, but these teens are receiving just and fair punishments. They are perfectly safe, and their parents know it!"

"That's right, Mr. Rattus!" Mrs. Justine chimed in. "Despite what Mr. Jackson may be insinuating, we are just presenting the truth about the DCCF."

"I am sure that you are, Mrs. Justine," Rush replied. His words brought a rousing cheer from the studio audience.

"Now let's get the rest of the teens taken care of so that I can get my 'punishment' in before I die of boredom! Do you know what it is like to be on my own show and not able to talk?!"

That brought a massive cheer of support for Rush mixed with laughter over his wisecrack from the crowd. After ten seconds, they started chanting, "Rush! Rush! Rush!" again.

"Alright, Rush," Bill said tolerantly as the crowd noise started to die down some. "To be fair and consistent with what the teens face, we have to cut you off again, but we will hear from you again in about an hour. Until then, try not to fall asleep!"

There was a huge laugh from Rush's fans at Bill's quip. Mattie might not have been through a full punishment session, but she was certain that no teen undergoing the true punishments had ever gone to sleep from boredom. Passed out from fear, perhaps, but never gone to sleep from boredom!

When the laughter died down, Bill said, "Now it is time to introduce our mystery guest commentator.

"She is a seventeen-year-old coyote from the local area. She is a classmate of Matilda Villosus at Central high School. She is a foster child living locally with her court-appointed guardians. Over the past few months since the opening of this DCCF facility, she has been a frequent visitor to the Punishment Rooms where she has experienced all levels of punishment except the Blue Level.

"Here to give us her personal insight into what is occurring is Dena Latrans!"

"WHAT?!" Mrs. Justine screamed into the microphone. It was obvious that she had never expected this turn of events.

Mattie's jaw dropped. Her friend was going onto The Rush Rattus Show? This had Bill Jackson's paws written all over it! Rush would never allow Dena anywhere near a microphone on his show. He had even managed to isolate Rush in the cubicle with no way to talk or interact with Dena to intimidate or harangue her.

Mrs. Justine quickly recovered and interjected, "We never agreed to this! No teen should be allowed on this show!"

"Why?" Bill calmly asked.

"She is underage and likely a liar!" Mrs. Justine spat.

"Being underage does not make her unfit to give her opinion based upon what has happened to her here or to relate what she underwent in these Punishment Rooms. You will have the opportunity to refute any claim that she makes as well if you wish to do so.

"She stays," Bill said flatly. It was clear that he was not going to budge on this point.

Mattie could almost hear the gnashing of Mrs. Justine's teeth. She did hear the rumble of discontent from the studio audience.

"Miss Latrans, welcome to The Rush Rattus Show," Bill said cordially. Apparently, Dena had walked into the room and sat down at the commentators' table while Bill was talking with Mrs. Justine.

"Thank you, Mr. Jackson," Dena replied. Mattie was surprised how happy her friend sounded. She had been depressed and almost suicidal since her foster parents started to send her to the DCCF facility for punishment as frequently as they could. For the first time in months, the young coyote femfur sounded like the vibrant friend Mattie had made when she first came to Central High School a year ago.

Bill got the show rolling again by saying, "We have the fifth delinquent, a twelve-year-old Afghan Hound, ready for his Blue Level punishment. As with the bandicoot, he will be spanked with a small paddle.

"To keep the show moving along, let's get his punishment started, Mrs. Justine."

Reluctantly Mrs. Justine agreed. Mattie could hear the crowd noise increase. She was surprised to hear a cheerful young voice call out, "Hi, Mom! I'm on the radio show!" It had to be the youngster. Unlike every other fur she knew that had been to the DCCF, the boy seemed happy to be there.

The dog's punishment started quickly as he willingly took his position. Mattie suspected that he was hamming it up for the audience with his yips of pain and obviously fake crying. It provided a backdrop to who Mattie really wanted to hear, her friend.

"Miss, Latrans, we have you here today to provide expert commentary from the viewpoint of a delinquents undergoing punishment at these facilities. To establish your credentials, can you please give us a little bit of information about your trips to this DCCF facility?"

"Over the past three months, since my foster parents were first directed to the DCCF by my case worker at Cub Services, I have been here twenty-three times. I have been assigned three Green, ten Yellow and ten Orange Level punishments. I have received one Green, eight Yellow, eleven Orange and three Red Level punishments," Dena said.

Mattie cringed at the sheer number of punishment sessions her friend had to endure.

"How can you be assigned one punishment and given another?" Bill asked curiously.

"If you are slow, uncooperative, break some rule you may not even be aware of or in any way offend DCCF personnel, they have the authority to increase your punishment.

"Likewise the computer is programmed to change punishments if any rule is broken. It can also add strokes and other things," Dena explained.

"The computer, a mere machine, can increase your punishment?" Bill asked. There was a hint of incredulousness in his voice.

"Yes."

There was a bit of uncomfortable muttering from the crowd. They did not like a machine making such decisions.

"But only with cause!" Mrs. Justine said loudly.

"Yes," Dena responded, "but just about anything is 'cause'."

Bill ignored Mrs. Justine and continued to interview Dena.

"Let's talk about the punishments we are observing, Miss Latrans. You have never been subject to a Blue Level punishment, but have you seen them dispensed to other cubs?"

"Yes. They are not common. Just about anyone coming here is lucky to get away with just a Green."

Bill asked, "Would you say that, based upon your experience, this is a reasonable Blue Level punishment in terms of the instrument used, the number of strokes and the severity of the blows?"

There was a pause. Mattie held her breath. How would Dena respond?

"Yes, I would say that this is a typical Blue punishment based upon my personal observations."

"There!" Mrs. Justine gloated triumphantly. "You see, we are not lying at all. Even this repeat delinquent admits that this is a typical punishment!"

"No, I said that the strokes were typical.

"But Blue punishments are almost never given this way," Dena

Mattie wondered if Dena would get into specifications and the restraints used upon the cubs, but Bill cut her off.

"And that concludes the fifth punishment. The young cub received his ten whacks with a paddle. He is returning to his cubicle now. He seems to be in good shape even if he is balling his eyes out.

"What do you think about that punishment, audience?" Bill asked loudly. Mattie noted critically that he also neatly deflected attention away from what Dena had said.

There were a good many hoots and other sounds of approval. Apparently, the watching furs were enjoying the show and liked what was being given out to the teens.

There was brief pause in the action as the next teenager, a fourteen-year-old ferret boy, made his way to the dais for a Green level punishment.

"Miss Latrans, you have had three Green level punishments assigned to you and received one. Can you tell us a little but about what it was like?"

"Well, for starters, it was a lot chillier for me than this ferret," Dena commented wryly.

"How so?" asked Bill.

"All of the Green punishments I have ever seen have been 'bare bottom'. We were always forced to strip from the waist down, and most of the time cubs somehow manage to lose the rest of their clothes as well."

"Disrobing is an option, not a requirement!" Mrs. Justine said hotly.

Almost sarcastically, Dena replied, "It seemed like everyone selected that option.

"And if we didn't like it, we got a Yellow punishment instead!"

Bill inquired, "Miss Latrans, when you were given your Green punishment, were you standing with your bottom towards the audience with your tail lifted?"

"Yes," Dena answered.

"Interesting," Bill commented thoughtfully. "That would give the audience a rather explicit view of you, especially since you were not wearing any clothing covering your behind."

Mattie wanted to hug Bill for pointing out the sexual aspect of Dena's punishment.

"Did you just stand there for your punishment?" Bill asked

"The third time I had a Green, yes." Dena replied.

"The first two times I made the mistake of not staying as still during my beating as the computer wanted. Underneath the little platform seems to be an infinite number of devices. The first time I was too 'physically active', I was strapped onto a spanking bench. The second time I was bent over a horse. Both times I was raised to Yellow Level as well."

"You were only restrained because you were misbehaving! You should have just stood there and taken your punishment!" Mrs. Justine said hotly.

"I was scared shitless after standing in the cubicle half naked for almost two hours watching the others get tortured while the audience got off on their pain!" Dena yelled back at Mrs. Justine.

Bill broke in and said, "Ladies! Please keep this civil."

There was a pause before Bill continued.

"Miss Latrans, would you say that this Green Level punishment meets your understanding of what should be given?"

"No, the ferret still has his pants on."

"Is it consistent with what you have typically seen during your trips here?"

"No, it is not. Most cubs, even those getting a Green, are bound in some manner. Also, the severity and number of the blows is less than I would expect."

Bill asked, "Mrs. Justine, do you disagree with Miss Latrans?"

"Of course I so! The DCCF has the best interests of the cubs in mind. Her claims are baseless and false. As I said at the beginning, she is a liar!"

"Yet her description and comments are consistent with the letter of the law, your old advertising and first furson accounts we have obtained," Bill observed.

There was a pregnant pause.

Bill broke the silence by going to the audience. Mattie was not sure why he kept letting Mrs. Justine and the DCCF off the hook so easily by changing the subject. It was infuriating her!

"Let's hear from some of our audience members.

"Do you think that a bare bottom spanking with a belt would be an appropriate punishment for a twelve- or thirteen-year-old cub?" Bill quizzed the watching audience.

A female voice replied, "Yes, I do! We coddle our cubs far too much. This will help toughen them up. And if they don't want to cooperate, go ahead and tie them down."

A male took the microphone next. In a stumbling voice he said, "I'm not so sure.

"I'm all in favor of discipline, and I do believe in 'Spare the rod, spoil the cub,', but public nudity and spanking? Especially with their... Well, you know! Their 'junk' on display to paying customers?

"I'm not so sure about that."

Mattie cheered. It was the first clear crack in the support of the DCCF by the studio audience.

It did not last. Three more furs took the microphone and gave their unconditional support to the DCCF. One even said that, after watching what was happening here, she was going to bring her son to the DCCF tomorrow. He needed some serious attitude adjustment before he became an incurable, sullen teen. The female armadillo felt a bit sorry for the unknown male cub. His mother sounded like one of the adults that provided so many of the DCCF's young victims.

The show went to station break and commercials. Mattie took the opportunity to grab another drink. She really wished that she had something cold, maybe even a beer, but she had to settle for warm water. It did not matter. She was too interested in the show to even think about going out to grab something.

After the station break, Bill came back on air.

"We're back with The Rush Rattus Show!" Bill said cheerfully.

"For those joining us late, today we are at the DCCF facility where murderess Matilda Villosus shot and killed three DCCF guards. Taking up Mattie's challenge, Rush will be undergoing a typical Yellow Level punishment for a seventeen-year-old male fur.

"So far we have seen six delinquents punished. Providing expert commentary, from the DCCF is Mrs. Justine, head of their PR Department."

"Hello, everyfur!" Mrs. Justine said cheerfully. Mattie could barely detect a strained note in her voice. She had to be a bit worried about what was happening here. At least she seemed to have recovered her composure during the station break. Mattie wished that she could have been privy to what happened between her and Dena while the show was off the air. It likely would have been an interesting conversation if Bill allowed them free rein.

"And joining us for the past two punishments, we have Miss Dena Latrans, a frequent visitor to the DCCF to undergo punishment, providing insights from the viewpoint of the delinquent teens"

"Good afternoon," Dena said quietly. Mattie noted that she sounded at ease, calm and confident. She was not shaken by her location of the vixen sharing the microphone with her.

Bill announced, "We are moving on to our seventh punishment. This time we have a sixteen-year-old cervid buck. He will be receiving a Yellow Level punishment consisting of forty strokes with a cane to his rear end.

"Miss Latrans, would you consider this a typical Yellow Level punishment?" Bill asked.

"The cane and the number are about right. He should be completely stripped, though. He also should be on a spanking bench, bent over a horse or otherwise restrained."

"Again, that is only an option, and DCCF does not encourage such punishments!' Mrs. Justine responded hotly.

Dena sniffed and replied, "I have never seen a Yellow without the girl stripped and bent over something. Most of the time we get fifty or more strokes specified. I have had well over one hundred twice as they piled on strokes for minor infractions like cursing."

Mrs. Justine countered, "It is important that cubs be properly respectful, even when being punished. DCCF has a strict 'No Cursing Allowed' policy which is explained to each and every fur that enters our system for punishment."

"Yes, you do tell us about it," Dena conceded. Mattie recalled it being listed in the long form she had to read and sign.

Dena continued, "But it is pretty hard to not say something when the cane cuts your flesh. I guess you just want us to lay there screaming for your enjoyment!"

Before Mrs. Justine could say anything, Bill slipped in a question.

"Are you saying that the cane was used with sufficient force to cut your skin?"

"'Cut my skin'? Heck, I had more than one session where my bottom looked like someone had taken a brush, drawn blood-red red lines all over it, and then thrown the bucket of paint on top. I dripped blood all the way back to the cubicle. My legs were covered in it.

"Those were some of the better ones, though. The bad ones were when they used the cane and other things on my breasts and cut them to shreds."

The young armadillo listening to the radio miles from the DCCF Punishment Room could clearly hear the gasps of several furs in the audience.

"Miss Latrans, are you saying that the DCCF used a cane to strike your breasts as a punishment?" Bill asked in a shocked tone. Mattie thought that this was the first time that the severity of what happened inside the DCCF Punishment Rooms really came home to him. He may have read the law and accounts of what happened there, but now he was muzzle-to-muzzle with a living, breathing victim and had to confront the truth.

"Sure. It is common for the females to get beaten on the breasts. They are more sensitive than our butts. Everyone knows that, and besides, the audience likes to see breast beatings.

"Not that our buns got away scot-free. The DCCF likes to spread the pain around. Normally the punishments start with a warm up with us bent forward and getting caned on the ass. Sometimes they'll do our backs first while we are still standing and then move down. After a couple dozen strokes, the robots flip us over and they go to work on our breasts. I've been beaten on my thighs, arms and abdomen as well."

Dena added in a quizzical voice, "I'm not sure what they do to the boys..."

There was more than a little bit of angry muttering in the background. Most of the voices appeared to be female. The woman in the audience at least could appreciate what it would be like to have their breasts caned.

"Strange, Mrs. Justine, I do not recall breast whipping being covered by the law. That would seem to make it illegal. Would you care to educate all of us on that point?" Bill asked.

There was a pause of several seconds before Mrs. Justine replied in a small voice, "It's in there."

"What was that, Mrs. Justine?" Bill pressed the DCCF representative.

Mrs. Justine said in a frustrated voice, "I said, 'It's in there.'! Okay? The appendices cover all of the possible punishments we can give out legally.

"But we never exceed what is legally allowed!" Mrs. Justine said in a loud voice.

"Of course not," Bill said smoothly. "You are interested in what is best for the cubs, after all.'

Mattie could just detect a hint of sarcasm in Bill's voice. She was really starting to warm to this male. She was sorry that she would be dead before she could meet him.

"Our buck is nearing the end of his caning. Let's go to the audience for some quick comments."

The first audience member was a male.

"I support caning, but I don't know about a hundred strokes, and certainly not on a girl's young breasts," he said almost hesitantly. Mattie heard just a hint of curiosity in his voice when he mentioned a young female's breasts. He might not approve of it, but he seemed to have some curiosity about watching some breasts being beaten.

The next fur, a female, echoed his sentiments.

"Discipline is good for young furs! They need correction when they do wrong! Caning is not out of the question either!"

Reluctantly she added, "But a hundred strokes or even fifty sounds a lot like too much for just discipline. And on the breasts? That's not discipline."

Others in the audience maintained a much harder line.

"The youth of today are out of control! Just look at what that crazy armadillo female did! Three dead and her uncle in the hospital with no hope of ever having cubs thanks to her!"

Mattie snickered. Of everything that had happened, about the only thing she did not regret was shooting off Uncle Bobby's balls. She would have done it again in a heartbeat if he or anyone else were stupid enough to try to rape her.

"We need more, not less discipline!" the male continued to a spattering of loud cheers. "Cane these rascals if they won't behave! And if the breasts are the best place to do it, bend the girls back and lay on the strokes!"

A femfur added, "I think that they need to go ahead and strip the delinquents if that's what the law allows. Let them taste the cane and tawse like they were meant to be given!

"Besides," The femfur continued in an undertone with a noticeable purr, "the buck's pretty good looking."

Mattie nearly rolled over laughing. She wondered if the femfur was a cougar. She certainly sounded like one, regardless of her actual species!

Bill broke in and said, "And that concludes the second Yellow Level punishment. The buck boy is now returning to his cubicle to wait out the rest of the punishment session.

"Coming up after the station break and local news, our second Orange Level punishment and our finale, the punishment of Rush Rattus!

Mattie grabbed another candy bar and sat back. She half listened to the commercials and the repeat of last hour's newscast. It was getting close now. Rush might not get the real thing, but he was at least going to be up on the dais getting his butt beaten a bit, just as Dena had endured so many times. She just hoped it would be humiliating for him.

The news ended, and The Rush Rattus Show returned.

Bill's voice said, "Welcome back to The Rush Rattus Show! I am Bill Jackson, sitting in for Rush while he is undergoing a DCCF punishment.

"Rush, how are you doing?"

"I'm getting bored, Bill!" the host's voice replied.

"Well, it won't be much longer, Rush," Bill said.

"Any thoughts on what we have seen so far?" Bill inquired.

"Eh, nothing too much. The Orange level might be a bit much, but that's just for the older delinquents who earned it, so I'm not too worried about the DCCF doing it. It's always good to have a little something extra in your arsenal when it comes to molding fine, upstanding, law-abiding young citizens.

"Right, listeners?"

The audience erupted in whoops of approval intermixed with chants of "Rush! Rush! Rush!"

"Well, Rush," Bill said when the hoopla died down, "it's your turn after the next station break, so you best get ready for your caning!"

"Piece of cake!" the confident host replied.

Bill said, "Okay, we are shutting you back down and moving on.

"Our final male delinquent is a seventeen-year-old bison bull. He will be receiving an Orange Level punishment.

"Dena, you have been through many Orange Level punishments. Tell us a bit about your experience."

"They're bad. Not nearly as bad as the Reds, but bad," Dena said in a quavering voice. Mattie could tell that the memories of the Orange and Red punishments still scared Dena.

"You get stripped first. Most of the time they put you towards the end so you have to stand there watching what the others go through and thinking about what is going to happen when it is your turn."

Mrs. Justine interrupted by saying, "Contemplation of the errors of their ways is good for the delinquents! It allows them to fully understand the severity of their misdeeds."

"Yeah," Dena replied wryly, "and it also allows us to watch the others get their butts blistered and know you're next, but it's going to be even worse for you!"

"What is a typical punishment at this level?" Bill asked to forestall another verbal exchange between his co-commentators.

"Fifty to one hundred strokes delivered to each breast with a cat-o-nine tails, sometimes with metal tips. Before that, to warm us up, maybe forty or fifty strokes to our asses with a heavy strap like what the bison is getting," Dena replied.

"That sounds very severe and painful. How can you remain conscious throughout the punishment?" Bill inquired.

"They drug us," Dena replied almost indifferently. After going through it so much, it was almost a routine part of her life now to be injected with various DCCF drug mixes.

In the background, Mattie could hear some angry rumblings from the crowd.

"Drug you?" Bill asked in a stunned tone.

"Yeah, they give us drugs to prevent shock and keep us from passing out," Dena explained nonchalantly.

"Shock is a major concern with DCCF," Mrs. Justine quickly said. "We want to be sure that the delinquents do not suffer adverse physical effects from their punishments."

"The mental ones from the horrific pain are just fine for you, though, aren't they?" Dena spat at Mrs. Justine with considerable venom.

"Why you-" Mrs. Justine responded hotly.

"Ladies! Claws in!" Bill yelled.

Mattie could just imagine Bill staring down both angry femfurs.

After a few moments, Bill resumed.

"The bison bull has stripped from the waist up. This is the same as our first Orange Level subject. He is in position between the two posts. Like his predecessor, he is secured at the wrists in a standing position.

"Dena, would this be a typical position?"

Dena considered a moment and then opined, "Standing? Probably. It gives good access to both front and back for the robots.

"I always had my legs tied down someway as well. Any clothing I had would be long gone before I even got into the cubicle. None of this taking off your shirt when you get your punishment. You have to stand there naked for the entire time with all the pervs in the audience staring at you and waiting for it to be your turn to scream.

"A lot of times they put a bar between the posts, and they bend you forward over it for a butt beating or backwards when they want to whip your breasts. That really hurts because they bend you back almost double and keep you there for a long time. I've been there for about an hour. It is almost as bad as what happens to my breasts.

"When they decide to give you a pussy whipping, they have you face the audience and bend you backwards so every fur can see the whip hitting your cunt."

There were several cries of outrage from the audience. They were mostly from femfurs. Mattie suspected that more than a few were grabbing their crotches as the young armadillo was. Even though she knew what had happened to Dena, every time she heard the words "pussy whipping", knowing what Dena had endured, she felt sympathetic pains in her own crotch.

At least from the continued muttering of the audience Matte gathered that more than a few of the strict "disciplinarians" were unfazed by the latest revelation. Fortunately, many if not most of the audience seemed to be outraged at the thought of pussy whipping a seventeen-year-old coyote female for an hour or more. Perhaps the DCCF would find it harder to truly torture cubs in the future with revelations like this making their way to so many adult furs.

"Mrs. Justine," Bill interrupted, "I don't seem to recall 'pussy whipping' being in the law. Can you please clarify that point for us?"

There was a long silence before Mrs. Justine reluctantly replied in a quiet voice, "It's in there under genital punishments."

"Let me guess," Bill added in a sour voice. "It's in the appendices."

"Yes, but it is there! We are allowed to legally do it!" Mrs. Justine insisted.

"As part of an Orange Level punishment?"

There was another long silence.

"No."

"Really? Then when the heck can you do it?" Bill asked in an angry voice.

"When we give a Red Level punishment," Mrs. Justine replied in a small voice.

"I thought you never gave those," Bill said angrily. Mattie caught more than a bit of sarcasm in his voice as well.

The long silence was broken only by sound of the leather strap hitting the back of the bison bull and his grunts of pain. Everyone else was listening to Mrs. Justine.

"Mrs. Justine," Bill asked insistently, "do you or do you not give Red Level punishments at the DCCF, and do they or do they not involve striking the vagina of a female teenager with a cane, strap, tawse, whip or other instrument of punishment?"

After another long silence, Mrs. Justine replied, "We are legally entitled to give out Red Level punishments. The Legislature and the Governor have authorized it through the law creating us. They also authorized genital punishments of males and females at that level."

"The law that you lobbied for," Bill interjected pointedly.

"The law," Mrs. Justine bore on as if Bill had not interrupted her, "allows for the highest level punishment to be given to the most incorrigible delinquents such as Miss Latrans over there."

Mattie heard Dena's sharp intake of breath, but before she could say anything Bill said, "No personal attacks! If you do so again, I will cut off your microphone, Mrs. Justine!

"Do you understand as well, Miss Latrans?"

Apparently, Dena did because she said nothing. Mattie was certain she wanted to speak, though.

The show continued a second later.

"Miss Latrans, you said that you were facing the audience and bent backwards when you received your genital whipping. Didn't that present... Well, how can I put this...? Quite a sight to the watchers?"

"Yes, and they made it very clear that they enjoyed it. I could clearly hear their comments over my screams of pain."

"Would you say that they received... sexual gratification from the sight?"

"Gratification does not even begin to describe it! Most of the males wet their pants, and a lot of the females needed new panties. I know, because they told me how much they were cumming!

Mattie wished it was television instead of radio. She was sure in the awkward silence that, following her coyote friend's almost vulgar description of what had happened, Bill's ears and face were burning. He seemed to be such an upright, straight-laced male. She doubted that he had anticipated exactly how graphic and open Dena would be when he invited her onto the show.

"Of course," Dena continued, "the big screen monitors and close-up views of my pussy and the beating help get off the audience a lot."

"I don't see any monitors here," Bill said in surprise. "Or any cameras."

Dena replied, "Oh, they're here! Just look up at the ceiling along the walls, see all the long, thin doors up there? They drop the screens down whenever they are punishing somefur. There is one huge screen above the cubicles, and a half dozen or so come down along the side walls. The robots have cameras on them, plus there are others that come out of the dais and the rest of the floor.

"I've been bent over the block ready for a caning and looked up to see a ten foot tall video image of my pink pussy on the screen more than a few times.

"It was worse for the pussy whippings. Bent over backwards, my head was held in place by a robot to force me to watch the screen. Not only did they show my cunny in all its bloody glory, but the DCCF showed me pictures of the crowd. It was like those crowd shots with fans waving to the crowd. In this case, they showed me furs pawing off. More than one got up and let me and the rest of the pedophiles see their rampant prick or dripping snatch. They seemed rather proud of it.

"I was too busy screaming my head off in pain to really comprehend or remember all of it clearly, but I do vividly seeing that. The images still haunt my nightmares."

"Really?" Bill asked in a voice an octave or two higher than normal. He had to clear his throat quickly.

Mattie was certain that Bill's face, ears and likely entire body were crimson now. She was torn between horror and outrage over what her friend had endured and laughing at Bill's voice. She briefly wondered if he was married with cubs and would be hearing a lot about the show when he got home tonight.

"Yes, and that's not all," Dena said.

Dena went on to tell several of her experiences as well as other things that she had seen during her numerous visits to the DCCF facility. Talking about them on the radio seemed to be cathartic for Mattie's friend. She started slowly, but soon she was freely telling all that she could remember of the worst punishments that had happened to her and the other teens in the DCCF's Punishment Rooms.

Mattie could hear a growing rumble in the background as Dena casually rattled off one horrific punishment after another. The crowd was definitely shifting away from unqualified support of the DCCF. She was not sure if they were supporting the "delinquents" yet, but they at least had questions about the methods and actions of the DCCF now.

"Lies! They are all lies!" Mrs. Justine screamed at the top of her voice. "We never did anything like that!"

"Dena,' Bill slipped in before the young coyote could respond, "these are very serious accusations. I am sure that you can provide others to say the same, but they could be lying as well.

"Can you provide anything more concrete? Some sort of physical proof?"

"How about videos of my punishments courtesy of the DCCF's family punishment plan that allows the guardians to get the videos downloaded to their computer?" Dena asked cheerfully. "For a fee, of course!"

"WHAT-?! Those files are encrypted and can't be broken!" Mrs. Justine screeched.

"Piss off enough computer literate teen nerds, especially after virtually breaking them in half n your Punishment Rooms, and guess how long it takes to figure out how to hack the files!

"I found the code and downloaded it. I copied the files to my memory stick and took them to my lawyer. He took them to the judge who granted me a temporary restraining order against my foster parents and DCCF as well as a summary divorce from my 'parents'. He had a lot of nasty questions for Cub Services as well this morning."

Sweetly Dena continued, "He also issued bench warrants for the arrest of my foster parents and case worker on charges of cub abuse, cub endangerment possession of cub pornography and a few other felony charges. They are sitting in the local jail right now. He made it clear that he expects the District Attorney to file several more charges, and, if he does not, the judge will do so based upon the videos and my testimony."

Bill added, "And for anyone interested in seeing what happened to Dena, the videos in question are now available for download on our Web site courtesy of Miss Latrans. The judge has ruled that we can provide these videos for scholarly purposes so long as we limit access to adult furs. You must be over the age of 18, a registered user and sign a consent form that includes a statement that you are accessing the files for informational purposes only to view these videos.

"They are pretty gruesome," Bill declared in a very sober voice.

Suddenly, many things made more sense to Mattie. Bill at least had known what was happening at the DCCF to the tweens and teens before the show. She was not sure where Rush fitted into all of this, though. Had he seen the videos and approved this show? Was he willing to take a stand for the cubs?

They would find out soon. The bison's punishment was over, and he was returning to his cubicle.

"And finally," Bill said enthusiastically, "we will have Rush Rattus undergo a Yellow Level punishment and give you his personal insight into what it is like to be a teenage delinquent being punished by the Delinquent Cubs Correctional Facility.

"Back in ten after this station break and your local news!"

Mattie could hardly contain her excitement. Yellow or not, farce or not, she was going to hear Rush get his ass whipped! It might be anti-climatic now that Dena had blown the lid off what happened inside the DCCF Punishment Rooms, but Mattie still had a certain desire to hear Rush at least gasp in pain for the things he had said about her and the other delinquents. She rocked back and forth in anticipation as she impatiently waited for the news and commercials to finish.

The Rush Rattus Show returned to a thunderous ovation from the audience in the Punishment Room. They were in a near frenzy now that Rush was ready to take center stage in response to the gauntlet thrown down by the murderous armadillo teen. She was not sure what they were thinking right now after hearing the truth, but at least a fair number of them appeared to still support the DCCF based upon the shouts Mattie heard. Most just wanted to see their hero Rush in the flesh whatever the circumstances surrounding his appearance.

"We are back with The Rush Rattus Show coming to you from the DCCF Punishment Room," Bill yelled over the noise, "As you can tell, we have a very live studio audience today. They are here to witness Rush Rattus take on Matilda Villosus' challenge. Rush will receive a Yellow Level punishment to learn what 'really' happens to teen delinquents in the Punishment Rooms. He is miked, and he will be giving us the 'blow-by-blow' commentary.

"Rush, can you hear me?" Bill asked.

"Barely!" the enthusiastic voice of Rush Rattus replied.

"Are you ready for your big debut on the punishment dais?"

"I'm past ready! Let's get this thing going!" Rattus cheerfully called back. He obviously had no reservations or fears about his punishment. Mattie doubted that any teen would have the same bravado after watching eight of his fellow delinquents receive real punishments.

Bill said, "Okay, Rush, we are going to have your mike live throughout the entire punishment so we can hear everything you say. Be sure to let us know what is happening and how things are going, but keep it clean! We all want to know what a punishment really feels like."

Mattie heard a surge in the noise as Rush's cubicle opened.

"Delinquent Nine, you have thirty seconds to reach the punishment dais," the computer voice intoned.

"Rush is coming out of his cubicle and heading for the dais," Bill told the radio listeners.

"No, wait," Bill added in a confused voice. "Now he is playing to the crowd! He is exhorting them to get louder and cheer him on."

Mattie could hear the crowd going wild as Rush egged them on. She could just make out an occasional call of the time remaining from the computer as it counted down.

A chime sounded. It was almost lost in the roar of the crowd.

"Specification. Delinquent Nine has exceeded the time allotted to reach the punishment dais. Punishment level increased to Orange Level. Delinquent has ten seconds to assume position.

"Ten...

"Nine.

"Eight..."

Bill asked in a worried voice, "Mrs. Justine, what are 'specifications'?"

"Well, it means that the delinquent has violated one of the rules and is going to receive a more severe punishment of some form," Mrs. Justine said. "They were supposed to be removed for this session..."

Mattie's ears perked up. Even across the radio, Mrs. Justine sounded very worried. Something was not going right.

Bill caught it as well.

"Rush, you need to get to the punishment dais now!" Bill shouted.

Bill's call made it through to Rush via his earpiece.

"Okay! Okay! I'm heading there already! No rush, as it were!" the rat replied.

Rush laughed at his own pun, but Bill quickly told him, "You're late already, and the computer has upped your punishment to an Orange Level."

Mattie could hear the concern in Bill's voice. He at least knew that Rattus was in trouble. Mattie was not sure what was going to happen now.

"Oh, so what? As the boys proved, Orange is no big deal. I guess my adoring fans will get a look at my sculpted pecs today!"

Mattie snorted. She had seen pictures of Rush. He was middle-aged, at least sixty pounds overweight and had wiry arms and no chest.

"Okay, I am going up the steps to the dais like the computer ordered me to do," Rattus informed his listeners.

"The dais is about fifteen feet in diameter. The top is a little bit springy. It appears to be covered in something like that new memory foam furs are using for mattresses and pillows now. Kind of a rubbery surface, I think.

"I'm standing in the center now and waiting for my next order."

The computer voice said, "Delinquent Nine, remove all clothing from the waist up."

Rattus continued his running commentary.

"I'm taking off my shirt now.

"And there goes my undershirt as well."

There was the noise of fabric dragging over the microphone. Rush had to make some adjustments to get his microphone and earpiece back in position.

"While I am waiting, I'll just give our in-studio audience a bit of a show!" Rush said heartily.

Bill added in a deadpan voice for the radio listeners, "Rush is now going through body-builder poses for the audience."

Four hundred and fifty furs screamed their approval. The noise was deafening. Mattie could barely hear the computer ordering Delinquent Nine to take up his position between the posts.

The noise must have been too much for anyfur in the room to hear the computer. Not even Bill warned Rush. There was another chime, this one much louder than the last so that it could be heard. Mattie wondered if there was an audio feedback subroutine in the computer program to take into account the crowd noise. Likely yes since the watching mob could become almost rabid at times.

The crowd quieted a bit. They waited to hear what the computer was going to say next.

"Specification. Delinquent Nine has failed to comply with a direct order. Punishment modified to full nudity. Delinquent Nine has twenty seconds to disrobe.

"Twenty...

"Nineteen...

"Eighteen...

"Seventeen..."

The crowd gave out a collective, "Ooooh!" They had never expected to see so much of Rattus when they got their tickets!

Several in the crowd started yelling, "Take it off!" Mattie could also hear wolf whistles. To them it was still a game. Rush had second thoughts about it. He had heard what Dena had said even if he had not been able to say anything about it.

"What the heck-? I'm not stripping down!" Rush yelled belligerently.

Bill worriedly asked, "Dena, if Rush does not strip down, what will happen?"

"Well, he'll definitely get another specification, but the computer will also likely cut off his clothes to get him naked," Dena replied. Even if she did not know Rush personally, the coyote fem sounded worried. Even with the program modified to be less severe, she had seen too many punishments not to be concerned.

"Rush, did you catch that? If you don't strip before your time is up, you're going to get more punishment, and the computer is going to strip you anyway."

Rattus replied, "I'll take off my shirt, but that's where it stops! This is a talk radio show, not a strip show!"

"Rush, we don't have time to argue. Just do it!" Billed yelled back at his talk show host.

"Just the shirt!" Rush replied firmly.

The allotted time elapsed, and there was another chime.

"Specification. Delinquent Nine has refused to disrobe. Third failure to cooperate. Punishment increased to sixty strokes, enforced full nudity and full restraint. Additional specifications to follow."

"Enforced nudity?!" Rush said in confusion. "What does that-"

Whatever else Rush was going to say disappeared in his loud yelp of surprise.

"Five robotic arms have come out of the ceiling and the dais," Bill told the listeners in a very concerned tone of voice. "Four have grabbed Rush by the wrists and ankles and have lifted him off the dais. He is now completely suspended horizontally and is unable to move or protect himself."

Everyfur could hear Rush's yells of anger at being fur-handled by the robotic arms. There was still no fear in his voice, though. Only anger.

"The fifth arm appears to have some serious industrial-class snippers. Dena, do you know what they are going to do?" Bill asked.

"The snippers will cut off Rush's clothes. That's the 'enforced nudity' part of his specification," Dena said.

"And the full restraint?" Bill asked.

"Watch," Dena replied enigmatically.

Mattie and the other listeners could hear the snippers cutting off Rush's clothes. Rush complained bitterly the whole time, but many in the crowd whooped as Rush's fur came into view. There were quite a few vocal femfurs in that group.

Bill kept the audience informed as Rush's clothing was cut away.

"Rush's pants are being cut along the outside seam and are falling away. His belt was just snipped. Those cutters seem to have some serious capabilities. The belt never had a chance.

"Rush's pants are down on the dais now. The cutters are repositioning themselves-"

"Hey! Watch where you're cutting!" Rush screamed. His voice had gone up an octave. Mattie guessed Rush was watching the snippers close in on his crotch.

"-and are now removing Rush's boxers.

"They have not appeared to snip anything else," Bill added in a droll tone.

Mattie laughed. She was sure that Bill had added the last for the benefit of Rush's female fans. He was still single and no doubt more than a few wanted to spend a night with the "full" Rattus rather than a neutered Rush.

Bill continued, "And now the arms are moving Rush between the posts with his back towards the audience. They are holding him just in front of the posts...

"Wait, the posts are dropping out of sight.

"Two new, larger posts have come up from the dais. Robotic arms are reaching out and grabbing Rush's arms and legs!"

Mattie guessed that the posts and arms were the same as the ones she had seen holding the opossum fem for her punishment a couple of days ago.

"Rush is now being held by the arms in the posts. His feet are a good two feet off the floor, and he is completely nude. Another restraining arm has appeared and has grabbed his tail and is holding it down to the dais."

Mattie and the other listeners could hear Rush complain, "This isn't funny! I want my clothes back, and I want this stopped NOW!"

Instead of the computer stopping, Bill told the audience, "Another robotic arm has just come out of the dais. It has a syringe on the end of its arm!

"Mrs. Justine, what is in that syringe?!" Bill asked nervously.

"Nothing much..." the vixen replied airily.

Bill was not buying her explanation.

"Dena," he asked, "what is in that syringe?"

"Well, since there have been no more specifications announced yet, likely just an anti-shock drug."

Rush gave a yelp as the needle was rammed into his left buttock.

"What the fucking hell was that?!" Rush yelled.

"Specification. Cursing twice. Level one erection. In addition, prior unannounced specification is upgraded to pain enhancement level two," the computer intoned.

"What?" Rattus screamed. He was clearly worried if not frightened now.

Bill told the listeners who could not see what was happening, "The dais is rotating so that Rush is now facing the audience. Another syringe is coming up behind him."

Mattie could hear Rattus loud yelp in pain as he received a second injection.

"Quit doing that, you damn computer!" Rattus yelled.

"Specification. Cursing. Second offense. Level two erection. Penial injection."

Mattie sat straight up. An injection in Rush's penis? The ones she got in her boobs were bad enough, but, even though she did not have a penis, she suspected a shot into the shaft or knob was going to hurt even more. It would be at least as bad as getting a shot in her labia. Mattie could only imagine how bad that would be.

Bill informed everyfur listening, "Two more robotic arms have come out of the dais. One has a syringe, and the other has something that looks like a sleeve.

"Dena, do you know what that thing is?" Bill asked anxiously.

"I've never been to a male punishment, but I've heard talk. They use the tube to secure a boy's thingy and pull on it with some suction while they give him a shot."

Mattie and the other listeners heard Rush screaming, "Hey, get away from me! Let go of my family jewels!"

It obviously did no good.

Bill said, "The tube has gone over Rush's... shaft, and there must be some suction device in it, because it is pulling his shaft out and holding it in place.

"The second arm with the syringe is coming up and is nearing Rush's crotch..." Bill said in dread.

" OWWW!!!" Rush screamed in agony.

There were many gasps of dismay from the audience accompanied by loud male groans.

Rush's last scream was clearly a scream of intense drug-enhanced pain as the robots administered his shot. Mattie wondered how many males in the studio audience and listening on the radio were doubled over, grasping their crotch and whimpering now. The male groans coming from the audience left little doubt about what the males there were feeling. Mattie could even hear some males retching in sympathetic pain.

"Rush, are you okay?" Bill yelled.

There was no answer.

"Rush!"

A very angry voice came over the radio.

"'Am I okay?'" Rush screamed at Bill.

"I just had a huge needle stuck in my privates! Heck, no, I'm not okay!" Rush bellowed.

Despite her dislike for Rush, Mattie sympathized. Unconsciously her right paw rubbed her breasts where the injections had been administered. The level two pain enhancement drugs would be making the rat's pain even worse. At the same time, the other drugs would keep him alert and aware of everything that was happening, especially the pain that was to come.

"Stay calm, Rush," Bill told him. "We'll get you out of this.

"Mrs. Justine, stop the punishment." Bill demanded. Clearly he was done with this charade and wanted to get Rush to safety. Mattie wondered if parents watching their children punished by the DCCF had similar second thoughts. She had seen no evidence of it, and Dena had never mentioned any teen's punishments being stopped. Mattie hoped that at least some of the adults had changed their minds after seeing for themselves what occurred n the Punishment Rooms to their cubs.

Mrs. Justine said nothing.

"Mrs. Justine, I said, 'Stop the punishment.'! Now!" Bill repeated with some heat.

"I can't," Mrs. Justine replied in a very small voice.

"WHAT?!" Bill and Rush yelled in unison.

In a small voice, Mrs. Justine replied, "It's a design feature. We didn't want the guardians ruining things by stopping the punishments, so we have everything fully automated with no manual overrides. Once the punishment is started, it goes to the end with no further fur involvement. The only way it stops is if the subject has a medical problem."

There were several seconds of silence.

"Rush," Bill said, "any chance you are having a heart attack?"

"No," Rush replied in a very worried voice.

"Then it looks like this thing goes to the end," Bill said grimly.

Bill turned his attention back to Mrs. Justine.

"What is happening now?"

"Well," she replied, "he's been given some drugs, and the computer is waiting for them to take effect. It will be a few minutes before anything more is done to him."

"What drugs, and what are they going to do to Rush?" Bill said angrily.

"Mainly some testosterone. A couple of other drugs to help him - shall we say? - 'get it up and keep it up'."

"Oh, great!" Rush complained. "Not only am I butt-naked, but I'm going to be showing off my rathood to everyfur!"

There was another chime.

"Specification. Cursing. Third violation. Enhanced pain punishment."

"I didn't curse!' Rush yelled at the machine.

"Specification. Insubordination. Enhanced pain punishment, level two," the computer voice said without a hint of emotion or mercy.

"What's that?" Bill asked.

"Not good!" Dena replied. "It means that they are going to give him more drugs that increase both his pain sensation and tolerance to it.

"I've had it. It's hell."

"Huh?" Rush said before he started screaming uncontrollably.

"Rush has just received another injection into his penis," Bill told the listeners. He sounded rather green around the gills to Mattie. He was clearly having trouble watching Rush receive these injections in his shaft.

Briefly, Mattie wondered if they gave shots into a male's scrotum or even directly into his testicles. She suspected that the answer was yes when an older male teen reached the Red Level if not sooner. As much as she detested Rush, she hoped that she did not find out if her guess was correct today.

Bill said over Rush's continuing screams of pain, "The injection is continuing, and is appears that quite a bit so some chemical is being injected."

"Not really. They just like to let the pain from the injection mount to give you a taste of what is to come," Dena said. "He probably has all the drug in his system already."

"The needle has been removed. Now the sleeve is being removed as well," Bill told the listeners. Mattie noticed that the audience had gone dead silent. The only sound that she could hear was Rush's whimpers of pain.

" HOLY-!!!" Bill exclaimed.

Mattie leaned forward and stared at the radio. She had no clue what was happening on the other end, but she wanted to know. She could hear Dena snickering and Mrs. Justine whimpering just a bit.

"I guess we now know what a 'Level two erection' is."

Mattie could hear the females in the audience starting to go wild again.

Bill said with a hint of humor in his voice, "I am sure that many of Rush's female fans not here would love to see Rush right now.

"The drugs have not only given him an erection, but are greatly enhanced his 'attributes'. I can see it visibly growing as I watch. And I do not see any signs of it stopping."

"Christ, Bill! I'm bigger than a Clydesdale stallion!" Rush said in awe.

Mattie enjoyed the view of a good size male organ as much as the next heterosexual female, but right now her analytical side was wondering what Rattus' erect shaft would look like in a before-and-after shot. The drugs that they had given him must have been very powerful if he really was that large. Mattie had to assume that Rattus was just using hyperbole.

"I can feel every beat of my heart in my rathood," Rattus continued. "Looking down, I can see every throbbing vein on my shaft standing out. The places where I got the injections hurt like he- heck. Dang, nearly got me with cursing again there.

"My arms and legs are starting to hurt more as well. I'm not sure if that's from the drugs or being held up like this."

"Probably both," Dena chimed in. "They like to leave us up there on display for a good five or ten minutes before the real pain starts."

"How reassuring," Rush commented drily. He seemed to have regained a bit of his composure and attitude. "You seem rather happy about this, Miss Latrans."

"You were the one telling Mattie and every other teen fur that has been through this that we are weak and lying. Now you get to learn the truth firstpaw."

Dena's voice turned introspective.

"I'm not happy about it. No fur should be tortured, but maybe you and the other doubters will finally learn the truth. It may be the only way to turn the tide and stop this cub abuse."

"So my pain is for the greater good?" Rush asked.

"At least my greater good. I will never have to go through what you are about to experience ever again.

"I just wish you did not have to either," Dena concluded in a sad voice. "No one should suffer like you are about to."

There was a brief silence, and then Bill said in somber tone, "The entire dais is turning. Rush's back is now being placed towards the audience."

A hush fell over the crowd. Mattie unconsciously leaned forward to catch every word and sound coming from the Punishment Room.

"A robotic arm is coming up," Bill said quietly. "It has a large leather strap on the end. It seems to be longer but not as wide as the straps used on the boys."

"Well this cannot be good for me," Rush quipped. His gallows' humor elicited a small laugh from the members of the audience. They fell silent again quickly.

"The arm is coming back..."

Mattie clearly heard the whoosh of the strap cutting through the air.

CRACK!

Rush screamed inarticulately in total anguish. The sound echoed off the walls of the Punishment Room. The pain was easy to detect in Rush's voice.

"That hurt!" Rush finally managed to yell after several seconds. "I was raised in a Catholic school, and the nuns never hit that hard!"

"That was one of sixty," Dena told Rush. "Just be glad you do not have one hundred strokes.

"Yet," Dena added.

"How do I-" Rush started to ask.

Whatever question Rush was going to ask was cut off as the robot delivered the second blow to Rush's back. His words turned into another anguished scream of pain.

No one spoke as Rush continued to scream in obvious agony. Mattie had never been beaten like this, and she had never been given the pain enhancement drugs Rush was given, so she was not sure how much of the screaming was Rush being dramatic and how much was real. Listening to his tone, Mattie suspected all of it was real.

The beating continued. Every thirty seconds like clockwork the robotic arm would coil back and strike Rush's back with the strap. The audience watched and listened to their favorite radio personality's screams. The silence slowly gave way to confused mutterings. Watching Rush get stripped was fun and even something that would be a great practical joke to play on him. What was happening to him now was making them think about what Mattie and others had said occurred here on a daily basis. For the first time even the most ardent supporters of the DCCF and their methods were questioning their convictions.

Around the tenth stroke, Rush screamed, "Damn it! I'm cut! I'm cut! Stop this thing!"

There was another chime.

"Specification. Cursing. Fourth violation. Upgrade to punishment device. Strap replaced with whip."

"What?!" Rush screamed in shock and fear. "I thought this thing was supposed to stop when someone got hurt!"

"Mrs. Justine," Bill asked, "Rush is bleeding. I can see that from here. Why is the computer not stopping the punishment for a medical condition?"

There was no answer.

"Mrs. Justine, why isn't this stopping?!" Bill bellowed.

"Cuts caused by the punishment are not considered a medical condition. We only stop if the blood loss gets too bad and the subject passes out. That's why we give the drugs to stop that from happening," Mrs. Justine replied in a scared voice.

"'Blood loss gets too bad.'? Mrs. Justine, what the hell happens in here?!"

"What I and every other teen fur have said happens," Dena replied hotly. "We get tortured. Mattie was the only one of us with the courage to say no. The rest of us went meekly to our punishments, and we were tortured for the pleasure of the pedophiles in the audience who loved to watch us.

"Well, today it's a big-shot adult on the punishment dais, not a scared underage fur, and his fans get to watch and listen to what happens to him. It's the same thing that has happened to me dozens of times.

"I hope the entire audience likes it and enjoy the show," Dena finished bitterly. "I know that Rush will not."

Mattie could tell that Dena was pissed. Her friend had every right to be. The videos on the Web would tell the world why, too. Still, she also could tell that Dena blamed herself for what had happened and was at least as mad at herself. Mattie wished that she could hug her friend and tell her it was not her fault and that everything would be okay.

Rush's beating continued. The strokes were harder, and Mattie could hear a wetness in the sound of the whip striking the rat's unprotected flesh. Whatever Rush might want to say about his punishment was whipped from his body by the relentless, steady flogging. All he could do was scream as the mind-numbing, drug-enhanced pain took hold. The screams were, in many ways, far more informative than any words that Rattus could have uttered.

Mattie could not help but think about the times Dena had been similarly punished. The coyote had told the armadillo that her entire world was reduced to the whip and the pain. Rush was having a similar experience now. Despite his arrogance and attitude, Mattie actually felt sorry for the rat.

Bill tried to provide commentary, but his voice faltered and stumbled as he watched Rush be beaten. Even the strictest disciplinarians in the audience were aghast at what was happening to their hero.

Dena was the only fur with a microphone that was able to talk. She proved a stellar commentator. She provided insight into what was happening and explained in detail how much it hurt to be whipped like this. She talked about how each blow was designed to create maximum pain with minimum damage. Her reassurances that Rush would survive might have even aided the helpless rat to get through the worst of the torment.

By the time that the sixtieth and final stroke was given, Rush was reduced from his normal bombastic self to a blubbering mass.

"Ten minute presentation," the computer said.

"'Presentation'? What's that?" Bill asked.

Dena supplied the answer when Mrs. Justine remained silent.

"A presentation is when the teen is put on display. The audience is now free to come down onto the floor and look at the results of the torture. Most of the time it gets real crowded. Sometimes it even turns into a mosh pit with everyfur jostling to get to the front.

"Rush is going to be held there for ten minutes plus however long it takes to clear the floor. Some of the crowd liked to stay out on the floor after the time was up just so I was held on display longer."

Neither Mrs. Justine nor Bill had the heart to say much. Mrs. Justine was realizing what a disaster the show had turned out to be and how likely it was that her fortune from DCCF revenues was going to turn into bankruptcy and poverty or even a prison term. Bill was in obvious shock. He had never expected something like this, and he was unprepared to deal with it.

Dena took the opportunity to take control. She provided some commentary while trying to work the crowd. She had little success with the audience. They were as stunned or perhaps even more stunned than Bill. After trying to get coherent comments from them, Dena gave up and just concentrated on telling the listeners about what Rush was going through as he was held suspended above the dais.

Dena talked about the pain, the blood and the humiliation. She was able to comfort Rush some by noting that his blood flow had nearly stopped and the wonder drugs that they had given him were starting to repair the damage of his back. She also mentioned how much it itched and how much of a torture not being able to scratch was. She pointed out that the presentation period neatly matched the worst of the anguish Rush was going through, but she also said that he would be reasonably well in a couple of hours. The DCCF drugs were good enough to allow a growing teen to be punished every three days. It would likely take Rush a bit longer to heal, but, by the end of the week, he should be okay.

At the end of the presentation period, the computer voice said, "Presentation ended."

Bill told the listeners, "Arms have appeared again. They are taking Rush down and lowering to the dais."

Bill said in a hushed tone, "Rush is... Rush is curled up in the fetal position in the middle of the dais."

The computer voice said, "Delinquent Nine, return to your cubicle. You have twenty seconds to comply."

"Rush is not moving. I'm not sure if he even heard or understood what was said," Bill said in a strained voice.

"He can still hear and understand," Dena reassured Bill. "The drugs guarantee that. The mental pain and shock are just so great that he just does not want to do anything except die right now."

"Fifteen seconds," the computer said.

"I don't think he is going to make it," Bill said worriedly.

Mattie heard Dena sigh and say, "Yes, he will."

There was the sound of a headset being put down and a fur rising from a seat.

"Miss Latrans is going out onto the floor to help Rush," Bill said in a surprised voice.

"Delinquent Nine, return to your cubicle! Unknown furson, you must exit the Punishment Room floor immediately."

Mattie and the other listeners heard Dena yell defiantly, "Shove it up your USB port!"

"Miss Latrans is helping Rush up and getting him back to his cubicle," Bill reported.

"Intruder alert. Security to Punishment Room One! Security to Punishment Room One!"

The computer continued to yell at both Dena and Rush, but the coyote managed to get the rat back to his cubicle in time to avoid another specification and additional punishment.

"Be glad I helped," Mattie could hear Dena say through Rush's microphone. "The next thing they were likely to do was shove something up your ass. Or worse, your urethra!"

There was confusion as Security arrived.

"Security is here now," Bill reported. "They are taking Dena into custody and pawcuffing her. Mrs. Justine is going over to the guards and saying something.

"They are taking the pawcuffs off of Miss Latrans, but they are also taking her out of the Punishment Room with them."

Dena actually got some applause from the audience for helping Rush as she left.

"This is... This is Bill Jackson filling in for Rush Rattus. We had expected to have Rush out here to be interviewed, but he is in no shape to talk now."

Mattie could clearly hear Rush whimpering over his still open microphone. She doubted that the rat was going to be coherent and able to do a show for some time.

"He's curled up in the cubicle, and I can see his blood on the door."

Bill gathered himself back up and continued.

"It has certainly been a surprising turn of events here."

Bill recapped, "We have seen nine punishments. Eight were given to children of the DCCF executives. They were mild and fully within what one would expect a parent to give a cub. However, they did not always appear to meet the requirements of the law nor were they consistent with reports from multiple teen furs. That included our on-scene teenage expert, Miss Dena Latrans, who gave us a recounting of her personal experiences in the DCCF's Punishment Rooms

"The ninth punishment was given to our own Rush Rattus. It involved full nudity, drugs to enhance the punishment, and devices and methods that appeared to meet the requirements of the law. While legal, they have left Rush curled up in a ball bleeding profusely and unable to contribute to the show.

"Which is the norm of the daily DCCF punishment sessions? We will let you be the judge of that. We know our listeners are intelligent and can draw their own conclusions. We just draw your attention to the inconsistencies between what DCCF said today and what they have said in the past and what is in the law authorizing their existence and these punishments. Both are matters of public record and are easily found and read.

"Was Rush's punishment the torture that some have alleged occurs to teens inside these walls three and even four times per day?

"Rush is lying on the ground, curled up in a ball. His blood is all over the inside of the cubicle. We can hear him crying.

"You are intelligent. You know what torture is. You decide.

"For now, we are returning the radio waves to the local stations. This is Bill Jackson for The Rush Rattus Show. I hope that Rush will be here tomorrow to tell you more about his experiences today, bit do not be surprised if he is not. He is in pretty bad shape despite the drugs the DCCF gave him."

Bill signed off by saying, "Until tomorrow, goodbye!"

Mattie turned off the radio. She was upset at what had happened to Rush, but she had to admit it felt good to be vindicated at last. Even if some of his listeners thought it was fake, Rush at least had tasted a bit of the truth.

Even more than for herself, Mattie was glad that Dena and the others who had actually suffered the repeated tortures were vindicated. It sounded like Dena was in good shape and heading to a better, happier life. That alone was enough justification for the armadillo teen for sacrificing her life.

Mattie sat back and sighed. There was still the very real question of what she should do now. She had essentially accomplished everything that she wanted to do before dying, and she was still very much alive and even free. Whatever thoughts she might have about her future were interrupted by her stomach growling. It was demanding immediate attention.

Mattie pulled on her clothes. She felt almost zenfully calm now. She decided to see what Zeke was serving tonight. Afterwards, she could think about what she might want to do with her limited future.

Friday night was popping at the market. There were many furs there having a good time. Mattie almost turned around and left for fear of being identified, but Zeke saw her and motioned her over. He slipped her between his stall and the adjacent one run by an old raccoon femfur. She glanced at Mattie, smiled for a moment, and then got back to berating the youngster with whom she was haggling.

"I guess I'm getting well known," Mattie commented drily.

"It comes with being a celebrity," Zeke said, "Mattie."

Zeke handed her a folding chair. She took it and sat down.

"You could get a large reward for calling the police and telling them where I am, Zeke."

Zeke shrugged his shoulders.

"I've considered it. There is the matter of three dead furs, and that weighs heavy on my mind," The old armadillo male confessed.

Mattie replied, "The first drew a gun on me. The second... The second I should have prevented, but I was sloppy, hurried and - to be honest - scared. The third was going to kill me. He had his gun drawn and was pulling the trigger when I fired.

"They died because I was not going to be tortured to please those pervs at DCCF. I wish that they had just let me leave, but they didn't, and I was not going to just meekly submit to them. I saw what that did to Dena, and I was not going to be like her.

"I would rather die first!" Mattie finished on a voice filled with both determination and remorse.

Zeke said nothing more. He handed the young fur a good-sized meal. She reached for her stash of cash to pay him, but he just waved a paw at her.

"No money! This one is on me. It was worth a lot more to hear Rattus scream today. He provided very good entertainment. His cries were so high pitched! He squealed just like a little girl under the lash," Zeke said with a laugh.

Mattie laughed at Zeke's enthusiasm, but, when she calmed down, she said, "I never meant for him to have it so bad. I don't like him, but I never wished him to go through so much torture and pain."

"It's okay," Zeke assured the teen as he motioned her to start eating. "He survived. He learned a very valuable lesson today. It may well change his entire outlook on life and the furs around him. That is not a small thing.

"He ended up in the hospital for observation, but he is already screaming for a lawyer and is planning to sue DCCF," Zeke told Mattie.

Zeke gave a deep laugh and said, "I wonder if the hater of lawyers realizes how funny it is that the first words out of his mouth were 'I want my lawyer!'?"

Mattie laughed and replied, "I doubt it."

Zeke turned serious.

"What are you going to do now, Young Mattie?"

"I have no clue," Mattie replied.

"I've done more than I ever thought I would before they kill me. The DCCF has been exposed for what they are and what they do. There is no way that the situation can be ignored or swept under the rug now. Things are going to change, and I think for the better.

"I cost a lot of very influential furs a lot of money and power, though. They are not going to be happy about that. It is too late to silence me, but I figure they are going to kill me now just out of spite."

"Leave," Zeke said flatly.

"Perhaps, but I have nowhere to go," Mattie replied.

"Good!" Zeke said emphatically. "Then they cannot guess where you are going.

"Pick a direction - any direction! - and keep going until you get lost. Go some more, and, when you find someplace you like, stop and start a new life," Zeke advised Mattie.

"Maybe..." Mattie said in an unconvinced voice.

Mattie smiled and added, "But then I'd miss your great cooking!"

Both armadillos laughed.

Mattie finished her food. She rose to leave. Zeke handed her a bag of food as a going away present. Impulsively she kissed the older armadillo on the cheek. It was a chaste kiss, but she could see and almost feel his face glowing red. She walked away. At the corner, she paused and looked back. He was ignoring the crowds around him and watching her alone. She smiled and waved. He waved back. She filed away the sight of him in her memories, turned and was gone.

This time Mattie went back to her hideout almost directly. She had to so few cares now that she was no longer worried if they found her or not. She was reaching for the handle of the door to the shed when a voice behind her called out loudly, "Mattie!"

When startled, armadillos are among the best jumpers among furs. Mattie jumped almost five feet straight up. She was turning and clawing for her guns as she came down. She only stopped when she saw who had called her name.

A female badger dressed in black leather stood on the far side of the street. Brenda was a senior at Central high School. Mattie did not know her. She did not even know the badgeress' last name. She did know that she had a reputation as a "bad girl", though. The other furs at the school talked about her sex, fighting, drinking and many other things. She was probably the last fur that the armadillo teen expected to be calling her name across a deserted street deep in the heart of The Barrio.

"What are you doing here?" Mattie growled as she looked about. She did not draw her guns, but she kept her paws over the pockets in which they rested.

Brenda raised her paws and showed her empty palms to Mattie.

"I came to talk. And to help," Brenda replied.

"Why would you want to help?" Mattie asked.

"That's part of what I want to talk to you about," the badgeress said.

"Can we go inside?"Brenda asked. "I'm sure there are no policefurs around here, and friends are watching the streets around us, but it still feels wrong to be standing outside where any passing fur can see and hear us."

Mattie had to agree with Brenda. She turned and opened the door of the shed. She glanced inside to see if anyone was there. When she saw no furs inside, the armadillo motioned Brenda to join her. The badgeress jogged across the street. She entered the shed and closed the door.

"Nice and homey," Brenda commented slightly sarcastically.

"Well, I have the wall paper on order, and the curtains are due in tomorrow. I plan to get the builders in next month to add a bathroom and give me a quote on adding a second floor," Mattie replied sardonically.

Brenda flinched.

"I deserved that," she said softly.

Mattie was surprised. She did not know Brenda, but she certainly had expected a different response from the badgeress.

"It's okay," Mattie replied much more civilly.

"Not really. It's something I have to work on," Brenda said. "One of many faults to correct actually."

The armadillo and badgeress stood staring at each other for several seconds. Mattie could tell that Brenda was a changed fur. She was almost scared to ask why.

Mattie waved a paw and said, "Sorry, but all I have is the floor for sitting."

"That's fine," Brenda replied as she took a seat.

Mattie sat down across from her and propped her back up against the wall.

"How did you find me?" Mattie asked.

"I come to The Barrio quite a bit. I like it here. They are or at least were my type of furs - loud, bawdy and boisterous. Raúl saw you and told me that you were here," Brenda explained.

"Raúl?" Mattie asked in a confused voice.

Brenda responded, "The badger that tried to make a move on you a few days ago at the street market. You nearly pulled a gun on him. He backed off, but he remembered you.

"Raúl's been trying to get in my panties for the past few months. I knew that he would help me find you if I told him I would put out for him. After The Rush Rattus Show ended, I came down here to find you. He thought he knew where you were hiding. I found a spot across the street and waited. When I saw you, I knew that he had found you for me."

"I'm surprised anyone from Central High School would be looking for me," Mattie said.

Brenda said, "A lot of us are out searching for you. We're hunting everywhere we think you might be or where we know other furs that have been to the Punishment Rooms. There have to be a couple hundred of us."

Mattie was shocked at the number of teen furs looking for her.

"Why are you and the others looking for me?" Mattie asked.

"To help you."

"Help me?!" the armadillo teen asked in confusion.

Brenda cocked her head and asked, "Mattie, do you have any idea what is happening out there?"

"Just what I hear on the radio," Mattie replied. "I can't go out much right now. Little trouble with the police right now, if you know what I mean."

Brenda gave a little laugh and said, "Yeah, there is that.

"They are not telling a tenth of what is happening at the DCCF facilities or elsewhere. They are also not telling people what the tweens and teens think.

"You're a hero, Mattie! All the teen furs adore you for standing up to the DCCF!

"All of us have been so afraid. We just did what they told us to do. Go there, strip, be beaten, go home. Repeat. Never stop and think about what was happening because it was our parents and the other adults telling us what to do. Even I never really questioned their authority, and my parents and I were not on good terms. I flipped them off on plenty of other things, but when they got me into the Punishment Room, I was as meek as the rest.

"You..." Brenda said in a voice filled with admiration.

"Mattie, you said 'NO!'. You told them that you were not going to just do whatever they told you to do. Not only did you say no, you were willing to fight to make it stick. Most importantly, you said what was happening was wrong, and you proved it today! Even Crush had to admit it!

"And it was so great to hear things go wrong and Crush to get his comeuppance!

"Now everyfur is questioning what is happening in those Punishment Rooms and why. It's changed everything!" Brenda said.

Brenda paused for a moment.

"It even made me closer to my parents," the young badgeress confessed in a small voice.

"How?" Mattie asked. She was intrigued by the twist things had taken.

"The TV and radio are not reporting it much, but a lot of teens are telling their parents. 'Enough is enough! We are not going to the DCCF. If you want to punish us, you have to do it yourself. It is between you and us.'

"My younger sister and I did it last night. I had been thinking long and hard about what was happening. I decided that I was not going back to the DCCF. I went to the garage and got the ax."

"Brenda!" Mattie exclaimed in horror.

"It's okay! I never intended to use it," Brenda explained. "I just wanted to make my point crystal clear.

"I took the ax back into the house. I met my sister coming out of the kitchen. She is too young to be punished at the DCCF now, but she is going to be twelve in a month. That means she is almost eligible for trips to the DCCF. She had seen what they did to me. She didn't want it to happen to her. The little eleven-year-old runt didn't say a word. She just showed me the big ten-inch chef's knife she had in her grubby little paws.

"We went to Mom and Dad's bedroom. We snuck in and put the ax and the knife between them. The message was clear. We know where you sleep, and we can do things to you. Keep torturing us, and we will. With two weapons there, they would know the message was from both of us."

Brenda laughed almost bitterly.

"You should have heard Mom's scream when they woke up!"

Brenda turned her head away and continued quietly.

"We had a long, heart-to-heart after that. I told them about what it was like to be at the DCCF. All the things that happen both out on the dais and behind the scenes. They never wanted to listen before, but for maybe the first time in my entire life, they really did.

"I told them about how much it hurt, not just physically, but emotionally. I told them about looking up into the stands as the pain caused me to scream again and again and seeing furs with their paws under their clothes jacking off to my hurt.

"For maybe the first time, I listened to them - really listened. They told me about how concerned they were about me getting in trouble all the time and having so many problems. They actually love me, I think. At least they seem to care about me and how I turn out. I never thought about that or realized before how much they wanted me to turn out well. It was desperation that was driving them to take me to the DCCF, not hate or even lack of caring. They didn't even like what happened to me.

"In the end we made a bargain. I would try to be better, and they would punish me at home instead of taking me to the DCCF."

Brenda laughed again, but not bitterly.

"And I promptly went out without telling them to find you!" Brenda exclaimed.

"I've got fifty strokes of a cane on my bare ass while I'm tied over the back of a chair waiting for me back home when I get there now," Brenda finished.

"How do you know that?" Mattie asked.

"It's what I said I should get in the note I left explaining that I was going to help you," Brenda cheerfully replied.

"YOU asked for it?!"

"Yep! I even left the note on the chair along with the cane and the ropes on the seat."

"Why?" Mattie asked.

Brenda looked uncomfortable. She could not look Mattie in the eyes.

"Like I said, I've done a lot of thinking lately. I'm not happy about where I'm heading. I need to take responsibility for what I do, and that includes getting punished when I do something wrong, if I am going to get better."

Brenda sighed and confessed, "I'm not looking forward to it, but I'm not afraid. I know it is the right thing to do."

Brenda looked at Mattie and grinned.

"My butt's gonna be sore for a week when Dad's done!" the badgeress said with a smile.

"You seem surprisingly happy at the prospect," Mattie commented. She knew that she would not be looking forward to a caning from her mother so readily.

"My choice this time," Brenda said calmly.

"And it's worth it for you."

"I doubt that," Mattie said flatly.

"I don't!" Brenda said vehemently.

"Mattie, a lot of us are rooting for you. If you win, we all win. You got a lot of us off our tails and fighting back."

Brenda paused for a moment and asked, "Have you heard about the blood being thrown at the DCCF facility doors?"

"Yes, that made it onto the news."

"The media is reporting it," Brenda said, "but only the Internet is showing the true extent. Hundreds of teen furs and more than a few adults are going there and throwing vials, even full quarts, onto the doors. It looks like a massacre happened! And it is happening every night at every DCCF facility! They posted guards last night, but they got overwhelmed, pushed back to the doors, and were covered in blood."

"How do you know that?" Mattie asked.

Brenda straightened and proudly said, "I gave my vial last night!

"'The tree of freedom must be watered with the blood of patriots' or whatever you said. We're taking you literally and making sure that they know it's our blood as well as yours.

"It's got them frightened. They have the schools in virtual lockdown. They have curfews out, and a lot of policefurs are cruising the streets looking for any signs of teens gathering. When they see more than one teen together, they break them up and send them home.

"Having several suicide attempts on their doorstep has not helped the DCCF cause any either. Several furs went to the place you broke out of and declared they would rather die than go back into the Punishment Rooms.

"Then they slashed their wrists."

Mattie gasped in horror.

"Are they dead?!" Mattie asked in shock. She did not want the blood of innocent teens on her paws. There were better answers to the DCCF than suicide.

"Too many paramedics and drugs are at those facilities to let them die from bleeding. They got them fixed up and off to the hospital real quick, but not before the story and some phone camera video got out on the Internet and went viral. No one in charge admits it happened, but almost every teenage fur in the world knows about it."

Mattie's natural skepticism came to the fore.

"'Everyone knows it' and the Internet normally means it's a hoax," Mattie said bitterly. No doubt, most of the adults were ignoring the evidence. "No offense, Brenda, but I'm not even sure I believe it. Did you see it?"

"Yes, I saw what they did last night when I gave my blood.

"Mattie, one of the suiciders was Sheanna," Brenda said.

"Sheanna?!"

Mattie knew the small, quiet calico cat. She was a good student but very introverted to the point of being almost withdrawn. She had few friends and caused no problems at school. She never struck Mattie as the type to even be taken to the DCCF.

"Her parents took her to the DCCF for a punishment after she went out with a boy without permission. She was supposed to get a Green. Things did not go well. She ended up with an Orange with a lot of specifications the day before you were taken in.

"She was torn apart and wrecked worse than Dena. She just walked around without seeing anything or anybody when she got back to school the day before yesterday. She never said a word when we tried to talk to her. Her stare... She just looked right through us like we were not even there.

"She perked back up after she heard about your breakout and how you had stood up to the DCCF. Your calls to Crush and how you evaded the police and the DCCF seemed to help a lot too. Then..."

Brenda paused a moment before continuing in a strained voice.

"Last night she decided to take action. She went to the DCCF facility. I saw her go to the front door at the end as the rest of us were almost ready to leave. I and everyone else assumed that she was just going to throw some blood on the door like us.

"Instead she turned around and told us, 'Mattie said that the Tree of Liberty needed blood. I'm giving all of mine tonight.'

"I would have stopped her if I had known. Everyone else there would have too. We didn't.

"Sheanna pulled out a straight-edged razor - one of those old medical ones used to shave off fur for surgery. No one knows where she got it, but she held it in her right paw and slashed so deeply into her left wrist I thought she was going to cut her paw off.

Brenda paused and swallowed a couple of times. Mattie found her own stomach a little queasy, and she had not even been there.

Brenda continued, "There were some Goths and Emos there who saw what she did. They started yelling about blood while we tried to help Sheanna. They were all desperate, depressed DCCF victims. They had knives. They used them on themselves.

"The guards and adults were able to stop them before they did too much damage to themselves. We had a temporary truce, and the DCCF paramedics gave them help. They even managed to save Sheanna.

"Sheanna's blood was all over the place. On the doors. On the windows. On the sidewalk. On the asphalt. She passed out before they got it stopped. I heard a rumor she is in ICU after surgery to re-attach her paw, and I wouldn't be surprised if she was. The others were not as bad off, but they were still in pretty rough shape.

"Everything got captured and uploaded in seconds. With her unique pelt pattern, it was easy to identify Sheanna. The press has been hounding the hospital and her doctors as well as the DCCF for news about her condition and interviews with her. The authorities and the DCCF have managed to squash the story in the media, but everyfur on Scentbook knows who she is and what happened to her. She gained over ten million fans overnight."

Mattie wrapped her arms around her legs and lowered her head. She cried a bit at the thought of the shy cat nearly dying.

Brenda crawled over to the silently weeping armadillo.

"She's alive, Mattie, and she is going to get help." Brenda assured Mattie.

"And you are going to make sure she never goes back to the DCCF!"

Mattie laughed bitterly and replied, "That's a pretty tall order!"

"But you've already done it! All you have to do is keep going for a couple more days until they cannot hide anything about the DCCF anymore. There are a lot of questions being asked, more than a few by people who can do things. We just need to keep rubbing their muzzles in the shit they created long enough for it to end.

"And that's why we have to get you out of here now."

Mattie looked up at Brenda and asked, "Why? The Barrio is pretty safe. Not many policefurs come here."

"Yeah, that's one of the reasons why I keep coming here, but now the police are working their way through the neighborhood going almost door to door. A lot of furs are pissed, but there are too many cops with way too many guns to do anything about it.

"Somefur is going to say something or give you up for the reward. Raúl said you've been covering your tracks fairly well, but, if he made you, so can others."

"So what do you propose I do?" Mattie asked.

"We have that covered," Brenda responded. "There's an empty warehouse across the river. I've got a map for you. You go there, and I'll get a car for you. You can drive back to Alabama and hide out there. When things blow over in a few weeks you can start a new life."

Mattie thought how nice it would be to go home, far away from this city. She could see her Mom again one last time. She might even be able to arrange to be buried beside her when they killed her. Being with her Mother for the rest of eternity was appealing.

"Mattie, you've got to do it! We don't want to see you die!" Brenda implored the armadillo.

Mattie blinked. She was surprised at the ardor in the badgeress' voice.

"Does it really mean that much if I live or die?" Mattie asked.

"Yes!" Brenda replied emphatically.

Mattie took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Okay," Mattie said reluctantly, "but I have to wait for nightfall. If I go out during the daylight and the police are here, they'll get me. If anyone is nearby, they'll probably shoot and kill them as well to silence them as well. I don't want innocent furs' blood, especially the blood of those who are trying to help me, on my paws."

The badgeress nodded but admonished Mattie, "Don't wait too long. The Barrio is not going to help the police, but it is not going to take the cops too long to get here."

Brenda dug a piece of paper and a cell phone out of her pockets.

"Take my old cell phone. I'll call you to let you know what's happening and that I'm coming. It will be a few hours at least before I call, but not much longer. I'll meet up with you at the warehouse around midnight. That should give you enough time to get there."

Brenda hugged Mattie and told the armadillo, "Good luck! I'll see on the other side of the river later tonight."

Brenda snuck out of the shed and headed off to start her night's work.

Mattie sighed. This certainly was not what she had planned when she had decided not to just accept her fate and be beaten into submission for the DCCF audience's pleasure. Now it seemed like many teen furs were depending on her.

Mattie growled low in her throat. She did not want this, but she was going to see it through!

Mattie looked at the map Brenda had given her. The warehouse was a couple of miles away upriver. There were several bridges she could use, but she decided to go further upriver, cross and work her way back. It would take longer, but hopefully it would keep her clear of any policefurs that might be looking for her tonight.

Mattie rested and even dozed for a bit while she waited for the sun to set. She grew restless and decided to chance leaving a bit early. She gathered up some food, checked her guns and headed out. It was not fully dark yet, but dusk was starting to settle in. She could get to the edge of The Barrio, find a place to wait, and cross the river when full darkness fell.

In the distance, Mattie could hear police sirens wailing. They were coming towards her, but slowly. Apparently, Brenda had been telling the truth about them searching for her house by house. She worked her way to the north end of The Barrio and found an alleyway. She curled up between a couple of trash bins. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. The smell from the trash covered her scent, but it was almost nauseating. Still, she had little choice with the police so close. The bloodhounds would find her easily if they could catch her scent on the breeze. By now, her uncle had no doubt given them every article of worn clothing in the house so that they would recognize her scent.

That night darkness came too slowly for Mattie's pleasure. She waited impatiently until the streetlights came on before leaving her hiding place. The police were still in the neighborhood, so she moved carefully and tried to avoid the light. She still made good time. Her nose, ears and sense of touch served her well. She left The Barrio and headed north. She kept several blocks away from the river for as long as she could.

The police were out in force looking for her tonight. They must know that she was somewhere nearby to commit so many policefurs and patrol cars. She had to duck into the shadows several times to avoid police cars speeding by. All of them were heading towards The Barrio. She looked back nervously. There was plenty of light back there, but she did not see or smell smoke. She could hear the police sirens, but she did not hear any sounds of shots or a riot. As far away as she was, she doubted she could anyway. She just hoped that The Barrio would not erupt in violence tonight. She already had the blood of three furs on her paws. She did not want more deaths on her conscience. Three lives were enough for which to answer.

When she was well north of The Barrio, Mattie found a relatively dark area and moved towards the river. She was in an industrial area, and there were few furs about. She reached the river unchallenged and looked up and down its crooked length.

To the south, Mattie could see police cars with flashing lights on several of the bridges. Apparently, they were covering her escape routes from The Barrio over the river. She was already well north of them and would not have to worry about them.

Looking the other way, Mattie saw a couple of police cars on the next two bridges downstream. Beyond that, the bridges were empty as far as she could tell.

Mattie selected the fourth bridge to the north. It was well lit, but there was a bridge and nearly a mile of river between her and the police. Her biggest fear was that the police had established a cordon between it and her. She left her lookout spot and headed north along the road beside the river.

Several police cars were indeed stationed along the road leading up to the second bridge. She surveyed the situation. They were too closely spaced for her to easily get through. She was trapped.

Mattie began to pull back when several of the waiting policefurs jumped into their cars and sped south into The Barrio. She bit her lower lip. Apparently, the residents were giving the police a hard time. It helped her, but she was increasingly nervous about what might happen behind her. She looked back. Hovering over The Barrio now were several helicopters shining lights down onto the ground. Those appeared to be police choppers. Higher up in the sky were a flock of other helicopters. The teen armadillo had been surprised when she arrived in the city to see so many news choppers. Now, all of them seemed to be covering the police invasion of The Barrio,

"This is getting out of paw!" Mattie growled under her breath. She looked at the police furs and thought about surrendering to end this. She had largely accomplished everything she wanted to do. Now keeping those behind her safe was becoming a larger priority.

Mattie was still debating what to do when even more police cars sped off. Instead of heading south to The Barrio, they headed west towards another section of the city. She looked around the corner. She could not see anything, but she could hear police from not only here but also The Barrio and elsewhere fanning out through the city.

The phone in Mattie's pants rang. She nearly jumped out of her pelt. Fortunately, it was set to low vibrate. A loud ringtone would have brought the police running to see what the unexpected noise was. It was still loud enough to worry her.

The armadillo femfur dug out the cell phone and answered the call quickly to stop the noise before it gave her away.

"Brenda?" Mattie whispered into the phone.

"Mattie, we're calling reports of seeing you from all around the city. We're using the Internet and texting to set up things to make it look like several furs are seeing you in the same area so they cannot just ignore the reports. The police are being drawn all over the place looking for you."

"What's happening back at The Barrio?" Mattie asked worriedly. She decided that if there was a riot starting that she would give herself up and get the police out of The Barrio as quickly as possible.

"Things got tense. The TV crews started showing up thanks to some interns and a few sons and daughters of station managers. The police were smart enough to pull back at that point. They're trying to persuade everyfur to go back inside while they look for 'a dangerous killer that is a threat to every fur in The Barrio'."

"Brenda, I don't want a riot!" Mattie hissed into the phone.

"There isn't going to be one!" Brenda assured Mattie.

"With the police being called away, they are going to have to pull back even further and hunker down at the edges of the neighborhood to try to keep you from escaping if you are actually still there. Raúl and others are keeping things in check inside The Barrio, so as long as the police don't do anything stupid, it will be a peaceful stand-off for a couple of hours while you get away. Then they'll negotiate a deal and let the police in to look for you.

"They might even have Zeke rat you out and show them where you were hiding. Tearing that place apart for clues should keep them busy for a few hours at least. That will give you even more time to get away."

Brenda mused, "You know, Raúl is acting awfully mature right now. If he manages to hold everything together, I might have to start thinking about him for a mate."

"Brenda!" How can you think about that now?" Mattie whispered incredulously.

"Hey! This is all going to be over sometime soon. I might was well start planning now.

"Besides, I'm going to need someone to rub my bum and make it feel better after my dad is done caning me!

"And getting a mate and raising a family is a part of growing up.

"For now, though, everything is still a go. Get to the warehouse and wait for me. I'll be there at midnight.

"See you soon, Mattie!"

The badgeress hung up the phone. Mattie ended the call at her end and turned off the cell phone in case the police tried to track her with it. She shook her head back and forth. Even now, Brenda was thinking about carnal delights. Mattie had to laugh a bit. Perhaps it was not the worst way to live. She would likely never know.

The phony phone calls did the job. The police had committed almost all of their officers to raiding The Barrio. Now, a multitude of possibly real calls was coming in from furs seeing her elsewhere around the city. They had to withdraw their forces to confirm the sightings. The situation in the heart of The Barrio did not allow them to pull out those officers easily, so they had to stretch their outer line. Mattie waited as police car after police car along the cordon disappeared into the night.

Mattie picked her spot to cross the police line. A street light was turning itself off at regular intervals. There was good darkness in the street when it was off. There were only a couple of hundred yards between the two police cars in the area, but she thought she could get through without being seen. It was a risk that she was going to have to take to get to the warehouse.

The armadillo teen worked her way back from the street and hurried through alleyways until she was even with the spot she had chosen. She worked her way back to the edge of the street and waited.

The streetlight gave a small burst of light, buzzed loudly, and went out. The armadillo looked up and down the street. The police were still there, but they were trying to cover the entire street. She hoped that they did not have night vision goggles or nocturnal species with good night-sight in the cars or she was going to be spotted as soon as she broke cover.

Mattie took a deep breath and sprinted out of her hiding place. She kept her eyes straight ahead looking at the darkness between two buildings. She almost gave into temptation and glanced to the left and right, but she managed to control herself and sprinted at top speed straight forward.

It was the longest two or three seconds of Mattie's young life. There were no shouts or rain of bullets to stop her. She continued running until she came to the fence at the back of the buildings. She scrambled over it. She found a dumpster and dived behind it. She lay there catching her breath and listening.

All Mattie could hear was the pounding of her beating heart and her gasps for breath.

Mattie waited several minutes for her breathing and racing heart to slow. As soon as she was not making too much noise, she headed off at a jog. She had only an hour and a half to get to the rendezvous point by midnight, and there was a bridge to cross and almost two miles to cover before she got there.

Mattie continued to avoid the few well-lit main streets in the area and worked her way along back alleys and poorly lit secondary roads. Normally she would be scared to death, but she had nothing to lose now. She trusted her instincts to keep her from falling and running into things. They largely served her well, and she only had a few minor bruises by the time she got to the bridge.

Unlike the other bridges she had taken in the past couple of days, there was a steady stream of cars going over it. Because it was so well travelled, the designers had included a nice wide sidewalk on each side of the bridge and the road leading up to it. There were also plenty of lights.

Mattie looked at the bridge carefully. There were a few pedestrians, mainly joggers, but mostly the sidewalks were clear. She watched and waited until there was a bit of a lull in the traffic and joggers. When she thought no one was looking directly at her hiding spot, Mattie stepped out of the shadows into the light and boldly walked onto the bridge.

Mattie's mom had once told her as they cut through a hotel lobby to shave several hundred yards off a walk to their car, "Look like you own the place, and no fur will question you." Mattie put her Mom's advice to the test. She almost swaggered across the bridge. She kept to the outside, but she did not try to hide or avoid looks from the drivers or other pedestrians. She walked quickly but did not hurry.

Even though armadillos were uncommon, none of the passer-bys batted an eye. She was ignored except as an obstacle to be avoided by the late-night joggers.

Five minutes later when she reached the other side, Mattie took the first right. She quickly worked her way onto the back street again. She looked back frequently. Despite her terror of being seen, no fur came to accost her, and there were no police sirens heading towards her. Bravado had won out this time.

Mattie found a quiet spot out of casual sight and collapsed. She was shaking. She pulled out a dark chocolate bar and munched on it to help calm her. It took ten precious minutes for the adrenaline to work its way through her body, but she almost could not move. She had to wait. It out.

When the shaking subsided, Mattie headed south towards the warehouse. According to her map, it was only two dozen blocks away now. She used dead reckoning through the back streets and alleyways to get her there.

Mattie reached the major road that her map showed ran in front of the warehouse. She looked around and found that she was three blocks west of where she needed to be. She hoped that Raúl or whoever had picked this place knew what they were doing. She worked her way east to the warehouse.

The warehouse was set well back from the road. It sat behind a rusted chain link fence. Empty parking lots and cracked asphalt surrounded the building. There were a couple of working security lights, but they could easily be avoided.

Most importantly, there was no furs on the outside waiting to seize her. The police might well be hiding inside, but Mattie had to take that chance. Almost fatalistically, she realized it no longer really mattered. She would either escape against all expectations or die. The certainty of her fate gave her a calmness that allowed her to accept the risk without paralyzing fear.

Mattie waited for a break in the traffic. When there were no cars for a block on either side of her, she sprinted across the road and ducked through a corner of fence that had been pushed back by other trespassers. She crossed the parking lot quickly and found a side door. She twisted the knob, but nothing happened. She kept to the shadows as she moved along the exterior trying each door to which she came. None of them opened, but she did find a partially open window with some old boxes stacked beneath it. From the tracks on the muddy top of the abandoned crates, she guessed that this was a common means for entering the building used by the local cubs seeking some fun and older teens with various business inside. She just hoped that none of them were around tonight.

The window was a tight fit for Mattie, but she managed to wriggle her armored body through it. More crates stacked on the inside made for an easy descent to the floor. She made a fair amount of noise breaking in, but no fur came to investigate. She appeared to be alone.

Mattie worked her way through the dusty building towards the front. She found a door to the outside. There had been a padlock on it, but somefur had broken it off, and it had not been replaced. She could get out here and get to the car quickly. She was not sure how Brenda was going to drive into the parking lot, but she found herself trusting the badgeress to get here.

Mattie glanced at her watch. She had made good time on this side of the river. She had about ten minutes before Brenda was supposed to be here. She looked around. There were some tarps near the door. She snorted at the sight of the used condoms on and around them. She picked up a couple of tarps and shook them out hard to get rid of the offensive debris. When she was sure that they were as clean as they were going to get, she folded them up into a crude bed. She curled up into an armored ball and waited.

Time passed, and Mattie became nervous. She looked at her watch several times. The time she was supposed to meet Brenda came and went. The night stretched on, and still Brenda was not here. Mattie tried hard not to panic. She knew that there were many things happening tonight. Perhaps Brenda had been delayed by traffic.

An hour after the appointed time Brenda's old cell phone rang again. Mattie answered.

"Brenda?"

There was the load sound of police sirens coming from the other end of the connection.

"Mattie, get out! Some fur talked! I've been made. I've got a dozen police cars chasing me. I'm leading them away, but they are going to come looking for you soon," Brenda shouted into the phone.

There was a pause. In a regretful voice, Brenda added, "Mattie, I'm sorry. We tried hard, we really did, but I guess they were just too much for us."

"Brenda, stop and let the police arrest you. Don't get killed for my sake!" Mattie told the badgeress.

Mattie fretted as several seconds passed with no response.

Finally, Brenda said, "Okay, if you say to do it, I'll do it.

"It won't be the first time I've been arrested. I'll just call my parents and have them bail me out again."

Brenda gave a sudden squeal.

"My parents! They are going to kill me for this! I'm going to have to give them at least another hundred strokes on my ass for this! I'm not going to be able to sit for a month!"

Despite her situation, Mattie had to laugh at the distraught tone of the badgeress.

"Well," Brenda continued in a barely calmer voice, "Raúl is going to earn his keep rubbing salve into my bum!"

"Try to think positively, Brenda," Mattie said encouragingly.

Brenda replied with a sigh, "I will.

"Good luck, Mattie. I hope you get out. Even if you don't, you're my hero. And you are the hero of a lot of other teen furs. We are never going to forget you. Don't ever forget that you made a big difference in all of our lives."

"Thanks, Brenda."

Mattie heard the sound of a police siren grow. An angry male voice said through a bullhorn, "Pull over and get out of the car now!"

"Can't you see that I'm talking on the phone?" Brenda screamed back furiously.

A moment later Brenda asked in a much calmer voice, "Mattie?"

"Yes, Brenda?"

"Good luck. I've got to go. I've got a date with a police photographer."

"Good luck yourself, Brenda."

The phone went dead.

Mattie hoped that Brenda would be alright. For now, she had to get out of here. She stood and started for the door, but it was already too late. The frosted windows around the top of the building were illuminated with an increasing number of flashing red and blue lights.

The police had arrived.

White spotlights ran over the exterior of the building searching for the armadillo teen inside. Mattie heard the steady beat of helicopter rotors grow louder. They circled overhead, and their powerful spotlights lit up the night like day.

It was over. Mattie had been found.

Mattie still tried to escape. She ran to the back of the warehouse and looked out through one of the many broken windows. A half-dozen police cars were just pulling up. A dozen policefurs jumped out and drew their pistols. Mattie could see more coming.

The young armadillo ran back to the window through which she had entered. More policefurs were waiting for her.

It was only a matter to time before they broke in and killed her.

Mattie looked around. Her searching eyes found a ladder leading up. At the top was a hatch to what she presumed was the roof.

If she was going to die, Mattie was going to make sure that it was going to be in public, not in the darkness where the police could lie about what happened.

Mattie scrambled up the ladder. The hatch had not been used for years and was rusted partially shut. She had to press her shoulder against it to force it open. Adrenaline helped give her the strength she needed. The hatch flew open and crashed to the roof with a loud bang.

Mattie crawled out onto the roof. An air conditioner unit was directly in front of her. She lunged forward and rolled beneath it. Crouching in the shadows, she looked about.

The warehouse was surrounded by the police. She could not see them over the edge of the roof, but she could hear them on all sides and see their flashing lights. Above the warehouse, nearly a dozen helicopters circled. She could not get an accurate count with them swooping about, but she was pretty sure that there were two police copters and eight to ten news choppers. Their lights probed the building and surrounding area looking for her.

The teen armadillo sighed. There was no way she was getting out of this. The time to spill her blood had come. It was the last act of this passion play, and her time was here. Still, she was not going to give the police an easy time of it.

Mattie stripped off her clothes and threw them through the open hatch. Her naked body could hide no weapons. When she was shot and killed on live television, the media choppers would show that it had been a cold-blooded killing to silence her and protect the DCCF and its enablers.

Mattie gathered her courage one last time and strode quickly to the front of the building. The policefurs in the helicopters saw her almost instantly. She was bathed in high-powered searchlights as she made her way forward. She stood on the very edge of the roof and unconsciously spread her arms wide. She could almost feel the sniper scope crosshairs centered on her head and chest. She was sure that if she looked down her chest would be covered with red laser dots.

"Take your best shots, bastards! I know you are going to kill me. Make those shots count!"

There were no shots.

Mattie waited, but the only change was the helicopters bunching around her.

"Come on, you bastards! What's the matter? Afraid to kill a teen? You certainly don't have anything against torturing me for your sexual pleasure, perverts!"

There were still no shots, but a single police fur walked forward from the line of cars beneath her. He looked up at her and raised a bullhorn.

"No one is going to be taking any shots today, Mattie. You have my word on it."

Mattie laughed.

"How naïve do you think I am? I can't be taken alive. The trial and publicity will destroy too many powerful furs. I have to be silenced now.

"I know you are going to kill me!"

The policefur calmly replied, "No, we are not. I have ordered my furs not to shoot. No one is going to fire at you.

"Period."

"You can't be serious," Mattie said, "I have challenged the status quo and the powers that be. Furs who do that die."

"I know something about challenging the status quo and the powers that be, Mattie, and I know the cost."

The policefur reached up and removed his helmet.

Mattie gasped.

The policefur was an older skunk. That was not surprising. Many skunks went into the police force. What drew her attention and shock were his ears. Where there should be a pair of round ear flaps were instead ragged stubs. It looked as if the skunk's ears had been chewed off. Looking closer, she could see gaps in his pelt and headfur as well. Whoever this fur was, he had been through some serious physical abuse.

The skunk spoke into the bullhorn again.

"Mattie, I marched at Selma and Birmingham. I sat at the Woolworth's counter in Greensboro. I watched the Civil Rights Act of 1964 be signed.

"I know what you face today because I was in your shoes when I was in my teens and early twenties."

Mattie lowered her arms. Her entire attention was focused on the skunk standing beneath her. Being from Alabama, she knew the sacrifices he had made even if she did not know him. She knew about the police dogs, the fire hoses, the batons and all the rest. He had her respect and even admiration for all that he had endured to bring about equality for not only skunks but also armadillos and many other species. She listened to his words carefully.

"Mattie, I know you are scared. I know you think you are going to die. You are not.

"Mattie, please come down. Let us take you in. I personally guarantee your safety. There are dozens of good lawyers, the ACLU, the Southern Poverty Law Center, and many others waiting to stand up for you in and out of court."

The skunk smiled up at the watching teen.

"Even Rush Rattus has said he is going to support you."

Mattie put her paws on her hips and angrily said, "Now you're just joshing me!"

Several of the policefurs laughed at her outraged surprise.

"No, I am not," The skunk replied.

The skunk paused for a couple of seconds before continuing. Almost quietly he said, "Mattie, we want to help you, but you have to help us. You need to surrender. We will not hurt you or allow you to be hurt.

"Just look out there. Do you think we could hide anything even if we wanted to?"

Mattie had been so absorbed in the police that she had not looked past their line. Raising her eyes, she was shocked to see dozens if not hundreds of furs gathering at the fence and closing down the highway. More were joining them every second. The news media were arriving en masse as well. If she was going to die, her death was going to be well covered, and there were going to be many questions if she surrendered peacefully and ended up suddenly dead in police custody.

Maybe there was a chance that she would live to see the sunrise after all.

Mattie looked down at the skunk and asked, "If I give up, what happens?"

"I'll send in some female officers. They will come to you and take you into custody. We will take you out the front and bring you to the police station."

"Which station?" Mattie asked.

"We are taking you downtown to Police Headquarters."

"My uncle has a friend on the police force, David Caggottis-"

The skunk interrupted Mattie. She was surprised by his angry tone.

"Officer Caggottis is on administrative leave pending a disciplinary hearing and probable removal from the force and possible criminal charges for falsifying official records."

In a much calmer tone the policefur continued, "We went back to your house, Mattie. There was still enough evidence to give credible support to your claims. We are looking at prosecuting your uncle for attempted rape as well, but I doubt that we have enough physical evidence to get a conviction."

Mattie was taken aback. Caggottis was off the force and out walking the streets? Apparently at least a few furs believed her enough to look deeper into what had happened, and they were finding her claims to be believable if not necessarily provable in a court of law.

Maybe this was going to work out after all.

"Okay," Mattie called down. "I'll give up. I won't resist. Send up your police furs.

"My clothes and the weapons are at the bottom of the ladder."

The young armadillo could almost swear she heard a sigh from the assembled policefurs. They truly appeared not to want a shootout with her.

Mattie slowly walked back to the hatch and waited. A few minutes later, a skunkette's head popped up through the hatch. Her 9 mm pistol was trained on Mattie.

"I'm not going to fight," Mattie said a little bit petulantly.

"Sorry, standard procedure," the skunkette replied cheerfully. She did not stop pointing her pistol at the armadillo as she clambered up onto the roof, but she made no other threatening moves.

A second skunkette appeared on the roof. Together they converged on Mattie.

"It seems rather stupid to pat you down," the first skunkette said, "but we have to do so."

The policefurs quickly and efficiently checked Mattie for weapons.

"Time to go, Mattie," the second femfur said.

The pair led Mattie to the ladder. There were two more femfurs on the floor below waiting for them. Mattie climbed down first followed by the two policefurs. The two waiting femfurs gave her the clothes she had discarded and allowed her to dress before they pawcuffed her arms in front of her. They had her guns, ammunition and everything else she had hidden in her pockets sitting on the floor beside the ladder.

Together the four femfurs led Mattie to the front of the warehouse. They paused for a moment while the first checked outside.

"Afraid someone is going to appear and whisk me away?" Mattie asked cynically.

"Nope," the first skunkette replied genially. "We just want to make sure everything is safe. Grandpa would never let us hear the end of it if something happened to you now."

"'Grandpa'?" Mattie asked.

"Police Commissioner Richard Lawson while we are on duty," the second skunkette replied.

Mattie blinked. The police commissioner was here to arrest her? And he had sent in his own family to get her? She must have made a much greater impact than she had imagined.

A police car pulled up to the door. The skunkettes loaded her quickly into the back seat. Two jumped into the front while one sat down in the back beside Mattie. The Police Commissioner stopped the other back door of the police car from closing.

"Thank you, Mattie, for making this easy," The police commissioner said.

"I didn't want any more deaths. Heck, I never wanted to kill any fur in the first place," Mattie replied somewhat sullenly.

"I'm sure that's the case, Mattie. You'll get a chance to prove it in a court of law now. And while I enforce the laws and bring criminals to justice, I hope things go well for you."

The Police Commissioner turned to his three officers and ordered them, "Get her downtown now! And make sure she gets there safely!"

The older skunk slammed the door shut and pounded on the roof twice. The siren and lights came on, and the police car started to slowly pull out of the parking lot.

Mattie looked at the crowd that had gathered. They were mostly teenagers like her. Many held up signs supporting her with slogans like "Free Mattie!", "End the DCCF!" and "No More Teen Torture!". The police had to gently push back the reporters and others who tried to rush up to the car as it exited the warehouse parking lot. The armadillo fem could only look around in shock.

"What have I done?" Mattie whispered aloud.

"A lot of good, I think," the policefur beside her replied.

The skunkette continued, "A lot of furs are asking questions that should have been asked months and even years ago. Even more furs are being scrutinized and things like The State Controlling Board being in the pockets of the DCCF are coming to light."

The skunkette riding shotgun in front of Mattie turned around and added, "And you have given a lot of young furs hope."

"You seem rather happy about all this," Mattie said in surprise. She had always expected the police to be against her. These skunkettes and their grandfather at least seemed to actually support her.

"Take a look at us, Mattie," The skunkette said earnestly. "We are in our early twenties. We just missed the DCCF though I doubt any of our parents would have ever sent us there. We are going to have children someday, or at least I plan to.

"What would it have been like for them if the DCCF was still around in fifteen years?" the skunkette asked pointedly.

"I thought all the police were in favor of the DCCF?"

Her question was met with three derisive snorts.

"We are about finding and bringing to justice criminal furs, Mattie," the skunkette beside her explained. "What the DCCF does is not justice or even suitable punishment. We've had many questions even before your shooting spree, Mattie. Now we can look in all the deepest, darkest corners and find out what is really happening there.

"It is too early to say for sure, but I think a lot of DCCF furs are going to jail and many politicians will be retired at the next election even if they avoid prison time."

"And me?" Mattie asked.

All three skunkettes turned grave.

"Hard to tell," the driver said. "You did kill three furs and castrate your uncle. That is not going to be ignored."

"I thought it was justifiable homicide in self-defense," Mattie explained.

"It might be presented that way, but it is going to be up to your lawyers to argue it and the courts to decide.

"With any luck they are going to keep it in juvenile court. At worst that means you get out at twenty-one even if you are convicted of everything. That may seem like forever, but you will find the time passes quickly when you have a lot of friends around you."

Mattie wondered who those friends were. Looking through the car windshield, she thought she knew who some of them were.

"I think you have a reasonable chance of being acquitted or plea bargaining for probation, but, again, it is not for me to say," the skunkette finished.

Mattie turned her head to look out the window. Dozens of flashes went off to capture her grim face as she was taken off to the police station. The crowd roared as she passed. They shouted her name and waved.

As the car reached the edge of the crowd and sped up, the armadillo teen mulled over two thoughts.

Mattie had made a major impact in the lives of many teens just by standing up to an injustice. There was a multitude of teens that were likely never going to have to go through what Dena and others had endured because of her actions. They would never know the whip and the roar of the gallery as blood was drawn.

The other realization that slowly crept its way into the young armadillo's consciousness was that she was going to live today. The Tree Of Liberty would not be watered with her blood this time after all.

Mattie smiled. For all the problems that she still faced, the armadillo teen could not help but think that maybe her life would not be so bad after all.