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The sounds of clacking keyboards fill the offices in the Los Diablos police department, busy secretaries and officers assigned paperwork when they aren't out dealing with the thugs that seem to run rampant across the streets. Drugs, arms, and sex all for sale on the nearest street corner, and criminals smart enought to make themselves disappear within a mile of a cop... And with enough muscle and money in politicians' pockets to check themselves out of jail like a damn hotel. Soon the sounds of stomping boots and jangling chains can be heard faintly, accompanied by rapid bouts of slurred profanity as a pair of officers drag a thrashing girl through. Her hair is a raven black at it's roots, traveling up in a single strip to become a lime green mohawk. Bars and rings cover her face - lips, eyebrows, nose, and ears all. Her fairly androgynous face is contorted into a reddened display of rage and exertion as a result of her struggles and cries... Soon drowned out as the officers drag the thrice-cuffed girl into another, thankfully soundproof room. They depart for a while, refreshing themselves and letting her simmer for a while in the immaculate, bright interrogation room before the officer that arrested her walks in, a fairly tall, average-looking collie. As she reaches the other side of the table the punkish girl sits at, idly fiddling with the chains on her studded leather jacket within reach of her cuffed hands, the captive girl speaks. "Whaddaya want, McGruff?" she asks tauntingly.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, and we're going to see if we can get some answers out of you," the collie said, taking a seat across the table from the woman and looking at her firmly. Nothing special about Officer O'Brien; she was a competent but not exceptional officer and simply knew how to work with the bureaucracy well. Which meant that when a special position like the one she was in now opened up, she was the first choice to fill it. She produced a small form and began to write things down in the fields. "Now, if you don't have anything you'd like to say before we begin your processing, we can get started with your name," she said, pausing on the form and looking up at her.

She sneers... Smiles? "I'm the bitch who's gonna getcha hooked on the nastiest shit we c'n find n' toss ya out on the nearest corna t' sell yaself fer it." she replies. "But ma' friends call me Gwen." She tries to cross one leg over another, but her ankles are cuffed securely to the chair... Which has been bolted to the ground, immovable. Trying to jerk the cuffs from under the legs prior, Gwen sighs as she finds this impossible. "And while we're goin' at it with show n' tell, what's your name, piggie? Need t' know what t' call ya before ya end up as 'Spunkbucket'."

"Jennifer O'Brien," she said. "But 'officer' will do just fine. You sound a bit thirsty. Here, let me get you something to drink," she offered, getting up from her seat and crossing the room to a small sink, filling up a cup with water, then bringing it back to Gwen. She sat on the table, lifted the cup to her mouth, and pushed the rim between her lips as she started to tilt the cup up, trying to pour the water into her mouth without having to take off the girl's handcuffs.

The punk smiles and nods, silently laughing. "Yeah, hecklin' you cunts gives me a helluva case a' cottonmouth." Her cocky visage melts the moment the officer turns her back, becoming frantic as she darts around and looks for a method to escape... Well, escape quicker. The girl had a man on the inside - everyone knew him... Or, her. Hell, for all Gwen knew, it was officer O'Brien. She only needed to say a word and would emancipated from this damn place... But she didn't want to seem weak calling out this soon. Her pierced lips purse around the styrofoam cup and she drinks it down quickly, giving a quenched "Aaahh~" as she did. "Mmhm. Great, thanks, doll."

"Now, let's get back to the report. It's...three nineteen now. What were you doing about an hour ago?" she asked. A little less than an hour ago had been the 911 call about a mohawked punk girl vandalizing store property. And shortly after that, Jennifer had picked up Gwen just a few blocks from the store, fitting the profile of the girl the caller had described perfectly. But as she considered it and got ready to tell the officer whatever sarcastic thing she was going to say, she was suddenly hit by a small pang of...guilt? It wasn't enough to stop her in her tracks, but it did leave her off guard. Because, well, she didn't feel guilty ever. A small shifting begins to occur down around her feet, gradually thickening her toes, causing her toenails to grow longer, itching faintly in her boots as fur begins to grow from her toes up to her ankles, and then slowly further along her legs.

The girl cracks her neck... Guilt had never meant much to her, and her conscience was on holiday... Just a bit of petty vandalism wasn't going to magically revive it, was it? Not even worth being the straw that broke the camel's back... But still, she felt it. Her cockiness fades once more, now... Frustrated. More at herself for being caught, and... Partly for the whole... Well, vandalism thing. Besides, she could tell her whole damn story and still walk out of her scott-free. "Uh... Well, I... Guess I was just doin' a bit of spraypainting over down at the shop-mart. Thought it needed a bit of a touch-up, lookin' a bit dingy n' all. Heh." she chuckled, proud of herself.

"Ah-hmm. And when the owner of the store came out to tell you to stop, what happened then?" She'd said a few good curses, flipped him the finger, and kept going until he started calling the police. After all, way better not to get caught at all than to have to go through the hassle of getting herself out of lockup. Shit, and he barely deserved it anyway. Pff, people deserving insults? She told whoever she wanted to fuck off! But really, she could see why he was getting upset. Hopefully he hadn't taken it to heart; it was just part of doing her thing, not anything...mean or anything. With a small scrunch, Gwen's nose both flattened and widened into something black, broad and wet, which her longer tongue instinctively flicked out to lick. Her ears perked up at the small surprise, the growing tips sticking through her hair while the fur was making its way up past her knees, bringing a slightly softer look to her body as it went. Her piercings start to vanish, simply winking away, leaving behind smooth skin--one or two at first, but soon, nearly a good third of them are gone.

She looked down, pouting... Her more feminine face and plumper lips displaying what a child looked like after they'd been chided for stealing a cookie. "Well, I-I..." she begins, trying to think of some... Comeback, something... Rebellious or snarky to say... But she could save it for later. Hell, no-one would know that she couldn't think of something to tell the officer off once. And, hey, Gyew wasn't a bitch - her whole rebellious attitude was... Something to do, the thought as she looked back on it. Between school, which she never quite remembered attending before; and packing her sniffer full of nose-candy, there wasn't much to do to keep her occupied. So, she tagged a few places, took a few drugs, and got her body all painted and pierced. It was... The in thing to do... But she was better than the others who took it so much more seriously. Continuing, she says, almost fearfully "I... Told him off. Just the whole 'Fuck off, I can do what I want, You're not my dad' jargon."

"Right. And then after that, you left, and you threw the spraypaint in a dumpster a few blocks away. And that was around where I picked you up, right?" God damn it, Gwen, you go out and do just a little bit of vandalism and you get caught by the cops. Maybe she was better off back in school...hell, in the gym. She wasn't that much of a punk girl, really...she'd gotten high a few times and liked grungey music. Her chest had risen slightly inside of her shirt, sticking out a bit more prominently, while her tongue now hung slightly out of her mouth--when she was happy, which wasn't right now, so her narrow muzzle was shut. The fur growing over her was coming in black with reddish-brown, climbing along her taller and taller ears, sliding out along her tail. Her tail tucked under the chair and her ears folded back now, mixing the guilty pout with a regretful sort of canine expression.

Her gaze had been burning into the officer's eyes moments ago, the next step being uncaringly looking a way. Since then, her eyes, now an ashen grey without her green contacts, had fallen into her lap alongside her hands. Despondently, the growing canine nods and whimpers in the slightest. All but her hoop earrings had disappeared from her face, and her mohawk had shrunk down considerably, now lacking the green dye from before. Christ, she... She just wanted to hang around with people here, n-not get caught up in all this police shit! Sure, maybe she'd get high... At least say she was. She could fake a pill, and fake it's effects on her... And she could put up a fight if any of the guys tried to take advantage of her... Or the girls... But, still, all she wanted were some lively, non-bookish friends to hang around with.

"Hmm, all right then. We can get started on your processing right away, if you'll just hold still..." Jennifer stepped back, then pressed some button that Gwen couldn't see--the table slid down into the floor in front of her as a presentation screen rolled down in front of her. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the officer sticking hearing protectors in her ears and slipping goggles down over her eyes. The video began to show a montage of what she had to assume was police academy, flashing before her eyes slightly too quick to think fully about each image but long enough that she could recognize them intuitively. "Serve the people, protect against criminals, defend civilians from lawbreakers. You want to put your life on the line. You want to bring in punks and vandals," said a loud voice, too loud for Gwen to think while it was speaking. Between the growing girl's legs, a shaft flipped out, and buried itself deep into her with a steady, persistent rumbling. Her breasts were growing bigger, heavier, more sensitive, her hips flaring as her waist pinched in, deceptively smooth for the strength that she was developing.

She'd already had a massive jumbling take place in her head - rather than growing up on the streets as one of the drug-smuggling punks the loud voice was commanding her to apprehend, Gwen... dolyn remembered growing up as the wanna-be of the group, shunned and used as a scapegoat because she was admitted into school and just wanted to make some friends outside of her circle.. She found the fashions interesting, but never did do any herself... And lacked the anarchistic attitude the rest had. But now... Nigh-instantaneously pounded into her head was a stream of images where she was... Stopping them at every turn. A lifetime's worth of time spend at a police academy was being piled onto her body and into her mind... Not to mention the ear-pounding volume of the voices commanding her, and the vibrator linking every image of a punk behind bars or a thug handcuffed with mind-blowing pleasure. Behind her, the officer was undressing her and looking back and forth between her and the montage... It was always nice to watch a new trainee roll in.

The doberman girl's mouth hung open loosely, her eyes unfocused but still recieving the images and the heavy reprogramming that was wiping out every last little bit of the punk and transforming her into a dedicated young cop. Her breasts almost blossomed outward when Jennifer removed her top; she had astonishing curves and a plump, glossy lip and just looked all-around intensely sexual, but at the same time, she could fuck a criminal into complete submission. She absolutely loved being a cop, and to her, it felt as if her entire life was all directed at that one thing. She was a cop, and that was all she needed to be and all she ever wanted to be and she absolutely loved it. And then she came, and nearly blacked out, coming to limp in the chair while Jennifer was finishing fastening up the belt on her tiny little shorts.

Gwen can hear mumbling, through the haze of near-unconsciousness as she had an innumerable about of times before, albeit in a drugged haze. "... Gwendolyn...?" she can make out... That was her, wasn't it? It felt a bit... Long... But it was her, she knew it! Her ears perked up and her eyes shoot open, momentarily blinded by the bright lights around her. She could feel leather below her... A seat. In a car. Looking to her left, the canine could see the collie officer beside her, her hand on the wheel and looking over her. "Officer Luca? You with me here, newbie?" she asks, concerned. Just looking over the woman made a pang of arousal spike through Gwendolyn... 'Officer Luca?' she mused, looking down to her tight top, her badge adorning her left breast... It corresponded with what her superior was calling her, so it must be... Right. "Yes, ma'am!" she proudly declares, a wide smile on her face.