Fur Cop

About
Fur Cop is the first of my furry erotica stories. It is about a guy named John, who is a detective, and a life changing week he experiences. It is not very long, only six chapters long. I gathered much inspiration for the story. Such as, the character design of John and the way he is seen in the beginning of the story is inspired partially by Fur Affinity mascot, Fender the Ferrox, as he is currently depicted on the site. The character build of the villain in the story is inspired by one of Wolfblade's characters, called Jesse. I spent some time typing up this story, and I hope you enjoy my first erotic fur adventure!

NOTE: The disclamer is standard in all my stories whether they contain the warned against content or not. Please do not feel deterred by it. Also, the large gaps between chapter headings are form when I copied it from the original document. My apologies.

Also, feel free to correct grammatical and spelling errors.

Fur Cop
Fur Cop

A FURRY SHORT STORY

BY: Christian D. Webster

LEGAL INFORMATION

COPYRIGHT: This work is copyright of Christian Webster and may not be published, sold or used in websites without permission. Any works of art herein are the copyright of the respective artists.

WARNING: THIS STORY IS A MATURE THEMED STORY AND IS NOT TO BE SHOWN OR GIVEN TO MINORS UNDER 15 YEARS OLD. IT CONTAINS SEXUALLY EXPLICIT ADULT THEMES AND LANGUAGE OF A MATURE NATURE. SOME ART, IF ANY, MAY BE PORNOGRAPHICALLY EXPLICIT AND SHALL NOT BE VIEWED BY UNDERAGE PERSONS OR IF SUCH MATERIAL IS ILLEGAL IN YOUR PLACE OF RESIDENCE.

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

CHAPTER ONE: Furry Detective

CHAPTER TWO: A Man’s Wish

CHAPTER THREE: Couple

CHAPTER FOUR: You Have the Right to Remain Silent

CHAPTER FIVE: Paternity

CHAPTER SIX: 52 Years Later

FROM THE AUTHOR

Hello, readers! This is the first in a collection of furry based stories and books by myself, which involve anthropomorphism and the erotic side of the furry lifestyle. Being a newcomer to the community of furry lovers at the age of 16, I have looked through various works of furry art and read about furry publications such as Softpaw Magazine and its spin off, Finding Avalon. Being such an unusual attraction, furry anthropomorphism fetishes and related furry styles are generally kept private and under wraps. But, there are many more furries than you might think, and it is not uncommon to discover that many people have an interest in fur and the art and styles associated with the furry community. I did not think it was very normal thing for a time, and was ashamed of myself. But I have learned that I am not alone and that there is nothing wrong with us furry lovers, and have since accepted myself as one. I now openly discuss my interest with anyone who may ask, and am now writing these stories for other furry loving people, both gay and straight, to enjoy. I hope that you can all enjoy the story which I have written for you, and may all you fur loving readers find the courage to accept yourself for who you are, not what others want you to be.

Sincerely Yours,

Christian Webster

Fur Cop

CHAPTER ONE: A FURRY DETECTIVE

“Wow.”John Leiter thought to himself as he lay on the hillside.

John was a big guy, about six feet tall, with a finely chiseled set of chest muscles. His massive chest put strain on the buttons of his white dress shirt as he lay on his back with his hands crossed behind his head. He had smooth, light brown fur all over his body, except on his head, which had a long but neatly groomed amount of coarse hair. His chest and belly was covered with soft, white fur and he had white fur around his eyes. His long legs were stretched out in front of him with his left leg bent and the kneecap pointed skyward. His black dress pants were finely pressed with military creases, and his suit jacket lay on the ground beside him, with his Glock handgun in its holster resting on it. On this bright and sunny day, the golden glow of John’s detective shield attracted a number of woodland creatures out to take a look as he lay on the tallest hill of the rolling fields behind his Kansas home. He admired the beautiful blue sky and enjoyed the feel of the light breeze on his face. He had a job as a homicide investigator at the local police headquarters, and today had been a fine day. He felt especially proud of himself that day; he had made an arrest in the case involving a triple homicide and had gotten an excellent lead to another suspect in the case. The case had been going on for several weeks, and the family had been so thankful about the arrest. The victims had been two teens and an adult male, gunned down in a drive by shooting. He had worked tirelessly on the murder, and now he had cracked it wide open. Now was the time to relax in the beautiful mid-afternoon sun.

John’s girlfriend, Amanda Winston, walked up the hill towards him. Her tropical themed dress gown flapped in the wind as she approached, and the short cropped fur on her head waved with it. Her fur was a uniform white color all over, and stood out in the sunlight as she walked amongst the amazingly green grass. Unaware of her approach, John kicked off his dress shoes to reveal his black dress socks. He resumed his position with his knee in the air, and closed his eyes. Amanda finally made it to him, and at the sound of her gown, John raised his head slightly and cocked his ears. He smiled as she stopped at his feet.

“Thought I’d find you out here. It’s such a gorgeous afternoon.” She said as she looked at John laying on the ground.

“Not as gorgeous as your eyes.” Said John. He had always loved Amanda’s sapphire blue eyes, which contrasted to his green eyes.

“Oh, you,” she responded as she went to lay down on his left, “you’re such a fluffball! Oh!”

John looked over and saw that she had lain on his suit jacket and his gun. Amanda had never liked guns, but she accepted the pistol as a necessary part of John’s work as a law enforcement officer. However, she had not been pleased when John had brought home a Bushmaster M4 assault rifle for personal use. But eventually, she accepted this one and had even bothered to dust it and the bullets when she cleaned around the house. John feared the day when she learned that he had a tactical combat shotgun in the trunk of his car and a .45 caliber pistol in a case under his nightstand.

“I wish you did not need this thing. I might as well get used to messing with it, because you have a habit of not cleaning things. I want to hold it.” She said, looking nervously at the gun sticking out of the holster.

“So hold it. It won’t bite you.” Said John.

“I’m afraid of it! Take the bullets out for me!” said Amanda.

Rolling his eyes, John reached over and picked the holstered weapon up and withdrew it. Amanda’s eyes followed John’s every hand movement, as though waiting to save him from the attack he was sure to suffer by the cold black object in his hands. She watched as John nonchalantly pressed a button on the grip of the gun, and caught the falling magazine in one hand, and set it on the ground. She watched intently as he then gripped the slide and with a swift movement, pulled it back and ejected the small 9mm bullet, which fell between his legs. He closed the slide and picked the bullet up and put it into his pocket. He handed her the gun, which she took without looking, staring into his face. She looked at the gun, then at him. She reached over and took the magazine from his hand, then dug into his pocket and retrieved the bullet. Trying to be as nonchalant as her boyfriend, she pulled the slide open and inserted the bullet, then pressed the button on the side to close the slide again. She then slapped the magazine back into the gun, engaged the slide safety, and set the gun on the ground.

“I didn’t know you knew how to use it.” Said John, surprised that Amanda had just reloaded his weapon in the correct fashion.

“Like I said, you never clean it, so I will. I figured it would help to know how to operate one, so I learned how on the Internet. But you don’t need that thing. It does not suit you; so much cold black steel. Your warmth and closeness to me make me feel safer than any gun ever can. You are too sweet for it.” She said, reaching over to stroke John’s cheek and ears.

“Is that so?” he asked.

“Yes. You alone make me feel safer than anything else. You’re my big, fluffy detective.” She said as she lay close to him.

John stretched his thick arm out for her to lay her head on, and drew her close to his face. He embraced her with both arms as she crawled onto his chest slightly and began playing with his ears and kissing his forehead.

“I love you so very much, Amanda. You make my day so much more perfect.” John said as Amanda lay her head on his chest.

The vibrations from his deep voice made her feel good. She loved his voice; it made her feel safe to hear such a masculine sound, coupled with John’s hefty muscle mass.

“I love you too, John.” She said as she leaned up and kissed him lightly.

John felt elated. He loved Amanda with all his heart, and would give anything just to be with her forever. He was happy at work, which paid well and it had been a childhood dream of his to be a cop, and now he was a full blown detective, and people depended upon him to serve justice. Being only 28, John had a long life before him. But he feared that his life might be cut short in the line of duty. He knew Amanda would be shattered on the inside; she loved him so. His friend James had been stabbed to death by a suspect during an apprehension attempt, and John had seen the broken look on the face of James’s son and on his wife Margaret’s face. John had been the one to find him lying on the kitchen floor of an apartment, holding his chest as a pool of blood grew around him. John had tore the young man’s uniform open to find his white fur soaked red with blood and could see each of the 8 stab wounds; the killer had twisted the knife each time. James, coughing up blood with every word, spoke for the last time before the EMTs arrived: “''I’m sorry he got away, John. Tell my family…”'' James died before he could get the words out of his mouth. He had only been 24 and a young policeman in the second month of his career. Amanda was 23 years old and had so many big ideas and future plans, and she seemed to depend upon John for support and companionship. He wanted to spend the entirety of his life with her, right down to his last breath. He wanted to be there for her to provide her with anything she needed or wanted, and to protect her from the rest of the world. She wanted children that he knew. He had contemplated it himself, but was afraid that if he brought a child into the world as a cop, he may be killed and the child would not have him. But now, he thought it may be a worthwhile risk. A burning feeling flared in his chest, and he sat up.

“Let’s go inside. Come on.” He said. He got up and put his gun in its holster then wrapped it in his jacket.

“Ok, my big man. Let’s go.” Said Amanda. She picked up John’s shoes and walked with him to their two story house.

As they reached the house, John could not help but breathe a heavy breath as they entered and went upstairs. He followed Amanda into their bedroom and threw his jacket with the gun to the floor. Amanda set his shoes down and turned to face him. John wasted no time. He held her face and kissed her with passion, while she hugged his neck and kissed him back. He reached down and ran his hand gently up Amanda’s tail, and she began to unbutton his shirt, which was untucked. Once she got it off, she pushed him over to the bed, where he sat down on the edge, and she opened his belt buckle. John reached up with one hand and untied the lace of the gown, and pulled it down from her shoulders. She unzipped his pants and kissed him again, and then pushed him down so that he lay across the bed with his legs over the side. She gently lay on top of him and kissed him again as he pulled her dress down, and she pulled his pants off. John lifted his legs onto the bed, with Amanda still atop him, and wrapped his arms around her in a loving embrace while continuing his kissing and caressing. She kissed him while massaging his neck and shoulders, and playing with his whiskers. Holding Amanda close, John unsnapped her bra, and pulled it off, while using his toes to remove his socks. Amanda sat up and straddled John’s midsection. She reached down and grasped John’s wrists and placed his hands on her breasts. His eyes found hers, and they both let their minds run free as they made love there for an hour. John did not bother with condoms this time.

CHAPTER TWO: A MAN’S WISH

John sat upright that morning at the kitchen table, while Amanda made breakfast. He wore another pair of his finely creased black pants, a grey dress shirt, and a gold and black striped necktie. His gun was holstered to his hip, and his badge newly polished rested next to it. Amanda sat a plate of eggs and toast in front of him, and sat down her own plate.

“Ready for work?” she asked.

“I suppose so. We have a lead to a potential killer to follow up on. I hope it goes somewhere.” John replied.

“Well, good luck with it. Hold on. Give me your gun.” Said Amanda.

“What do you want it for? I could have sworn that you hated guns until yesterday!” John said as he withdrew his pistol.

“I don’t hate them, I just don’t see a need for them. And I am going to clean it.” She replied. John handed her his gun.

“Aren’t you going to eat first?” John asked.

“Later.” Said Amanda. She walked upstairs, holding the gun as if it were a dead, rotting thing.

John resumed eating his breakfast and sipping his coffee. He was sure that the suspect lead was a good one, and would probably lead to an arrest and conviction. He wanted to tell the victim’s families that the killers were both in custody, and they could feel better knowing that they would get justice.

Later that day, John sat in an office room in his swivel chair, arms crossed and a bored look on his face. On the other side of John’s desk sat his partner and childhood friend, Kenneth Bailey, whom everybody called Ken or Kenny. Ken was a tall man, but about an inch and a half shorter than John. He had medium sized arms that were muscled heavily at the top, but not the bottom. He had a lot of off-white fur on his body, and a black patch of fur on his forehead, and the end of his bushy tail was black. The fur on his head always stayed in a neat, short spike fashion, formal yet stylish. His short ears always seemed to be raised, even when he slept [which he did often on slow days]. His voice was a nice one, deep yet friendly, with a business like tone. Being the same age as John, Ken seemed to value life and his family much in the same way John did. The difference was that he was married and had a five year old daughter, who had inherited his wits and intelligence. She had gotten her mother’s pale blue eyes, though, rather than Ken’s grey eyes. Ken always carried his own gun, rather than his police issued weapon, which was a Glock 17, like John’s. He liked his pistol much more. Ken carried a Sig Sauer P229, chambered in .357 SIG. He liked the novelty of the round; the little bottle nosed .357 SIG round was uncommon. Though the bullet is the same size as a 9mm Luger, like in the standard issue Glock 17, it packs a heavier punch. They both sat there in John’s office, waiting for confirmation on the location of the murder suspect who they had got a lead on the previous day. Ken was sitting in his chair leaning forward, staring at the phone on John’s desk, as though willing it to ring.

“You know, staring at the phone and saying ‘Come on’ over and over again is not gonna help.” John said.

“I know. God, I just wish they’d hurry up and find this guy. How are they searching if they don’t know his name anyway?” Ken replied.

“The other guy, Jay Jay, is supposed to be helping them.” Said John.

“You mean we are waiting for a con and murderer to tell us the location of his best friend and accomplice? Whatever he was called…” Ken asked, in a disgruntled and somewhat amused tone.

“Pretty much. They apparently call the guy ‘Sharpie’, according to Jay Jay.” Said John.

“Sharpie? Like the markers?” Ken asked, looking confused.

“I guess so. It’s all we have to go on, but it seems like a good lead.” John said.

“Well, fuck it. We’ll see soon enough… I hope.” Said Ken, looking at the phone with a wishful stare.

“Hey Ken, can I talk to you about something?” John asked.

“Sure thing. What’s on your mind?” said Ken.

“I have been thinking about marrying Amanda and having a kid. What do you think?” said John.

“That’s great! When you gonna ask her?” Ken said, sitting upright in his seat.

“I was thinking about proposing sometime this week, maybe on Saturday evening. In the garden. She always loves sitting in the garden at night.” Said John.

“Hey man, go for it. She loves you so damn much, she’ll probably suffocate you with the kissing and shit that will follow the question!” Ken said.

“You really think she’ll marry me? I mean, it’s hard living with a cop.” John asked.

“That woman loves you more than God does, John. I have no doubt that she’ll marry you on the spot.” Ken replied.

“Thanks Ken. I really appreciate your opinions.” Said John.

“Don’t mention it.” Ken said, waving his hand.

Suddenly, there was a loud nock at the door, followed by the voice of the head of the department, William Lovett.

“Leiter, open up. Got something here.” He said.

Ken rolled his chair across the office to open the door. Lovett stepped inside, holding a file in his arms. William Lovett was a very big guy, standing at 6’4”, and with the musculature of a heavyweight boxer. He had white and orange fur and a bushy tail. The fur on top of his head was orange, and he kept it cut short, except on his ears, which flopped about slightly and had thick two tone orange and white fur on them. His hard, stone grey eyes were enough to terrify suspects into talking during interrogations, and his deep, booming voice aided him in most of his daily tasks, most of which involved shouting directives across cubicle rooms and down hallways. He almost always wore a black dress shirt and dress pants, and a gold or American flag colored necktie. He also had a pair of Oakley’s sunglasses perched over his brow at almost any point in time, and a cigarette in his mouth. The fur of his chin grew outward about two inches and curved towards his neck. He had been diligently working on this murder case, and had stayed up all night more than once going over evidence, and did so with other cases. He carried with him his own personal sidearm, since he, like Ken, had disdain for the Glock. He carried a Kimber Handguns Desert Warrior .45 caliber pistol. He had used it once to stop a robber from killing a bank teller. He had since never had to draw it in the line of duty, but regularly practiced at the firing range.

“Ok, you two. Got good news and annoying news.” He said.

“Ok, what’s the good news?” asked John.

“We got a location on Sharpie and two people he seems to hang around with.” Said Lovett.

“Yes!” said Ken, punching his leg.

“What’s the annoying news?” asked John.

“We can’t take them today.” Lovett said, sounding as disappointed as he looked.

“Fuck me sideways! Why not?!” said Ken, looking at Lovett with disbelief.

“They don’t know exactly what they are doing at the location. It is an old apartment in the projects, and not many people come and go, at least not in a way you can tell whether there is a steady flow or not. Too risky. They are planning something out.” Said Lovett.

“Who is ‘they’, exactly?” said Ken, in a voice that carried heavy contempt.

“The FBI. That is who ‘they’ are.” Lovett said.

“What? Why?” said Ken, looking more confused than ever.

“Yeah, what does the FBI have to do with it? Why are they in it?” asked John, who had been sitting quietly in his seat. Now, he sat upright and looked intently at Lovett.

“This is why.” Said Lovett, withdrawing a photo from the file folder. “This here, is ‘Sharpie’.”

Lovett put the photo down on John’s desk, and both he and Ken looked at the face upon it, and then John’s eye’s grew livid.

“Son of a fucking bitch. Him.” John growled through barred teeth. He looked back at the photo.

Staring back at him was the white fur covered face of Michael Setter, a wanted felon. And John suddenly knew what the FBI wanted with him: Sharpie was a cop killer. He was the man that young policeman James Green was trying to arrest before John found him laying on a kitchen floor, bleeding and in agony, stabbed eight times in the torso. And he now understood the nickname ‘Sharpie’. Michael Setter loved his knives.

“That fuck. What are they planning? I want a piece of his ass!” Ken exclaimed.

“I don’t know yet. SWAT is in on it, too.” Lovett replied.

“Well shit. When are they gonna try to get him?” John asked.

“I have arranged for you two to go in for him Monday, SWAT will be there to assist. Once he is in custody, we hand him to the FBI.” Said Lovett.

“At least we get to grab him.” Ken said.

At the end of the work day, John did not immediately drive home. Instead, he drove into town and to a local jewelry store. There, for a total of nine hundred dollars, he purchased a diamond ring wit a sapphire in the middle, surrounded by a wedding cake style tower of diamonds, all set in white gold. He hid the ring in his briefcase, and headed home to Amanda. He decided that he would propose to her in their garden after a candle lit dinner, on the upcoming Saturday afternoon. He smiled to himself as he turned into the driveway.

CHAPTER THREE: COUPLE

John lay in bed that Friday night, looking at Amanda, who was circling his navel with her fingers, and tracing his muscles.

“You know, I love you just so much. You just don’t know.” John said to her, leaning over and kissing her forehead lightly.

“I love you too, detective. Ha ha ha.” She replied, giggling as she raised her head to kiss John’s ear.

John exhaled heavily, thinking of how great his life would be if he always had Amanda to come home to.

“Come here.” John said, sitting up in the bed.

Amanda rolled over and sat up, and leaned forward to John in a long kiss. John cupped her head in his arms and pulled her down with him as he collapsed back onto the pillows, and continued kissing her lovingly. Slowly, and with a giggle, Amanda reached downward to John’s boxer shorts, and into the slot in front. She smiled as she found him, and leaned down to John’s ear, with drawing her hand.

“How much do you love me, again?” She asked in a lustful voice.

“More than life itself. I love you enough to give up everything I have to give my self to you and nothing else.” John said.

“Oh, you are just so very sweet. So caring and tender, John. I love you enough to be with you through all of hell and more.” Said Amanda as she rose up.

Amanda removed her bra and panties, and lay atop of John, kissing him passionately. John caressed all over her body as he kissed her back and removed his boxers. Then they were both lost in each other.

Saturday morning came bright and clear. John awoke as usual to find that Amanda had woken up and gone downstairs. John also realized he was still naked, and groped about for his underwear. Unable to find them, he walked to the dresser, removed a pair, and walked to the master bathroom for a shower. Finishing, he went back to the bedroom, and dressed himself in khaki shorts and a Hawaiian button down shirt and white undershirt. He wore a pair of flip flops, and sunglasses. He walked downstairs to see Amanda.

“Good morning, beach boy!” said Amanda as John entered the kitchen.

“Good morning. Guess I woke up late.” Said John.

“About an hour late. Your breakfast is on the table. It is still warm, I am sure.” Said Amanda.

“Thank you. Hey, wanna go to the park today and feed the ducks?” John said to her as he went into the kitchen.

“Sure. I love feeding them, they are so cute.” Amanda said, rising off the couch and walking to him. She put a finger on his nose and then kissed him. “Cute just like you.”

“Ok. We’ll pack a lunch and eat there.” Said John.

As John sat down at the kitchen table to eat while Amanda got properly dressed, he thought of all the great things that he would do with Amanda as his wife.

Later that day, John and Amanda sat on the boardwalk circling a large lake at the local park. Amanda wore a tank top and khaki shorts similar to John’s, and flip flops. They had eaten a luch of sandwiches and salads, and were now sitting with their heads together, feeding a large group of ducks and the occasional turtle. They had the park mostly to themselves, as it was a rather hot day. John threw a piece of bread into the water, and the ducks swarmed it. A little turtle swiped a tiny chunk that floated out of the big gathering of birds. John reached over and put his arm around Amanda’s neck and held her close to him. She looked up at him and smiled, and kissed him lightly on the chin.

“My big boy. All mine.” She said, wrapping her arm as far as she could around John’s middle.

“Woof.” Said John, chuckling.

“Ha ha ha. You are so precious! That’s why you’re all mine.” Said Amanda.

“You can keep me forever.” John said.

Later, as the night set, John had set up a table next to the fountain in their garden, and lit two candles. He had a dinner of London Broil, salad and mashed potatoes planned. He was cooking this night, while Amanda waited outside for him, looking at the night sky, counting stars. John walked upstairs and retrieved the ring pocketing it. He went back downstairs, and filled their plates. He took them outside and placed them on the table in the garden, and went back to fetch some champagne and glasses. When he returned, he filled the glasses and sat down.

“Wow, John! You’ve made quite a nice dinner here. I’m impressed!” said Amanda.

“Yes. Contrary to popular belief, we men can cook a dinner that is not micro waved, we just prefer the microwave to having to use a stove.” John said, grinning as he ate some of his steak.

“Ha, that’s true. Well, since you made dinner tonight, I’ll go in place of you to your job Monday.” Amanda replied, laughing.

“Oh, no no no. Much to dangerous.” Said John, mocking a protective mother.

“Contrary to popular belief, us women can do your jobs, too. You seen me use the gun.” Said Amanda.

“Ha ha ha, yes I did. But I have yet to see you attempt to fire one.” John replied.

“Ok, you have me there.” Said Amanda.

John took a swallow of champagne and readied himself. He slipped his right hand into his pocket.

“You know, I have been doing some thinking lately.” John said.

“Really? What kind of thinking?” Amanda asked.

“Future thinking and planning. You know, rest of our lives type of thing.” He said. He then gripped the ring.

“And what did you come up with?” asked Amanda.

“Not much. Just a little bit of this and that. Anyway… oh, I almost forgot. Someone delivered this to me but I think it’s for you.” John said, and he pulled out the ring and held it in front of Amanda, who dropped her fork and held her hands over her mouth, letting out a gasp.

“OH MY GOD! John!” she exclaimed.

“Amanda, will you spend the rest of your life with me?” John said, standing up and circling the table over to Amanda, then going down on one knee.

“Yes! Of course I will! John, you are so amazing! I love you so much!” Amanda said as John slid the ring onto her finger, then stood up and kissed her with fiery passion.

Suddenly, John’s phone rang. He would have ignored it, but he recognized the ringtone as that of Ken. He knew Ken, especially since he knew the plan John had for the night, would not call him unless it was very important. John reached for his phone.

“Yes Ken? What is it?” he asked.

“Sorry man, but plan change. We are taking Setter tonight. I need you to get ready and come pick me up.” Said Ken. Then he hung up.

Amanda, having heard Ken, looked up at John, then smiled and nodded for him to go. She kissed him once more and watched him hurry into the house.

John emerged from the front door, dressed in his usual attire, shield and gun at his side. He jumped into his car and drove off towards Ken’s house. Arriving, Ken jumped into the passenger seat, dressed in a sky blue dress shirt and black dress pants.

“Let’s go. You know where the place is?” he said.

“Yes. Let’s get this fucker.” John replied.

“You asked her?” Ken asked.

“Yes.” John said to him.

“Good.” Said Ken.

CHAPTER FOUR: YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT

John and Ken sat in the car, parked across the street from an old, run down apartment building, where few lights were on. John had his shotgun in his hand, waiting for the time to go in. Ken, ever more impatient, kept looking at the door of the apartment building and then his watch.

“Oh my fuckin’ God! What is the fucking hold up?” Ken said.

“I don’t know. It’ll be any time now, I’m sure.” Said John.

“Why the fuck are we waiting anyway? We saw that cock sucking bastard go in twenty minutes ago!” Ken exclaimed.

“We are waiting for the green light.” John said, trying to stay calm, his patience thinning.

“I know that, but WHY? We know where he is! It is not going to be that Goddamn difficult!” Ken said.

“Just calm down. Any time now, Ken.” John said.

“I’m fucking callin’ Lovett.” Ken said, reaching for the CB radio.

“Lovett, it’s Bailey. What’s the major hold up?” he asked.

“They are putting together a prep team.” Said Lovett over the radio.

“A prep team! What the fuck is that?” Ken said.

“Federal shit. Don’t ask, because I don’t know.” Said Lovett.

“Fucking feds!” Ken yelled.

They waited another ten minutes, and suddenly, a voice spoke from the CB.

“''Unit two, green light. I repeat, green light.''” It said.

“Fucking finally!” Ken said.

“''Unit two, be advised. Suspect is believed to be accompanied by two other males. Exercise caution. SWAT is waiting to back you up. Over.''” Said the CB.

“Rodger, understood.” Said John, and he cocked his shotgun as he stepped out of the car.

“Let’s give these fuckers their worth!” said Ken, drawing his pistol.

The two detectives made their way into the old building, guns at the ready. They headed up to the third floor, to the room the suspect was supposed to be in. They found the door slightly open.

“You ready?” Ken asked, pointing his gun into the door.

“Let’s do it.” John said.

Ken pushed the door open and entered, John right behind him. What they saw froze them in shock:

The room was covered with debris; old boxes, clothing, food, cans, bottles, dishes, napkins, papers, boards, cigarette butts and ashes, and a multitude of other things. But his is not what froze them in their steps. The room started as a family room with a connected kitchen, and a hallway turning past the kitchen. On the right side of the room, near the kitchen, there was a loveseat against the wall. On it lay a shirtless man in navy blue jogging pants, He lay across the loveseat, feet facing the door, with his head propped up on the arm of the loveseat. His right arm hung over the side and his mouth hung open slightly. There was a foot long hunting knife thrust into his throat where the neck was bent. It had been thrust in so forcefully that it had severed the neck bone, and was sticking into the arm of the loveseat. The man’s grey fur around his cheeks had blood caked on it from where it had flowed from his mouth, and the couch cushion under him was covered in it, and some had pooled on his chest.

To add to the horror, in the little corner between the kitchen and loveseat, another younger man sat against the wall, his head facing forward, arms hanging limp at his sides. His eyes were rolled up into his head, and he had an enormous slit from ear to ear, right across his throat. He had soft white fur, and wore a light green shirt and blue jeans. His left ear was severed. A large amount of blood had run down the side of his head and onto his shoulder. From the cut on his throat, blood had soaked his front and some of his legs, and was all over the wall and floor. Upon closer inspection, John found the severed ear clenched in the man’s fist. Most of the blood was dried, and John could tell that the men had been dead for several hours. Suddenly, Ken turned into the hallway, gun raised.

“DON’T MOVE! I’LL SHOOT! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” he yelled.

John turned into the hall and saw Ken approaching a man who had his back turned to them, clad only in loose jean shorts, facing into a bedroom doorway. John blocked the hall, shotgun held by his side in one hand. Ken lowered his pistol and approached Setter.

“You have the right to—“ his words were cut short.

With lightning speed, Setter turned around, a pistol in hand. In a fluid motion, he grabbed Ken’s wrist, bending him slightly forward and pressed the gun into his stomach and fired. Ken’s eyes grew wide with shock and released his pistol. With hardly a second between the first shot, Setter raised his gun into Ken’s left eye and fired again. The first shot had passed through Ken’s intestines and exited his back. The bullet had traveled slightly upward and struck John in the left arm, causing him to throw the shotgun behind him as his grip released. The second shot went into Ken’s eye and blew out the back of his skull, splattering John with blood and brain matter. Setter released Ken, who slumped sideways into the wall and slid to the floor, leaving a long smear of blood, facing the open doorway the killer had been standing in. Setter aimed at John, but in a much practiced movement, John drew his Glock and fired five times, striking Setter four times in the chest and once in the forehead. Setter stood for a moment, eyes wide and a surprised look on his face, still pointing the gun at John. He fired once, hitting John in the right side directly below his ribcage. John fell, but fired his pistol again from the ground. The bullet went upward into Setter’s neck and shattered the top of his skull. He fell backwards and lay sprawled with his head lying in the bedroom.

John stood up and, holding his side, which was bleeding steadily, walked over to Ken, who lay sideways in the hallway, his legs bent against the left wall and his head propped up against the right wall slightly. As John reached him, he looked down at him. Ken was facing away from John, towards Setter, with a massive amount of blood pouring from his head. John dropped to his knees, covered in his own and Ken’s blood. He looked at Ken’s head, and saw that his ears were still straight. But he was dead. John, seeing it protruding from Ken’s ear, reached down and removed a 10mm shell casing from inside. He had his gun gripped tightly, and his muscles in both arms flexed fully despite the tremendous pain. He looked down at the body of his friend, and closed his eyes tight. Tears began to stream from them, dripping down onto Ken’s shoulder. The SWAT team arrived, lead by Lovett, who stopped in the hallway entrance when he saw John, flanked by two men in combat gear. Lovett holstered his sidearm, and approached John. When he reached John, he crouched down beside him, and in an abnormally gentle and friendly manner, grasped John’s arm and lead him out of the apartment ant to an ambulance. On the way out, he gently wiped some of the blood and brain and tears from John’s face. He sat John down in the ambulance, where John resisted all attempts to take his gun, and to strap him to a stretcher. When they finally arrived at the hospital, John passed out from blood loss.

CHAPTER FIVE: PATERNITY

John awoke two hours later, his arm in a sling, laying in a hospital bed. He was surrounded by people, all looking at him like he was the most sad thing they had ever seen. Directly beside him, Amanda sat, lightly stroking his cheeks, staring intently into his face.

“Hello.” She said quietly. “They got the bullets out, and they said you can leave tomorrow.”

“Great, I can’t wait to be home.” John said in a croaky voice.

He looked over towards the other side of the room and saw Ken’s wife and daughter looking at him, tears running from their faces. Then he remembered: Ken was dead. He began to cry.

“Oh my God, Kenny! Kenny!” he wailed.

“He is at peace now, John. He is at peace.” Said Amanda, fighting off tears.

“Oh, my God, I’m sorry… I couldn’t save him! He was right in front of me and I let him die!” John screamed to Ken’s wife, who stood up and approached him, and held his arm.

“No, it was not you. He was gone before he hit the ground, they said.” Said Ken’s wife.

“I’m so so sorry! I should have been faster!” John exclaimed.

“Honey, it is not your fault. Ken would not want you to blame yourself! Look at me. I have good news.” Said Amanda.

“What could possibly be good right now? I propose to the woman I love, then have to leave early, then my friend gets shot dead and I am shot! What could possibly be worse?” John said.

“Listen John. You are a daddy. Found out tonight.” Said Amanda.

John stopped crying at once. He was wondering whether he had heard correctly or if the medicine had gotten to him.

“What?” he asked quietly.

“You are a brand new daddy. You are going to have a baby, John.” Amanda said.

“I… oh Amanda… what can I say?” he asked

“You don’t need to say anything. Just be proud.” Amanda said, rubbing John’s ear.

“I… love you.” John whispered. Then he passed out from the medication.

“I love you too, John. I love you too.” Said Amanda.

CHAPTER SIX: 52 YEARS LATER

John lay on his bed, breathing lightly, looking at Amanda. His son Paul, a Major General in the US Army, sat in a chair beside him. At eighty years old, John was weak and bedridden. Though he could walk with the use of a staff, the doctors advised against it. He got up to use the bathroom, eat, or sit on the front porch of his home. His grandson, Jerry, a Staff Sergeant in the Army, looked at him intently.

“Dad, I have some pictures to show you. They are from the parade me and Jery went to last weekend.” Said Paul.

“Yeah, I took as many as I could, so you would be able to have some.” Said Jerry.

“Let me see them, dear.” Said Amanda. Jerry handed her a photo album.

“Well, you did take a bunch, didn’t you?” she said, looking at the photos. “Here, John, look at these.”

“They are nice. I’m glad you had a good time. How’s the military doing you boys?” said John in his now wispy voice.

“Just fine, dad. Just fine.” said Paul.

“I thought being a general probably was not that hard. How about you, Jerry?” said John.

“It’s working well, I am being promoted to Master Sergeant this week.” Said Jerry.

“Oh, good for you!” said Amanda.

“Excellent, my boy. Great work.” Said John.

Two months later, John died in his sleep. Amanda lived to be ninety- four, and died of old age in a rest home.

THE END

Now, time to wait for the next short story by Christian Webster, an erotic story about a bunch of young lovers who can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. See all the fun and games in Christian Webster’s Furry Magnetism!