Striped, Collared and Heated Chapter 48

Sadly, Agent Boon was not having nearly as much fun as I. While I lived in the light and warmth of the Mistress’s truth, she suffered through the lie of what she once pretended to be:

Agent Boon stood in a semicircle of MDA officers, all watching a chiseled jaw man with far too white teeth talk at them about a raid on some illegal magic shop that they’d be conducting in about a half hour. Boon struggled to glean the info required to not fuck it up. Her udder ached so fucking bad. Nobody saw it. The skin suit Boon wore betrayed nothing of her true body, the course golden fur, no lumps in her shirt or pants to betray her breasts or udder. It even had a flaccid cock between its legs. When she’d first put it on, it been such a perfect fit that Boon nearly started to think of herself as himself again. It hadn’t taken more than 15 minutes that she started to notice the discomfort. The way it held her tail against her leg, the pressure that trapped her ears to her head, the unsettling way it forced her heels to the ground. Everything got worse as her udder slowly filled throughout the day.

No one could see it, but she could feel it. Far worse than the dysphoria that she’d blocked from her mind most of her life or even after the chaos, demons had enhanced it somehow. It made every movement a discomfort, this old body no longer fit her, probably never had in the first place. It took so much of her mental processes just to not rip it off and throw it at the director’s stupid head.

She didn’t though. She knew the iron cages that awaited her if she did or even if she slipped up at little bit. Boon had put countless other people in those cells, made comments and threats that made her sick to her stomach. Last night, she’d managed to maintain the thought, the idea that the MDA were the good guys. Even if she herself had been corrupted, that she personally had to collude with the tigress to protect Vire. She had hoped that the MDA would root her out and put a stop to her spreading corruption. 

So she’d gone into the Wild district hoping that the director would quickly realize that he was sniffing at the wrong tree. That there were no agents of the Countess of Moo in the city and something else had to be the source.

Instead, they’d broken down door after door into the homes of terrified people, threatened them and if they’d shown one flash of defiance, slapped iron manacles on their wrists. Each time they went click it Boon felt an iron bolt shoot through her heart. She’d managed to talk Moose into letting a few of them go, but he mostly shrugged, “You know the drill, the numbers gotta come from somewhere.”

Boon did know, she’d done this before but the guilty pangs had never been this bad, it all been this numbness. It happened. All part of keeping the peace. She vaguely remembered flashes of anger when she’d started. It wasn’t really like she had a choice about working for the MDA herself. Not many people could see chaos magics at all.   

Now this shop they were about the raid, it had absolutely nothing to do with the tower of Moo. The fey touched that owned it were elemental based not even close to the nature or bovine alignments of the tower. The real reason for a raid? The shop had gone viral for some reason or another.

Nobody was in the shop when they stormed it. The Director was so angry he literally tore the place apart with his bare hands. Then he yelled at Agent Moose for awhile about moles and turncoats. It was the first time he’d even mentioned Vire. Agent Moose took as if he were an impassive wall, occasionally grunting “yes sir,” or “no sir.”

Once the director stormed out, whatever personal vendetta he had stymied, the remaining agents shifted to “evidence collection.”

Agent Boon stewed in a rage that the suit refused to show on its face knowing that none of this would have bothered her a week ago. At least nothing that a double of whiskey after work wouldn’t fix. That made it worse.

When Agent Moose approached her as things were wrapping up Boon nearly head-butted him, if it weren’t for the suit, she probably would have. The agent offered her a cellophane wrap cigar.

Boon starred at it for a moment. 

“Its clean. Detector boys certified and I ran an iron bar over it to be sure.” Moose said, wiggling the cigar slightly. 

With a sigh, Boon took it. Moose took one out of the wrappings, cut the tip and lit it. Boon aped the motions, accepting Moose’s light. 

“Your tense.” He observed.

“This is pointless.” Boon said, puffing on the cigar.

“I know. The director is not in the mood for suggestions or feedback in case you haven’t noticed.” Moose blew a smoke ring, it spun lazily away. “You still up for a little off the books hunting tonight? Understand if no, been a busier day than I thought.”

Boon almost said no, hunting would mean even more time in the damn skin suit but something in Moose’s tired callous eyes stopped her. Something about the offer had become non-optional. Did he suspect something?

“Sure, where we meeting up?” Boon asked.

“Your call.”

Boon thought about it, rolling smoke within his mouth before blowing it out. “Gimmie an hour after clock out. I’ve gotta gather my thoughts.” She said but did not add, And milk myself before I explode.

He coughed once, “Sounds good, we all ought to change into something… off duty for this. We’ll be at your place at sundownish.”

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“Baaaaaah!” Boon bleated with relief as the milker worked its magic on all four of her teats. Her pussy cried out for the session with the bull dildo but she couldn’t risk that now. She had the skin suit peeled down to her thighs and her body shivered with joy to as the air mingled with her skin, her true skin. She smiled at herself in the mirror, wrapped her long hair around her hands and pushed it on top of her head. Oh, that was fetching, old-fashioned for sure, but she could lean into that. She suddenly wanted an apron and puffy shouldered dress from the 50s. 

“You’re a little young to be a MILF!” she told her reflection with a giggle. Then gave a bleating sigh. She didn’t want to go out to lead agents on a wild goose chase, she wanted to make cookies and bring them to Vire. Not that she knew where the Tigress was, but she could feel a… touch of her? Like the faintest brush of her whiskers on her horns. Horns, that now mostly free of the suit, still felt an itch to slam into something or someone.

Sadly, she did not have time for cookies, she barely had time to finish her milking before a posse would be showing up at her door. Old Boon barely cooked. He did however, occasionally brag about his coffee brewing skills though. Brewing up some espresso wouldn’t be that out of character for the old Boon would it? She glanced at the time and swore. Sunset would be coming far to swiftly, she unplugged herself. Her udder still had a bit of weight to it, but she’d released the pressure.

She pulled on the skin suit and it drew her new curves and protrusions into an extra dimension as she pulled up the zipper. After tossing the milk into the back yard, she pulled on rarely used jeans and t-shirts. Then started grinding beans for the espresso machine. As the thing heated up, she had a whim. Boon had always liked her coffee black as night, but most of the MDA drank dirty water from the (heavily warded) office pot or sweet trash from starburbs. She grabbed a past date carton of half and half from the fridge, poured its contents down the sink. The skin suit, apparently reading her mind, manifest a zipper right below her belly button. Opening her pants first, then the suit, allowed quick access to her udder. A few squirts and the carton was half full. The milk within swam with chaos magic in a way that the stuff she’d tossed to the grass had not.

“Am I really doing this?” She asked herself, holding the carton. The events of the day flashed through her mind as she searched for some feeling of compulsion, something the Tigress had put into her psyche. She found nothing but her own thoughts, and she’d been trained to detect foreign ones. “Yes I am, a few more does for your herd Vire.” Putting the carton in the fridge, she zipped herself back up and started brewing.

She gotten through three espressos, not including one she’d downed herself when headlights illuminated her curtains, then another set flashed by. Boon wondered how big this posse would be getting. 

Looking out he window, she spotted a pickup truck and SUV, both midnight black, double parking in front of the house. Two people got out of the truck, and Moose from the SUV, easily ID’d by his doorway spanning shoulders. Boon duck back into the bedroom to check the mirror briefly. Nothing out of place. She adjusted her stance to have a bit more swagger.  Then hurried to open the door. 

Moose was flanked by another local agent, Kine, whom Boon had worked with briefly and an unfamiliar woman. The agents, despite the casual attire, flannel for Moose, polo shirt for Kine held themselves like agents, schooled expressions projecting a quiet confidence menace. Despite that, Boon could tell Moose was annoyed. The woman grinned like a girl in a candy shop complete with one missing front tooth. She wore a camo military jacket and tight pants that almost matched the pattern. The numerous pockets over flowed with gear, a cross bow holstered at her hip, night vison goggles strapped to her chest and one of extra protective symbol known to the general public strapped to her for arm. 

“Boon you’ve met Kine from assessments,” Moose said as we nodded at each other, then continued, “Meet Trisha, Kine’s…”

“fiancé!” Trisha thrust her hand at me. “Wedding’s in two months. Sorry to butt in on your little boys night out but I’m not going miss a chance to bag a demon on account that I shouldn’t eavesdrop on the phone.”  

Kine winced. “Trisha’s earned a few bounties here and there. She’s a real good shot with an iron bolt.”

“Hrmmm.” Moose’s noncommittal noise was the opposite.

“Uh. Happy to have you, Trisha. Come on in.” Boon said with forced cheer. This woman seemed to be an agent of chaos all by herself. Something glimmered in her chest as she bounced through the door. A hint of chaos corruption already? Did the Tigress send her? No, didn’t matter. Boon gestured to the table where the coffee waited. “Brewed us some pickme ups before we get started.”

“I’m always in need of a bit more zing!” Trisha tossed back a shot before Kine’s nervous swallow was completed. 

Meanwhile, Boon handed Moose a cup, who looked down into black liquid as if it might bite him. “Appreciate the thought-”

“But its heart burn in liquid form.” Boon nodded as if she’d forgotten, “I got some half and half if you need to dilute my art. Hang on.” She spun to walk into the kitchen, “How bout you Kine?”

“If you can’t handle it hunny bun then I’ll take it off your hands.” Trisha reached for the last cup but Kine scooped it up from the table first.

“Uuuh creme and sugar please.” Kine called. 

Trisha scoffed as Boon fetched the very fresh cream and a half-empty box of sugar cubes. Both Kine and Moose diluted their expresso with equal parts creme, Kine stirred in two cubes. They still winced as they downed it. Boon used her darkest roast and packed the grounds as tightly as she could to disguise the fact it wasn’t half and half at all. As she watched the chaos magic flow through their bodies, her tail twitched with satisfaction beneath the skin suit.

“Wimps.” Trisha chided the pair of them, then turned to Boon “So where and what we hunting tonight? Kine refused to say beyond its demon. I got carboy of holy water in the truck.”

Boon snorted, “I don’t think that works on chaos demons. They have banes, weaknesses, but its different for each one. We’ll be investigating some reports that headquarters are overlooking and capture some clear evidence that chaos magics are at work. Hopefully, they’ll lead us to the creatures who created the Tower of Moo.”

They nodded and Boon smirked. She had no plan to lead these three to the tiger’s den but she’d get to Vire one way or another.