Customer Service

Sarah growled, and crumpled the paper she’d been reading into a little ball, tossing it onto the hardwood floor. It rolled under an end table.

“Hmm?” Chipotle looked over at the younger—but taller—wolf-girl. The red wolf had thrown herself back against the couch, pouting in a way which managed to look simultaneously cute and vaguely sinister.

Coyotes should be able to manage that, too, Chipotle thought, but she’d never herself managed to look intimidating except for the times Sarah or Jenora had enlarged her. (She still didn’t think she looked too intimidating that way, but paws eight feet across were intimidating by default.)

“Oh, just more problems with the phone bill. I’m going to have to go down to the office in person.” Sarah’s ears flattened, nearly disappearing into the unruly mane of red hair. “I’m close to biting a few people’s heads off.”

Chipotle paused in her dish-washing, and flashed the wolf that kind of don’t even think about it, young lady expression usually only parents could manage.

Sarah blinked, then grinned, letting a sigh. “Not literally, Chipotle.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Sarah pouted again. “I’m not that bad.”

The coyote waved a wooden spoon at Sarah. “Dis is coming from de girl who complained about de mail being late by shrinking down de post office truck and sending it to de postmaster FedEx.”

“Well, they got it there on time, which was the point. And I let the driver go,” she said defensively, although her emerald eyes held an amused gleam.

“You’re lucky dey didn’t send you to prison.” Chipotle turned back to the dishes, and resumed scrubbing a pot. “Right. Dey’re lucky dey didn’t send her to prison,” she muttered under her breath.

Sarah swiveled an ear, not quite making out the coyote’s words, but sensing their direction. She grinned. “Oh, you worry too much. I’m a nice squirrel. Er, wolf.”

“Half-squirrel faerie werewolf.”

“Whatever.” She yawned, and nestled into the couch’s corner. “I’ll go see them later today. Thanks for breakfast. That’s a lot more than I normally eat in the morning.”

Chipotle rolled her eyes. “Dat’s cause your little skunk guy’s idea of a complete breakfast is a frosted raspberry Pop-Tart. Somebody has to get you real food sometimes.”

Sarah giggled. “Well, I’m glad you’re here to do it for me, then.” She folded her arms over her chest, stretching her T-shirt a little, and swung her legs up on the couch.

“Are those my shorts?”

“Hmm?” The wolfgirl looked down. “Probably… yeah. I think these are cute, even though they’re a little tight on me.”

“And short. Aye caramba. People are going to think we’re sleeping together, girl.”

Sarah closed her eyes, grinning. “If we ever do, I bet we could charge admission.”

Chipotle threw the dishtowel at her.

It was a little past noon by the time Sarah reached the phone company, walking on foot. She paused outside the door, looking at the crumpled paper she’d been clutching, then walked on inside.

With only two people ahead of her, it still took nearly five minutes for her to get to the counter, a bored-looking mouse not much older than her own nineteen years sitting behind it. “Hello,” he said, barely cracking a smile.

“Hi.” She unfolded the paper in front of him, leaning over the counter window a little. “There’s a problem on my bill—”

“You’ll have to go over to the phones over there and call,” he said, pointing at a different counter.

“I called on the phones the last time I was here. And the time before that. I want you to take care of it.”

“I can’t do that. If you just –”

“Look,” Sarah said, sounding fatigued. “I don’t have this voicemail thing.” She leaned over more, and her nose bumped into the plastic separator window. “Grr.”

“Don’t get snappy,” the mouse said.

“I’m not snappy,” she said, growling.

His ears folded back. “Just go to the phones –”

Sarah fixed him with her gaze, lips pulling back from her teeth ever so slightly, focusing until he made the voiceless rrk noise she’d learned meant she’d tweaked the mouse’s vestige of she’s a carnivore and I’m prey instinct.

“You’re sitting next to a computer,” she said flatly.

He nodded once, quickly.

“It’s connected to the same computer system the person on the other end of that phone is using.”

“Uh –”

She leaned forward again, this time letting her fist hit the plastic. “It is.”

He nodded quickly again.

“So I want you to remove this service, while I watch. And we can make a comment in the comment field that says the nice wolfgirl doesn’t want to have to come in here again.”

“Uh.” He straightened, taking a step away from the counter, and made a motion with his hand over his head. “I think I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You can do this from home, really, if you call our 800 number.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed to slits, and she glanced at the burly, well-dressed tiger approaching her.

“Ma’am,” the tiger began, “if you come with –”

“Make me.”

The tiger paused. “What?”

Sarah stepped back from the counter, and crouched down on all fours. Then she shimmered, shifting up to well over four times her normal height—now almost thirty feet long from nose to feet. She thrust her nose down at the wide-eyed tiger as the green-blue light from her magic died down. “I said make me,” she growled.

The screaming started before he was able to respond. The few other customers bolted for the front door; she let them go. When one of the company clerks made a break for it, though, Sarah just lay down, slamming her foot back into the clerk and pinning the tiger underneath her. The frantic squirming against paw and breast made her feel like purring.

“Go on,” she said huskily to the tiger. “Escort me out.” She grinned ferally at the mouse, who backed up, then fled through a door behind the counter.

“Oh, no you don’t.” She raised a fist and smashed the counter effortlessly, clearing away enough of the rubble to let herself slide forward. The tiger’s muffled cries took on a hoarse, strangled element as he rolled along the floor under her, finally bounced along the length of one leg. The clerk she’d caught with her foot rode up on her paw a moment, lifted by two thick ebony toeclaws. They did merely glancing damage to the hapless fox only through sheer luck. When he fell off he curled up, whimpering as he watched the wolfgirl casually kick the remains of the counter against the door to block it.

Sarah peered through the interior door. A small office lay behind it, with four workers counting the mouse, all in various states of panic. “No other exit,” she growled, grinning wildly. “That’s a safety hazard… especially now.” She wrapped a hand around the edge of the doorframe, and pulled. The wall held for nearly a second before yielding to her strength, wood and plaster flying in a cloud as she pried and fist-hammered. Then, finally, she thrust her head and shoulders through.

The screaming started again.

Dragging herself partially through, Sarah stretched her arms out and raised her head, until she could feel her ears press against the ceiling. She glared down at the four in the room, and let out a low-pitched, long growl, teeth bared.

The sole woman in the room, a pretty Persian-furred cat, fainted.

Sarah watched her fall to the floor, then shook out her hair, letting it fall even more wildly around her, and changed her expression to a sweet, if toothy, smile. “I’d like to speak to the manager,” she said calmly.

“Wha… wha…” one of the people, a rather chubby, elderly raccoon managed to get out. He was clutching the side of a desk as if it was all that held him up. At the moment it might have been.

Sarah moved her head close to the raccoon. “Manager,” she repeated, raising her eyebrows. “Do you know who your manager is?”

He swallowed, and nodded. “T-that would be m-me.”

“Great.” She smiled sweetly. “Do you know why I’m here?”

“Um… are… you going to… eat us?”

The mouse whimpered audibly.

Sarah giggled. “You’re a clever little raccoon, aren’t you? I might, yes, but that’s not why I’m here.” She lowered her head to him until her nose pressed against his chest. “I’m here to make a complaint, you see,” she whispered conspiratorially. “That mouse was very rude and unhelpful to me.”

The raccoon looked over at the mouse with a desperate expression. “You’re fired!” He looked back at her hopefully, eyes mostly on the closest fang.

“Now, now.” She grinned. “You see, that’s not the first time I’ve had this kind of experience here… but since I’m such a nice giantess, I’m going to give you all one last chance to prove you can give me good customer service.”

Sarah started unzipping her shorts.

The fourth, up until this point silent, man, a young human, made a startled noise somewhat uncharacteristic for his species. “What are you doing?”

“You’re cute,” she growled, smiling a bit ferally. “You’re not dense, are you?”

He shook his head, eyes wide—and getting wider as Sarah pushed the shorts down and kicked them off.

“Great. And you look like a manly man, too.” She reached forward abruptly and closed a hand around him, then thrust him into her panties. He began struggling furiously, but she used both hands to work his legs through the leg holes, snapping the elastic shut again to trap him there. The little legs started kicking frantically.

Sarah rolled onto her back and picked up the just-revived woman, who took a full second to start screaming. “You… hmm.” She pulled her shirt up, and wedged the woman between her breasts.

“Mrrrrr!” She took a deep breath. “Now, you two are going to squirm… creatively. And where are you going, Mr. Manager?”

The raccoon had nearly made it to the door. “The customer is always right,” she snarled, pressing him against the wall abruptly with her foot. She rolled him a little so he was facing her pad, and pressed her big toe against his head. “The customer says ‘lick.’”

The manager grunted and wrestled with her toe, twisting his muzzle from side to side. She watched him, grinning faintly, and increased the pressure, curling her toes to pin one of his arms. “Go on.”

After another few seconds of fruitless fighting, the press of her pads was becoming crushing. It was an effort to turn his muzzle against the press of her toe so he could start licking, but he managed.

Sarah eased the pressure on the raccoon. “Mmmm. Good start. Mouseboy, get over here.”

He squeaked, and took a few shaky steps forward. “What… where…”

“Crawl under my tail.”

The mouse gaped.

“It’s a sensitive area,” she purred. “You could do wonders.” She grabbed him and slid him under her rump, lifting it a little until she felt some part of him—she wasn’t honestly sure which part—press against her tailbase. Then she dropped her weight on him, mrrring louder at the scream and the frantic struggling that ensued.

“Now, this is a pleasant test, isn’t it?” Sarah said, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. “The way you pass this is pretty simple, and I think you can all guess it. But there’s a time limit, and teacher grades… very… tough.”

It was less than two seconds before she sucked in her breath. The human had slipped one of his arms into her, and had begun rubbing. “Rrrr. Promising.”

The catwoman between her breasts started wriggling, then began scritching.

“Mmm. Up at the nipple, kitty. Do a little tweaking. Rrr! That’s… good…”

She breathed more deeply, and began to wriggle in place. Shortly her breath began catching, repeatedly, as her little helpers began to find the more sensitive areas on her. The raccoon’s nuzzling at her foot was becoming more enthusiastic, even with the slight rhythmic pressure and release of the smooth pad as her foot shifted back and forth against him.

“Rowr!” She took a slow breath, chest heaving, breasts lifting then compressing around the cat, who squirmed appreciatively. Or so Sarah thought—at least she appreciated it.

The human began to lick inside her.

Sarah shuddered, and began rolling her hips slowly. Mouseboy didn’t seem to be doing a whole lot, but it didn’t matter—the movement was enough to buffet him against her in ways which enhanced the sensation of the toys inside her, caressing her nipples, nuzzling her pawpads. “Oh, yes. Good.”

She wasn’t quite sure when the line was crossed, but it was there—the point when her arousal became high enough, her motions strong enough that the efforts of the office workers hardly mattered. Their weight, their presence—and, yes, their squirming—that was enough.

The wolfgirl began yipping, lightly, for her, each yip timed with a roll of her hip. Her toes curled and uncurled, her hands travelled over her breasts and between her legs, mashing her helpers in further. Each yip got sharper, the frequency faster. “Oh—oh—almost—take me!”

They did their best: the catwoman nipping hard at Sarah’s breast, legs kicking against the other; the human finding the wolf’s most sensitive areas inside and pulling with his lips and tongue; the raccoon hugging himself to her foot, nuzzling between and over the toes. They put as much strength as they could into it, so much the effort itself hurt.

And, just when they thought their hearts might burst from the exertion, Sarah threw back her head and howled.

Both feet kicked back, hard. The raccoon felt like he was being pushed through the wall as her foot slipped up his body, heel grinding into his hips, warm upper footpad enveloping his head suffocatingly.

One hand clenched around the breast the cat was on, squeezing hard, causing the woman to scream and kick frantically with her last ounce of strength.

And the human—well, for a few long moments, he might as well have been in a slick, hot velvet vise, the force of her climax ramming him out in a blast even as it seemed her spasms were trying to pull him back in.

“Ohhhh!” The giantess spasmed a second time, less sharply, then slowly curled up, breathing hard, raggedly. The raccoon slumped to the ground, panting himself.

“Ohh… yes.” She swallowed, still catching her breath, then fumbled to extract the human and the the catwoman. “You did well.”

She twisted onto her side, and moved her head closer to the raccoon, setting the two down next to their manager. “And you,” she said to the raccoon, “you have a bit of a paw fetish, don’t you?”

The raccoon blushed, stammering something incoherent.

Sarah grinned wickedly. “I’ve never gotten someone off with my paw before, I don’t think, but it was kind of fun for me, too.”

A moan behind her alerted her to the still-living state of the mouse. She frowned, and twisted back around to face him. “You, now… you didn’t really have your heart in it.”

The mouse whimpered, eyes widening. He started scrambling back.

Sarah moved to all fours, grinning ferally. “I did say that problem with voicemail had me angry enough to start biting people’s heads off…”

He rolled under a desk just in time to avoid the clash of teeth where he’d been. That was the end of the easy escape route, though. The mouse glanced over his shoulder, seeing Sarah turn and lower her head, mouth open and coming toward him, and screamed.

The other three in the room just gaped, their view mostly of Sarah’s rump and wagging tail as the giantess crouched, thrusting her muzzle under the desk. The mouse’s view was quite different, though—teeth approaching, then surrounding him. Then hot, wet darkness, and the start of the crunch –

“Sarah!”

The wolfgirl lifted her head abruptly, banging it against the top of the desk.

Desk?

“Sarah,” Chipotle said again, sounding a little more cross.

She sat up with a start, blinking her eyes. On Chipotle’s couch.

“You need to get going, girl.” The coyote straightened up, and looked at the wolf appraisingly. “You were having some very interesting dream, weren’t you?”

Sarah’s ears swiveled, and she licked her lips. “Um… I don’t remember much of it,” she said hesitantly.

“You looked like a dog dreaming of chasing bunny rabbits.”

“Mice,” Sarah murmured, stretching. She gave Chipotle a satisfied smile. “You’re right, I do need to get going.”

“Mmm.” Chipotle sat back down and picked up the magazine she’d been reading.

“I’ll probably see you at the Giants’ Club later.” Sarah stood up and walked to the door.

“I’ll be dere. Good luck.”

“No problem. It might go like a dream.” Sarah waved, and stepped outside.

Chipotle nodded, leaning back.

After the door had shut, she blinked a few times, then dropped the magazine and bolted after the wolfgirl.