Shoplifters Will Be Prostituted

A quick story written as a warm-up. Content warning for rough language and the sort of stuff you'd expect from the title. Explicit.

While the coyote up at the cash register had her nose down in her phone, Kris slipped another two bracelets off the rack and dumped them into her bag. Her bag was one of those big clunky ones—ten percent of why she wore it was because it was trendy, and the other ninety because you could stuff a lot of expensive stuff in there.

Well, as expensive as you could find in Too U, at least.

The cougar slid her paw around a glittery choker necklace, then slipped it off the hook it hung from. The punk-pop music rattling off the speakers muffled the little clink as she pooled the necklace in her palm. It slipped smoothly down into her bag.

All together, that was getting close to five hundred dollars, between the cosmetics and jewelry and a couple pairs of leggings stuffed in the bottom. Kris smiled quietly and allowed herself a purr of satisfaction.

From over by the makeup, Steph looked anxiously at the cashier, then hurried over to Kris. The vixen's ears were folded back against her head—apparently the music was 'too loud'.

"So, what'd you get?" Kris asked, quiet enough that only Steph could hear.

Steph opened her hands to reveal eyeliner, mascara, and a tube of lipstick.

"That's like, maybe thirty bucks." Kris rolled her eyes. She snatched two pairs of earrings off of a display and pushed them into Steph's pockets.

Steph's eyes were on the cashier again. "What if she's—"

"Stop looking," Kris said. "You ready to go?"

Steph slipped the makeup into her pants pockets and shrugged. "Yeah, I just want to get out of here."

Kris nodded and straightened her bag. "Just be cool."

Together, the cougar and her fox friend turned toward the door. The bell jingled, and the warm summer-evening air hit them. They were standing on the sidewalk of the strip mall, essentially home free.

"So, you wanna walk home or what?" Kris asked. She glanced at Steph. The vixen had a hand on her stomach and a small grimace on her face.

"I don't feel great," she said.

Kris flashed her fangs in a grin. "It's just the nerves. Happens your first time. Come on." She turned to leave as Steph let out a yelp. Her head snapped back around. She traced Steph's gaze down to her sneakers.

Or to put it more accurately, what had been Steph's sneakers. Kris was just in time to see the soles reforming into high arches and stiletto heels. Forced up onto her tiptoes, Steph staggered and tried to tip herself back onto her new center of gravity. Glossy red heels glistened around her feet, completely unlike anything she'd ever wore.

"What the fuck," Kris said.

Steph grabbed Kris's shoulder and wobbled. "What's going on?" Her eyes were wide, her ears plastered back against her head.

Kris searched for something to say, but was interrupted by her boots jacking her heels up into the air. Her arms spun as she stumbled and caught herself, balanced on her heels and staring down at her combat boots. The black leather flowed like liquid rubber. It shrunk around her feet and tapered to a point at the tip, while rising up to her knees, skin-tight and laced along the sides. They were snug, and as comfortable as leather boots with a six-inch heel could be.

"What the fuck," she repeated. She looked up at Steph, as if she might have some answer.

The vixen was bent at the waist, knees pressed together, hands balled into fists on top of her thighs. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, and she was breathing heavy like she was fighting to keep from panting. Her tail twitched in the air above her back. The red fur along her thighs spilled out of her jeans as the denim retreated up her legs.

And as Steph's jeans became shorts, her legs grew thicker. Kris almost didn't notice at first, but it grew more and more obvious with each inch added to her hips and ass.

"Jesus christ. We need to get out of here," Kris said.

"How? I can't even walk in these!" Steph gingerly tried to straighten her legs. One of her heels slipped out from under her; she stumbled back on top of it, and her ass jiggled gently behind her.

Kris felt more air against her legs than she should have. Her leggings were spreading open: tiny gaps appeared, then stretched wider, until they formed a lattice running up her legs. Fishnet stockings. The tight grip of the new fishnets also squeezed against Kris's thickening figure. She clapped her hands on either side of her hips and bared her teeth as she tried to push inward. It didn't work. Her miniskirt rode up along her thighs, and it was all she could do to shove it back down and try to hold it down between her thighs.

Down between her thighs, where she was starting to feel warm and tense.

"Steph, come on." Kris reached out a paw, trying to grab her friend's arm.

The vixen stood straight, clutching at the hem of her shirt and trying to pull it down to her waist, despite the fact that it only went as far as her belly button. Around her waist was now a tiny pair of denim cutoffs, giving ample space for her wide hips and thick ass to stick out. There was even a bit of roundness to her belly, since no one could get that thick and keep a tiny waist.

"Fuck," Steph said, under her breath. Her thighs were squeezed together, her eyes unfocused. Kris's eyes settled on her chest while she reached for Steph's shoulder. It was growing. Up and out, like watching bread rising in time-lapse or something. Not just bigger, but rounder. Like, implants rounder.

The vixen's nipples had stiffened into two small bumps against her shirt. With a whine from the back of her throat, something wobbled underneath the fabric—a brand new pair of rings through her nipples, outlined against her top.

Kris parted her lips to let out a few heated breaths. Fuck was right. She felt like she was going into heat. Her dwindling skull tank top was almost a relief, since it meant more room for her tan fur to breathe. Instead of the plaid miniskirt, she now had a tight, black, glossy skirt wrapped around her hips and coming dangerously close to showing off her crotch.

A low purr rolled off of her throat, against her better judgment. Her fishnet-clad legs rubbed together, feeling warmer and more humid by the minute. A surge filled her chest, new mass and new weight. She could hardly breathe, it was so tender. Her swollen nipples felt every shift of her tank top as they dragged against the fabric. Tank top to tube top, fabric to leather. It was zipped up tight in the front, cupping and lifting her chest. Her still-growing chest.

Kris eyed Steph, partially out of concern, and partially out of jealousy. It was hard to sort out how much of each. The vixen had given up on holding back and was panting openly. Her breaths fogged faintly in front of her snout. Her hair poured down around her claws clutching her scalp, longer and thicker and smelling faintly of hairspray. Red dye crept outward from the roots, covering up her natural brown with a bright shade that didn't quite match her fur.

Steph's falling hair led Kris's eye to her shirt. It was a tiny white tee, stretched across her heavy chest and covering nothing below her bust. Printed in red across the front like it was written in lipstick was "\$5".

"Fuck fuck fuuuuck," Steph whined.

Whatever was happening to her was in the background now, though. Kris was heavy in the haze that had come down over her, and she could feel new thickness on her eyes and lips: makeup getting layered on, heavy enough that she could tell it was there. Her own hair grew longer, though less of a wild mane like her friend's: hers fell into tight-cut bangs across her eyes, and draped down into longer, styled curls running down her shoulders and back. The weight of two new earrings dangled from her ears. She clutched at the front of her leather top to give her overgrown breasts some space to breathe.

While Kris gasped for air, Steph's eyelids fluttered. Each blink was heavier, with more mascara to draw out her eyes, and thicker eyeliner to force more of that sultry look. Dark eye shadow dusted along her eyes. Garish red had rolled its way across her lower lip. Two pairs of plastic hoops dangled from her ears, clinking against each other when she moved her head.

"Holy shit," the vixen panted. With her hands, she squeezed her breasts together, trying to stretch her shirt to give them a little more space. She only succeeded in making her nipples stand out thicker against the thin top. Were her nipple rings bigger? Kris couldn't tell. She was too distracted even to be bothered by her shy friend cursing like it was no big deal.

"I need to fuck," Kris said under her breath. She rubbed the side of her head, feeling how flushed she was under her fur, combing out some of her long hair.

Steph dropped her hand to her hips and carefully turned to face Kris. "Woah, Kris. You look like a whore."

A little ripple of anger passed through Kris. "Well you look like a cheap slut," she snapped.

They were quiet for a moment after that. Both of them felt less bad about what they'd been called than they should have. Kris tugged at the front of her top again, squeezing it down a little further so it wasn't so tight against her implants.

Interrupting the awkward silence, the door of Too U swung open, and the coyote cashier poked her head out. "Good, you two are finished," she said, then stepped into the doorway, arms folded across her chest.

Kris wrinkled her snout. "Wait, what? Did you do this to us?"

"Store policy," the cashier said, and pointed to a sign in the window: 'SHOPLIFTERS WILL BE PROSTITUTED'.

"This is your fault," Steph huffed, leaning against the wall and panting softly.

"My fault? You're the one who wanted to try lifting, you cocksucker!" Kris said.

Steph's eyes glazed over for a moment and she licked her lips.

"Right," the coyote said, in the tone of someone who hasn't been listening. "Just pay off the value of what you stole, and we'll be even. That's fifty-five dollars for you." She pointed at Steph, then at Kris. "And five hundred and thirteen for you."

Kris stomped a leather boot, then had to place a hand on top of her chest to keep it from wobbling. A few of her bracelets clinked together. "That's not fair, she'll be done way before me."

The cashier shrugged. "She's got less to pay, but she is a cheaper whore."

"Hey!" Steph barked. The coyote raised her eyebrows and Steph shuddered in her heels. Two small damp patches spread across her shirt, right on top of her nipples. She let out a ragged gasp. "Fuck, you're right," she said under her breath.

"Who's the whore now?" Kris said with a smirk.

The coyote turned her eyes on Kris. "Well, you are, too."

The heat hit Kris all of a sudden, like she'd forgotten about it and then suddenly it was back, full force. Her tail stiffened and a yowl slipped from her throat. She dug one hand under her skirt but couldn't keep a few drops from dripping down onto the sidewalk beneath her. "Fuuuck," she whined.

"See you whores later. Come back when you've turned enough tricks, all right?," the cashier said, then slipped back into Too U and let the door swing shut.

"So, like..." Steph said, trying to brush away some of the dampness on her shirt, "how much is a blowjob?"

Kris cocked her head to the side, then grinned. "I think you got it on your shirt, cocksucker."

Steph glanced down at her top, tipped her head to the side so she could read the '\$5', and then made a small 'ohhh' face. "And how many do I have to do to make fifty-five bucks?"

There was a small pause. Kris raised an eyebrow, then once she was sure Steph was being sincere, said, "Like, twenty at least. And we're sharing our money, right?"

Steph smiled and curled her back. The front of her shirt stretched even thinner. "Yeah! Us whores gotta stick together."

"You know, threesomes would be a good idea too..."