Crime Doesn't Pay (Nov SotM)

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“Oh the places you’ll go…” I muttered under my breath while taking a drag off my cigarette. When I’d gotten in this business I’d had a very detailed vision of my life as an international burglar. Money, women, fame: perhaps not in the traditional sense of Kim Kardashian, but certainly some notoriety found in Billy the Kid or Butch Cassidy. And yes I liked cowboys as a kid, thanks for asking. 

For the most part I’d done alright for myself, even though I don’t like to crow about my accomplishments. For one it’s awfully garish to bloviate about my various heists around the world. For two it’s bad practice for a profession that relies on the utmost discretion and chariness, loose lips really do sink ships. But for those in the know my rèsumè is certainly impressive, and I can assure you that I’ve pulled off some of the most high profile jobs in in the world. From the Burj Khalifa, the shops of 5th Avenue, the Louvre, even all the way Buckingham Palace. I’ve stolen trade secrets, high end jewelry, priceless paintings, and even the Queen’s panties. And yet this was the strangest job I’d ever been hired to do! 

I’d been sent to the middle of some suburban backwater to steal some ‘trade secrets’, from a sex shop of all places! While I’d learned long ago that it rarely pays to ask questions in my line of work, the less you know the better and frankly you probably don’t event want to know, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell I could be stealing from a sex shop? What highly classified intel could exist on a dildo to justify paying my prices, which many considered extortionate. 

I hate this small ball crap, I really do, but business had been quite slow as of late. Burglary is, sad to say, a dying craft. Oh sure the simple yet effective ‘smash and grab’ is still popular. But why go to all the trouble of breaking into a bank vault or even knocking over a 7/11 when, with a little brains, a card skimmer is so easily installed on a ATM or gas pump? Why bother breaking in to corporate headquarters for trade secrets when some 19 year old, pimple faced, Russian teenager can hack the US fucking State Department? A small phishing scam and next thing you know you’ve got Equifax by the bollocks, not to mention sitting on half of the country’s social security numbers! Luckily some people still recognize the need for an operative like me. They understand not everything is so easily gained with a few keystrokes and couple mouse clicks. Sometimes, if you want the job done right, you’ve got to send a man out into the felid to get his hands dirty and do things the good old fashioned way. 

So here I was, standing out in the rain with my umbrella watching the smoke slowly rise off of the cherry between my fingers. I took a drag off my cig, mulling over the job and casting an innocent glance up and down the road. Fuck it. I thought to myself with an impatient snort. I want to go home, let’s get this done. Perhaps it was slightly reckless, as there was much recon left to do if I wanted to do the job right, but I didn’t belong to the world of theft if I couldn’t knock over a simple sex shop in my sleep!

I flicked my ‘cancer stick’ into a nearby puddle, listening to the small hiss as it extinguished before grinding the butt into the asphalt with my heel, satisfied to be rid of the thing. Truth be told I hate smoking, it feels like the smoke and ash penetrate my very soul for days after I smoke one, but it really does provide a good cover story. A guy standing by himself in the rain on a dark street corner looks suspicious. But a guy taking a break from the rat race of life? That looks as normal as you could please. You’d be surprised how much I’d gotten away with over the years just looking like an innocent man with a simple vice.

I stepped down off the curb and into the street, crossing the road with nary glance in either direction, beelining towards Lewd Brews. My employer, rather unusually, was full of information about the target. The file he wanted me to steal was located on the fourth floor of the building inside the owner’s office. No cameras, so he said, but he did warn me a mysterious and unorthodox security system, which he was either unwilling or unable to elaborate on. 

The first part of my plan was easy; Lewd Brews was a store after all, not a bank vault. The three floors that stood in my way where all open an accessible to the public. From there I’d simply have to wing it, after all if the place didn’t brother cameras how good could their security system be? So with a confident strut and looking like I belonged I walked through the large glass doors of the building into the ground floor, full of patrons, eating, dancing, and talking. I was taken aback, the ground floor was a far cry from he dodgy, strip club setting I’d been imagining when I’d read about the ground floor lounge. Everything was modern and clean, the women fully clothed. There was even a view of the Portland city skyline in the cafe I would have thought impossible for a groundfloor, it was like we where twenty stories up! I wondered what architecture trick had been used to pul that off… there where even several people quietly reading or working on their laptops in the book section, despite the loud, tumultuous party around them. 

But I wasn’t here for a coffee or a beer, though a hot meal would have been nice. I was here for a singular purpose which I’d go any lengths to fulfill. The most direct and clear path through the bar and cafe towards the fourth floor was through the book section, so I started walking towards the studious customers. I had wondered how they could possibly focus in such a loud space, but as soon as I stepped on the rich green carpeting between the tall, handsome book shelves something changed at once. The raucous din was still there, but quieted to a dull roar you could only hear if you paid attention to it. Sort of like listening ocean crashing against the shore from a distance. 

I froze. I could startled by such a sudden, unexplainable change in volume. A shiver ran down my spine and I took an experimental step back onto the hardwood and the noise washed over me at full strength again, only to fall quiet as I stepped back through the invisible barrier. 

“Magic, isn’t it?” I nearly jumped out of my skin as a young looking woman, wearing a t-shirt for the local university, must have confused my terrified look for awe. The sudden and unexplained change in tone was off putting to me, and I recalled my employer’s warning about the ‘unorthodox’ security with an unpleasant feeling in my stomach. Well… at either rate I was committed to the job and had yet to meet the security system that could best me yet. So I curtly nodded to the girl and with a calming breath I steeled myself for the task ahead.

The second floor of Lewd Brews didn’t offer any explanation as to why I’d been hired to rob it. Not that I looked too closely, as my target was still two floors up. The corporate website had bragged about carrying a ‘wide selection of clothing options, tailored for furs of all shapes and sizes’, but it looked just like any other middle of the road retailer you’d find in American mall: that was to say empty of customers. It was the third floor was where things started to get interesting, and where the shop had earned it’s namesake. Here I took a moment, examining the merchandise and doing my best to blend in with the other customers as I cased the third floor. 

My pursuing through Lewd Brews’ selection of sex toys was just a cover and I didn’t have much interest in kink or sex toys in general (sex is pretty much perfect in my book, and quite difficult to improve upon) I couldn’t help but be impressed by the variety. A particularly large, rainbow colored dildo caught my attention in particular: I couldn’t get over how *big* it was! Certainly this slab of latex was more of a… gag than a useable thing? Every sex toy I could imagine (and several more I wouldn’t have dreamt up in a million years!) was for sale on those tall shelves. I was so taken with the wares for sale it took me much longer than I’d care to admit and much longer than what could be considered “professional”. I finally made my way two two large back, swinging doors. They where each labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY Y but otherwise there was nothing stopping anyone from simply walking straight through. And so I did. 

The lights where off, but I could make out the freight elevator to my right and a smaller black door immediately in front of me. I pulled out my tiny, pocket flashlight for a better look. It was also labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY, but this door was secured by a cheap deadbolt that slowed me down, if only for a moment, while I fished out my lock picking set. My father, who had taught me much of what I knew (although often indirectly by witness his mistakes) had told me long ago that a lock only keeps out an honest man. The door swung open to reveal the final set of stairs standing between me and my target. I donned my mask before quickly yet stealthily making my way up the stairs. Only for my eyes to bug out of my head. 

When I had been told I was stealing from the office of a sex-shop owner I was expecting a tiny office with wood paneling, dated computer, and more than likely an overflowing ash tray. Of course I should have know to increase my expectations from my first sight of Lewd Brews: a tall modern looking building that simply towered above the surrounding buildings, but I was still taken aback by the modern office that was laid out before me. The “International Headquarters” of Lewd Brews wouldn’t have looked out of place in a high end wall street investment firm. I stalked past the many shiny cubicles and headed towards a the row of offices towards the back. 

My flashlight passed over the names of Lydia White, the Director of Operations, and Robert Ramirez, the VP of Marketing, until I found the office I was looking for.

“Bingo.” I muttered under my breath, feeling high off the thrill of the job: even if it was the easiest of my career. The cheap, flimsy lock protecting the office was easily jimmied by shaking the handle and I slipped inside to have Lewd Brews, yet again, exceeded my expectations. 

“Blimey.”

At the briefest of glances I was in a normal, every day office. Large floor to ceiling windows with an impeccable view of the Columbia River, cheap carpet, a few pictures of family and friends and other personal effects to soften the harshly boring office feeling. Although everything seemed to be scaled about 25% larger than usual and the office chair looked reinforced as if the builder was expecting and elephant to sit on it. But the majority of the massive space was dedicated to an extremely high tech looking lab that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a massive multi-billon dollar pharmaceutical company. I almost expected to see Gale Boetticher from Breaking Bad milling about. 

This all a cover for a meth operation. I joked to myself with a soft chuckle. That would certainly explain why I was sent here. But I was here to steal stuff, I just needed to grab what I needed and get out. 

My employer was looking for a research file name XJ-878. What exactly this file contained and why my mysterious boss wanted it was beyond my pay grade: I just hoped it was easily found. I started with the desk, feeling rather tiny as I sat in the massive office chair. I started with the drawers but, much to my surprise given the lax security so far, they where both locked by a surprisingly sophisticated lock. Of course I’d be able to pick it, but I had a feeling I didn’t need to. The most easily exploited flaw of any security system is, without a doubt, the end user. With a little searching… yep! Right there in the unsecured tray just above my lap. With a victorious smile, sure I’d be in and out in 15 or less, I slid the key into the lock which snapped back with a satisfying clunk. But little did I know Lewd Brews had one final surprise for me. 

BANG!

An explosion that rattled my teeth and blinded my eyes with a tremendous blast went off as I open the file cabinet, like the worlds most powerful flash bang had gone off right in front of my face. Pink dust was flung into the air landing on everything, including me! “Fuck!” I cried with a cough as the dust settled across the room before slowly fading from sight. “Shit. Fuck… son of a bitch!” I cursed. I’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book, the light security had all been decoys, lulled me into a false sense of security, striking at just the right moment. Now I was disoriented, blinded and defeated by the explosion. My flashlight, which I’d been holding in my mouth to leave my hands free dropped and rolled under the desk as I sat, stunned and trying to get my bearings back. 

No way that cacophonous boom I just set off went unnoticed. I need to get out of here… I can’t believe I managed balls-up the easiest mission of my career. 

I wanted to hang my head in shame, but that would serve me no purpose. There was time to kick myself later. A frantic yet organized panic fell over me, I grabbed a few files from the desk cabinet, wondering, hoping I could managed to get something out of my botched mission. For the money I charged there was no room for failure or do overs. I slammed the drawer shut and leapt to my feet. But, despite my alarm, I found my movements slow and clumsy. As if I was trying to wade through water while shitfaced drunk. My center of gravity was all wrong and I felt really… warm. As if I was wearing a heavy coat all of a sudden. I groped at my face in the darkness, feeling a set of thick lips on my elongated… muzzle!? “The fuck is going on here!” I cried out in shock, knocking the office chair over in a panic. 

What I was able to feel, but couldn’t quite process in my magical induced stupor, was a mystical transformation all across my body. Coarse, grey fur with black marking growing thick and fast all over my body. My natural blonde hair growing at an astounding rate, falling into long lovely curls now framing my face. My eyes, naturally brown, turned into a brilliant shade of blue while my lips, naturally thin and pale, grew unnaturally thick and full whilst colored a shocking glossy red as if I’d lovingly coated them in lipstick. My body, athletic yet lithe and agile, remained thin and of great shape: but it was of an entirely different shape. A full heavy set of breasts grew out from my chest, which would have looked really sexy in my tight fitting turtleneck… IF I WASN’T WEARING THEM! My hips, rather painfully I might add, stretched outward while my baggy jeans stretched the the point of breaking in order to contain the new junk in my truck. All the while my waist flared inward, further accentuating my new hourglass figure. 

But the most extreme change was almost certainly to my mind. It felt even more sluggish than my body, instead of leaping into action like I normally would have: doing everything in my power to put distance between myself and the scene of the crime I stood their slightly slack jawed and unsure what to do. 

“Heh…” I giggled, groping my new chest though my sweater with glee. “I’ve got boobies now! And why do I suddenly feel so horny? Dennis play with self.” My fingers fumbled with the button of my jeans slipping them off before collapsing onto the floor on my new inflated butt. Moaning and giggled while I furiously attacked my new pussy. Lord above! It feel this good for all girls? It was a wonder they got anything done but play with themselves all day long if that was the case! All I could do was moan and squirm on the floor groping my new chest with one hand and furiously masturbating with the other. 

I didn’t hear or see the office door opening as two massive figures appeared in the doorway behind me. Instead loudly and without shame I came against my own fingers, my eyes welded shut as I savored the feeling of womanhood for the first time. Suddenly my new black nose twitched with excitement. A male was in the room I flipped around, laying on my stomach, and looked up to see the two tallest people I’ve ever seen! A redheaded husky with huge tits. Tits even bigger than mine, way bigger than mine! But I wasn’t much interested in her. Instead my eyes where on the beefcake next to her. A tall, strapping man who could probably break me in half!

“Cock?” I asked in my most girly, sultry voice. 

I could feel it, life was gonna be fun as a girl! 

. . .

Brittany and Bill stood over the freshly minted bimbo who couldn’t help but furiously finger her pussy. 

“I’d seen him sneaking the around the last couple of days.” Bill said dryly. “But he really hadn’t done anything actionable. I mean… he was using an umbrella, but that makes him guilty of nothing more than being a tourist.”

“No matter.” Brittany said with a yawn, eager to get back to bed. “Looks like our anti theft devices worked exactly as intended. Good job Bill. What was it he was after?”

“Hard to say really.” Bill said, pouring over the documents that the thief had left abandoned on Brittany’s desk. “He panicked and just grabbed stuff at random is what it looks like to me. But certainly some kind of paper work. 

“I see… well I suppose that answers who was responsible.” Brittany said thoughtfully. “Most crooks just woulda went for the merchandise. Any id?”

“New York drivers license… looks like he goes by the name of Dennis Bruck Cooper.” Bill said, retrieving the burglar’s wallet from the jeans he’d flung across the room.”

“Ring a bell?”

“No, but I got some buddies I can discreetly ask. You want me to call the cops this time? Or handle it the usual way?”

“We’ll handle it the usual way, I think. Maybe this time he’ll get the message this time. And if not we can always use another bimbo cow downstairs. But make sure you head home as soon as you’re done. Lydia will have my ass if I keep you at work all night again.”

“Sure thing boss.”

“Cock?” Both the husky and bull looked down at the floor. The mask bimbo coon had she’d worn to protect her identity now a black fur pattern stretch across her face. Her eyes where glued to Bill hungrily.

“Or maybe Dan here is more your speed, they seem to be taking a shine to you.” 

“No thanks. I’m good.” 

Deep in the recesses of his bimbofied mind Dan was aware the two furs towering over him where talking about him. He was horrified at what he was overhearing, but his internal protests as Bill put a pink collar around his neck failed to register with the bimbo persona that had taken control of his new curvaceous body. All he could do was wonder in morbid curiosity what a “bimbo cow” was and watch in horror as his body obediently followed Bill out of the office and to the freight elevator that would carry them all the way down to the basement. In time Dan would learn to accept, even love his lot in life, but that’s a story for a different time.

END

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