A Relationship Between Killers (furry, m/f, pregnancy)

I was dealt bad cards at birth. Mom was human, dad wasn't. We lived in a furry neighborhood, and it hurt being the only human. Humans looked down on me because of my upbringing. In short, my younger years were a nightmarish hell that I endured daily.

When the military offered my enlistment at 16, I signed without a hesitation. My last farewells to my parents behind me, I prepared for my new life. In basic, I learned my upbringing was rather helpful. My father's wolfen genetics, along with the torment of peers gave me a physical edge. I may not have been the strongest, or even the smartest, but I could run. In the end however, I ended up just being "average". I was rather thin, but toned, short brown hair, and a face that clearly spoke my age (glad I never got zits). I never cared, it just meant I could be free; a Army boy ready for combat. Which I soon regretted.

War was not what I thought. The stress, constant drills, and firefights were too much. First I hated it, but soon I adjusted. Once I had finally had a groove to things, got used to the killing, the war ended. I was glad, yet I felt empty. Once back home, things weren't easier either. I thrived for battle, and nobody wanted that from a desk jockey. Plan B: Private Military. Found a small company placed locally, NKI, or the Never Killed Inc. They were top notch, I only made it because of my speed. "Guy like you doesn't come around often. Keep sharp, you'll be deployed quite a bit." They told me. My first few operations were successful, two assassinations, an escort, and then the extermination run. I found my niche in the world again, but soon I had a relapse. My job didn't satisfy that void I felt.

Three years have passed since I started being a contractor. 22 years old, finally gaining the muscle my 6'2" frame needed to be "normal" for guys my age. I had plenty of money, and contracts always rolled in. My latest assignment, a hunt of sorts, put me with a more experienced partner. Her name was Sarah, but I knew her as Whisper. The girl could shoot, and was nearly silent at any given time. Of course that's not why I'm talking about her. The wolf had an amazing body, curves in all the right places, breasts that were large, but not ridiculous in size, and her eyes...any man was lucky to have seen or slept with her. But that's not how I remembered her. She was older than me by three years, and left to fight, much like I had. We were in the same neighborhood, and she kinda acted like an older sister to me. But that was the past, and she might've forgotten anyway.

Our target had been a defector who created a small militia. Of course, we were to leave no survivors. My kit was simple: HK416 with M203, a Brugger TMP with AN/PEQ, and a M9 knife. Whisper had an L96A1, modified for the operation. Rifles in hand, we dropped into the thick jungle. Whisper was in ghillie, myself in standard BDUs as we silently trekked through the intertwined brush. It was a slow crawl, evading enemy patrols, but we finally found our target.

The hostile was in a diplomat's suit, apparently yelling at some unlucky bastard. Personally, I'd have fired, gave the guy a mercy killing. Instead, he pulls the trigger himself, kneecapping him. A warning on my mic alerts me to Whisper disappearing. "In position. You can insert now." She said, nearly as silent as her name. I simply nodded, raising my rifle as I descended the slope.

There were two militia, each holding a K2. Before I pulled the trigger on my rifle, both dropped simultaneously. I sneak out of the brush, quickly closing the gap between me and the structure. The first room was empty, except for a few munitions crates. I heard voices and tucked behind a crate. Two men entered and looked around carelessly. Safe for the time being, I pull out my TMP. I couldn't risk the rifle in close quarters. Standing up I followed the guards, waiting for them to enter a room, then emptied the 30 round, 9mm magazine into them both. "I am engaged. Green light" I whispered into my mic, swapping mags as I walked down the hallway.

"There he is!" They shouted, firing AK47s and K2s. I tucked behind a door, waiting for the brief moment of a reload. As the last shot fired, I looked from my cover, firing into their knees before throwing a frag grenade. A flaming skull passed by my head, a definite confirmation that the area was clear.

"First floor secure. Proceed to the secondary objectives." I walked up the flight of stairs at the end of the hall. Boot on wood, I ascended with caution as I started to hear more voices. Quickly peeking around the corner, the

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