"We need a distraction," you declare. Grinning mischievously, you turn to the wolves; "And I know just the one."
You return to the pair, gesturing for them to move away from the cell block door. With a flick of your hand, the door slams shut as figures identical to Becky and the cop materialize before it. "Aww, come on Jess!" the Becky-clone whines as she paws at the latch, "You know no one is going to read this unless it's got the big red S sitting next to the title! Unless you want to go at it by yourself of course..." A few moments later, the spitting image of your human self opens the door, grinning lustily. She proceeds to strip down as the wolf-clones move in on her. You watch in a mix of unease and, admittedly, morbid fascination as the illusion executes a lesbian werewolf threesome.
Seeing the far-too-eager looks on your colleagues' faces, you lunge forward and shut the door. "Sorry, girls," you sing with an innocent smile, "All play and no plot makes Jess hella pissed."
You stride back into the center of the room to rally their attention. "That should buy us some time to plot our next move. So," you clap your hands, "What do we know so far?"
"This was supposed to be a werewolf survival story," Becky numbers off, "We came to the station where she—" she points to the officer "—was supposed to be fighting them, but the writer mucked up the choice and turned it into a porn arc, you called it out and we became self-aware, then you turned yourself into a kitsune, literally slapped sense into us, and just created an illusion catering to the writer's fetish, you filthy hypocrite," she sticks out her tongue playfully.
"Speaking of," you turn to the officer, "We never actually got your name, and it'll be better than shouting 'Hey, you!' for the rest of the story."
"Oh, is she a party member now?" Becky asks with a gleam in her eyes.
"Well we don't know if everyone here is self-aware now or just us, plus if she's an alpha wolf she'll have lots of plot-device cred."
"I was supposed to be fighting them, now I am them..." the officer mutters, "Screw it, at least you have some idea what you're doing. Name's Felicia Baines, by the way." She extends her hand and you exchange a shake.
"Man, 'Officer Baines, the Wolf's Bane' would've made such a kick-ass title in the original plot," Becky admits.
"C'est la vie," she shrugs.
"So where do we go from here, Jess?"
Good question. "Well, we know there are werewolves outside, but now we don't know if they're out to kill us or knock us up—"
"But we're werewolves, and you're a bona fide shapeshifter," Becky interjects, "So we should be able to waltz right past 'em!"
"Too convenient," you shake your head, "The writer would sniff us out in a heartbeat. Which means..." You snap your fingers and you instantly revert to human form, socks and shoes repaired. Rolling your eyes at your friend's dejected look, you explain: "C'mon, I'd stick out like a sore thumb. Besides, one of us will have to play bait."
Becky cups her lower breasts sensually. "Thanks, Jess," she grins.
"'Nevertheless,'" you orate in your Narrator Voice, "'Jess thought it prudent to keep Becky's clothes on-hand for when she returned to human form.'" With a rustle, a small bag appears, clipped to your belt. You delve a hand inside and it swallows half your arm. "Infinite pocket space," you mutter, "Convenient." Becky gathers up her discarded clothes and you toss them in.
Meanwhile, Felicia visited the station locker room and returns with what looks like the largest jacket she could find, which still can't close around her enormous bust. She's also clipped a utility belt around her waist with a holstered gun and nightstick. You raise your eyebrows at her conspicuous lack of pants. "Full disclosure: being an alpha wolf feels sexy as hell, and if we are now trapped in a porn fic, there's no sense ruining the uniform. Still," she rummages through the remains of her old clothes for her ID card, "I am a police officer, so I can at least try to dress the part."
There may be hope for us yet, you think. "Alright," you sigh, "Everything we thought we knew is now out the window, we have no clue where this plot's going, and we're officially at war with the writer. If we're lucky, and we act discreetly, we might manage to nudge this story back into coherence; for now we're winging it and hoping for the best. We've got a head start, but once the writer realizes he's been tricked, he's gonna do everything he can to throw us off track. Everyone ready?"
Becky and Felicia exchange a glance, then nod to you.
"Let's get back to the story."