Amy had been with DAMNIT for almost ten years, and still dreaded going into the Director's office.
Amy knocked and entered, knowing Sonya Marcellus would be there. She was always there, always working.
Behind the desk, seated in a worn leather chair was a corpse. This was no surprise, as the Director had died years before Amy joined.
A freak accident with a time travelling Port-O-Potty and an Infinite Improbability Drive, had instantly aged Sonya Marcellus by a thousand years and trapped her spirit in her inanimate mummified corpse. However, given the unconventional nature of their organization and her relentless drive, the Director kept working.
It was eerie to see the mouse and keyboard seemingly moving and typing by themselves as the ghost of Marcellus manipulated them.
'Director Marcellus. We have a critical incident. Something is rapidly rewriting reality in a small town to populate it with animate fox dolls. The distortion appears to be growing exponentially. Davis and I are going to investigate. I will send updates from the field.'
A small bell rose from the desk and rang. The spirit of the Director used it to mean agreement and good luck.
'Thank you, we'll be in touch.'
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A few hours later, Amy and Davis walked the streets of Pleasant Hills.
The town already had enough Dolls that a store had come into existence to cater to their needs. Given that they didn't eat, drink, or wear clothes; the shop seemed focused on bags, purses, and certain kinds of jewelry - all made of metal, plastic, or rubber.
Both of the agents wore their fieldwork backpacks, which contained a multitude of tools and weapons, plus the finest passive protection possible through technology and sorcery. Casual boots and rugged clothing left the two nicely looking the part of a pair of hikers.
'Getting some serious readings from the VixDoll boutique.' Said Amy, checking the data her backpack scanner was feeding to the phone.
Davis nodded. 'Let's check it out.'
The shop was made of smooth plastic, a very foxy burnt orange color. It had no visible seams or edges, everything made of a single piece of plastic. The display windows were simply sections of the plastic which had been made transparent. The rounded plastic doors stood invitingly open.
As Davis stepped inside, a powerful electric shock surged down from his backpack and into his foot.
Jumping back, he checked his phone. It showed all of the technological shields in his pack had activated in response to an aggressive attempt to alter him.
Without a word, and avoiding making a bigger scene, the two retreated to the outdoor cafe across the street.
'Shop's definitely a trap, not sure what it was trying to do, but I doubt it's any good.'
Amy nodded. For lack of better options, they ordered lunch and settled in to watch the VixDoll shop and see if their scanners could provide any more information.
About 15 minutes later, they watched as a middle aged woman out for a jog stopped in front of the Doll boutique to tie her shoes. She put one foot up against the wall to tie it. As she did so, the shoe warped, laces melting away and gaining shine. She switched feet, the second shoe melting as quickly as the first.
As the woman stood, her feet and ankles shifted, becoming digitigrade white plastic paws. As she jogged off, her thighs swelled inside her maroon yoga pants. The stretchy fabric gained a glossy luster as her clothing and skin was replaced by shapely molded plastic in the color of her former yoga pants.
The woman made it only two doors down before stopping, her hollow plastic lower body struggling to balance her flesh and bone upper half. She leaned her shoulder against the wall, a huge white tipped maroon tail swinging from her widened hips and ample ass.
Her waist narrowed as her breasts plasticized and swelled outwards. Her eyes had been shut, but now reopened as they became colored plastic, never to close or blink again. Her hair faded away as her ears pulled up and muzzle pushed out.
The VixDoll straightened up and turned her - no, it's - body. Amy and Davis could see the featureless white plastic of the Doll's nullified groin. The plastic vixen resumed it's jog as if nothing had happened.
Amy and Davis could hear a very feint clicking sound from their equipment as it worked to protect their memories as the woman whom the jogger had been was written out of history.