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So I did work on that Sly Cooper story I promised I would, and it fell into hiatus after I got it two-thirds done. Now that I'm finishing up Part 3, I figured I'd submit 1 and 2. Here's part 1, featuring  caden-gallic taking the plunge into the Cooper Vault!

Sly Cooper © Sony

This story will destroy your childhood, as per my normal modus operandi. Turn back now or take the lemons. Your choice. Let’s get started!

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Paris was always lovely at night. Peaceful, yet brightly lit, able to feel so relaxed, and yet so full of life. To “Constable” Cooper, he had been able to reap the fruits of his Parisian life in full ever since he had decided to (partially) retire from his life of crime all that time ago. He had a beautiful, charming girlfriend, a respectable job, a wonderful home… really, he was living the American (or French) Dream detailed in so many sappy Hollywood films.

Sly had a hankering for his old way of life of course. Ever since those shenanigans involving traveling through time, he’d fortunately been able to reconcile his thieving lifestyle with Carmelita’s hardline police attitude, the latter having realized that with all the criminals he’d helped capture, Sly was probably the greatest asset Interpol had ever had (and, loathe as she was to admit it, probably even more of an asset than herself). Needless to say, Carmelita had been able to learn to tolerate his technically-illegal activities as a result of this. A constable by day and a thief by night, Sly spent the hours he would burn the midnight oil casing out the perfect heists… which he’d eventually send Bentley’s way so he could actually put together the proper dates and details. Sly’s official life made it somewhat more difficult to rob places as much as he used to, after all…. Heists were sort of a regular reunion for the Gang more than a way of life as before.

Sitting there as the clock tirelessly pursued its ticking as if it were powered by the Hate Chip itself, Sly turned his eyes to glance at a counter by the balcony. He noticed there was a small package on it; he was positive it hadn’t been there before. Being the law-abiding kleptomaniac he was, he felt it couldn’t hurt to at least take a glance at it, feeling he was already fully booked on places to make use of a five-finger discount this year.

Having made his way over to the package, he picked it up and glanced over it. His reddish-brown eyes shifting behind him to make sure his girlfriend had remained in the bedroom, Sly brought the package close to his ear to shake it… maybe he’d get something to go on from that. Between the light weight and minimal amount of noise from within, he determined it was probably a stack of paper, of little interest to him, “Must be something of Carmelita’s. Probably for work.” His enthusiasm waned a bit when he realized it was just some paperwork, more of the same dull, monotonous labor that both he and his vixen abhorred.

Turning it over, however, he noticed that the label on it clearly said “To: Sly Cooper.” One of his eyebrows raised itself, his curiosity having been piqued… and with glee he began to tear the package open as fast as he could without creating too much noise. It was technically his… and he presumed that was why Carmelita had left it unopened. Discarding the brown paper that was wrapped so snugly around the package, he found a small rectangular box within… not a cheap one either, the green box clearly made of a finer material than ordinary cardboard, with that gold trim shimmering brilliantly in the light from the ceiling above.

Naturally the constable was quick to position his fingers at the lip of the box, ready to pull the lid clean off. He was much like a child at Christmas to such surprises; having grown up an orphan, it probably explained as much about his enthusiasm for material possessions as his lineage. Lifting it up, he smiled, curious exactly what his late-night gift had for him!

His grin immediately became a frown yet again. Sure enough, it was a bunch of paper sheets within. Just some generic work assignment sent by Interpol’s higher… ups? Looking more closely, he noted that was not ordinary office paper in there. It looked more like parchment, having a green hue with a black trim around the edges. And the text, now that he looked at it… actually had a hint of a golden sheen to it. If this was from Interpol, it certainly wasn’t any ordinary assignment. Returning to his loveseat, he decided to take a closer look at what the parchment said, groaning to himself how the writer had a poor choice in ink colors, the shiny ink very difficult to read with the constant reflections.

Noting there were some sketches throughout the pages, Sly’s words escaped his mouth on their own accord for a moment, “Looks like pages from the Thievius Raccoonus. I’ve never seen this one before.” With that thought process in mind, his examination of the pages was much more careful, as he tediously ensured he didn’t cause any crinkles or imperfections in the aged paper.

This obviously wasn’t from Interpol. Quietly moving back over to the torn up wrapping paper he found the tag again, reading it over once more. On the label, the complement to its "To" tag was “From: Long Time No See.” At that, Sly realized it must have been something Bentley had dug up for him… Gazing at the clock, he still had some time to kill before he would join Miss Fox in bed, so he figured he may as well read whatever his turtle friend had sent him. They normally weren’t allowed to meet in person (given the technicalities of Sly’s legal appearance and the Cooper Gang’s not-so-legal), so the procyon would savor whatever communication he could have.

Skimming through the pages with his practiced reading skills, Sly found himself extremely confused. Who was “Comotodo Cooper” and why hadn’t he heard of him before? Reasoning this might have been a page of the Thievius Raccoonus he hadn’t recovered from the Fiendish Five, he kept on reading… maybe there were techniques that he’d never heard of before within the few pages he had before him. Whether Tennessee Cooper’s rail slide or Rioichi’s spire jump, there was no shortage of unique talents in his family tree.

For starters, Comotodo Cooper was born in Spain… well over a millennia ago. Sly never minded history lessons when they involved his family tree, so he naturally continued on. Comotodo made a great deal of his wealth playing both sides in the wars for control of Spain by varying powers, stealing from both and taking a cut for himself… Sly had to take a moment to read that again. There must have been an error, as Comotodo would have had to be centuries old by that time if the birthdate was correct. He assumed this page was poorly proofread (an obvious sign this was a prank of Bentley’s, the turtle loving to leave the most subtle clues), and kept on reading… and the more he did, the more… confused he became. As well as somewhat terrified. Comotodo’s real claim to fame wasn’t his theft of money from one government or another. He became well-known for making use of a technique to steal from his enemies – and not gold, either. He stole their very life force, augmenting his own with it and granting him immortality.

Sly was quick to put the pages aside. This was surely a hoax Bentley had cooked up (the turtle had his own bizarre sense of humor), or… something genuinely horrifying; if this was true, then the large gap between dates made sense, as Comotodo would have been able to live that long. If this was correct, this meant that somewhere in Sly’s ancestry, there was a person who basically constituted one of the earliest vampires on record (not too outlandish when one considers the inventor of sushi was also in his lineage). And yet, determined to make sense of whether he was offended, confused or horrified, he found himself reaching over to read the pages again… there was only one left, it looked like. Mostly drawings with some explanatory text which his multilingual mind was easily able to process. With his marvelous Italian skills, Spanish was a minor obstacle to overcome!

There was a picture of a raccoon figure (obviously Comotodo) grabbing a person… and then, rather than any vampiric bite or anything Sly might have imagined, the next image showed that person now inside Comotodo’s maw, lined with teeth comparable to a shark’s. The next series of images showed him with a rotund middle, and a final showed him with his stomach flat once more, his arms outstretched as if invigorated with strength. Looking more closely, one could see other details – in the earlier images there were some signs of aging on Comotodo’s body… he was fully youthful again in the last one. Reading the text, it became apparent Comotodo’s method was to consume a person, whole and alive, as if they were but a piece of meat; he would sap the life force from his prey as his body processed them, making him immune to death itself. At the very bottom, it was explained his penchant for stealing life itself is the reason his name was struck from Cooper records…

Placing the papers to his side, Sly started to laugh some. “He sure has a good sense of humor. That’s ridiculous.” Making sure the papers were neat and putting them in their box once more, Sly debated what to do… he figured he’d save these somewhere. They’d be good for a laugh if nothing else… as soon as he found out where Bentley had set up his latest workshop, he was going to have to think of something really good to top that. Bentley sure had stretched the limits of his imagination with this prank!

Sly’s inner laughter was interrupted by a massive rumble from within his trim middle. He hadn’t been hungry a second ago, but it seemed his appetite struck without mercy! Hauling himself up, he reasoned he’d grab himself a snack and head to bed… he had a lady to keep company, after all.

The refrigerator and all its contents did not stand a chance against the world’s finest thief. Whether it was Carmelita’s stew (made with an old family recipe), that spicy Italian takeout, or the assortment of fruits within, it all vanished down Cooper’s gaping gullet. Biscuits, bread, cereal… they were also casualties of his late-night binge. It was as if he was in a trance, and after it was all done, he noted the many scattered crumbs and dishes around the room… and the fact his abdomen now had the appearance of a balloon. He was just quick enough to muffle a belch that would have surely outdone even Bob Cooper’s and made Parisian fear their city had been the victim of an earthquake.

His gut gurgling audibly through his stretched pelt, the raccoon found himself a seat on the couch, sitting with his legs spread to allow his gargantuan middle more room to work on its contents. He went so far as to reach down and even loosen his belt, slouching as he sighed in relief. What a meal. So delicious to the tongue, so aromatic to his keen nose, so…

…inadequate for satisfying his needy stomach. To his shock, he still felt hungry! The thief was shocked, rubbing at his distended middle, which was in all likelihood way past safe stretching limits! Releasing a quiet burp, he debated how this was possible… maybe his brain wasn’t registering everything correctly…? Nonetheless, a distinct rumble sounded out from his middle… and then Sly noticed his hand didn’t seem to be resting on anything as large as before. Gazing down, he noted how his stomach had… actually shrunk! As if Salim Al-Kupar’s powers were working in reverse, his bloated midsection was shrinking much more rapidly than it should have been, all that food being churned and gurgled into a liquid paste that had his body all too eagerly absorbed… merely half an hour after he’d devoured pretty much everything in the kitchen, his stomach was empty again. Empty and demanding that he fill it, shouting at him with one growl or another!

“My metabolism is fast, but this is just crazy.” Sly noted with disdain that while there was still some food left, Carmelita probably wouldn’t take kindly to it all vanishing after she had gone shopping just two days ago. Rather than binging himself yet again, he figured he’d go find something hearty in the city… while it was late, he was sure the busier parts had plenty of options he could choose from. Quickly dealing with the dirty dishes he’d left (he most certainly did not want to be the outlet for Inspector Fox’s frustrations on that subject again), he gleefully made his way to the grandfather clock whose ticking had been so incessant earlier. Opening it and pressing his fingers to a few spots inside, it slid off to the side, revealing his trademark blue outfit and cane. It may have been a cliché hiding spot, but it was cool, and that was what mattered to him.

Suited up, the raccoon donned the outfit associated with Paris’ most famed outlaw, leaping off the balcony of their condominium as soon as he calmly closed the glass door behind him. Grabbing ahold of a pipe mid-fall with his cane, he suddenly found great joy that suppressed that gnawing hunger within him. He greatly enjoyed indulging his illegal urges, and running about Paris’ alleyways and rooftops in amazing acts of parkour was one way to get that adrenaline rush his desk job certainly lacked.

With Sly nearing the bright lights of the local business district, a sniff of the air made his muzzle salivate, and his stomach grumble even more in anticipation. “Wonder what’s cooking?” Seemed a restaurant was still open nearby… and he was sure the owners wouldn’t mind if he “sampled” their selection. He’d find some way or another to make it up for them; he didn’t want Carmelita to bite his head off over a massive bill on the Interpol card!

Ever skillful with navigating the streets of Paris that he knew so fondly, it didn’t take him long to arrive at the source of that enticing aroma. Looking around, all the shops were closed… and the raccoon’s head tilted some. But that was impossible! He could smell a feast that could probably humble even his girlfriend’s cooking! And that it was apparently behind closed doors made him grate his teeth in frustration, for his hunger was practically killing him.

…it was then his eyes darted over and he saw movement along one of the sidewalks. A young man having just left a restaurant… from his dimly-lit outline, Sly garnered that he was a fox, having just left a restaurant as one of its last customers. And the more the thief thought about it, the more things started to click – that smell was from him. Maybe he was carrying home some leftovers? His gut practically kicked itself, giving the procyon even more pain and reminding him he couldn’t dilly dally.

Quick to latch himself onto a pipe, he quietly yet quickly began to close the distance on the vulpine pedestrian. The less distance between them, the more Sly’s tongue would have to slurp along his muzzle to clear up all those stray bits of drool; he couldn’t wait to see what “gift” this person had to offer him! Finally getting ahead of his target, Sly stealthily leaned over the roof to watch the young man walk past below… only to see that he was carrying nothing. No bags, or boxes, or even bulged pockets. At most he probably had a wallet and keys, not food. But that couldn’t be right!

Sly’s eyes did take in other details, as well. This wasn’t a fox… he actually looked like nothing Sly had ever seen up close before! What was it… a human? They were a very scarce minority around the world, numbering only a few hundred thousand at most if Sly’s memory served correctly. But he also possessed the tail and ears of a vulpine, which was what led to Sly’s earlier confusion. The thick locks of brown hair framing the male’s face just made it even harder to distinguish that he was covered not in fur, but smooth skin.

…and suddenly, the exotic species’ appearance just made Sly’s mouth dribble some more. Wiping his lip with a glove, his quick thinking began to process everything… he wasn’t smelling any ordinary meal, cooked in an oven and served up hot on a plate. He was smelling a meal that was unprepared, yet already perfectly edible, so compact, and yet so very nutritious… he was smelling that fox nekomata below directly. And his odor was irresistible, as if he were Le Paradox’s photonegative. Cooper knew he couldn’t just… eat a person, though! …could he?

His stomach wasn’t happy with his indecision. It gurgled and grumbled with the ferocity of a lion, its empty void demanding to be filled. And that humanoid beneath him was starting to grow more distant by the second! Sly cupped his trim middle with one of his blue gloves, “No… I can’t… that’d be…” The pain was gnawing at him, both physically and mentally, the raccoon swearing he hadn’t had a headache just a moment ago. His morals and values tore at him to resist that urge, telling him that eating another person was against everything the Cooper Clan stood for; if that story was true, that was proof enough how this would never fly with his ancestors!

…then Sly’s ears perked as he heard the human mumble something. He had a distinctly British accent… not a French one by any means. He was clearly not from around here, this stranger… and suddenly, Sly’s cleverness (befitting of his name) immediately was telling him no one would notice this meal’s sudden disappearance… he could get away with it, just as he always did, the master criminal he was…

As if possessed by his animalistic instincts, the raccoon leaped from the roof as he always did, quietly sneaking up behind the hybrid before him. The only evidence that he was getting closer was the splattering of that copious drool on the pavement below, but unfortunately it seemed the half-fox before him hadn’t inherited that keen sense of hearing that a full vulpine would possess. The only evidence that young man by the name of Caden had to let him know he was being followed was a sudden yank around his neck as that signature cane pulled back on him and reeled him in, suddenly finding himself in a pair of slim, yet strong arms.

“Wh-what the…?” Caden uttered what any person in that situation would, suddenly taken aback at having been pulled into someone else’s grasp without warning! He was positive he was about to get mugged (an accurate fear any other day given the raccoon in question), though looking up his blue eyes stared into the possessive, fairly attractive eyes of a beastman. He certainly didn’t look like a thug, the mask obscuring his eyes aside. The half-fox blushed naturally, knowing he was in a scary situation and yet… finding himself oddly attracted to the one who’d nabbed him with such stealth and grace.

“Sly Cooper. It’s a pleasure.” The raccoon spoke, sure to get the usual pleasantries out of the way… in good news this human was a tad smaller than him so this wouldn’t be too difficult! As if he knew what to do, he interrupted the demi’s attempts at speech by brushing his long, thick (had it gotten bigger and longer since last time?) tongue across the human’s face, coating it with that slimy drool that had been building up in his muzzle for the past half hour… and he practically moaned as his taste buds began to vibrate with ecstasy at that taste… that taste matched what he had been smelling, most certainly! And suddenly, that rational part of him telling him not to eat the boy was being overpowered by that primal need to fill his belly…

“What are y-!” Caden’s words were silenced as the raccoon seemed to vanish, his world becoming one of a red-tinted abyss with seemingly no end. The cold Paris night gave way to a hot, humid realm as his chin came to rest on a smooth, slippery tongue, his entire head encased in the quivering flesh of the raccoon’s jaws, making quite the prominent bulge in the procyon’s cheeks!

Sly’s instincts and indulgence clouded his judgment; had he been in his right mind he would have certainly scaled to the rooftops rather than leaving himself in plain sight. But the demi’s rich flavor saturating his taste buds was just too distracting, his tongue dragging along those soft, fuzzy ears of Caden’s, as if to test that they were real… and they most certainly were, an extra burst of flavor on the demi’s vulpine parts, as if to illustrate they were the most scrumptious of him.

As muffled pleas came from within his maw, Sly’s hands grabbed around the human’s wrists, his cane having fallen to the ground the moment he took his first taste… and any futile kicks were easily enough restricted through the skillful positioning of his legs… more than skilled in the various athletics, he rendered his soft, furless prey completely under his power, tail coiling tightly around those legs as if he were a snake in the jungle. An apt comparison, as Caden suddenly became an impressive swelling in his pelt when the raccoon swallowed, his head being forced into the juicy tube of Cooper’s esophagus.

Had Sly been less focused on his greedy gut, he’d probably wonder how he had just put a large object in his mouth, or had swallowed it with such ease, or had even began the process of devouring the boy without even a single bite. Like an anaconda, he would not need to rend his prey apart to eat them… no, he had the skill and ability to swallow them whole… and based on those intense squirms and protests, alive! And he was enjoying every second of it, this guilty pleasure of shoveling a person into himself, feeling them thrash, feeling that power of knowing this individual would become a part of him just as much as ordinary food once this was all over…

Caden frantically tried to pull himself from the raccoon’s constricting grip. Had this been any other day he might have been amazed to find himself in the presence of the world’s greatest thief (who he had recognized shortly after seeing), but right now he was more occupied with not ending up inside said thief’s digestive tract! His heart practically sank as he heard one swallow, then another, then another; he felt those swallows too, slimy juices running down his body as he began to sink down those rippling folds, gravity gradually working against him as much as peristalsis as he suddenly knew he was upside down, the gluttonous procyon already nearing his waist, not having even bothered to remove his shirt! Hearing the excited heartbeat of his devourer, he suddenly found himself losing strength, having worn himself out as his muscles ached… he’d unwittingly tenderized himself, his muscles exhausted as he began to push against the entrance to Sly’s impatient stomach.

The raccoon meanwhile was enjoying every minute of this! The soaked fabric of the boy starting to slip down his throat, what little reasoning power was still intact compelled him to rip the small male’s pants right off of him, not wanting to waste a second chance to taste the human fully! As Caden began to empty into his middle, that trim stomach of Sly’s started to grow ever more fat, more gravid, being gradually filled with the most succulent meat he’d ever eaten. There was the occasional wriggle beneath that gray pelt of his, but it seemed the hybrid had worn himself out, only struggling more as Sly’s tongue dragged teasingly along his briefs. Sly tasted more than his fair share of rich flavors in those parts, and he grinned smugly with his obscenely-stretched muzzle when he was positive he could feel and taste the slightest hint of arousal… that thrill of domination was coming back again, erasing what little bit of him wanted to dislodge the boy and tell him to run away as far as he could. Instead, he just undid his belt, allowing his belly to spread more easily without risking tearing that distinctive shirt of his.

Sly’s gut sloshed outward with increasing frequency as he rapidly swallowed up the young man’s legs, Caden being packed into the humid, unbearably hot confines of his stomach, his moist figure being slathered in a layer of raccoon slime to accommodate the layer of drool. Those toes were quick to vanish past the raccoon’s lips, Sly letting out a triumphant, loud “guuulp!” as he sent the last of Caden down into his throat. His gullet acted as if it was trained for swallowing such a large meal, swiftly delivering the last of the demifox into the caustic pit of the thief’s stomach. Sly leaned against a wall, panting, able to catch his breath after holding it for those few short (but they felt so much longer devouring such a godly dish) minutes. Panting with satisfaction, Cooper ran his fingers over the large, rounded middle he now sported, now almost half his body weight in that sloshing, churning mass of fur. Groaning as he felt the half-human try to escape his snug, squishy confines, the raccoon’s grin was wiped off his face as his muzzle was forced open, a guttural, deep belch forcing its way out, causing Sly to cover his mouth and glance around him to make sure none had been awoken by it!

It was then Sly blinked, as if coming out of a trance. Looking downward, he could make out the occasional hand pushing out from his swollen tummy, only to be pulled back in by those thick, powerful walls of muscle in his stomach. He had… devoured this person. Whole. And alive. With practically no difficulty whatsoever. This was horrible, though, and he had to regurgitate them immediately before his enzymes got to work processing Caden into more raccoon! …he groaned, though, feeling Caden’s smooth body being tossed around like putty, the stomach walls kneading at the demifox as they eagerly went to work getting him ready for digestion and absorption into the predatory procyon.

“I… need to…” Sly’s tongue lolled out of his mouth as a rush of endorphins that even his intense passion with Carmelita would have trouble topping started to pump into his system. “Find more…” Swallowing his reservations about this even more rapidly than he had swallowed Caden, the raccoon grabbed hold of his ancestral cane, chastising himself for letting it fall to the floor so easily. Placing it in his mouth he grabbed hold of a pipe and began to scale it… but hearing a rather loud creak, his ears flattened against his head as he quickly jumped away from it before it snapped and fell towards the street with a loud clang.

“…alleyway then!” Cooper was quick enough to dash (jostling Caden around quite audibly in that sloshing bath of his!) into an alley away from sight… appropriate as more than one light suddenly was illuminating the windows of the street he’d been on. Waddling through the alley with some difficulty, he cursed his swollen abdomen, which was making his normal thieving talents all but useless. If Comotodo was real, how the heck did he manage to do this so casually for all those centuries, not being caught even once? It baffled his mind… almost as much as the fact he’d practically blacked out for the duration of his consumption. What he did gather was his hunger was so primal his reasoning power fought a losing battle against it; he’d need to learn to control this bottomless appetite of his if he was to avoid possibly devouring Carmelita. Now that he thought about it, she smelled rather nice herself…

He slapped himself and shook his head. Those thoughts were most certainly off-limits! Individuals like Caden would be the most taste he’d get of fox. It was then Sly felt a bit troubled, taking a seat in the alleyway, not caring for his proximity to the residents’ garbage. Grabbing ahold of his own arms as if cold, he actually looked down at his middle as it remained so incredibly noisy, a round distension between his legs. Resting a hand on it, he could feel that it had clearly softened, those bulges less defined and struggles less pronounced… his meal was well on its way to becoming some more pudge on his middle. Though the effects on his figure were his secondary concern as he tried to come to terms with the guilt of having devoured another person. Just like that, he had lost control, and had claimed the entirety of this young man for himself… it was honestly very troubling; how would he keep himself from becoming a monster like those in works of fiction? A smaller belch forced its way out from his muzzle, interrupting the mood of his thoughts, but it didn’t stop him from having them… though he tried to purge the thought of how delicious Caden’s lingering taste on his breath was.

His ears perked as he heard a sound from the other side of the alley, opposite where he’d entered. Sounded like music… albeit muffled, likely by its wearer’s ears. Seemed someone was wearing headphones while taking a stroll this fine Parisian evening. Sly made a smart remark to himself how unsafe that probably was given the time, but his witty humor was interrupted as a new smell reached his nose. His mouth began to water again…

“No!” Sly shouted, quick to muffle himself to avoid someone coming to investigate the noise. Instead, he put his fingers over his nose, trying to block out that smell from reaching his brain. He closed his eyes and tried to recreate Le Paradox’s rank stench instead, desperate to kill his appetite before it could even start. Even with that lump of softening, dough-like mass protruding from his abdomen, he still felt an urge to feed… not because he was hungry, but because he wanted to. His natural needs were yielding to selfish desires, his hunger to his appetite… an appetite no ordinary food could satisfy…