{
"submission_id": "89599",
"keywords": [
{
"keyword_id": "47348",
"keyword_name": "agatha",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "96"
},
{
"keyword_id": "512",
"keyword_name": "alligator",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "5859"
},
{
"keyword_id": "85",
"keyword_name": "anal",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "130359"
},
{
"keyword_id": "11050",
"keyword_name": "beachfox",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "60"
},
{
"keyword_id": "26976",
"keyword_name": "bix",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "11"
},
{
"keyword_id": "42286",
"keyword_name": "bloodplay",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "145"
},
{
"keyword_id": "15711",
"keyword_name": "brainwashing",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "2443"
},
{
"keyword_id": "11276",
"keyword_name": "breathplay",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "2970"
},
{
"keyword_id": "47350",
"keyword_name": "cameos",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "120"
},
{
"keyword_id": "745",
"keyword_name": "castration",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "2295"
},
{
"keyword_id": "2036",
"keyword_name": "cheetah",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "15816"
},
{
"keyword_id": "47349",
"keyword_name": "christie",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "85"
},
{
"keyword_id": "631",
"keyword_name": "coyote",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "12168"
},
{
"keyword_id": "6979",
"keyword_name": "danger",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "730"
},
{
"keyword_id": "1470",
"keyword_name": "drug",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "523"
},
{
"keyword_id": "33",
"keyword_name": "fox",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "249308"
},
{
"keyword_id": "14392",
"keyword_name": "glory",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "790"
},
{
"keyword_id": "1974",
"keyword_name": "hole",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "2523"
},
{
"keyword_id": "3776",
"keyword_name": "hunting",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "1032"
},
{
"keyword_id": "11616",
"keyword_name": "killer",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "817"
},
{
"keyword_id": "4018",
"keyword_name": "labrador",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "2417"
},
{
"keyword_id": "165",
"keyword_name": "male",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "1200748"
},
{
"keyword_id": "942",
"keyword_name": "m/m",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "50840"
},
{
"keyword_id": "1516",
"keyword_name": "murder",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "1894"
},
{
"keyword_id": "1171",
"keyword_name": "naga",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "4533"
},
{
"keyword_id": "416",
"keyword_name": "oral",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "67960"
},
{
"keyword_id": "473",
"keyword_name": "otter",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "36058"
},
{
"keyword_id": "526",
"keyword_name": "panda",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "18694"
},
{
"keyword_id": "1492",
"keyword_name": "pony",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "106723"
},
{
"keyword_id": "2461",
"keyword_name": "ponyplay",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "453"
},
{
"keyword_id": "152",
"keyword_name": "raccoon",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "36986"
},
{
"keyword_id": "452",
"keyword_name": "rat",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "23608"
},
{
"keyword_id": "1196",
"keyword_name": "rave",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "1567"
},
{
"keyword_id": "3299",
"keyword_name": "serial",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "38"
},
{
"keyword_id": "47347",
"keyword_name": "slitting",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "6"
},
{
"keyword_id": "1109",
"keyword_name": "snuff",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "10670"
},
{
"keyword_id": "10350",
"keyword_name": "stabbing",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "342"
},
{
"keyword_id": "24957",
"keyword_name": "stranger",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "316"
},
{
"keyword_id": "1093",
"keyword_name": "throat",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "1707"
},
{
"keyword_id": "8360",
"keyword_name": "use",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "517"
},
{
"keyword_id": "164",
"keyword_name": "wolf",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "194003"
}
],
"hidden": "f",
"scraps": "f",
"favorite": "f",
"favorites_count": "21",
"create_datetime": "2011-04-01 18:29:42.22598+00",
"create_datetime_usertime": "01 Apr 2011 20:29 CEST",
"last_file_update_datetime": "2011-04-01 18:22:44.993415+00",
"last_file_update_datetime_usertime": "01 Apr 2011 20:22 CEST",
"username": "Charn",
"user_id": "1789",
"user_icon_file_name": "1180_Charn_2v1q3ag.gif",
"user_icon_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/large/1/1180_Charn_2v1q3ag.gif",
"user_icon_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/medium/1/1180_Charn_2v1q3ag.gif",
"user_icon_url_small": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/small/1/1180_Charn_2v1q3ag.gif",
"file_name": "116950_Charn_sixlittleraverboys.doc",
"file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/116/116950_Charn_sixlittleraverboys.doc",
"file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/116/116950_Charn_sixlittleraverboys.doc",
"file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/116/116950_Charn_sixlittleraverboys.doc",
"thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/116/116950_Charn_sixlittleraverboys.jpg",
"thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/116/116950_Charn_sixlittleraverboys.jpg",
"thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/116/116950_Charn_sixlittleraverboys.jpg",
"thumb_huge_x": "200",
"thumb_huge_y": "200",
"thumb_large_x": "200",
"thumb_large_y": "200",
"thumb_medium_x": "120",
"thumb_medium_y": "120",
"files": [
{
"file_id": "116950",
"file_name": "116950_Charn_sixlittleraverboys.doc",
"file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/116/116950_Charn_sixlittleraverboys.doc",
"file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/116/116950_Charn_sixlittleraverboys.doc",
"file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/116/116950_Charn_sixlittleraverboys.doc",
"mimetype": "application/msword",
"submission_id": "89599",
"user_id": "1789",
"submission_file_order": "0",
"full_size_x": null,
"full_size_y": null,
"screen_size_x": null,
"screen_size_y": null,
"preview_size_x": null,
"preview_size_y": null,
"initial_file_md5": "3a18311cac677fbe151c1b971091c1b3",
"full_file_md5": "3a18311cac677fbe151c1b971091c1b3",
"large_file_md5": "",
"small_file_md5": "",
"thumbnail_md5": "7507507a13028e9f7c4aedc517aba9cb",
"deleted": "f",
"create_datetime": "2011-04-01 18:22:44.993415+00",
"create_datetime_usertime": "01 Apr 2011 20:22 CEST",
"thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/116/116950_Charn_sixlittleraverboys.jpg",
"thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/116/116950_Charn_sixlittleraverboys.jpg",
"thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/116/116950_Charn_sixlittleraverboys.jpg",
"thumb_huge_x": "200",
"thumb_huge_y": "200",
"thumb_large_x": "200",
"thumb_large_y": "200",
"thumb_medium_x": "120",
"thumb_medium_y": "120"
}
],
"pools": [],
"description": "Because TEN little raver boys would have been pretentious.\n\nSo :iconBeachfox: is an amazing artist who has done a variety of things for me, crazy things like the Masquerade Wrap up, hot things like the Charn/Dexter dancing image, and sweet things like BanjoKitty. \nWe were talking, and to be honest I've wanted to do something like this for a while, so it was good to 'whet my stone' or whatnot on something like a serial killer snuff story. This takes place (as much as it can take place) in the Beachfoxverse, so there are a lot of beachfox-centric cameos.\n\nThere are other people involved, too, though. Feel free to list off any you see below - if you're right, I'll add them to the tags. :)\n\nPlot Synopsis:\nSix horny raver dudes pick up Bix the Wandering Coyote (Serial Killer) and take him to a rave. \nHilarity Ensues!\n\nNote - I rewrote the Chubs death scene, to make it a little bit hotter.\n\nSide note: I feel like I could have written more into the actual death scenes, but I also wanted to keep the plot moving. Any criticisms are welcome. ",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "Because TEN little raver boys would have been pretentious.
So :iconBeachfox: is an amazing artist who has done a variety of things for me, crazy things like the Masquerade Wrap up, hot things like the Charn/Dexter dancing image, and sweet things like BanjoKitty.
We were talking, and to be honest I've wanted to do something like this for a while, so it was good to 'whet my stone' or whatnot on something like a serial killer snuff story. This takes place (as much as it can take place) in the Beachfoxverse, so there are a lot of beachfox-centric cameos.
There are other people involved, too, though. Feel free to list off any you see below - if you're right, I'll add them to the tags. :)
Plot Synopsis:
Six horny raver dudes pick up Bix the Wandering Coyote (Serial Killer) and take him to a rave.
Hilarity Ensues!
Note - I rewrote the Chubs death scene, to make it a little bit hotter.
Side note: I feel like I could have written more into the actual death scenes, but I also wanted to keep the plot moving. Any criticisms are welcome. ",
"writing": "Six little raver boys, going for a ride. Stop to grab a hitchhiker and then there were five. \n\nFive little raver boys, drinking up a storm. One steps out for a smoke and then there were four.\n\nFour little raver boys, dancing full of glee. One feels a little sick and then there were three.\n\nThree little raver boys, all without a clue. One takes a tinkle, and then there were two.\n\nTwo little raver boys, having lots of fun. One hooks up with a ‘yote, and then there was one.\n\nOne little raver boy, the game was almost done. Didn’t want to share with Bix, and now there are none.\n\nChapter Ten, Nine, Eight, and Seven - Hitch hikers\n\nOne regular, average, totally inconspicuous Friday night, an unmarked white van swung down Route 56. The moon shone brightly over head, the highway gleaming gray and silver beneath. The van was swerving back and forth from one side of the road to the other. There were no windows in the back, so it was hard to see what was going on, exactly, but if the van swished past someone standing on the side of the road, they would hear the dumph Dumph Dumph dumph of the music bouncing around inside, and would smell the burnt leafy smell of weed and poorly maintained transmission in it’s wake.\n\n The driver of said vehicle, a certain Brion Scalesworth, bobbed his head to the sound of Lazy Town. The rest of his body remained mostly still, which wasn’t too surprising, considering how cramped the big, powerful lizard’s body looked, folded and curled over the wheel. The van jostled, laughing coming from the back as the thump of one body or another slammed against the side of the van. He heard a precarious cracking sound, plastic or something like that. A glance into the rear view mirror showed two large figures, swaying back and forth, arms locked around each others' shoulders.\n\n “Faggots,” he mumbled under his breath. “Chubs, calm them down will ya?” As if in response, another loud bang sent the van tottering over the center line. The bulky, black and white form in the passenger seat twisted awkwardly, turning and sliding to face the back.\n\n “Dudes! Remember, this is a RENTAL,” the panda called out. Another loud thump, and the loud GRRRRRRRRT of the wheels sliding over the grooved strips overrode his protests. “Dudes! Not cool! If we damage the car, it’s going on my insurance!”\n\n “Whatever”, snorted one of the grappling forms in the middle seat. “Darwin’s gotta beg for mercy, first!” There was a masculine Grunt, as the more muscular of the two bent the huskier of the two onto his back. \n\n Chubs frowned at the macho displays, about to protest. Then again, the horse and the fox were Always wrestling like this, and it was... kind of stimulating, watching the beefy pony and the strong, chubby vulpine grinding against each other. Especially when the fox cheated.\n\n That soft knee came up, between Emmanuel’s thighs, and with a grunt, the horse flopped backwards. Darwin curled up and immediately wrapped one arm around the bodybuilder’s neck, putting him in a choke hold. \n\n “Oh yeah, who’s gonna say uncle now? Huh? Say it! Say it!” Darwin gloated over the horse, using his weight to push the horse down, bending him backwards in an uncomfortable looking angle. The pony, who was wearing naught but a wife beater and a pair of gray sweat pants, flailed at the air with his one free arm, but he could not dislodge the fox. Chubs’ lower jaw dropped open, for as he had been bent into that position, the horse’s sweats had ridden down, and now his folded up legs pushed the weight of a well stuffed black jock pouch towards the voyeur. \n\n He was about to reach out, to give the horse a grope - after all, it’s not like Emmanuel could really protest, when the gator driving the rental van spoke up.\n\n “Hey, dudes... is that Graham's Cadillac?”\n\n Chubs, Emmanuel, Darwin, and indeed, the two others in the back seat of the van all peered through the windshield. True enough, there was a pale silver Cadillac, mid seventies, pulled over on the side of the road with it’s blinkers flashing. There was a figure standing near the front, a thumb sticking out.\n\n “Yeah, that’s Graham's car!” said the fox, leaning forward with one brown furred forearm on either seat. Chubs grimaced at the smell leaking out of the fox’s t-shirt. Musky was an understatement. “But that’s NOT Graham! Pull over!”\n\n The others murmured, and the white van pulled over in front of the Cadillac The hitchhiker moseyed on over, and as the side door of the van opened, he stopped.\n\n Out poured the contents of the van. Six twenty something year old males, all sweaty and wide (and red-tinged) eyed, with curious looks on their muzzles.\n\n The hitchhiker pulled off his worn looking leather hat, revealing himself to be a red wolf, or perhaps a coyote. “Evenin’, folks. You heading towards Los Lobos?”\n\n “Yeah!” said the gator, stepping forward, taking charge. He was a Big dude, hugely built, like a power lifter. On top of the muscle, there was fat, so that his naked torso’s scales glittered under the pale milky moonlight, light gray and black. “We are... there’s a party we’re going to.” He glanced to the Cadillac, suspicion evident on his muzzle. “That your car? It’s nice!”\n\n The hitchhiker raised an eyebrow. Canted his head slightly, as if trying to understand a foreign language. Finally, he turned, glancing at the car, then back to the gator. “What, that one? Oh, no. I was driving by, and saw this pulled over on the side of the road. There were four fellas standing beside it -”\n\n An excited murmur broke out behind the gator, and the coyote’s ears flicked forward, catching some of the whispers. \n\n ‘Must have been Graham and Ike!’ ‘Yeah, and Jason too, and he probably brought his brother Howie.’ ‘I told him to get his oil changed, dufus!’\n\n Brion interrupted them with a clearing of his throat. “So where’s your car, now? and where are they?” the Cadillac's hood was propped, and the windows were rolled down. There didn’t seem to be anyone sitting in the car.\n\n “Oh, well, they said they were going to a rave or something, over in the warehouse district... I was actually heading towards it myself, so, I said they could use my car.”\n\n Brion was incredulous. “You just gave them your car? And stayed here with theirs? That doesn’t seem likely.”\n\n The hitchhiker smiled. “Well, I guess I’m kind of old fashioned.” His smile widened, full of gleaming teeth. “I just have an old beat up Honda civic. This car here’s probably worth a lot more. But mine worked, and they seemed in more of a hurry than I. I told them to take my car there, and I’d just get this one running again and catch up with them there.”\n\n “Dude, that’s totally cool of you!” Emmanuel said. The horse was a good bit taller than the gator, his muscle shirt doing a poor job of hiding the round, meaty, beefy pecs underneath. The horse’s shoulders and arms were broad slopes of curving muscle. Not that huge, tight puffy kind of muscle, but the softer, stronger kind, the kind that showed that the pony wasn’t just in it for looks. The coyote nodded appreciatively, looking the horse up and down, pausing at the white jockstraps emerging from the horse’s sweats. A full three inches of lean belly and Adonis belt separated those sweats from the hem of the muscle shift, and those jock straps gripped around the horse’s hips, almost desperately, as if a great weight threatened to pull them back under those loose sweats. “Graham NEVER gets his oil changed, I’m ALWAYS telling that stupid dog to get it looked at, or Something!” He laughed.\n\n Brion didn’t seem so convinced. “So they just gave you the keys to their car?”\n\n “Well, yeah.” the coyote reached into his jacket pocket, idly pulling the two flaps back, showing off his own lean, trim musculature. Not sculpted in any means, the coyote just had that rangey, ‘hungry’ look that comes from those that travel a lot. Brion heard a purr from behind him, and rolled his eyes. \n\n “Alex. Please. At least wait until we’re at the rave before you start hooking up,” the gator murmured, elbowing backwards and getting a satisfying oof as he thumped the short, slender feline in the ribs.\n\n “But he’s delicious looking...”\n\n The coyote had pulled out a familiar looking set of keys, a couple of car keys, house keys, and a blue squishy pompom that made everyone chuckle with relief. Those were Graham's keys, all right, and it’s not like Graham would just give them to some random coyote unless he trusted them!\n\n Brion smiled, finally, his paranoia quelled. “Well, that was awful nice of you to offer to fix their car for them.” He started to walk towards the Cadillac. “did you get it all fixed up?”\n\n “Naw, I couldn’t,” the coyote said, stepping aside. Stepping slightly towards the others as the gator leaned over the heavy metal hood, propped up with a single, bent and rusty metal prong. “It’s the serpentine belt. Snapped in half, it’s not something I can fix.” He pulled a tightly coiled rubber ball from his other paw. “I got it here. Was hoping to get a ride into town, so I could replace it for them. It’s not that hard to do.”\n\n Brion, apparently didn’t know much about cars. The gator nodded, studying the engine gravely, then unhooked the metal prong and slammed the hood down with a CLANG. There was a soft, squishy sound, like the splatter of liquid from somewhere under the engine block. \n\n Brion walked back to the coyote, holding out his paw. “I’m Brion. Why don’t you come with us to the party? You can chill, and get your car back, and we can take care of that belt thingie tomorrow morning, after we’re done having our fun.”\n\n The coyote shook the gator’s paw, his own warm, if a little sticky. “Nice to meet you, Brion, I’m Bix. And I’d be much obliged.”\n\n “No problem. Let’s see, this stud here is Emmanuel,” the burly pony stuck out his chest, crushing the slender coyote’s paw in his own. “The fat panda is Chubs... err... Corey. Tall skinny otter dude is Frederick, the cat twinkie is Alex, and the fox is Darwin.” Hands were shaken, packages checked out, and more than one paw gave the coyote’s ass a squeeze as the six horny raver boys hounded their new friend into the van.\n\n The white van peeled out, leaving a little cloud of smoke and dust in it’s wake. And one, seemingly abandoned car. The blinkers went on and off, on and off, except for the two in the back. They had been shorted out. And underneath the trunk of that car, drooling over the license plate, and pooling slowly on ground,was a thick, red blood. A thump came from the back, one last attempt to escape, before Graham, the plucky dalmatian and owner of the car, finally gave up. It’s hard to wiggle out of a locked trunk, after all, especially when the bodies of three of your best friends were on top of you. Especially when they were still bleeding. Especially when the blood had pooled over your head, and you couldn’t breath any more. At this point, as the van peeled away, Graham decided he would take a little nap... just close his eyes, for he was so tired. When he woke up, he would try to get loose again.\n\nChapter Six - The inside of a Twinkie\n\n The inside of the van was a little quiet, at first. It was if the camaraderie in the beginning of the trip had been... dissipated by the arrival of the coyote. He was a little older than the other boys, that was for sure. Not one of them were over twenty five, but he was closer to forty than thirty. He seemed awful mellow though, and though he was ten years older than them, he still seemed to fit in.\n\n “Smells like weed in here,” He commented, glancing conspiratorially back and forth between the otter and the cheetah. Alex smiled brightly up to the coyote, whiskers curling forward. \n\n “Yeah it does, doesn’t it? That’s cuz we were smoking it.” He leaned into the coyote, slipping a paw under that open jacket and stroking the lean, rangy chest there. He felt the coyote gasp, chest tightening with the captured breath, before an arm lazily curled around his shoulders. “Oh, you’re warm...”\n\n Emmanuel peered back, from the middle seat, frowning. He glared at the cheetah, jealousy pulling his lips down tighter than they would normally be. The otter to Bix’s right coughed, a bit.\n\n “Dude. Not cool.”\n\n “What? We were.. he can probably smell it on us. Can you?” Alex smiled back to Emmanuel, and then pulled away from the coyote, curling himself in the corner. “Can you smell any weed on me?” \n\n “He could be a NARC, Alex!” Frederick whispered, though the coyote was sitting between them.\n\n Bix glanced from the cheetah, to the otter. “And if I were a Narc, would I he holding... this?” He pulled a bag from inside his jacket, and tossed it to the otter, who snatched it out of mid air. \n\n Frederick unraveled the bag, snuffled at it. “Whoa. Hey man, this stuff smells just like mine.” He laughed, “We must have the same dealer.” He canted his head to the side. “Scrawny rabbit dude, named Jason? He’s supposed to be at the party.” \n\n The coyote nodded, his paw sliding to stroke under the lithe little cheetah’s tight mesh tee shirt. Up and down, as the sinuous feline purred rapturously, over the top, one foot pushing out of it’s Croc and unsubtly working it’s way into the coyote’s crotch. “Yup, that sounds like him.” He handed out his paw, for the weed back, but Frederick grinned to the coyote. \n\n “Uh uh. Dude, we’re giving you a free ride to the party. I’m out. This is your payment.” Even as he explained to Bix how things work, around here, the lanky otter was rolling himself a fattie. The slender fingers tucked, rolled, twisted, and a slick pink otter tongue wetted it. The lighter flicked open, and after a few seconds’ draw, greenish gray smoke fluffed out into the van.\n\n Bix’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realize those were the terms of the arrangement.” He held out his paw a bit longer, but realizing finally that the otter was not going to give his weed back, he turned his attention back to the cheetah, who was giggling and grinding at his crotch. “You like that, huh?” He turned his back on the otter, who puffed at his stolen joint again.\n\nAlex most certainly Did like it. The cheetah, Bix found out, was actually rather tightly, lightly muscled. A paw found six pronounced ridges under that mesh shirt, stroking against them with slow, experienced eagerness. His wrist sometimes brushed against the rather jutting bulge in the feline’s shorts. A dip underneath, and up the leg of those shorts, and Bix ts-tsked at the squirming feline. \n\n“Someone forgot to wear underwear tonight.”\n\n“I didn’t forget,” Alex replied, his fingers busy at the coyote’s jeans. button undone, and then the zipper, as the older, experienced knotter worked to peel off his shirt. He pulled the mesh up, and Alex had to lift his arms to let it be stripped entirely off. “I didn’t think I’d need them. Easier access that way.”\n\n“I see,” replied Bix, smiling as he twisted the shirt a few times, before he pulled it entirely off of the cheetah’s slender arms. His paws jutted from the mass of knotted mesh, and Alex purred ferociously, his shorts bulge darkening with sudden pre-cum. “My my, you are a trampy little slut aren’t you...”\n\n“Yes, sir, I am,” the cheetah wriggled, ‘trapped’ by his own shirt, as Bix lifted his arms up and hooked the shirt-knot over the dry-cleaner hanger over the seat.\n\nThe joint was passed to the middle seat, as the coyote slowly pulled those tight little bootie shorts down. Alex’s erection boinged out into the open, already tightly erect, a cute five inches of feline pride. Those shorts were pulled down to just his ankles, and then the coyote knelt on them. \n\n“Now you’re trapped. And all mine,” The coyote growled, and Frederick banged on the side of the fan.\n\n“DING DING!” He crowed. “Alex’s bagged his first cock!”\n\nEmmanuel turned again, glowering, then folded his beefcake arms and faced front.\n\n“I told you to wait until we got to the rave, Alex! You’re such a skank!” The gator grumbled.\n\n“Well technically,” the panda replied, “We’re pretty much there.. that’s the drive way now.”\n\nThe occupants could hear the music playing from the car, vibrating the metal walls, the plastic trim. The gravel crunched under foot as it pulled in, and the doors swung and slid open, the ravers all hopping out onto the night air, again. \n\nExcept for Alex and Bix. They were preoccupied. AT this point, Bix was letting the cheetah squirm and mew deliciously as he toyed with that feline cock with his left paw. The other was undoing his pants, and working at his own stiffy. \n\n“Come on, guys,” Emmanuel said, peering at them from outside. “We’re all going in. Don’t you have to get your keys from Graham?” \n\nBix paused, then turned to the horse. Standing, his red shaft drooping out and over his fat nuts, he moved to stand at the door. Smiling to the horse, he leaned out, giving him a lick up one cheek.\n\n“There’s plenty of Bix to go around, pony. Why don’t you and your friends go in and have some fun. Me and Alex are are going to have some fun... and then I’ll come hunt you down.” He winked, and that white door slid shut. And locked. Emmanuel snorted, feeling his jock tighten around his bulging sheath. Something about that coyote just Did it for him. \n\nHe turned, and followed the other dudes into the rave. \n\nThe inside of the van was dark, now. Silent, too. Mostly. Occasionally some chattering couple walked by, but nobody knew that the two males were in it. The doors locked, the cheetah tied up. \n\nAlex could feel his heartbeat racing as in the darkness, the coyote’s form came back to him. He could feel the seat underneath him shift as weight laid on it. He felt his ankles lifted, and hooked onto the other clothes-hanger hook, suspending him in the air. The coyote pushed up between the cheetah’s legs, and a hot slippery heat pushed against his asshole.\n\n“Oh, fuck, you’re soooo big,” the cheetah purred, slowly working to push himself down on that hot dick. He had to kind of squat, bending his legs outwards, but he was determined to get fucked tonight, and even if it was a little clumsy, he was gonna do it. “You gonna put it in me?”\n\nIt already was in him. Not all of it, mind you, but enough to make his guts tingle. He heard a sound, in the darkness, something like metal sliding against wood. A sort of “shrrrsh” sound. \n\n “I sure am,” was the reply, and he felt the sudden, hot, violent thrust of the coyote’s hips into his rump, that bulging knot slapping his ass. \n\n “Ooooh, Shiiiit!” The cheetah moaned out, clenching down. He was by no means loose, but the suddenness of it, the abrupt Thrust, the powerful shudder that coursed through him in response. All in the Dark. It was making him giddy. “Yeah! Deeper! Harder!”\n\n A claw tickled along his taut, squirming twink-belly, tracing up and down between the abs there. That thick cock pulled back, and he could hear the mirth in the coyote’s voice.\n\n “You want all of it?” Sawing back in, again, the claw pressing against his belly harder.\n\n “Oh, yes! Yes, Give it to me! All of it! Hard as you can!”\n\n “Well...” It sawed out, pushed back in. “If you insist.” And that claw, against his belly, which wasn’t really a claw at all, pushed in. It was actually much, much bigger than a claw. Sharper. And made of metal. The coyote’s bowie knife plunged into the cheetah’s belly at his left side, and he yowled!! As that blade was yanked, roughly, across his guts from left to right.\n\n Leo and Marcus held hands as they walked through the parking lot. It was a beautiful moonlit night. The two lions, one yellow, one black, were shoulder to shoulder, and heavily in love. They paused as they passed by a white van, which was rocking violently back and forth.\n\n Leo giggled, blushing, and Marcus’ jaw dropped. They could hear the wet slapping sounds inside, and what sounded like a cat being murdered. Yowling, pleading, crying sounds, and underneath it, the almost maniacal, breathless sounds of an older man.\n\n “Oh gods, it hurts!”\n\n \t “You begged for it, slut, now take it!”\n\n “Stop, Please! Nooooo!”\n\n \t “Not until I’ve drained you dry!”\n\n “It burns and stings!!”\n\n Marcus coughed, and tugged at Leo’s arm, the two continuing their walk. Both now had pronounced bulges down the inside seams of their pants.\n\n “Wow, some people like it rough.” Leo commented, rubbing himself absentmindedly.\n\n “Yeah. Maybe we’ll run into him later, huh?” Marcus replied, giving Leo a grope, laughing.\n\n “Oh, yeah, well the top.” he snickered, “It doesn’t sound like there will be much of the bottom.”\n\n \n\n Truth be told, there wasn’t a lot left of Alex already. He had been eviscerated, but curled up as he was, there wasn’t anywhere for his intestines to go. Until that knife punched through his back, thrusting up as the coyote thrust in. Ripping him a ‘pour spout’ for the thick slithering organs to drool out. The van’s cheap pleather seats were ruined. At least in the back. He struggled of course, but the way he was hooked up, there wasn’t any way to get loose, short of ripping the van in half. Each time he swung, the van swung too, the shocks absorbing the struggle. The knife stabbed into his guts again, just under his rib cage.\n\n “Oh god, please. I don’t.. “ the cheetah coughed iron into his mouth, and talked through it, with blood bubbling from his lips. “..want to die...”\n\n “And?” the coyote countered, stabbing him again. Through the ribs, twisting the pommel of his bowie knife, to puncture the cheetah’s lung. There was a gurgle as the air inside squeezed out, between the blade and the bones. “How does that affect me?”\n\n Alex felt tired, his head lolling back against the metal wall of the van. “Please....” he begged, weakly, the life draining from him. His insides burned as the air rushed in to replace what used to be there, and he felt that knife stab into his other lung. Felt it deflate. He tried to breath in, and coughed, choked. Only it wasn’t coming out of his mouth. It was shuddering and spraying from his torso. Splattering his face. \n\n When the knife pressed to his chest a third time, and pushed in... he felt it. Spearing into his soft, tender heart, spearing through it. Just like that cock had speared into his ass. He was cold now, that raging dick inside him clenching, twitching, as he felt something pop inside his chest. And then Alex was no more.\n\n “Damn it.” The coyote looked down at the cheetah’s ass. “You were a good fuck, I’ll give you that much.” Too good. He hadn’t meant to knot the slut. He tugged back, pulling at the cheetah’s ass, his slimy jizz squishing around in the corpse’s intestines. “Ugh.” That bowie knife did have it’s uses, at least. He brought it down, spearing it into the cheetah’s boney right rump cheek. \n\nChapter Five - Smoking Kills\n\nThe rave was packed. Old industrial districts were the perfect place to find an abandoned building, fix a few things, and then host a loud, obnoxious, illegal party. Everyone who was everyone was there. Except Graham and his buddies, apparently.\n\nAt the front of the bar, as the many many studly and sexy males waited in line to pay their dues and get in, advertisers plied their wares. At a table, with the three part folding bulletin board behind, a rather portly lion was showing off ‘the newest psych-o-lectrical craze since TRON’ to a group of tight muscled, thuggish looking inner city youth. They had gone ‘tribal’, and were decked out in an assortment of mismatching tribal gear. Teeth fetishes, gaudy faux gold necklace fedoras, and crudely pointed spears. But also, sneakers, iBud ear pods, and at least one polyester thong. Even as the other three looked on skeptically, two of the dudes, big burly looking pit-bulls, were fitting the futuristic metal visors over their glowery muzzles. A click, a buzz, and their hands splayed out, before settling by their sides. A big bear snickered, nudging a smaller feather-headdressed feline in the chest. “Dude, they’re boning.” And they were. \n\nInside the main building, Darwin and Emmanuel, Chubs and Brion, and Frederick, were pre-gaming. It was a ‘cool down’ area, a place to drop off coats (or shoes, or any clothes in general), so there was a steady stream of people coming in. The bouncers were checking IDs, and turning away those that looked like a freak. Occasionally, Darwin would look over to the bouncer, wistfully. \n\n “Dude! Head in the game!” Emmanuel cackled, swinging his beer and splashing it down the front of the foxes shirt. The thick flannel deflected most of it, and it ran down over the fox’s beer gut, splashing into his worn, soft looking jeans.\n\n “Dude! Faggot!” he laughed, and splashed the horse back with his own. Emmanuel puffed out his chest, making sure to get it splashed as much as possible, so that the shirt clung to his beefy frame. He grinned, and gestured, getting all five a refill. They clinked, and downed their beers, chugging the heady brown brews until only suds remained. Five cheap plastic cups clicked against the wooden plywood bar, and they waited for another drink fill.\n\n Brion glanced to the door again. “I’m surprised Graham isn’t here yet. I wish I had asked Bix what his car looked like. Maybe they’re already here.”\n\n Five glasses were raised, clinked, and emptied. \n\n “So what, maybe they decided to go for a joy ride. Maybe they’re already in there. Maybe they had to get gas.” Frederick snickered. “The coyote doesn’t look all that well off. Did you see that hat? It was like what they wore back in the forties.”\n\n The horse shrugged. “Or maybe they’re Dead, Brion. Maybe Bix killed them all and hid them all in the trunk.”\n\n Darwin punched Emmanuel in the shoulder. “Not cool, dude. Graham can hold his own in the fight. Remember that time he beat the hell out of that... what was he, anyways, some kind of furry dragon? God, he was like, UN-recognizable by the time he was done with him.”\n\n The otter and the horse laughed. “True, true. Dude deserved it though. He -did- eat Graham's cupcake.” the horse said. “What ever happened with that guy, anyways?”\n\n “I remember that guy. You’ll never believe what happened. Weird thing, somehow the ambulance got into an accident and he wound up getting thrown into one of those tree mulchers, you know the kind they use for downed branches? Apparently he went in feet first... and it got stuck on his neck.” the panda commented, gravely. “All that was left, was his head. and he was STILL ALIVE!”\n\n “Bullshit!” Brion laughed, and everyone else laughed too. “Nobody could survive that. Here’s to that furry dragon dude, whatever his name was.”\n\n “Here’s to him!” the other four chorused.\n\n Five glasses were raised, clinked, and emptied. \n\n The five of them sat and talked for a while, before Brion started patting at his pockets. “Hey, Frederick, you got a light? I’m gonna go have a smoke.”\n\n Frederick grumbled. “You know I hate letting people borrow my lighters. Just smoke one here. Nobody cares.”\n\nBrion glared at the otter, who’s tall frame was stooped over his drink, almost protectively. “I light up here, and everyone else is going to want one. I only have five left. I Wanna make them last.”\n\nFrederick rolled that around in his head, and Brion could see the otter trying to find a way to hold onto his prized Zippo. “Eh, doesn’t anyone have any matches?”\n\nDarwin perked his ears forward, the fox coming out of his haze. “Oh, right! Yeah, I got some.” he fished around in his vest pocket, pulling out a pack of matches and tossing it to Brion. “There you go.”\n\n“These are fucking Wet, Darwin.” the gator growled angrily. He slammed the plywood, enough to send the empty glasses flopping over on their sides. “Just gimme yer damn Zippo!”\n\nFrederick sighed. “FINE!” He pulled it out, and flicked it through the air to the gator, who caught it.\n\n“Hey, I’ll go with you,” the horse said. The two of them stood up. “I wanna go see how Alex and Bix are doing.”\n\n“You mean you want a turn,” the panda replied sourly. He drank another cup of beer, his immense, soft white and black body nearly engulfing the old bar stool he was sitting on. \n\n“What?” The horse sputtered, and cuffed the panda in the back of the head. “No way, I just wanna air out my shirt, get some fresh air.” He grinned tot he others, and then slapped the gator’s ass. The top heavy reptile and the beefpony strutted to the exit doors, stepping out side.\n\nInto an alley way. Above them, rusty fire escapes forlornly watched over the two males, their ladders retracted up, as if waiting for some great flood. \n\nBrion shook a smoke from his pack, and cupped his paws to light it. The Zippo, trusty as ever, sputtered to flame, and soon Brion was exhaling the pleasingly cool and refreshing cloud of Oldport Menthol into the night air. \n\n“Man, it’s beautiful out.”\n\nEmmanuel paced back and forth, glancing out to the parking lot. Biting at the bit, so to speak. “Yeah, guess so.”\n\n“What’s your problem, you still got something for that cheetah?”\n\n“Naw, man, it’s nothing like that. It’s that coyote. Something about him just, I dunno, makes my nuts tight.”\n\n“Oh, yeah.” Puff, exhale. “Yeah something seems wrong about him, but I can’t place what. I’m going to keep my eye out on him. I think he may be homeless, which means he may be here just to steal drugs n money from people.”\n\n“Wha? Oh, yeah I guess that’s possible. Did you see his ass though?” The horse snorted, loudly, grabbing his basket through his wet sweats. “I can’t wait to bury myself in it.”\n\n“You’re crazy, man. He’s probably got Aids or herpes or chlamydia or dong-droppers disease.”\n\n“Dong droppers?” the horse peered back, squinting. “Do I even wanna know?”\n\nBrion smiled. “You haven’t heard of dong droppers? It’s like.. a virus... it only attacks the ... what are they.. the ligaments, you know... the stuff that holds your dick on. You don’t even know you have it, until one day, you’re walking down the street and your dick falls down the inside of your leg.” He snickers. “I imagine yours’d trail behind you like a piece of toilet paper though.”\n\nEmmanuel turned and shook his head. “Yeah, and *I*’m the crazy one. Nothing could make my dick fall out, dude, us horses are built stronger than you reptiles. Enjoy your smoke, dude. I’m gonna check out the van and ask Bix what his car looks like.” \n\nBrion watched that cute muscular bubble butt swagger out of the alley, puffing contentedly on his smoke. “You better be careful, Emmanuel, one of these days you’re gonna wind up in my bed, and I am gonna destroy you.” He smirked. \n\nSomething wet splatted on the ground behind him. He peeked over his shoulder. The alley way was between two of the large warehouses, and there wasn’t much light, but something wet and glistening was on the ground, underneath one of the fire escapes.\n\nHe padded over, cigarette hanging between his lips. It was about the size of a fist, and... wet. He crouched down, and touched it. It was fleshy. Like... like raw meat.\n\nA loop of something fell in front of his eyes, a curling black U shape. He watched it, it was a loop, a coil... it went down to about his chest. It looked familiar...\n\nIt was a serpentine belt. He went to stand, lifting himself, but with a rattling rust CRASH, the fire escape’s ladder, just above his head, swung loose. Apparently, the belt was attached to it, for the loop swung up, noosing around his head and pulling tight. And then tighter. HE felt the weight of the ladder lift him up off of his feet, gurgling, swinging around. The belt was tight, but he was a lizard. A huge, powerful, stump-necked muscle-sheathed alligator. Whatever the hell this was, it made Brion very very angry. A dark shape swung down from the fire escape, landing nimbly beside him.\n\n“Damn,” came the familiar voice, and Brion swung one powerful leg at the coyote. The coyote laughed, and flicked out with his knife. Brion’s calf slid over the blade, the thick scales protecting it from the knife. “What’s the matter, aren’t you happy to see me?”\n\nBix slashed at the next kick, but it too avoided his sharp blade’s caress. Still, the coyote seemed amused by the sight. The gator had to wear three hundred pounds, easy, a mixture of bone, muscle and fat. Mostly muscle, and fat. He was a powerful thing. But held up in the air by his neck, he could get no leverage. The coyote grinned. \n\n“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He stooped, and picked up the red wet thing from the ground. “Well, seems only fair that you should have His.” The growled gurgling huffing sound of the strangling lizard inferred that he recognized the connection between the piece of flesh in the coyote’s paw, and the friend they had left in the van with him. He lashed out again, and this time Bix grabbed that leg, and began to dance, skipping to the right.\n\n“Let’s play a game. It’s a fun game.” he kept dancing, moving with the gator’s kicks and thrusts, spinning spinning the gator around and around.\n\n“Ring around the Rosie,” he sang, spinning. the serpentine belt, which was noose neatly around the gator’s neck, tightened. “A pocket full of posies.” Around and around, and he could feel his tongue bulging out of his mouth. Getting dizzy, dizzier as the serpentine belt slowly winched tighter around his neck. “Ashes, Ashes....” The gator stopped paying attention tot he coyote, he was scrabbling at his neck now, the thick stump winched cartoonishly thin, under his broad jaws. He gasped, gurgled as the coyote took his other leg, now limp. \n\n“We all, Fall, DOWN!” And with that, Bix YANKED. and Brion fell. \n\nHe didn't’ get back up. The sky above was so clear, after all, the stars so bright. Only they were going out, one at a time. Getting darker. Bix grinned down over him, pulling the gator’s mouth open, and stuffing something inside it. As the last of the light left his eyes, he saw the coyote pulling his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Bastard.\n\nChapter Four - Feeling Fine\n\nEmmanuel clopped through the parking lot, the cool air making his wet chest all the colder. His nipples were tight and hard, poking out through the taut muscle shirt, and he rubbed at one of them absentmindedly. \n\n“Brion, you're a dumbass,” he said, thinking about the dong dropper disease. Or whatever it was called. It sounded like one of those things a perv doctor would tell his patient to get a chance to handle his goods. Everyone always wanted to handle your goods. \n\nEmmanuel was used to being treated like meat. Most dudes he wound up going out with probably couldn’t tell you what kind of horse he was. They could probably tell you how long his dick was, though. And how thick. If they couldn’t, their ass could. He groped his jock again, as he got closer to the van. He had been expecting it to be rocking crazily. Alex had a way of bringing the wild side out of people. He listened to the side of it, but heard nothing. The back windows were tinted too darkly to see anything, especially at night. He humphed, and wandered to the driver’s side, knocking on the door. “Hey, guys?” He asked, pulling at the handle. Locked. \n\n“Hey, I uh... I forgot my.... lube....” He trailed off, hoping someone would get the connection. “Mind letting me in? I’ll only take a second... or so.” He put some leering into the last two words. He rubbed himself some more, his cock having swollen out a good bit, the jock straining to hold both it and his fat ponyballs. \n\n“Guys?” He leaned over the hood, peering in. The van was completely dark, and still.\n\n“Shucks.”\n\nHe must have missed them. He walked back around the van, and towards the rave. The party was in full swing, now. Everyone who was coming, was in. He walked up, seeing someone talking with the bouncer out front. The bouncer was saying no, arms folded, the wolf looking serious. \n\n“Oh, Hey, Bix!” The horse trotted up, and the coyote peered over, eyes wide, and paw moving to his belt. He was shirtless, his lean body heaving excitedly.\n\n“This guy with you?” the wolf glowered. Ned was really a sweetheart, underneath, but he took bouncing seriously.\n\n“Yeah, he’s with me and the gang. Where you been Bix? And you got Alex with you?”\n\n“Alex? Oh, the cheetah? he’s... with Brion... they wanted to ... take a walk together.” the coyote stuttered, eyes wide.\n\n“Oh, okay.” Emmanuel laughed, hugging the slender yote against his big burly form, his muscles warm and soft at the same time. “Don’t gotta be so nervous. Come on, everyone else is inside.”\n\nNed bit his tongue as the two furs slipped in, past his protective guide. There was something Wrong about that coyote, he could smell it on him. Something dirty and sick. But, this was a rave, not a presidential inauguration. Maybe it would be better to cut some slack. He leaned against the wall, arms folded, absentmindedly flexing his kegels. Gotta keep busy.\n\nEmmanuel glanced over to the bar, which was now empty. “Guess everyone’s in there dancing. Did you bring any E, man? or X? Or K?”\n\nBix shook his head as they walked down the ‘service corridor’, towards the swelling pumping of music. “Naw. Just some grass, and your otter friend took it.”\n\n“Oh, okay. Well if you want something, let me know, okay? I’ll take care of you,” the horse promised. They pushed through the flaps and into the foggy, trippy, skittering lights of the rave.\n\nthe horse shouted something to the coyote, but Bix couldn’t hear him, or didn’t care. The room was filled with furs. It was a huge industrial plant. Conveyor belts were carrying limp and squirming furs up to a chute that slide them down into a giant pit full of packing peanuts. Furs on angel wings hung from industrial cranes, being swung around by other furs in the cock pits. The music was playing, there were bubbles everywhere, and everywhere, Everywhere was the smell of sex.\n\nThe horse was pulling at the coyote, but he pulled back, and eventually the horse let go. He watched the burly prey animal get swallowed up in the crowd. He had other things to deal with. He moved through the crowd of swaying bodies, tripping and stoned and rolling furs staggering and tip toeing and arching. Nimble paws dipped into loose pockets. The knife flicked occasionally, pressing into the small of a back here, or through the side of an unconscious fur there. He felt giddy himself, as he was surrounded by witnesses, and yet nobody cared. He found himself a small corner, where a raccoon curled tightly in the ball huddled away from the light.\n\nHe crouched, touching the raccoon on the shoulder. “Hey buddy, you okay?” A commotion swelled over by the area he had just been, as a fur crumpled, the small slit in their spine totally hidden by their garish top made entirely out of flavored condoms and candy necklaces. \n\n“They’re coming.. coming to get me.. and I can’t move!” the raccoon shuddered. \n\n“I see... and who are coming to get me?”\n\n“The cops... I’ve seen them... they hunt you down, and then they open their mouths wide, SO WIDE! And then they eat you!” \n\n“That’s nonsense,” Bix replied, stroking the raccoon’s brow softly. “The vore cops are an urban myth, nothing more. Now, come here.... That’s right, come here...” he cuddled the raccoon close, holding the young male as he rode through his bad trip. Held him as he twitched and spasmed. Held him until the raccoon stopped struggling, going limp in his arms. “There we go... isn’t that better? Much better...” He pulled the raccoon’s head up, to look into his eye. His one eye, that is, for from the other jutted the handle of his bowie knife. “Oops, I guess I forgot about that. Sorry, little buddy. My bad.” he patted the brow, then pushed the raccoon’s head back down between his knees, leaving the curled up little crumple of striped coon to his own thoughts. What thoughts one might have with a lacerated brain, anyways.\n\nHe hadn’t gotten much further away, when he was almost crashed into by Chubs, the huge panda’s Hawaiian print shirt missing. He was sweaty, panting, his eyes wild.\n\n“Bix. Oh my god, you have to help me!”\n\n“I.. do?” Bix surreptitiously wiped his bowie knife blade on the panda’s shirt, the large, soft, fluffy bear nodding fervently. \n\n“I.. I think I drank too much... and I don’t want to get sick... can you get me out of here?”\n\n“Oh.. of course I can, big guy.” Bix chuckled. He slipped under the big bear’s arm, grunting at the warm, almost cloying Softness of the mounded male. Sticky, too. “Just come this way.”\n\n“Oh, thanks man... ugh, I think I’m gonna puke, and I don’t want to do that this time... I always puke at these things and then nobody wants to mount up afterward.”\n\n“... mount up?” Bix careened the bear through the throng, grinning as people moved - or were moved - out of the way.”You mean?” He paused, “Oh.” He grabbed the plastic bag from the hand of a wolverine, who laid, twitching, against the wall. He sniffed at it. Airplane glue. Some things never changed. “This will help, come on, let’s go over here...” \n\nThe room was, at one point, an office of some sort. The desk was still there, and the large filling cabinets, but other than that it was empty. Well except for the two rats fucking. The one on top snarled at the two intruders, thick slick pink cock slapping into the ass of the one bent over the table.\n\n“Get the fuck out.” Toprat snarled to the two. “Booth’s taken.” \n\n“He’s about to blow chunks.” The coyote replied, simply, nudging the big softie in the side. “If you want, I can have him aim it on your bottom, but it’s going to be very loud, and Very... messy.” \n\nToprat hunched, dramatically, into Bottomrat, who moaned deliriously. Their big egg-shaped nuts slapped and cracked together, bouncing, the rat ferociously defending the two. “Wait five minutes.” He panted, tail lashing the air behind him.\n\n“How about you get out,” Bix replied, pulling his knife from his sheath. “Or I’ll cut your balls off.”\n\nSPLORCH! The rat tugged that cute, fat rodent dick out of the bottom, and jumped over the desk. The bottom rat groaned, tail flagged, ass winking, as Toprat slammed the door shut behind him. \n\n“Fuck, man, don’t stop yet...” he half mumbled, half slurred, head slumping to the table. \n\n“Oh god, I’m gonna hurl.” Chubs announced his presence to the coyote again, grasping at his arm desperately. “Where’s the trash can?”\n\nBix gestured to the can, moving behind the desk. “There you go, man, have fun.”\n\nChubs got down on hands and knees, shoving his head into the can, and Hurled. The wet splattering chunks purging the nachos, beers, weed, brownies, taquitos, pizza, and that one apple he had eaten, from the last hour. Behind him, he heard Bottomrat squeal, a thrashing sound.\n\n‘Jesus, he’s fucking the rat? Now?’ he thought, picturing the two of them copulating just behind him. He pushed his head in deeper, and hurled again, the slimy plastic cool against his fevered brow. “Oh man, I think I drank WAY too much”, he murmured.\n\nThen something ripped open the back of his loose khaki shorts. \"Huh, wha?\"He lifted his head out of the garbage can, turning, and saw Bix crouching down in front of him. He opened his mouth, and bix shoved something pink and big, about the side of a mango, between his jaws. It was salty, and fuzzy, and had two harder roundish things inside it.\n\nHe worked it over, too shocked by the action to think of spitting it out, when one of the round things slid out of it's fuzzy bag and against his tongue. It was very warm, and slick with blood. As he was trying to figure out, in his befuddled intoxication, what it was, Bix straddled his large rounded waist, and hitched his ankles into the panda's flanks.\n\n\"Giddyup!\" He said, and a gray, scaled-lookign rope noosed in front of his eyes and yanked back into his mouth, like a horse's bit.\n\nHe lunged forward, instinctively, turning around and trying to throw Bix off of him.\n\n\"Hrrgll mrrgl-GLK!\" The twin orbs had been pushed to the back of his mouth, and as he tried to shout, to get Bix off of him, they were clotheslined further down his throat by the weird fleshy rope thing. He gagged, turning around, and then saw the blood drooling from the opened neck of the dead bottom rat. His butt was missing it's tail, and between his legs, there was a flap of skin where his nuts had hung.\n\n\"HGLLRK!\" He tried to shout again, and only inhaled one nut further down his throat. He bucked, tryign to throw Bix off, and the coyote indeed did swing away, hanging on only by the rat-tail he was using as a harness in the bear's mouth. He swung back, though, and PLUNK! In went a hard ole coyote cock up Chubs butterchute.\n\nThe fat panda flailed, and ran for the door on all four. Streamed out to the crowd, slamming through the people as they danced. Choking, his head swimming as the coyote swung his hat in the air behind him.\n\n\"Wooooweee! Yeeeha!\"\n\nPeople laughed, shouting \"Gettem' cowboy!\" \"I wanna ride next!\" \"Yee-doggie!\" Cheering and laughing. He bucked and thrust and pushed himself through, unable to ask for help. He gestured to his face, to a rather disdainful looking wolf in biker gear, who snorted and casually flicked his cigar in his direction.\n\nHe was getting tired, slower now, and the great rotund panda stumbled towards the front entrance, towards the fresh air outisde. Bix was mad, insane! Couldn't he see... that he was... choking? The warm slippery ratnut was not going anywhere, now, and he wound up slumping face first into one of the big pools of fluff... sinkign down into the soft packing peanuts even as a burly badger splooshed down nearby, hooting. He sank, sank, as Bix climbed off of his fallen mount. Stepping on the fat, debauched ass to climb out of the pool as Chubs slid towards the bottom.\n\nGoodbye, Chubs.\n\nChapter Three : Leaking\n\nAn otter and a fox were weaving through the crowd. They were having, a BLAST. It was like all the whiners and losers hadn’t made it tonight. Just hundreds of horny, hung, happy dudes, getting it on and having fun. They laughed, both of them stripped down to their undies. The fox was wearing a pair of camouflage boxers, riding loose and floppy on his meaty thighs, his chubby belly hanging over them. The otter was wearing a pair of red snug briefs, with the black outline of ‘flames’ licking up over his crotch.\n\n“You seen Emmanuel?” the fox wheezed, leaning against the tall otter. Both of them were thick pelted, the otter’s more bristly-stiff, the fox more whorly soft. While the otter was lankier, the fox was chubbier, a thick padding coating of soft pudge coating his bones.\n\n“Naw man. He went out with Brion, like, hours ago.” The otter commented, stroking his lean belly fur. “Check this guy out.”\n\n‘This guy’ was some sort of an elderly, heavy set lion, and he was flanked by two extremely happy looking pit bulls. Muscular, too. They had those kind of tribal branding tattoos that were popular with the Tribals in downtown Los Lobos.\n\n“My fine gentlemen,” he announced, getting closer. In either paw, he held two strange, metal helmets, which had cords that hooked up to a backpack he was wearing. “Might I interest you in a fun little ‘trip’?”\n\n“A trip?” Frederick twisted and leaned backwards, against the wall, idly scratching at his crotch. It took a few fingers a few trips to cover all of it. “What -kind- of trip?”\n\n“An amazing trip, an odyssey to the root of the mind, to your soul, and beyond!” the lion exclaimed. “Uh, err, you just have to slip these helmets on... Just slide them right over your noggin, and press a button, and-”\n\n“And you fry our cerebral cortex? Yeah, professor, thanks, but, uh, NO thanks!” The fox commented brusquely. “Come on, Frederick.” The otter didn’t’ seem QUITE as ready to say no, opening his mouth before an arm yanked at him. “Come *on*!”\n\nProfessor Lion grumbled as they wandered off, his eyes turning towards a marbled polecat, eying him up with a long cigarette in one hand. \n\n“My fine gentleman,” He started, approaching the obviously sophisticated gentleman. The helmets were tucked under his arms, and instead, he scooped either thuggish pit bull up and pushed them towards the appraising spectator. “Might I interest you in some fine quality... entertainment?”\n\nThe handsomely sarong-ed polecat drew a wad of green bills from ... somewhere in those folds, peeling out a couple hundreds, and the deal was done.\n\nFrederick let Darwin drag him through the crowd for a while, before finally he yanked his hand free. “Come on, dude, what gives?”\n\n“Oh, it’s that lion, he’s a real sleaze ball. One of my roommates was in his Intro to Mathematics class, and he got all weird, and then he dropped out of school. Last I heard he was doing Tijuana shows.”\n\n“Oh.” Frederick rubbed his chin. “Don’t see the connection. You getting hungry as I am?”\n\n“Yeah, but, I gotta take a piss more.” Darwin thumbed over his shoulder, to the gaudily lit doorway. A fox staggered out, grinning broadly. his muzzle fur was sticky, his shirt was torn and sticky. His tail was lifted up, and his little cross necklace had been tied around it, so that his sticky, crusty, well fucked ass was totally on display. He grinned, and squealed, grabbing both of our intrepid heroes’ attention as he cantered across the room.\n\n“BIX!” he cried, giving the coyote a big squeeze. “Ohmygod, how have you BEEN?”\n\nIf someone could radiate discomfort, the coyote did, and Frederick snickered at the suddenly no-longer-grinning coyote. “Oh, yeah Bix? this an old flame of yours?”\n\nBix gave Frederick a sour look, but then oofed as the preppy, happy little fox shoved a paw down the front of his pants. “Hey! You’re sticky!” He laughed, then pressed close. “Not as sticky as me, though.” It would have been gross, the way he rolled that last sentence, fluttering his eyes at the sputtering serial killer. Frederick seemed to be enjoying himself.\n\nBix peeled himself away from the fox. “Friskers, uhhh, not now okay? Look, go do your thing. forget you even saw me.”\n\nFrederick nudged Darwin. “Dude, he’s BLUSHING”, and Bix glared at him again.\n\n“Okay, honey, but you have my number... let’s hang out some time.” That paw was friskly manipulating the coyote’s crotch. “I wanna get knotted by you again! BAD. OHMYGOD!” The fox flipped around, and ran to the bannister over looking the ground floor. “NO WAY! IT’S FLESH FOR WINDIGO!! I LOVE THEM!” He winked to Bix, and climbed up on the bannister. “See ya, sexy.” And jumped right off. Frederick leaned over the edge, peering down. Friskers had landed ass first on a very startled doberman. Well, on his cock, and was grinding and twisting himself around. Even as Frederick watched, the doberman’s eyes rolled back in his head, obviously climaxing in that fox that had magically appeared around his erection. Best. Jack-off. Ever.\n\nHe turned around, to say something, but Darwin and Bix were gone. “Figures.” And then he saw the horse, Emmanuel, arguing with a large, big bellied bear with a shirt that read, proudly, “I FUCKED YOUR BOYFRIEND”. He decided to head over.\n\nDarwin pushed through the throng of dudes writhing and cavorting in the shower stalls. It being a factory, of some sort, naturally it had had a long chain of sprinklers for the workers to clean up with, and apparently those sprinklers still worked. Darwin felt his thick fox sheath chub up as he had to brush between a group of perky pups all soaping each other down.\n\n“Don’t forget your sheath, Kyle,” he heard one murmur shyly, and glancing over he saw they were doing more than soaping. That was full on circle jerk. Only standing.\n\n“Thanks, Stevie. You’re the best.”\n\nDarwin groaned, and followed two more fellows to the back of the communal shower. His cock was peeking out through the fly of his boxers, and not just from the beer that he needed to piss out of it. He was feeling a heavy tingling churning in his nuts. He found himself in the bathroom proper, with ten stalls for pissing in, and apparently no urinals. Whatever. He walked into the second from the left, and felt his foot jerk out from under him. He hopped against the wall, watching as the thick, sinuous green tail he had stepped on jerked back under the stall to his left.\n\n“Watch it, fucktard, I’m eating here!” he heard from the wall, and he coughed in embarrassment as another voice chimed in, dull and slurry, like it was through a thick blanket.\n\n“Not..yet, you aren’t...get back on this horsecock, snake-mouth..” There was a hint of drunken smugness to the slow voice.\n\n“Just you wait,” came the first voice, lower, more guttural. \n\n“Sorry,” the fox replied, feeling self conscious. Darwin aimed his dick down at the toilet, and had just managed to get a few squirts in when he heard the moaning sound to his left. It was a low, very pleasurable sound, and it made his cock harden against his fingers, all the way to almost knotting. There was a wet slurping sound, that made the fox’s knot pop out of his sheath, and he grunted.\n\n“oh, Yeah, suck it you bad, bad Naga... mmm... can you take it all the way? Can you deep throat my pony bologna?”\n\nA low, guttural growl, another wet slurping sound, and an intense moan was the response. ‘Fuck’, the fox thought, stroking his cock. ‘This is frigging’ Hot..’ He was stroking himself, slowly working his cock from tip to knot and back again, when he heard a grunt to his right. He turned.. and saw a yellow-furred snout peek through. A long red tongue flickered out to cover that dark nose. It looked familiar, but Darwin couldn’t tell ... from Where. The big, chubby fox licked at his lips. behind him, he heard another moan, and a deeper slurp, that went on for ten seconds.\n\n“Fuck it.” he pushed his cock against that hole pushing the snout back, and then cramming his burly prick on through. It wasn’t the longest dick in the world. He was a fox, after all. but man was it thick. Just like him. He pressed it in, sucking in a breath as something wet and hot wrapped around his prong. \n\n“Oh, yeah... yeah suck it,” he said, and there was a noise from the stall behind him. \n\n“Excuse me?” said that first voice, but Darwin didn’t care.\n\n“Come on, man, take it all... I’m dying for you to swallow the whole thing,” \n\nThe second voice slurred, “Come on, Seth... he waants you to... show him you can.”\n\n“Oh, I’ll fucking show him!” There was a sound of something large shifting, and a grunt, and another wet slurping sound. Louder, more visceral this time. Darwin’s eyes rolled back in his head as he ground his knot against that hole. \n\n“Fuck, yeah!” he was getting sucked by a pro, a hot mouth tonguing and torquing, twisting and coiling around his cock like a lollipop. “Oh, man, you’re a pro at that... come on, more! Go harder!”\n\nA muffled grunt on either side of him reflected back, but Darwin didn’t care. If that other guy wants encouragement to deep throat a horse dick, more power to him. He crammed his hips against the wall, as that tongue teased and tickled him closer and closer to cumming. “Come on, just a little bit more...... nnngh... you can do it!” He thrust a last time, the hole gripping his knot so tightly. It was wedged just around the widest part of his beercan of a cock the fox knew he was about to cum. And then the worse thing, Ever, happened. He popped through onto the other side.\n\n“FUCK!” that mouth was gone, and he heard the stall door open. “Shit, man, don’t tell anyone... come on, just gimme ten minutes..” His own stall door opened. Bix stood there, a peculiarly.... evil grin on that sly coyote muzzle. “Oh. Bix, hey, uh. Oh, was that you on the other side?”\n\nBix said nothing, just sliding up behind the trapped pudgy fox. Darwin squirmed uncomfortably as the coyote reached around his font, and rubbed and pinched at his cock root. He tried to pull back, showing the older ‘yote that he was, indeed, stuck.\n\n“Wanna help me out? You kinda... stopped.. right when I was about to, you know...”\n\n“Shhh,” the coyote said, real close to his ear. He reached up, and Darwin’s eyes saw the gleaming silver of a blade. \n\n“What’s that for-” but then he couldn’t speak anymore. His throat popped. The blade slid nice and cleanly right through it, right over his throat and his neck. He felt a gallon, it felt like, of hot blood flush down over his big bulging belly, gurgling. Yanking at the wall, frantically. That blade slipped down, and he felt a hot slash of pain there, too. He was free, though, the fox staggering back from the wall. A little push from the coyote, and he was tripping, falling on the toilet, plunking his ass down in his own piss on the seat. His blood drooled over his belly, and as he looked down, he saw that his sheath was empty. His fat fox-nuts still tight and clenched just below. But his dick was gone. His head drooped, his strength gone, as the coyote wiped his blade clean on his brow, between his ears. Everything was going dark. But there, on the other side of the stall... someone had left a dildo. A dildo that looked like his cock. \n\nBix waited until the fox was done bleeding, until the toilet bowl was dark red with his blood. He reached under the wall, and grabbed the stubby severed dick, and tossed it between the fox’s thighs. It splashed in the water, and the coyote reached over the fox’s shoulder to flush the toilet.. The dick swirled around, and around, still knotted, before it vanished down the bottom of the toilet, on a magical adventure of it’s own.\n\nHe stepped outside the stall, and the stall next to him swung open. A big, green Naga snake was glaring at him, heaving, with a squirming... oddly horse shaped bulge imprinted against the front of his scales. \n\n“You like that, you sick freak? You enjoy watching me suck that horse down?”\n\nBix balked, glancing to the left and right, and then to the still form of the fox, slumped in the other stall. He cleared his throat.\n\n“Yeah, dude. Totally hot. I hope you suck down more horses like that. Soon. Um.” he gave a little bob with his hat, and then slunk around the tile, leaving the big, stuffed reptile behind. “Weirdo.”\n\nChapter Two - Death and Seduction\n\nEmmanuel pushed the smirking bear in the chest. “Fuck you, I don’t need to get fucked to find out if I’m straight or gay. I know I’m gay!”\n\n“Hey, dude, chill. I don’t want no double-tapped horse butt anyways,” the bear responded, still smirking. “You just look like one of those uptight straight boys who needs a log of bear meat ground into their love buttons.”\n\nFrederick rested a paw on the horse’s shoulder. “Dude, you okay?” He nodded to the bear. “Oh, hey. You still the RA over in the Nova City Dorms?” He kneaded the horse’s shoulders, as he talked, massaging his friend.\n\n“Not since that incident with the Dean, naw. Suspended my dorm privileges, permanently. Trying to get hazed over at Stuftpouch, though. You seen those guys?” The bear whistled.\n\nFrederick chuckled, still stroking the angry stallion’s shoulders, and nodded again. “Yeah, well, be careful. I hear the swim team had a bad infection of jock itch. Something, like, tropical. The coach had to, yanno, nut them.”\n\n“Nut them?” The bear canted his head. “Oh, fuck man, what a waste, you mean castrated? Shit. Dude. Buzz kill.” he crumpled his plastic cup in his paw and tossed it to the side. “I’m gonna go watch the dalmatian daisy chain in the shower. See ya.”\n\n“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” The otter’s red streaked eyes were focused on the pony’s own, holding him at arm’s length. “You’ve been getting more and more agitated ever since we got in the van.”\n\n“Oh, I dunno. It’s Bix He’s like.” the horse shrugged, helplessly, and the two of them walked. Behind them, a coyote in an old leather hat followed, passing by the bear that pressed so urgently into the bathroom. The two didn’t even seem to see each other. \n\n“..it’s like he GETS me, you know? he’s like this older guy, sure, but you can tell he’s really into his stuff. Like he KNOWS what he’s doing. Have you seen how he smiles? It’s like, when he smiles, you know he’s got control of the whole situation, and everything is going to be okay.”\n\nThey passed through the cafeteria, which was mostly empty. There was a bull sitting on the table, gagged, sitting still. He was still wearing a feathered head dress and a pair of Reeboks, but otherwise his body, and maleness had been stripped bare. Beside him, a pudgy, bulky horse with glasses, and an apron that Almost went past his junk was fiddling with a bag of groceries. They passed by, as the horse pulled out a bottle of red wine, and a small bottle of Cajun seasoning, peering at the bound bull curiously.\n\n“Yeah?” The otter shrugged, and they kept walking. “So? You wanna like... what.. fuck him or something?”\n\n“No, man. Don’t be crass. I want to make LOVE to him. With all of me. I want to let him do whatever he wants with me.”\n\nFrederick’s left side of his face sneered up uncontrollably. “He seems kinda like a douche to me. One of his exes ran up to him, and he totally played it off. He seems like he’s the type, he’ll have his way for you, and then he’ll leave you in a pool of your own... fluids.”\n\n“Well, maybe that’s what I want... it’s tough being a big, strong horse, Frederick. You wouldn’t understand. You’re just an otter. Everyone expects you to be a slut. A horse, though, everyone just wants you to fuck them. Fuck fuck fuck. It’s like I can’t go a day without someone wanting me to snake their pipes.”\n\n“Look, this is killing MY buzz. You wanna go fuck the creep, go right ahead, but don’t go insulting me and otters over it.”\n\n“Fuck who?” A third voice came from the side.\n\n“Oh, jeez!” The two exclaimed at once, whipping to see him. It was Bix of course, and apparently he had been listening in to their little conversation. \n\n“Uh, Frederick... I think I saw some sort of wrestling contest, up near the band-stage. Some bird dude whaling on an ork. You like wrestling, right?”\n\nFrederick didn’t. But the chance to see an ork get pummeled on, and more importantly, the chance to to get away from Bix the Dix had him nodding and shuffling off. Bix smiled as the otter wandered past. \n\n“Oh, hey, Frederick?” he called past him.\n\n“Yeah?”\n\n“I met your Graham friend, he said he had some more of that ... stuff you like so much. Said to tell you to meet him up on the roof.”\n\n“Oh. Cool. Thanks.”\n\nFrederick shuffled off, and Bix rested his paws on Emmanuel’s hips. “Now. What was this about wanting to spend some private time with Bix?”\n\nFive minute later, the two had found a private room. \n\nA minute after that, Emmanuel was breathing hard as the coyote slowly peeled his shirt off his broad muscled chest.\n\nA minute after that, the horse was face down on the dirty concrete floor, and a hot, hard coyote cock was being ground into his meaty, tight little bubble but. His own thick cock was crushed between his hips and the floor.\n\nHe muttered his profanities of choice as the coyote roughly tied his arms behind his back. Leaned over, nibbling at his ears. Whispered incoherent things to him.\n\nThings about violence, of love and sex, death. Emmanuel whinnied and slapped his nuts against the floor, fucking his cock against it as the coyote filled his ass. Delirious. He copulated, wildly, almost ferally. He squirted his pleasure onto the cold stone floor as the coyote above him crammed and stuffed and knotted in his butt, shooting his own seed deep. He slumped, limp, his arms tied behind him, no struggle left in him as the coyote slid down, resting warm and heavy along his back.\n\n“So. Would you rather bleed or suffocate?” the coyote asked, his breath warm in the horse’s ear. Emmanuel’s ear twitched, and he turned his head, smiling shyly up to the handsome predator above him.\n\n“I guess.. whichever way it happens, it happens.” He clenched, milking the coyote’s cock. “Man that felt good. You’re really good at that whole fucking thing. So powerful. Like a machine. Like you’re trying to kill me with your dick, or something.” he stretched out.\n\n“Well, you’re a tight fuck. I can think of something, though, something you probably haven’t done before, that’ll make what we just did seem like finger-painting.\n\n“Oh, yeah? What’s that.” The horse rumbled contentedly as the coyote pushed himself up, his paws working along those shoulders, slowly sliding closer together.\n\n“You ever tried breath play?”\n\n“Naw. What’s that?”\n\n“Well.. you get fucked... and while you’re getting slammed, you let the guy kinda throttle you.” Those paws slid further up, curling coiling around the horse’s sleek throat, stroking it gently.\n\n“Oh?” The horse lifted his chin up. “Sounds exciting. Sounds dangerous.”\n\nThe coyote grinned that famous grin, his fingers clenching. “It is. You gotta know when to let go.” He grasped the horse’s throat, then, in his palms, fingers squeezing tightly along either slender side of it, and he started grinding into that hot horse butt once more.\n\nEmmanuel had never been choked before, and he instinctively tried to pull the coyote’s paws from his throat. His own were tied behind his back, though. So he couldn’t. He tried to breath, but couldn’t. His vision swam, black stars followed by colorful purple and green sparkles swimming and exploding across his vision. his cock was Rock hard, though, and the slimy concrete floor rubbed against the raw thick flesh. He tried to grunt out as that thick knot popped out of his ass, his tender sphincter ripped open with the raw heat of the thick bulbs. This was intense! Then popped back in.\n\nHe kicked his legs, hooves clattering against the floor, as he felt the coyote’s breath against his inner ear, fingers clenching tighter around his throat.\n\n“The trick, you know, is to time it.. so that you jizz, RIGHT when they die...”\n\nEmmanuel’s bloodshot eyes bulged, his tongue swollen between his thick lips. He gurgled, and as his body rictussed in one final, valiant struggle against the impending darkness, he felt his thick hose splattering his last warm horse goop onto the floor beneath him. \n\nBix laid on top of Emmanuel, for a long time, panting and sweating. “Damn. I was right. That was even better than the first fuck.” He kisses between those long ears, now limp, the body still. Pulled out with a wet shlorp, from the quiet body of the horse, and stood up.\n\nBix was in his element, there, standing in the abandoned storage room of the industrial factory. The horse prone at his feet, and the single dim light from the rave shining over his lean, rangy coyote frame. His cock hung from his groin, swollen and puffy, slick with horse sex. He scratched at his chin, his chest, and started pulling up his pants. Headed towards the door, before turning back to the dead stallion.\n\n“You know, Frederick was right. Look at you. I’m done with you, and there you are, in a puddle of your own juices.” the coyote chuckled. “Frederick, oh, Frederick. One last little Indian to go.”\n\nChapter One : Sharing is Caring\n\nOut on the roof, Frederick leaned over the edge of the building, staring out over the parking lot below. It was still a beautiful night. There were people streaming out of the rave, now, almost running, to their cars. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, only that it sounded urgent. He felt around in his pockets for that last bit of grass that Bix had gave him, shuddering against the cold night as he did. Where was everyone, anyways. He hadn’t seen Alex since they got here, and Chubs had gone out to puke and hadn’t come back. He hoped the fattie hadn’t rolled down a hill again.\n\nHe slid along the side of the roof, towards a bright glow. Off in one alleyway, some of the ravers had made a bonfire, and the warm, orange flickering glow could be felt all the way on the roof. He held out his paws, feeling the heat currents sliding between his fingers, like rising water. \n\n“Hello, Frederick.”\n\nThe voice was close behind him, Very close, and the otter felt the hairs prickle along the back of his neck. “Hello, Bix.” He finished rolling his joint, watching as the crowd of ravers down by the fire were approached by another, and then all of them took off running. Why was everyone leaving?\n\n“Did you find your friend?”\n\n“Nope.” He felt around in his pocket, feeling for his light. There was a growing tension in the air, emphasized by the growing, swelling wail of sirens. He could see the buildings flickering a few blocks down, red and lights flashing along their faces. “Someone must have oh-dee’d.”\n\n“Probably. Looking for this?”\n\nFrederick turned around, the coyote RIGHT there in front of him. It made the otter crane back instinctive. naked torso pulling away, hips thrusting forward to keep his balance. The coyote was smiling, holding a paw towards him.\n\nFrederick was reluctant to look away from that grinning face, those steady, intense yellow eyes. but he did, and his own eyes widened. “Oh! My Zippo! Thanks man, you get this from Brion?” \n\nBix nodded, smiling and watching as the otter lit up his joint, his shoulders relaxing as the green smoke streamed from his eyes. \n\n“Sorry I been so weird towards you, man, I guess I’m just a little high strung tonight. I found out, like, RIGHT before we left, that my brother and his friends never came back from camping. I’m just a little worried about him.”\n\nBix nodded, as Frederick re-pocketed his Zippo. Another puff on the joint, as Bix patiently waited for... something. \n\n“I mean, I am sure they’re fine. They’re all on the lacrosse team, you know? Big burly guys. If someone tried to fuck with them, they’d get split in half. Horny guys.” The otter tittered, the weed striking deep into his brain, making him high. “This is gonna sound ridiculous but...” He laughed. “I thought for sure when we saw you on the side of the road, that you had, like, killed Graham and those guys. I thought you’d like, put them in the trunk.” He shrugged, as Bix smiled wider.\n\n“How’d you know?”\n\n“Hmm?” The question took the otter off guard, and he took another puff on the joint - which was by now a roach. He peered down at it dubiously, then offered the last of it to Bix. “Oh, sorry, I guess since we’re friends now I should probably share.. you want?”\n\n“Naw. I got something much better than weed.” Frederick turned his head, as the coyote reached into his jacked, pulling something out from behind his waistband. He pulled it out into the open, and Frederick stared at it, dully. And then, realizing, suddenly,he stared up at Bix, his eyes wide with fear.\n\n“D-d-dude, y-you, th-that’s...” He started sliding away from Bix, towards the other side of the roof, and Bix held the shiny, silvery blade up to the moonlight.\n\n“This is what I used to kill your cheetah friend with. And your fox friend.” He looked upwards, as if counting something, and then barked that peculiar coyote laugh. “And about thirty other people. Probably about time for a new blade, huh?” He stepped after the otter, who, at the movement, Bolted towards the staircase in the middle of the rooftop.\n\nThere was a pair of collies laying down, just to the right of the doorway. Frederick had heard them murmuring and seen the one on top’s hips thrusting when he came out the door. Now he saw, in the dim light cast by the incandescent bulb, that they were not moving. \n\n“Oh, oh god,” he swore, hearing the footsteps approaching behind him. They were dead, definitely. The one on top’s head had been twisted all the way around, and his pink tongue hung out over his shoulder. The one below’s mouth was open, as was the second mouth, just below, a garish split flesh under his jaw. There was a thick puddle of blood, spread out beneath them. He was stepping in it.. He saw Bix approaching, and slammed himself into the door to the building proper. It opened outwards. He scrabbled, but the door handle was missing. \n\n“Looking for this?” He turned, feeling the sudden double stab, the thick round spears of the handle being jammed painfully into his sleek smooth belly. He grunted, the air whooshing out of him, paws gripping the handle. He staggered backwards, and Bix let him, releasing the aluminum door handle that jutted from his abdomen. “Lost the screws, sorry. Guess we’ll have to find another way down. I can think of ONE way down, but I think I’ll let you have first honors.” \n\nFrederick scrambled from the madman, running, each step twisting the twin spears buried between his intestines, like some giant, comical stapler. He ducked behind a large propane tank, gasping for breath. He needed help. His cellphone! The police were here, he could see the lights reflecting off of the buildings to either side. He could call them - SHIT! He had left his phone in his pants, downstairs. Maybe... maybe the collies would have one! He tried to steady his breath, listening. \n\nNothing. He peered underneath the tank, and saw only plain expanse of roof. \n\n“Hey.” He looked up. And the knife came down.\n\nIf he hadn’t been so stoned, it would have been easy to dodge the coyote’s dropped knife. As it were, he zigged instead of zagged, and it was half a second to late. The twisting head was not able to avoid the tip of the blade, which stuffed itself into one eye, the soft gelatin unable to avoid the piercing thrust. The twisting head sent the knife rotating, in mid swing, so that instead of spearing through an into the brain, it merely sliced through the eyeball, before flicking a scoop of the jelly outwards, like a catapult. \n\nFrederick couldn’t think about the pain he was going in, his severed nerve demanded that he roll on the ground, scream, to succumb, but he knew that was death. He jumped up, and blindly grabbed the knife, running away from the coyote perched on top of the propane tank. Bix slid down, following as the half-blinded otter staggered, bleeding away from him. The collies’ cell phones were forgotten, as he staggered back to the flickering light at the side of the building. He couldn’t think, couldn’t see, but he leaned over and waved his arms.\n\n“Heeeey! HEEEY! He’s up here! Heeeeeeelp! He’s going to kill me!”\n\nHe felt paws wrap around his throat, and he was pulled back from the edge of the building. Hacking, wheezing, he felt himself being shaken, shook like a dry tree limb in a winter gust. He felt ... stuff drooling down from the punctured eye, over his cheek. He swing with the knife, swinging blindly behind him, hearing an oof and feeling his wrist thumping against belly fur.\n\n“G..gotcha..” He muttered smugly, and then there was a hot breath in his ear.\n\n“Next time you want to stab someone, make sure your blade’s pointing TOWARDS them.” He felt his wrist grabbed, and then more pain, as it was twisted up, and dragged into his back. The blade punctured, through his back, and he groaned. He felt his wrist pulled from left to right, but he couldn’t let it go. It was like his fingers were super-glued to the hilt. He cut through his own back in a fluid motion, shuddering as he felt his legs go numb.\n\n“Please...don’t do this...please....” He cried. Well, half-cried, half drooled. His legs gave out under him, and those paws wrapped back around his throat. Grabbed him, and even while choking, he saw the side of the roof’s protective barrier come up to greet him.\n\nPop.\n\n“I think someone said that the killer was on the roof,” the Labrador reported, to the gruff, burly chested wolverine sergeant. Around them, paramedics were dragging sketchers into the ambulance. Some of them had the faces covered, some did not. A large green snake shouted profanities as he was handcuffed, and leg to a large van, already preoccupied with a bevy of slender, young, soft-furred rodent types. Drug dealers all of them. A polecat was berating a lieutenant, demanding to know his name and rank, as ‘his’ pit-bulls were attended to by clinical psychologists. It was mayhem.\n\n“Well get someone up there. That’s as likely of a place as any-” FLASH! “-Jesus Christ, no paparazzi, asshole, get the hell out of here!”\n\nThe paparazzi, a tall, militant looking dingo in a blue uniform with two silver words written across the chest, nodded to the sergeant. “Just stocking up, sir.” Then, to the Labrador, “Say cheese!” The lieutenant did a quick, chest-puffing, dopey-grinned salute for the camera man, and the dingo sauntered off. \n\nSargent Kane scowled at the retreating cameraman. “Quik-Pik, what the hell is that, a magazine? Sounds like a lottery.” He looked at the still grinning Labrador. “You think a dozen corpses is funny? Get up to that roof!” \n\nBefore the Lab could, though, there was a scream from some of the people around. Pointing fingers led the way - there was a man falling from the roof. It was impossible to tell what species, but a leathery hat flew from his head, and in his paw, glinting savagely, could be seen a bloodied knife. He fell directly into the heart of the bonfire, burning sticks and coals shooting out in every directions.\n\n\t“GET THAT FIRE OUT!!! NOW!!” \n\n\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t\n\nIt took fifteen minutes to put the flames out entirely, and at that point it was far too late for the male who had fallen in. There was not much left of him. Death, the autopsy indicated, had been instantaneous, as his head had crushed like an egg in the impact. His teeth shattered, his fur and muscle burned off, there was no way to identify him. Even his marrow had been boiled in the bones.\n\nThe only clue to his identity was his hat, which had landed beside the fire, and the knife, a standard issue Bowie knife. It could be traced to at least ten of the deaths and injuries involved in the rave. And at least twenty more deaths through out the tri-state area. It seemed that the rave was the last stop for the serial killer, who had never really been given a name.\n\n\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t\n\n\tLeo and Marcus couldn’t figure out why it had happened. Out of all the cars in the parking lot, why had THEIRS been the one that had had it’s tires slashed? One beef-kitty leaned against the other, waiting for the repair man to come. The parking lot was mostly empty; the ambulances, ravers, and police were gone. There were a few cars and trucks left, of course, and it made Leo shudder.\n\n\t“Oh, Marcus, some of these cars... belonged to dead people.”\n\n\t “Don’t think like that, Leo. It’s not going to make you feel better.”\n\n\t “Oh, I know, it’s just so sad.”\n\n\t “You kitties okay?”\n\n\tThey turned to the sound of the third voice. It was a coyote, standing next to a large, unmarked white van, his paw opening the driver’s side door. Leo felt his pouch bulge as he remembered back to the beginning of the night, when they had passed the van, rocking violently back and forth.\n\n\t“Oh, hi.” He purred, and the two lions walked closer. “Someone slashed the tires of our cars, and it looks like the tow truck guy got lost. Do you think you could take us to a hotel?”\n\n\t The coyote smiled.\n\n\t “Yeah, I think we can arrange something. Hop in.”\n\n",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "Six little raver boys, going for a ride. Stop to grab a hitchhiker and then there were five.
Five little raver boys, drinking up a storm. One steps out for a smoke and then there were four.
Four little raver boys, dancing full of glee. One feels a little sick and then there were three.
Three little raver boys, all without a clue. One takes a tinkle, and then there were two.
Two little raver boys, having lots of fun. One hooks up with a ‘yote, and then there was one.
One little raver boy, the game was almost done. Didn’t want to share with Bix, and now there are none.
Chapter Ten, Nine, Eight, and Seven - Hitch hikers
One regular, average, totally inconspicuous Friday night, an unmarked white van swung down Route 56. The moon shone brightly over head, the highway gleaming gray and silver beneath. The van was swerving back and forth from one side of the road to the other. There were no windows in the back, so it was hard to see what was going on, exactly, but if the van swished past someone standing on the side of the road, they would hear the dumph Dumph Dumph dumph of the music bouncing around inside, and would smell the burnt leafy smell of weed and poorly maintained transmission in it’s wake.
The driver of said vehicle, a certain Brion Scalesworth, bobbed his head to the sound of Lazy Town. The rest of his body remained mostly still, which wasn’t too surprising, considering how cramped the big, powerful lizard’s body looked, folded and curled over the wheel. The van jostled, laughing coming from the back as the thump of one body or another slammed against the side of the van. He heard a precarious cracking sound, plastic or something like that. A glance into the rear view mirror showed two large figures, swaying back and forth, arms locked around each others' shoulders.
“Faggots,” he mumbled under his breath. “Chubs, calm them down will ya?” As if in response, another loud bang sent the van tottering over the center line. The bulky, black and white form in the passenger seat twisted awkwardly, turning and sliding to face the back.
“Dudes! Remember, this is a RENTAL,” the panda called out. Another loud thump, and the loud GRRRRRRRRT of the wheels sliding over the grooved strips overrode his protests. “Dudes! Not cool! If we damage the car, it’s going on my insurance!”
“Whatever”, snorted one of the grappling forms in the middle seat. “Darwin’s gotta beg for mercy, first!” There was a masculine Grunt, as the more muscular of the two bent the huskier of the two onto his back.
Chubs frowned at the macho displays, about to protest. Then again, the horse and the fox were Always wrestling like this, and it was... kind of stimulating, watching the beefy pony and the strong, chubby vulpine grinding against each other. Especially when the fox cheated.
That soft knee came up, between Emmanuel’s thighs, and with a grunt, the horse flopped backwards. Darwin curled up and immediately wrapped one arm around the bodybuilder’s neck, putting him in a choke hold.
“Oh yeah, who’s gonna say uncle now? Huh? Say it! Say it!” Darwin gloated over the horse, using his weight to push the horse down, bending him backwards in an uncomfortable looking angle. The pony, who was wearing naught but a wife beater and a pair of gray sweat pants, flailed at the air with his one free arm, but he could not dislodge the fox. Chubs’ lower jaw dropped open, for as he had been bent into that position, the horse’s sweats had ridden down, and now his folded up legs pushed the weight of a well stuffed black jock pouch towards the voyeur.
He was about to reach out, to give the horse a grope - after all, it’s not like Emmanuel could really protest, when the gator driving the rental van spoke up.
“Hey, dudes... is that Graham's Cadillac?”
Chubs, Emmanuel, Darwin, and indeed, the two others in the back seat of the van all peered through the windshield. True enough, there was a pale silver Cadillac, mid seventies, pulled over on the side of the road with it’s blinkers flashing. There was a figure standing near the front, a thumb sticking out.
“Yeah, that’s Graham's car!” said the fox, leaning forward with one brown furred forearm on either seat. Chubs grimaced at the smell leaking out of the fox’s t-shirt. Musky was an understatement. “But that’s NOT Graham! Pull over!”
The others murmured, and the white van pulled over in front of the Cadillac The hitchhiker moseyed on over, and as the side door of the van opened, he stopped.
Out poured the contents of the van. Six twenty something year old males, all sweaty and wide (and red-tinged) eyed, with curious looks on their muzzles.
The hitchhiker pulled off his worn looking leather hat, revealing himself to be a red wolf, or perhaps a coyote. “Evenin’, folks. You heading towards Los Lobos?”
“Yeah!” said the gator, stepping forward, taking charge. He was a Big dude, hugely built, like a power lifter. On top of the muscle, there was fat, so that his naked torso’s scales glittered under the pale milky moonlight, light gray and black. “We are... there’s a party we’re going to.” He glanced to the Cadillac, suspicion evident on his muzzle. “That your car? It’s nice!”
The hitchhiker raised an eyebrow. Canted his head slightly, as if trying to understand a foreign language. Finally, he turned, glancing at the car, then back to the gator. “What, that one? Oh, no. I was driving by, and saw this pulled over on the side of the road. There were four fellas standing beside it -”
An excited murmur broke out behind the gator, and the coyote’s ears flicked forward, catching some of the whispers.
‘Must have been Graham and Ike!’ ‘Yeah, and Jason too, and he probably brought his brother Howie.’ ‘I told him to get his oil changed, dufus!’
Brion interrupted them with a clearing of his throat. “So where’s your car, now? and where are they?” the Cadillac's hood was propped, and the windows were rolled down. There didn’t seem to be anyone sitting in the car.
“Oh, well, they said they were going to a rave or something, over in the warehouse district... I was actually heading towards it myself, so, I said they could use my car.”
Brion was incredulous. “You just gave them your car? And stayed here with theirs? That doesn’t seem likely.”
The hitchhiker smiled. “Well, I guess I’m kind of old fashioned.” His smile widened, full of gleaming teeth. “I just have an old beat up Honda civic. This car here’s probably worth a lot more. But mine worked, and they seemed in more of a hurry than I. I told them to take my car there, and I’d just get this one running again and catch up with them there.”
“Dude, that’s totally cool of you!” Emmanuel said. The horse was a good bit taller than the gator, his muscle shirt doing a poor job of hiding the round, meaty, beefy pecs underneath. The horse’s shoulders and arms were broad slopes of curving muscle. Not that huge, tight puffy kind of muscle, but the softer, stronger kind, the kind that showed that the pony wasn’t just in it for looks. The coyote nodded appreciatively, looking the horse up and down, pausing at the white jockstraps emerging from the horse’s sweats. A full three inches of lean belly and Adonis belt separated those sweats from the hem of the muscle shift, and those jock straps gripped around the horse’s hips, almost desperately, as if a great weight threatened to pull them back under those loose sweats. “Graham NEVER gets his oil changed, I’m ALWAYS telling that stupid dog to get it looked at, or Something!” He laughed.
Brion didn’t seem so convinced. “So they just gave you the keys to their car?”
“Well, yeah.” the coyote reached into his jacket pocket, idly pulling the two flaps back, showing off his own lean, trim musculature. Not sculpted in any means, the coyote just had that rangey, ‘hungry’ look that comes from those that travel a lot. Brion heard a purr from behind him, and rolled his eyes.
“Alex. Please. At least wait until we’re at the rave before you start hooking up,” the gator murmured, elbowing backwards and getting a satisfying oof as he thumped the short, slender feline in the ribs.
“But he’s delicious looking...”
The coyote had pulled out a familiar looking set of keys, a couple of car keys, house keys, and a blue squishy pompom that made everyone chuckle with relief. Those were Graham's keys, all right, and it’s not like Graham would just give them to some random coyote unless he trusted them!
Brion smiled, finally, his paranoia quelled. “Well, that was awful nice of you to offer to fix their car for them.” He started to walk towards the Cadillac. “did you get it all fixed up?”
“Naw, I couldn’t,” the coyote said, stepping aside. Stepping slightly towards the others as the gator leaned over the heavy metal hood, propped up with a single, bent and rusty metal prong. “It’s the serpentine belt. Snapped in half, it’s not something I can fix.” He pulled a tightly coiled rubber ball from his other paw. “I got it here. Was hoping to get a ride into town, so I could replace it for them. It’s not that hard to do.”
Brion, apparently didn’t know much about cars. The gator nodded, studying the engine gravely, then unhooked the metal prong and slammed the hood down with a CLANG. There was a soft, squishy sound, like the splatter of liquid from somewhere under the engine block.
Brion walked back to the coyote, holding out his paw. “I’m Brion. Why don’t you come with us to the party? You can chill, and get your car back, and we can take care of that belt thingie tomorrow morning, after we’re done having our fun.”
The coyote shook the gator’s paw, his own warm, if a little sticky. “Nice to meet you, Brion, I’m Bix. And I’d be much obliged.”
“No problem. Let’s see, this stud here is Emmanuel,” the burly pony stuck out his chest, crushing the slender coyote’s paw in his own. “The fat panda is Chubs... err... Corey. Tall skinny otter dude is Frederick, the cat twinkie is Alex, and the fox is Darwin.” Hands were shaken, packages checked out, and more than one paw gave the coyote’s ass a squeeze as the six horny raver boys hounded their new friend into the van.
The white van peeled out, leaving a little cloud of smoke and dust in it’s wake. And one, seemingly abandoned car. The blinkers went on and off, on and off, except for the two in the back. They had been shorted out. And underneath the trunk of that car, drooling over the license plate, and pooling slowly on ground,was a thick, red blood. A thump came from the back, one last attempt to escape, before Graham, the plucky dalmatian and owner of the car, finally gave up. It’s hard to wiggle out of a locked trunk, after all, especially when the bodies of three of your best friends were on top of you. Especially when they were still bleeding. Especially when the blood had pooled over your head, and you couldn’t breath any more. At this point, as the van peeled away, Graham decided he would take a little nap... just close his eyes, for he was so tired. When he woke up, he would try to get loose again.
Chapter Six - The inside of a Twinkie
The inside of the van was a little quiet, at first. It was if the camaraderie in the beginning of the trip had been... dissipated by the arrival of the coyote. He was a little older than the other boys, that was for sure. Not one of them were over twenty five, but he was closer to forty than thirty. He seemed awful mellow though, and though he was ten years older than them, he still seemed to fit in.
“Smells like weed in here,” He commented, glancing conspiratorially back and forth between the otter and the cheetah. Alex smiled brightly up to the coyote, whiskers curling forward.
“Yeah it does, doesn’t it? That’s cuz we were smoking it.” He leaned into the coyote, slipping a paw under that open jacket and stroking the lean, rangy chest there. He felt the coyote gasp, chest tightening with the captured breath, before an arm lazily curled around his shoulders. “Oh, you’re warm...”
Emmanuel peered back, from the middle seat, frowning. He glared at the cheetah, jealousy pulling his lips down tighter than they would normally be. The otter to Bix’s right coughed, a bit.
“Dude. Not cool.”
“What? We were.. he can probably smell it on us. Can you?” Alex smiled back to Emmanuel, and then pulled away from the coyote, curling himself in the corner. “Can you smell any weed on me?”
“He could be a NARC, Alex!” Frederick whispered, though the coyote was sitting between them.
Bix glanced from the cheetah, to the otter. “And if I were a Narc, would I he holding... this?” He pulled a bag from inside his jacket, and tossed it to the otter, who snatched it out of mid air.
Frederick unraveled the bag, snuffled at it. “Whoa. Hey man, this stuff smells just like mine.” He laughed, “We must have the same dealer.” He canted his head to the side. “Scrawny rabbit dude, named Jason? He’s supposed to be at the party.”
The coyote nodded, his paw sliding to stroke under the lithe little cheetah’s tight mesh tee shirt. Up and down, as the sinuous feline purred rapturously, over the top, one foot pushing out of it’s Croc and unsubtly working it’s way into the coyote’s crotch. “Yup, that sounds like him.” He handed out his paw, for the weed back, but Frederick grinned to the coyote.
“Uh uh. Dude, we’re giving you a free ride to the party. I’m out. This is your payment.” Even as he explained to Bix how things work, around here, the lanky otter was rolling himself a fattie. The slender fingers tucked, rolled, twisted, and a slick pink otter tongue wetted it. The lighter flicked open, and after a few seconds’ draw, greenish gray smoke fluffed out into the van.
Bix’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realize those were the terms of the arrangement.” He held out his paw a bit longer, but realizing finally that the otter was not going to give his weed back, he turned his attention back to the cheetah, who was giggling and grinding at his crotch. “You like that, huh?” He turned his back on the otter, who puffed at his stolen joint again.
Alex most certainly Did like it. The cheetah, Bix found out, was actually rather tightly, lightly muscled. A paw found six pronounced ridges under that mesh shirt, stroking against them with slow, experienced eagerness. His wrist sometimes brushed against the rather jutting bulge in the feline’s shorts. A dip underneath, and up the leg of those shorts, and Bix ts-tsked at the squirming feline.
“Someone forgot to wear underwear tonight.”
“I didn’t forget,” Alex replied, his fingers busy at the coyote’s jeans. button undone, and then the zipper, as the older, experienced knotter worked to peel off his shirt. He pulled the mesh up, and Alex had to lift his arms to let it be stripped entirely off. “I didn’t think I’d need them. Easier access that way.”
“I see,” replied Bix, smiling as he twisted the shirt a few times, before he pulled it entirely off of the cheetah’s slender arms. His paws jutted from the mass of knotted mesh, and Alex purred ferociously, his shorts bulge darkening with sudden pre-cum. “My my, you are a trampy little slut aren’t you...”
“Yes, sir, I am,” the cheetah wriggled, ‘trapped’ by his own shirt, as Bix lifted his arms up and hooked the shirt-knot over the dry-cleaner hanger over the seat.
The joint was passed to the middle seat, as the coyote slowly pulled those tight little bootie shorts down. Alex’s erection boinged out into the open, already tightly erect, a cute five inches of feline pride. Those shorts were pulled down to just his ankles, and then the coyote knelt on them.
“Now you’re trapped. And all mine,” The coyote growled, and Frederick banged on the side of the fan.
“DING DING!” He crowed. “Alex’s bagged his first cock!”
Emmanuel turned again, glowering, then folded his beefcake arms and faced front.
“I told you to wait until we got to the rave, Alex! You’re such a skank!” The gator grumbled.
“Well technically,” the panda replied, “We’re pretty much there.. that’s the drive way now.”
The occupants could hear the music playing from the car, vibrating the metal walls, the plastic trim. The gravel crunched under foot as it pulled in, and the doors swung and slid open, the ravers all hopping out onto the night air, again.
Except for Alex and Bix. They were preoccupied. AT this point, Bix was letting the cheetah squirm and mew deliciously as he toyed with that feline cock with his left paw. The other was undoing his pants, and working at his own stiffy.
“Come on, guys,” Emmanuel said, peering at them from outside. “We’re all going in. Don’t you have to get your keys from Graham?”
Bix paused, then turned to the horse. Standing, his red shaft drooping out and over his fat nuts, he moved to stand at the door. Smiling to the horse, he leaned out, giving him a lick up one cheek.
“There’s plenty of Bix to go around, pony. Why don’t you and your friends go in and have some fun. Me and Alex are are going to have some fun... and then I’ll come hunt you down.” He winked, and that white door slid shut. And locked. Emmanuel snorted, feeling his jock tighten around his bulging sheath. Something about that coyote just Did it for him.
He turned, and followed the other dudes into the rave.
The inside of the van was dark, now. Silent, too. Mostly. Occasionally some chattering couple walked by, but nobody knew that the two males were in it. The doors locked, the cheetah tied up.
Alex could feel his heartbeat racing as in the darkness, the coyote’s form came back to him. He could feel the seat underneath him shift as weight laid on it. He felt his ankles lifted, and hooked onto the other clothes-hanger hook, suspending him in the air. The coyote pushed up between the cheetah’s legs, and a hot slippery heat pushed against his asshole.
“Oh, fuck, you’re soooo big,” the cheetah purred, slowly working to push himself down on that hot dick. He had to kind of squat, bending his legs outwards, but he was determined to get fucked tonight, and even if it was a little clumsy, he was gonna do it. “You gonna put it in me?”
It already was in him. Not all of it, mind you, but enough to make his guts tingle. He heard a sound, in the darkness, something like metal sliding against wood. A sort of “shrrrsh” sound.
“I sure am,” was the reply, and he felt the sudden, hot, violent thrust of the coyote’s hips into his rump, that bulging knot slapping his ass.
“Ooooh, Shiiiit!” The cheetah moaned out, clenching down. He was by no means loose, but the suddenness of it, the abrupt Thrust, the powerful shudder that coursed through him in response. All in the Dark. It was making him giddy. “Yeah! Deeper! Harder!”
A claw tickled along his taut, squirming twink-belly, tracing up and down between the abs there. That thick cock pulled back, and he could hear the mirth in the coyote’s voice.
“You want all of it?” Sawing back in, again, the claw pressing against his belly harder.
“Oh, yes! Yes, Give it to me! All of it! Hard as you can!”
“Well...” It sawed out, pushed back in. “If you insist.” And that claw, against his belly, which wasn’t really a claw at all, pushed in. It was actually much, much bigger than a claw. Sharper. And made of metal. The coyote’s bowie knife plunged into the cheetah’s belly at his left side, and he yowled!! As that blade was yanked, roughly, across his guts from left to right.
Leo and Marcus held hands as they walked through the parking lot. It was a beautiful moonlit night. The two lions, one yellow, one black, were shoulder to shoulder, and heavily in love. They paused as they passed by a white van, which was rocking violently back and forth.
Leo giggled, blushing, and Marcus’ jaw dropped. They could hear the wet slapping sounds inside, and what sounded like a cat being murdered. Yowling, pleading, crying sounds, and underneath it, the almost maniacal, breathless sounds of an older man.
“Oh gods, it hurts!”
\t “You begged for it, slut, now take it!”
“Stop, Please! Nooooo!”
\t “Not until I’ve drained you dry!”
“It burns and stings!!”
Marcus coughed, and tugged at Leo’s arm, the two continuing their walk. Both now had pronounced bulges down the inside seams of their pants.
“Wow, some people like it rough.” Leo commented, rubbing himself absentmindedly.
“Yeah. Maybe we’ll run into him later, huh?” Marcus replied, giving Leo a grope, laughing.
“Oh, yeah, well the top.” he snickered, “It doesn’t sound like there will be much of the bottom.”
Truth be told, there wasn’t a lot left of Alex already. He had been eviscerated, but curled up as he was, there wasn’t anywhere for his intestines to go. Until that knife punched through his back, thrusting up as the coyote thrust in. Ripping him a ‘pour spout’ for the thick slithering organs to drool out. The van’s cheap pleather seats were ruined. At least in the back. He struggled of course, but the way he was hooked up, there wasn’t any way to get loose, short of ripping the van in half. Each time he swung, the van swung too, the shocks absorbing the struggle. The knife stabbed into his guts again, just under his rib cage.
“Oh god, please. I don’t.. “ the cheetah coughed iron into his mouth, and talked through it, with blood bubbling from his lips. “..want to die...”
“And?” the coyote countered, stabbing him again. Through the ribs, twisting the pommel of his bowie knife, to puncture the cheetah’s lung. There was a gurgle as the air inside squeezed out, between the blade and the bones. “How does that affect me?”
Alex felt tired, his head lolling back against the metal wall of the van. “Please....” he begged, weakly, the life draining from him. His insides burned as the air rushed in to replace what used to be there, and he felt that knife stab into his other lung. Felt it deflate. He tried to breath in, and coughed, choked. Only it wasn’t coming out of his mouth. It was shuddering and spraying from his torso. Splattering his face.
When the knife pressed to his chest a third time, and pushed in... he felt it. Spearing into his soft, tender heart, spearing through it. Just like that cock had speared into his ass. He was cold now, that raging dick inside him clenching, twitching, as he felt something pop inside his chest. And then Alex was no more.
“Damn it.” The coyote looked down at the cheetah’s ass. “You were a good fuck, I’ll give you that much.” Too good. He hadn’t meant to knot the slut. He tugged back, pulling at the cheetah’s ass, his slimy jizz squishing around in the corpse’s intestines. “Ugh.” That bowie knife did have it’s uses, at least. He brought it down, spearing it into the cheetah’s boney right rump cheek.
Chapter Five - Smoking Kills
The rave was packed. Old industrial districts were the perfect place to find an abandoned building, fix a few things, and then host a loud, obnoxious, illegal party. Everyone who was everyone was there. Except Graham and his buddies, apparently.
At the front of the bar, as the many many studly and sexy males waited in line to pay their dues and get in, advertisers plied their wares. At a table, with the three part folding bulletin board behind, a rather portly lion was showing off ‘the newest psych-o-lectrical craze since TRON’ to a group of tight muscled, thuggish looking inner city youth. They had gone ‘tribal’, and were decked out in an assortment of mismatching tribal gear. Teeth fetishes, gaudy faux gold necklace fedoras, and crudely pointed spears. But also, sneakers, iBud ear pods, and at least one polyester thong. Even as the other three looked on skeptically, two of the dudes, big burly looking pit-bulls, were fitting the futuristic metal visors over their glowery muzzles. A click, a buzz, and their hands splayed out, before settling by their sides. A big bear snickered, nudging a smaller feather-headdressed feline in the chest. “Dude, they’re boning.” And they were.
Inside the main building, Darwin and Emmanuel, Chubs and Brion, and Frederick, were pre-gaming. It was a ‘cool down’ area, a place to drop off coats (or shoes, or any clothes in general), so there was a steady stream of people coming in. The bouncers were checking IDs, and turning away those that looked like a freak. Occasionally, Darwin would look over to the bouncer, wistfully.
“Dude! Head in the game!” Emmanuel cackled, swinging his beer and splashing it down the front of the foxes shirt. The thick flannel deflected most of it, and it ran down over the fox’s beer gut, splashing into his worn, soft looking jeans.
“Dude! Faggot!” he laughed, and splashed the horse back with his own. Emmanuel puffed out his chest, making sure to get it splashed as much as possible, so that the shirt clung to his beefy frame. He grinned, and gestured, getting all five a refill. They clinked, and downed their beers, chugging the heady brown brews until only suds remained. Five cheap plastic cups clicked against the wooden plywood bar, and they waited for another drink fill.
Brion glanced to the door again. “I’m surprised Graham isn’t here yet. I wish I had asked Bix what his car looked like. Maybe they’re already here.”
Five glasses were raised, clinked, and emptied.
“So what, maybe they decided to go for a joy ride. Maybe they’re already in there. Maybe they had to get gas.” Frederick snickered. “The coyote doesn’t look all that well off. Did you see that hat? It was like what they wore back in the forties.”
The horse shrugged. “Or maybe they’re Dead, Brion. Maybe Bix killed them all and hid them all in the trunk.”
Darwin punched Emmanuel in the shoulder. “Not cool, dude. Graham can hold his own in the fight. Remember that time he beat the hell out of that... what was he, anyways, some kind of furry dragon? God, he was like, UN-recognizable by the time he was done with him.”
The otter and the horse laughed. “True, true. Dude deserved it though. He -did- eat Graham's cupcake.” the horse said. “What ever happened with that guy, anyways?”
“I remember that guy. You’ll never believe what happened. Weird thing, somehow the ambulance got into an accident and he wound up getting thrown into one of those tree mulchers, you know the kind they use for downed branches? Apparently he went in feet first... and it got stuck on his neck.” the panda commented, gravely. “All that was left, was his head. and he was STILL ALIVE!”
“Bullshit!” Brion laughed, and everyone else laughed too. “Nobody could survive that. Here’s to that furry dragon dude, whatever his name was.”
“Here’s to him!” the other four chorused.
Five glasses were raised, clinked, and emptied.
The five of them sat and talked for a while, before Brion started patting at his pockets. “Hey, Frederick, you got a light? I’m gonna go have a smoke.”
Frederick grumbled. “You know I hate letting people borrow my lighters. Just smoke one here. Nobody cares.”
Brion glared at the otter, who’s tall frame was stooped over his drink, almost protectively. “I light up here, and everyone else is going to want one. I only have five left. I Wanna make them last.”
Frederick rolled that around in his head, and Brion could see the otter trying to find a way to hold onto his prized Zippo. “Eh, doesn’t anyone have any matches?”
Darwin perked his ears forward, the fox coming out of his haze. “Oh, right! Yeah, I got some.” he fished around in his vest pocket, pulling out a pack of matches and tossing it to Brion. “There you go.”
“These are fucking Wet, Darwin.” the gator growled angrily. He slammed the plywood, enough to send the empty glasses flopping over on their sides. “Just gimme yer damn Zippo!”
Frederick sighed. “FINE!” He pulled it out, and flicked it through the air to the gator, who caught it.
“Hey, I’ll go with you,” the horse said. The two of them stood up. “I wanna go see how Alex and Bix are doing.”
“You mean you want a turn,” the panda replied sourly. He drank another cup of beer, his immense, soft white and black body nearly engulfing the old bar stool he was sitting on.
“What?” The horse sputtered, and cuffed the panda in the back of the head. “No way, I just wanna air out my shirt, get some fresh air.” He grinned tot he others, and then slapped the gator’s ass. The top heavy reptile and the beefpony strutted to the exit doors, stepping out side.
Into an alley way. Above them, rusty fire escapes forlornly watched over the two males, their ladders retracted up, as if waiting for some great flood.
Brion shook a smoke from his pack, and cupped his paws to light it. The Zippo, trusty as ever, sputtered to flame, and soon Brion was exhaling the pleasingly cool and refreshing cloud of Oldport Menthol into the night air.
“Man, it’s beautiful out.”
Emmanuel paced back and forth, glancing out to the parking lot. Biting at the bit, so to speak. “Yeah, guess so.”
“What’s your problem, you still got something for that cheetah?”
“Naw, man, it’s nothing like that. It’s that coyote. Something about him just, I dunno, makes my nuts tight.”
“Oh, yeah.” Puff, exhale. “Yeah something seems wrong about him, but I can’t place what. I’m going to keep my eye out on him. I think he may be homeless, which means he may be here just to steal drugs n money from people.”
“Wha? Oh, yeah I guess that’s possible. Did you see his ass though?” The horse snorted, loudly, grabbing his basket through his wet sweats. “I can’t wait to bury myself in it.”
“You’re crazy, man. He’s probably got Aids or herpes or chlamydia or dong-droppers disease.”
“Dong droppers?” the horse peered back, squinting. “Do I even wanna know?”
Brion smiled. “You haven’t heard of dong droppers? It’s like.. a virus... it only attacks the ... what are they.. the ligaments, you know... the stuff that holds your dick on. You don’t even know you have it, until one day, you’re walking down the street and your dick falls down the inside of your leg.” He snickers. “I imagine yours’d trail behind you like a piece of toilet paper though.”
Emmanuel turned and shook his head. “Yeah, and *I*’m the crazy one. Nothing could make my dick fall out, dude, us horses are built stronger than you reptiles. Enjoy your smoke, dude. I’m gonna check out the van and ask Bix what his car looks like.”
Brion watched that cute muscular bubble butt swagger out of the alley, puffing contentedly on his smoke. “You better be careful, Emmanuel, one of these days you’re gonna wind up in my bed, and I am gonna destroy you.” He smirked.
Something wet splatted on the ground behind him. He peeked over his shoulder. The alley way was between two of the large warehouses, and there wasn’t much light, but something wet and glistening was on the ground, underneath one of the fire escapes.
He padded over, cigarette hanging between his lips. It was about the size of a fist, and... wet. He crouched down, and touched it. It was fleshy. Like... like raw meat.
A loop of something fell in front of his eyes, a curling black U shape. He watched it, it was a loop, a coil... it went down to about his chest. It looked familiar...
It was a serpentine belt. He went to stand, lifting himself, but with a rattling rust CRASH, the fire escape’s ladder, just above his head, swung loose. Apparently, the belt was attached to it, for the loop swung up, noosing around his head and pulling tight. And then tighter. HE felt the weight of the ladder lift him up off of his feet, gurgling, swinging around. The belt was tight, but he was a lizard. A huge, powerful, stump-necked muscle-sheathed alligator. Whatever the hell this was, it made Brion very very angry. A dark shape swung down from the fire escape, landing nimbly beside him.
“Damn,” came the familiar voice, and Brion swung one powerful leg at the coyote. The coyote laughed, and flicked out with his knife. Brion’s calf slid over the blade, the thick scales protecting it from the knife. “What’s the matter, aren’t you happy to see me?”
Bix slashed at the next kick, but it too avoided his sharp blade’s caress. Still, the coyote seemed amused by the sight. The gator had to wear three hundred pounds, easy, a mixture of bone, muscle and fat. Mostly muscle, and fat. He was a powerful thing. But held up in the air by his neck, he could get no leverage. The coyote grinned.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He stooped, and picked up the red wet thing from the ground. “Well, seems only fair that you should have His.” The growled gurgling huffing sound of the strangling lizard inferred that he recognized the connection between the piece of flesh in the coyote’s paw, and the friend they had left in the van with him. He lashed out again, and this time Bix grabbed that leg, and began to dance, skipping to the right.
“Let’s play a game. It’s a fun game.” he kept dancing, moving with the gator’s kicks and thrusts, spinning spinning the gator around and around.
“Ring around the Rosie,” he sang, spinning. the serpentine belt, which was noose neatly around the gator’s neck, tightened. “A pocket full of posies.” Around and around, and he could feel his tongue bulging out of his mouth. Getting dizzy, dizzier as the serpentine belt slowly winched tighter around his neck. “Ashes, Ashes....” The gator stopped paying attention tot he coyote, he was scrabbling at his neck now, the thick stump winched cartoonishly thin, under his broad jaws. He gasped, gurgled as the coyote took his other leg, now limp.
“We all, Fall, DOWN!” And with that, Bix YANKED. and Brion fell.
He didn't’ get back up. The sky above was so clear, after all, the stars so bright. Only they were going out, one at a time. Getting darker. Bix grinned down over him, pulling the gator’s mouth open, and stuffing something inside it. As the last of the light left his eyes, he saw the coyote pulling his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Bastard.
Chapter Four - Feeling Fine
Emmanuel clopped through the parking lot, the cool air making his wet chest all the colder. His nipples were tight and hard, poking out through the taut muscle shirt, and he rubbed at one of them absentmindedly.
“Brion, you're a dumbass,” he said, thinking about the dong dropper disease. Or whatever it was called. It sounded like one of those things a perv doctor would tell his patient to get a chance to handle his goods. Everyone always wanted to handle your goods.
Emmanuel was used to being treated like meat. Most dudes he wound up going out with probably couldn’t tell you what kind of horse he was. They could probably tell you how long his dick was, though. And how thick. If they couldn’t, their ass could. He groped his jock again, as he got closer to the van. He had been expecting it to be rocking crazily. Alex had a way of bringing the wild side out of people. He listened to the side of it, but heard nothing. The back windows were tinted too darkly to see anything, especially at night. He humphed, and wandered to the driver’s side, knocking on the door. “Hey, guys?” He asked, pulling at the handle. Locked.
“Hey, I uh... I forgot my.... lube....” He trailed off, hoping someone would get the connection. “Mind letting me in? I’ll only take a second... or so.” He put some leering into the last two words. He rubbed himself some more, his cock having swollen out a good bit, the jock straining to hold both it and his fat ponyballs.
“Guys?” He leaned over the hood, peering in. The van was completely dark, and still.
“Shucks.”
He must have missed them. He walked back around the van, and towards the rave. The party was in full swing, now. Everyone who was coming, was in. He walked up, seeing someone talking with the bouncer out front. The bouncer was saying no, arms folded, the wolf looking serious.
“Oh, Hey, Bix!” The horse trotted up, and the coyote peered over, eyes wide, and paw moving to his belt. He was shirtless, his lean body heaving excitedly.
“This guy with you?” the wolf glowered. Ned was really a sweetheart, underneath, but he took bouncing seriously.
“Yeah, he’s with me and the gang. Where you been Bix? And you got Alex with you?”
“Alex? Oh, the cheetah? he’s... with Brion... they wanted to ... take a walk together.” the coyote stuttered, eyes wide.
“Oh, okay.” Emmanuel laughed, hugging the slender yote against his big burly form, his muscles warm and soft at the same time. “Don’t gotta be so nervous. Come on, everyone else is inside.”
Ned bit his tongue as the two furs slipped in, past his protective guide. There was something Wrong about that coyote, he could smell it on him. Something dirty and sick. But, this was a rave, not a presidential inauguration. Maybe it would be better to cut some slack. He leaned against the wall, arms folded, absentmindedly flexing his kegels. Gotta keep busy.
Emmanuel glanced over to the bar, which was now empty. “Guess everyone’s in there dancing. Did you bring any E, man? or X? Or K?”
Bix shook his head as they walked down the ‘service corridor’, towards the swelling pumping of music. “Naw. Just some grass, and your otter friend took it.”
“Oh, okay. Well if you want something, let me know, okay? I’ll take care of you,” the horse promised. They pushed through the flaps and into the foggy, trippy, skittering lights of the rave.
the horse shouted something to the coyote, but Bix couldn’t hear him, or didn’t care. The room was filled with furs. It was a huge industrial plant. Conveyor belts were carrying limp and squirming furs up to a chute that slide them down into a giant pit full of packing peanuts. Furs on angel wings hung from industrial cranes, being swung around by other furs in the cock pits. The music was playing, there were bubbles everywhere, and everywhere, Everywhere was the smell of sex.
The horse was pulling at the coyote, but he pulled back, and eventually the horse let go. He watched the burly prey animal get swallowed up in the crowd. He had other things to deal with. He moved through the crowd of swaying bodies, tripping and stoned and rolling furs staggering and tip toeing and arching. Nimble paws dipped into loose pockets. The knife flicked occasionally, pressing into the small of a back here, or through the side of an unconscious fur there. He felt giddy himself, as he was surrounded by witnesses, and yet nobody cared. He found himself a small corner, where a raccoon curled tightly in the ball huddled away from the light.
He crouched, touching the raccoon on the shoulder. “Hey buddy, you okay?” A commotion swelled over by the area he had just been, as a fur crumpled, the small slit in their spine totally hidden by their garish top made entirely out of flavored condoms and candy necklaces.
“They’re coming.. coming to get me.. and I can’t move!” the raccoon shuddered.
“I see... and who are coming to get me?”
“The cops... I’ve seen them... they hunt you down, and then they open their mouths wide, SO WIDE! And then they eat you!”
“That’s nonsense,” Bix replied, stroking the raccoon’s brow softly. “The vore cops are an urban myth, nothing more. Now, come here.... That’s right, come here...” he cuddled the raccoon close, holding the young male as he rode through his bad trip. Held him as he twitched and spasmed. Held him until the raccoon stopped struggling, going limp in his arms. “There we go... isn’t that better? Much better...” He pulled the raccoon’s head up, to look into his eye. His one eye, that is, for from the other jutted the handle of his bowie knife. “Oops, I guess I forgot about that. Sorry, little buddy. My bad.” he patted the brow, then pushed the raccoon’s head back down between his knees, leaving the curled up little crumple of striped coon to his own thoughts. What thoughts one might have with a lacerated brain, anyways.
He hadn’t gotten much further away, when he was almost crashed into by Chubs, the huge panda’s Hawaiian print shirt missing. He was sweaty, panting, his eyes wild.
“Bix. Oh my god, you have to help me!”
“I.. do?” Bix surreptitiously wiped his bowie knife blade on the panda’s shirt, the large, soft, fluffy bear nodding fervently.
“I.. I think I drank too much... and I don’t want to get sick... can you get me out of here?”
“Oh.. of course I can, big guy.” Bix chuckled. He slipped under the big bear’s arm, grunting at the warm, almost cloying Softness of the mounded male. Sticky, too. “Just come this way.”
“Oh, thanks man... ugh, I think I’m gonna puke, and I don’t want to do that this time... I always puke at these things and then nobody wants to mount up afterward.”
“... mount up?” Bix careened the bear through the throng, grinning as people moved - or were moved - out of the way.”You mean?” He paused, “Oh.” He grabbed the plastic bag from the hand of a wolverine, who laid, twitching, against the wall. He sniffed at it. Airplane glue. Some things never changed. “This will help, come on, let’s go over here...”
The room was, at one point, an office of some sort. The desk was still there, and the large filling cabinets, but other than that it was empty. Well except for the two rats fucking. The one on top snarled at the two intruders, thick slick pink cock slapping into the ass of the one bent over the table.
“Get the fuck out.” Toprat snarled to the two. “Booth’s taken.”
“He’s about to blow chunks.” The coyote replied, simply, nudging the big softie in the side. “If you want, I can have him aim it on your bottom, but it’s going to be very loud, and Very... messy.”
Toprat hunched, dramatically, into Bottomrat, who moaned deliriously. Their big egg-shaped nuts slapped and cracked together, bouncing, the rat ferociously defending the two. “Wait five minutes.” He panted, tail lashing the air behind him.
“How about you get out,” Bix replied, pulling his knife from his sheath. “Or I’ll cut your balls off.”
SPLORCH! The rat tugged that cute, fat rodent dick out of the bottom, and jumped over the desk. The bottom rat groaned, tail flagged, ass winking, as Toprat slammed the door shut behind him.
“Fuck, man, don’t stop yet...” he half mumbled, half slurred, head slumping to the table.
“Oh god, I’m gonna hurl.” Chubs announced his presence to the coyote again, grasping at his arm desperately. “Where’s the trash can?”
Bix gestured to the can, moving behind the desk. “There you go, man, have fun.”
Chubs got down on hands and knees, shoving his head into the can, and Hurled. The wet splattering chunks purging the nachos, beers, weed, brownies, taquitos, pizza, and that one apple he had eaten, from the last hour. Behind him, he heard Bottomrat squeal, a thrashing sound.
‘Jesus, he’s fucking the rat? Now?’ he thought, picturing the two of them copulating just behind him. He pushed his head in deeper, and hurled again, the slimy plastic cool against his fevered brow. “Oh man, I think I drank WAY too much”, he murmured.
Then something ripped open the back of his loose khaki shorts. "Huh, wha?"He lifted his head out of the garbage can, turning, and saw Bix crouching down in front of him. He opened his mouth, and bix shoved something pink and big, about the side of a mango, between his jaws. It was salty, and fuzzy, and had two harder roundish things inside it.
He worked it over, too shocked by the action to think of spitting it out, when one of the round things slid out of it's fuzzy bag and against his tongue. It was very warm, and slick with blood. As he was trying to figure out, in his befuddled intoxication, what it was, Bix straddled his large rounded waist, and hitched his ankles into the panda's flanks.
"Giddyup!" He said, and a gray, scaled-lookign rope noosed in front of his eyes and yanked back into his mouth, like a horse's bit.
He lunged forward, instinctively, turning around and trying to throw Bix off of him.
"Hrrgll mrrgl-GLK!" The twin orbs had been pushed to the back of his mouth, and as he tried to shout, to get Bix off of him, they were clotheslined further down his throat by the weird fleshy rope thing. He gagged, turning around, and then saw the blood drooling from the opened neck of the dead bottom rat. His butt was missing it's tail, and between his legs, there was a flap of skin where his nuts had hung.
"HGLLRK!" He tried to shout again, and only inhaled one nut further down his throat. He bucked, tryign to throw Bix off, and the coyote indeed did swing away, hanging on only by the rat-tail he was using as a harness in the bear's mouth. He swung back, though, and PLUNK! In went a hard ole coyote cock up Chubs butterchute.
The fat panda flailed, and ran for the door on all four. Streamed out to the crowd, slamming through the people as they danced. Choking, his head swimming as the coyote swung his hat in the air behind him.
"Wooooweee! Yeeeha!"
People laughed, shouting "Gettem' cowboy!" "I wanna ride next!" "Yee-doggie!" Cheering and laughing. He bucked and thrust and pushed himself through, unable to ask for help. He gestured to his face, to a rather disdainful looking wolf in biker gear, who snorted and casually flicked his cigar in his direction.
He was getting tired, slower now, and the great rotund panda stumbled towards the front entrance, towards the fresh air outisde. Bix was mad, insane! Couldn't he see... that he was... choking? The warm slippery ratnut was not going anywhere, now, and he wound up slumping face first into one of the big pools of fluff... sinkign down into the soft packing peanuts even as a burly badger splooshed down nearby, hooting. He sank, sank, as Bix climbed off of his fallen mount. Stepping on the fat, debauched ass to climb out of the pool as Chubs slid towards the bottom.
Goodbye, Chubs.
Chapter Three : Leaking
An otter and a fox were weaving through the crowd. They were having, a BLAST. It was like all the whiners and losers hadn’t made it tonight. Just hundreds of horny, hung, happy dudes, getting it on and having fun. They laughed, both of them stripped down to their undies. The fox was wearing a pair of camouflage boxers, riding loose and floppy on his meaty thighs, his chubby belly hanging over them. The otter was wearing a pair of red snug briefs, with the black outline of ‘flames’ licking up over his crotch.
“You seen Emmanuel?” the fox wheezed, leaning against the tall otter. Both of them were thick pelted, the otter’s more bristly-stiff, the fox more whorly soft. While the otter was lankier, the fox was chubbier, a thick padding coating of soft pudge coating his bones.
“Naw man. He went out with Brion, like, hours ago.” The otter commented, stroking his lean belly fur. “Check this guy out.”
‘This guy’ was some sort of an elderly, heavy set lion, and he was flanked by two extremely happy looking pit bulls. Muscular, too. They had those kind of tribal branding tattoos that were popular with the Tribals in downtown Los Lobos.
“My fine gentlemen,” he announced, getting closer. In either paw, he held two strange, metal helmets, which had cords that hooked up to a backpack he was wearing. “Might I interest you in a fun little ‘trip’?”
“A trip?” Frederick twisted and leaned backwards, against the wall, idly scratching at his crotch. It took a few fingers a few trips to cover all of it. “What -kind- of trip?”
“An amazing trip, an odyssey to the root of the mind, to your soul, and beyond!” the lion exclaimed. “Uh, err, you just have to slip these helmets on... Just slide them right over your noggin, and press a button, and-”
“And you fry our cerebral cortex? Yeah, professor, thanks, but, uh, NO thanks!” The fox commented brusquely. “Come on, Frederick.” The otter didn’t’ seem QUITE as ready to say no, opening his mouth before an arm yanked at him. “Come *on*!”
Professor Lion grumbled as they wandered off, his eyes turning towards a marbled polecat, eying him up with a long cigarette in one hand.
“My fine gentleman,” He started, approaching the obviously sophisticated gentleman. The helmets were tucked under his arms, and instead, he scooped either thuggish pit bull up and pushed them towards the appraising spectator. “Might I interest you in some fine quality... entertainment?”
The handsomely sarong-ed polecat drew a wad of green bills from ... somewhere in those folds, peeling out a couple hundreds, and the deal was done.
Frederick let Darwin drag him through the crowd for a while, before finally he yanked his hand free. “Come on, dude, what gives?”
“Oh, it’s that lion, he’s a real sleaze ball. One of my roommates was in his Intro to Mathematics class, and he got all weird, and then he dropped out of school. Last I heard he was doing Tijuana shows.”
“Oh.” Frederick rubbed his chin. “Don’t see the connection. You getting hungry as I am?”
“Yeah, but, I gotta take a piss more.” Darwin thumbed over his shoulder, to the gaudily lit doorway. A fox staggered out, grinning broadly. his muzzle fur was sticky, his shirt was torn and sticky. His tail was lifted up, and his little cross necklace had been tied around it, so that his sticky, crusty, well fucked ass was totally on display. He grinned, and squealed, grabbing both of our intrepid heroes’ attention as he cantered across the room.
“BIX!” he cried, giving the coyote a big squeeze. “Ohmygod, how have you BEEN?”
If someone could radiate discomfort, the coyote did, and Frederick snickered at the suddenly no-longer-grinning coyote. “Oh, yeah Bix? this an old flame of yours?”
Bix gave Frederick a sour look, but then oofed as the preppy, happy little fox shoved a paw down the front of his pants. “Hey! You’re sticky!” He laughed, then pressed close. “Not as sticky as me, though.” It would have been gross, the way he rolled that last sentence, fluttering his eyes at the sputtering serial killer. Frederick seemed to be enjoying himself.
Bix peeled himself away from the fox. “Friskers, uhhh, not now okay? Look, go do your thing. forget you even saw me.”
Frederick nudged Darwin. “Dude, he’s BLUSHING”, and Bix glared at him again.
“Okay, honey, but you have my number... let’s hang out some time.” That paw was friskly manipulating the coyote’s crotch. “I wanna get knotted by you again! BAD. OHMYGOD!” The fox flipped around, and ran to the bannister over looking the ground floor. “NO WAY! IT’S FLESH FOR WINDIGO!! I LOVE THEM!” He winked to Bix, and climbed up on the bannister. “See ya, sexy.” And jumped right off. Frederick leaned over the edge, peering down. Friskers had landed ass first on a very startled doberman. Well, on his cock, and was grinding and twisting himself around. Even as Frederick watched, the doberman’s eyes rolled back in his head, obviously climaxing in that fox that had magically appeared around his erection. Best. Jack-off. Ever.
He turned around, to say something, but Darwin and Bix were gone. “Figures.” And then he saw the horse, Emmanuel, arguing with a large, big bellied bear with a shirt that read, proudly, “I FUCKED YOUR BOYFRIEND”. He decided to head over.
Darwin pushed through the throng of dudes writhing and cavorting in the shower stalls. It being a factory, of some sort, naturally it had had a long chain of sprinklers for the workers to clean up with, and apparently those sprinklers still worked. Darwin felt his thick fox sheath chub up as he had to brush between a group of perky pups all soaping each other down.
“Don’t forget your sheath, Kyle,” he heard one murmur shyly, and glancing over he saw they were doing more than soaping. That was full on circle jerk. Only standing.
“Thanks, Stevie. You’re the best.”
Darwin groaned, and followed two more fellows to the back of the communal shower. His cock was peeking out through the fly of his boxers, and not just from the beer that he needed to piss out of it. He was feeling a heavy tingling churning in his nuts. He found himself in the bathroom proper, with ten stalls for pissing in, and apparently no urinals. Whatever. He walked into the second from the left, and felt his foot jerk out from under him. He hopped against the wall, watching as the thick, sinuous green tail he had stepped on jerked back under the stall to his left.
“Watch it, fucktard, I’m eating here!” he heard from the wall, and he coughed in embarrassment as another voice chimed in, dull and slurry, like it was through a thick blanket.
“Not..yet, you aren’t...get back on this horsecock, snake-mouth..” There was a hint of drunken smugness to the slow voice.
“Just you wait,” came the first voice, lower, more guttural.
“Sorry,” the fox replied, feeling self conscious. Darwin aimed his dick down at the toilet, and had just managed to get a few squirts in when he heard the moaning sound to his left. It was a low, very pleasurable sound, and it made his cock harden against his fingers, all the way to almost knotting. There was a wet slurping sound, that made the fox’s knot pop out of his sheath, and he grunted.
“oh, Yeah, suck it you bad, bad Naga... mmm... can you take it all the way? Can you deep throat my pony bologna?”
A low, guttural growl, another wet slurping sound, and an intense moan was the response. ‘Fuck’, the fox thought, stroking his cock. ‘This is frigging’ Hot..’ He was stroking himself, slowly working his cock from tip to knot and back again, when he heard a grunt to his right. He turned.. and saw a yellow-furred snout peek through. A long red tongue flickered out to cover that dark nose. It looked familiar, but Darwin couldn’t tell ... from Where. The big, chubby fox licked at his lips. behind him, he heard another moan, and a deeper slurp, that went on for ten seconds.
“Fuck it.” he pushed his cock against that hole pushing the snout back, and then cramming his burly prick on through. It wasn’t the longest dick in the world. He was a fox, after all. but man was it thick. Just like him. He pressed it in, sucking in a breath as something wet and hot wrapped around his prong.
“Oh, yeah... yeah suck it,” he said, and there was a noise from the stall behind him.
“Excuse me?” said that first voice, but Darwin didn’t care.
“Come on, man, take it all... I’m dying for you to swallow the whole thing,”
The second voice slurred, “Come on, Seth... he waants you to... show him you can.”
“Oh, I’ll fucking show him!” There was a sound of something large shifting, and a grunt, and another wet slurping sound. Louder, more visceral this time. Darwin’s eyes rolled back in his head as he ground his knot against that hole.
“Fuck, yeah!” he was getting sucked by a pro, a hot mouth tonguing and torquing, twisting and coiling around his cock like a lollipop. “Oh, man, you’re a pro at that... come on, more! Go harder!”
A muffled grunt on either side of him reflected back, but Darwin didn’t care. If that other guy wants encouragement to deep throat a horse dick, more power to him. He crammed his hips against the wall, as that tongue teased and tickled him closer and closer to cumming. “Come on, just a little bit more...... nnngh... you can do it!” He thrust a last time, the hole gripping his knot so tightly. It was wedged just around the widest part of his beercan of a cock the fox knew he was about to cum. And then the worse thing, Ever, happened. He popped through onto the other side.
“FUCK!” that mouth was gone, and he heard the stall door open. “Shit, man, don’t tell anyone... come on, just gimme ten minutes..” His own stall door opened. Bix stood there, a peculiarly.... evil grin on that sly coyote muzzle. “Oh. Bix, hey, uh. Oh, was that you on the other side?”
Bix said nothing, just sliding up behind the trapped pudgy fox. Darwin squirmed uncomfortably as the coyote reached around his font, and rubbed and pinched at his cock root. He tried to pull back, showing the older ‘yote that he was, indeed, stuck.
“Wanna help me out? You kinda... stopped.. right when I was about to, you know...”
“Shhh,” the coyote said, real close to his ear. He reached up, and Darwin’s eyes saw the gleaming silver of a blade.
“What’s that for-” but then he couldn’t speak anymore. His throat popped. The blade slid nice and cleanly right through it, right over his throat and his neck. He felt a gallon, it felt like, of hot blood flush down over his big bulging belly, gurgling. Yanking at the wall, frantically. That blade slipped down, and he felt a hot slash of pain there, too. He was free, though, the fox staggering back from the wall. A little push from the coyote, and he was tripping, falling on the toilet, plunking his ass down in his own piss on the seat. His blood drooled over his belly, and as he looked down, he saw that his sheath was empty. His fat fox-nuts still tight and clenched just below. But his dick was gone. His head drooped, his strength gone, as the coyote wiped his blade clean on his brow, between his ears. Everything was going dark. But there, on the other side of the stall... someone had left a dildo. A dildo that looked like his cock.
Bix waited until the fox was done bleeding, until the toilet bowl was dark red with his blood. He reached under the wall, and grabbed the stubby severed dick, and tossed it between the fox’s thighs. It splashed in the water, and the coyote reached over the fox’s shoulder to flush the toilet.. The dick swirled around, and around, still knotted, before it vanished down the bottom of the toilet, on a magical adventure of it’s own.
He stepped outside the stall, and the stall next to him swung open. A big, green Naga snake was glaring at him, heaving, with a squirming... oddly horse shaped bulge imprinted against the front of his scales.
“You like that, you sick freak? You enjoy watching me suck that horse down?”
Bix balked, glancing to the left and right, and then to the still form of the fox, slumped in the other stall. He cleared his throat.
“Yeah, dude. Totally hot. I hope you suck down more horses like that. Soon. Um.” he gave a little bob with his hat, and then slunk around the tile, leaving the big, stuffed reptile behind. “Weirdo.”
Chapter Two - Death and Seduction
Emmanuel pushed the smirking bear in the chest. “Fuck you, I don’t need to get fucked to find out if I’m straight or gay. I know I’m gay!”
“Hey, dude, chill. I don’t want no double-tapped horse butt anyways,” the bear responded, still smirking. “You just look like one of those uptight straight boys who needs a log of bear meat ground into their love buttons.”
Frederick rested a paw on the horse’s shoulder. “Dude, you okay?” He nodded to the bear. “Oh, hey. You still the RA over in the Nova City Dorms?” He kneaded the horse’s shoulders, as he talked, massaging his friend.
“Not since that incident with the Dean, naw. Suspended my dorm privileges, permanently. Trying to get hazed over at Stuftpouch, though. You seen those guys?” The bear whistled.
Frederick chuckled, still stroking the angry stallion’s shoulders, and nodded again. “Yeah, well, be careful. I hear the swim team had a bad infection of jock itch. Something, like, tropical. The coach had to, yanno, nut them.”
“Nut them?” The bear canted his head. “Oh, fuck man, what a waste, you mean castrated? Shit. Dude. Buzz kill.” he crumpled his plastic cup in his paw and tossed it to the side. “I’m gonna go watch the dalmatian daisy chain in the shower. See ya.”
“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” The otter’s red streaked eyes were focused on the pony’s own, holding him at arm’s length. “You’ve been getting more and more agitated ever since we got in the van.”
“Oh, I dunno. It’s Bix He’s like.” the horse shrugged, helplessly, and the two of them walked. Behind them, a coyote in an old leather hat followed, passing by the bear that pressed so urgently into the bathroom. The two didn’t even seem to see each other.
“..it’s like he GETS me, you know? he’s like this older guy, sure, but you can tell he’s really into his stuff. Like he KNOWS what he’s doing. Have you seen how he smiles? It’s like, when he smiles, you know he’s got control of the whole situation, and everything is going to be okay.”
They passed through the cafeteria, which was mostly empty. There was a bull sitting on the table, gagged, sitting still. He was still wearing a feathered head dress and a pair of Reeboks, but otherwise his body, and maleness had been stripped bare. Beside him, a pudgy, bulky horse with glasses, and an apron that Almost went past his junk was fiddling with a bag of groceries. They passed by, as the horse pulled out a bottle of red wine, and a small bottle of Cajun seasoning, peering at the bound bull curiously.
“Yeah?” The otter shrugged, and they kept walking. “So? You wanna like... what.. fuck him or something?”
“No, man. Don’t be crass. I want to make LOVE to him. With all of me. I want to let him do whatever he wants with me.”
Frederick’s left side of his face sneered up uncontrollably. “He seems kinda like a douche to me. One of his exes ran up to him, and he totally played it off. He seems like he’s the type, he’ll have his way for you, and then he’ll leave you in a pool of your own... fluids.”
“Well, maybe that’s what I want... it’s tough being a big, strong horse, Frederick. You wouldn’t understand. You’re just an otter. Everyone expects you to be a slut. A horse, though, everyone just wants you to fuck them. Fuck fuck fuck. It’s like I can’t go a day without someone wanting me to snake their pipes.”
“Look, this is killing MY buzz. You wanna go fuck the creep, go right ahead, but don’t go insulting me and otters over it.”
“Fuck who?” A third voice came from the side.
“Oh, jeez!” The two exclaimed at once, whipping to see him. It was Bix of course, and apparently he had been listening in to their little conversation.
“Uh, Frederick... I think I saw some sort of wrestling contest, up near the band-stage. Some bird dude whaling on an ork. You like wrestling, right?”
Frederick didn’t. But the chance to see an ork get pummeled on, and more importantly, the chance to to get away from Bix the Dix had him nodding and shuffling off. Bix smiled as the otter wandered past.
“Oh, hey, Frederick?” he called past him.
“Yeah?”
“I met your Graham friend, he said he had some more of that ... stuff you like so much. Said to tell you to meet him up on the roof.”
“Oh. Cool. Thanks.”
Frederick shuffled off, and Bix rested his paws on Emmanuel’s hips. “Now. What was this about wanting to spend some private time with Bix?”
Five minute later, the two had found a private room.
A minute after that, Emmanuel was breathing hard as the coyote slowly peeled his shirt off his broad muscled chest.
A minute after that, the horse was face down on the dirty concrete floor, and a hot, hard coyote cock was being ground into his meaty, tight little bubble but. His own thick cock was crushed between his hips and the floor.
He muttered his profanities of choice as the coyote roughly tied his arms behind his back. Leaned over, nibbling at his ears. Whispered incoherent things to him.
Things about violence, of love and sex, death. Emmanuel whinnied and slapped his nuts against the floor, fucking his cock against it as the coyote filled his ass. Delirious. He copulated, wildly, almost ferally. He squirted his pleasure onto the cold stone floor as the coyote above him crammed and stuffed and knotted in his butt, shooting his own seed deep. He slumped, limp, his arms tied behind him, no struggle left in him as the coyote slid down, resting warm and heavy along his back.
“So. Would you rather bleed or suffocate?” the coyote asked, his breath warm in the horse’s ear. Emmanuel’s ear twitched, and he turned his head, smiling shyly up to the handsome predator above him.
“I guess.. whichever way it happens, it happens.” He clenched, milking the coyote’s cock. “Man that felt good. You’re really good at that whole fucking thing. So powerful. Like a machine. Like you’re trying to kill me with your dick, or something.” he stretched out.
“Well, you’re a tight fuck. I can think of something, though, something you probably haven’t done before, that’ll make what we just did seem like finger-painting.
“Oh, yeah? What’s that.” The horse rumbled contentedly as the coyote pushed himself up, his paws working along those shoulders, slowly sliding closer together.
“You ever tried breath play?”
“Naw. What’s that?”
“Well.. you get fucked... and while you’re getting slammed, you let the guy kinda throttle you.” Those paws slid further up, curling coiling around the horse’s sleek throat, stroking it gently.
“Oh?” The horse lifted his chin up. “Sounds exciting. Sounds dangerous.”
The coyote grinned that famous grin, his fingers clenching. “It is. You gotta know when to let go.” He grasped the horse’s throat, then, in his palms, fingers squeezing tightly along either slender side of it, and he started grinding into that hot horse butt once more.
Emmanuel had never been choked before, and he instinctively tried to pull the coyote’s paws from his throat. His own were tied behind his back, though. So he couldn’t. He tried to breath, but couldn’t. His vision swam, black stars followed by colorful purple and green sparkles swimming and exploding across his vision. his cock was Rock hard, though, and the slimy concrete floor rubbed against the raw thick flesh. He tried to grunt out as that thick knot popped out of his ass, his tender sphincter ripped open with the raw heat of the thick bulbs. This was intense! Then popped back in.
He kicked his legs, hooves clattering against the floor, as he felt the coyote’s breath against his inner ear, fingers clenching tighter around his throat.
“The trick, you know, is to time it.. so that you jizz, RIGHT when they die...”
Emmanuel’s bloodshot eyes bulged, his tongue swollen between his thick lips. He gurgled, and as his body rictussed in one final, valiant struggle against the impending darkness, he felt his thick hose splattering his last warm horse goop onto the floor beneath him.
Bix laid on top of Emmanuel, for a long time, panting and sweating. “Damn. I was right. That was even better than the first fuck.” He kisses between those long ears, now limp, the body still. Pulled out with a wet shlorp, from the quiet body of the horse, and stood up.
Bix was in his element, there, standing in the abandoned storage room of the industrial factory. The horse prone at his feet, and the single dim light from the rave shining over his lean, rangy coyote frame. His cock hung from his groin, swollen and puffy, slick with horse sex. He scratched at his chin, his chest, and started pulling up his pants. Headed towards the door, before turning back to the dead stallion.
“You know, Frederick was right. Look at you. I’m done with you, and there you are, in a puddle of your own juices.” the coyote chuckled. “Frederick, oh, Frederick. One last little Indian to go.”
Chapter One : Sharing is Caring
Out on the roof, Frederick leaned over the edge of the building, staring out over the parking lot below. It was still a beautiful night. There were people streaming out of the rave, now, almost running, to their cars. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, only that it sounded urgent. He felt around in his pockets for that last bit of grass that Bix had gave him, shuddering against the cold night as he did. Where was everyone, anyways. He hadn’t seen Alex since they got here, and Chubs had gone out to puke and hadn’t come back. He hoped the fattie hadn’t rolled down a hill again.
He slid along the side of the roof, towards a bright glow. Off in one alleyway, some of the ravers had made a bonfire, and the warm, orange flickering glow could be felt all the way on the roof. He held out his paws, feeling the heat currents sliding between his fingers, like rising water.
“Hello, Frederick.”
The voice was close behind him, Very close, and the otter felt the hairs prickle along the back of his neck. “Hello, Bix.” He finished rolling his joint, watching as the crowd of ravers down by the fire were approached by another, and then all of them took off running. Why was everyone leaving?
“Did you find your friend?”
“Nope.” He felt around in his pocket, feeling for his light. There was a growing tension in the air, emphasized by the growing, swelling wail of sirens. He could see the buildings flickering a few blocks down, red and lights flashing along their faces. “Someone must have oh-dee’d.”
“Probably. Looking for this?”
Frederick turned around, the coyote RIGHT there in front of him. It made the otter crane back instinctive. naked torso pulling away, hips thrusting forward to keep his balance. The coyote was smiling, holding a paw towards him.
Frederick was reluctant to look away from that grinning face, those steady, intense yellow eyes. but he did, and his own eyes widened. “Oh! My Zippo! Thanks man, you get this from Brion?”
Bix nodded, smiling and watching as the otter lit up his joint, his shoulders relaxing as the green smoke streamed from his eyes.
“Sorry I been so weird towards you, man, I guess I’m just a little high strung tonight. I found out, like, RIGHT before we left, that my brother and his friends never came back from camping. I’m just a little worried about him.”
Bix nodded, as Frederick re-pocketed his Zippo. Another puff on the joint, as Bix patiently waited for... something.
“I mean, I am sure they’re fine. They’re all on the lacrosse team, you know? Big burly guys. If someone tried to fuck with them, they’d get split in half. Horny guys.” The otter tittered, the weed striking deep into his brain, making him high. “This is gonna sound ridiculous but...” He laughed. “I thought for sure when we saw you on the side of the road, that you had, like, killed Graham and those guys. I thought you’d like, put them in the trunk.” He shrugged, as Bix smiled wider.
“How’d you know?”
“Hmm?” The question took the otter off guard, and he took another puff on the joint - which was by now a roach. He peered down at it dubiously, then offered the last of it to Bix. “Oh, sorry, I guess since we’re friends now I should probably share.. you want?”
“Naw. I got something much better than weed.” Frederick turned his head, as the coyote reached into his jacked, pulling something out from behind his waistband. He pulled it out into the open, and Frederick stared at it, dully. And then, realizing, suddenly,he stared up at Bix, his eyes wide with fear.
“D-d-dude, y-you, th-that’s...” He started sliding away from Bix, towards the other side of the roof, and Bix held the shiny, silvery blade up to the moonlight.
“This is what I used to kill your cheetah friend with. And your fox friend.” He looked upwards, as if counting something, and then barked that peculiar coyote laugh. “And about thirty other people. Probably about time for a new blade, huh?” He stepped after the otter, who, at the movement, Bolted towards the staircase in the middle of the rooftop.
There was a pair of collies laying down, just to the right of the doorway. Frederick had heard them murmuring and seen the one on top’s hips thrusting when he came out the door. Now he saw, in the dim light cast by the incandescent bulb, that they were not moving.
“Oh, oh god,” he swore, hearing the footsteps approaching behind him. They were dead, definitely. The one on top’s head had been twisted all the way around, and his pink tongue hung out over his shoulder. The one below’s mouth was open, as was the second mouth, just below, a garish split flesh under his jaw. There was a thick puddle of blood, spread out beneath them. He was stepping in it.. He saw Bix approaching, and slammed himself into the door to the building proper. It opened outwards. He scrabbled, but the door handle was missing.
“Looking for this?” He turned, feeling the sudden double stab, the thick round spears of the handle being jammed painfully into his sleek smooth belly. He grunted, the air whooshing out of him, paws gripping the handle. He staggered backwards, and Bix let him, releasing the aluminum door handle that jutted from his abdomen. “Lost the screws, sorry. Guess we’ll have to find another way down. I can think of ONE way down, but I think I’ll let you have first honors.”
Frederick scrambled from the madman, running, each step twisting the twin spears buried between his intestines, like some giant, comical stapler. He ducked behind a large propane tank, gasping for breath. He needed help. His cellphone! The police were here, he could see the lights reflecting off of the buildings to either side. He could call them - SHIT! He had left his phone in his pants, downstairs. Maybe... maybe the collies would have one! He tried to steady his breath, listening.
Nothing. He peered underneath the tank, and saw only plain expanse of roof.
“Hey.” He looked up. And the knife came down.
If he hadn’t been so stoned, it would have been easy to dodge the coyote’s dropped knife. As it were, he zigged instead of zagged, and it was half a second to late. The twisting head was not able to avoid the tip of the blade, which stuffed itself into one eye, the soft gelatin unable to avoid the piercing thrust. The twisting head sent the knife rotating, in mid swing, so that instead of spearing through an into the brain, it merely sliced through the eyeball, before flicking a scoop of the jelly outwards, like a catapult.
Frederick couldn’t think about the pain he was going in, his severed nerve demanded that he roll on the ground, scream, to succumb, but he knew that was death. He jumped up, and blindly grabbed the knife, running away from the coyote perched on top of the propane tank. Bix slid down, following as the half-blinded otter staggered, bleeding away from him. The collies’ cell phones were forgotten, as he staggered back to the flickering light at the side of the building. He couldn’t think, couldn’t see, but he leaned over and waved his arms.
“Heeeey! HEEEY! He’s up here! Heeeeeeelp! He’s going to kill me!”
He felt paws wrap around his throat, and he was pulled back from the edge of the building. Hacking, wheezing, he felt himself being shaken, shook like a dry tree limb in a winter gust. He felt ... stuff drooling down from the punctured eye, over his cheek. He swing with the knife, swinging blindly behind him, hearing an oof and feeling his wrist thumping against belly fur.
“G..gotcha..” He muttered smugly, and then there was a hot breath in his ear.
“Next time you want to stab someone, make sure your blade’s pointing TOWARDS them.” He felt his wrist grabbed, and then more pain, as it was twisted up, and dragged into his back. The blade punctured, through his back, and he groaned. He felt his wrist pulled from left to right, but he couldn’t let it go. It was like his fingers were super-glued to the hilt. He cut through his own back in a fluid motion, shuddering as he felt his legs go numb.
“Please...don’t do this...please....” He cried. Well, half-cried, half drooled. His legs gave out under him, and those paws wrapped back around his throat. Grabbed him, and even while choking, he saw the side of the roof’s protective barrier come up to greet him.
Pop.
“I think someone said that the killer was on the roof,” the Labrador reported, to the gruff, burly chested wolverine sergeant. Around them, paramedics were dragging sketchers into the ambulance. Some of them had the faces covered, some did not. A large green snake shouted profanities as he was handcuffed, and leg to a large van, already preoccupied with a bevy of slender, young, soft-furred rodent types. Drug dealers all of them. A polecat was berating a lieutenant, demanding to know his name and rank, as ‘his’ pit-bulls were attended to by clinical psychologists. It was mayhem.
“Well get someone up there. That’s as likely of a place as any-” FLASH! “-Jesus Christ, no paparazzi, asshole, get the hell out of here!”
The paparazzi, a tall, militant looking dingo in a blue uniform with two silver words written across the chest, nodded to the sergeant. “Just stocking up, sir.” Then, to the Labrador, “Say cheese!” The lieutenant did a quick, chest-puffing, dopey-grinned salute for the camera man, and the dingo sauntered off.
Sargent Kane scowled at the retreating cameraman. “Quik-Pik, what the hell is that, a magazine? Sounds like a lottery.” He looked at the still grinning Labrador. “You think a dozen corpses is funny? Get up to that roof!”
Before the Lab could, though, there was a scream from some of the people around. Pointing fingers led the way - there was a man falling from the roof. It was impossible to tell what species, but a leathery hat flew from his head, and in his paw, glinting savagely, could be seen a bloodied knife. He fell directly into the heart of the bonfire, burning sticks and coals shooting out in every directions.
\t“GET THAT FIRE OUT!!! NOW!!”
\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t
It took fifteen minutes to put the flames out entirely, and at that point it was far too late for the male who had fallen in. There was not much left of him. Death, the autopsy indicated, had been instantaneous, as his head had crushed like an egg in the impact. His teeth shattered, his fur and muscle burned off, there was no way to identify him. Even his marrow had been boiled in the bones.
The only clue to his identity was his hat, which had landed beside the fire, and the knife, a standard issue Bowie knife. It could be traced to at least ten of the deaths and injuries involved in the rave. And at least twenty more deaths through out the tri-state area. It seemed that the rave was the last stop for the serial killer, who had never really been given a name.
\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t*\t
\tLeo and Marcus couldn’t figure out why it had happened. Out of all the cars in the parking lot, why had THEIRS been the one that had had it’s tires slashed? One beef-kitty leaned against the other, waiting for the repair man to come. The parking lot was mostly empty; the ambulances, ravers, and police were gone. There were a few cars and trucks left, of course, and it made Leo shudder.
\t“Oh, Marcus, some of these cars... belonged to dead people.”
\t “Don’t think like that, Leo. It’s not going to make you feel better.”
\t “Oh, I know, it’s just so sad.”
\t “You kitties okay?”
\tThey turned to the sound of the third voice. It was a coyote, standing next to a large, unmarked white van, his paw opening the driver’s side door. Leo felt his pouch bulge as he remembered back to the beginning of the night, when they had passed the van, rocking violently back and forth.
\t“Oh, hi.” He purred, and the two lions walked closer. “Someone slashed the tires of our cars, and it looks like the tow truck guy got lost. Do you think you could take us to a hotel?”
\t The coyote smiled.
\t “Yeah, I think we can arrange something. Hop in.”
",
"pools_count": 0,
"title": "Six little Six little Six Little Raver Boys",
"deleted": "f",
"public": "t",
"mimetype": "application/msword",
"pagecount": "1",
"rating_id": "2",
"rating_name": "Adult",
"ratings": [
{
"content_tag_id": "4",
"name": "Sexual Themes",
"description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal",
"rating_id": "2"
},
{
"content_tag_id": "5",
"name": "Strong Violence",
"description": "Strong violence, blood, serious injury or death",
"rating_id": "2"
}
],
"submission_type_id": "12",
"type_name": "Writing - Document",
"guest_block": "t",
"friends_only": "f",
"comments_count": "6",
"views": "1927"
}