\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t| " | \n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tAnd then you sense a change Nothing feels the same All your dreams are strange Love comes walkin' in Some kind of alien Waits for the opening Then simply pulls a string Love comes walkin' in Van Halen, 1986 \n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t | \n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
5:45pm, one day after the end of the ‘Europe to No Good’ Tour
Room 45
The Athens Gate hotel
Athens
Greece
"Mate, where have you been?" Ricky said, leaping up from the couch in the room as his brother floated through the door of the hotel room.
"Been... been at the museum..." the big fox mumbled, walking vaguely towards the couch his brother had just vacated. He flumped his heavy frame down, a vacant look in his eyes.
"Museum?" Ricky questioned, looking confused. "That's not like you. There aren't many guitars in museums."
Rusty ignored this jibe and continued. "Was... was in there to find things for songs... and I... didn't..." he mumbled, his tone vague. He was leaning forward, his thick forearms resting on his sturdy thighs.
"Right?" said Ricky, nonplussed. "But I'm still not getting why you look like a zombie?"
"It... it's..." Ricky was taking this seriously, as evidenced by the fact that he didn't break out into the Monty Python theme. Rusty gulped. "There was a... there was a lassie there…"
There was a period of silence. Ricky's mouth fell open, and then, slowly, the corners drew up into a smile.
"Maaaaate!" he whooped, clapping his brother on his broad back. "Are you telling me you pulled?"
Rusty merely nodded. He'd been expecting this.
"A-ha!" Ricky laughed, throwing his hands up in the air joyously. "I don't believe it! You big lad!"
This initial reaction done, Ricky put his hands on his thighs, a giant grin still on his face. "Well, come on then, out with it! Who was it? Someone who works at the museum?"
"Aye..." Rusty frowned, having not considered this. "Tour guide."
This only heightened Ricky's curiosity.
"Oh? Getting off with a tour guide..." he said, his brows rising. "What was she like?"
Rusty didn’t speak immediately, just gulping before saying meekly:
“She’s big.”
“O-ho!” Ricky clapped his hands against his thighs. “What kind of ‘big’ are we talking? Chubster? Chunky monkey? Round as a pound?”
“No!” Rusty exclaimed, looking angrily towards his brother. The irritation quickly faded, though, and, to answer the rattlesnake’s question, merely drew a figure in the air with his fingers.
The ‘figure’ was the classic silhouette of a curvy woman, an hourglass that started wide at the top, dipped right in at the waist and then returned to wide at the bottom.
“Awh yes!” Ricky was ecstatic. “You big lad! Sure it wasn’t a supermodel… a pornstar...a prostitute?”
“Will you knob off?”
Ricky was impressed as he sat there: for all the time he had known his adoptive brother, Ricky had assumed that the fox was completely asexual or something. After all, their travels with Whyte Knuckle had gained them a lot in terms of female fans who were more than willing to throw themselves at the boys in the band.
But while Ricky and their bassist Maxxie were all too happy to sweep them off their feet (and straight into bed), and drummer Geiger was odd and shied away from the general public, Rusty had always seemed aloof and unresponsive from anyone attempting to show their affections towards him.
It must have been some girl to make him change his mind.
“Right then,” said the rattlesnake. “Let’s hear it: what happened?”
-------------------------------------------------------------
The Museum of the Acropolis was situated not five minutes away from the famous Parthenon in Athens. The brochure that Rusty had in his back pocket had referred to it as “a catalogue of Ancient Greek treasures in an ultramodern building.”
This much became obvious as he walked towards it through the silent Athenian streets. The silence was a godsend to Rusty, as he didn’t feel like dodging past boatloads of irritating tourists as though he were dodging bullets in the Matrix.
Made of metal and glass, the Museum of the Acropolis stood out amongst the ancient stone architecture around it like a spaceship parked in a forest might stand out.
Striding across the courtyard towards the entrance of the museum, Rusty was actually glad of there being no people – he was used to being in front of crowds, not amidst them, and the lack of people to mill around him, walk at incorrect speeds in front of him or make stupid noises wasn’t going to go unappreciated by him.
The entrance hall of the museum was as similarly vacant as the outside, and Rusty’s hi-tops on the polished marble floor was the only source of noise as he walked in.
But it was not the polished-to-death look of the interior, nor the odd fact that, for the end of August there seemed to be pretty much no-one in this fancy museum, that gave Rusty pause.
No: what stopped Rusty Hamilton dead in his tracks was the tour guide of this museum.
She sat in a small chair by the front entrance, waiting patiently for people to arrive so that she might show them around the museum.
He caught her eye, and she stood, rising from her chair and making her way over to him.
And what a shape she cast as she glided towards him over the shiny marble floor. Rusty was simply unable to take his eyes from her as he took in the utter goddess approaching him in almost slow-motion.
She was a vixen, a fox like he was, as evidenced by her little black nose, her pointed ears and one hell of a long, bushy tail trailing behind her.
Her fur colour was a sweet, golden orange, her beautifully shiny hair and tail were the colour of fire and her irises were the colour of emeralds, green jewels set in crystal ball eyes.
Rusty started to itch the back of his neck. It felt as though someone had inserted a tiny pin into his spine and was wiggling it around.
A white dress jacket which emphasized a bust that clearly needed no extra emphasis: a heaving pair of soft-looking and incredibly inviting light peach-coloured breasts projected outwards from within.
Even from the front, Rusty could tell that she had a fat ass, a magnificent pair of cheeks which stretched out her skirt, making her look like she had a pair of cushions stuck to the top of her legs.
She reached him.
The vixen was actually quite tall, only a couple of inches shorter than Rusty himself as she came to a halt in front of him, affording him an enviable view almost straight into her cleavage.
“Hello,” lilted her voice towards his ears. “I am Aurora. Welcome to the Museum of the Acropolis!”
Rusty blinked, and let out a breath that he hadn’t even realised that he’d been holding in.
“Um… hullo,” he breathed. Her smile was warm and friendly… and her body probably felt the same…
Ooo-ooooh, Dreeeaaam Weeeaver… NO!
With an enormous effort, Rusty shook himself out of his reverie and brought himself back to the present. He was here for history, not women!
“I’d like to have a look around this museum, please.” he said, attempting to sound more businesslike.
“Certainly!” Aurora smiled, clasping her hands in front of her. “Did you visit to see something in particular?”
“IIIiiiiii’m… jist here f’r inspiration...” Rusty’s voice trailed away, his attempt at sounding businesslike taking a serious hit. The clasping of Aurora’s hands had caused her arms to squeeze her mammoth breasts together, and, as a result, two pillowy hills of titflesh had started to muffin-top out of her dress jacket at him, like two big, sand-coloured islands emerging from a white sea.
It was all he could do stare into her eyes and not into her boobs.
Aurora beamed at him. “Then you’ll find this museum to be a rich source for such things! Would you like a guided tour?”
“Aye!- I mean, aye, that’d be nice.” Rusty just managed to prevent himself from sounding too enthusiastic.
“Certainly! Follow me, then!”
It’s bloody hot in this museum all of a sudden, Rusty thought as the white-clad angel of a vixen led him away. Hopefully the air conditioning was on its highest setting…
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The main colour of the museum was white, Rusty determined. It was the dominating hue of the entire building. The floor was white. The ceiling was white. The walls were white.
The suit that was currently being pushed to its limits in front of him was white...
Rusty shook his head, his long crimson hair billowing as he did so. What was wrong with him?
Aurora’s rear was magnificent to behold, and the relative simplicity of her skirt was doing little to detract from it. A subtle yet satisfying shiff-shiff-shiff noise accompanied the echoing sounds of their shoes on the polished floor, though whether it was her skirt rubbing against her buttocks or just her buttocks rubbing against themselves that was producing it was up to Rusty’s imagination.
But it wasn’t as though there weren’t other things to be distracted by.
The museum was truly a treasure trove of Greek history. Any space that was not made to be walked upon was crammed with all manner of ancient relics.
Reliefs, in both dusty marble and shiny bronze, stood upon plinths of their own. Pottery, in both one and several pieces, lay in cases of perspex. Swords and spears, chipped and made earthy brown with age, rested in racks upon the walls, accompanied by rounded Hoplite shields decorated with varying colours and symbols.
All of which received glowing descriptions from Aurora.
It occurred to Rusty that Aurora possessed an accent that he couldn’t quite place. She spoke flawless English, but when she came to the Greek names and words, they rolled off her tongue perfectly like she had lived in Greece all her life.
Unlike the bored history student that Rusty had envisioned leading him around, she actually sounded interested in the myths that she recounted. The tales of Perseus and Andromeda, Icarus and King Sisyphus were recalled with the same ease that anyone might recall their own address, and with vivacity akin to a mother reading a bedtime story to her child.
But despite all of these, the main room was completely dominated by a single figure.
“Bloody Nora, look at him!” Rusty exclaimed.
Even if it hadn’t been on it’s own plinth, the statue would still have easily towered over Rusty, tall as he was.
The marble, as with the other figures in the museum, was aged and weathered, leaving it less white and more of a dirty light brown.
The figure had rather curly hair and facial hair, as well as rather thick eyebrows. A cape made out of what looked like a dead lion draped over one shoulder, and held a thick wooden club in his left hand, which reached his feet.
The most noticeable feature of the statue was his ridiculous body. Rusty was not small by any means, but the literal ‘sculpted’ physique before him made him feel diminutive in comparison.
He was the definition of shredded, utterly bulging with muscle in every corner of his body. His arms had the thickness of legs, and his legs had the thickness of people.
Even if you had just left primary school, you couldn’t mistake him for anyone else.
“That’s Hercules, is it no’?”
“Heracles.” Aurora gently chided him. ““Hercules” is what the Romans call him. I would assume that you already know of the twelve labours he was asked to complete for King Eurystheus?”
Rusty thought. He had never been particularly proficient in history at school, and as such, he only knew that there were twelve tasks, but not what they actually were.
“Actually, I don’t.” he said.
“Well then, sit, and I will tell you.”
Rusty pulled a pen and a notepad out of a pocket of his camo shorts, and did as he was told.
Rusty’s tour of the Museum of the Acropolis with Aurora had come to an end, and what an experience it had been.
Museums had always been of little interest to him, with their enforced silence and uselessly dull tour guides, but today had been different.
Aurora had had such an incredible way with words that enthralled him while they had been at the exhibits… and a body that had enthralled him while they were moving between them.
The end of the tour brought both vulpines to the entrance of the Museum. The sun still sat visible in the sky – its rays still streamed in through the glass front of the building and lit up the atrium – though its position had definitely changed.
“I do hope that you found that to be informative,” Aurora said gently, turning to cast a look at Rusty that the big fox would later recognise as being rather fond as he came to a stop beside her.
“I did indeed,” Rusty admitted, turning his head away, slightly sheepish. He was in for a slight shock once he had turned back to face her...
She was closer to him than he had initially thought. She was very close. Unnervingly, paralysingly close.
As she closed the distance between them, she seemed to move in slow motion… and he just couldn’t move at all.
Her eyes closed as she leaned in towards his face. His eyes were wide, and his pupils were like pinholes in plaster.
Almost reflexively, he leaned back, his torso rising upwards and backwards away from the advancing vixen.
In practice, it was all futile.
Aurora’s lips met Rusty’s.
In reality, it lasted less than 5 seconds, but to Rusty’s mind, it felt like 5 minutes.
All of his brain processes silently went into meltdown, freaking out at finding himself in a situation he had never been in, nor that he had ever expected to be in.
Aurora’s big, pillowy funbags smushed themselves up against Rusty’s thick pecs, threatening to spill forth from their prison, which definitely wasn’t helping.
After an eternity, it ended. Aurora’s lips left his, and her tits stopped invading his personal space.
The heat crept up from his chest and spread up his neck towards his face, threatening to turn his white muzzle as crimson as the rest of him.
Aurora’s beautiful cheeks had some colour to them too, the peach of her muzzle having turned to rosy pink. But, unlike Rusty’s ‘Help, what just happened?’ face, Aurora’s face had a pleasant, ‘I enjoyed that even more than I expected’ expression to it.
It was just then that a group of ten or so tourists decided to ruin this incredible moment by entering into the museum’s foyer, spoiling the atmosphere by talking loudly and taking pictures and other such things. The two vulpines turned to look at them, then turned back to each other.
Aurora broke the silence. “I’m afraid my job calls,” she whispered to Rusty, before the tourists could get within earshot of them. “Will you come and see me tomorrow?”
Rusty’s head nodded itself of its own accord. The shock of being kissed had almost completely made his voice disappear.
Aurora’s face brightened. “Then I will look forward to seeing you again!” And with that she turned and headed off to greet the new tourists, her enormous buttocks jiggling merrily as she went.
Rusty stood there and watched her leave. Something clunked into place in his brain, and, deciding that it might be awkward to just stand there and stare, he put his legs into motion and made his way towards the entrance.
He deliberately avoided looking at Aurora as he passed her, but even as he passed her he felt her eyes upon his back the entire way, even as she delivered her usual welcome to the tourists now congregated around her.
As he stepped outside, Rusty shivered, despite being close to the Mediterranean. He put it down to his nerves being completely frazzled over what had just occurred to him. But, as he trudged back to the hotel, head bowed and gaze vacant, he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d just gotten himself into...
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“And, eh, that’s whit happened.” Rusty finished. Ricky, for his part, was sitting cross-legged and actually looked quite enchanted at the tale his brother had told. As soon as the story ended, though, his mouth had split in a very wide smile.
“Wow!” he enthused. “That was almost Disney-worthy!”
Rusty’s look of annoyance at this comment made the rattlesnake put his hands up in mock surrender before continuing. “I just wasn’t expecting you of all people to get a girlfriend!”
Rusty merely sighed and laid face-up on the couch, letting one beefy arm drape to the ground in silence.
It was so odd to Ricky to see his adoptive brother, so big and stoic and strong, almost completely floored by a female! Usually the only thing that Rusty came close to going gaga over was a guitar that he wanted to buy.
But Ricky knew his brother, and had an idea of how to try and snap him out of it.
“You should take us to see her tomorrow!” he suggested innocently.
Rusty’s head snapped up immediately. “I fucking will not! I’m no’ havin’ you an’ Maxxie knobbing about a museum full of artifacts an’ that!”
“But mate, if she looks like you say she does, then I can understand you wanting her all to yourself!”
Rusty’s acidic retort didn’t have a chance to actually make from his brain out of his mouth, as the door of their hotel room chose that moment to bang open against the wall, three people entering.
“Dinner!” announced Moxie to the room at large, the fatass panda dancing into the room with a couple of large cardboard pizza boxes under her arm. She sauntered over to the table by the window and placed the food-filled boxes down in the middle.
“Pizzaaaaaaa!” In behind her bounced Maxxie Black, who also had a couple of pizza boxes with him. He too laid the pizzas upon the table, but not before groping a handful of Moxie’s thick ass as she laid her own food down.
“Indeed, dinner is served.” The final entrant into the room was the band’s drummer, Geiger, balancing four pizza boxes on the metal palm of his mechanical arm.
At the appearance of his friends, Ricky stood up, a face-spanning, shit-eating grin on his face.
“Alright guys!” he announced to the room at large. “Grab yerselves a slice of that pizza and have a seat somewhere: Rusty’s got something to tell you about his day!”
Rusty’s hand slammed into his face at the prospect of telling his tale again. “Fuck’s sake...”
That night, after all the pizza and beer had been consumed, and Rusty’s ordeal had been retold to the group in a slightly tipsy haze, Whyte Knuckle and their favourite groupie finally retired to their beds.
But while silence reigned, and his compatriots were all unmoving in their sleep, there was no such easy escape into slumber for Rusty himself.
His big body tossed and turned in his bed, and his mind refused to turn off, away from the beautiful vixen he had met that afternoon.
Aurora.
His heart yearned for her as it had never yearned for anything before, and every time he closed his eyes in an attempt to drift off to sleep, her flawless form appeared there, as though she were permanently tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. The resulting cascade of emotion had thrown his brain completely, contrasting waves crashing against each other as reason and raw desire clashed within him.
This feeling had filled him entirely, and from the time that he left that museum, all through dinner and the rest of that night, she was never out of his mind.
In the still of the night, the gentle words of the vixen echoed around the hotel room at him:
“Will you come and see me tomorrow?”
Of course he was going to go back...
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After about 9 months, finally got this story done, thanks in no small part to \r\n\t\t\t\t\t
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EDIT:
I've added in some 'alternate colours' for Rusty's outfit that were definitely in no way taken from the outfits of Axel Steel from Guitar Hero.