Let's Pretend We're Not At the End
I – Snuff
As Tristan stepped out into the cool evening breeze, shi closed the door to hir apartment behind hir; locking it and jiggling the handle a bit just to be sure.
The young, ebony-furred vixen already had a somewhat uneasy feeling but decided to go out anyway. After all, shi figured, she had kept hirself cooped up in the cramped apartment for far too long (easily several weeks, being socially isolated and not really having any place to go). It might do hir some good to stretch hir legs out for a while.
After ascending a flight of steps to street level, Tristan began to walk idly down the city's sidewalk at a leisurely rate. The fox kept hir ears perked, hir green eyes kept peeled for any potential danger or points of interest. Shi was clad in hir usual day-to-day outfit, consisting of a white wifebeater top, a pair of urban-camouflage cargo trousers, and a pair of black leather combat boots.
Taking notice of some activity nearby, Tristan began to approach the scene; a rather roomy alleyway with two shadowy figures hovering over a smaller, motionless one. As the pair detected Tristan's presence, they quickly bolted off into the night; long gone before Tristan could even think to pursue them.
Instead, the young vixen knelt down before the small figure laying against the alley wall. As shi came closer shi realized that the figure was really a particularly small, male mouse; couldn't have been any older than seventeen or eighteen, Tristan figured. He was clad in an unbuttoned, white work shirt; stained in his own blood; a pair of regular blue jeans, and bare hind paws.
Thanks to the young mouse's unbuttoned shirt, Tristan was able to see the numerous cuts and gashes on his chest and stomach (presumably from an encounter with the previous two figures). Shi immediately identified these as the source of the bloodstains on the rodent's shirt.
Shaking hir head and frowning softly for but a brief moment, the vixen stood back up; tails swishing lightly behind hir. Unpleasant as this sight was to behold, it was hardly the first time shi had witnessed such a thing in this city; and hardly the last, shi figured. As hir lips returned to their previously-neutral position, Tristan began to step out of the dark alley; soon emerging out the other end.
II – Bitchslap
Almost as soon as Tristan emerged from the alleyway, hir ears perked to the sound of a quickly-approaching, unfamiliar-looking white van. A high-pitched yip emerged from hir muzzle as a pair of strong hands suddenly grabbed onto hir wrists and held them behind hir back; hir panic only increasing as shi heard the sound of a door slamming shut.
Before too long, a leather-bound forepaw clasped firmly around hir maw; separate from the pair holding hir own hands behind hir back as shi looked fearfully into the owner of the gloved paw. It was a rather large, muscled western dragon whom shi immediately recognized as one of the two figures from before. “Shut up, bitch,” he said plainly, reaching his free hand over to slide one of the van's rear doors open.
“Get the fuck in there...” the other, still unknown, figure snarled into hir ear; quickly shoving hir into the backseat and holding hir down as the dragon quickly closed the door behind them, getting back into the front seat as Tristan struggled beneath hir captor.
Tears began to well up in hir eyes despite hir best efforts as Tristan felt the engine rumbling beneath hir, the van starting to drive off to a destination still unbeknownst to hir as the figure atop hir suddenly let off; glaring down into hir eyes for a brief moment before turning to his draconic counterpart.
“Where's the fucking GHB?!” he spat, the drake fumbling around for a little bit as the other sat down on the struggling kitsune, directly impeding hir escape. After a minute or two, the drake handed a small, translucent bottle of an equally-translucent fluid, chuckling a bit to himself as he spoke to his partner. “This'll knock the bitch out,” he said.
“It fucking better...” the other, rather foul-mouthed being said, turning to Tristan and rather painfully prying hir jaw open with both hands; eliciting a pleading whimper and some more tears from hir as the creature atop hir quickly dumped the contents of the container into hir gaping muzzle.
“Drink this, you fucking slut...” he said, the kitsune having no choice but to swallow it all and quickly beginning to lose consciousness; looking up and catching a very brief glance of hir second captor's distinctly canid face as the pair began to chuckle darkly, the van finally pulling to a stop.
III – Surfacing
After a good while, Tristan woke up to find hirself in the middle of a cold, musty, abandoned warehouse. As shi took hir surroundings in, shi began to blink; suddenly realizing that not only was shi tied to a steel chair with some rather sturdy rope, but hir clothes had been removed. Shi shivered slightly as shi struggled a bit, hir rather hairy, lime-furred armpits exposed to the cool air as hir tormentors chuckled, standing before hir.
“Ah, so the bitch has finally awakened,” the canid quipped, the humiliated fox blushing angrily and growling as he drew closer; taking hir chin into his strong hand and stroking it gently before delivering a stinging, swift slap to hir maw. It was at this point that Tristan was finally able to determine his general appearance; that of a visibly older, grey-furred wolf, roughly the same height as hir and clad merely in a pair of combat boots and cargo trousers.
He chuckled and held the vixen's head in his forepaw as he began to kiss hir a bit, fondling hir sheath and smirking as he began to pull back; Tristan almost instinctively spitting in his face, earning hir another firm slap as all nine inches of hir thick, lime-green cock began to slowly slide out from hir sheath.
The wolf stood back and watched as the final inches slid out, already slick from hir pre-ejaculate as it drooled from hir tip in generous amounts; the clear fluid running down the sides of hir length as shi panted softly, a needy look in hir eyes as shi gazed up into the wolf's own eyes, pleading.
Almost on cue, the wolf began to stroke Tristan's cock up and down, spreading hir thick pre all over the thick member as he stared deeply into the vixen's eyes. “You like that girl?” he said, smirking. Tristan could only nod in return, the pleasure overwhelming hir as the wolf suddenly stopped; gripping hir cock firmly in his hand like a vice as he whispered into hir ear suddenly.
“Then I bet you'll love this, you lil' herm cunt...” he remarked, the vixen's ears now fully-perked as he began to jerk hir cock back, tearing it painfully from hir sheath and tossing the now-limp cock to the ground. Shi turned hir head to the side and began to sob heavily, overwhelmed by everything as hir breathing became heavily and shallow.
His hand now coated in hir blood (which also splattered onto the surrounding fur of hir groin as well as the cold warehouse floor), the wolf stepped back to admire his handiwork. The vixen's pits glistened with sweat as tears rolled from hir eyes, tails limp behind hir. Hir breathing had finally slowed down to normal levels as some more blood continued to pour from hir damaged sheath.
Finally, a heavy sigh escaped from Tristan's lips as shi closed hir eyes. Hir muscles weary from struggle and hir crotch pained from the slowing bleeding, shi sat there bound and nude; hir chest heaving in and out as shi struggled to breath at a regular pace. Despite hir attempts, hir body gave in and shi blacked out for the second time that night; hir body completely limp in the chair now.
“Great! So the fucking bitch is dead now!” the dragon spat at the wolf, clearly displeased with the direction this scenario was going in. “Shut the fuck up, boy,” the older wolf snarled, producing a switchblade from a cargo trouser and unsheathing it; bringing it up to the dragon's neck and pushing it taut against his flesh. “Unless you want this blade in your jugular,” he finished, pressing it just a little bit closer to the drake's scaly neck. “Do you want that, BOY?!”
The dragon's face took a sudden pale tone, knowing fully well what the wolf was capable of as he shifted his gaze off to the side. “No... sir...” he said, remaining otherwise motionless lest his movement startle the grizzled canine and cause him to do something rash.
All the while, the young kitsune laid bound in hir chair; unmoving apart from hir body's automatic breathing, the steady stream of blood that was previously pouring from hir sheath to the cold floor now fully halted.
IV – Only One
“Then get on the ground... ON YOUR KNEES, BOY!” the wolf barked, keeping the blade to the dragon's neck as the latter began to comply; his legs and knees shaking as he lowered himself to his knees.
As he did so, the grey wolf held his blade to the side, unzipping his trousers and sliding them down to his ankles to reveal his thick, uncut, aroused wolf meat; twelve inches in total. The dragon licked his lips and almost instinctively reached a hand forward to stroke the beautiful, uncut rod; pulling the stretchy foreskin back after a moment or two and drooling at the sight of his now-bare, drooling tip.
Unable to hold back any longer, the dragon leaned forth and began to eagerly lap the pre up from the masculine wolf's glorious cockhead; taking things one step further as he began to suckle gingerly on his tip. Bad move. The wolf quickly dropped his weapon, as if on cue, and instantly delivered a painful, stinging slap to the drake's face; a snarl accompanying this assault. “Did I SAY you could suck, boy?” he said in an angry tone, looking down at the younger drake; the latter quickly retracting his hands and placing them on the cold ground before the wolf could slap them away too.
Tears filled the drake's eyes as he shook his head softly, looking down to the floor where his hands laid ashamedly. He was terrified for his own life at this point, the senior wolf having really been the ringleader this entire time. The wolf began to turn around, the light-scaled dragon cringing as he knew what was coming next; pleading to no result with the wolf as he pressed his fuzzy grey rump against his open lips, his tailhole beginning to spread as a thick log of his musky, brown waste started to slide out into the unwilling drake's mouth.
The smaller dragon sobbed quietly and accepted his fate, allowing the fecal matter to accumulate in his maw and keeping it open; not wanting to swallow yet lest he anger the wolf further. It curled up into a nice, orderly pile on the dragon's tongue, the wolf turning around to finish the deed.
Taking his still-pulled cock into his hand, the wolf began to urinate freely into the drake's open maw; the overwhelming combined taste and scent of his scat and piss accumulating in the sobbing drake's mouth as the pissing gradually came down to a mere trickle. Shaking off against the fearful boy's face, the wolf then pulled his pants back up and refastened them.
“Now flush, boy...” the wolf said in a stern, no-nonsense tone; gripping onto the drake's dirty-blonde headfur and pulling firmly. Right on cue, the dragon closed his eyes tightly; his maw following suit shortly thereafter as he quickly began to chew the feces up as quickly as possible, not wanting to anger his top by lingering on the matter as he swallowed at once.
He cringed heavily at the bitter flavour of the mixed urine and rectal waste but managed to force a smile as he looked up to the lupine nonetheless; another bad move, as the insatiable elder wolf raised a strong hand back, only to bring it crashing down on the drake's face. This not only elicited a pained yelp and deep flush upon the light-scaled drake's face, but sent him crashing down to the cold floor from its unexpectedness.
The smile quickly disappeared from the young drake's face, replaced by a visage of rage as he tackled the wolf down to the ground. Luckily for the canine, his innate survival instincts led him to grab his knife by the hilt and deliver a swift stab to the drake's heart. As the young dragon began to realize what was going on, his vision was already starting to become a bit blurry; his grip on the wolf loosening and eventually slipping entirely as the wolf twisted the knife a bit.
Before too long, the drake realized that his time was up; and so did his body. As the wolf stood up and withdrew his blood-stained blade from his heart, the dragon's blood slowly drained out for it; along with his life energy, his flesh and scales becoming more and more pale during his last dying breaths. “Fuck... you!” he managed to rasp before finally collapsing, now fully dead.
“Tsk, tsk... such language from a hatchling,” the wolf said, chuckling and clucking his tongue mockingly as he noticed the previously-unconscious young fox beginning to rouse from hir slumber; still tethered as firmly as ever to hir chair. Shi let out an audible gasp as shi looked down, struggling in hir chair and beginning to scream bloody murder as shi writhed in place.
The wolf merely shook his head at this and chuckled, clamping hir muzzle shut with a single, strong forepaw while bringing the bloodied blade up to hir lips with the other. “Now, now... let's not make any rash decisions...” he said, letting a few drops of blood drip onto hir breasts and pierced, lime-colour nipples, “...we're both adults. Let's handle this like it, alright?” he finished.
Tristan shook hir head 'no' left to right many times, letting out a multitude of muffled profanities at him; the only specific words audible being the last four words or so. “...you motherfucking faggot CUNT!”
Regardless of hir inaudibility, Tristan remained defiant, giving two of the wolf's fingers a firm chomp when his grip eventually loosened and sinking hir fangs deep into them; separating them from the bone halfway down the finger and swallowing the flesh. With testosterone rushing through his veins from his previous encounter with the drake, the wolf just barely felt this, though feeling the need to retaliate nonetheless.
Raising the blade back, he brought it crashing back down on one of the kitsune's eyes, penetrating hir now-closed lid and going straight through; piercing the eyeball with a loud squish, sharp pain overwhelming the vixen and causing testosterone to run through hir veins as well as shi seethed.
“That all you got, you FAGGOT?!” shi howled, the wolf leaving the blade in hir eye as he stood a short distance away; now attending to his wounded paw as some tears began to fill his eyes as well, pangs of sorrow beginning to overcome him as the gravity of the entire situation truly began to set in for him. “ANSWER ME, FUCKING COWARD!” shi said, tearing heavily and managing to open both eyelids very slowly; obviously blind in hir left eye as shi glared at the lupine with hir still-seeing right eye, snarling.
“Just shut the fuck up bitch, okay...?! Everything is going to be just fine...” the wolf replied, twitching slightly as the bound fox writhed further; hir hairy pits glistening in the dim light of the warehouse from sheer volume of sweat. The vulpine shook hir head softly, highly doubting the wolf's words and distrusting him regardless, but sighing heavily; knowing there was nothing further shi could do to steer the situation in one direction or another. Blood poured freely from hir left eye as shi watched the lupine draw closer with the right; his strong, non-maimed hand reaching forth to pull the blade back out.
Tristan let out a small gasp from the sheer sharp pain of the blade leaving hir eyeball, replaced by the sudden new sensation of hir eyeball bleeding and draining out; breathing and panting heavily as shi looked up to the wolf with hir one functioning eyeball.
He was licking the blade clean and returning its edge to hir neck, gazing gently into hir eyes as he leaned in; brushing his lips gently against hir own. “One last kiss?” the wolf asked with a smirk. The vixen shook hir head vehemently and spat at him. “No fuckin' way!” shi said, shaking hir head once more for emphasis.
The wolf shook his own head for a moment and chuckled, bringing his crippled hand up to hir throat and gripping firmly onto it with what remained of his fingers as the vixen gave an audible gasp; the older male sitting down in hir lap as he bored into hir eyes with his own voluminous gaze.
“Hypothetical question, sweetheart...” he said in an icy tone, leaning in so that their lips and noses were pressed up against each other, “...but then again, I shoulda known better than to expect such a dumb broad as yourself to realize that.”
As he said this, he began to kiss hir passionately and unceasingly; bringing the knife up to hir throat and moving hir other hand away from it, beginning to saw back and forth into hir Adam's Apple as they kissed. Tears filled hir quickly-closing eye as he slipped his tongue into the unwilling vixen's muzzle; big mistake. Shi suckled on it, taking roughly half its length into hir maw and biting down on it; starting to chew on it as he reeled it back in pain, tearing a bit himself but remaining focused despite his now-mangled tongue and forepaw, so close to victory that he could practically taste it (or was that the copper-tasting blood which was so quickly filling his muzzle? Either way).
Taking hir head firmly into his grasp he continued to saw back and forth, eventually severing the vixen's head from hir neck entirely, leaving a freely-bleeding stump and taking his new prize by the hair; chuckling and watching as it dripped freely onto the chair and body below, now separate from its original owner. “Now now, come home to daddy... he'll keep ye nice and safe,” the lupine spoke to the head, setting it down in Tristan's lap as he leaned down to his fallen draconian companion, slicing his head off in a similar fashion and setting it down on the ground.
After licking the blade clean once again, the old wolf pocketed the blade and took both heads into his grasp; holding them by the headfur and leaving the decapitated corpses behind as he took them out into his van. He carelessly threw them into the passenger's seat and covered them up with some semen-encrusted girly magazines as he turned the van's ignition on using his keys.
After looking around for a brief moment to ensure that everything was in its proper place, the wolf quickly put his right boot down on the gas pedal; steering with his non-mutilated hand as he sped off into the night, his heart still racing and tail swishing lightly from the events of the evening.
V – Dead Memories
After an hour or two of driving, the wolf finally pulled up to a large plot of land just outside the city's perimeter. More specifically, he pulled in to the middle of a large, rather boring patch of dirt. In the distance loomed a large, rather voluminous tree.
Taking both of his still-fresh heads into one hand, again by their headfur, the wolf opened the driver's side door and hopped out. He began to walk towards a decrepit, abandoned old house a mere few feet from where he had parked.
It was condemned by city officials years ago and had barely been touched by anyone since. And could anyone really say they were shocked by this? The house itself was a wreck, a one-story affair with a well-worn, chipped front door that just barely stood up; riddled with bullet holes and revealing the squalor inside. Almost anything one could think of could be found once inside... crack pipes, abandoned meth labs, discarded rubbers, spent bullet casings... the works.
The crusty old shack was also known to be a hotbed for crime, with anyone from the evident ice manufacturers to prostitutes to murderers to horny teens calling it their home. But moreover, the wolf ruled this roost. This was evidenced by the living room, the one room left seemingly untouched by the madness that surrounded it in the other rooms.
The walls were lined with plaques, each empty but providing a spike just sharp and just long enough to hang a head on. A head freshly cut from a victim's cadaver, mayhap?
There was only one head up on display at the moment, anyway; that of a blue-and-white furred wolf named Kane. He was visibly much younger than the two victims this elder wolf had just previously slaughtered, only being fourteen, maybe fifteen years of age tops.
Even some of the most hardened killers would be hard-pressed to lay a finger on a minor, but not this old-timer. He had no limits, as was clearly demonstrated to the two new members of the Wall Plaque Crew earlier that night.
He remembered that night fondly... he had seen Kane at the Insane Clown Posse show while scouting the crowd for some fresh meat. The youngling seemed like the perfect candidate... distracted, young, and he wasn't even with anybody at the time... so probably a loner. Nobody would miss him, and in fact nobody did, a fact testified by the fact that the grizzled old wolf could still walk the city streets without a care; not being suspected of anything particularly fiendish.
After a few moments of nostalgia, the wolf let out a soft, happy sigh and brought the two fresh heads to the plaques surrounding Kane's; first affixing the dragon's head to the plaque immediately to his left, pausing to twist and turn it on the pike, making doubly sure to keep it perfectly centered.
Then came Tristan's head, which he smirked at and gave one last kiss on the lips to with a dark chuckle, slamming it down on the peg to Kane's immediate right with an audible squish; re-adjusting it as he had the drake's and stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Ah... a fun night indeed. Too bad it had to end so very soon...” he said in a wistful, almost regretful tone as he in particular gazed at Tristan; noting the expression of clear agony in hir eyes and on hir face as he concluded his thought, “...but ah well. Not much I can do about it now, can I?” he finished with a shrug and a small smirk.
VI – Circle
As soon as he had finished putting the heads up on the wall, the old wolf let out a heavy sigh of relief. Finally settled in, he could finally relax. He moved over to one of the ratty old couches in the center of the room and sat down on it; reclining and admiring his handiwork, a bulge beginning to form in the front of his trousers.
The sight of his collective bounty of decapitated heads genuinely turned him on, for reasons neither him nor his associates or immediate relatives had been quite able to determine.
Ah well. No matter. He was relaxed, so why not make the most of things? This was his line of thought as he reached down to unfasten his trousers and let them drop down to his ankles; held in place by his thick, leather combat boots as his throbbing wolfmeat stood stiff in the air.
The dirty old wolf reached his head down to sniff his sweaty, musky armpit and growled happily at his own thick scent; reaching his warm tongue forward to lap at it and murring at its taste as a long, rather wet fart erupted from his tailhole. He growled and murred happily at this as he leaned back, arms behind his head; now just enjoying his own manly scents as his eyes slowly began to slide shut.
'Finally...' the wolf thought, '...peace and quiet.'
But he couldn't have been more wrong. Before the wolf could even react, he heard the sound of police sirens in the distance. Due to the boarded-up windows he couldn't look out himself, but he saw the siren lights through the cracks of the windows and began to panic; his heart racing once more as a heavily-amplified voice began to sound off from outside.
“This warning is addressed to one Blacklurk Wolfenburg! This is the Habrigsburgh City Police! You are on condemned property in direct violation of city ordinance, and we have a warrant for your arrest! Come out slowly with your hands above your head or we will be forced to use drastic measure!” it boomed, the message repeating a few times as the gravity of the night's events really began to set in.
It was at this moment that Blacklurk noticed the shotgun lying in the corner of the room, propped up by the stock. He stood up, his throbbing member still stiff and drooling pre as he walked over to the firearm. “Hm... still has a few shells in...” he observed, taking it down to the couch and inspecting it.
“You've had your chance, Blacklurk. FIRE AT WILL!” the voice outside boomed again. The wolf sighed heavily at this and propped the stock of the shotgun up on the couch, aiming the barrels into his gaping muzzle and wrapping his lips on it.
After a few moments he could hear the cops busting in to the scene. It would only be a few moments until they found him, until they found the heads... they probably already saw the bodies, after all. All of this was ultimately too much to bear.
He had no qualms with playing God to the life of another, but the idea of cosmic retribution for his own actions was something that had never even crossed Blacklurk's mind. And now, coward that he was, overcome by terror, Blacklurk knew what he had to do in his mind.
As soon as he heard the sound of footsteps rushing in he pulled the trigger; quickly sending shells pounding upwards through his skull and sending fragments of his brain and skull up into the air along with some fur and blood.
The officer, a young red fox easily no older than eighteen years of age and taller than five feet in stature, gasped at the sight as he witnessed the entire process of the grizzled lupine delivering himself in the final hours. He brought a single paw up to his face and gasped.
“Holy shit...” the vulpine said, both Blacklurk and the shotgun falling down to the creaky wooden floor in a heap as the fox shakily reached a hand down for his radio; calling in his cohorts in blue. “He's... he's in here,” he said in a timid tone. “Wolfenburg?” a stern, masculine voice barked in reply. “Y...yes, sir...” the fox replied in a similar tone as the one he had taken before. “Copy that, on my way,” the other voice said, a soft nod being the timid fox's only form of response.
VII – Everything Ends
During his last few moments on this Earth, a flurry of thoughts entered and exited Blacklurk's head so quickly that he could scarcely even tell what was real and what was just his mind playing tricks on him anymore.
The lines between fantasy and reality was a blur, the sounds of laughter and visages of innocence in the men and women he had slaughtered and raped; a plethora of demons, angels, gods, and goddesses of all stripe making appearances just to laugh and mock him mercilessly; the raw fear of what could happen to him should the police apprehend him. Even the searing pain felt for a few split seconds as the casings split through his flesh and skull like a morbid balloon being popped.
It was all too much for the old wolf, and in his final moments he truly repented for all of his misdeeds; knowing that it wouldn't do him much good for the afterlife at this point but at least wanting to admit what he had done was beyond morally incorrigible and that he would deserve any and all punishment (if any) to be found in his afterlife.
During his absolute final moments in life, after he had pulled the trigger and while the shells were doing their thing, he finally broke down from the sheer emotional weight of it all; starting to bawl uncontrollably, both his weapon and his face covered in tears as he finally rested in the morbid comfort of decrepitude, never to see the light of day ever again.
End