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Accidental Occultism

On the night of Halloween a tired and overworked graduate student makes use of her staff privileges to get into the closed university library. In attempting to find a quiet place to work, away from the gallivanting student body she finds herself falling prey to the real reason why the library is kept locked up on All Hallows Eve; giving the poor husky a night full of screams that she will surely never forget.

#tentacles #monsters #Halloween #nsfw #size difference

#stretching #inflation #oviposition #anal #vaginal #library

It had already been a long day. An office hour with her students had turned first into an office hour and a half, and then an office several hours... Her students had taken her literally, for once, when she had told them that they should make use of her consultation hours to help them with their soon to be due essays. Unfortunately they had all done it on the same day - three days before the essay was in fact due. With a sigh the husky let her neck relax, her head thumping onto the desk in front of her. Piled around her were piles of papers, books, snack foods and more detritus of the graduate student's life; all illuminated by the neon glow of her tablet's monitor.

If her ears could droop to demonstrate just how worn out the sudden demand of attention has made her they would have done, likewise the curled tail slipped through the gap in her chair behind her belied just how tired the day's efforts had left her - the curse of the husky; always to look perky and cheery. Lost in her consideration of her breed's inability to demonstrate anything but positivity she almost missed the demanding 'blip' from her tablet. Eyes which had begun to close somewhat, relaxing now that peace had once again begun to descend, easeed open again to flick to the notification that had appeared on her screen - an email.

~

Dear Dr. Kale,

I'm having some problems with my essay. Katie said that you were in your office about 20 minutes ago, could I come and see you to talk it over. I know it's late but I really don't think I can work this through by myself.

Best wishes

Richard Thorn

~

Her head dropped back to the desk, with a much more solid thump from the wooden surface this time. Sighing Dr Tassle Kale shakes her head and pushed herself upright again, properly opening the email and starting to answer it in the affirmative. It's not as if she had her own plans or demands on her time for Halloween night after all.

No, I am but the lowly teaching fellow; I live to serve the student body, whenever it might call.

Speaking of... she took a quick glance at the sports watch on her wrist and snorts, instantly changing her mind.

At 8:20 pm I am not taking on any more work. But I can't stay here...

She knew what Rich is like however; If he doesn't get a response he'll just turn up. Hell, even with a response saying no he'll probably turn up anyway just in case. Enthusiasm is usually a trait she encouraged in her students, but in this instance it's really not the time for it. She turned to the tablet again, reaching out with black and white furred paws to quickly fire off a response to the over-eager student.

~

Richard,

I'm afraid I have already left for the day. If you have a draft or a plan send it through to me and I will take a look tomorrow morning. Then I can give you some pointers and if necessary we can meet up after that.

Regards

Dr. Kale

~

With that done she slid out of her chair, stooping to grab her satchel, throwing books, papers, and the tablet into it before pulling the drawstrings tight and pulling the flap down to close it up. Throwing it on to her back she padded over to the door of her office and exits, turning to lock the door behind her. She knew that she can't stay on campus now, or at least not in the office. Rich, as a first year still lived on campus grounds and so there was not an insignificant chance of her bumping in to him should he decide to take a chance on her office anyway, or simply if he was out getting food, or a drink.

The corridor she was now stood in was dark, just the security lights giving a rather dull illumination. She had always thought that the halls of this particular building looked similar to the corridors in The Shining, that Stephen King adaptation with the kid riding his trike up and down the corridors. If anything, the similarities were all the more obvious now, in this dim light. It struck her that she was being cliched, comparing her work environment to that of one found in a classic horror film, on Halloween night of all nights. With a slight chuckle, sounding somewhat overly loud in the otherwise quiet hallway, and a roll of her eyes she headed off towards the exit.

She still had work to do, her own work this time, and she couldn't really afford to leave campus yet. But at the same time the peaceful sanctity of her office had been breached and then somewhat sullied by the continual invasion of her students over the day. Alternatives were running through her brain as she left the corridor in which her department was based and headed into the ornate staircase that lead down to the quad. She couldn't go to the main library, it was open twenty four hours a day yes, but it was open to all students, which meant the chances of running into Rich or another student were still too high. She was making her way across the quad, the autumnal wind blowing the modern interpretation of a Victorian frock coat that she was wearing out behind her, when inspiration struck.

Half way across the quad, right beside the marble statues of the university's founders she took a right, following the well-tended pathway across the grass in a direction directly opposite that of the building's main exit. Her destination was as dark as the corridor that she had just left, if anything even gloomier. The old library was closed, likely locked up to. Despite the fact that it was ostensibly an always open service like much of the campus these days she recalled an email just the other day reminding staff and students that the library would be closed over Halloween for "works", whatever that meant.

As she walked into the archway leading out of the quad on this point of the compass, in which was the door to the old library she pulled her coat in against her again to hunt for the keys that turned out to be bunched up at the very bottom of one of the large inner pockets. It might be locked but that would really only deter students, surely there couldn't be any problem with a staff member using one of the desks for the night?

It's not as if I'm going to trash the place. That's probably why they've locked it anyway, a good way to ensure drunken and costumed students don't use the place as a great themed spot for their Halloween night debauchery.

She didn't begrudge the young furs their revelling, in reality she had to accept that she was probably envious. As if to drive that thought home a number of said revellers cantered through the arch in front of her headed to the bar: a number of young equines dressed up with headless effigies of riders on their backs. She couldn't help but smile as she saw their outfits, they were rather inventive. Her eyes lingered a little longer on the bared chests and well....mostly bare young males as they gallivanted over to the bar on the other side of the quad, the ring of their hooves echoing around them. A shiver, nothing to do with the cold, drew a shift her posture as she makes her way over to the big oak door to the library, the key now in her hand.

Slipping the large key into the lock she quickly worked to let herself in, looking about as she did so to ensure that there isn't too much attention being paid to her. Luckily, the objects of her admiring glances are having a similar effect to the only other furs about; their arrival at the Halloween party hosted in the quad's bar drawing more than enough attention to make her ingress to the deserted library all but unnoticed.

There was even less light in the main entry hall to the library than there had been in the corridor outside her office, apparently health and safety hadn't managed to make its mark on the vaulted room quite yet. The library had a hushed feel to it, as all libraries seemed to, even when filled with people, but this one had it to an extent that most only aspired to. Perhaps it was the age of the place. The whole building dated back to the late 1800s she knew, and had been a library since being opened by Queen Victoria. It was a single, large room, separated into varying areas, from open desks and rolling stacks, to the repetitive pattern of large walnut book shelves in the section furthest away from her. The whole thing, the mixture of dark, polished wood, reflective brass fittings on desk lamps and corner posts, the lack of laminations and the high, arching stone ceilings almost seemed to impose its own will on anyone who entered, daring them to break the weighted silence within.

Maybe this place didn't need to be locked to keep the students and their parties outside. I can't see anyone being able to get into a party mood in here.

Tassle had spent a great deal of time in this room, but never before when it was entirely empty. Even on her most extreme of late night study binges there had at least been a librarian wandering about the shelves or sat behind the large oak reception desk. Now though, the place was entirely empty, and that lack of...life, was getting to her. It wasn't like she could feel eyes on her, that was too directional, too distinct. It was more as if she could feel the weight of the room upon as if she was being smothered in the attention of some other presence.

You're being an idiot. You've been reading too much Lovecraft again and it's Halloween night. Stop being ridiculous and go find somewhere comfy to work.

With reality restated and her own internal self-admonition over she strode purposefully over to one of the large reading desks, pulling her arms out of coat as she does, swinging it over the back of the chair in front of her. Despite no longer enjoying the coverage of the heavy coat, her plain black top with the neon yellow Batman logo across the chest was be more than enough to keep her warm, then again, the plush fur that can be glimpsed through the V of the top's neck probably does more to explain this fact. Husky genetics strikes again.

Dropping her bag next to the chair she pulled the heavy wooden seat out and dropped herself into it, leaning forwards over the leather inlay of the desk to flick the switch on the brass lamp fitting. The light leaves a rather pleasing pool of illumination on the desk around her, for the second time that evening conjuring up classic films with their clever use of light and shadow to influence mood. Books are drawn out from her bag and stacked up to one side of the desk, the tablet follows them, folded out with the keyboard deployed in front of her, the somewhat harsher light of its screen glow soon adding itself to the more diffuse, warm light of the reading lamp.

With a sigh she opened up the most recent version of a paper she had been working on; an argument that Voltaire's and Hegel's perceptions of warfare were compatible with current trends in cyber conflict, and started to tap away. The sounds of fingers hitting the keys of the fold out keyboard are the only distinct noises in the room, every now and again these are broken by sounds of brevity from outside, catcalls, increasingly drunken singing and yelling as the night goes on. Other than that, the feeling of solitude....and yet not quite, grew the further into the night time passed.

With a final, triumphant double tap at the return key Tassle leant herself back, all the way back in the padded chair and expressed a heavy sigh, the expression on her black and white furred face one mixing satisfied pleasure at finishing her work, with the burgeoning exhaustion that's beginning to follow in its wake.

Writing is like a drug. I've finished and now I'm getting an instant drop off; just like that time I drank three energy drinks, one after the other, so that I could get that paper finished during my undergrad.

Funny how that seemed far more prophetic, imbued with importance now than it would likely do at any other time. She checked her watch again, for the first time she started writing and sighed again, more exhaustion in the sound this time; 23:56. Closing her eyes she let herself sink down into the plushness of the chair, more than she has allowed herself to do over the preceding several hours, hoping that the paper she has just finished has more merit to it than that granted by an overworked brain in the latest hours of night.

She had just been on the edge of dosing off, perhaps a little past that edge, when something on the boundaries of her conscious awareness began to bug at her. The pointed triangles of her ears started to twitch, as if they sought to hone in on a particular sound and bring it to greater clarity; but that was in fact the source of her sudden disquiet. There was no sound. This was no longer the hushed silence of a closed library impinged upon by the muffled exuberances of the student body enjoying their evening outside the thick stone walls, it was complete. Utter silence had descended on the library as a whole, or at least upon her. It was as if her ears had been blocked up. Rubbing at them disproved that theory, as did the shifting in her seat as she straightened from the earlier slouch. She could still hear, there was still sounds, but only the sounds she made.

The lethargy that had previously threatened to send her off into the realms of sleep quickly dissipated as the peculiarity of this auditory phenomenon began to stir a growing unease. Her heartbeat was becoming audible, thumping in her own ears. Potentially as a result of her own spiralling disquiet, but seemed as much itself a symptom of the muffling silence that seemed to blanket the room like a heavy, thick fog. Shaking herself she turned back to her things, quivering hands quickly gathering books, pens and gadgets back into her satchel. There is no attempt at returning them in any semblance of order. She grabbed her coat, bundling it under one arm with the satchel over the other, not even bothering try and take the time to pull the garment on properly. She hesitated, looking around the room, some part of her still wanting to understand what it was that had caused this effect, attempting to bring logic to bear on a problem that on the surface appeared to defy it.

Screw this. Whatever it is, I don't need to know.

She hung on to that decisive thought, using it stir herself to movement once again, she turned on her heel and headed straight for the door through which she had entered so many hours previous. Her long legs brought her across the room in rapid order, far more rapid than her relaxed entrance had been; her egress it seemed was going to be far less subtle than her ingress. Once at the door she lifted her free hand, holding it up in front of her to push the door out and open. Having not locked it should have simply swung wide at her touch...it did not.

The startled grad student was brought up short, only just catching herself before her pointed muzzle would have contacted the solid, polished wood. She shoved the door again, thinking perhaps that was stuck. No luck, if anything it seemed even more solid than it usually did; even with her full weight shoved through her shoulder into the wooden portal it didn't so much as shift.

M...maybe someone came by and locked it while I was working, noticed it was unlocked and just quickly locked the door again?

She already doubted such a simple explanation, the evening was quickly forcing her to discard the plausible in favour of the unlikely or the impossible. Even so she was already fumbling for her keys once again, shoving a hand into each pocket of her coat in turn until she pulled out the jangling bunch. It took her a couple of tries to not only select the right key but then get it into the polished metal lock. To her delight, and relief it turned. The mechanism shifted and the bolt pulled back. She pushed at the door again, pulling at the key to remove it from the keyhole at the same time... This time not only did the door not relent in its steadfast resistance to her attempts to open it, they remained similarly immovably stuck in place.

She stepped back from the door, eyes now wide, breath coming at a rate far faster than usual, misting the air in front of her as a sudden chill encompasses the room. There's no draft, no windows are open, and obviously no doors. She realises quickly that the temperature change hasn't been sudden, she simply hadn't noticed it; being naturally suited to colder climes than most thanks to her fur its simply that the misting of her breath is the first visual cue to just how frigid the room has become. Just as this realisation drops in to place a sound breaks the silence, the first sound not made by Tassle since her rapid flight from the desk. It's the slow squeak and grind of metal on metal...

Her eyes snapped to the door. Down to the lock. To her keys. The keys which had slowly begun to turn once again in the lock, all by themselves. Even as the husky stared at them, eyes widening in growing shock the slow, gradual rotation became a rapid, sudden twist. The keys jangled discordantly against each other, the sound painfully harsh in the otherwise perfect stillness and the bolt slid home with an echoing, final thunk.

She back peddled, her tail and then lower back being brought up by the librarian's heavy desk sat right before the door. She slid along it as she turned back to the rest of the room again, her panicked mind raced, reminding her of the exit at the back of the stacks.

Does it need a key...No....no, it's just a bolt. I can open it from the inside, get out that way.

She scrambled properly to her paws again, running now as she flew past the desk that she had been happily seated at earlier. She stumbled, almost falling as, in her need to get away from whatever was happening she misjudged the single step up out of the lowered work areas into the rows of bookshelves. Paws windmilled in front of her, bag and jacket falling beside her as she barely caught herself from ploughing headfirst into the nearest bookshelf. The nearness of her brush with concussion forced her to exert some willpower. As she pulled herself fully upright again she struggled to calm her breathing, trying to slow the rapid, deep gasps, towards a semblance of her regular cadence. She doesn't quite make it, but the effort does help bring a modicum of clarity back to her thoughts.

I can't just sprint through this place in the dark. It's not that big a room, the exit isn't that far. I just need to walk over to it and leave. Where is it? I'm sure it's just in the back corner, a fire exit.

Her eyes lowered to the bag and coat that she had dropped to the floor in her mad dash for a potential exit. She could feel the desire to leave them there, to not take the time to bend to pick them up; there was that nagging thought at the back of her brain, the part that had warned her that something was simply wrong about the library tonight, it was urging her to flee, leave her belongings and get out the fastest way possible. She pushed it down, refusing to let that instinct rule her actions. Bending at the waste she reached down for her coat, pulled it on in the same motion, one arm slipping into a sleeve followed by the other. The practiced and familiar action seemed to have some kind of calming effect, the pace of her thoughts slowing, rationality seeping back in even as she bent once more to retrieve her bag...to find it gone.

No, not gone. It had simply moved. She had reached down blindly to pick it up, arms moving based upon her remembrance of where it had been when she had last looked down to gather up her coat. She spotted the black canvas, it was up against the very same bookshelf with which had had almost collided. It looked as if it had slid half around the corner of the shelf and into the space between this shelf and its partner. Surely she hadn't dropped it with enough force for the heavy, book filled satchel to slide so far, it was a good five feet away from her and half around the corner, almost out of sight.

How did it get so far into the row? It would have to have turned the corner...

Trepidation blossomed in her once again, the calm that she had begun to reacquire becoming a frail thing, heart beginning to pound in her chest again. Stubbornness won out over fear, barely. If she accepted that there was something to be scared of, some reason to not simply round the corner of the aisle of bookshelves, pick up bag and calmly leave, then that would in itself grant solidity to the so far nebulous fear she was feeling. Nothing tangible had presented itself to her, nothing undeniably real. If she allowed herself to give in to fear at just this formless sense of oppressive disquiet she would only be supplying that seed with the recognition it required to become that much more real.

CLEVER MORTAL; BUT YOU'VE GIVEN US MORE THAN ENOUGH OF YOUR FEAR ALREADY BUT, I'M SURE WE CAN FIND SOME OTHER USE FOR YOU...