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Sometimes Bad things Happen on Halloween

By BunnyBoy

This story and the characters in it are copyrighted to BunnyBoy.

Warning the story contains sexual encounters of a nonconcessional nature between an adult male and a male cub. So if your too young or easily offended please go no further. Thank you for reading and please enjoy

Charlie sat in his car humming to himself as he waited. He'd been looking forward to this for weeks now. It was his treat to himself, he'd been ever so good this last week. His boss told him productivity was up and he just might be in line for a bonus. He whistles checking his watch, fifteen minutes to three not long now. He wonders what it'll be like, it's different every time.

He shifts around a bit, the anticipation making him adjust his seat. Ten more minutes, the last moments of waiting are the worst. They seem to drag on forever as you wait, it's so good when you finally get a new toy though. He sighs, a shudder courses down his spine. He can't wait for playtime tonight it's going to be so much fun. He wonders how they will start, He'll have to be careful though, he was a bit to rough with the last toy. That won't do at all, he wants to make sure this one lasts for awhile. He pauses to think as the remembrance of the old toy slips into his mind. Did he remember to put away the broken toy? No he hadn't had he. He'd tidied it up but hadn't gotten rid of it yet. Oh well he'd have time for that when he got home tonight.

Five more minutes, it's almost time he can't wait soon those doors will open and he'll be able to get that new toy all to himself. Four minutes to go now. It's the last few minutes he likes most, the anticipation is driving him to near distraction, he can't wait it's almost as much fun as the actual toy is going to be. Three minutes left, it's so close. He shivers flexing his gloved paws on the wheel of the car. Two minutes to go. He knows just what to do, he's planned for this moment right down to the last detail. One minute left, almost time now he's just got a few seconds more. The doors swing open as a loud bell clatters to life, ringing out and ushering the flood of cubs out onto the surrounding sidewalks of the town. Some already in costumes because it is Halloween tonight after all.

The slightly plump gray squirrel starts the engine of the car, smiling the engine sparks to life. It's a nondescript car, with no bumper stickers and a plain blue paint job. It could be any one of a million different vehicles. Though it is special for two reasons, one is the fact that it's currently sporting stolen plates and two has to do with the specially constructed hidey-hole in the trunk he'd made after expanding the spare tire well.

He spots the new toy as it makes it's way down the side walk, the little fox cub trudges quietly past the outer ring of waiting parents and off down one of the many streets connected to the school. He goes easy on the motor stingily feeding gas into the engine, just enough to keep the tires spinning and the boy insight. He's waiting again this time the wait is even harder, because unlike the last time he was playing this game, now his prize was right there in front of him. He watches that cute little bottom and wonders how he'll play with him tonight. Maybe he'll play dress up, He's got a sailor suit that would look just adorable on his new toy. But oh wait it's the first night, that's more about taking things off rather then putting things on. It's a full six minutes before the street is clear enough for Charlie to make his move.

He pulls his car up to the curb and opens the passenger side door to the cub. "Hey, are you Sam Monroe?" He calls out to the startled cub. The boy pauses for a moment and nods. He knows he's not supposed to talk to strangers, so he's about to keep walking when the man starts talking again. "Yeah I thought so. I'm really sorry son but there has been an accident. I need you to come with me right away."

"An accident?" Whimpers the fox taking a step closer to the car. "What sort of accident and why should I go with you?"

The man behind the wheel nods, "Yeah it was a bad one son. Your mother's hurt pretty bad and the hospital sent me to come pick you up." He fishes about in his coat and pulls out a police badge. It looks real and it should, Charlie had paid a lot of money for it. "I'm Detective Stabler please come with me, I'll take you to your mom."

Sam whimpers softly. His mommy is hurt, He has to get to her, they say you never get in the car with a stranger but he his a police officer. What was he supposed to do? Unconsciously his feet bring him closer and closer to the car even as the boy waivers on the right course of action.

As soon as he's close enough, the squirrel reaches out and grabs the front of the boys shirt tugging him into the car and dumping him unceremoniously on the passengers seat. Charlie steps on the gas. He doesn't stomp on it, nothing to draw any more attention to himself but he just speeds up even as the boy starts to thrash and scream in the seat next to him. He drives with his left hand as his right reaches into his dark brown jacket, pulling out a heavy automatic and pointing it at the boy. As soon as the little kit sees the gun he stops squirming and fighting. He starts to whimper again, the whimpers soon lead to tears. With the gun hand resting in his lap the barrel pointed vaguely in the boy's direction, he starts to titter to himself as he speeds through the streets heading to a secluded spot he's scouted this morning. "Oh I knew today would be a good day. Yep yep yep. A brand new toy all my own, that I don't have to share. This is going to be so much fun. Ohh and it's Halloween too I almost forgot, I'll need to stop and get some candy on the way home."

It takes them five minutes to get to the little grove of trees, it's a secluded location where they can be alone. As he kills the engine he looks down into the tear stained face of the boy next to him. Oh he's been crying thinks the man, these toy's just keep getting better and better. It's marvelous, he thinks about giving in and playing with his new toy right now but it's too risky someone might see and want to share or take him away. Better to get home it'll be safer there, besides he thinks, mother always told me I had to put away my old toys before I played with my new ones. He opens the door and steps out, gesturing with the gun for the kid to follow. With a hungry growl he produces a number of clear plastic zip ties and uses them to bind the boy's wrists and ankles, he stuffs a rough rag in the boy's mouth to keep him quiet. Sometimes these toys would start talking at the most embarrassing moments. He drags the squirming boy around to the back and pops the trunk. He smiles wide and genuine as he settles the boy deep into the cold metal chamber, placing the false spare over him and then smoothing out the cars carpeting over that. Just one more thing and we're off scott-free. He pulls the tool kit from the trunk and quickly removes the stolen plates, replacing them with their legitimate partners. He dumps the plates in the bushes next to the boy's backpack before settling back into the car and speeding off towards the highway.

It's shortly after six-thirty that night when Charlie pulls into the home he'd lived in since his childhood. He quietly parks in the garage and closes the door before he dares to pop the trunk. He pulls the scared child from his concealment, snapping the bindings around the boy's ankles and before the lad has a moment to stretch his cramped muscles the man forces him to march into the dark and scary home.

Charlie knows what he's doing, having done this before. These new toys needed a chance to rest before playtime. He lets the little boy visit the bathroom to relive himself, the lad finds the small window nailed shut though and the fox is given a small drink of water before Charlie pushes him on towards the playroom up on the second floor.

The playroom is a rather large bedroom; the bed is draped with sheets, pictures of spaceships on it and scattered about the room are toys, some normal but more are sexual. Amongst the cartoon and movie posters on the wall, are metal rings and hooks the type that chains and restraints could easily be run through. Sam just has a second to register the still damp reddish brown stain in one corner before the stranger spins him around, sitting him down in a sturdy wooden chair. Once more he finds his wrists painfully bound as the man weaves the ropes among the spindles of the chairs backrest.

Charlie smiles, He always did like tying knots ever since his days in the Boy Scouts. He frowns remembering the scouts and how he'd been kicked out, like he told them then it was an accident. He'd never meant to hurt the smaller boy, he just needed to practice his rope work. He sighs loudly and stands up smiling down at his new toy. "Now don't worry, I'll be back in a little bit and we can have our very first play date." He whistles as he strolls out of the room and heads down the stairs towards the basement. He's still whistling as he snatches up the shovel and steps onto the earthen floor of the old cellar.

Above the squirrel, a bare bulb flickers and sways causing the shadows in the basement to wave and swing in wild and bizarre shapes. Something seems off somehow, some of the patches of dirt seems mottled and disturbed. Maybe some animal had gotten in, he ponders there must be dozens of scavengers who would want what's here in this stinking patch of earth. He spots the rumpled heap of the broken toy in the corner. Its neck is canted at an odd angle and the little fox looks like such a pathetic thing lying there in a broken heap. Charlie sighs softly, he's so upset that this toy wound up broken like this. He really had a lot of fun this time, it's why when he went looking for a new toy he tried to find one as close to the old one as possible. In fact except for the broken neck and the blood stained pj's they could almost be twins. Thinking on this the squirrel starts digging, it's almost a planned obsolescence muses Charlie. He pauses for a second as he thinks he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. The squirrel peers into the shadows suddenly nervous. "Hello, is someone there?" He's almost whining, this certainly wouldn't look good he thinks. A respected businessman in his basement digging a hole with a dead child on the floor next to him. No, his neighbors would never understand that no matter how good his explanations were. No one answers though and after peering into the shadows for a long time he sees no one. He turns back to digging carefully hauling the earth out of the shallow trench, one shovel full at a time. Again he sees the movement from the corner of his eye, this time it seems to come from the crumpled heap at his feet. Gently he prods the tiny little corpse with the blade of his shovel making sure it is surely and truly dead.

Charlie shrugs sometimes they move after they broke, it happens to some toys. He leans down and grabs the little body, it weighs next to nothing and he drops the limp form into the shallow grave with a sigh. A tear forms in the corner of his eye, it's so sad he really hates it when he breaks his toys. He closes his eyes no use dwelling on the past though, it's time to move on to the future.

"What's the matter Mr.? Why are you crying?" The wet and raspy voice startles the man, making him jump and look around the room.

"Who said that? Your breaking and entering and in a lot of trouble." He growls off into the darkness but still he can't see anything. Of course with the deep shadows he really can't see the edges of the cellar, he'd only be able to make anything out if it moved. A sound draws his attention once again to the shallow pit.

The body shudders and the neck twists around, an eerie grating noise setting the man's teeth on edge as broken ends of bone grind against one another. The boy's sightless eyes pop open and those dead staring orbs look up into the shocked man's face. "What's wrong Mr. don't you like playing with me any more?" The neck snaps back around the right way, the horrible splintering noise sounding out once more as the dead child tries to rise up onto his knees.

Horrified Charlie stumbles backwards, tripping over his own feet and falling backwards smacking his head on one of the house's support beams. As blackness closes in he whimpers, it's not supposed to happen like this.

He doesn't know how long he'd been out but it couldn't have been to long. He blinks the shadows from his eyes as he stares up at the bare bulb. It's still swaying a bit from when he'd tugged it on, so it couldn't have been long at all. Suddenly remembering the nightmare that had caused him to stumble in the first place, he looks around the sandy dirt cellar sure that grisly grinning muzzle would be coming for him. But no, there is nothing there. Even the site of the fresh grave seems normal, filled in with dirt and patted down carefully. The squirrel laughs to himself now, he must have tripped hit his head and dreamed the whole thing. That's what comes from watching late night zombie movie marathons. The back of his head is sore though and he reaches up to feel the lump and his paw comes away sticky. Damn he's bleeding, but it's not too bad and it's already clotting.

Gathering up the shovel he tugs off the light and stomps up the stairs. On his way towards the bathroom to clean up his bleeding head. A damp washcloth takes care of the sticky red mess in his fur and a band-aid to keep any more blood from making more of a mess. He sighs softly, it wouldn't do looking bad for his first play date. He wipes himself off and changes into a clean set of clothing. "Okay," He says with a sigh, "it's show time." Whistling to himself he marches up to the second floor and opens the playroom door. He can see the fox toy sitting there, still bound to his chair. "Hello there Sam, we're going to have lots of fun together." The boy just whimpers softly as the Squirrel smiles. The room is dark and Charlie flips the switch but nothing happens. The bulb must have gone out but there is enough light from the hallway for the man to see by. He prowls forward growling softly, in some circles the notion of a predatory squirrel would seem ludicrous but now it's an all to frightening reality. Charlie tugs the ropes from the boy's limp wrists, and he throws him rough face down onto the bed.

One practiced hand tugs at the boy's pants, pulling them down to his ankles even as he fumbles with his own belt buckle. Finally he lines up his cock with his toy's anus, he moans softly anticipating the moment. The boy is mint in the box it's going to feel so good to break him in. He pushes forward shoving deep in one long hard stroke. Immediately he notices something wrong usually at this point the toys make quite a lot of racket, this one merely whimpers and whines. On top of that he's loose, Oh it feels good to be sure but this isn't how a virgin ten-year-old boy-cunt should feel. He grunts annoyance building up, he doesn't even notice how cold and clammy the skin beneath the matted fur feels. "Your not a virgin." Growls Charlie. The whole day wasted. Second hand goods, he didn't want some bastards refurbished castoffs he wanted the brand new model. Well there's no use for it, he'd have to junk this one too and tomorrow he'd get a new one.

As the man pushes deep once again the little fox kit giggles, it's not a sound the man's used to hearing from a toy once he's got his dick in them. Then he hears another sound he'd heard once before but never from a toy in the playroom. The scraping, grinding noise of bone on bone as the fox kit's head snaps around at an angle impossible for anything living. "But Mr. I thought you liked playing with me."

Charlie recoils from that rigor-grinning muzzle as those vacant eyes stare back at him. His limp dick slips from his victim as he stumbles backwards. He closes his eyes muttering to himself "This isn't happening, this isn't happening. It's just a bad dream." But a loud cracking noise makes him open his eyes again. The dead fox boy has turned to face him, he's on all fours on the bed, head lolling slightly since this mockery of life can't overcome shattered vertebra. The dead have no need for modesty and the man's eyes seem drawn to the boy's immature erection. Rigor mortis can play cruel jokes it seems. Around the room though he spots the others now, worm eaten and grotesque. Decaying paws pull bodies too weak to support their own weight, better preserved corpses shamble out of the closet from the hall. There were so many of them, He didn't remember having this many toys.

Charlie recoils in horror as he notices the glint of silver in many of their rotted hands. Steak knives, carvers and butcher knives they'd grabbed every thing that could cut or stab. He tries to push his way through the flood of bodies towards the door. Trying to ignore the flashing steel. He screams as something sharp is pushed through his paw. The pain causes him to trip, falling face first into the plush carpeting just inches from the door. One of the dead children closing the door and as darkness falls over Charlie he stares up into the grinning faces. His toys weren't supposed play like this.

In the dark pitch-black room, screams seemed to echo on forever. Along with wet mechanical butcher shop sounds as blades are put to use as meat parts company with its host. Some participants are more enthusiastic then skilled, since the stiff fumbling paws are no longer able to hold a knife very well but that's just as well since their twisting grip seems to bring out the loudest and longest shrieks of pain. As one of the fumbling creatures takes a hold of the weapon the man had used to degrade them into mere playthings, the screams begin anew. The rough none to sharp serrated blade tearing through the root, one calm and cool voice whispers into Charlie's ear. The last toy, the only one fresh enough that it's vocal cords could still form words, repeats a phrase that the sound proofed walls had heard hundreds of times over the years. "Scream all you want no one will hear you."

It's three am when the police finally come to the house in the quiet suburb. At first they hadn't believed the boy who had show up at their station in dirty ragged pj's. They thought it must have been some Halloween prank, after all the story of being kidnapped and saved from his attacker by a dead boy couldn't have possibly been real. But as the details came out and he told them his name. Pieces started to click, there was no doubt that the boy was indeed Sammy Monroe the fox cub who'd never made it home from school that afternoon. But that had happened over in the next state. How had he gotten here? Could that really be blood on his clothes? Once the police got to the house there was little doubt this was the right place. Though they found the playroom and it's degenerate treasure trove of sexual toy's and cub porn covered in blood, little bits of flesh that was all they had found of Charlie. It was by no means all the found however as the shallow graves of the cellar had all recently been unearthed and the bones of so many lost little cubs laid bare for the entire world to see.