Footsteps of a Ghost
Preface: This was inspired by and is dedicated to ToraKuma (inspired by him again? I know but he is a really good writer!). I said I would write something happier but this story wouldn't get out of my head. It involves a fox modeled after Flame from a Fox (who I promised to write a story for, so this is dedicated to him as well), actually it is him so, yeah, credit him with the character, I just borrowed it to write this (the fox will be named Kit).
This story is not just sexually disturbing but also morally disturbing. Evil (if such a thing can be defined) does not feel the same way as that which we term Good. The antagonist in this story will have no redeeming light in his soul, he exists to show the perverted corruption that exists, somewhere, in all of us (though hopefully it has no bearing on your behavior).
He may make you horny and he may make you hurt. But that is his job. Read and comment but remember that I don't expect everyone to agree with me or like my work; I only ask that you attempt to understand what I say. Also, no one is making you read this so leave if you don't want to be freaked out.
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Footsteps of a Ghost
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The full moon rose silently over the city. It cast a single milky beam toward the Earth, like a whore letting her hair down. Whitish light cascaded over the grass and stones as the child huddled in the pitch colored shadows. Being a panther his fur was black, though now it was stained with shit, and secretions, and god only knows what else. He tried to steady his breathing as the wind whispered around him.
He tentatively took a step forward. No one who ran away ever returned. What happened to prey that fled, the master never spoke of. It was as if they simply ceased to exist. But the kid had grown tired of slavery.
He wanted his freedom back from the monster who had imprisoned him, raped him, degraded him, stole his life from him. Barely ten but brimming with fury, the panther had waited for his time. It had taken what seemed like forever but by scraping the chain against the floor he had managed to weaken it until with a good squeeze it had snapped.
The master was gone for the night, off to parade as a moral upstanding citizen. He didn't hesitate to show off his achievements in front of his abducted cubs. The master showed newspaper pictures of him winning medals for public improvement, awards for his help to end inner city hunger and gang problems.
And still the master kept his black flock, sequestered in the gloomy bowels of his basement. Caged and starved, and beaten and tormented.
The panther cub inched forward as a cloud shrouded the moon. He took off in a sprint across the yard. He knew the ivy on the far wall was thick and healthy. Perfect for climbing. The gentle gusts pushed him onward and his tiny chest swelled with hope.
As he hit the middle mark his paw came down hard. And the bear trap came up harder. He barely had time to scream as the metal jaws chomped his leg off at the knee and he fell. His little face hit the ground right in the middle of a second trap. It snapped shut like the closing of His tomb. The shiny metal teeth dug into the child's neck and crunched it off.
The night was still as the wind whooshed the smell of gore around. And the master watched. He trotted expertly between the metal maws, scattered beneath the high grass of the back yard. He had been disappointed. This one, this panther had shown the most promise. He had almost won his freedom. Ghost shook his head, moon beams reflecting off his fur. Such a pity now that he would have to destroy the body, and he had loved the perpetual tightness of the boy's tail hole, so warm and glorious, now it lay there: cold and still.
He sighed and lifted the dripping pieces of the body. He carried them back to the porch and tossed them into the big cast iron furnace. A little heat to dispel the evening chill.
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Kit shuffled through some papers in his car. Detective Kit to those who didn't know him intimately.
His partner Vern the stag was talking to some other officers, all of them smiling a little. Tonight had been a good one, the fox and his team had cracked the largest meth lab in the area and over 24 suspects had been detained.
But the fox spirit just felt like shit. Julie, a pretty young vixen officer who made big goo-goo eyes at the kitsune whenever he passed, had found another body. A victim of the serial killer who called himself: Ghost.
As per his method, the body was of a child, 8 years old this one though a 4 year old had been found a week ago, who had been savagely raped and maltreated. After a gruesome episode of forced sexual interaction, the child had been slammed into the ground until its skull broke open like an egg. Brain and cranial fluids spilling into the dirt.
Kit cringed as cold shivers rang through him. He could handle blood and guts, once the kitsune had been shot on a crack house bust, but something about the mutilation of children stuck him deeper than a knife. And the killer's name fit perfectly. There was never any evidence, no fur, no fibers, no body fluids. Nothing. It was like a ghost had murdered the child.
Kit grit his teeth and fists as sparks ignited around his paws. Being a fox spirit he could summon fire and had employed it against more than a view violent gang members who assumed his small size correlated to his power. Or sometimes he just used his martial arts background to break bones.
Kit felt even more furious as he looked back through the files. Ten years ago the first body had been found. Ten years ago the nephew of the kitsune's best friend had been molested and strangled, with the word Ghost carved into his penis.
The sickening crimes had continued, unchecked as Kit scrambled to catch the killer. But to no avail. There was no evidence. No leads. No proof.
Kit angrily threw the folders against the opposite door and waited as Vern opened the door, moved the papers, and got into the car.
"Goin' for beers at Jonesy's later. You up?"
"Fuck booze, there's a bat shit crazy bitch killing kids and you're just going to drink away your paycheck?"
"Kit, I know you're mad-
"Mad? Fuck mad, I'm pissed! We're supposed to be the best of the best and we can't catch this guy. It's been ten goddamn years and we aren't any closer."
The stag looked sorrowfully at the fox spirit. "Kit, as your friend listen to me. Yes I hate this guy; I want to catch Ghost as much as you. But it's late, and you need to relax."
"I'll relax when I'm dead."
"Who will catch Ghost then?"
Leaving Kit with the question, the stag walked off to another officer's car for a ride to the local pub.
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The stairs creaked ominously as Ghost descended them. His little doves whimpered and hid in their cages. He gave them a look over. What did he feel like tonight? Not otter or hawk. Not bear... Great Dane!
He smiled as he approached the last cage. The little boy's eyes looked up pleadingly. No doubt the other pets had told him stories of what the master did. Now it was time to break in this newest catch.
He grinned maliciously as he pulled a leash out of his pocket and unlocked the cage.
"Come here, boy." He said the last word with a tone of command. His gaze never leaving the child's. The pup huddled in the back of his cage but Ghost's strong paw wrapped around his throat and pulled him out. The leash was snapped on in a flash and the master dragged his slave up the stairs. The boy's shrieks and cries echoed into the soft walls. He pleaded and begged while the Ghost felt his cock harden.
He couldn't get enough of it. The sound of the boys screaming their lungs out as their virgin holes were torn open. How they begged for their mommies as he took them to bed. Their bodies were covered with gouges from his claws; Ghost was a biter and a scratcher.
But the power feeling was the best part. The surge of adrenalin through the brain as he raped the boys. He felt immortal, he felt like a god. And he was never going to let that feeling disappear. It had been hard, and hardening, these past years to keep his activities from the police. They didn't take to kindly to his midnight affairs but Ghost made sure to leave plenty of cleaned up bodies for them. Just to remind them that he wasn't leaving any time soon.
So meticulous he was. Bowels scrubbed, fur picked up, every angle scrutinized. So expert he was that if he desired it, Ghost could probably have gotten a job as a forensic examiner. Oh the sweet irony that would have possessed.
The dog was sobbing in full force. Yelping out his "No!"s as the master hauled him up to the bed room. The great Dane was roughly thrown onto the bed and he cried out for mercy. The master ignored him.
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Kit drove slowly home. He left the window down for some fresh air to clear his stomach. He had felt like a beer but his conscience wouldn't let him. He had sworn to his friend that he would find Ghost. Find that sick fucker and make him pay for what he did.
The fox stopped at a stop sign. He waited for moment, the street empty and quiet. He had always wanted to be a cop. Kitsune like him were naturally clever and naturally good at self defense with their minor mystical abilities. Kit had never trained his as much as his mother. She could change size and shape into various other creatures as well as create fires the size of infernos or as small as match sparks. Kit could change into a wasp or make a fireball. He never bothered with anything else; he figured he wouldn't need it.
He drove on for a little ways then stopped and pulled over. He took his phone and badge but left everything else in his car and locked it. He needed some fresh air to clear his mind.
He reviewed the sparse information as he walked. Ghost targeted male children, he always left them dead, and he had sex with them or at least violated them sexually. So a murderous pedophile with an expert's skill. Never a good combo.
One other thing was there. Kit had noticed this first. Ghost never left the bodies outside of this neighborhood.
Something about this place must be unique. All killers have mental quirks, whether they realize it or not. Kit just needed to find Ghost's. Kit figured this neighborhood was special to Ghost. Did he grow up here? Was he traumatized here? Or, and this was Kit's theory, did he live here?
The fox spirit stared up at the stars. Oh heavenly bodies, tell me what you've seen. Reveal the sins that we try to hide, the dark pleasures that cannot be performed beneath the sun. But if they saw anything, the sky's gems were quiet. Kit was all alone this case.
He cursed himself. Vern was an ok partner but the stag would rather get blown by the various ladies at Jonsey's than stay out late hunting a killer. He would rather wait till the morning to face the horrors of the night.
But the real reason Kit was out here was the connection he felt. Like him Ghost was smart. Dangerously smart. He examined situations from all points and took great pains to ensure his anonymity. This sick brilliance fascinated Kit and this fascination cut to the kitsune's heart. He couldn't bring himself to admit it but he admired the killer's expertise.
The fox spirit cracked his knuckles and small flames erupted from his paws. He wanted to burn Ghost, burn that bastard's face off and sear his skin inside out. But he would have to find him first. A game of hide and seek.
Kit kept heading deeper among the houses. They sat like fat toads among oceans of weeds and crab grass. Their windows were like glassy eyes, dead and locked in permanent stares at the world.
A stench, haunting yet subtle, caught the officer. He stopped at once and took a deep breath. Sharp vulpine senses analyzed the air. He recognized this smell from one of his first cases.
This was the sticky, smoky smell of a burning body. The closest morgue with an incineration chamber was almost eight miles away. Far too much distance for the smoky stench to carry, plus the morgue's vents were screened to keep the sickening smell inside. Who the fuck would be burning a body at 1:30 a.m. And why?
His nose to the air Kit took off.
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Ghost leered down at the child. The canine whimpered quietly. The other boys had told him what to expect. The master would put a muzzle on him. Then chain him to the bed. Then the whipping. The master would strike his ass with a leather whip until the hot red blood flowed freely. And the boy had better scream, the master expected him too. Then he tail hole would be taken. Raw and dry the master's cock would tear him open. Then just when he felt like he couldn't take any more, the master would shove his penis into the boy's mouth and salty white stuff would come out and the dog would choke on it.
The great Dane tried to curl up but Ghost pulled the leash. He tied it to the bed post as he pulled a box out from the bed. The boy tried to ignore the rusty blood stains on the sheets. Ancient fluids crusted and foul.
Ghost took out a muzzle and securely gagged the pup. He next removed some chains and held the struggling boy down as he tied him to the posts.
Ghost stood above the bed and looked down. He picked up the whip, tiny metal teeth glinting, and snapped it. The dog closed his eyes, trying to imagine himself elsewhere.
Ghost brought the lash down as hard as he could. The boy's eyes flew open with tears and he screamed. The whip tore skin, and flakes of epidermis and fur fluttered in the air. Laughing with deep booming breaths Ghost brought the leather down again. The lash soon grew bloody as the child thrashed and screamed. His wounded cheeks flung pin-line stripes of blood over the sheets, adding new crimson to the mix.
The master reveled in his power. His slave lay in gory anguish as he bled out through his ass and the sadist sunk his claws into pup's back. He dragged them down, eliciting fresh screams from the abused child. He could feel his balls boiling in their sac. His meaty pink boner had popped out of its sheath and quivered, fully engorged and ready for action.
Ghost lifted the bloody paw to his lips and licked it. The child's blood was sweeter than honey. He lapped and savored it, red droplets falling down his chin and onto his chest. The adrenalin high was getting going and his senses sharpened.
He whipped out his paw in the blink of an eye and slashed the boy across the face. The Dane's left eye was torn to pieces and the flayed skin hung as blood poured a new. The boy shuddered as his mind darkened but Ghost wasn't through yet.
The master climbed into bed and pushed the boy into the mattress. He spread the child's bloody cheeks and spat. He rubbed his throbbing boner in between the small furry cheeks as the Dane sobbed in shock. Ghost smiled down at the boy. "Best part is still to cum."
The master dug his claws into the pup's sides, drawing fresh blood again, and stabbed into his prey. The violent tearing of the boy's sphincter woke him up. His throat burned as he hoarsely screamed in the darkness. Ghost held on tight and tore his cock out before burying it again.
The great Dane howled in pain as his waist jerked and blood smeared itself over Ghost's waist and abs. Pulling out, the master rubbed his meat on the boy's back and used the blood as lube. The agonized howls rose like a murderous din and Ghost loved every fucking moment of it.
Grinding his crotch into the boy's ass Ghost could feel his climax growing. He panted and focused on the feelings in his balls. Achieving a Zen like state, his body shuddered and shook as he hit his orgasm. The thick meat spasmed inside the child and thick puddles of seed filled him, stinging the mutilated tissue.
The fiend rose and admired his work. He undid the bindings and pulled the leash. The Dane's limp body dragged across the floor by his neck as Ghost calmly left his den of sin.
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Kit stopped by a wall. Solid brick and almost twenty feet high, it secured a bigger house behind it. Here, here at this house. This was where the stench of burnt meat and molten body fat was coming from. His training told him to call in a police strike but his gut told him to go ahead anyway. Impulsively he ran up to the wall and, in mid stride, morphed into a wasp.
Buzzing he flew up and over the wall. He waited there on the top of the bricks as he surveyed the yard. Tall grass fluttered and it made him uneasy. There was nothing directly un ordinary about it; it was the same species of grass as every other house on the block, but kitsune senses told him this was a place of madness and pain.
Ignoring the numb feeling in his stomach Kit flew across the yard. The breeze buffeted his tiny form but his course didn't alter. He landed on the porch and switched back to kitsune. He swore in his head. All he had was his badge. That and his wits. The large glass door was dark as the house was silent. Kit approached cautiously.
Legally he had no right to enter. He needed a search warrant to enter a house, as well as probable cause. Somehow he doubted a hunch would be enough for a judge to grant a warrant, especially at this god awful hour of the morning.
Kit took another step forward and pressed a paw against the door. It slid open without a sound and the inside room was black as the sky. He stepped in holding his breath. The house seemed deserted and empty.
Then he smelled it. Shit and blood and fear. An unholy stench that seemed to ooze out of the walls. Kit remembered the smoky body smell and he stepped outside again. There was a furnace, a wood burning stove. His paws shook as he clicked it open and his lips froze and a silent howl brushed past his lips.
Within the metal case a healthy fire was glowing atop a body. With a cub-sized head starring out. Eyes charred and skull baked. Kit's stomach also wrenched itself out of his body but he swallowed and gripped his paws.
His anger rose in his chest. A hate he had not felt since the day he had to tell his friend of his nephew's death. Kit stepped back inside the house. He tried to ignore the smell as he walked through the hall and peered around. Empty as a fresh grave. He got to the main entryway by the front door, huge glass windows letting the moonlight pour in, when he heard the sharp creak.
Kit spun on his heels and looked up. There on the middle of the stair case was another fur, about his age, with blinding white fur. The moonbeams danced off the resident's muscled chest and twinkled in the blood drying on his body. His paw held a leash that was attached to a small body he was dragging.
An albino fur with eyes like cold blood. Crimson orbs that narrowed to slits as he glared at the officer while a deep bellow rose in throat. Kit barely had time to think as the fur lept down the stairs. He seemed to float as he moved, ethereal, immaterial. Ghost-like.
Kit felt a surge of hate and charged. He swung high which, predictably, the monster caught. As their paws touched Kit lashed out with his foot paws and sharp claws slashed the master's shin. The albino howled in sudden pain and shock. Never had he felt this. It had always been their pain not his.
Kit jumped and Ghost mimicked him. They moved toward each other, paws imitating each other like a synchronized ballet. The master's punch grazed Kit but the kitsune's jab caught the fiend in the ribs, blasting the air out of a lung. Gasping in pain Ghost feel to his knees as Kit ran.
He tripped as he ran to the back glass doors and his phone flew from his paws and clattered on the floor. He got up and sprinted for it but the master roared and tackled him.
They crashed to the floor together squirming. In the reflection of the glass, for the briefest moment, Kit couldn't tell who was who.
He swung a paw around and slit one of the monster's ears. Ghost screamed in pain as blood ran down his face.
Kit scooted out from under him and backed up standing. From his crouch Ghost lept and his paws closed around Kit's throat as they fell back. Kit thought just a moment faster than the fiend and drew his back paws to his body as he fell. Hitting the floor he rolled back pulling Ghost with him. As the master was lifted Kit lashed out. His strong foot paws smashed the monster in the stomach and sent him flying.
Physics can be a real bitch. An objection, or albino, in motion stays in motion until acted on by an unbalanced force. Ghost sailed through the air and through the thin glass door. His body stopped as it crashed to the dirt in the yard.
Time seemed to slow down for the briefest of seconds as the steel trap came up. Kit rose and felt paralyzed. He could only watch as the hungry metal mouths closed down on Ghost's head. The sight of the blood spouting up as the fiend's head split would haunt him forever. The master's shocked expression was identical to Kit's.
Shaking and twitching with adrenalin. Kit turned back and grabbed his phone.
"This is officer Kit requesting backup..."