Ricky: Pain in the Tail
This is a true story, though wrapped in furry characters rather than the humans that were involved. This was written at the request of Tobias Foxx, as a means of showing the pain and horror that is inherent in these situations, who wants this posted in this way so that these things can be recognized, and hopefully stopped. This is also written at Tobias's request, so that you know what you're about to read. A story of rape and mental rending.
You have been warned.
Ricky: Pain in the Tail
For TobiasFoxx
By Draconicon
He wasn't sure when it started, but some time back, the nightmares stopped happening when he was asleep, and started while he was still awake. Sometimes after dinner, sometimes before, sometimes just before he went to bed, but they always happened while he was awake. Sometimes, he hid from them. Sometimes, they found him anyway. Ricky still had the bruise just above his tail where they found him yesterday. He was trying to keep it down, now, hoping that they wouldn't find him again, that he'd have time to hide if they started coming.
His hands shook already, looking down at the floor. He barely saw the toys he was trying to play with, too focused on just breathing. Too loud, and the nightmare would hear. Nightmare. Nightmare daddy -
No, not daddy. Daddy wouldn't be mean like that. Daddy only gives me what I deserve. Nightmares hurt.
Ricky choked back a sob, knowing that it would be too loud. It'd be something wrong, something bad. He had to be quiet. He had to be quiet.
As long as he played, as long he was a good boy instead of a good...good anything else, he wouldn't get hurt. He had to be good. Had to be good. Good. Already racing, already panicking. He felt the sob rising again, and this time, he couldn't fight it. It escaped in a whimper, and he couldn't cover his mouth in time.
"Goddamnit, boy!"
A thump in the distance, and he shivered. Maybe...maybe it wouldn't be so bad, this time?
Thump, thump.
Maybe this time, it'd be Daddy, and not the nightmares again.
Thump, thump.
Maybe he could hide. The fox looked over to the pile of toys by the bed, then to the closet. He could hide, but if it was the nightmare, they'd find him anyway.
Thump, thump.
Too late. The door opened, and the red eyes of the nightmare looked down at him. It was Daddy, but not Daddy at the same time. Red eyes wrong, red eyes evil, red eyes bad, the older fox walked in, a beer bottle in his hand, the sour smell of his drink already in the air. Ricky sobbed again, too scared to move before Daddy grabbed him by the tail. His sob turned into a scream as he was yanked off of the floor, thrown against the closet so hard that the mirror broke behind him.
"Fucking bitch...whore..."
Ricky didn't move. He couldn't. Running was bad. Running would hurt even more when he got caught. He always got caught. Couldn't run, had to stay. Had to take his punishment. Earned it, after all.
He pulled his head up just in time to see the bottle coming down. It cracked across the side of his face, and he couldn't stop the scream.
"AAAGH!"
He hit the ground, curling into as tight a ball as he could, blood flying from the cuts on his cheek. Burning his eyes, blinding him. Red flood, not red room. Red flood, all over his face. It soaked his cheeks, burned like metal in his mouth, like a million pennies under his tongue.
"Whore...Spread your legs like your Momma..."
Momma. Momma did this. Could he...could he be good? He didn't want to do this, but no more hitting? Maybe? Maybe? Couldn't see, couldn't think. Words, hard, thoughts, harder.
Daddy picked him up, threw him against the bed. He still couldn't see, ground his cheeks against the sheets, trying to see something. Anything. Rough hands, too big for him pulled his pajamas down, stuffed them together at his ankles. His tail went up, held there, pinned against his back, something too hot, too stiff against his backside.
He huffed, puffing, shaking his head. Hard to think, but knew it was wrong. Momma did this. Saw it once, never wanted to see it again. Wrong, wrong, -
PAIN!
It hurt, it hurt so bad. Pressure, fire, burning. Something pushing into him, ripping, tearing. Blood, there was blood. So much blood, but not enough, making it stick as it pushed in. It. Couldn't say the word, couldn't think it, didn't want to think about what was going inside. What didn't belong inside.
Head shoved into the bed, no chance to scream. Nose feeling like it would snap. Hot blood pooling under his cheek, he opened his mouth, bit the pillow. Couldn't scream. Couldn't make a sound. Biting hurt, made his face hurt more, but pushed other pain away. Face hurt, other parts didn't. Not as much.
Couldn't think as it pushed in more, breaking, snapping, tearing things. Ricky whimpered, gasping, crying into the pillow. Didn't mean anything as the thing above him pushed down, hard weight on his back, soft in the wrong areas, so very hard, so very, very hard in worse areas.
Growls in his ears, words, didn't want to think of the words. Filled his head anyway, even as he bled out of the other end.
"Bitch. You're a bitch."
He pulled back, not much, just enough to rip a bit more. Then it was back in, another muffled scream into the pillow.
"Just a bitch."
Ricky couldn't think, didn't want to think. Thinking hurt. Thinking made it worse. Just take it. Take it like everything else. Fists, bottles, burns. More, more, anything to not think about this. Just think about -
Can't think, not when it burns. Hole hurts, body hurts. No screams, no whispers, just pain as the weight gets heavier and heavier. Thing on him, pressing down, belly against his back, almost breaking his tail, it sliding in again and again. Not sliding. Ripping, breaking, forcing, bursting, punching its way in.
Be someone else.
Only thing he could think. Only thing that could save him. Not be him. Not be here. Not be under this. Not be...not be...
Be someone else. Anyone else.
Ricky didn't know what happened, but...he fell backwards. Backwards, out of his head. Things falling further away. Something else feeling it. Not him, not the same. Fire still there, pain, burning, agony, wrong. So wrong, but not as strong. Better, but not right.
Ahead of him, something different. A girl. Something like a girl, too much not like him to be a boy. It - she - was different. She whimpered, but talked back to the thing on his back, whispered back to it.
"Hurt me."
It was his lips, but not him. Ricky shook, panting, gasping, pulling up in a little ball in his own head. It was so wrong, so not right, but he couldn't stop her. Couldn't do something to make it end. He couldn't step forward again. Not now, not when that was still happening. The thing, using it, doing that. He couldn't face it. Could do anything.
So he watched. Watched as she took it. Watched as they took it, her hurting as the thing hurt them. He shuddered, arms wrapped around his legs, not saying anything, not thinking anything for almost a minute as 'watched' it happen around him. He saw them get hurt, saw her beg for more, wanting it all.
Can't say anything, can't be seen. Have to stay quiet, have to stay hidden. She wants it. She deserves it. She wants the pain, she asks him to hurt her. She needs it.
Shared body, different person. Different person, not him. Not him getting it, asking for it, needing it. All her. Didn't have to be like that, would never be like that. Always her, not him. Always her, not him.
It still hurt. Hurt all night, even after the thing spurted hot stuff inside, painful and grinding, almost making her scream. The weight off, the pain still there. The thumping away, the pain staying. More than ever, more hurt, more everything than any other nightmare before, any other punishment.
Ricky couldn't move forward. He stayed there, whimpering, crying, his tail curled around him as the girl pulled herself onto the bed. Pajamas were left behind, their feet covering a bloodstain where they'd been shoved down. He could vaguely feel blood running down from their butt to their...other parts. Their it.
Just thinking of that was disgusting. No, wrong, bad, no, no, no! The girl pushed it away, and he was happy to go along. Didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to be like the thing. Anything to not be like that.
He whimpered, but when the girl in his head reached back, he lashed out. He fought, he pushed her down. He slammed her to the floor of their mind. She didn't fight back. Didn't do anything to stop him. Just begged for more, like with the thing.
Ricky gave it to her. He hurt her, punched her, choked her. He squeezed her throat, staring right into her eyes as he screamed in the deafening silence of their mind. She took it, she begged for it...
She took his punishment...
And that was the most unforgivable thing of all.
Smashing her against the floor again and again, doing it until she stopped talking, until she stopped begging. He couldn't take it. Couldn't take the idea of her living after she put them through this. No matter what she did, no matter how it stopped it from being him there, it couldn't continue. He couldn't let that live. She begged for it. That wasn't right. Couldn't...couldn't...
When it was done, it was quiet again. He was in his head again, at the front. The pain came rushing back, no longer held at bay. He hugged himself, biting the pillow again and again. Not to stop crying...just to bite. Bite. Bite.
The End