The Monster in the Maze
#13 of Reflections on a Rat
They'd started saying the corn maze was haunted.
That was ridiculous, of course--not least because demons were way more likely than ghosts, especially around Hallowe'en, and nobody was reporting the maze to be possessed.
But there was something lurking at night in the remote corners of the corn, a sudden danger that would feed at random, befouling the paths and sending the patrons of the maze back to their last save points.
Naturally this made the whole attraction very popular with anyone who could afford it as the holiday approached; since the profits were being donated to charity, it almost felt ungrateful to complain.
Yet while it was a win for the charity, a win for the estate that hosted the maze, and a win for my boss who managed to come home with considerably more than the minimum wage I was stuck with, I still had to count it a loss for myself, the poor rabbit who had to keep the maze in order, including cleaning up the prodigious piles of shit the maze monster left behind.
(I hope you'll forgive me for being blunt about that. After the first couple of weeks, I'd grown real tired of the literal muckraking.)
Tonight was Hallowe'en; while the maze would probably be open till Thanksgiving, I hoped that whoever was 'haunting' it would move on once it was no longer cool for it to be scary.
If only I could have been so lucky.
I hadn't encountered the monster myself, yet. With most of tonight's guests arriving in their Hallowe'en costumes, my anxiety levels were high: each strange face turning a corner raised the what if, the worry I might end up the uninvited guest's meal.
Being restored to a save isn't too expensive in this country, but when you don't have a lot of income, it can easily mean trouble making rent.
I carried my litter bucket down the endless rows of the corn maze, picking up after candy wrappers and popcorn bags and shed costume accessories as the evening darkened. As my round led me to one of the maze's exits, I unloaded the bucket into one of the big trash cans and sat down for a break.
A trio of badgers in cowboy costume strolled out, leaning on each other like they'd been drinking too much.
A child's cry of alarm rose above the fringes of the corn, and a few moments later a mother rabbit came out with the little screamer in tow.
As soon as she spotted me, I knew my break was over. This was not a person who'd come prepared for a monster in the maze. Had he--had he eaten a child? It wasn't the way the monster usually worked, but what kind of rabbit only has one kid? Wait, was that specist? Or, no, sexist--a woman can have as few children as she damn well pleases and has no obligation to carry them with her at all times in any case.
EXCUSE ME, she yelled, and I realized I hadn't been listening as she went on about the massive pile of shit her little girl had almost stumbled into.
"Sorry," I said, wishing I had any customer service skills at all. "Um, I'll get right on that."
She snorted and left; I hoped she wasn't going to rat me out to the manager. But whatever. I took my bucket and headed back into the maze.
I took my bearing from where I'd heard the scream, and it wasn't long before I caught the scent of the mess and followed it to where actually a comparatively small mound of dung had been left by someone who was almost certainly not the maze monster as I recognized them.
Ugh. One unknown defecator in the workplace was enough without it becoming a trend.
I sighed, scooped the mess up into my bucket, and turned to go dump it out.
And immediately ran into The Monster.
An enormous rat loomed over me--it must have been nearly seven feet tall, and was wide enough to fill my whole vision, though the fact that I was staring point blank at its gut surely helped. It wore the tatters of what was probably once a nice suit but now failed even to cover the beast's privates, which, yes, were huge and would certainly have been more distracting if I didn't also have the matter of the rat's drooling maw over my head.
"Please don't eat me tonight," I said. "I can't afford it."
The monster blinked and picked me up with one massive paw--no mean feat, considering that I'm a bit on the heavy side myself. "What will you offer me instead?" he asked, deep voice carrying an unexpected Australian accent, dark eyes staring into mine.
I can make an offer? That was encouraging, at least, though I wasn't sure what I had to offer that monstrous rats in corn mazes would exactly be interested in. Well, I mean, obviously the porn-flick option of surrendering to that big cock came to mind, but you try and bring that up when you're both at work and fearful for your life.
"I don't know, boss," I said. "I just... I'm just here to clean up after you, it's my job."
"Your job, you say." Those dark eyes glistened. "Far be it from me to get between a working rabbit and his duties."
His gut let out an astonishingly loud gurgle, betraying the presence of what had surely been a large meal for him.
"As a matter of fact," he added, "I think I've got a bit of a job here for you now."
Hunger hit me like a hammer from the blue, and I curled up in the rat's grip, clutching at my belly.
"Ah... Sensitive little thing, aren't you? Let me try a lighter touch..."
He put me down at his feet, and I suddenly smelled the musk off his balls, a masculine aroma more intense than any I had ever encountered. At work and fearful for my life or not, it absolutely felt like the most natural thing in the world that I should run my tongue over every inch of that ballsack that was probably bigger than my head.
So I did.
And it tasted amazing.
The sounds from the rat's belly came back again, even louder, and he reached down to pull my head back by the ears. "All right, my little cleanup crew, breaktime is over. Time to get to work."
And I was hungry again.
Some part of me knew I was being manipulated, knew the rat was planting thoughts and sensations in my mind, knew that I should...care? Or try to stop it?
But that wouldn't have been right. I had a job to do, after all. And, of course, I was hungry anyway.
I followed my appetite to the back of the rat, where a tail thick as my torso snaked out over the round swells of the rat's ass.
Here to clean up, I thought, lifting that tail over my shoulders and pressing my nose deep between those cheeks, Not gonna leave any mess behind.
My nose found the rat's hole, enormous and redolent of all his musk plus the scent I knew would satisfy my hunger. I gave it a tentative lick--and at the first taste of the flavor I buried my face deeper in that hole, eager for more. I'd squander my whole paycheck for a chance at this, I thought. But they're actually paying me!
I felt the rat's big hand at the back of my head, pushing me in deeper. "Best be bracing yourself, toilet. It'll come on strong."
With a little schlk noise the rat's anus closed around my neck, securing me in place like a hungry buttplug. Toilet, he said--that's me, all right. Professional toilet... Hungry...
And suddenly, in the darkness of his ass, it was time to work.
The first log of shit hit me before I was ready, squelching against my face and into the corners of my nose. I opened my mouth quickly, as wide as I could, and let the onrushing scat flow into my maw.
It smelled foul. It tasted foul. And I knew it was the remains of some hapless mazegoer who didn't have as much good fortune with the rat as I did.
And yet the stink and the muck lit up every pleasure center in my brain, and I ate gluttonously from the rat, sometimes letting the force of his intestines cram thick turds down my throat to my waiting stomach, sometimes chewing and savoring every last piece as I swallowed it down--I was hard at work, and without even realizing it I was actually hard, jerking my stubby cock even as the flow of shit came to an end and the rat pulled his ass off my head, leaving me a filthy mess.
The bitter aftertaste of the job was in my mouth as I continued to jerk myself, just sitting there in the middle of the maze path rubbing my full belly and feeling like an absolute toilet tank.
The rat bent down and murmured in my ear: "Till tomorrow."
Then he was gone.
Yet some of his influence lingered--in my body, though not in my mind. I couldn't help but keep jerking off, even though I knew I was on the clock and covered in filth in a public place. I couldn't help but pull off the shit that was stuck in my headfur, chew it up, and swallow it down bit by bit, even though I tried with all my will to resist the disgusting deed.
And I couldn't help but rub my full belly as I blasted my load into the corn, knowing it would all happen again tomorrow.