Viral Attack: Nostalgic Interlude
Commission for Bolshevictor
"You find anything yet?"
"I'll tell you when I do. Be patient."
The sleek back SUV, designed to be inconspicuous, merged into oncoming traffic and slowly trundled to a halt as it was blocked by other cars, stuck in a long lane of vehicles. Most of them were looking to get home, but these two people were just looking to drive around. They had their own goals.
At the wheel was a pig of impressive stature, with a large gut and even larger muscles. He had barely squeezed into the seat of the SUV and he was glad that, of all things, they had given him a big car to drive. If he had to fit himself yet another small car, he might just smash it to bits. He was already cramping a little from having drove around for several hours, but the almost insufferable deer sitting beside him made it worse.
"How hard can be it to just find some unexploded canisters, Eracervine?" The pig remarked sourly, already in a bad mood from a certain Rottweiler's sharp tongue earlier. The deer scoffed, his eyes closed and his hands on his lap.
"You'd be surprised how hard it is to focus on specific molecules amongst millions of others...especially when someone keeps impatiently nagging in your ear," Eracervine sounded calm, though there was a slight hint of irritation in his tone. "Just keep your eyes on the road, Outliner."
The pig grunted in response, and the traffic finally moved. He trundled the car forwards and took the nearest turning, cruising down a small slope until they reached the main city streets. If he had to stay on the highway for another minute, he might just lose his mind.
Outliner wished to be anywhere but here right now. The whole operation made him nervous, in fact. Top Dog, the shady Rottweiler with a dark side, was always known for micromanaging every situation, but Outliner never thought he'd pull the government's strings and let a convicted murderer out of jail, just for the sake of saving lives. Of course, Outliner wanted the terrorists stopped as much as any hero, but there were lines you didn't cross. This was one of them. It wasn't just Eracervine that had him on edge, however: it was Joey. He knew he was with Top Dog right now, and the thought of that made him strengthen his grip around the wheel. He didn't want the boy anyway near that man.
Top Dog's influence had already happened, and Outliner had seen it. It was 2 weeks ago that Outliner's sister, Rebecca, had insisted they throw a little get-together for Joey and his family, as a thank you for saving Outliner's life, as well as Joey saving him in kind some 10 months before, when the terrorists first attacked. Eracervine and Joey had spent the last 2 months meticulously healing every available victim of the viral attack as Outliner and other superheroes had tried desperately to keep up and coming villains at bay in the meantime. The incapacitated heroes from the attack, coupled with their eyes elsewhere, had created a peculiar 'power vacuum' for some time that was now only just beginning to iron out into some thin balance. It was typical of Rebecca to have just the right timing in that regard.
Outliner had been fervently against it: he wasn't a people person, and never had been. He was only a hero because of this power he had coursing through his veins-- it was an outlet. He didn't want to know Joey's family, because he almost didn't want to further cement the idea that Joey was just a kid. He was more than a rat with a mask: he was a human being who was exploited every day, and welcomed it.
Yet, the dinner had happened anyway. Rebecca had always been a good host, in a 'middle aged woman with a lot of money' sort of way: she cared more about her own appearance than the actual get-together, but Outliner didn't mind. He knew his sister was a little vain, but he liked to think that she had a good heart-- she was raising his son, after all. The dinner had been about as awkward for Outliner, referred to as Wayne in that instance, as he could expect, where some simple words were minced between the two families as Rebecca orchestrated everything. When the night was inevitably over, Joey had taken Wayne aside and thanked him again for meeting his parents. Joey's sincerity had made him flustered, but it was then that Top Dog's influence became clear: Joey had put his hands on him. Sexually.
Wayne rejected him, of course, which only upset Joey just a little bit, and Outliner felt nothing but guilt for that situation every time he reminisced on it. Mixed in with that guilt with a quietly simmering rage at the man who had made Joey the way he now was. He was pretty certain that Top Dog knew his loathing, too-- but there was nothing that Wayne could do about it. Outliner was trapped in a cage, the threat of the slaughterhouse looming over his head. He couldn't be selfish, not when he had his son to think about.
"I think I got something. Maybe," Eracervine suddenly spoke, cutting through his thoughts. "Pull over here and give me a minute."
With a grunt, Outliner turned the wheel and pulled into a small parking lot in the industrial estate. They were near a series of factories, and Wayne killed the engine, allowing them to sit there in silence. He relaxed his hands on the wheel and sighed through his porcine nostrils. The car was quiet. Eracervine didn't move a muscle, lost within his own mind, reaching out to the world around him. Outliner wished he had that level of concentration.
He recognised where they were. They were sitting outside an old cement factory that had long since been abandoned, and Outliner felt a strange nostalgia wash over him.
He had nothing to do but wait, so all he could do with reminisce.
x x x
Wayne grew up hungry. Hungry, and powerful.
To say that his mother was a horrible person would have been the understatement of the year. Shortly after Wayne was born, their father disappeared from their lives, wanting nothing to do with his two children, Wayne and Rebecca. His absence left his mother wanting, and she took out her frustration on what she perceived to be the thing that tore her husband from their life: her son.
Emotion was a rare thing growing up. It wasn't to say that he didn't feel it-- in fact, he was a torrent of emotions at all times, primarily anger and resentment. But his mother, who had mentally snapped beyond repair, mocked any showing of emotion. She had become bitter and sour, violent and aggressive. If Wayne so much as scowled, he could be hit. If he so much as cried, he'd be hit harder. Wayne quickly learnt to keep his face a blank slate, for fear of his mother's wrath.
His mother's attitude stemmed beyond that of the house: she jumped from job to job, filing lawsuits and claiming discrimination and disrespect from her co-workers and employers alike. Each one fell through on grounds of lack of evidence or flat-out lying, and she quickly began to accrue debts she could not longer pay easily. Money became tight, to the point where she opted some days to not feed her children, and many nights were spent without indoor heating or electricity. Wayne wasn't the only one who suffered: Rebecca underwent such scrutiny as well, but she at least had an outlet too: she took out her frustrations on Wayne, who wanted nothing more than a happy life, free from hate.
When he turned 14, everything changed. Whether it was his hormones that triggered it, or the rage and resentment from undergoing such torture for long periods of time, a birthmark formed on his back. It was perfectly square and angular, the interior of the square a mess of lines. At first, his mother thought he'd gotten a tattoo, and she was beyond furious. There was nothing he could have done to avoid her wrath, and her cruel beating of his body left him battered and quiet for the days to come.
Everything came to a point on one fateful day at school. He was quieter than usual, though no-one knew why, and the local bullies thought it might be fun to pick on the quiet, fat kid for a change, assuming he couldn't fight back. They cornered him around the back of the school building and picked up rocks, throwing them at him from either point-blank range or at a dizzy distance, enough to at least hit their mark. His skin became bruised, and his emotions overflowed. In an instant, an anger wrapped around him, and the 'tattoo' that sat on his back, just on his right shoulder blade, expanded. It grew to cover his entire body, until his pink skin was a mesh of black lines. In the moment, he couldn't control himself. If his suddenly different appearance hadn't scared the bullies enough, the fact that Wayne lifted a car and hurled it at them definitely would have.
He knew he was strong now. Stronger than his mother, stronger than anyone. No-one could hurt him again. It was then that he made his choice to leave home, picking homelessness over the cruel sneer of his mother's gaze, and neither her nor his sister stopped him. Wayne quickly fell into a crowd of other homeless youths, who had made their den in an abandoned cement factory on the outskirts of the city. There, Wayne finally felt at home. He felt wanted.
"And stay out!" Wayne grunted, roaring in fury at a shrivelled man with scalpels for fingers. The man scooted back, his lab coat in tatters, his eyes wide with surprise.
"A...A super? What the hell is a super protecting these kids for?!" The man babbled to himself, scrabbling to his feet, his breathing low and shallow. He had a mask covering his muzzle, his sharp fox-like eyes darting left and right. The gaggle of kids kept behind Wayne, who stood in front of them, the tattoos swirling around his body. His shirt was discarded on the floor, and he didn't mind his gut hanging out. If anything, it helped to intimidate his foes.
"Dumb brat!" The man flung out a scalpel at Wayne, but the tattoos reacted instantly. The scalpel connected with Wayne's skin as the tattoos covered the spot, blocking it from piercing his flesh. The scalpel clattered to the floor, joining several others.
With a short, frustrated 'tch', the man backed out and turned, running towards the entrance of the cement factory and making his way back through the door, taking his leave. Wayne blew a relaxed sigh and was glad that he was gone: the man wasn't at all difficult, but he was creepy. There was always a villain or two looking to pick up homeless people from the streets, using them for experiments and the like. Wayne wished he could help all of them, but the most he could do right now was protect those around him: the homeless kids, who had made him feel like he belonged.
"Nice! You scared him off, Wayne. Good job." One of the boys, a short mouse, patting Wayne's side where his flabby flesh was, and Wayne merely grunted, feeling his cheeks redden in embarrassment.
"I-It's fine...I just wanted to help." The pig remarked quietly. Suddenly, there was a creak. The door was opening again. The boys immediately moved behind Wayne once more and the pig grimaced. Was the man back again? Didn't he get enough of a beating the first time?
No. It was someone new. After a few moments, a figure emerged from the doorway: a reptile, clad in a form-fitting suit with a long tail that it kept above the ground. It's blue jumpsuit bore an insignia: a wave of some sort, crashing against a rock. The reptile slowly stepped forwards, a hood and mask covering most of its features, until it stood several metres away from Wayne and his group.
"...So, you're the one," The figure remarked quietly, looking Wayne up and down. "You drove away that pile of trash?"
"T...The scientist guy?" Wayne blinked absently.
"Yeah, he drove away that heap o' garbage! What an asshole!" One of the other kids chimed in, and the other boys and girls clamoured their approval. The suited figure stood there silently, before their gaze fixed itself upon Wayne once more.
"You show considerable promise for a boy your age. I'd guess you to be...14? 15?" They paused for a moment again, before speaking. "Do you want to be a hero? I can make that possible."
"A...hero?" Wayne frowned. "What, like a superhero?"
"Precisely," The reptile nodded its head and held out a hand towards a nearby barrel. "I am Slipstream. A hero as well, by all merits."
The reptile twisted its turquoise-scaled hand, and the water that had been sitting inside the barrel, which they used to collect rainwater, suddenly flew up into the air. With a flick of the reptile's fingers, the water twisted in the air, forming perfect geometrical shapes, from a cube to a pyramid, even to a perfect sphere. As they lowered their hand, the water fell back into the barrel, with not a drop spilt.
"I've been requiring someone with a stronger touch than I for some time. Would you be prepared to work for me? I can provide you accommodation, food, and the teaching necessary to be a hero of reputable stature." They spoke eloquently, like a person of class, and Wayne shifted on the spot. It was a tempting deal, if only for learning to be a hero. Wayne wanted to help others: when he did, they praised him, and thanked him. Being a hero was important, and protecting those he cared about mattered to him. It was for that reason as well that he didn't know if he could take them up on their offer. If he did, who would protect the kids behind him?
"I see you need some time. I'll come back again in a week. If you're still here, I will give you the same question." They turned on a heel and made their way towards the door, calm and serene, without a care in the world. The mystery that shrouded them was tempting: Wayne wanted to know more, but at the same time, his compassion pulled him back. He watched as the figure left without a word, and the cement factory fell silent.
"Y...You're not actually thinking of going with them, are you Wayne?" One of the kids suddenly spoke, and Wayne turned to him, eyes wide with surprise.
"I mean...I could protect people, and..." Wayne trailed off as he saw the expression of some of the other homeless kids.
"Sure, but what about us? Are you gonna protect us when you're going off and saving other people?" One of the older kids, older than Wayne, even, pointed out. "We'll be left in the dust...and without you backing us up, we'll be in trouble."
"Everyone knows you're with us now. They won't bother us if you're here, but if you're not...we'll be an easy target." Another pointed out.
"They said they were gonna give you...what, a place to live? You've got this place, right here," Another quipped. "Plus, they'll probably just put you back with their shitty mom."
"Please don't leave." One of the younger homeless kids, barely 10 years of age, tugged at Wayne's hand and looked up at him with beady eyes and a quivering lip.
Wayne was torn. He was too naive to see that they were manipulating him so they could stay safe, or perhaps he just didn't want to see it. Instead, he took their words at face value, accepted them as truth. No hero had the power to just give someone a place to live on the spot, plus he was still a child. If he went back into the system, he'd be at the mercy of his mother once more, and he didn't want that. Furthermore, they were right: if he was elsewhere, his friends would be easy pickings for the most horrible people of the city.
"I..." Wayne sighed through his nose and one of the boys patted his shoulder.
"Just relax, Wayne. Have a drink, yeah?" A drink, in that instance, meant more than just a bit of water or a sugary soft drink. It was alcohol-- one of the several bottles they had managed to steal. Wayne never really liked to steal. He'd punched open a few ATMs for the boys on a number of occasions, because money was necessary to live, but stealing alcohol was another matter. He didn't like it when they did it, but his teenage hormones and angst drove him to help them regardless, until he was the one stealing and drinking the contents of their haul. Getting drunk was the only way he could feel normal sometimes.
At their recommendation, Wayne decided to take a bottle and chug it. One bottle became two, then three, and it continued late into the night as the rest of them partied and laughed with each other. They dragged Wayne into their antics as one of them put on the little radio they had stolen from a convenience store. The rhythmic beats kept them up into the late hours, until their bodies were tired and all they could do was sit and wait for sleep to take them.
Wayne was never a heavy sleeper, as much as he wanted to be. He was too stressed about protecting his friends to sleep very well, wanting to wake up at any passing moment, just in case he was needed. Even when he was drunk, that resolve coursed through him, making him restless at night. The other kids, however, were content to sleep easy, knowing Wayne was protecting them.
One such individual was a young 11 year old boy who, even looking back on it, Wayne was sure was a true, genuine friend. He had a heart of gold and warmed up toe Wayne quite quickly when they came to know one-another. He was an armadillo, with a hard plated shell, stumpy limbs and a happy face. He was a shining sun on an otherwise dark night, and he was warm. Even on nights like this, the boy known as Renfred loved to curl up against Wayne's belly.
The pig groggily reached out his arm out, curling it around the armadillo's body and tugging him a little closer to him. He groaned quietly under his breath and grazed his mouth against Renn's cheek as the armadillo giggled tiredly against his side, his stubby hands and fingers gripping against the 14 year old's stomach.
"Mm. You're so soft, Wayne." The armadillo quietly remarked, giggling as he felt the pig's mouth grazing his cheek, giving him the occasional peck and kiss. The 11 year old wasn't so naive as to not know what Wayne's intentions were, but he was mostly just enjoying his company too much to capitalise on it. All things aside, Wayne was keen to continue.
"So are you." Wayne muttered, his voice slurred, the fact that he was drunk evident by the way he moved his hands and the way he spoke. His hand danced down Renn's body, until it touched with his hip, stroking against the boy's shorts that he wore. His hand slowly curled around and began to fumble, toying with the waistband of Renn's shorts. The armadillo squirmed a little, a sigh escaping his lips as Wayne's fingers inevitably sunk inside and met with his humanoid member. He felt the pig's clumsy tugs and he pushed his hips against Wayne's body, quivering under his touch.
Neither of them said a word: they simply squirmed in the dark, the rest of the kids long since asleep. They touched and stroked each other, but ultimately, it was Wayne doing most of the work. The armadillo eventually moved, sliding his way down Wayne's body and touching with his stomach as he went. Wayne's hand moved from the armadillo's side and watched him with bated breath as Renn moved towards his crotch, getting down onto his hands and knees.
He wrestled with the button of Wayne's tight pants, loosening them enough for him to get access to what lay beneath. Wayne's young, erect cock stood to attention in the cold, midnight air, and Renn curled his scaley hand around the member, feeling it warmly pulse and throb against his touch. A hand trailed up to stroke Wayne's bulging gut, before the armadillo's own head bowed down, heading lower and lower, until his lips and tongue met with Wayne's cock.
The pig grunted, his body tensing up in an instant as Renn's mouth bowed easily on his 4 inch length, swallowing it up into his warm muzzle. Wayne felt the prehensile tongue curling around his member, its surface a little sticky and slick with spittle, and Wayne shuddered as he felt that tongue easily pumping his member back and forth, peeling back his foreskin as the armadillo bobbed his head. In the dark of the night, the young 11 year old gave his protector a blowjob, and Wayne cherish every aching moment of it, despite being drunk. He had a good memory that way.
"Mmmh...keep going..." Wayne urged, his breathing growing slow and heavy. Even in his drunken state, with his cheeks flushed and his vision hazy, he knew he had to be quiet. he kept his mouth as closed as he could and tried to steady his breathing, keeping his moans to a minimum, but Renn was doing wonders to his cock that he simply couldn't ignore. He could already feel a familiar tugging inside of him, and pleasure washed over him as he instinctively placed a hand on Renn's head, pushing his head down further.
Letting his lust take over, the 14 year old slowly bucked and rolled his hips, keeping Renn's head against his body as he humped his hips and fucked the boy's mouth, his breathing slow and ragged, the quiet sounds of their wet, lewd action filling the air. He rolled his hips just a little faster, keeping a pressure within him forming, growing steadily tighter and tighter. After a few moments, it was all over.
A sigh escaped his lips, as he loosened his grip, his cock violently throbbing and unloading his orgasm into the armadillo's mouth. He could feel that tongue around him still, idly stroking his climaxing cock as the seed shoot right into the back of the armadillo's throat, where it was quickly gulped down, any evidence of their lewd act hidden away in his belly. After a few moments of quiet suckling, Wayne's orgasm began to face, and Renn slowly eased himself up, crawling back into the same position as before, as if nothing had happened. To Renn's surprise, Wayne had already fallen asleep.
Wayne remembered this memory far too well. He remember the way Renn had smelt, the way he had tasted when he kissed him, his quickening heartbeat as their hands roamed. It was a fleeting memory he'd cherish forever, and he was left to wonder where the boy was now.
His memory rushed forwards to the inevitable day when Slipstream returned. It had started out normal for most of the boys, but Wayne had been on edge. He knew it was the day that Slipstream would return. The day he would disappoint them with his answer. They didn't come until the afternoon, near enough 5pm, and they looked the same as the first time Wayne had seen them: in that same blue jumpsuit, hooded head and long turquoise tail.
"Have you made your decision?" They had asked him, and Wayne had regretfully told them that he planned to stay with his friends, because they needed him. He had expected them to be disappointed, but they were instead amused by his response.
"You're weak."
A twinge, a stab echoed through the back of Wayne's mind. Weak? He was weak? He'd protected his friends for so long on his own. They were grateful to him for doing so. If he could fend off villains, he was far from weak.
"You were weak then, and you are weak now." Slipstream was in front of him again, hitting him with those same piercing, mysterious eyes. Their voice reverberated around him, from all sides, as if they were both in front of him and everywhere else at once, voices overlapping across one-another.
"You can't protect your friends. You can't protect anyone. You can't even protect one child against a predator. What makes you think you're anything but pathetic and worthless?"
No. This wasn't right. They wouldn't say those things. Something was wrong-- this wasn't what his memory was.
Slipstream was there again, but also not. They phased in and out of existence, their movements jagged and angular, as if someone were picking random times in a video, back and forth. Slipstream moved from tugging at their suit to standing still, to undressing completely.
They zapped forwards, mere inches from Wayne's body, and the pig was greeted to the sight of their naked body, their turquoise scales and flaccid cock. He couldn't remember much of what Slipstream had been like. They were mysterious, yet confident. They gender and identity were a mystery. Wayne had never seem them naked, so why could he imagine it now?
"You cannot stand to look at me, because I am a reminder of the failure you've yet to overcome." The voice resounded in his mind, louder than before, and Wayne found himself visibly wincing, clutching his 14 year old head. His legs buckled and he landed hard on his knees. It needed to stop. He wanted it to stop.
"Worthless."
"Weak."
"Pathetic."
The words swarmed around him, filling his conscious thoughts with nothing but dark and negative emotions. He turned his head to the children behind him, and they stood there, watching him with soulless eyes. He reached out to Renn, calling to him, but the armadillo vanished, along with the others. The light around him receded and the dark swallowed him whole, leaving him in nothing but a pit of darkness.
"Your wife left you because you're weak. Your friends abandoned you because you're weak. You're too pathetic, too small and insignificant, too selfish to raise your own son. You're a disgrace. Worthless. Useless."
"Shut up." Wayne trembled. Stop. Stop. Please, stop.
"Useless." The word reverberated again. "Pathetic."
"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up..."
"Your son will die because of you."
"SHUT UP!"
x x x
"Get out of my fucking head!"
Wayne bellowed at the top of his lungs, his voice bouncing around inside the car as the very ground around him shook with the force of his fury and frustration. It wasn't until he looked in Eracervine's direction and saw his horrified face that he realised he'd said it out loud.
"What, you nod off there, big guy? Had a bad dream?" Eracervine quipped with a light hint of irritation in his voice, and Wayne glared in the deer's direction.
"The only bad dream here is having to babysit you." Wayne sourly commented back, with a lot more venom than he had initially intended. Well, the deer deserved it. He was a child predator.
So was he.
"Well excuse me, princess," The deer retorted. "Some of us are actually useful here, unlike you."
It was the wrong thing to say at exactly the wrong time. Wayne darted his fist out, the tattoo's crawling over his knuckles at his hand connected with the windshield. The glass shattered in an instant, breaking into a million pieces, filling the air with the sound of breaking glass. Eracervine's eyes widened as he turned towards Wayne, who suddenly shifted in his seat and leant over the gear stick, until his face was inches from Eracervine's own.
"Shut the fuck up, or Wind Rider will have to scrape your brain off the inside of this car." Outliner didn't know why he'd said it, but he felt as if he were at the end of his tether. He couldn't quite piece together why he was being so cruel-- these were the words of a villain, not a hero. In the back of his mind, he begged himself to calm down, but he seemed unable to.
The most he could do was heave himself back and get out of the car. Unfortunately, in his anger, he didn't realise his own strength. He pushed the door open and it flew off its hinges, sailing several metres forwards before landing in a heap at the far side of the car park. He brushed his frustration aside and heaved himself out of the car, thankful for heaving the ability to stretch his legs, and he breathing in the cool air, letting the freshness of it fill his lungs.
"Whose stick got shoved up your ass, huh?" Eracervine wasn't backing down, it seemed, and he'd also gotten out of the way, moving around until he was on Wayne's side of the vehicle. "I get it, you feel helpless, but don't go taking it out on me!"
"You know nothing about how I feel!" Wayne shouted back. "You have it easy. You've got a super duper power that makes you practically unstoppable, and a boyfriend who loves you and takes care of you."
"I have it easy? Me? Is your peanut brain unable to look at the bigger picture?!" Eracervine retorted. "I wanted to be in jail! I killed someone! I don't want to be out here doing that dog's dirty work, knowing what he's up to."
"You love it. The drama. The action. I bet you loved fucking that kid. You're just upset you didn't get away with it." Wayne spat with venom and the deer froze on the spot for just a moment, his eyes wide with the accusation that had escaped Wayne's lips.
In a flash, the deer's hand darted out, slapping Wayne right across the face. It didn't hurt, not even remotely. If anything, the deer was in pain instead, as the tattoo's had very easily warped around the pig's body to defend against the blow. The two of them stared each other down as Eracervine shook his head, attempting to ease the dull pain spreading throughout his palm.
There was a moment of eerie silence between the two of them, before Wayne lashed out. He pushed the deer, hard, and Eracervine stumbled back until he hit the side of the SUV, near the front bonnet. Wayne didn't stop there, however: he quickly closed the distance between them and grabbed the deer by the front of his ornamental Chinese robe, yanking him up onto the bonnet and forcing him down against the metal. The pig pushed a little too hard and the metal buckled under the pressure as Fang gasped out, reaching out to bat and hit against the pig's face. Eracervine was definitely more than Wayne's equal: all it took was a snap of his fingers to wipe the man from existence, but he seemed reluctant to use it.
Wayne's forceful hands moved down, grabbing at Eracervine's clothes and threatening to rip them at any moment. Instead, however, his hands moved towards the hem of the robe, yanking it up across the deer's body, exposing his short pants in the process. Eracervine tried to push the pig's hands down, or at least his robe, but the difference in their strength was clear. Wayne's greedy hands grabbed and tugged mercilessly at the deer's pants, until they ripped under his might, shredding around the crotch and rear end.
"What're you doing?!" Eracervine gasped out, pushing against Wayne's body with all his might as the pig lowered his head, grazing his lips against the deer's neck and peppering kisses along his neck. The two of them fought for a strange dominance, and though Eracervine's face was twisted in anger and frustration, it was clear he wanted this. His humanoid member, exposed to the air through such vicious and strangely arousing clothes-tearing, was already at full mast, prodding the pig's but as the man dominated him atop the car bonnet, shards of glass around them, threatening to poke into skin.
Their violent arguing and fighting quickly turned into a peculiar heated passion, a lust for each other that wasn't really all theirs. Though neither of them could understand it, Top Dog had gotten into their head: after checking it to see their progress, he had tapped into their minds and the unexpected had happened. In that moment, part of his darkness, his desire for sex was seeping through into them. This was the true nature of those truly powerful supers: unpredictable and dangerous.
Wayne wrestled with Eracervine's clothes as he reached down to tug down his tight pants that clung to his chubby legs. He yanked them down enough to expose his member, humanoid and twitching, and he tugged the deer forwards towards his member, his cock slipping in between the deer's spread legs as his mouth roamed Eracervine's neck and cheek. With a shudder, the tip of his cock wedged itself between the deer's cheeks and he roughly thrust forwards, piercing the man's pucker and forcing his way into him. The deer arched his back, letting out a quiet hiss of pleasure and discomfort.
The two of them began to gyrate, their breathing low and heavy, their minds hazy with Top Dog's influence. Wayne bucked and thrust, plowing into the deer's behind, stretching his ass through the thickness of his short member and slapping his weight balls against Fang's backside. The deer clung to him, fingers digging against flesh as Outliner's tattoo's wormed around to instinctively defend himself from the potential nails pricking his skin. They both grunted and huffed, sweat beginning to form on their bodies as they fucked.
"How's it feel?" Wayne panted out, smearing his lips against Eracervine's neck. "Does it hurt? Is that what it was like when you fucked that kid?"
"B...Bastard..." The deer gasped out, in a mixture of anger and pleasure. "I can barely feel it. I guess you really are useless."
With an angered grunt, Wayne began to thrust harder and faster, each thrust making the car creak left and right, shaking with the force of his thrusts as Fang began to cry out, his moans heard from the other side of the street. He didn't care who heard him, and neither did Wayne: both of them were too caught up in themselves to care about any bystanders.
Wayne's thrusts soon began to slow as his breathing grew laboured. He knew he was close, or rather, he knew in the back of his mind that he was getting there. His body reacted accordingly and his thrusts grew irregular as the pleasure intensified, encouraging him to yank Fang onto his cock a little more as he moved his head, pressing his lips against Eracervine's own. The two of them shared a peculiar kiss, tongues meeting together as Wayne's body violently trembled, his pleasure reaching a peek.
"Fuck!" The pig cried out, thrusting forwards harshly for the last time, yanking Fang down onto his member as he orgasmed. Each throb and twitch coaxed a string of cum from his member, coating fang's inner walls the the pig's virile seed. Each pump and pulse had Wayne quietly groaning as Fang reached down, rapidly stroking himself. The deer's insides squeezed the grip, clinging around every inch of the pig's member, before he, too, felt the rush of an orgasm rolling over him. Though Wayne wasn't paying attention, Fang climaxed onto himself, spurting little strings onto the inside of his hiked-up robes and dribbling down onto his hand and pelvis.
The two of them stayed in that position for a while, panting and huffing, as the fog in their minds cleared and they hit with the realisation of what they'd done. Of course, the fact that they'd had sex wasn't the issue: it was how rough they were, how violent it was, and the fact they had no control that worried the pair of them.
"What the hell just happened...?" Eracervine groaned, feeling a moment of clarity. He clutched his head as a twinge of pain shot through his head, and he got a strange feeling, like something was being yanked out of his body. It felt horrid, and he hoped he wouldn't have to experience it again. The deer's ears perked up when he heard a quiet sniffle, and he raised his head to see the pig standing before him, the tears sparking in his eyes.
"Woah, hey-- what's the matter?" Eracervine's body felt sore, he knew that, and he knew he'd just had sex. He could see from their semi-naked bodies, his torn clothes and the went of metal on the SUV that something had happened, but his mind felt foggy when he recalled it.
"I lost control," Wayne spoke, his voice choking up. "I lost control and I hurt you. I hate hurting people. It scares me. I'm such an idiot..."
"Hey, hey..." Eracervine felt guilty, strangely enough, though probably not as guilty as Wayne did. "It's alright, buddy."
Fang reached out and hugged his arms around Wayne's neck, tugging him in for a hug. He felt the weight of the pig's arms curl around his body and hug him tightly, but with a surprising gentleness for such a brutish creature. Eracervine knew he was being genuine when he said it scared him: he could feel Wayne trembling against him, afraid he might hurt him again. It was almost horrific to witness.
"Deep breaths now..." Fang awkwardly patted Wayne's back, trying to console him, and Wayne inevitably pulled back, aware it was awkward. The porcine reached up and wiped his eyes, brushing away his tears as he yanked his clothes up, adjusting his jeans. He didn't bother wearing any sort of top, as usual: his tattoos were beginning to melt into his clothes sometimes anyway.
"Do you know what happened? I just kind of felt a nagging in my brain whilst I was trying to work, and..." Eracervine trailed off, shaking his head a little and he slipped off the bonnet of the car. Thankfully, his traditional robe covered his tattered clothes for the moment, at least for the most part.
"Top Dog," Wayne growled in response. "That bastard's always getting into people's head. He was screwing with my memories this time...I think...I'm not sure. But it was weird. Wrong."
"Wrong how?"
"I don't know, but we'd better go see him."
As if on command, Fang's phone buzzed. He frowned when he'd seen that he got a message from Top Dog, and he wondered if the Rottweiler could shed some light on the situation. He read the message's contents therein, and it read: 'Hey, this is Joey. Can u come to the office? Somethings wrong with top dog. :('
"Something's wrong. We gotta get to the office, and fast." Fang warned Wayne, who immediately nodded and headed towards the car. He hesitated when he found the door missing, but grunted in annoyance and got into the car anyway, starting the engine.
In seconds, they were off.
x x x
They pulled up outside of Top Dog's office complex some 20 minutes later, after avoiding the startled gaze of several drivers at their busted-up vehicle. They stepped out and Fang headed towards the door to the building, with Wayne in pursuit.
"Let's go." Fang commanded briefly to Wayne, who merely nodded in response as they headed inside.
"Did you get in touch with Wind Rider? Or anyone?" Wayne asked.
"No, no-one was picking up. I dread to think what shit Top Dog has pulled this time..." Fang muttered.
The duo headed inside and strode past the receptionist, heading straight for the elevator. The lift could thankfully support the two of them, and Wayne punched the number for the right floor, having been to Top Dog's office numerous times. The elevator shuddered upwards and they were whisked up to the top of the building in a minute or so.
The lift dinged and the doors trembled open, allowing them inside. The receptionist had gone home for the day-- it was, after all, late at night-- and they headed straight for Top Dog's office door, pushing the door open in an instant to allow them inside. They froze at the sight before them.
They had expected something simple: Top Dog sitting in his chair, stroking a white cat and remarking about how he expected them. What they hadn't expected to see was Top Dog unconscious on the floor, stark naked, with Joey sitting atop him in a similar lack of attire, phone in hand and a worried look on his face. Joey was sitting right on Top Dog's crotch. It didn't take a genius for Wayne or Fang to realise what Joey might be stuck on.
"Jesus Christ..." Wayne muttered, briskly striding towards the discarded yellow jumpsuit on the floor and putting it around Joey's body, attempting to cover him. The rat giggled awkwardly, averting his gaze from Fang's intense stare.
"Ah...yeah, I'm kinda stuck. Thanks Outliner..." Joey trailed off, tapping away at his phone. "We were kinda...busy...when Top Dog suddenly fell asleep and fell over like this. I don't know what's wrong with him."
The vague tremor in Joey's voice caused Fang to at least manage to peel his eyes away from the naked cub long enough for him to inspect Top Dog from a distance. He crouched down beside him and touched two fingers to the canine's neck, feeling the steady pulse of the man's heartbeat.
"Well, he's not dead, if that's any consolation," Fang sourly remarked. "We'll just have to wait for him to get up."
Fang shifted, moving towards Joey and slumping himself down into a sitting position, resting his back against the canine's mahogany desk. He was still a little injured, but being around Joey for a couple of minutes would fix that. Unfortunately, that meant him being in close proximity to the naked boy for a bit, and it took everything in him to avoid looking at the boy's crotch.
"This is fu-- uh...messed up." Outliner muttered darkly, sinking into Top Dog's office chair and placing his hands over his face, rubbing his features for a moment to try and wake himself up or brush off the weariness and drama.
They sat there for several minutes in silence. None of them knew what to say: Fang didn't want to do something he regret, Outliner had no words for the disgusting display before him, and Joey simply tapped away on Top Dog's phone, playing mobile games. After a few minutes had passed, Top Dog suddenly lurched forwards, sucking in a gasp of air, as if he'd just come back from the dead. His eyes were wide and alert, and both Fang and Outliner was startled by his sudden awakening.
Top Dog looked around the room, centreing on Joey, then onto Fang and Outliner in turn. His wild eyes and shocked face quickly smoothed over into his usual expression as he reached down, grasping as Joey's hips. The rat boy instinctively rolled his hips a little, eliciting a shaky sigh from Hank's mouth, before the Rottweiler sharply tugged his hips. With an audible 'pop', he forced his knot from Joey's behind, separating the two of them. Joey didn't peel his eyes away from the phone as he slowly stood, the jumpsuit slipping from him as he padded across the room naked to an available seat. Hank slowly rose, reaching for his superhero suit.
"Ercervine. Outliner. A pleasant surprise, if any. I assume you come with news?" Top Dog acted as if nothing was wrong, and that angered a pent-up Outliner, who was nearing the end of his tether with the man.
"News? News?! How about how your mind went into our memories and fucked with them, huh? Made us do...unspeakable things." Outliner pointed out, trailing off towards the end of his sentence as he shakily ran his hands over his face and head, breathing deeply.
"Ah...so it wasn't a fabrication of my own memory," Top Dog mused rather calmly. "It's a, uh...blip. A 'Power Spike', if you will. I got one when I was 18, and I suppose I got one again...my powers have expanded further, though to what extent I can't be certain. I'm supposing to whoever I was connected to as the time was affected."
"I don't want to interject here," Fang remarked, still sitting down. "But doesn't that mean you were, quite literally, working whilst you were...?"
He gestured to Joey, and Top Dog merely nodded in response, offering Fang in inquisitive eyebrow, as if to say: 'So what?'. Fang shook his head in response and averted his gaze.
"So can you get a hold of Javier for me? Our car's kind of busted, and I want to go home." Fang remarked, and Top Dog's eyes glazed over as he stood there in the nude, half-limp canine dick swaying to and fro with the simplest movements.
"...No. His mind is a blank, which means he's passed out," Top Dog murmured, frowning briefly. "But he's in the parking lot. I presume he was on his way here when he was affected, though I can't quite remember."
At the words, Fang slowly rose and left the room, leaving the three of them alone whilst he dealt with his boyfriend, who needed his assistance. Outliner didn't even know what to say.
"Joey," He spoke towards the rat boy, who raised his head to blink at the man. "Get dressed. I'm taking your home."
"But we still haven't f--" Joey began, glancing between Top Dog and Outliner respectively.
"Now." Outliner wasn't taking no for an answer. He sounded harsh, but it was in Joey's best interests. Top Dog remained dutifully silent, meeting Outliner's glaring gaze as Joey wordlessly tugged on his jumpsuit and then padded out of the door, leaving it open for Outliner to follow. The pig crossed the room, never breaking eye contact with the calm-faced Top Dog, and then closed the door behind him with a sharp slam.
Top Dog watched the door for a moment, before clenching his teeth and growling under his breath. He resisted the urge to knock things off his desk.
It was fine. Everything was going to plan.
x x x
10 years. It had been 10 years since he'd last drank. That was on the day he had his first and only child.
Outliner sat, sagging over the counter of a bar, bottle in hand. He'd curbed his alcoholism when he'd had his kid for his wife's sake, knowing he needed to be either be a breadwinner or a good father. It didn't do him a lot of good now: he saw his kid on weekends, at best, and got paid a shitty wage for risking his life during the week, just to have enough money to keep his kid happy and healthy.
He took another swig. He was angry. Angry, and upset. There was too much going on, too much to attend to. He wanted to protect Joey, to kill Top Dog, to keep working for him so he could earn a living...all manner of emotions ran through his mind, and those emotions made his tattoos a torrent of uncertainty that scrawled across his back and intensified whenever anyone got close. It was for that reason that he drank alone.
A hand clasped his shoulder, and his tattoos focused on the point, swirling around and trying to identify the culprit, though they weren't capable of doing that. It was more of a natural defense mechanism.
"You look a little on edge today. Well, understatement of the year."
The familiar voice had him briefly turning his head to see Fang move into a sat beside him, a bottle in his hand. The deer took a hearty chug of his cider and sighed, admiring the bottle.
"Haven't drank since I went to prison. Seems to be a similar case for you-- uh, the 'not drinking' part. You know what I meant." Fang excused himself and tripped over his words.
"Christ, Fang. Could you have any less tact?" Another voice came from the pig's right, and he turned to see Wind Rider, known as Javier, slip into the seat on his other side. "Man's been through hell."
"I know, I know...sorry." Fang muttered, looking down at his bottle. Wayne looked between them and scoffed, swigging his body.
"What is this, a pity party?" The pig commented dryly, and Wind Rider chuckled under his breath. He had a bottle as well, though it sat on the counter with a straw-- it was too difficult to drink using a talon.
"It doesn't have to be. We're your friends, Wayne," Javier reminded him. "We just want to make sure you're okay."
"Shouldn't you be off fuckin' or something?" Wayne sourly remarked, his comment and half-insult laying a thick fog of tension in the air. He grunted and looked down at the bottle, sighing with a bitterness beyond his years.
"That was petty. I'm sorry," He muttered, immediately apologising for his comment. "I'm just pissed. Pissed and...angry. And tired. And sad. And a lot of things."
"Sounds like a lot of shit," Fang remarked quietly over the noise of the bar and the quiet music. "You want to talk about it?"
There was a moment of silence as Wayne admired his bottle again, before bringing it to his lips and downing the rest of its contents. He slammed the bottle on the counter and made a simple gesture to the bartender, requesting another. Moments later, another bottle of beer was placed in front of him.
"My kid called me Wayne last week," He began quietly. "Not 'dad'. Not 'father'. Not even 'Pa'. Just Wayne. I ain't even a dad to 'im no more."
"That's..." Javier sighed through his nose.
"Shitty? Yeah," Wayne finished his sentence for him. "It's real shitty. Then all that shit today..."
"Did you see something bad?" Fang asked curiously, not wanting to pry, but also remarkably keen to know.
"Just some old memories of when I was a kid," Outliner grimaced. "And some other shit, too. Top Dog's a...a fuckin' ass."
"Yeah...can't believe he messed with your memories like that." Fang muttered.
"Not even just that," Outliner remarked, bringing a hand to his head to run it over his bald, pink skin. "He...ugh. You know when we were fucked, Javier? From that virus, or whatever, and we got healed by that kid?"
"Yeah." Javier's face darkened, and Fang knew something was amiss in their conversation.
"Well, Top Dog got that innocent kid to do more than just heal...he was...touchin' us. Sexually. And I...I lost control and..." He shuddered, using his free hand to cover his eyes. "I'm a monster."
"You're not," Javier immediately insisted, putting a hand on Wayne's shoulder. "It was the virus. You didn't know what you were doing. I...I was the same."
"He got you too, did he?" Wayne grimaced, almost laughing at the audacity Top Dog had.
Javier silently nodded, and this was news to Fang, who hadn't quite caught on.
"So wait," Fang began. "You both had sex with...with you-know-who?"
The silence between the two men was deafening, confirming Fang's suspicions. He wasn't at all happy about the situation: he understood the nature of the virus and how it affected people. He was disappointed that Javier had chose to take the high road on the subject for months, only for Fang to find out that his boyfriend had done similar deeds to himself, but he was more angry at Top Dog for exploiting a cub's desire to be a hero for his own degenerate game.
Wayne felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Being able to admit what had happened and even be sympathised and told it wasn't his fault made him feel lighter than ever. He felt as if he were on top of the world, and he soon found himself feeling happier and happier.
"I...thank you," He wiped his eyes, smiling a little. "I was holding that in for a while, and it was really screwing with me. Not everyone would empathise."
"Well, considering I was more or less exploited as well, what can I do by empathise anyway?" Javier remarked, and the two of them chuckled, idly clinking their bottles together and taking another swig.
"Let's get this party on the road, shall we?" Fang suggested. "I don't know about you two, but I'm not much in a bar mood tonight."
At his recommendation, the three of them left, taking a taxi across the city back to Javier's spacious apartment. The party had already begun in the back seat: none of them had experienced Wayne when he was drunk, but they quickly game to realise that he was a very affectionate drunk, especially to his friends. His hands were roaming their bodies as he kissed the two of them on the cheek in turn, his greedy mitts aiming for their nethers and occasionally their hips. There was only so much they could do in the back of a taxi, but all of them were sufficiently drunk enough to still go ahead with what they were doing by the time they reached the avian's place.
As they stepped through the door, they started, much in the same way Javier had done with prospective hookups in his youth. Fang closed the door behind them as Wayne more or less manhandled them over towards the couch. The pig was already naked on his top half, and it didn't take long for him to wrestle himself out of his jeans, tugging them off and tossing them aside so that he was completely and utterly in the nude.
"Get seated, big guy." Javier suggested, giving the pig a light push and coaxing him to sit down on the couch. Wayne did just that, the furniture creaking under his chubby, slightly muscular weight as he spread his legs a little, exposing his humanoid member, already half-hard and eager to be touched. Fang began yanking off his sweater and popping the button of his jeans, though he was forced to wrestle with his top to get it around his antlers. Javier, meanwhile, was already expertly undressed, using a talon to unclasp his shorts whilst standing on one leg, and shimmying his top half out of the loose jacket that covered his chest and stomach. The two of them struggled in their own right, but they eventually managed to worm themselves out of their clothes, and the three of them were inevitably naked and ready for whatever came next.
Javier moved forwards, climbing up onto the couch and nuzzling his beak against Wayne's cheek as the pig hooked an arm around his body and hugged the avian too him, his hand greedily running down until his palm met with one of the avian's supple cheeks. Fang, however, moving onto his knees between Wayne's legs and bowed his head, nosing along the pig's inner thigh and towards his crotch, where his lips eventually met with the head of Wayne's humanoid length.
Parting his lips, Fang took the cock into his mouth, sinking all 8 inches of pulsing meat against his tongue as he enclosed his lips around the length, careful to keep his teeth again. He placed his hands on Wayne's legs, stroking his flesh as he pushed his head forwards to take more of the length. Javier, meanwhile, was enjoying Wayne's affectionate groping, and Wayne's fingers slowly drifted between his cheeks, where they met with Javier's tight hole. He probed the entrance with his digits and felt Javier tense against him, though the nuzzling still continued regardless.
"Mmh, he's looking awfully dutiful down there, isn't he?" Javier remarked quietly, admiring Fang from the position he was in, and Wayne chuckled in agreement. "I should go and give him a reward for being so nice..."
The bird moved, sliding from Wayne's side and moving around to Fang's behind. The avian crouched down, grazing his beak teasingly along his lover's back until it drifted down between the man's cheeks. There, he lashed out his tongue, flicking it against Fang's behind. He probed the entrance with his tongue and made sure to slather its exterior with a liberal layer of spittle. He suckled and slurped, forcing his tongue into the behind and flicking it around appropriately to make sure it was all covered in spit and lubed up efficiently.
Fang was enjoying the pleasure from both sides. There was something deep and carnal about giving head that he seemed to enjoy, and the more that he bowed and slurped on Wayne's cock, the better the rest of his body felt. After a while, felt Wayne's hand atop his head, gently stroking his fur and encouraging him to go down a little harder over time, whilst all the while Fang's innards squeezed around his boyfriend's intruding tongue, knowing Javier well enough to know what the avian planned to do.
Satisfied that Fang was sufficiently wet and ready, Javier inevitably pulled back, shuffling forward on his scaled knees until the tip of his humanoid member wedged itself firmly between Fang's behind. The deer adjusted his ass appropriately, aware that Javier had the difficult of no arms to help guide his cock. The two of them had done this quite a few times, however, and Fang was dexterous enough with his behind to help him. When that failed, he reached back with a free hand and gripped his boyfriend's cock, guiding it in the right position.
With a sigh, the head of Javier's member met with the deer's pucker, and with a slow thrust forwards, the cock slipped into his lover's behind. The head was swallowed up rather quickly, accompanied thereafter by the rest of the length, that slowly plunged deeper and deeper, an inch at a time. During that time, Fang picked up the pace with his mouth, bobbing and suckling on Wayne's member at the pig breathing heavily, pleasure coursing through his body. It was a delight for his drunken brain: he had a handsome man giving him a blowjob, plus the sight of an attractive bird plowing someone's ass. What more could he want?
Javier sighed as he hilted himself all the way to the base inside his boyfriend's ass, and felt each clenching inch of Fang's inner walls around his member, squeezing and spasming. Each clench encouraging him to slide back and thrust again, until he begin in on a series of short, slow rhythms. Javier enjoyed taking his time, savouring every thrust, relishing every ounce of pleasure. He watched the way that Fang arched his back, felt the way he squeezed, and knew that his boyfriend enjoyed it just as much as him.
Javier pumped back and forth, his eyes lidded over as a sensation of pure bliss rolled over him, making him shudder and groan under his breath. Each thrust was accompanied by a wet, audible slap as his hips met with Fang's backside, his balls squishing and pressing against the Deer's own. Fang's cheeks jiggled with every thrust, his breathing harsh through his nose as he struggled to concentrating on pleasing Wayne and relishing the delicious pleasure that swarmed his system.
"Almost there..." Wayne huffed out, his hips jutting forwards a little, his cock sliding against the deer's tongue, probing the back of the man's throat. He rolled his head back and groaned, feeling every twinge of pleasure with every fibre of his being. His tattoos swirled according to his mood and seemed agitated the more pleasured he got, until he reached his blissful peak. When that happened, his tattoos spread out across his body like wildfire and relaxed along with his muscles as he orgasmed.
Fang felt the throbs first, before he eventually tasted Wayne's drunken, salty load. If that wasn't wonderful enough, Javier's cock slamming right into his prostate was sending him over the edge as well. Fang climaxed almost at the same time as Wayne, painting the carpet with the thing strings of his load, staining the fabric and causing his innards to spasm and clench. Like a chain reaction, his orgasm soon spurred on Javier's own in turn, and the avian slowly picked up speed, his breathing low and shallow, and indication of how close he was.
Wayne sighed and relaxed himself, arms flopping to the side as he released Fang's head, allowing the deer room to breath. Fang parted his mouth from Wayne's cock, his breath coming out in hot pants, occasionally joined by a gentle groan as Javier relentlessly pounded into him.
"Mmh," Fang groaned quietly, reaching his arms up to nestle himself on Wayne's lap and steady himself at the same time. "Almost there, babe?"
"You know it." Javier grunted, leaning forwards a little as his hips bucked. He didn't have the luxury of most people, who could hold their partner's hips as they thrust. Luckily, Fang was used to sex with Javier enough to push his hips back in time with the avian's humps, and that helped Javier get close to his release.
Javier's breathing turned heavy, his chest heaving and gentle moans escaped his lips. It was clear he was right on the edge, the thrusting in Fang's behind growing harder and faster as he used every last ounce of his energy to plow into the man's behind. Fang huffed and closed his eyes, humming in delight with each thrust, clenching in insides as hard as he could. That seemed to be enough.
With a sigh, Javier humped forwards one last time, and his balls tucked up firmly against his body as his cock powerfully throbbed. Thick spurts of seed emptied into Fang's behind, splattering his inner walls and dripping deep into his most intimate areas. Javier stayed perfectly still, enjoying the gentle squeezing of his boyfriend's behind, avoiding moving his cock for fear of overstimulating his sensitive head. After several more seconds, he pushed forwards and leant his body over, nestling it along Fang's back and cuddling into his slightly sweaty body.
"Mmh. I love you babe." Javier drunkenly mumbled, and Fang smirked in response, reaching back with a hand to gentle stroke Javier's feathers. Fang wasn't nearly as drunk as the other two. In fact, he had avoided doing so. He was angry. Angry over a lot of things, but certainly not to two people near him right now. He wanted to be as sober as possible to plan out his attack. Javier nestled against him as Fang stared off into the distance, eyes glazed over with a calculating look.
Top Dog had exploited his boyfriend, and now he was out for blood.