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A Real Festival Celebration

Chapter 1

For Mizzukat

By Draconicon

The bus over the bridge was as rocky as a rollercoaster, and not for the first time, Gus wondered if this was his best idea. After all, there were other music festivals across the country, and most of them weren't quite so isolated as this one.

Yet, even as he considered staying on the bus, all it took was one glance out the window and the lion felt that he had made the right decision to go. Rocky-ass bridge and stormy skies notwithstanding, Rock-a-Shock was supposed to be one of the best music festivals in the country. He could see the massive stage from the halfway point of the bridge, as well as the one hotel on the island that was booked solid for the festival. The whole thing was meant to be a weekend-long celebration of rock and roll, of punk, and of everything that made the whole genre of music great.

Gus leaned back again, crossing his arms behind his head and using his tail to keep his guitar where it belonged in the seat beside him. The tan-furred, dark-maned lion sighed as he got as comfortable as he could as the bus jumped again, and again. The wind had them swerving from side to side, and more than half the other passengers were groaning in increasingly sickened tones, but he didn't mind it that much.

I'm going to get stoned, I'm going to get laid, and I'm going to get inspiration by the truckload for my work, he thought, shuffling against the seat to adjust his vest without moving his hands. And if anybody tells me otherwise, I'm going to -

The roar of a helicopter drowned out his thoughts, and he grunted as he looked out the window in annoyance. Another chopper shot past the bridge, flying low and wobbling even so. He shook his head as it swung over the hotel in the distance, sighing as he settled back into his chair.

Another rich asshole, he'd bet. He'd seen a half dozen choppers head over to the island in the last ten minutes, probably trying to get their paying passengers over before the storm got any worse. He just hoped that they weren't going to turn into monsters of entitlement at the festival.

They reached the end of the bridge shortly after, and Gus was one of the few that didn't breathe a sudden sigh of relief at not being bounced up and down any longer. The bus drove past the twin rock faces at the edge of the bridge, up a path that led away from the sheer rock faces that ran down to what passed for beaches on the island - more like sheer cliffs that didn't allow anyone up or down - and toward the flat ground at the raised center. There, finally, the bus came to a complete stop.

"Well, that's it, everyone. Out you go - hey! Lion! Put on some pants!"

"Oh, come on," Gus groaned as he stood up, pierced dick flopping over the headrest of the seat in front of him. "It's Rock-a-Shock. You really think anyone cares?"

"Maybe they wouldn't have a decade ago, kid, but they got a dress code. Pants, all the time," the roadrunner driver said, shaking his head. "Now, put something on, or you're not getting off the bus."

"This is some bullshit..."

"I don't make the rules, kid. Now, get dressed, or you're not getting off the bus."

Shaking his head, Gus was forced to stay in his seat and wiggle his suitcase down from the rack above while the other passengers were getting off the vehicle. The closest thing to pants that he had was a rubber thong that some bedmate had left behind one day, and he sighed as he pulled it on. It was barely enough to cover his cock and balls, and the back went right up between his cheeks, but at least it was enough to cover his privates.

He grabbed his guitar, stepping into the aisle of the bus. The roadrunner looked in the mirror and groaned.

"That's it?" the driver asked. "That's all you got?"

"Look, I didn't expect this place to get morals, okay?" Gus rolled his eyes. "Now, you letting me off the bus or not?"

"If they get pissed off, I warned you."

"Don't worry. I'm not ratting you out." Annoying as the rules are. "Just open the door and I'll be outta your feathers."

The roadrunner muttered something that sounded a bit like 'on your head be it' before swinging the doors open. Gus tossed the older man a salute and walked down the metal steps, bare feet tapping against the ridged metal before coming to a thump on the earthen path just outside. The lion rolled his head side to side, shifting the leather strap of his guitar over his back as he looked around. As the bright red tip of the electric guitar nudged the back of his neck, he pulled it over the other shoulder, taking a deep breath as he looked around.

"Well, new rules or not, still looks fucking great," he muttered under his breath.

The raised plateau that the hotel and stage sat on was big enough for a few hundred people, maybe as much as a thousand if they really jammed in together, which he knew would happen eventually. The stage itself was the usual massive metal frame with lights and fire-jets attached to it, and he could smell the power and fuel in the air just waiting to go off. Gus grinned, tilting his head back and breathing in...

And he was immediately disappointed at the lack of weed smoke in the air. He grumbled under his breath, pinching his nose.

"You gotta be kidding me..."

Nothing. There was some of the sea-air that he expected from the water down below, some of the heat-smoke from the stage, the haze of summer ozone with an impending storm: all that was there, but there was none of the weed stink or the hot-sweat smell that he had gotten at Woodstock or the other big festivals around the country. It was...sanitized, almost, and it felt like something had been lost as a result.

Well...fuck. I'm already here, let's find registration...

A few turns in place eventually led him to the line for getting his passes. He joined the rest of the crowd heading for it, joining the long queue that ran around the back of the castle-like hotel. Men and women of all species were already waiting there, and when he got in, there was an antelope four places in front of him that was already yapping into a phone, spinning this way and that.

"Look at that, everyone. Loud and clear and ever so here, it's your host, Xander Q!" the antelope said. "And I'm coming to you live from the registration line at Rock-a-Shock. So many wild cats here, and I bet you anything that this is going to be the wildest music festival ever. So tune in whenever you can, because I'll be bringing you news and live updates all day, every day. Like and share this for more content."

Great. Influencers.

Rolling his eyes, Gus told himself that he should have expected that. Things were different from the huge resistance and punk and hippie waves that used to attend other festivals like this. Burning Man, Woodstock, Coachella, they were all different than they used to be, but Rock-a-Shock should still have some remnants of it. He was going to have a good time, and that was all that -

"VIP coming through, VIP coming through."

Gus and several other people were elbowed out of the way as a pair of rhinos pushed through the crowd, elbowing them this way and that to make room for some peacock that was primping even as he passed through. Some rich boy, from the look of things, and one that had been completely pristine before getting slightly nudged by some sweatier older man further down the line. Gus winced as the rhinos shoved the older man out of line, the rich bird complaining about the sweat stain all the while.

That did not bode well. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing another helicopter coming through the darkening clouds. More rich people, more bodyguards, more pissed-off brats that were going to need to learn a lesson about treating people decent, from the looks of things. He did not relish the feeling.

As he adjusted his guitar and resisted the urge to swing it around, the man behind him - a taller, older horse that had a mane as gray as the rest of his coat was gold - looked down to meet his eyes. Gus chuckled at the resigned smile on the equine's face, turning and offering his hand.

"Gus."

"Raul," the horse said, shaking his hand. "Hug?"

"You got it, man."

They shared a quick embrace, patting each other's backs and butts. The familiar groping that always happened in the right crowds at other festivals followed, and Gus felt a bit better as they broke apart again.

"Any idea what's going on here?"

"Just the usual crap," Raul said, shaking his head. "Used to be a good place until the rich kids realized you sounded better if you said you'd been."

"And before the hotels started jacking up the price for the rich people?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Damn." Gus shook his head, looking back at the front of the line. "And I'll just bet that they're going to take forever when they get up there, demanding all those extras at the last minute."

"Talking about calling their fathers."

"Or their congressmen."

"Who says there's a difference?" Raul asked, chuckling.

"Heh, good point."

"Old hand?"

"Eh, yes and no," Gus said, shrugging. "I'm not even thirty yet, but you know, roadie. Gotta see everything I can if I want to keep up with everything that people are putting out. Better to see it live if I can."

Raul nodded knowingly. Glad to have someone else that at least understood the spirit of the festival, he gave the horse another look-over.

Unlike him, the horse was actually dressed, though whether he was dressed 'appropriately' was another question. The big stallion was probably pushing fifty at this point, old enough to have been around for the big-name festivals back when they were still what they were supposed to be, but he looked good for it. Bit of a gut, thickening around the chest and neck, but he had the powerful body that a stallion was supposed to have. Still had the bulge down in those loose sweat pants, too, Gus noted with a chuckle.

"Doing anything later?"

"I'm going to see if I can find someone to do, if the bands are as bad as I've heard," Raul admitted. "You offering?"

"I might be."

"Turn around for me, eh? See if you look as good as you - ohhhh, yeah."

Always happy to provide a show, Gus had started turning on his heels as soon as the horse had mentioned wanting a look. The thong that he wore didn't hide much, though he wasn't sure if it showed the piercing through the bulge he got, but he knew how it looked from behind. The black rubber was all but sucked between his cheeks, and considering how many times he'd had to run from the cops in the world outside the festival, he had some good glutes. He bounced them a few times for the older man's pleasure, and heard a soft whistle behind him.

"Damn. Well, you just jumped up the list for me," Raul said, chuckling. "You got a room yet?"

"Hmmm, was hoping to crash in one. You?"

"Heh, I got one on the second floor. You wanna pay with a little ass, I'll let you stick around."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He winked as the line started moving. Well, at the very least, he'd found someone that he could enjoy. One way or another, the festival wasn't going to be a total loss. That was something.

#

Six hours later...

It was just short of what Gus would normally call dinner-time, and it had been a complete waste of his time to come out to Rock-a-Shock. The bands were nothing more than corporate sell-out rock and roll, and the solo singers were either there on the cheap because they were desperate for talent, or they were so fucking awful that he couldn't stand to be in the crowd to listen to them. The inspiration that he'd been hoping to get from the performers was just not there this year.

More than that, he kept running into rich boys and their 'staff' at every turn. At one of the food carts? Rich okapi girl trying to get some vegan alternative for the fried food that they were serving while screaming into her phone about a lawyer.

At the hotel bar? Listening to some chubby tapir going on and on about the stocks that his family traded in and how much money they were going to be getting this year. Nobody paid him any attention, but the bodyguards were waving around money to try and get some weed or something else that would keep the guy happy.

And so it went. There was always at least one, and the only ones that paid them any positive attention were the other rich kids. It was like some mass decision had gone through the rich assholes of the world and they'd decided, en masse, to use the festival as the dumping ground of their loser kids for the weekend.

And that was just the start. Normally, Gus could have scored some ecstasy or any number of other drugs from easy sources throughout the festival. It would have been harder to stay sober than it would be to get high. He wanted to enjoy himself, to get some new designer drugs, and see what they made him feel.

Instead, security made it a rule that nothing stronger than weed was allowed, and even that was only buyable from a very reputable shop, and that shop had sold out within five minutes of the festival opening. The puritan that ran the whole thing hadn't thought that he'd need more than a hundred grams for the entire weekend.

Idiot.

Gus leaned back against the hotel back wall, pulling his guitar up and giving it another strum. The slow hum that followed glazed the eyes of the raccoon at his feet up once more, and he went back to bobbing his head.

Gluk.

Gluk.

Gluk.

"Well, at least you can do that pretty well," Gus muttered under his breath, closing his eyes and enjoying the raccoon's lips going up and down his cock. "Don't stop now. I want to get...mmmph...I want to get off soon, but not too soon..."

Not that the guard could understand what he was saying. The mind-wiping strums of his guitar just blasted someone's brains out their ears if it wasn't accompanied by certain instructions. Usually in lyric form, but it could be done in screaming fashion if he was too pissed off to come up with a tune.

As it stood, keeping them blank and just a little horny was fine with him. Gus rubbed his hand around the raccoon's head, guiding him up and down, up and down, enjoying the soft, sloppy feeling of a nice mouth around his cock. The wet licks, the warm throat, and the soft grunts from below did a lot to start easing his bad mood about the whole thing.

You couldn't get one good act for the first day? Are you kidding me?

The wailing sounds from the last bands of the day were still going on, echoing over and around the building, and Gus had to tune it out to keep his cock from going soft. He growled under his breath, shifting the thong down a bit further to keep it from getting too uncomfortable under his balls.

"Go on. Suck it right down to the - fuck yes..."

Right down to the base. He held the security guard's head there, enjoying the little spasms around the head of his cock as he got sucked good and hard. A few little grinds of his hips, his balls nudging against the raccoon's chin, had him nice and close already.

Giving one more soft strum, he made sure that the raccoon would stay good and out of it for another five minutes before putting the guitar down on the ground. Grabbing the security guard by the sides of the head, he started thrusting away, fucking that mouth-hole and moaning under his breath as he let loose some of his frustration.

In, out, in, out, focusing on the feeling of that wet tongue under the head of his cock, the soft 'pop' of his tip sliding into the throat, and the way that the raccoon gagged every time. The soft spasm around his shaft was enough to keep that pleasure high, and he closed his eyes as he just...enjoyed it.

Hate-fucking the guard was just what he needed to feel better. He'd been minding his own business, and the guard had come 'round and told him that he couldn't take a leak in the bushes. So much for that; the guard was the one relieving in him in another way now.

He sped up, ramming his hips forward, feeling the soft smack-smack-smack of his balls bouncing off the raccoon's chin. The slow swallows that happened every time that he hilted his dick in the bitch's muzzle came close to pulling him over the edge, and Gus groaned, leaning forward. Thrust, thrust, thrust as he humped that fucking asshole's muzzle, grinding all the way up to the hilt before pulling out. Sometimes, the piercing at the head of his cock would catch a little, tugging at his tip, and he growled as it almost pulled him over the edge.

"Fucking...asshole..."

The squelch-slick sounds of his cock popping in and out of the security guard's muzzle only made it wetter, nastier, hotter. Gus growled, his teeth clenched together as he hammered his cock home one, two, three more times before -

"MMMPH!"

He went over the edge, pulling out at the last second. The raccoon's head lolled back as he stroked his cock, spraying three thick lines of white across the guard's face. It'd be a mark of humiliation for trying to turn this little festival that much worse than it already was. Probably would get him in trouble, but at that point, he barely cared. Let it happen; it'd be more interesting than this car crash of a music celebration was.

Panting, Gus stepped back, giving the raccoon one last push with a bare foot into the dirt before grabbing his guitar and making his way back around the hotel. He considered letting his cock just hang out and drool, but at the last second, he pulled the thong back up. Might as well keep from being thrown out completely.

As he rounded the corner, he saw the edge of the crowd. Most of them looked like they were doing their best to make something of the mediocre show, but here and there, he saw newcomers - and the rich fucks - that were getting more into it. Probably trying to hype it up, he imagined.

Raul was waiting near the front of the hotel, the older horse leaning back against the wall as Gus had been doing not that long ago, though without the advantage of someone sucking him off. He sighed, only to brighten up a bit as the lion entered his line of sight.

"Hey there. I thought you'd be busy."

"I thought I'd be, too. Turns out that I got fucked over coming here."

"Yeah..." Raul sighed, looking back at the crowd. "Knew it wouldn't be good, but this is downright embarrassing. What the hell is this?"

"Pop, more than anything," Gus muttered, shaking his head. "It's embarrassing."

"It'd be one thing if it was all truth and love and sex, but this is...this is just pandering."

Gus nodded in agreement, looking at the many cell phones that were up in the air. Now, he didn't mind those for the most part; he had seen plenty of those at concerts all around the country, and he even saw them in the crowd when he was performing in smaller dive locations. People filming, even streaming a performance was fine, because he knew for a fact that actually being there was a hundred times better, and he always took what was done of his shows as free advertising.

However, he saw that antelope, Xander Q, and a few other 'influencers' paying more attention to their phones than the performance, and even trying to shout over it. The sight of it was just...painful.

"Do you think you're going to stay the whole time?" Gus asked.

"Don't got much choice; the room's mine until the end of the show, and I don't have a ticket back until the bus comes on Sunday," Raul said, shaking his head. "But this is the first time that I wish I'd brought earplugs."

"Same."

"...Wanna head back and get off a few times?" Raul asked, nodding back at the building.

"Heh, tempting, but I'm going to see if I can score something first. You want anything if I get some?"

"If you get some uppers, sure. Downers aren't my thing. Heart stuff."

"You got it."

Another short hug, and Gus was off into the crowd.

He was halfway through the 'cheering' crowd as the latest pop group continued their lackluster song when it happened. The lion blinked as he felt the first rumble, half-sure that it was his imagination, but he still stopped dead in his tracks. He waited, arms outstretched -

Another shake.

Another rumble.

"Fuck...fuck!"

Long experience in towns well-acquainted with earthquakes made Gus throw himself to the ground. No sooner had he done so than the big shocks hit.

The music stopped, metal wailing as the ground rolled and turned beneath his feet. The crowd went from cheering to screaming, almost everyone else completely taken aback by what was going on. He could hear a few other people hitting the ground, throwing themselves off their feet before the ground could do it for them, but it wasn't until the big one hit that he realized how fucked they were.

As the ground rolled, feeling almost like hands lifting and lowering the earth at random, he heard the greatest shriek of metal on metal that he had ever heard in his life. He peered through many pairs of legs towards the far end of the island, and there, where the bridge met the land, he saw it.

The great bridge was sheering itself apart. The shaking ground, the high winds, and the rolling suspension bridge combined to a perfect storm as it ripped itself apart. The first edge of the bridge came loose from the island, a huge chunk more than a hundred feet across falling to the water below. As the cables whipped about wildly, they snagged the other half of the bridge and started pulling. The creaking turned to cracking, and piece by piece, the bridge tore itself apart.

And as the bridge fell, the rock faces that led to it broke apart, too. The road was blocked almost instantly, and that was only the start as the screaming grew louder and louder.

#

It took a total of two minutes. Two minutes of earth-shaking, soul-rattling power, and the island was completely cut-off from the mainland.

Gus was there as the hotel staff started getting reports, and he was there as Raul and many other guests started forcing their way into the lobby, trying to find out what was going on. The rich folk were still huddling in the open area, too afraid to come inside, which was probably for the best.

Eventually, a field mouse manager for the hotel cleared his throat and addressed the crowd.

"I'm sorry, everyone, but according to what we're hearing from the mainland - at least, before the radio cut out - they won't be able to send any retrieval teams until next week. The storm -"

"What about helicopters?!" someone shouted from the back of the crowd.

"Did you see that wind?" Gus called back. "It might not be Wrath of God out there, but there's enough wind blowing around that any chopper's going to be knocked against the side of the island before it can land."

"That is what the mainland is saying," the manager said. "Of course, anyone that wasn't able to bring an RV or some standing shelter with them will be allowed to stay in the lobby of the hotel. We will be attempting to find ways to break down the suites for more room, but that will be entirely dependent on those staying in them and how flexible they are. I am very sorry for this inconvenience -"

"Hey, my phone's not getting any data!"

"What's going on with the WiFi?"

"Hey, you going to fix this or not?"

Feeling an almost allergic reaction of disdain for the idiots and the entitled, Gus turned away from the lobby. He nudged his way past Raul, and the horse followed him out to the field outside of the hotel.

The wreckage was...substantial. The helipads that had been on top of the hotel and across the way had completely collapsed, with the former sliding off and falling on several different vehicles that were parked outside. The stage itself, while still standing, no longer had the metal struts on either side, and the headlights that lined the top had fallen and crashed into the field as well. Fire and smoke lingered, though any dangerous bits had already been put out.

Gus shook his head, one hand rubbing the back of his head as he stood with his hip cocked out to the side. He could just make out some of the assholes that he'd been complaining about poking their heads around some of the wreckage, some of the better-dressed, less-dirty ones making their way towards the hotel front door. The lion sighed under his breath.

"Raul?"

"Yeah?"

"Check my thinking on something."

"Heh, what are you planning, kitten?"

"One, don't call me that," Gus said, holding up a finger. "Two, now that there's no real sponsorship stuff going on - and nothing that they can do to report us to the mainland until next week - that means that it's kind of a free-wheeling, anything goes sort of situation, right?"

"I guess you could see it that way."

"Mm-hmm."

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, I'm looking at those people out there, and the stage, and I'm thinking...I don't really care to keep listening to their bullshit. And I think you and I? We got the same sort of idea of what this sort of place is supposed to be. Yeah?"

"Hmm, probably. I mean, I miss the way that we used to just...have fun. Some of us got mad, some of us made love...it was all about being who you were, man."

"Mm-hmm. So...I'm going to let you in on a little secret," Gus said, swinging his guitar around. "This machine fucks assholes."

"...Huh?"

"Heh, sorry. I've always wanted to say something like that." The lion chuckled, patting the bright red guitar. "This baby of mine's got a few little tricks up her sleeve. Never fails to pull a crowd, never fails to get 'em on their feet...and most importantly, it always gets them to do what I want."

"You some kind of Orpheus or something?"

"Haven't heard that comparison in a while; classic. But no. Just a little bit of musical magic."

"What are you talking about?"

"You just wait right here, and I'll show you."

Gus could already hear the complaints of the few spoiled brats walking across the former courtyard and field. They were muttering about how impossible this was, how they could have died, how they were getting their money back and going home right now. They were bound and determined to get the hell out of dodge, particularly now that their precious phones weren't working right.

The lion rolled his eyes as he leaped from one broken piece of equipment to another, curling his toes on the metal to keep his balance before running like one of his feral ancestors up to the stage. He took a flying leap for it, landing on the edge. Bringing his other foot down, he spun around and strummed.

Bwhoooooooooooom.

The sound echoed across the open space far further than it had any right to. Not plugged in, not jammed into any speaker, not drawing any power, the electric guitar nonetheless rang out for all to hear. Those in the open stumbled, and those that were at the hotel entryway went wide-eyed. He saw a dolphin gasp for breath, and Raul's pants clearly stiffened even from a distance.

Gus chuckled, waving his hand as all eyes turned to him.

"Who said that the festival was done?!" he shouted. "I think, now that the crap's been cleared off the stage, the real show can start!"

Two bodyguards were giving him the side-eye, but Gus didn't give them more than a second's glance. He shifted his stance and pulled his thong down. As soon as the rubber garment hit the floor, he kicked it away, standing with his cock out and the piercing dragging the whole thing down.

Before the crowd could do more than gasp, Gus brought his hand down on the strings once more. The wailing sound of an electric guitar filled the air as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"It's the end of the day, and we're hurtin' bad

Ain't got the time for slow wine

So turn up the tunes, pick something real glad

And we'll have a real good time!"

As he got into the tune, shaping it and going completely on improv, he could see the changes already wracking the crowd. The fear was fading, replaced by expressions so loose and relaxed that they were almost high. The bodyguards slumped, the rich folk stared with slack jaws, and the real fans started to pour out. Gus chuckled, jumping in the air.

"No more screaming for change, no more punching the wall

Going to have a real good time!

Now it's breaking the chains and punching the air!

Going to have a real good time!"

And they were going to have a damn good time. The heat from the tunes, the intent behind the song, and the raw pleasure that his beat was putting out into the air already had feet tapping, faces sweating, and everyone starting to pant. He knew that by the time he was done with his play-set, it'd be like having a crowd pumped up with aphrodisiacs and high on life in a way that they had never been before. If he didn't have a fucking orgy in the crowd by the time that he finished his set, he'd be disappointed in himself.

He grinned as he kept coming up with brand new lyrics on the spot, dancing to the tune he played and putting on a show with a swaying dick, stomping feet, and a bouncing ass he spun in place. Every time that he saw a new eye on him, he grinned that much wider, and when he saw Raul staring at him, the horse's dick throbbing in his pants, he knew that he'd have a free room for the duration of the festival.

Things had just got so much better.

The End

Summary: Gus, a lion that has a serious issue with boundaries and personal space, has gone to a music festival hoping for something out of history. What he gets is something unfortunately boring.

Tags: M/M, Raccoon, Lion, Mind Control, Gus, Series, Barefoot, Oral, Face Fucking, Horse, Antelope, Various Species, Isolation, Music Festival, Irritated Feline, Orgasm, Cum,