{"sf1_id":2488,"sf2_id":"pnGDvr51","title":"Lucky Rabbit's Foot","author":"Anonymous","words":2013,"posted_at":"2004-05-16T19:39:00.000Z","tags":["Bondage","M/M","Vore (soft)"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/2488-lucky-rabbit-s-foot","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/pnGDvr51","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/69/02/69022f6c-ec38-43c8-8e14-7afd48f9e0cc","description":"","content":"Once again, I must apologize to you, my dear reader, for what you are  \nabout to read. This story isn't extremely yiffy, but one of the  \ndemons of my mind forced me to scribe its existance into reality. If  \nyou are so kind as to read its entire length, and wish to comment on  \nit, I would be overjoyed.  \n  \nThis story does contain some level of violence, some small amount of  \nvore, and is, in my opinion, quite dark and depressing. There may be  \nstories in the future regarding the main character, but I doubt it.  \n\n* * *\n  \nThe old dog raised himself slowly from his bed. His old bones ached  \nas he sat up, and then they gave their standard protest as he twisted  \nhimself in his bed ever so slowly. He noticed that once again he had  \nwet himself in the night. He had lived with this so long that he was  \nwell past the point of shame, embarrassment, or even annoyance. He  \npulled off his dank sheets and then slid himself into his wheelchair.  \nThis took a great deal of effort these days, and he stopped to rest  \nand to think.  \n  \nHe looked at his matted down fur, and his limp tail cocked in what  \nshould be a very painful position. He adjusted it with his forepaws-  \nno need to stop circulation to it and have one more indignity thrust  \nupon him with an amputation. This thought drew his eyes to the stump  \non his left leg, where he had done something equally stupid a year  \nago.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Looking at his legs, however, brought a string of powerful emotions to  \nthe forefront of his mind. He glanced up onto the shelf over his bed,  \nand looked at the championship trophies. He had many first place  \nones, but his proudest achievement happened to be a small ribbon. It  \nwas attached to a magazine with his picture on the cover. That hunt  \nhad taken him days, and he was almost killed by the vermin in the  \nprocess. But after a long fight, several unexpected ambushes, and two  \ndays after the hunt was officially declared completed, he pulled his  \nquarry across the finish line. This one feat pushed him into the  \nnational spotlight as the most dedicated hunter. A dog to be feared.  \n  \nHe quickly grabbed his scratching stick and knocked the picture over.  \nHis grandson would straighten it later, no doubt. He always did. The  \nold dog bent his head in shame and simply wept. The last hunt he was  \nin was ten years before his grandson was born. He didn't even place  \nin that one. He sighed again and started to wheel himself to the door  \nwhen it sprung open.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; His two sons, one bitch of a daughter-in-law, and three grandsons and  \nvarious other relatives ran into the room celebrating. He smiled  \nweakly, swallowed, wiped away the tears from his eyes, quickly pulled  \na blanket over his lap, and then put on the largest fake smile he  \ncould.  \n  \n\"Happy Birthday, Gramps!\" His children ran in smiling and hugging.  \nAll his grandchildren except Roy sheepishly slipped in and gave a  \nbrief and obviously forced hug. Roy came over and squeezed his hand  \nand smiled warmly. It was almost enough to break the black ice of the  \ndepression he was currently suffering. But if he thought for a moment  \nthe thaw was imminent, the Indian Summer gave way to a rush of cold as  \nhe saw his gift.  \n  \nA rabbit.  \n  \nOn a leash.  \n  \nPerfect. Just frickin' perfect. And he thought knocking over all the  \npictures was enough of a hint that he didn't want any reminders of  \nvictories past. Well, he still smiled and thanked them for what he  \nknew was an expensive present. His nurse then showed up to give him a  \nbirthday breakfast of a poached egg, and his family took their chance  \nto take leave of him. Soon he was in a room alone with a nervous  \nrabbit.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; He finished his egg slowly, nearly choking, and looked over at it.  \n\"So, what am I supposed to call you?\"  \n  \n\"Er, uh, you're supposed to choose, since I am now yours.\"  \n  \n\"Fine. I name you Rabbit.\" He grinned inwardly as he knew this would  \nannoy the creature. Inevitably it thought it was going to be the  \nboyhood pal of some happy puppy. But now, it was the birthday present  \nto an ancient hunter. And this brought his mind back to his  \nbirthday.  \n  \nIt really wasn't fair. He had outlived his wife, a daughter, and all  \nof his friends. Each death had been horrible for him, and when his  \nlast friend died a few years ago, he was simply angry at him for  \nleaving him alone in the world. Now he was just old, and quickly  \nbecoming something of a museum piece-- something for people to be  \nproud of having, instead of someone they are proud to know.  \n  \nHe wheeled over to the door and locked it. Then slowly turned back to  \nface Rabbit, who was nervously shifting from one foot to the other.  \nHe was completely average for his species, standing at a bit under  \nfour feet, and weighing in around 60 pounds. He looked pretty lean,  \npossibly a reasonable runner. The old dog's eyes slid down to the  \nstump of a leg, and he sighed.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; He debated what to do with the creature. Once they got comfortable,  \nthey became quite talkative. He had had a similar rabbit eons ago  \nwhen he was a pup. Quite a clever critter, and their games of hide-  \nand-seek gave him insight into the lagomorph mind much deeper than his  \nfriends could see. Other memories of his friendship with the furry  \nlightning bolt summoned a feeling in his groin he had thought long  \nsince vanquished. He untied the Rabbit's leash from the closet  \ndoorknob and tugged him over to his bed.  \n  \nWith a few pulls, the mattress slid off onto the ground, exposing the  \nwire frame beneath. Without looking at the creature, he simply said,  \n\"Up.\" Rabbit appeared to be very well trained, and quickly hopped  \nonto the wire mesh, awkwardly moving around to get a little  \ncomfortable.  \n  \nThe old dog pulled the leash through the mesh and with a couple of  \nwraps, had the small beast's throat immobilized against the frame. He  \nthen ran his paw over the soft body that seemed to quiver beneath his  \ntouch. He sniffed the air, hoping for that tell-tale sign of fear  \nthat his kind gave off. That unmistakable scent of sweat and musk  \nthat seemed to ooze from their very bones. But he couldn't sense it.  \nAnd a look at the eyes of his prey showed why. It wasn't fear that  \ncaused him to quiver, it was disgust.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; The old dog snarled, \"I disgust you?\"  \n  \nThe brief pause and the averted eyes of the Rabbit only served to  \nanswer his inquiry in the affirmative. \"No, I'm just -- cold.\" A  \nstorm cloud passed over the furrowed brow of the once-great hunter.  \nThe animal didn't even respect him enough to tell the truth. Hell, the  \nanimal didn't even respect him enough to come up with a good lie.  \n  \nWell, the hunter knew he didn't have the patience to teach the animal  \nto respect him. However, he did have the time to make the animal fear  \nhim. He rolled over to his writing desk and opened the bottom  \ndrawer. In it he found his prized hunting knife. A glance at the  \nblade confirmed that while it may have lost its edge, it was still  \nready for the job at hand. With the knife resting in his lap, he  \nreturned to his prey.  \n  \nWith the knife in view of the Rabbit, the dog quickly got a whiff of  \nthe scent he had earlier desired. He noticed the animal had stopped  \nquivering as well. He resumed his leisurely feel of the supple fur on  \nthe beast. When he closed his eyes, it almost took him back to those  \ndays when he and his pet would lie under the trees stroking each  \nother. He would sniff at his friend for hours, noting each minute  \nchange of odor, and interpreting its meaning. He had tasted of his  \npet more than once, and many times they had consummated their  \nfriendship.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; He opened his eyes to find his paw rubbing at Rabbit's crotch, and the  \nsmall pinkness sliding between his fingers made him laugh inwardly.  \nWhenever his pet had mounted him, he would have to pretend a lot more  \nthan he actually felt, since only occasionally would the small tool  \nslip even partially into him. He knew his pet wasn't pretending,  \nhowever, when their positions were reversed.  \n  \nHis paw gripped roughly at Rabbit's groin, making the small bunny  \ngasp. He released the firmness and picked up the knife. Despite his  \nstiff fingers, he twirled the blade slowly in his paw as he thought.  \nHis mind considered, reconsidered, and then savored the idea that  \npercolated through him. Finally, his resolve was made, and once made,  \nhis mood seemed to brighten considerably.  \n  \nHe rubbed his paw over Rabbit again gently, soothing him with a gentle  \ncoo. He then picked up the knife and leaned over the rabbit's leg.  \nWith a short stab, he wedged the knife between the bones of the  \nanimal's calf, and then twisted it.  \n  \nRabbit started screaming and writing on the wire frame, putting up  \nquite a struggle. The old dog grinned, but the noise quickly got on  \nhis nerves. He punched the creature in the gut and then shoved part  \nof his bed sheet into Rabbit's gasping mouth. This silenced the  \ncreature enough, and made the flailing much more enjoyable.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; He let his prey do most of the work, by holding the knife still as  \nRabbit thrashed around, he soon had the hind foot almost severed. He  \nstarted to twist at it, and after fifteen or twenty minutes of working  \nat it, it finally came loose in his hand.  \n  \nThere was a knocking at the door, and the knob jiggled. \"Are you OK  \nin there?\"  \n  \n\"I'm fine,\" he called back, \"I have my call button if there's  \ntrouble. Now leave me alone.\" So saying, he pulled the call button  \nand cord out of the wall, and used it to tie the Rabbit's legs to the  \nmetal frame. He listened as he heard his nurse depart, and with a  \nsmile he looked at his meal.  \n  \nIt was still dripping. He tasted the warm and salty blood. All of  \nhis hunts came back into his mind, one after the other. Each capture  \na triumph. Each kill was the sweetest of joys. His teeth weren't  \ngood enough to tear through the boney flesh now, so he used his knife  \nto pare off a bite sized piece. He watched the expression of his prey  \nas he placed the morsel on his tongue.  \n  \nThe meat was still warm, and quite tender. He moved it around in his  \nmouth slowly. Then closed his eyes and swallowed. The mass instantly  \nlodged in his throat, and cut off his breathing.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; At first he sat quite calm. He started to rub himself with one paw,  \nand found himself starting to pound the other one on his wheelchair.  \nHis eyes watered, so he closed them, and was amazed at the colors he  \ncould see. His chest convulsed with the need for air, and his jaws  \nworked involuntarily trying to choke up the bone that was now killing  \nhim.  \n  \nHis consciousness faded, and with a slow, fumbling paw at his groin,  \nhis final orgasm leaked out of him as he collapsed, folding forward  \nand onto the bunny now in shock before him.  \n  \nThree hours later, his nurse found the door still locked when she went  \nto deliver his lunch. She decided to leave him alone until dinner,  \nand then had maintenance open the door. They found the old hunter  \nquite dead, on top of a dead rabbit. The family was so heart-stricken  \nby his loss that they paid the paper for the second paragraph in his  \nobituary.  \n  \n  \n\n"}