Road Dogs: The Passenger
Road Dogs: The Passenger
___ Boston pressed the old, cracking rubber gas pedal down farther with his booted footpaw and let a smile form over his muzzle as the large white GMC conversion van pulled strongly up the onramp. He was headed to a nearby town, leaving Dallas to watch their new hideout. He watched the familiar white road lines morph into a solid streak as the miles sped by on the freeway. In his head he replayed familiar, gruesome and cherished memories. His coming out to his best friend and mate, Dallas. Their first kill together in the abandoned farmhouse he had rigged up to surprise Dallas with his first pup. His first student with Dallas, a pup named Robbie Goldpaw.
Robbie was away at college now. He was studying medicine, thanks to the money from countless ransacked homes and victims. The border collie lauged out loud over his heavy metal music playing from the old speakers. The thought of the little golden retreiver's first kill, and now Boston and his dalmation mate's 'kid' in some big fancy school. He felt proud, but it was still an unexpected turn of events.
Boston was now 32 years old with all black fur except for the streak of white from his groin, up his belly and chest, over his neck and ending in a spike between his eyes. Those brown eyes locked on the road with their usual intensity now as he exited the interstate into a medium sized town, 30 or so miles from the abandoned house the younger Dallas was now guarding. The dalmation, once timid yet full of grim curiousity was now nearly as efficient a killer as himself, with just as much blood lust. Almost.
He knew what he was looking for basically, a young pup or teen who had an interest in some free weed and a ride. Anyone from the south knows we have those a-plenty. He ran through his head how he would park to light up with the youngster, and then knock the kid out, tying him up in the back under the folding couch-bed in the compartment he had made under the leather cushions where the motors for the recling sofa used to be. He grinned a toothy grin and took a drag off a freshly lit ciggerette, catching his own eyes in the rear view mirror. "Boston, you are one bad dog."
____ He knew the kid when he saw him. A young teenage pretty thing, a fox. Maybe around 15 to 17 years old. He chuckled and shook his head, eyeing the kid in his long denim shorts and black t-shirt with his skateboard slung over his shoulder, entering an uncrowded deli. An old diner with no cameras most likely. The old dog pulled into the dusty parking strip and the van lurched ever so lightly on its tough suspension as he put it into park. The collie turned the motor off and pocketed his keys, winking at his reflection once more as he hopped out and followed the kid in.
The black and white border collie steps in the door, the small bell jingling above his head announcing his enterance to the old female bear behind the counter.
"Sit wherever you want. I'll be with you in a moment."
The collie nodded at the ursine with a smile and chose a booth adjacent to the young orange fox, listening to his headphones loudly and scanning a laminated menu idly. Boston sat down and met the fox's green eyes. The fox looked the stranger up and down. Boston was in blue jeans, a tucked in white shirt covered in an open leather jacket with his pants tucked into tall all season motorcycle boots. He nooded to the fox, one arm casually slung over the back of the bench seat and grinned. He spoke in a loud tone, so the fox could hear over his music.
"I love Dubstep. Who is that?"
The fox shrugged, pulling off his headphones. "It's Predator's Prey.. They're pretty cool."
Bingo. "Nice choice, dude." He sniffed the air a bit, and then lowered his voice. "Dude, you're baked aren't you?" He made a small puffing motion as if toking on a joint and winked.
The fox grinned a bit sheepishly. "Yeah, why.. you a cop?"
Boston laughed. "Do I look like one? Hell no. I hate pigs."
"Me too. My dad is a cop. I can't stand him.."
Boston tilted his head a bit curiously. "Mind if I sit with you? I'm a good ear if you need one."
The young fox thought for a moment, thinking the older dog somewhat handsome, he blushed a bit. "Um, sure, I guess."
Boston wasted no time and slid across the aisle into the booth, sitting across from his next victim. Dallas would love this one. "The name is Boston." He held out a black furred paw, foregoing his real name, Daniel Travis Jr. The fox took his paw and shook it, too deintly for a straight kid. Even better!
"I'm Toby.." the timid fox replied. "You're not from here, are you?"
Boston went back to his pose with one arm over the back of the booth. "Nah, I travel alot now. Love driving and I can live in that van, so why not? Hey after some food you want a lift? I got some killer skunk I picked up from some coyote in the last town." He winked.
The fox thought again, and nodded. "Yeah, okay."
So easy, the collie thought with a smirk. "What will y'all have?" The ursine asked, notepad in hand, obviously ready to get back to having an empty dinner so she could sit and smoke her ciggerettes.
___ The two chuckled as they loaded into the van. Toby looked around the back and grinned. "Whoa, cool! You've got everything in here!" Noting the fridge, the couch-bed, the television and media players.
"Hah! Yeah, and she's fast to boot!" The border collie emphasized this by pulling a low speed drift, breaking the tires loose on the gravel as he slid out onto the road and roared off, the 350 V8 engine pushing them back into their seats and making the fox grin. They rode along and chit chatted idly about smoking primarily. Boston pulled the ashtray open and pulled off into a small park, parking and lighting up a joint he pulled out. He took a long drag and handed it to the kid. "So, Tell me about this asshole dad of yours."
Toby sighed, toked hard on the spliff and passed it back. He held the thick smoke in for a moment and exhaled, along with the cloud came the anger. "He's such a prick! I couldn't tell you how much." Boston looked at the fox's expression, he was staring out the window at the ground but the collie could see a familiar rage wash across his features. "He's just... Boston have you ever wanted to just kill someone so badly?"
"Well, yeah I think everyone has. But what did he do that's that bad?" Boston passed the fox the joint again, watching him drag on it as if it were the last.
"He just doesn't deserve to live. I think alot of people don't, you know?" He turned to look at the older dog, a bit embarrassed. "Does that make me bad? I mean, I just see scum, and worthless lives everywhere. I Don't think everyone who is a predator embraces that, you know?" Okay, now the kid was stoned and letting it all flow.
Boston nodded slowly. "Nah, I get it, and it doesn't make you bad, just better." He puffed on the joint to a roach and put it out in the ashtray, spraying some air freshener. "My dad was an ass too most of the time. He gave me a bit of, I don't know. I guess you could call it a killer instinct."
The fox perked his ears and looked into the dog's brown eyes. "Killer?"
Boston chuckled and shrugged. "Aren't we all killers, in a way? That burger we ate, we supported slaughter. And at least that cow fed us! What do these assholes on the street do? Just raise the price of everything and have too many dumb kids. I don't think killing is so bad if it isn't someone of worth."
Boston was holding a blackjack in his paw, between his seat and the door, ready to grab the kid and knock him out when their little conversation went sour.
"I think I could spend all day pulling people off the street and just, letting them know how I feel about them!" He laughed, stoned but looking sincere. He almost seemed to be searching Boston's eyes.
The killer eyed Toby for a moment. "You think you have that in you? It's a pretty big thing, you know." He had new thoughts going through his brain now. Dangerous, risky thoughts. He was wondering just how strong this weed really was.
"I... I think so. I honestly wish I had a chance, just to see." Toby leaned back and laughed a bit. "Maybe try it out on my dad! hah! Wouldn't he be surprised if I plunged a knife in his throat." The kid looked a bit scared when he mentioned his father this time.
Boston gulped, and dropped the blackjack back into the door pocket. He gripped the steering wheel. "Hey, do you want to meet someone? We're staying in a nearby town and got some good extacy tabs. I'm sure you could use a night away from your pop from the sound of it."
"Yeah? Cool. I'm in, fuck my dad he probably won't even know I didn't come home." The kid slunk in his chair a bit. "Who are we meeting?"
"Well, he's my mate. Dallas." The collie looked over at the fox with a bit of a nervous seeming smile.
"Really? Cool.. I mean, I'm gay.. too" The fox blushed a bit. "You know I'm 16, right?"
Boston grinned and started pulling back onto the road heading to the freeway, nervous for real now. A rare thing. "I wont tell anyone." He winked. What the hell was he going to tell Dallas when he brought a concious pup home?
___ The large high-top van rumbled down the dirt road past old farming developments, 10 miles off the main road of the old, dying town. The white plantation appeared across an overgrown field which once held acres of corn. The peeling paint and several busted windows aroused suspicion in the quick little fox. "Um, who are you guys staying with?" he asked a little wearily.
Boston winked at him, just as quick. "Shhh, we're squatting. They had an old generator I fired up and wired into the house while we stay there. Cheaper than a motel and complete privacy!" He grinned proudly.
"Cool!" Toby wagged his tailtip enthusiastically. "I've never partied in an abandoned house before!"
The two pulled up to the house and got out, slamming the heavy metal doors. Boston held the young fox up. "Let me tell Dal first so he doesn't freak, ok?" The fox nodded and the border collie ran up to the door, letting himself in and shouting "It's me, Dal. Hey, come here a second."
Dallas ran down the old dusty hall, wagging his less bushy tail with a huge smile on his face as if a turkey dinner was just brought in. "Did you get one??" He asked excitedly in his black jeans and equally black shirt, highlighting his spots nicely.
"Well, sorta." Boston lowered his voice. "Look, he's awake but he's cool. I want you to meet him."
Dallas let his muzzle hang open in shock. "Awake? Meet him? Boston, what the hell are you thinking?? What if he runs off and tells someone about us? What if he's got a cellphone and they track him? What if-"
"Shhh! I checked he doesn't have a phone his dad is poor. And.. I think you'll like him. He may be another Robbie." The old serial killer gave his younger, 25 year old mate his best puppy eyes, ears pinned back a bit. "Dallas, we can always kill him if we need to we're in the middle of nowhere."
Dallas' fur was bristling, but he kept his voice low. "Boston, we're 10 miles from a town, are you nuts?" He sighed, finally, crossing his arms. "Fine. We can "hang out" if you want, but we are going to kill this kid." That was as good as he was going to get from the cautious canine. Boston knew he could change his change his mind, he knew the dalmation well.
Boston whistled out the door, "Hey, Toby! C'mon kid. Lemme introduce you two." He met the younger, spotted dog's cold glare, and whispered to his mate, "Trust me."
___ There were indeed X tabs, as promised. The three canids each took two of the green pills, chasing them with several joints of strong pot. Within half an hour, Dallas seemed more relaxed, and Toby was cuddling between the two on the couch. Boston decided to dig more into this little fox's mind. He wanted to see if there was a chance this one may live. This was a rare feeling that he last had felt as he pulled up beside the young golden retreiver, Robbie. The kid was only 9 years old but when he saw the old collie in the van with his hungry look, he had held a knife at the ready behind him. Boston let the kid go, peeling off after telling the pup "Go get 'em."
The collie sighed as he remembered this in clearer detail, thanks to the drugs. He recalled saving the pup from gang members, and helping him get revenge. Years of training later and Robbie was now killing on his own. He looked over at his mate, the fox laying between them with his head in Dal's lap and legs over his own. The dalmation nodded.
"So, tell me more about this dad of yours, kid. He must be a real jerk!" Boston patted Toby's side gently, pushing him to open up. He didn't expect the pills to kick in so strongly for the young fox, for open up he did.
Toby began sobbing quietly and sat up between the two older dogs. "He's a bastard!" The little fox yelled out as if speaking in confidence to long time friends. "He's an abusive, drunken piece of shit who's done nothing but molest my ass since I was six! He told me it would make me tough, that the world is out to FUCK me and if I Didn't learn to take it now I would never be a man! I didn't go home because it would be the same as always! He would come into my room, smell the weed, and then tell me it was time to teach the stoner a lesson! He doesn't even pretend to care now, he just tells me I'll end up in jail, and this is what they'll do to a little fox like me! I was never good enough for him! Since my mom died he never tried to get a girlfriend, I was all he needed to get his fucking rocks off!"
Boston and Dallas's eyes went wide at the sudden outburst, the former looking down in shock as the little fox, now seeming even younger than he really was, clung to his chest and burried his muzzle into his shirt, crying openly. The hardened killer reached down and hugged the kid to him gently, petting his back and headfur. Dallas looked over at his mate and gulped. He nodded again, this time his eyes holding the familiar motherly look he took on with Robbie.
Toby didn't give either of them a chance to interject, with a sniffle he let even more out. "He caught me in my room with a kid from school. He and I were sucking each other off, you know? He yelled at the kid and ran him off, calling him a faggot, then you know what he did? He made me suck him off! Fucking hypocrite!! I wish I could kill him so bad! I want him dead! I want him dead!" The sobbing pup beat into Boston's chest, making the collie oomph slightly, eyes widening more.
"Woah! Hey, hey I'm not your dad, kid!" The little fox pulled back and sniffled, pulling his legs up to him, shivering and obviously peeking on the strong party drug, his emotions accentuated. What a bad trip he must be having, the old dog thought.. "But maybe we can help, what about that, Toby?"
The fox looked up at Boston, then Dallas, then back to the collie. "W-what? What do you mean? We can't.. we can't kill him. How could we do that he has guns and he's real strong.. What.."
Boston kneeled down on the ground infront of young Toby, putting his paws on the shaking youth's knees and looking into his eyes. "We're strong too. Also.. We.." He looked up at Dallas, who gave a small nod, hurt in his eyes. "We can do it. We can help you, Toby. We can make your dad go away. Forever."
Toby's eyes widened, bloodshot from crying and intoxication. "You mean.. You mean you can kill him? R-really?" He looked between the two and wiped his nose. "H-How?"
"Yes. Really. Toby, Dallas and I.. Well.. We're serial killers. We've done this for a long time. I saw you and well," He decided not to tell the whole truth. "I saw you needed help. We want to help you and take you away from all this."
The little fox leaned back in the old torn up couch and pulled his knees to him, eyes wide and black ears flat on his orange head. "K-killers? You guys kill people for real? I-I-I.."
Boston reached out and stroked the youngster's ears softly. "You are too, you said so in the van. We can teach you. Dallas and I have trained a pup already and he's now in college, killing all on his own. You've probably read about him. And us. I'm the West Texas Werewolf, from the news." Boston met the fox's eyes with a cold stare to emphasize this, yet let his paws move back to his legs gently.
Toby looked into the old border collie's eyes and gulped. He nodded slowly. "Is this.. real? I've always wanted to do that stuff, I just.. Is this for real?" He was shivering lightly.
Dallas nodded down at the pup. "It's real, Toby. Do you want to kill your dad tommorow?"
Toby grace looked down at his lap, trembling amongst the two murderers. He thought a moment, and through no fault of drugs he slowly nodded. "Please. T-Teach me how.."
Boston looked up at Dallas with a warm smile, hugged the little fox to him and rocked him slowly. "Done deal, Toby. No one will ever hurt you again."
___ The next morning Boston woke before the other two. He sat up on the couch and rubbed the back of his neck, sighing softly and looking next to him. Toby was laying curled up with his head in Dallas's lap. The dalmation was reclined on the old sofa with one paw drapped over the little fox. Boston let out another sigh and shook his head slowly. "No turning back now. You've got another kid, old boy." He stood up and stretched his arms out, back arching and tail straigtening as he yawned. The experienced serial killer went to go make bacon and eggs in the kitchen on a camping stove they always had with them. He brewed a pot of coffee as well and sat in the kitchen, sipping on the strong brew and thinking to himself.
Dallas came into the kitchen a few minutes later, smelling the bacon. He sat down at the creaky old wooden table and stared at Boston, who pushed the plate of half eaten breakfast towards his mate. "Boston.. What the heck did we do last night?"
Boston looked up at the dalmation over his coffee's steam. "We're breeding. This is how we multiply. People like us shouldn't have pups, you know how I feel. But when you find one that already 'has it' in them, well.." Boston trailed off and sipped his coffee before continueing, "then we raise him. Do you realize how lucky we are, to be able to have a family and still be what we are?"
Dallas nodded, picking up his mate's mug and taking a sip. "I know, hon. I just didn't think we'd find another one. After Robbie, I just figured it was a fluke. You're right though, this kid needs us. Besides, it's like you say. We're a different species." He took a piece of bacon and crunched it up in his muzzle. "It will be nice, having a kid in the old van again. A live one." He chuckled lightly and reached across the table to pet the collie's cheek. "You would be a good father, Boston. I know it means alot to you."
Boston smirked, "Then that makes you a good mother." Dallas slapped him lightly and they both laughed. "Well, It's time to give this little fox a crash course in murder. I hope he has it in him.."
Dallas sighed. "He doesn't have a choice now."
___ Behind the old farmhouse, Dallas sat on the rickety porch steps, watching his mate and the young fox in the overgrown yard. The collie was kneeling next to the fox infront of an old tire swing, somehow still hanging from a tree. In Toby's paw was a hunting knife, and Boston was demonstrating how to jab and twist for an open wound channel and easy extraction of the blade. The pup went to work on the worn out rubber tire, obviously seeing the old vulpine who was his dad infront of him.
Boston nodded, "Good. Now the way we're going to get your dad, is you will come in first, alright? Don't worry we will be right behind you. When the bastard starts yelling at you, we will knock on the door and make a ruckus. He will probably go for his gun or the door right away. As soon as he turns his back, you need to stab him in the side from behind, right where I showed you. When you pierce his lung like that, he won't be able to scream. Can you do that, Toby?" The collie put a paw on the teenage fox's shoulder. Toby nodded.
"I think so, Boston." He gulped and looked back at Dallas, then to his teacher again. "I'm scared."
"Of killing him?"
"No. Just of him." The little kit shivered.
Boston hugged the fox who honestly seemed to be 8 years old or so in his head. All his defenses were dropped. "He's not gonna hurt you anymore, Toby. We're going to hurt him. Together. Then, we will show you how to thin out the herd, like you told me you wanted to. Do you really want to be a killer, Kid? Like us? It's a lifetime of hiding and running."
Toby nodded. "I've never wanted to do anything else. I can't.. I think I'm too.. damaged.." The fox whimpered.
Boston scritched him between the ears. "All three of us are, kid. The world made us this way. So we get even. Right? With all of them." Toby nodded, standing infront of the crouched collie. "Good boy. We'll raise you better than you have been, I promise. Amusement parks and everything, hows that?" Boston grinned his trademark toothy grin. A half-humorous smirk.
Toby let a wag go through his bushy tail. "Thank you.." He smile back.
"Alright, enough emo bullshit! Show me that jab again! Remember the twist when you pull it out!" Boston watched with pride as the kid yelled and stabbed into the tire, the blade piercimng the old flaking rubber. "That's my boy.."
Dallas watched the two, the old memories of Robbie and his mate, the first father figure that this kid really ever knew. Boston only acted like this with a pup he liked. It made Dallas happy to see this soft side of the normaly hard, if not sometimes sensitive madman.
He whispered so neither could hear him from on the porch. "You really are a softie sometimes, Daniel."
___ They were in the van again, leaving the farmhouse behind in it's field just the way they'd arrived, save for a shredded tire swing. A cloud of dust rose from the tires as Dallas drove now, leaving Boston in the back with Toby. The two were watching a slasher movie on the flatscreen television over the front seats, betweem the cabinets holding his dvd player, game system and computer.
Toby had been wondering for awhile, but now chanced to ask as the collie passed him a freshly rolled joint. "Hey, Boston? Who taught you, um.. how to kill?" The collie looked at him quickly before glancing out the huge tinted side windows, the shades pulled up in the pleasant summer sunlight.
"My dad did. Lets not talk about him now, okay?" the short tone and awkwardness of the older dog's reaction was enough to silence Toby, who only nodded.
Dallas reached a paw back behind him for the spliff, and Toby handed it to him. "North on the freeway, right hon?"
Boston nodded, still in some bad place in his brain with his old man, Daniel Travis Senior. "Yeah. North."
Toby met Dallas's eyes in the mirror, a bit concerned. The dalmation winked at him comfortingly in the rearview. "Getting any ideas from that movie, kiddo?" He gave a little chuckle. "Boston always gets fun ideas from movies like that."
Toby wagged his white tipped tail beside him again, "Yeah.. I kind of want to.." He blushed, Boston now looking at him quizically.
The old border collie laughed. "Don't get shy on us now! We're serial killers, remember? You want awkward, tell him about how I had to put down that first puppy I got for YOU because you froze up, huh Dally-boy?" The two dogs laughed at the memory.
Dallas nodded and passed the joint back behind him to the collie who had to walk up to the front to retreive it. "Or when you slipped and busted your head while I was sucking you off that same time, huh mister?" Boston grinned, embarrassed.
"So go on, kid! Tell us what you want to to! Put a bag over some punk's head? Cut someone's pecker off? Bite their toes off? Man, we've done it all and if we haven't we've talked about it. So speak up, no being shy here!" The collie prodded his young protege with a paw in the ribs, tickling gently at the fox who giggled and reeled back.
"Okay! Okay!" he giggled. Boston stopped the assault to let him finish. "I.. Want to.." He blushed again under his fur. "I want to.. Kinda yiff someone who is dead. Someone my age. I've always been kinda into that."
"Ah, so thats why you like Predator's Prey. Good lyrics, there, I should have guessed you were a bit of a necro like me." Boston pulled the fox over and noogied him gently to ease his shyness.
Dallas laughed loudly. "Boston here has quite a few odd fetishes you'll learn. So don't be shy, huh? If you think it you'll eventually want to do it. We'll teach you how. Alright?"
Toby grinned and pulled his tail to him in Boston's embrace, still shocked at all this. One moment he was in a diner, fantasizing about murdering his asshole father, and next thing he was in a van with the most notorious serial killers currently active. He felt like he was put into one of his favorite horror movies, except this one wasn't scary anymore.
They turned onto the freeway and roared off towards his old town. The stubby, quad headlight front of the van almost looking like a hungry wolf. Boston handed a better knife to his new project, a razor sharp stilletto switchblade. "Here, kid. This one is sharper, and it won't catch on bone. Let's get this motherfucker, huh? And remember, just one jab. He'll live long enough for us to get creative on him." The collie winked.
Toby nodded excitedly. "I'm going to pull his guts out all over the floor! He's fucked me so many times on that carpet.. I'm going to fuck his open stomache!!" He blushed abit at having said that.
Boston howled at the air and threw the roach out of the cracked open smaller windows of the side doors. "You hear that, Dallas? I TOLD you this kid was gold!!"
Toby grinned sheepishly and held the knife to his chest as if it were a present from Santa.
___ They scouted the area until Boston formulated a plan of attack. He spotted a strip center about 2 blocks from Toby's house, and they dropped him off farther down the street. He told the little fox to walk slowly towards the house and to not enter until he saw the two approaching from the other direction on foot. The pair of experienced psychopaths then parked in the seedy strip mall. It was a poor part of town and they walked past decrepit old houses on the dingy street.
Toby's dads house was falling apart with yellow, peeling paint and an unkempt lawn and porch. Toby saw his friends walking up the street and took a deep breath, squeezing the knife tightly in his pocket before slowly walking up the sidewalk to the white front door. He turned the knob.
He walked in and saw his dad, sitting overweight and naked on an old green armchair, facing the t.v. with a beer in his paw. When Toby entered the living room, the old fox grinned and scratched at his fat balls. "Boy, what the fuck were you thinkin', stayin' out all night? Smokin' pot and makin' me worry, huh? I guess you best come over here and 'ease' my concern, huh?" He smirked drunkenly, obvously not having worried at all, but the pink poking out of his thick white sheath showed how horny he was.
Toby shook, terror washing over him, briefly forgeting his friends who even now were approaching the yard. He gulped, feeling the blade heavy in his pocket, and walked over to his father. "Dad.." He built up the courage before letting it out. "Dad I'm not sucking that filfthy fucking dick of yours. Not ever again!" He still shivered, yelling at and defying his monster.
His father, Greg. Greg the police man. The public servant, grinned a nasty grin. "Oh, no? HAHAH!" He laughed loudly spilling beer as he stood up with a grunt. "Boy, what has gotten into you? I think I'm going to have to teach you some proper manners! You gotta respect yer elders, right, Toby? Now you get on all fours right now for yer old dad. I'm going to make you bleed out that little tail of yours." He sneered at his small son, rubbing his sheath excitedly and drooling, his eyes narrow and mean.
Toby yelled "I said NO, dad! You fucking son of a bitch! I'm going to cut that fucking thing off!" The young fox had his hand in his pocket, snarling at his huge father and trembling badly, fur on end. He looked rabid.
"You little fuckin' shit! Faggot slut! I'm going to cram this bottle up your ass then make you eat it you little cumbag! Get the fuck over here-" he had started towards his kit, the bottle raised as if to smash it down on Toby.
A pounding on the door made him pause, teeth bared in a vicious snarl.
"Greg! Greg!" came the voice at the door. "Someone's stealing your car! Get out here, Greg!"
"The fuck?" The fat fox pushed Toby aside hard enough to make him slam into the wall as he stormed past. He made it only five feet from the door before his eyes went blank for a moment. A horrible gurgle escaped his open muzzle, green eyes like Toby's rolling to the ceiling as he fell into the wall himself, putting a paw up to brace himself, the other clutching his bleeding side.
He collapsed onto the floor, kicking his legs and rolling in panic, gasping and choking. Toby stood behind him, holding the bloody stilletto blade in a trembling fist. His lips pulled back and eyes wide. Boston and Dallas now stood in the enterance, closing and locking the door behind them.
Boston leaned down as the dalmation ran over and hugged the terrified young fox. The collie looked down into Greg Grace's shocked face. "Hello, Mr. Grace. We're here to do what you've done to your son over his whole life to you, in just five minutes. Your little boy is going to carve you open and fuck your abdomen, while we string your guts around the living room."
___ Boston grabbed the overweight fox by the hindpaws and dragged him, leaving a trail of red on the old, dirty white carpet into the living room where toby had cried so many times, worn out and raped as his father went to his room to pass out. He dropped the old man's legs with a thud and handed Toby the hunting knife as the three stood over the loser for the father of the year award.
"Toby. Open him up. Make it sloppy." Boston grinned toothily down at Greg, this smirk a wicked one. Dallas pat the younger fox on the back gently and the shivering boy knelt down, crying now in rage and sunk the blade deep into his father's gut, making him gasp a wet noise out of his chest. The old fox kicked his legs, and Dallas pinned them down. The border collie wrapped Greg's arms up in duct tape and secured them to a heavy sofa leg. He then watched as Toby sawed up and down through his father's belly fur and flesh towards his ribcage. When he felt bone he tossed the blade aside and stuck his paws deep into the cavity with a scream of courage and years of pain.
The little fox peeled back his father's belly and quickly stood, unbuckling his pants and shedding them to the side. Boston kneeled and looked into Greg's eyes. "I wish you could tell me how this feels, pop." He stuck his black paws into the guts and pulled at his intestines, getting a handful and slowly walking back into the depths of the living room, unravling the old fox and slinging the mess casually over furniture and across the carpet. Toby rubbed his small sheath, hunger in his eyes before he lay down over his old dad. His own personal demon.
The teenage fox, who was stuck at 6 years old, now erect from his white sheath, sunk the red member into the red of his father's abdomen. "How does that feel, dad?? Huh? Does it feel the same as when you did it to me all those times?" He stared down into his dad's terrified, dying eyes as the old man seemed to plead to the heavens. Toby began to hump down, a sick squishing noise as his own white bellyfur was stained crimson. He quickly thrust into the guts, all he could feel was heat and wetness. All he could see was those green eyes growing dim. He snarled and bit down hard on Greg's muzzle, sharp little teeth piercing the older foxes nose and cheeks as his cub snarled loudly into his face.
Boston watched with a smile, twirling a loop of intestines as if it were a lasso at his side, the same grin plastered on his muzzle as he looked on with cold, narrow eyes. He seemed to be reliving things in his head as he rubbed his own sheath slowly.
Dallas held tight to the struggling, chubby legs, now weak. The brown furred hindpaws clenched tightly and kicking only slightly now as the man gurgled on his own fluids filling his lungs, drowning him.
Toby grunted and screamed in his dad's face, spat in his eyes and pounded at his torn, disemboweld belly. "I hate you dad! I hate you! I fucking hate you! Boston and Dallas are my dads now! You're just shit!! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!!!!" He howled the last bit out as he emptied his load into the gutted old fox. He panted, hanging his head and staring at his father's heaving bloodied chestfur.
Dallas pet over little Toby's ears and headfur softly and motherly. "C'mon, foxy. Sit up so your dad can see us, now." Toby whimpered softly, head still hanging as he held himself over his father. He was shivering, but he nodded. The youngster let Dallas help him up, his small fox cock was knotted and hanging bloody and wet out of his red stained sheath, balls and belly. He stared down at his dad, Dallas hugging him at his side.
Boston snarled out and tossed the heap of guts like a baseball, letting them fall onto the couch, trailing out of the old, abusive fox into and around the living room of horror. He strolled over to to stand above greg with the other two, all looking down at the gasping, wheezing old man. "Toby. Do you think I can finish this piece of shit off?" He grinned evily into the 'dad's' eyes.
Toby stammered out, "Y-yeah, Boston.. I'm done with him. Forever." He clung to Dallas and looked down at the mess of his father with his head leaned into the dalmation who hugged him tenderly, stroking his headfur.
The border collie smirked, showing even more fang than normal. "Greg, I normaly kill little punk pups. " He paused to wiped the drool from his muzzle with a bloody paw, "But I kill pieces of shit like you for a reason. Time to turn those lights out... 'boy'.."
With that he raised a heavy biker-booted footpaw over the old vulpines terrified, dying face and brought it down so swiftly, that the fox never saw his forehead and snout cave in around his eyes. Only black.
___ Heavy metal dubstep, the inspiring sounds of that lovely band Predator's Prey, blasted from the speakers of the van. The three furs had taken the liberty of washing off together in greg's shower. An oddly touching family moment. They had scrubbed the blood off each other, and before long the young fox was giggling and slapping water at the older dogs like a pup. For the first time, a happy pup. They had dried with Greg's towels, and Boston even took the liberty of stealing the dirty old man's bathrobe.
Toby sat in the front passenger seat, Dallas dancing in the back of the van, and Boston staring icily down the road with a cruel, satisfied, triumphant grin. He let one arm hang out the side of his van, beating on the old door with his paw to the beat of the angry music. The three drove on down the road in relative silence, not needing to speak. Words had little meaning for moments like this, they would accomplish nothing. This was sheer, animal triumph that usually was reserved for their feral ancestors.
The van sped down the freeway, engine steadily growling as they had been, full of killers, and headed to a new town somewhere in the distance.
Back On The Road.