20 Years Later
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Despite what the description says, there's a lot more to it. This story contains drugs, cub rape, violence towards a cub, and the death of a cub. I in no way, shape, or form approve of these subjects in real life!! If this kind of stuff does not appeal to you, LEAVE NOW. Needless to say, if you are under 18, you shouldn't be on this website in the first place.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
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Note from Neptune: This story takes place in an alternate universe. A war has been going on for the past 25 years, but the story does not focus on that much. This is the story of Kennith Clark, a wolf whom, 20 years ago, was known as the infamous "Big Bad Wolf". He raped, tortured, and killed when he was high on coke, and he was only 16 years old. With no family and living on the streets of the Imperial City know as "Aries", Kennith was raised by the shadiest and most coldest men.
But life goes on. He was never caught in his reign of terror between the ages of 16 and 22. After an unnamed accident, Kennith gave up his life of crime. 20 years of self medication and therapy has kept his lust at bay. But today he is put to the test.
And now, on with the story
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20 Years Later
A work of fiction
by: Neptune wolf
7-22-08
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It was hot in that small box. My sweat was fogging up my glasses and blood was quite heated. I let out a sigh of frustration as I looked at the young cub next to me. He could not have been more than 5 years old. What exactly was he doing on this floor of the building? In that case, what was he doing IN this building? It had to be a conspiracy of some sort, a trap. It had only been about 10 seconds since the elevator stopped between the 51st and 52nd floor but it felt like 30 days. The boy was panting silently, chest heaving deeply in slow, measured intervals but no sound coming out.
"It'll be okay kid. Probably just a power outage." I said reassuring the boy. He was a cute kangaroo pup. Short, hazel brown fur wrapped his entire lean body. He was a little over half my height and every inch of him Screamed 'cute'; from his well-used tennis shoes to his black-suede baseball cap that was two-sizes too big for his head. The 'roo quivered slightly and adjusted his shirt; a simple red shirt that looked so soft it took every last drop of my strength not to rub a paw against his cute tummy.
I held my breath as he adjusted the shirt. It was a bit short and every time he lifted his arms, about two inches of his cute, smooth, lower belly was exposed. I closed my eyes as tight as possible, as if the tawny brown fur on the boy's tummy were the snakes of Medusa's head. He spoke.
"I'm okay. I just don't like small spaces." said the kangaroo cub. His voice was well-tempered, yet immature; light with a sweet feminine pitch. I barely heard him over the sounds of him panting and crying in my fantasy. I shook my head. I spent the better part of 20 years keeping my thoughts in check. I can't let this kid undo everything!
Suddenly the lights flickered and went out. Despite being 8 in the morning, it looked like midnight in the elevator. But then the emergency lights came on, dim and yellow like the moments of bliss I used to have after a few lines of coke. The brushed aluminum finish of the elevator door looked like a light-stained wood under the light. The general alarm came on, faint thought the steel doors, accompanied by a voice came over the out-of-date intercom.
"Please stay calm. Follow security personnel to the nearest exit. This is not a drill. This is not a test. Please abandon all personal items and calmly exit through the marked stairwells. Please avoid all elevators. I repeat, this is Not a test. This is not a drill. . ." It was a female's voice, stoic and scripted. She went on reading the script but the intercom inside the elevator car had poor reception. It was loosing power along with the lights. I caught a few key words through the static. "Don't panic". "Army reserves". "Medical attention". "Fires". "Firearms". There was screaming coming above on the 52nd floor. Some kind of calamity going on on the 51st floor.
Then the building shook, sending the 'roo cub off his feet. He was in a panic, panting, gibbering something about going home. He staggered up and wrapped his arms around my waist, causing me to panic. I was hard as a rock and leaking like a faucet. I wonder if the boy could feel it as he wiped his nose on my crotch. There was another shake, this time a bit harder as if an explosion went off nearby. I wrapped my arms around the cub to keep him from falling, a million thoughts going through my head and none of them good. I shook my head and gripped the boy harder but carefully; not lustfully. . .
* * *
Two Days Ago . . .
"Okay, Mr. Clark. Meet me here Thursday for your first day. You'll be here on the 55th floor of the Star Building. Just tell the doorman that Mr. Westley from Westley, Mosley and Associates sent for you. He'll ring my secretary to buzz you in until you get your badges." the large tiger shook my paw firmly with the grip of a lobster, or a guy with a pawing problem. I stood up with the brightest, most fake smile I could physically make as he shook my paw. "You know what, Clark? We should get lunch. I bet you're famished!" He said with gusto, as if we were childhood chums. "I own a little bistro not far from here. Come. There's drinks all day there." His voice was rough and demanding, which matched his large body, solid with fat. I agreed. Mr. Westley wasn't one to upset.
He opened the door of his modern office and walked with me back to the drafting room where dozens of drafters, city planners, and architects worked diligently creating the newest addition to Aries City's skyline. The elderly Mr. Westley barked orders at interns as we exited. "Get me those damn sketches by the time I get back or I'll have your head!". "You! Yeah you! I want those detail pages sent over to Carver to be looked over today." "Teach Stone how to use a damn pencil, will ya? Revit isn't everything, you know!" He spoke with plenty of arm motions, which explained why he looked like a potato with toothpicks sticking out.
We had lunch at "The Studio", a steak, beer, and potato place that's so expensive I never heard of it in the 40 years I lived here. It was in the heart of my old 'hunting ground' when I was younger, back when I was called "The Big Bad Wolf" by the local newspapers. . .
I sat opposite the elder Mr. Westley at his private booth. We talked as if we've known each other for years, which is how he talked with everyone, I assumed. At least outside of the drafting room. We talked about sports, weather, politics, war, cartoons. All but the last, I was completely out of touch with. I hadn't sat down and watched the news in over 2 decades since the war had started.
"Yeah. Your damn government took more than half of my best engineers and architects for The Draft. Women and men, all gone over to the base in West Arlingdale. Doing projects for the government. They paid me a pretty penny for each of them. 50 thousand Credits!" I only nodded. My apartment was worth less than half that. I heard of the draft through word-of-muzzle, listening in on conversations at business parks and on the public trains. The government stole every able-bodied and qualified citizen between the age of 16 and 35 and put them on the front lines. All the ones they couldn't steal, the ones with jobs and lives and brains were 'purchased'. Architects, engineers, doctors, et cetera. They were officially paid dogs for the government. The draftees eventually got to see their homes again if they weren't killed. But the 'purchased' citizens were never heard of again. But this was only word-of-muzzle from the city. I smiled and nodded at the large, stout tiger. I doubt he knew what the war was doing to people.
"See, that's why I like you, Clark. You don't care about all that political stuff. You're innocent in all that news crap. It doesn't phase you. Doesn't bother you none. You, Mr. Clark, are focused! I guessed that comes with your species. Wolves are always focused on some prey. I just hope I'M not the prey!" Mr. Westley said with a full bodied laugh. I cracked a smiled and looked down a bit shyly.
I was focused perfectly. My prey? Salvation from the life I'm living. Behind my clean, 3,000 Credit suit, perfectly trimmed facial fur and whiskers, designer glasses, whitened teeth, and polished claws, was a vicious beast that once molested and raped over 50 cubs in a two-year period. I shook out of it and looked Mr. Westley in the eye. I needed to bond with him, show him that I am his friend. I had a million fantasies and visions going though my head and it took great physical effort to focus.
"Well, the one thing I do know about this war is that it's created a good place for guys like us. Credits flowing like water like back before it was ten Credits for a gallon of gas. People on their paws and knees begging us to add a 100,000 Credit slate-roof to their house. Begging us to add a half a million Credit 'luxury bunker' to their country estates for fear of invasion. I've been out of the field a long time, but I know this is a good time for Firms like yours. Hell, I bet the Public spends almost as much as the Government. We can definitely cash in on this!" The elderly Mr. Westley chortled with his steak-knife and fork in his paws, clinking against his nearly clean plate. He suddenly pointed at me with the knife.
"Mr. Clark, you and me are gonna do this everyday. Right here at this booth." I smiled wide. He finished off the last speck of mashed potato on his plate before continuing. "Just me and you talking and eating." The elderly tiger was worth three-quarters of a billion Credits. Finding a real friend was hard, and I just filled that void.
* * *
I left the restaurant more spiritually torn than usual. Mr. Westley paid for my cab ride home and walked back to the Star Building. This would be my first real job in about 10 years. Mr. Westley was paying me 75 thousand Credits per year. This will solve my money problems. But the time I spend working will interfere with my sexual countermeasures, rituals, mediations and exercises that keep my sexual urges in check, that kept me sane all these years.
I panted as I quickly got undressed in front of the large mirror in my apartment. The clothes, the shoes, all of it was loaned to me. Borrowed 500 Credits from a friend to get new glasses. It was all so very uncomfortable. After it was all carefully placed back into the garment bags I got dressed in my usual garb; jeans and a t-shirt. I have no idea how to tell my boss I have no 'business attire', but that is for a later time.
I commenced my sexual countermeasures.
First up was a cold shower, 10 minutes. Next was yoga, followed by reading 20 pages of "The Society", a book issued to everyone by the government that no one ever read. It was a series of 5 hardcover books about how 'to be a model citizen'. At 1000 pages each and written in 'bible print', it gave fine detail on every aspect of the 'perfect life'. It wasn't mandatory to read, so most citizens did not read it at all, quickly classifying it as a mind control technique, but there was actually good stuff in there. In The Central Republic of Aries, everything was questioned.
After the reading was what I call sensitivity training. Educational pictures and videos of cubs living everyday lives, being parented, being stupid, being themselves. They were mainly from TV documentaries and parenting magazines, but they helped make my fantasies seem less grounded and more absurd. A 3 year old cub didn't seem so yiffy when it was screaming like a devil at it's parents while sitting in a soiled diaper.
Then came the 'normal' yiff. Vanilla porn. An adult male and female having sex missionary style. Same species, No music, no obscene cum-shots, no exaggerated vocals; just pure, clean, healthy sex. It was so boring, I never even got hard while watching it. But that was part of the self-inflicted therapy.
For 20 years, this has in part been successful in kept my urges in check. And for 20 years, I lived an unfulfilled life.
A long jog through the Midtown park was what I needed. It was a normal ending to the therapy, but today was a little different. Apparently there was some kind of picnic thing for cubs. Music, clowns, cake, games, the whole 9-yards. I stopped to catch my breath in the warm July air. Several cubs scampered past me wearing nothing but swimming gear. A few younger ones were even completely nude. I had to take a breath. The pool, I thought. It must be packed with kids.
Against my better judgment, I walked through the park to see what was going on. I stopped in front of a a banner by the Aries City Pool and looked up in awe. It read:
"Welcome to the First Annual Cub Swim Day"
The letters were bright and colorful, almost glowing, in a handwriting that looked like a kid's. I couldn't believe it! I stood there looking up in awe, thinking that if I blinked, this would all go away. Just then two young wolf pups bumped into me and kept running, giggling and wearing nothing but their soaking wet tighty-whities. I was in a complete daze. Twins! My tail waggled as I imagined taking them both into the shower stall and locking the door. A tender paw would slide them out of those wet garments and provide just enough moisture for me to slide a finger into their tight . . .
"Watch where you're going!" a female voice called from behind. I turned around and saw their mother running towards me. I suddenly felt ashamed and was about to break and run. "I'm sorry, mister. Those kids don't know how to mind their manners." She looked me over. I was wearing a pair of jogging pants and t-shirt. "Hm. You have kids here?" she asked honestly.
"No, I was just . . ." But before I could start lying, she continued.
"You should volunteer at the pool. They need more males to guard the locker room. A lot of little ones have been getting bullied all day." She sounded as if she didn't want to be there.
I was completely dumbfounded.
"I'm Reina Smith, Mother of those two bags of caffeine that bumped into you. I'm also one of the coordinators for this kiddie fiasco. There just seems to be too many cubs and not enough supervision. Mind lending a paw?" I looked away from her with a smirk. This wasn't happening. This doesn't happen in real life. This was just a crude joke of some sort, a Divine Comedy. This only happens in yiff stories!
I closed my eyes with a smug smile then reopened them. The hundreds of cubs were still running around half naked, the dozen or so volunteers wearing tan uniforms look overwhelmed and out of shape, and Ms. Smith had a clipboard in her paws. "Just sign right here, Mister . . . "
"Mr. Clark. My name's Kennith Clark." I said barely containing myself, halfway done signing my name on the list of volunteers.
"Great! Lets just get you in uniform and put you in a post!" Ms. Smith said pleased as ever, wagging her tail as if she just got the day off from the job from Hell.
A few moments later, I was in the starched tan shorts and button-up shirt with the Aries City emblem on it. I smiled as I looked at myself in the mirror, ears perked and bouncing on my heels. No one will get hurt, I told myself. My 20 years of therapy had to count for something.
I was stationed outside the boys locker room and shower. Clothed cubs came in, usually with a bunch of friends and no adults, and small, brightly-colored Speedos with cubs filling them came out to the pool. One cub, I noticed had a particular heavy looking bulge. He was a bunny, about 6 or 7 years old, shyest one of his group. He had refused to let anyone see him get undressed to shower.
"Can you watch the door for me?" he asked in his cute small voice. I swallowed hard and took a breath before nodding with a smile. It was only me and him in the boys pool house at the time. If only I had a camera, I'd be a millionaire by tomorrow morning. Even though I was out of the Cub Yiff game, I still knew a few big-shots who pay big money for stuff like this.
They say when you speak of the devil, he comes to you. And that, he did. Lamar, accompanied by some random kitten came into the locker room.
"Well, well well. If it isn't The Big Bad Wolf in the flesh! I half expected you to be here, but as a volunteer? Hehehe. You always had some game going, just like old times, eh, Ken?"
"I quit that stuff 20 years ago, Marty. You know that." I growled. I hadn't seen that dog in over 15 years. I'm surprised he even recognized me.
"Then why are you here?" The buff rotti asked. With a smile. There was short silence and a dumb look on my muzzle. "I hear a shower running. You got a cute PYT giving you a private show? Am I interrupting? Hehehe. I can always go back outside and talk to that nice Ms. Whats-her-name. I'm sure she'd like to hear little stories about you."
My blood was boiling and my teeth were barred without me noticing. I relaxed a bit. There's no fighting Lamar. Even back in the day he demanded taking first dibs on the cutest pups.
"Look. I don't do that stuff anymore. You can have at it if you want." I said gesturing towards the cub in the shower with my head with my tail tucked submissively between my legs. Lamar had enough dirt on me to send me to Old Sparky. I had terrorized and ravaged half the country. The black and brown dog smiled and walked forward, already disrobing. The small lion cub stood watching me, as if he were the Rotwiler's body guard. I closed my eyes as Lamar walked past me, almost whimpering in submission. The lion cub stayed behind by the main door. He looked no older than 4 years old.
What am I doing! I yelled at myself. I heard the sweet bunny cub shout as Lamar burst through the shower stall door. The rest of the dialog was muffled by the sound of the shower.
My mind went blank. I was a scared little 16 year old pup again, submitting to the older dog. Lamar was my mentor back then, my teacher . . .
* * *
"Screw all that making-friends-with-cubs bullshit. If you see one you like, just reach out and nab him. Here, lemmie show you." He said as I watched him follow a wolf cub into the mall bathroom. He motioned me to follow and as soon as all three of us were in the mens lavatory, he turned half the lights out and locked the door. The cub whimpered. His parents or guardian had trusted him to go alone to the bathroom and now I was being trained to take advantage of that trust. Lamar grabbed the cub by the scruff of it's neck.
"See, you gotta show him who's boss. Shake him up a bit." He said as he violently shook the whimpering pup until he wet himself and started crying. Lamar took a whiff of the tangy scent. I was excited to say the least. The older dog had a way with making things exciting, but then again, everything was exciting when you just did two lines of coke. Lamar held the cub in the air by it's arm and with a quick, skilled movement, he slid the pup out of his shirt and pants, exposing his 'big boy' underwear. Lamar had taught me this trick a while ago on several pups he would find on the streets. "Next, you gotta decide if you want a quick yiff, or nice long torture. I'll let you choose today, Ken."
I looked at the cub, my 16 year old cock hard as ever. "Lets make this one quick." I said. And almost before I finished the sentence, the dog had slammed the pup on the marble sink and put him into position.
"You watching, Pal?" He yelled. I nodded, standing behind him watching every small movement he made; a paw held the squirming, whimpering pup down. With the tip of his claw, he made a hole in the wolf-cub's urine soaked underwear over his tailhole. In less than 2 seconds, the tip of his canine cock was buried deep inside the pup. His right paw held the pup's muzzle closed while his left paw kept him pinned.
I stood behind them wagging my tail in guiltless pleasure as I watched this master at work. Lamar was only 22, but he had been doing this since he was 12. As his newest pupil, he gave me full access to his techniques, his 'terror-tory', his favorite willing pups, his videos, his sources, and even his sloppy seconds.
Before long, the rotti was sliding in and out of the wiggling pup, growling and snarling with each thrust. I leaned in closer to see the action, getting down on my paws and knees between the big dog's legs to get a better view. His knot was painfully hitting against the cub's rump, which wiggled and squirmed uncontrollable, which added more pain on itself, yet more pleasure to the rotti.
"See that? Watch my knot." He said between thrusts. "Never, EVER knot with a pup when you're doing a quickie. Only knot when you you have time, good cover, and a place to dispose of the pup's body. Got it?" Lamar instructed. I quietly nodded, pawing my tender wolfhood. With a few grunts, Lamar finally pulled out of the cub and let go of it's muzzle to hear him cry as he shot his thick load across the nameless cub's tummy.
Lamar let out a sigh of relief, rubbing the creamy cum into the pup's fur, making it nice and sticky. "Ahh. The joy of not having your DNA in the system. Never get caught, pal. As long as they don't have your DNA in the system, you can cum all over them. Wanna try?" I nodded like a fiend and quickly got up, already close to climax. "Whoa whoa, calm down, Ken. You need to realize that it's the pup's job to make you cum. Now he's nice and loose for ya. Have at it." The big dog said as he slapped the wolf cub's abused rump and dismounted. He was just about passed out from the pain of having his tailhole stretched like never before by the time I got into position. I was so high drugged up I barely knew what was going. All I felt was a need to cum.
I quickly slid inside the cub and pumped with reckless abandon, not making an effort to grasp the wolf cub's muzzle to keep him quiet. "You're going to be a murder, aren't cha, Ken? Every time I'm with you like to hear'em cry. Admit it!" I smiled like a fiend, drunken with lust. Despite the rough yiff he got earlier, I pushed into that loosened hole like there was no tomorrow, going deeper than I thought was possible for a 6 inch cock. How was the cub's internal organs making room? I didn't know. All I knew was that my tapered canine cock was buried deep inside the pup.
Within a few minutes of thrusting, I was cumming like never before inside the wolf cub. It had passed out long before, but his tailhole, despite being used before, was the tightest thing I've felt since my own two paws. I was practically leaping as I came inside him, one leg propped up on the marble sink. My tail was tucked between my legs, an involuntary reaction. Lamar watched from the side lines, not believing how much I was getting into this. Being young and dumb, I was still pumping into the pup as I was cumming; sporadic, painful thrusts, and all of a sudden we both heard a loud "Pop" and the pup and I were tied.
I smiled and wagged my tail as I were a pup who just earned his first Gold Star from his teacher. My cock trapped in such tight hole was an ecstasy I had never experienced before. My panting died down and I tried to quickly pull out. "I'm stuck." I said stoically, surprised yet not not surprised by the physics behind having my knot trapped. I tried pulling again, almost dragging the unconscious pup off the sink.
"Stop, stop, just relax. You saw the videos. Just relax." Lamar said. I nodded quietly. A few minutes passed and my young cock slid right out, followed by a sloppy stream of off-white cum.
"That was fun." I was still seeing rainbows and sunny skies from the coke the older dog had given me earlier.
"Yeah. That's because your a yiffy 16-year-old. When you get my age, you'll think more about the risks. But until then, Fuck the risks. Just don't get caught and you'll be alright." I nodded with a smile and dismounted, zipped my fly and washed my paws.
"So what do we about the pup?" I asked, rubbing the matted fur on it's tummy.
"Leave him." Lamar said unlocking the door, ready to leave and already unamused by what just happened. I felt cold for a moment as he said that.
"Lamar. . . he's not breathing. . ."
* * *
Twenty minutes passed before Lamar stepped out of the shower. The older rotti walked back into the locker room and found his pants. He reached into the pocket and pulled out a knot of old-fashioned paper Credits and looked up at me and back down at the wad of cash. The buff dog counted off ten 100-Credit notes and tucked them into my pocket and walked off whistling an old lullaby as he got dressed. The lion cub helped him get dressed as if it were a task he did daily. They left the way they came in; through the big wooden doors that were open. It was almost dusk and most of the kids were tiring out.
I quickly looked into the shower stall where the deed had been done. The cute little bunny pup was sitting on the floor of the shower crying. "Hey Kid." He didn't look up at me. I backed away as I felt a chill. After 20 years of fighting the urge, I was becoming 'The Big Bad Wolf' again, even by proxy.
* * *
No body reported the incident the next day.
Lamar came to visit me at my apartment and again, the mysterious lion cub trailed him. I have no idea how he found where I lived. It was frightening in a sense.
"No, no. I don't drink anymore, Marty. I'm a completely different wolf nowadays." Lamar chuckled. "Tea? Coffee?" I offered with a smile. I prided myself in my 'tea-and-coffee' rituals I did with guests. "The Society" had outlined several "Aries" Customs like that, mainly borrowed from other cultures.
"Uh, lemmie get some coffee, lots of sugar, lot of cream." he answered looking away from me, almost as if addressing the kitten. I quickly put on a pot in the kitchen. "Look. I came here for a reason, Ken."
"No. I don't do favors anymore. I'm not into that stuff anymore."
"I know, I know. But looking at this place. I'm sure you could use a few extra Credits, hehehe."
"I got a job. Drafter for that Firm downtown. Westley owns it. I'll be making money soon."
"But not soon enough." Lamar said while fiddling with an unlit cigar. "I bet you rented a suit for the interview." I felt a little ashamed. "What you going to wear for the other 364 days?"
"I can get a new one. From the Salvation Army. They donate that kind of stuff for guys like me." I said as positively as I could. The older dog wagged his finger at me and sucked his teeth as if I said something wrong.
"But you deserve better. I hear Calvin Kline has a new line of business suits out. I bet they'll look real nice with a pair of this Italian loafer you see in the windows at those upscale joints. And look at your glasses. You're going to meet this big shot architect downtown and you're looking like a bum. Whatcha gonna wear Monday through Friday? 9 to 5? Those jogging pants and a t-shirt?" He laughed and I tucked my tail between my legs in shame. He had a point. This was the first real job I'd had in years. I can't blow it. I took a deep breath.
"What do I have to do?" Lamar smiled, running a paw through the lion cub's premature mane. He whispered to the pup,
"Go fetch dada and his his friend a cup of coffee, you know how I like it." Without hesitation, or even asking where glasses were, the pup bounded off obediently into the kitchen. I tilted my head to look and see what the pup was doing. To my surprise he was pretty smart. The 4 or 5 year-old found the sugar, the creamer, the cups, and made the coffee. Even turned the pot off when he was done. But then again, if you've seen one kitchen, you've seen them all. The lion cub did as he was told with a smile on his muzzle, even wagging his tail.
Lamar cleared his throat and smiled as he noticed I was watching the pup so intently
"Don't worry. He won't steal. I trained him since before he was in diapers. I think he's going to be my permanent live-in cub. But anyways, I need a reliable camera-wolf who can keep his muzzle shut. I got nice long 1 hour video planned. If you think you can put aside your pussy-assed 'new-life' and film this for me while keeping your muzzle shut, I'll make sure you look good for your new employer. A whole new wardrobe. How does that sound, Kennith?"
I though for less than half a second before agreeing to it. The lion cub came back in with our coffee and handed it to us. Lamar quickly sat his cup down grabbed the little cub by his neck and set him on his back on his lap. "And this cute lil pup is going to be the star!" The big dog cooed and rubbed the lion's tummy. I looked away, trying to keep my composure, reciting in my head,
"Cubs are Furs like you and me.
Treat them nice and leave them be."
It was a silly prose that was so stupid it made me think of other silly stupid things, like that "Leave it to Beaver" show and low-carb diets. I quickly turned the TV on and turned up the volume. The Lady Dictator was in the news making bold statements about the war as she always had. Something about ending it forever and threats to the leader of the People's Republic of Heinrich, the country to the North of here we had been at war with for the past quarter century. I quickly zoned out her speech. It made me angry to the point where I couldn't see anymore. . .
That night, I met Lamar at his apartment downtown. He provided the camera and the entertainment. I did as I was told, silently filming the torture and molestation of the lion cub. I filmed everything, but saw nothing. I was cured. My therapy had worked! I felt nothing for either of them. It was like filming someone grocery shopping, nothing special.
I went home that night, 15 thousand Credits richer and Lamar even gave me a suit for my big day. Tomorrow was going to be special; a new job at the largest architecture firm in the city. The official start of my new life. I needed rest.
* * *
In the elevator
The kid had his arms wrapped around my waist. The building shook again and the sounds of muffled screams were heard. The gravity of the situation had finally set in. The war was here. No longer in a far away country. Not only was there a war between The People's Republic of Heinrich and The Central Republic of Aries, but a war between my new life and my old one.
The assault was on all fronts. Heinrich was bombing the Imperial City of Aries and this cub was ripping apart my restraints. It took Heinrich 25 years to get the balls to invade the most vital metropolis in the country; Aries city. I felt that it would be a long time before anyone would ever find us in the after math. Who knows what was going on outside. Despite being in the core of the building, the pup and I could could hear the planes dropping bombs, leveling the city. He held me tighter.
It took all the strength I had to push aside my sick fantasies. Kangaroo was a rare delicacy; eggs over sausage.
"It'll be okay, kid. Just calm down. Your uncle Kennith Clark is going to take care of you." I lied. I was as helpless as he was but I didn't want him to know that. "What's your name?" I asked. He shivered as if it were 12 degrees inside the elevator shaft.
"M-my name's Antonio." the scared pup managed to say. I held him close, taking off his cap to gently pet his headfur. It was the first time I'd touched a kid in almost two decades. My ears perked as I heard the shrill cry of a swarm of planes flying overhead. We were in one of the tallest buildings in the area. It wouldn't be long before we were toppled.
I sat down on the floor of the elevator car, guiding the pup down with me. We sat together silently for a long time in the dark. My large paw gently stroked his short fur in slow, measured motions to help him relax. Antonio shivered as he cried, occasionally wiping his tears on my suit jacket. I felt . . . warm, holding him in my arms.
For these moments, I got a taste of what being a father must feel like. I had forgotten my past wrong-doings and my feelings of lust, hatred, greed and envy all dissolved. There was a sudden drive in me to protect this child; fatherly instincts. The muffled sounds of screams and terror washed away and there was only the sounds of my breathing and Antonio's whimpering.
I wondered what he was thinking, the kind of thoughts that made him whimper without stopping. "I miss my mommy" "Where's my daddy" "I'm afraid of the dark" A chill ran up my spine and a tear ran down my cheek as horrible thoughts ran through my mind. What if his parents were Purchased? What if they were in the military? What if they were already dead? What if we step out of this elevator and I'm the only one he has left in the world. . . and he was all that I had in the world?
My throat cleared on it's own, without my conscious command, and an ancient lullaby came from my lips. Maybe I had heard it before when I was Antonio's age, 40 or 50 years ago, sang to me as I lay awake in my bed crying on a cold winter's night. Maybe I was given a warm glass of milk. Maybe my father hugged me and told me it was just a nightmare. And maybe . . . just maybe he tucked me in and kissed me on the cheek and stayed by my side until I fell asleep.
But I never had a father. I never had a bed. And I most certainly never had a home when I was a pup.
Maybe, just maybe I'm cured of my evil thoughts. Maybe this was all I needed.
The kangaroo pup was huddled against me, as if he were my very own son. I smiled and before long, he smiled back. Twenty years of suffering. That how long it takes to redeem one's soul.
An hour passed and the building shook one last time in a violent orgasmic tremor as a shell hit one of the lower floors. The steel skeleton of the building groaned and cried. The brakes gave out. But still, I smile. We were airborne, but still, I smile. The frightened kangaroo pup hugged me tight, a look of sudden bewilderment in his eyes as if he just now realized he was going to die. But still, I smile. The echo in elevator shaft became more and more high pitched. But still, I rise. With one kiss on the cheek, I throw the boy into the air. But still, I smile. As I let go I felt his heart calm. And still, I smile.
The crash was spectacular. Sparks flew and twisted metal from the brushed aluminum door impaled my leg and chest. I was conscious just long enough to feel a weight gently land in my lap. And still, I smile.
End.