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Disclaimer: This is a terrible story about bad things happening to innocent people. It contains pedophelia, rape, violence, death, and a general assortment of the worst things that can happen to people.

The longer the series goes on, the worse it will get. It will not get better.

If you are going to read this story, then you are going to be older than 18 years old, and if you're under that, then you're turning away right now. If you read it, and are under 18, then I'm not responsible for anything terrible that happens to you.

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Chapter1

Who are you? Ask yourself that, because it's a more important question than you think. Are you a liar? A hero? A hypocrite?

Daniel was a normal person, once- he was an average cub with average parents. He was the right person, you could say. And one night, he found himself in the wrong place. Sometimes lives are hard, and sometimes fate is unimaginative in it's cruelty. What Daniel saw and experienced was not new in any way, nor was it creative. It simply happened to him, of all people.

At the time, all the kit understood was that he was a six-year-old weasel living with his parents in a four room apartment in Vermont. Daniel was a bit stringy for such a little guy. His eyes were a little bad, so he wore dark rimmed glasses that looked a little too big for his face. They rimmed his green eyes, and complimented his fur, which was as white as the driven snow, except for his ears, the tips of which were black. That was a feature he had inherited from his father, who ran for the hills when he found Daniel's mother kneeling over a positive pregnancy test, vomiting and calling his name.

He never knew his father. So far as he knew, no such person existed- he was simply where and who he was, which became his ultimate philosophy as an adult. As a kit, Daniel was absolutely fascinated with math, which would eventually characterize who he was going to become. His teachers loved how he'd work on his addition and subtraction, and even his multiplication, which the rest of the class hadn't even learned yet. He simply had the drive, the zest, the zeal for academics, and his teaches loved him to bits because of it.

Sure it made him a little bit of a nerd in front of his classmates, but he was doing something he liked, right? He was having fun doing something so orderly and neat. Things only worked one way in math, and that was the only thing that mattered, after all.

But math also gave him freedom. If you had too many, subtract. If you didn't have enough, add. And when you were really hurting, you could multiply and multiply and multiply! That's what made him so good. And he could do it forever and ever, there wasn't a limit. As long as someone knew what to do, they could make all sorts of neat things happen.

The rules were simple, and the possibilities infinite. Nothing escaped explanation; there was just order. Control. As long as you did it right, you could do anything you wanted. Anything at all.

His classmates didn't quite get it, no matter how hard he tried to explain himself (And he tried hard, at first). Everyone merely thought that Daniel was a little quiet, and that he didn't like any of the fun games that everyone else played, so they just... left him alone. Picking on him wasn't very fun. Everything Daniel did was very methodical, and he didn't sweat little things, so getting him to react was a chore. Why even bother with targets like that?

Besides, if the other kids didn't think he was cool, he'd simply subtract them. Their opinions didn't matter anyway.

Angie was Daniel's mother. Supposedly, her love for her son ran deep- but she was a very methodical woman, and strict to boot. His name was ‘Daniel' instead of Danny or any pet name, and her name was ‘mother' instead of mom. Those were the rules. She was a petite woman (also a weasel) with blue eyes and soft, evenly grey fur. Her neighbors insisted that she didn't have a sinful bone in her body, and were genuinely shocked when they learned what happened to her. It just didn't seem possible.

As for how she treated Daniel: she was never condescending, and she was never harsh, or even critical. She was simply silent, to the point of smothering muteness. Angie would wander around the house, cleaning and keeping track of his toys (which he rarely played with, even on especially boring days) and making sure everything was neat and orderly in the apartment. And she never said a word. There was simply nothing to say, for her.

Of course, she was always in order, too. Her hair was always done up in a bun the way her husband liked, and she was very pretty according to Daniel. He had vivid memories of being just a tiny little baby, maybe only a year old. She would hold him and look into his eyes and tell him he was special, stroking his ears with a loving paw and smiling with that warm pleasant grin that she would sport on rare occasion.

Even at six years old, Danny missed being held sometimes. Still, he could tell she still loved him very much, even if she didn't say it anymore. She told him through her blue eyes. That was what Daniel liked most about her.

He loved the way she'd look at him with those eyes. No one else would look at him like that. No one else made him feel like that.

As for Daniel's stepfather, he was a noted police officer, and a serious drinker. According to Daniel's mother, he used to be strong and brave and handsome. A picturesque vision of iron law, defending the weak and punishing the wicked. At least, that's how the weasel woman saw him. Anyone who heard Angie speak on his behalf would swear she was telling the truth, but one look at the mottled canine told otherwise.

Daniel's father was a wolf. Stephan married Angie about a year after Daniel was born, and whatever he had charmed the young weasel with, he didn't have it anymore. Years of hard work had made his eyes sunken, and years of hard drinking had made his gut fat and his temper short. Sometimes, at night, he could hear Stephan growling at his mother like he was hungry. That growl would turn into yelling, and then furious drunken screaming. The first time little Daniel heard it, he thought a monster had broken into the apartment. The thought alone would violently jerk him from his sleep, and he would start to cry.

"Would you PLEASE get that little shit to shut the fuck up?" his father would drunkenly snarl, and his mother would silently agree, coming in to comfort little Daniel. She'd often find him shaking with fear, the tears streaming down his muzzle. Angie would hug him close, and he would smell her dress and everything would be ok. It smelled like the shampoo she used when she took her afternoon shower. Secure in her arms, the weasel kit was assured he would live through the night.

Daniel would picture himself far away on those awful nights. Maybe he would be on a beach, or way up on a mountain. And the monsters would be gone, too. They would disappear from his mind, running far away, ignoring him completely. His step-father's voice would echo, even in his perfect world. On the sea, on the mountain, anywhere he went. But if Daniel thought hard enough, he could keep anything out, no matter how distracting. It was his trademark focus, and his greatest strength.

He'd start adding in his head, first with one, then adding the sum and the last number together. One and one was two, two and one was three, three and two was five, five and two was seven.... And by the time he'd gotten into the high triple digits, he'd be fast asleep, and his mother would tuck him in, and secretly lock his door, returning downstairs for the rest of her beating. Bruises don't show up under darker fur.

On one disgustingly hot, sticky night in the dead of July, Daniel woke up to the sound of a door being slammed repeatedly. He picked himself off of the bed, and the weasel kit crept over to the door and pressed one triangular, fuzzy ear against it. He could hear the sound of sobbing, and chills ran up his spine.

Where was mother?

"How long?! How long have you been seeing him, you bitch!?" Daniel heard another slam. A lady's voice screamed in pain, her frightened sobs sharpening to pained, wet coughs. Where was mother?

Daniel heard everything from beyond the door. His mother told Stephan that she didn't know anything, that she wasn't seeing anyone. But that was a goddamn lie. A fucking LIE, Angie! Stephan wasn't an idiot- but he still managed to marry a stupid fucking whore. The weasel kit had heard those words before, and they'd always sent him running to his room for safety.

The sound of a door slamming again and again echoed in little Daniel's ears, and he thought briefly of climbing out the window and running away. His paw lingered near the doorknob, torn between opening it and saving his mother, or running for his young life.

"You greasy cunt! You didn't think I'd find out?!" The wolf's voice was slurring badly add filled with malice pent up from years of feeling inadequate. He was a wolf who was finally getting what he wanted. Taking it, like a wolf should.

Daniel didn't hear the next part. For years in his adult life, he would think long and hard about those moments, but for all the thought in the world, he couldn't remember exactly what he had heard. But he remembered what he saw, oh yes. That night, when his little paw turned the doorknob just enough, and pushed...

The image of his step dad, Stephan, standing over his mother was carved wickedly into his brain. The hulking black wolf was near the entrance, his vice-like paw gripping the wooden door so hard, splinters were breaking off around his claws. The other was undoing his tie.

His jeans were down around his ankles, and a fat lupine cock drizzled precum all over of the broken muzzle of Daniel's mother, who was sobbing wildly. She was bleeding out of her eyes, ears and nose from having her head crushed again and again by a heavy door- and Daniel could smell it all like a haze. Thick red mucus oozed from her mouth. She turned her head a little, and moaned incoherently, stretching out a weak paw for her son.

There was a little sputter, a pathetic noise produced by her heaving lungs, desperate to draw a breath that wouldn't come. He knew it was a special sound that he might never hear again, and he made a place for it in his memory. Despite everything, his brain couldn't seem to settle- even seeing what he saw, Daniel knew something was out of place. His mother...

Something was wrong with her face.

Time began to flow again. Angie's body twitched violently as Daniel's throat began to scream against his will, his green eyes wide with shock. The little kit barely had time to look at her broken body before his stepfather turned his head, his eyes locking with Daniel's watery gaze. The weasel kit flinched. In a minute the grizzled wolf was over there, clutching his neck and forcing him against the wall of his bedroom, dangling his puny body over a chest of toys.

"What are YOU doing up, you sniveling shit? Shouldn't you be in bed?" His breath was disgusting. "She said I was fat! Said I had a small prick! Said I couldn't handle a fuck right now. Well look at what I can do, just by closing a door." Stephan pressed his grinning jaws right into Daniel's face, his satisfaction growing visibly at the sight of his stepson shrinking away.

"I fucking handled her all right."

Stephan's lips curled back into a snarl, his black paw taking the cub's glasses and throwing them across the room. For a minute, Daniel felt a little better, because he couldn't see the monster's face. He imagined he was at a beach, or.... or.... or.... where?! Where was he!? The monster pressed his muzzle against Daniel's eye socket, kissing violently, and licking at the tear stains in the cub's fur.

"I told her to suck me off. Did you see what I did to her mouth?" Daniel couldn't breathe. Where was this place? Where was this? His body quaked and quivered with fear, shuddering with every whiff of the wolf's vile breath. It was hot against his face. One....two.... three.... f-five.... e...e-eight....

"...But I still want to fuck something." The monster opened his devouring jaws wide, and pressed them up against Daniel's neck, his thick lupine tongue slurping wetly against the weasel kit's fur. Stephan could feel his son's heartbeat on his tongue, and it made him pause to enjoy it. Daniel could almost hear the pleasant half-growl through the pounding in his ears.

His legs kicked uselessly against the beast's chest. He lost his hearing as his head was slammed up against the wall, and for a second, the world of sight ebbed away with it. The cub could feel his body falling, and he hit the floor with a cracking sound.

"Don't make me close your head in the door, now." The wolf licked his lips, the drool hanging off of his muzzle.

Daniel nodded inadvertently, sniffing and clutching is muzzle. A little blood was dripping from his nose. His PJ's smelled like pee, and his legs were wet and warm. Stephen, of course would have none of that faggot sniffling. It wasn't even his real son. Besides, the smell was egging him on.

The fat-ass lupine jerked the door closed, stopping barely half and inch from Daniel's head. He couldn't stop his laugh when the cub flinched and let out an ashamed whimper. Stephans's eyes unfocused a little bit. Why had he waited so long to do this? It felt so good. He was finally free to do whatever he wanted. And he wanted Daniel. Jesus, he wanted that kid BAD tonight.

Kneeling down, he pressed his wolfish muzzle against Daniel's, his rough tongue lapping up a little bit of the blood and snot oozing from the weasel's nose. Stephan's paw pulled sharply on his stepson's jammies, pulling off his underwear. The smell only made his throbbing erection worse, and he made a strange howling moan. Stephan bent his body over the cub like he was bending it over his mother, a dominant male over a submissive, weak prey, stroking his girth the entire time.

Thirteen... Twenty-one... thirty four.... fifty five. It was getting hard to concentrate. Daniel tried his best to stay conscious as his little body was stripped naked and paralyzed with fear. The weasel kit's mind couldn't process anything at all, now. He could smell the sharp scent of arousal, through the acrid scent of wolf-sweat and his own blood. His throat let out a pathetic moan as he turned over to crawl away.

Stephen had had enough. He was fucking this kid, and it was time to stop toying with him. He shoved his burning, wolfish pride under his stepson's tail.

There was a satisfying tearing sound, but the sound the naked little weasel kit's throat made was the real treat. It was beautiful, music to the wolf's predator ears. It was a mix of pain and terror, suffering and disgust. It drove Stephan's instincts wild, and soon his entire adult shaft was buried. Daniel felt something rip inside of him, and he could feel warm fluid mat the fur on his legs.

It hurt.

And then Stephen heard the gunfire.

Frightened and bleeding, he began to crawl away. The monster was letting him leave. It would all be ok, if he could just leave. He could go.... to the mountains. Of Colorado. Daniel had heard there were mountains in Colorado. Eighty nine, one hundred forty four... Daniel hardly realized he was counting out loud.

He could feel his whole body burning with pain as the kit forced it to claw its way to the door. His insides felt all messed up, and somebody was barking orders, and there were footsteps...

Little six-year-old Daniel made it to the door, where his body collapsed. The world faded and brightened before him. It ebbed, and seeped. Light and color leaked into everything- nothing made sense. There was a face, a female face, looking at him. It was still wrong, though. Her beautiful blue eyes had popped out from their sockets, and were lying on the floor. One was crushed into the wood, nothing more than a mix of jelly and blood. His mother's pretty eyes, destroyed.

And still they shone. Still, he loved them. Even if they were broken, he loved them like they were new.

The weasel kit fell away from his shifting, burning reality- his body was in shock. He was rushed to a hospital immediately, where he woke up alone and drugged to near lifelessness.

Danny was taken away to a foster home. He went to his mom's funeral, and he saw his old man off as he was put on trial and sentenced to life in prison. His life would be a daze for two years. Constant nightmares would keep him from sleeping, and his already awkward sociality would keep him from having any friends in school. He would continue to practice math, with renewed vigor. Very soon, he was known throughout the local school as a 'whiz', which didn't help his social life any. His foster parents, two old tigers, took care of him, despite how cold and un-childlike he was for a third grader.

He still liked to play outside, occasionally.

It was a cool day in August when he found his first bird, a baby robin chick on the ground, near a tree. Danny was playing in a sandbox when he saw it.

He was eight years old then. Old enough to begin his first 'hobby'.