Rest Stop Chapter 1
All the characters in this story belong to me and no one else. Please enjoy and comment.
Dust and rocks kicked against the navy hide of the old Delta Eighty Eight as it rattled and chugged along the old paved Kentucky road on a hot and dry spring afternoon. Green destination signs blew by the Eighty Eight in the warm air. The air carried into the car the sweet smell of pine, but there weren't any pine trees in the area, just the little scented air-freshener that hung from the rearview mirror which mimicked the scent quite accurately.
A single hubcap was missing on the rear right tire; possibly had been stolen unbeknownst to the driver. A shiny chrome canine skull rested on the hood of the car and its maw hung open in a muted scream as wind curled through its teeth. All over the old thing rested splotches of red/orange rust spanning from fender to fender. Donning its nickname, the Rustbox Eighty Eight, as it was scrawled in red spray paint along the left side of the car. The driver was in a terrible mood when he found out that his friend wrote it on the car and that got him even angrier, but he never got around to washing it off. So, the name was permanently branded there, like duct taped embarrassment for the rest of its life, but it looked like it was on its last legs anyway. Welts were stretched all across the old beast, showing off its mighty scars as it roared down the road like an old feral lion that had been in many battles. Other than all the rust, dents, and paint peels it ran well for an old junker and that's what Xavier loved about his car.
Now, Xavier was a very unusually tall white fruit bat even for his age, being eighteen years old. It would be very easy to spot him in a crowd, because he stood at a whopping seven feet and six inches; the tallest in his family, including his family history. Despite his height, however, he was very quiet and secluded, keeping to himself most of the time. Oh, and as an added bonus, he was Goth as well, making him more intimidating. In perfect contrast to his fur color, his hair was a natural jet black, short and shaggy mop atop his head. His eyesight was inherited from his father, causing him to wear contacts on his icy blue eyes in contrast to his roots as fruit bats had naturally good eyesight. On his shoulders, his fleshy membrane wings were folded against his back underneath his black one hundred percent cotton button-up t-shirt, which was a very comfortable fit for him. His black nail polished right paw rested on the bottom of the steering wheel; his uncle used to do that often and he just sort of gained it as a habit. He gave out a soft murr as he relaxed against the driver's seat with his seat belt gently pressing against his slightly moving chest and flat stomach as he watched the road attentively. His window was open, wafting in the soft cool breeze of spring air, mixing with the scent of the air-freshener as his music from his Rammstein mix CD softly blew with the wind in the car. A muzzle of a very jittery lion appeared between the front seats of the car and spoke.
"Hey, how much longer ‘til the next rest stop, man?" Joey asked impatiently with his legs so tightly crossed that they could snap a fresh branch right from a tree. Xavier looked on ahead and noticed a blue rest stop sign coming up. With his free paw, he pointed it out in the gliding grass to the nervous cat.
"Next rest stop, two miles," the bat read in a gentle quiet tone as the sign whizzed by the windows. Joey sat back in his seat on the left side and nodded, still clasping his legs together to keep from bursting. "You shouldn't have gotten extra large, Joey," he said matter-of-factly. Joey just nodded again, remembering how thirsty he was when he got the giant soda in the first place. Such a dry and papery throat he had at the time. The empty cup sat in the front seat armrest of the car, mocking him, laughing at him. He cringed to look at the still perspiring soda cup, but he did anyway, fueling his bladder worse than before. ‘Don't look,' he told himself, ‘just don't look and the feeling will go away . . . hopefully.'
The eighteen year old lion boy had tan fur that spanned over his entire form, almost a golden color. Unlike his tall friend, Xavier, Joey was only average height, making him easier to lose in a crowd. Very talkative and outgoing, he was the complete opposite of his tall friend, making him a good candidate for friendship. A pair of black rimmed glasses rested upon his muzzle, showcasing his smooth chocolate eyes for the world to see and admire. The tan fingers on his paws danced lightly on his loose Old Navy blue jeans, trying to take his mind off his bladder for the time being. All for naught, though. Splattered across his black cotton t-shirt was the name "SlipKnoT," one of his favorite metal bands of all time, and possibly of all eternity for him. A wave of long scarlet hair washed down in a gentle fall from the top of his head, the same red as the tuft of fur on the tip of his tail, which was twitching with anticipation of wanting to pee. The cool breeze from the driver's side window sure didn't help his situation very much either. A cold shiver ran through him as he bounced his attentive knees, hoping to clear his mind. However, his knees stopped bouncing when a black speckled white paw rested itself on his left thigh and stroked it tenderly; reassuring him that everything was alright.
"We're almost there," Mark said in a soothing tone. Joey nodded slowly, purring as the paw continued to calm his leg down.
Mark was a snow leopard who was the middle one in height and the same age as the other two. He reached five feet and seven inches, an inch and a half taller than his boyfriend, Joey. He was a very quiet individual, but laid back and easy going, making him an easy one to get along with despite the fact. Blessed with good vision, he was the only one in his group of friends who didn't need corrective eyewear for his soft blue eyes. His white and black paw stroked over Joey's thigh tenderly as he purred gently, enjoying the feeling of Joey's leg. A soft river of combed platinum hair hung short from his head with a beautiful sheen as it gleamed in the light of the spring sun. Being a horror fan, his black shirt read "WHAT WOULD JASON DO?" in white bold letters with a picture of a hockey mask on the back of the shirt. Kissing Joey's left cheek he spoke softly into his ear, trying to clam his apparently restless kitten.
"Can you handle the next mile and a half, babe?" he whispered sensually into Joey's attentive ear as it twitched from the cool breath. His kitten shivered from the smooth, warm words that rolled into his ears. Then a small wet muscle stroked Joey's left cheek, leaving small wet trails matting down the fur as it glided across the warming cheek, causing Joey's eyes to roll back into his head in ecstasy. The lion sighed warmly as he knew he was loved by his leopard lover.
"Hey, be careful back there," chuckled Xavier as he glanced at the two in the back through his rearview mirror, "don't want to relax him too much. I just put new upholstery down on the seats." The two in the back laughed as well with him.
"Putting new upholstery in the Rustbox is like hanging new curtains in a morgue," Mark rifted. The whole car roused with laughter from this remark. After the laughing fit, however, Joey remembered his bladder and started to whimper as his legs clenched shut again. The turn-off came up and an old rusty rest stop sign was bent to one side as it came into view when they drove past. Below the old sign, rested in the tall grass, was a rusted and dented yellow sign that read "CLOSED" in bold black letters.
*******
The rest stop building itself seemed old and worn out, untouched. The paint was peeling or bleaching from the sun as creepers climbed the walls like dreaded fingers trying to pull the house into the starving ground. A few glass windows were broken or cracked, barely even shiny because of all the grime that was smeared all over them. The grass around the area was stretching to the sky, almost as if they wanted to lick the heavens with their long green tongues. Rolling from the front of the building was the walkway pavement, which had so many cracks in it as if it were ice snapping during a warm day in winter. The whole place looked like it would give way any second, but it seemed to stand on its last legs stubbornly like an old mule. Sweet relief, right? Joey could care less what it looked like, actually. All he cared about was his bladder and emptying it.
The car slowed and veered for a parking spot. Resting in between two barely visible yellow lines, the car parked and Xavier shut off the engine as he plucked the keys from the ignition. The lion struggled with his belt as he tried frantically to open the door simultaneously, which really didn't help him out at all. Finally, the belt clicked and retracted fast back to the seat with the door snapping open and him dashing out like he was about to be shot on the spot if he didn't escape fast enough. The fruit bat slid his keys into his back pocket and leaned against the Rustbox as the leopard got out and went up to the snack machine with candy on mind. Xavier watched his friends walk and run up to the old thing that stood there, Joey disappearing into the men's room and Mark stopping in front of the candy machine. He chuckled softly at this display his friends gave him, murring to himself.
*******
Mark's dollar slid into the machine and gears ground loudly together, only to spit the little green slip back out. He plucked the dollar and did the old trick of getting rid of the creases and bends by rubbing it against a corner of the machine to straighten out the slip. It slid into the slot, the gears ground again, and it popped right back out as if the machine was sticking out its green tongue to mock the angered leopard. He snatched the dollar in a huff as his tail twitched and crumbled the dollar in his paw as he stomped his sneakers on the shattered cement on his way back to the car.
"You got a dollar?" he asked kindly the best he could with his tail twitching in irritation, holding out his paw for a dollar. Xavier held back the giggles as he dug into his wallet and plucked out a fresh new dollar for the snow leopard. "It's not funny," he snapped as he snatched the dollar from his friend's open paw, replacing it with his crumpled anger ball. He stormed off towards the spiteful machine, his tail still twitching in slight irritation. 'I'll take that as a "Thank you,"' Xavier thought as he chuckled, watching this display of his friend verses the machine, round two.
The snow white leopard came up to the evil candy machine, ready to try again with a new dollar in his paw. The dollar slid in with ease and the machine gears yet again ground out for what seemed like forever until . . . it beeped and he could choose the numbers on the selection panel! Mark sighed heavily, relieved that the new dollar was accepted. He punched in the numbers "C-4" as he purred softly, wanting his Crunch Bar. The machine accepted his selection and the steel coil started to spin, but stopped just before the candy bar could fall. Mark was awe struck as his candy was hanging from the edge of the coil, calling to him, "Shake me down," the candy seemed to say. Was he thinking it, or was it actually talking to him? His right eyelid twitched as anger welled up deep in the pit of his stomach, riding up his spine and into his mind and back out of his paws as he lashed out at the machine. His clenched paws landed steadily and hard against the Plexiglas screen that held his precious bar just out of his reach, trying his hardest to break through the see-through wall. Demanding the machine, begging the machine, pleading the machine to surrender the chocolaty goodness that was rightfully his Crunch Bar. Finally, after a good beating, the candy slipped from the coil and landed with a slight thud into the drop box. A smile slid across his muzzle as he finally had the bar right where he wanted it. He reached down, but was greeted with a sudden stop. He was puzzled as he pushed harder on the door to the drop box, but with no luck. It wouldn't budge. Bending down to inspect the drop box, he noticed something he didn't notice before; a padlock. He just about fainted from frustration and exhaustion. Dejected of his chocolaty goodness he dragged his sneakers, stumbling once and a while over raised cement chunks, back towards the car with his black spotted ivory tail sagging sadly behind him. The flying fox noticed this poor pouting creature, Mark, as he came down the cracked pavement and leaned against the car, his frown flowing like it was crying. Xavier felt the need to comfort his friend to the best of his knowledge.
"Don't worry, man, at the next rest stop, we'll get that bar," Xavier said in a warm tone, trying to sooth the whimpering white and black mass that was leaning against his car.
"It's not that," sniffled the frosty white feline as he picked up his frowning muzzle, "all that hard work, the exchange of the dollars, and for what?" He lowered his head and huffed out: "Only to realize that the drop box is locked."
A large paw rested on top of the frowning kitty's shoulder and gave it a tender stroke as Xavier repeated, "At the next rest stop, we'll get that candy bar, huh?" A warm smile crossed his lips and the kitty smiled as well, feeling regained gladness as he purred softly at his tall friend.
"Yeah, good idea," he purred, "I can wait just a little longer." The cat's grin grew wider and the two of them laughed about the candy machine. More like laughing at it to be more accurate.
*******
The lion boy shook his hips gently to get those last two drops out before he zipped up his fly so he wouldn't be victim to the dreaded last-two-drops-in-the-pants bit and strapped in his buckle. Feeling relieved, he strolled from his urinal to the sinks purring and giggling while talking to himself.
"Man, I had to go real bad, didn't I?" he said giggling softly. The vibrating of his voice ricocheted off the dirty tiles that lined the walls of the grungy restroom, giving it its trademark hollow-yet-musical tone. "Great acoustics," he commented giggling as his voice echoed again, "if Maynard recorded his vocals for 'Reflection' in this bathroom, it sure would sound excellent." In front of him seemed to stand a solitary rusty sink with a dirty vanity mirror hanging just above it still hooked into the wall, but barely. In most cases, the restroom would have a single linoleum counter dented with sinks and one long mirror spanning the entire length of the dented countertop as well as clean tiled floors and walls. The stalls would be neat and not covered in graffiti. Plus, the urinals would be pearly white and a urinal cake would rest in the bottom of each one, giving the room a pleasantly fresh and clean scent. This restroom, however, wasn't like that at all, not even close.
The restroom itself had a hollow musty smell, but not strong enough to make someone gag from it. Dirt and grime ran up the walls like the creepers outside did, reaching for the ceiling. Cobwebs swung one foot from the ceiling to try and grab an unsuspecting person in its dirty grip and wrap them up tightly. Also hanging from the ceiling blinked some fluorescent lights, giving the room a dimly lit light blue color. Along the left wall ran four individual sinks with mirrors just above them and, where four soaps would sit, only one pale green soap sat on the lip of the end sink. Beside the final sink sat an old rusty crowbar that someone probably forgot about, with its crooked head resting on the same wall as the sinks were attached to. Across the sinks were the restroom stalls along the right wall. On the stalls were written numerous gang names and symbols and other things that were disgusting. On the right side of the stalls, filling up the rest of the right wall, were the dirty urinals stained with piss rust and no urinal cake had filled either one of them. The high windows were cracked in webs or busted open as if they were forced open by a person that really needed to use the can. It was like stepping ten or twenty years forward in time and looking at the aftermath of the restroom.
"Not a pleasant looking place," Joey grimaced as his nose curled, "but sweet relief nonetheless." He crossed over to the final rusty sink with the mint colored soap on the lip. His paws spun the knobs of the old sink and . . . nothing. No water came gushing out of the rusted head of the faucet. He snatched the soap and walked to the next sink, only to find that it was bone dry as well. And so was the third. "Please work, please work, please work," he chanted quietly wanting to wash his dirty paws. Resting his paws on the knobs, he gave them a spin and water rushed out like a waterfall as he sighed warmly. His paws hovered just below the weeping head of the faucet, the cool water starting to warm up as it glided through his paw fur. The soap was mint colored as he purred picking it up and stroked it between his paws to lather them up nicely. He washed his fingers and claws, his paws, and his paw pads under the now steaming water. He absolutely loved hot water, which ran up a big bill at home all the time when he took a shower or bath, especially when he and Mark shared a shower or a bath together. He didn't really care about the water bill too much, because Mark was paying that bill anyway. Giggling softly, he worked his paws some more under the hot water.
A cracked grinning face stared back at him as he looked into the mirror. The crack seemed to glide right across his left cheek like a scar or a gash or . . . a stall door creaked suddenly and quietly, but audible nonetheless. He snapped his head back to inspect the stalls individually for where the sound may have originated from and noticed the first stall door was creaked open slightly.
"Hello?" his voice echoed hollowly on the tiles in the room. His nervousness slid through him as he realized how scary this room really was when he continued. "Is someone there?" Silence. "Mark, Xavier?" More Silence. "If this is a joke, then I'm not laughing at all," he said angrily, but started to stare at the open stall with wide eyes as he asked: "are you in there, babe?" Still no answer. After a while, he heaved out a sudden sigh as no one answered at all, shrugging it off as nothing and said, "Must be the wind or something." He went back to focusing on washing his paws under the soothingly hot water as he purred softly to himself, feeling relieved that it was just the wind. At least that's what he wanted to believe what it was.
*******
Something brushed against Xavier's butt, causing him to gasp in surprise. "Mark, you perverted bastard!" he exclaimed as his open paw connected with Mark's right cheek in an audible smack. Mark yelped in pain at the sudden smack and curled away from his tall friend in shock. His paw shot up to immediately stroke the pounding cheek as he whimpered from the stinging sensation that was left behind from the collision.
"Ouch, what was that for?" he whimpered, the stinging started to subside into a dull tingle as he stroked his tender cheek gently. Xavier's paws balled into angry fists as frustration shot through him, welling up deep inside him as his cheeks heated up with embarrassment. Mark was notorious to give someone, anyone with a cute butt, a squeeze, but he never squeezed Xavier. Not once in the entire time they have been friends has Mark ever squeezed his bum, but it seems that Mark has finally copped a feel, or so Xavier thought.
"You groped my ass, you size queen," Xavier huffed out, his paws still balled up in a dull fury. 'He's never touched my ass before,' he thought as his friend still babied his cheek, whimpering softly.
"How could I have touched your ass if I was standing two feet away from you?" Mark asked with his paw still resting on his cheek, no longer stroking it. "Better yet," the angered frosty cat said in a slightly raised tone, almost yelling, "how could I do it if my paws were in my pockets the whole time?" He was right. His paws were in his pockets the whole time when something brushed Xavier's bottom. The hair on his tail pricked up in anger as he continued to speak fervently to his angered and confused bat friend: "Also, you would have seen my arm and paw move up to grope that ass of yours." The frustrated and humiliated leopard huffed angrily as his glare was almost burning a hole in his friend's eyes, staring deeply and angrily at the flying fox. Xavier's paws loosened their grip as he sighed heavily, expelling all the anger in one breath while he leaned back against the Rustbox Eighty Eight.
"Sorry, man," he breathed out after his thoughts gathered; "I don't know what came over me." His head leaned down in apology to look at the lot and saw a small brown pebble. He gave it a kick and it went spinning into the tall grass. The grass split as the little meteor came crashing through and landed in the soft dirt below the green canopy. 'Dammit, I always jump to conclusions,' he thought watching the aftermath of his little kick, 'I gotta stop doing that.'
"It's alright," the ivory colored ebony spotted feline said after he thought it over a little, still fuming from the slap his gothic bat friend gave him as a present for his "assumed" ass-grope. "It isn't your fault, man, or even mine for that matter," he said as he looked at his brooding friend under his black hair. Xavier snapped up his head suddenly, giving his friend a sudden jump at the action. "What is it, man?" asked the cat with surprise written all over his face.
"Then who, or what, touched my ass?" the flying fox pondered. Mark only shrugged his shoulders as he leaned against the car. Xavier saw this and leaned as well, still a bit suspicious of his kitty friend.
After a little while, Mark said, "You do have a nice, tight butt though." Mark giggled and purred as he reeled up for a new slap. It never came.
"Just shut up," Xavier laughed softly. The two laughed and giggled together as they started to talk about the cute butts they had seen in school and all of them Mark had given a hard squeeze.
"So," Mark said, changing the subject, "how much longer until we get to Florida for spring break?" Xavier blinked at the sudden question and turned his head onto the road, as if to survey the distance from here to Florida.
"Not sure, maybe two more days or so," He answered. It was spring break and the three of them were on their way to Ozzfest, which was the biggest rock festival in all of America, in Florida. "I hear both Slipknot and Marilyn Manson are going to play there," he said murring softly as a grin curled on his lips. Slipknot and Marilyn Manson were two of Xavier's favorite bands on the face of the earth. The two of them smiled and giggled as they thought of the great time they'd have at Ozzfest: the mosh pits, the smell of musk and adrenalin of the leaping and colliding fans, the food, the drinks, the parties, seeing the different bands play, the hangovers, the headaches, the constant asking of "What?" when someone had said something . . . only these wonderful thoughts were going to be short lived.
*******
"What, no paper towels?" the lion asked frustratingly as his paw spun the handle on the paper towel dispenser, only to be given dust as it fell from the slot where paper towels were supposed to come from. Water dripped from his sopping wet paws and fell to the dirty tiled floor reviving the dried fluids that caked them, giving them their original liquid state. His paw stopped spinning the handle and he fumed with slight irritation as he turned away from the towel dispenser. "Now what?" he muttered as he looked around the room. Then an idea popped into his feline mind, his tail swung happily with this new revelation.
The first stall door slammed open as he surveyed the stall. A seemingly fresh roll of toilet paper sat on the spool at his disposal. Purring in relief, he grabbed the end of the roll and spooled off a good length for his still soaking wet paws and wrapped them up in the wonderful two-ply. After his paws were dry, he had to dispose of the ball of wet toilet paper. A dirty toilet sat near the back wall, almost calling to him to throw the paper ball into it. So, he lifted the lid of the toilet only to be greeted with the most noxious of smells to ever assault his nostrils. The sweet smell of road kill and limburger cheese with a side of skunk spray. His stomach lurched hard at the sight and smell of the disgusting brown and black soup in the bowl. It bubbled and his paw flew up to his muzzle to hold his stomach in tightly as his eyes watered slightly from the steaming fumes of the mass in the bowl. He tossed the balled up toilet paper into the bowl. It bounced on the rancid water mass and floated to the back of the bowl as bubbles pushed it backwards. He slammed the lid shut quick and exhaled a big breath of trapped air from his lungs.
"God, that stinks," he gagged as he wiped the scent out of the air with his free paw the best he could, "what did this guy eat . . . geez." He had no intention of flushing the handle of that vile soup bowl anytime soon. "BLEAGH!" he coughed out a dry heave as something on the stall wall caught his eye and turned over to see what it was.
Writings ran along the walls in adult handwriting and cub handwriting. The lion held his lunch the best he could as he read them chuckling. "Waldor wuz hear," "For a good time, call . . . Your Mama," "Taste the rainbow here," "Obama 4Evar," "Obama butt-raped McCain," and so many other "delightful" and "witty" phrases. He couldn't help but laugh as he said, "Yep, the only place where you can read about sexual perversions and political opinions in the same place . . . hey, just like Bill Clinton." He couldn't help but laugh at his own riff. Well, curiosity killed the cat, because he wanted to read more as he exited the stall and went to the next with a bit of excitement welling up inside him.
The next stall had all sorts of things quite like the last one, but he noticed something near the center on the left side of the stall. "INSERT DICK HERE QUEER" it read in bold letters with a quickly drawn red arrow pointing to a hole just below the quote, big enough to accommodate one. "Ew, who knows what kind of diseases might be crawling all over that glory hole," he cringed giggling about it as he looked through the hole, being careful not to touch it with his face as it revealed the next stall. He turned away from the hole and noticed on the inside of the stall door displayed a dirty poster of a naked female skunk with her legs spread wide and staining the poster were crusty mystery stains. "Man, now I know why most women call men pigs," he said, making a disgusted face at the crusty yellowing poster, "but she does have a nice pose, I'll give her that." He eyeballed the form of the skunk girl and nodded, "She is beautiful and voluptuous, but too bad I like guys." Shrugging and chuckling, he left that stall and wandered into the next stall on his little adventure in the restroom.
In the next stall, the receiving end of the glory hole was in there. This time, however, above this end it read "RECIEVING END" in black with a bold black arrow pointing to the hole and another quote beside the hole on the right side which read in bold green letters "PREMIUM SAUSAGE AND STRING CHEESE." A giggle croaked from his throat as he read that and remarked, "Yeah, if you like cocktail wienies." Laughter rolled off his tongue as he continued to read some more. "For a good time call 1-800-BIG-COCK," "I'll fill your pie with the good cream," "Gurls 'R' overrated," "Girls Suk," and below that one, "Boyz do 2, baby," and so many other vulgar quotes from some really homophobic people. "Well, this is kinda boring now," he said yawning and stretching up from his bent over position as he exited the stall with his tail swinging lazily behind. "I just hope there's something different in the next stall." He didn't realize how right he was.
He stood before the stall door and pushed it open. The stall door creaked more eerily, scarier even, than the others did before. An old Victorian trunk lay on its side with the lid wide open and resting on the tiled floor. A rusted padlock sat about a foot away from the old trunk broken open; as if it was forced open. Red and brown dried fluids caked the once soft linen interior of the old case. A peculiar smell wafted from the box, a smell the lion boy never smelled before. His tail curled suddenly as instincts took over his body, telling him something was seriously wrong here. Backing away from the case, he felt a sudden chill run through him as he turned and high tailed it to tell his friends about his disturbing find.
* * *