The Practice of Law
#5 of Reflections on a Rat
I knew Rockwell worked in a law firm the next town over. I should have known I'd be seriously outclassed if I tried to confront him, but I also knew that my skunk was being given more than he could handle from the rat's unhealthy interest in him, so of course I had to do it.
I was still fortunate enough to not have to work ordinary office hours, so on the next day Musky was at work I drove off to the firm of Rockwell, Somebody Else, and Associates.
It was an imposing office--the decorators had spared no expense, and all the brass gleamed like it was new-but the front desk was empty when I entered. I waited a bit to see if anyone would show up to invite me further in, but after a few minutes I decided I'd better make my move before I lost my nerve.
I passed the front desk and went down the hallway, past several doors without labels or with unfamiliar names until I found the one in the corner whose placard read JULIAN ROCKWELL.
I knocked.
Julian Rockwell did not appear.
The door was answered by his assistant, a large gold-furred bear. "Mister Rockwell does not have any appointments today," Tzourick said.
"It's important," I said. "I need to have a word with him about how he's treating my skunk."
He looked down at me with an expression that somehow managed to be half sympathetic and half sneering at the same time. "Mister Darkwater, Mister Rockwell specifically does not have any appointments with you today."
I scowled up at him. If it needed to be a fight, I was ready to go at it. "And can Mister Rockwell not give me his refusals in person? I wouldn't have thought he'd be afraid to talk to a four-foot otter."
Tzourick sighed, reached out his hand, and touched my nose.
I woke up naked in Tijuana two days later, with a tattoo on my chest reading "Don't mess with the rat".
It went away when I tried a quick shapeshift, but it was a damn hefty kick in the wallet.
So my first attempt confirmed that I definitely ought to level up before I tried again. I put some effort into analyzing the problem as I went through California on my long drive home.
How do I beat Rockwell?
No, that wasn't right. Start with the original problem, and go from there.
How do I stop Rockwell from messing with Musky?
A twinge of memory reminded me that wasn't the problem either. Some of the rat's games had been enjoyable, damn him. So, what actually happened?
Musky freaked out after one of Rockwell's games.
That... certainly did feel like a problem.
And it only got bigger and bigger in my head as I tried to wrap my head around what would cause that.
I'd seen Musky eat crap from a fur's ass and beg for more.
The day Rockwell ate his dick he came home and rode mine till his ass couldn't hold any more otterjuice.
Heck, I'd stuffed him up a bear's ass before and roasted them alive for Thanksgiving dinner with nary a complaint from him.
How would a game of mind control be the thing to cross the line?
I pulled over at a rest stop past the state line and sat in my car, trying to think it out. Look at the problem, and keep asking 'why' till you understand.
Rockwell was trying to make him a mindless slave.
Why?
It didn't seem obvious. Well, yes, obviously Rockwell enjoyed mind control and enslaving people, that was half the fun of it. But why Musky, and why try to snuff out his mind altogether?
Rockwell wants to take it further.
Why?
Oh. Most people didn't really enjoy Rockwell's extremer moments--he'd said something along that line before, about how compliant Musky was--so if anyone would have been into the rat's darkest side, it would have been my skunk. And even extensive mental damage like that would have been reversible, thanks to save points, so that still didn't explain Musky's reaction.
Would Rockwell be messing even with that?
A knock at the window interrupted my train of thought. A thick policebadger was giving me a displeased look as I rolled the window down.
"Something wrong, officer?"
"Public solicitation of sex is illegal in this county, young man." His voice was as gruff as he was; his namebadge said 'McKendrick'.
"I--What?" Oh right. Naked otter sitting in a car at a rest stop. "Totally not what it looks like, sir. I was, uh, brainwashed and left naked in Mexico with a stupid tattoo on my chest and..."
Even though it was true, I still couldn't make it sound plausible somehow.
The badger frowned at me. "I don't see any tattoo."
"I got rid of it." I turned brown chestfur into green slime in demonstration of the point, and stuck my paw into my liquefied chest. "I think it was just a warning. In hindsight, I realize it could have been a lot worse."
"You can stop now. Come on." He motioned me out of the car. "True story or not, I can't have you going around like that."
Sitting in the back of the cop car, I tried to keep my boner covered. A million pornos where the policeman takes advantage of a situation like this were running through my mind, even though reality told me it was probably way more likely that I'd get in more trouble if he thought I was coming on to him.
I could only hope he didn't have a strong sense of smell. I felt like I was sitting in a cloud of mustelid musk.
He looked back at me in the rear-view window, and I couldn't help but blush.
Outside of the occasional burst over the radio and the hum of the car's engine, it was quiet.
I hate quiet.
"Hey boss," I said. "How far is it to the, uh, station?"
"'Bout twenty minutes. Need something?" The badger's glance in the rear-view mirror was kindly but uninterested; it reminded me of Southern hospitality. He was graying a little around the edges, a bit of crow's feet around eyes that had seen a lot but were still bright--
"Asked you a question, son."
Sorry, dad, I didn't say. "Sorry, sir. Though, it might be a little warm back here."
To be honest it was already surprisingly chilly but I figured I needed to do something to ventilate the funk of otter pheromones.
"Still got your winter coat in, eh? Fair enough." He turned up the AC and the blast of cold air soon had me relatively decent again.
A worrying thought occurred to me. "Am I going to be in a lot of trouble, officer? I'm, ah, not exactly on speaking terms with my lawyer at the moment."
Officer McKendrick gave me another look. "You're going to be more trouble than you're worth, aren't you." He pulled over to the side of the road by a highway exit and turned to look at me proper. "How about this. I'll give you a choice."
"Umm..." Is this the part where he comes on to me?
"I'm not propositioning you, son. At least... not for my own sake. I'm on the job, after all. But I might leave you someplace my husband might find you. What happens then is up to you, but, ah, you'll probably find yourself at your last save point afterwards."
Oh. A quick trip home, then? "The other option?"
"I turn you in and there will be charges."
I was poised to say something along the lines of And that's how the law is practiced around here, is it? before my better judgment kicked in.
"So... we either keep going, or pretend we never met? Seems... fair."
"Decide now. This is where you'd get off."
"I'll take my chances with your man," I said. "Er... what does he...?"
The badger didn't take up the question, but got out of the car and let me out. "Walk towards town that way. When you get to the boundary markers he'll find you. Don't struggle... or do, if you like, but you'll come out the same in the end."
I wasn't too incredibly worried--I've died a time or two before, and I could probably still afford it. Still, well--there was a worryingly large set of possibilities for whatever I'd just agreed to.
I followed the road down to town the way he'd shown me, passing a truck stop and a few fast food joints before I saw LA COLA CDP POP 500 on a signpost.
I should have asked who I was looking for, I thought. This end of town was inhabited chiefly by storage facilities, so I wasn't exactly sure where to start.
"Cross the border," I heard, from a voice that I somehow wasn't able to locate. "Cross the border, and let me in." It wasn't just that I couldn't see who was speaking; I couldn't even tell what direction it was coming from.
"Cross the border?" I said. I stepped past the signpost, and turned to look back, but I couldn't see anyone. "Like this? And what do you mean 'let you in'?"
"Invite me."
Warning bells went off in my head. "Are you..." I didn't finish the question. Needing an invitation to cross into an arbitrarily-defined place? Of course it was a vampire. "You've been following me. Come out so I can see you."
There was silence for a moment, and then the voice resumed clearly from behind me. "Mmm... close enough."
I changed form on reflex and spun around, spattering slime everywhere, but there was still no one in sight. I felt my blood pumping, never mind that I didn't really have blood when I was in slimeotter shape.
I was bubbling.
Forget save points; vampires are dangerous. They have no empathy, they'll fuck with your mind and keep you as their toy, and--
--sound like anyone you know?
"I don't feel like playing anymore," I said. "I want to go home and be sick."
"Not till I get my turn with you."
"I don't--"
"Come here."
My legs moved against my will, steering me with irregular sloshing steps to the shadow of the nearest building--to where the wolf was waiting. He was an average height--which is to say, taller than me--in a dark suit with his face shaded by a broad-brimmed hat.
He looked like he'd been staying well fed.
"Please don't destroy me."
"What would the fun in that be?"
With a wrenching sensation in my gut I felt my body try to turn solid, but somehow I was able to resist.
"You've got a slippery mind, otter of slime," the wolf said. "I do like a challenge. But stay like that and it'll be too easy to drink you right up..."
I snapped back to solid form immediately.
That was a mistake. I felt the wolf's will tramping through my mind, taking full control of my body and bringing me to my knees at his feet. I wasn't strong enough to fight him; I'd grown too used to giving in to Rockwell's subtler control to have any defense against the brute force of the wolf's hold on me.
The smell of him filled my nose as he stepped forward, pressing my muzzle against his crotch.
"Otter of slime," he said, as he made me undo his belt with my teeth and pull his pants down. "I bet you make a good fuck toy... I bet I could sink my cock in anywhere..."
It wasn't a thick cock, but it was impressive for its length. He pressed its head against the side of my muzzle and pushed it into my body, slime dripping down my face as he forced my flesh and bone to shapeshift around him.
"Mmm... that's what I'm talking about." He pulled out and my face flowed back to normal, filling in the opening he'd made. "I was just going to fuck your muzzle, but this is much better."
He grabbed my head with both hands and plunged his cock between my eyes.
I yelped out in startlement--it didn't actually hurt, but the very thought of his dick in there stirring my brain around was disconcerting.
No, sorry. I meant arousing, didn't I? Of course I did. That was my thought and certainly not anyone else's.
Before I could do anything about my own rapidly-stiffening cock, his will clamped down and immobilized me. He grabbed me by the ears and started fucking my face in earnest, his long shaft sinking deep into my head.
Fuck, I loved being used like this. The big sexy wolf--of course he was sexy, didn't I always think so?--making me his toy--his plaything--his fleshlight--
The pounding went on and somehow I could tell from the pressure on the inside of my head that his dick was bottoming out, sliding along the back end of my skull. All other thoughts drained from my mind; all that was left was the wolf and his cock.
I felt his climax approaching before it happened--less through his heavy panting and the force of his thrusts than through the weakening of his hold on my mind.
As his cock began to pulse, I wrenched control of myself back and shifted back to slime form before he could recover.
The vampire growled as I ruined his orgasm, and he gave my body a vicious kick in retaliation.
Never kick a blob. You'll only make it angry.
My body gripped his leg as he made contact with it, and I started sucking him in. This game I was well practiced in. I could swallow him into my gut until he passed out, and make my escape.
As I started to engulf him though, he started fighting back. Though his grip on my mind was much weaker, this was a physical contest, and if vampires are known for anything...
He sank fangs deep into the membrane that kept me together and started sucking me into him. I growled and engulfed him fully, surrounding him with my slime, and solidified my torso around him.
Sharp pain from within struck me as the wolf's fangs pierced my stomach.
Fuck, I thought.
I tried to change again, at least to escape the pain, but he'd taken advantage of my distraction to grab hold of my will again and I couldn't fight it anymore.
At least I made him work for it.
I didn't have any further thoughts after that.
I woke up alone on a hard cot in an unfamiliar, brightly-lit room.
I sat up, feeling a little groggy, and caught my reflection in a mirror on the wall.
There was a tattoo on my chest reading "Don't mess with the rat".
Fuck, I thought.