The Horrible Night
Story by Muskwalker on SoFurry
Imported from SF2 with no description provided.
Every day, Darkwater slept in my bed; I took the opportunity to stay with Pollux at his place next door.
Every evening, we came in to take care of the otter and found him in worse shape.
“Maybe I don't want to remember my mates anymore," he said, when I'd cancelled the memory block that kept growing back. “I can't do anything about Rockwell, the police aren't doing anything. Maybe you guys could just…just let me go back to those homeless nights, happier not knowing why I can't go back, how he has them under his control."
“No," Pollux said.
“…I know. 'That which can be destroyed by the truth should be.' But a guy can dream."
“No, you can't," Pollux repeated. It's worse than that. We all know now and you'd be leaving us to face what's going on in your house without you."
The otter sighed. “Fuck."
Tonight, we took him out to dinner at the buffet across the street. He stayed close, leaning in against me; my calming influence could be addictive, I knew, but the cure only has to be less bad than the disease.
He hadn't been eating much, and I didn't blame him. I was just about to try and nudge him towards keeping himself fed when I saw him freeze in place, staring at the entrance.
A very fat skunk in gray sweatpants had just come in. Shirtless, black-furred with stripes in white and amber, and a big snout like a hog's. A fringe of plastic stuck out of his waistband—he was diapered, rather ostentatiously. An even larger red kangaroo entered behind him, a little more conservatively dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt.
The skunk's eyes lit up as he caught sight of us, and there was a corresponding flicker of hope in the otter's eyes until “Hey, Pollux!" was shouted across the room.
My icebear, who'd been too caught up in eating to notice their entrance, turned and waved at them.
They approached. Darkwater faced them like an impending tidal wave.
“It's been a while," the skunk said, rubbing Pollux' arm. “And you're…Pollux' neighbor, aren't you? You helped us…that Halloween…and said you'd take care of him."
I didn't recognize him, but then, not many of those who'd survived the hellhouse were very recognizable at the time.
“I'm his fiancé now."
“That's great! I'm Musky. This is Mattock." I shook the paws they offered. “And you, you're cute, who're you?"
The otter quailed. “Darkwater…"
“I'm sorry?"
“Darkwater," the otter said, louder and more clearly.
“Sorry, I'm just not hearing it."
Rockwell had put his curses everywhere. The otter winced, but only slightly. “I'm…nobody."
The skunk laughed. “'Then there's a pair of us—don't tell. They'd banish us, you know.'" He reached out his paw as he quoted, and the otter tentatively reached out for it.
I watched as the otter's paw reacted to the presence of the skunk's—melting away to a slime that dripped on my lap before they could touch.
Musky looked confused.
Darkwater looked shattered.
The skunk shrugged, and he left with his roo to fill their plates as the otter buried his face in my side.
When they came back with their food, I asked them to find another table so we could focus on our guest. They seemed somewhat surprised to see him sitting by me—neither of them made any indication they remembered encountering the otter just a few minutes before.
“You didn't help them," the otter said as we left the buffet.
“Of course not," I said. “And you know why, your need to 'destroy things by the truth' notwithstanding."
He thought about it, and sighed. “Because we'd either have to send them back to Rockwell, or Rockwell would come looking for them? And the one would be cruel, and the other…we're not ready for."
I nodded, staying with him as we went back to my bedroom where he'd been staying. Someone going through this level of misery…you just don't leave them alone.
He sat on the bed, and I took a seat on the floor in front of him.
“He won't let Musky touch me. He won't even let him hear my name. But Mattock is still there, so it isn't just that Rockwell wants Musky. He specifically doesn't want me. Why?"
I put my hands on his thighs. “Didn't you reject him first?"
The otter growled. “Yeah. Because of what he tried to do to Musky. Rockwell doesn't want people, he wants puppets he can exercise his control over. And he tried to erase Musky's mind."
“Oh?"
“It terrified him. And Musky doesn't get scared. He was always into whatever crazy stuff Rockwell wanted."
“Does the rat like when people fear him—when they struggle?"
Darkwater shrugged and ran a paw through my headfur. “About as much as anyone else who's got power, I guess. But I always thought he liked us because we enjoyed playing along."
“Sounds like a problem I've heard before. How can you tell if someone's obeying you, when the things you ask are all things they want as well? You put in a new kind of demand, tailored for pure obedience at the expense of self-interest."
“To try and falsify the hypothesis."
“And when he tested Musky…Musky went back to him. You didn't. You started fighting back, and he decided you weren't worth the effort."
The otter grumbled.
“Were you normally stronger against his suggestions?"
“I don't know… I didn't usually try." A memory nagged. “Someone else tried to control my mind, once. A vampire. But when I changed to my slime form it wasn't as strong."
“So you have a little defense. Not too much—he still beat you—but enough to take fun out of his games. All because a brain's easier to keep control of than a blob of slime."
His expression got more thoughtful.
“No vigilantism," I said.
“No promises."
I tried to change the subject but the conversation seemed to have failed. I still stayed with him, rubbing my hands over his thighs and sides, doing my best to make sure his emotional subconscious knew he wasn't alone.
He reached down and rubbed a paw behind my ear. “Thank you for taking care of me," he said. “I wish…"
He stroked my head as he held me between his legs, and I caught a scent of his musk growing. “What do you wish, otterling?"
Darkwater didn't answer, but he did blush.
“Someone to minister to you?"
“I've already imposed on the two of you far too much…"
I raised my hands to undo his pants, exposing a pair of white briefs bulging out with a needy shaft, its head peeking out over the waistband. It was on the average side, but that didn't matter; it was more than what I generally had to work with.
“I—is that right for you?" The otter shrank back a bit, faced with my willingness. “I mean, I don't care, but don't you have, like…obligations to follow?"
My nose was an inch away from his cockhead, but sometimes it's important to listen. “Not in the way you're thinking," I said, after a moment. “Though it may indeed be a bit uncouth to take liberties, as your host."
The otter pulled up his briefs and was about to zip back up, when I stopped him.
“But I could take this out of the equation," I said. “We could share a bit of tenderness without this being in the way."
“What do you mean?"
“Trust me to make a temporary change?"
He nodded, and I moved my hand to cover his bulge. I felt him throbbing, felt his need, felt the warmth of him. And with a slight push and a small effort of will, I made it disappear.
Darkwater yelped in surprise. His paw rubbed the front of his briefs experimentally, then slipped behind the fabric with some urgency. “You—"
“Only for a couple of hours," I said. “It should be enough." I slid him out of his pants and pulled down his briefs, revealing an uninterrupted stretch of fur, like the crotch of a teddy bear.
The otter couldn't keep his paws away.
I got out of my own clothes as he explored himself. Unlike his, my own nullification was permanent—a side effect of my ability. I didn't miss it; there were more important things to take care of.
Like this otter in front of me.
I climbed up on the bed and pressed my face between his legs. He seemed confused initially until I gave the newly emptied area a long, slow lick.
He shivered and grabbed my head, holding me against him. I sucked and nibbled at the sweet spot till he was writhing, clinging to me desperately with his face buried in my belly.
And then I doubled down.
I took hold of him, stroking hands and feet over his back and rump, nuzzling into his blank crotch as I ground my own against him.
There isn't an orgasm at a time like this, not of any familiar kind—no release, no mere spasms of the body. But the chemistry of physical love without penetration overwhelms, and the familiar habits die hard; the otter's body started to give way to my touch as he gave in, and I stroked what solid parts of him I could find through the slime till there was nothing left and I was soaked in him.
The next morning, I decided I needed to see the rat myself. What kind of person would so thoroughly invade another's family and write someone out of it? Was I right about why Rockwell wanted Musky and Mattock and yet hated Darkwater so much? Were they being mistreated as well, and only sent out into the world with cheerful façades?
Their house seemed normal enough—a couple of stories high, painted a medium brown bland enough to be HOA-acceptable—but as I approached I could already feel the rat's defenses.
There was a powerful compulsion around the whole place: anyone who came by would feel a strong need to be anywhere else at all. It was a simple enough trick to ignore.
My confidence began to shake when I got to the little paved footpath that led to the front door. The moment my foot made contact, I started to hear insects approaching—quick, buzzy creatures came first and filled the air, and crawlers slowly began to flood the path, forming a dark and glittering barrier. They sounded angry, but held their distance and didn't swarm me—though I was fairly sure the message was 'If you take one step closer…'
Mind control, I thought. And even though I can stay in control of my own mind, there are more minds out there than mine…
I pushed my foot down on whatever invisible spot I'd just triggered, and tried to neutralize it. There was a lot of power that had been laid down though, giving me time to hope it was something he'd been building up over time, and not something he could do on a whim.
Eventually I got it. The bugs lost their interest and dispersed, but they'd served their purpose—I was now afraid of Rockwell.
The door was answered by a liar.
There are people in this world who take no care of their bodies. Sometimes out of weakness, sometimes out of ignorance, sometimes out of a simple neglect that counts everything else more important.
And sometimes they do it because no one will see.
The rat before me, I'd been told, was a successful lawyer. But he looked…like he could never fit the part. His fur was was filthy and fading to a yellowed gray in many places. He stank—not like a 'sorry I didn't get to shower today' stink, but a stink that reminded me of the time I'd visited a poor nursing home and found an elderly bedbound badger who'd been left unattended for days, lying helpless in their own waste… The rat was flabby, too, and I shuddered to think of the condition of his folds.
“You said you were a wolf," he slurred, through yellowing irregular teeth that still managed to look menacing.
It took him a moment to realize that I wasn't the person he'd been expecting.
It didn't take him much longer to realize that I was seeing his real self, not the glamour he projected into others' minds. I could sense it around him, the aura of a figure that was more powerful, more attractive, more confident…but my mind refused to play along.
I put aside the reason I came and remembered my job. He'd been a monster, certainly. Like many monsters, he seemed broken. Like all monsters, he deserved better.
“I'm Freetown Tantivy," I said. “And…if you're going through hell, I'd like to help you out."
“Fuck off, preacher," the rat said, and slammed the door.
I waited a few minutes, in case Rockwell returned or his mates decided to answer the door, but nobody came.