Funnel Cloud
"I, uh ... I used to stand outside, sometimes, at night," the vole whispered. "Or early morning, really. Maybe five in the morning. I would wake up. Have to go to the bathroom ... and, after, I would slip outside." A pause. "In my bare foot-paws and ... no shirt. The air was so warm, and ... the lightning bugs would still be blinking. There would be the moon. At a crescent, two-thirds up the way up the Eastern horizon. And, below it ... in the far distance, clouds. And the heat lightning rippling through them." A pause. A fidget. "And I ... I would marvel at what God had done. The beauty He had made." Ross closed his eyes. Let out a breath. Opened his eyes. "And, now, I look at you, and ... I marvel all over again."
Aria's eyes darted a bit.
The vole went quiet, swallowing.
And the snow rabbit looked back to him. "Thank you," she mouthed silently.
And Ross, inhaling, opened his muzzle to say something further ...
... when Herkimer returned. Twitching violently. Tail slithering about like a live wire. "It's, uh ... coming."
"The storm?" Aria asked.
"The thrusters are shot," said Bell-Bell, shaking her head quietly. Hooves scuffing on the rocky floor of the cave. "Whatever electrical, ionic ... WHATEVER energy that front is sending our way, it's making the engines wonky."
"Wonky?" asked Ross, blinking.
"So, we can't leave?" Aria asked.
"No," the doe whispered.
"Wonky?"
"Will these caves protect us from tornadoes?" Herkimer asked. "I mean, this cave ... it's pretty shallow. The entrance is only, like, twenty feet away." He turned to look at the outside. Which was turning greyer. Turning darker. Inching toward devilish black. "What if debris comes flying in here ... it'll be like shooting fish in a bowl."
"I believe the correct term is 'fish in a barrel' ... "
"Wonky?" asked Ross (for the third time). Until giving up.
"Look, furs, we ... we should really hunker down," Bell-Bell said. Voice a bit quiet. A bit hushed. MORE than a bit afraid.
"What about contacting ... "
"I tried that," the deer said, answering before the question could be finished. "Couldn't get a signal through. We'll just have to wait it out."
"How long 'til the front passes over?"
"Hour. Hour and a half."
There were whisker-twitches and nose-sniffs from the two mice. The deer was absently scuffing her hooves. Of the four, the snow rabbit was the most ... calm. That was to be expected. It wasn't that she didn't FEEL any fear. She felt it. She'd just been conditioned, by generations of snow and ice ... to CONTROL it. To suppress it.
The wind began to pick up. Outside the cave, the clouds moving in. Moving by. They could see a good sliver of the sky from here ... and, in here, it was even darker.
"Alright," Aria whispered, her white, slender ears waggling like antennae. "Toward the back. Snug against the back wall. In the corner there." A pause. "If things get bad, we'll need to cover our heads."
"I have a tool kit ... but, uh ... "
The snow rabbit nudged the doe back. Back, back ... to the back of the cave. Where Herkimer and Ross were already clustered. Aria, while the three of them sat and wriggled as snugly into the corner as they could get ...
"D-darling ... "
"I'm taking a look," Aria told Ross.
"Come back," was the vole's weak, scared plea.
The snow rabbit paused. Framed against the swirling, menacing clouds beyond the entrance. She gave the best eye-smile she could. "I'm just taking a look," she repeated softly.
"Just ... just don't stay out there long enough to be ... to be taking pictures," the vole stammered.
"I didn't bring a camera."
"Good," he breathed, breathing again. Harder. Shivering. Swallowing. Herkimer, eyes squeezed shut, leaning his head on the vole's shoulder. Their dishy, mousey ears, like satellite dishes ... brushing and bending together. Flimsy pink ears. Hearing everything. Every sound. Every heartbeat in this small, shallow cave.
While the two mice snuggled and drew comfort from one another, the snow rabbit padded outside the entrance. All the way to where the grass began to grow. Blue-green grass. Bluegrass. And the air, which had been so muggy, seemingly, upon arrival ... was now cooler. Colder. And, above, the cloud masses were swirling. As if breeding vortex after vortex. The rabbit had never been witness to a funnel cloud. Or a storm like this of ANY sort. She was from the ice. Storms back home were BLIZZARDS. Were snow storms.
This was not a snow storm.
The air smelled of earth. Of dirt. Of water. Of green plants. It smelled of nature being stirred and stirred in a weathered pot. And ...
... FLASH!
A forking, branching bolt of neon-green lighting. Luminous. Searing and bright, and ... happening in a mere fraction of a second. Sky to ground. Or was it ... ground to sky. How did lightning work?
Regardless, it made the snow rabbit's fur stand up straight. Made her extremities tingle. Made her bobtail twitch. And her ears waggled, even MORE antennae-like than before. It was almost as if she could FEEL the storm's energy.
Was it possible to FEED off adrenaline? Rather than be so frightened by it?
"Aria!"
The snow rabbit blinked, and looked back into the cave. Her mate motioning at her, and the other two ... equally concerned. And Aria, pausing, looked back in front of her. At the open plains. The fields. In the distance, a mountain range. And the storm front that was coming toward their current, rocky position in these sloping hills.
The clouds, dark and brooding, swirling more and more.
And the snow rabbit padded back into the cave. Ducking a bit, and ... going to the back corner. Sitting between Bell-Bell and Ross. Herkimer on Ross's other side.
"What did you see?" Herkimer whispered.
"Nature's fury," was the snow rabbit's response.
Bell-Bell, hoof-like hands shaking, operating her scanner, whispered, "It's ... it's barely working, but ... I think this says," she said, squinting, "it'll be on top of us soon. Another ten minutes. I don't know."
"What are we gonna do?" Ross squeaked. Twitching. Panicking. He'd lived through tornadoes before. He didn't know if any of the other furs had ...
Aria, her paw under his shirt, rubbing the dirt-colored fur of his chest, whispered, "We pray. And we wait."
For now, that was all they COULD do. That and ... nervously chatter.
The sickbay doors swished open.
Welly looked up. Blinking. "Advent."
"I need a program," she said brusquely.
"What?" The skunk stood up. Had been tapping into the bridge systems ... apparently, Audrey had lost contact with the away team. Some kind of storm. The skunk's mate, Bell-Bell, was on that mission ... and the skunk wasn't much of a worrier. But ... all the same, he wanted to keep a close eye on the situation. It made him feel less helpless.
"A yiffy program. You have a collection? I need some ... "
" ... programs," Welly whispered, nodding. Squinting. "Why?"
"To fuck," she said, with a bite.
"Oh," the skunk whispered, swallowing. "Makes sense," he said quietly, and he went to his desk in his open office. "Um ... heh ... what are you looking for, exactly? I mean ... " He trailed. Paused. "It's just not like a predator to even NEED holographic tail. I thought predators disapproved of fake yiff? You prefer REAL blood. If it doesn't have real blood to be spilled ... it's not worth your time and effort? Am I ... "
"Correct. Just give me some programs."
"Heh ... I guess I'm Solstice's unofficial yiffy librarian."
"I guess so," the jaguar said, expression blank.
The skunk fished through his collection. "Um ... " And he paused again. His luxurious, silky tail, black and white-striped ... filtering softly through the air behind him. His trim form standing to full height. "Really ... why do you NEED them?" he whispered. "Predators believe in open, casual yiff. There are, like, seven other predators aboard."
"They won't ... touch me," the jaguar whispered.
The skunk blinked. Not understanding.
"I am a disgrace." The jaguar stood still. Still wearing a blank expression.
"What? Why ... because ... "
"Because I let my prey ESCAPE," she hissed. "Had Herkimer left me with PERMISSION ... MY permission," she growled, "then I would've retained my honor. But he escaped me. Left without any regard to my authority over him. As a result, the other predators on this ... bloody," she whispered, "ship ... have turned their tails on me. I am being punished."
"For how long?" Welly asked, blinking.
"For as long as they wish it. As long as they hold the grudge."
"A long time, then," Welly realized, whispering. "Oh."
"Oh," the feline mocked. "The programs?" She held out a paw.
The doctor frowned, and then ... fished through his programs again. "You have to give these back when you're done with them. You know that, right? These are MINE. I've spent years collecting all these ... "
"Understood."
"What are you looking for?"
"Males," she said obviously.
"Well, I KNOW, but ... predators, prey ... "
"Prey," she whispered dangerously. "I have ... issues," she promised, "to work out with ... prey," she whispered.
"I see," the skunk whispered back, taking a breath. Holding it. Boy, that cat could load up on the intimidation factor ... when she so wished. He literally felt like she'd mentally painted a bull's-eye on his striped, silky back. "Well, there's always the Arctic Love Pet series. The Tree Party stuff ... those might be too tame for you. Mind, I don't DO ... sadistic stuff. You know ... so ... you'll have to improvise."
The jaguar, golden-furred and black-spotted, shifted on her foot-paws. Waiting. Her tail snaking like a lazy day.
"Mousetrap. Heh ... uh ... Mousetrap Two: Unfinished 'Business' ... uh ... these are great," the skunk gushed. "Ooh, ooh ... this one: Lucky Rabbit's Foot ... if you have a foot-paw fetish ... but, uh ... "
"The Mousetrap series will do."
"Alright." Welly took the data chips from his desk. Put them in a tiny carrying case ... and gave them to the jaguar. "You know, I'm not a psychologist, but ... "
" ... you play one in real life?"
"Very funny. No, uh ... well, I can PRETEND to. Look, if you need help ... "
"I don't need help from prey," the jaguar scowled.
"You need my yiffy material. Isn't that ... 'help'?"
"I can handle the predators on this ship. As well as the prey. I can handle," she promised, "anyone. And, as a result, anything. Emotional, mental ... whatever."
"You know, though ... "
She perked, waiting.
" ... if you walk around with that scowl on your muzzle all the time, it'll freeze like that. You know that?"
She made a face.
"And if you want my honest opinion ... "
"I don't."
" ... you treated Herkimer abysmally. You BEAT him. I treated him for severe bruises and bone-fractures. You emotionally scarred that poor mouse. He's totally afraid of relationships now. I had to literally FORCE Opal onto him ... before he'd agree to mate her."
"I heard," the jaguar whispered. Her voice very, very quiet. She'd yet to talk to Opal, the Jersey cow. Had been making it a point to avoid her. AND Herkimer. She didn't want to have anything to do with either of them ... they didn't deserve her friendship.
"My question is," the skunk whispered back to her, "is how come you're even ON this ship ... if you despise prey so much."
She blinked. "You don't understand. Predators don't DESPISE prey. We NEED prey ... what we DESPISE," she said, "is your attitude. Your refusal to submit to us. How you buck nature's laws ... and declare yourselves as equals," she whispered, "when you are most certainly not. Not biologically. Not mentally. Not in ANY," she promised, "way."
"Prey built this ship. Built Solstice. Prey built Luminous, too. Prey beat the Arctic foxes in an all-out war ... I don't think we're as deficient as you believe us to be."
"Only time will tell," was her response. "All things revert to their true order ... in time." A pause. "And we can be very patient," she promised, "when we wish it." A pause. And she went for the door, and as the doors swished open, she paused again. Sighing. "Thank you," she muttered, "for the programs."
"Happy breeding," the skunk replied, nodding in acknowledgment.
The feline hesitated. And left.
And the skunk let out a deep, nervous breath.
"Zebra ... "
Ross closed his eyes. Squinted. "Armadillo."
"Ostrich."
It was Aria's turn. "Holstein."
"That's not a species! That's a breed," Herkimer exclaimed.
"Did we specify the game as the furry SPECIES game? I believe the rules were ... name a TYPE of fur. And the next player must name ANOTHER type ... that begins with the last letter of the previous word. Ostrich ends with 'h,' and Holstein starts with 'h' ... "
"Aria ... "
"Bell-Bell," Aria replied, matching the deer's tone and look.
"It's gotta be a SPECIES ... right?"
"Well, if we're playing it as SPECIES only," Ross interrupted, coming to the defense of his mate, "then we can't use TYPES of cats, right? Jaguars, cheetahs, snow leopards ... cause those are BREEDS of cats, right?"
"That make the game harder," Herkimer said, siding with Ross.
Bell-Bell sighed, spreading her hoof-like hands. "Whatever. Alright," she agreed, nodding. "Species AND breeds ... but they HAVE to be furs. No reptiles and ocean things ... no birds, either."
"Agreed," said the snow rabbit, looking to Herkimer. It was his turn.
The grey-furred mouse let out a deep sigh. Trying to ignore the rapid winds outside. Trying to ignore the flashed of light. The rolls of thunder. The cries of nature. Trying, so hard to ignore it. Trying to immerse himself in this silly, little word game. It was hard. But ... he tried. "Um ... um," he stammered. "N?"
FLASH!
The light from the bolt ... illuminated the inside of the cave.
"Oh. My ... gosh ... I think I saw our bones," exclaimed Ross.
"X-ray lightning?" Bell-Bell asked, voice getting agitated.
"You did not see bones," Aria assured. "I believe your mousey anxiety is running away with itself. Or, more precisely, with you."
Ross twitched.
Another bolt of lightning. Flash ... FLASH!
BOOM!
Herkimer jumped, starting to move, but ... Bell-Bell clamped down on him. She had moved to his other side. The deer and snow rabbit had sandwiched the two mice between them ... so as to be able to hold them in place. Should they, in a panic, be taken by the instinctual need to scurry.
Ross's heart pounded. Aria's snow-white paws were on his arms. Stroking him. She whispered something into his ear.
Bell-Bell, meanwhile, held to Herkimer. Telling him, "N ... your turn. An N-fur."
"Uh ... I can't think of one."
"There IS a time limit," Aria reminded.
"I know!" Herkimer squeaked. Agitated. Whiskers twitching. He SWORE he could feel the electricity in his whiskers. The energy in the air. It was ... hyping him up. Making him even more scared. "I know," he said again, swallowing. "Uh ... " He twitched, sniffing. "I don't know! I don't know ... I give up!" he chittered.
"It's only a game, Herkimer. Calm down," said Bell-Bell, wrapping him in a hug.
"It's gonna get us!" he wailed. "The funnel cloud ... it's gonna come down and ... suck us out of here. Like ... it'll turn the cave into a vacuum. A wind tunnel! We'll get sucked into the sky!" The mouse started to sob.
Which triggered Ross into crying, too.
Bell-Bell cast a panicked "help!" look at Aria ...
... who nodded wordlessly. Hugging Ross (as Bell-Bell was hugging Herkimer), and saying, in a calm, crisp voice, "We've asked God to help us. We said our prayer ... He heard. He won't let us die in this storm," she assured, caressing Ross's fur. "And Solstice is in orbit ... as soon as this is over, we'll go back to her. We'll go home."
Herkimer sniffled, rubbing his eyes.
"It will be okay," Aria assured. And, because of her ... cool, controlled demeanor, and her icy grace ... when because she was a Sub-Commander, both the first officer AND the tactical officer of the ship ... when SHE said it would be okay ...
... the mice believed her. And they calmed. A bit.
"Herkimer, you may skip the letter 'N' ... we'll start over. We'll start with Mouse."
Herkimer sniffled, shivering in Bell-Bell's arms. And the grey-furred mouse closed his eyes. His dishy ears picking up the howling, yipping winds. "It ... it sounds like coyotes. The storm ... it sounds like coyotes," he sniffled. Starting to shake again.
"Lieutenant," Aria whispered quietly. Calmly. "Your letter is 'E' ... "
A deep, deep breath. "No birds? We were using birds before? Bell-Bell used Ostrich."
"You may use birds," Aria relented.
A sniff. "Emu."
Which made it Ross's turn. The vole swallowed, eyes darting to the outside of the cave. Oh, those clouds were moving fast, and oh ... branches and WHOLE trees were flying through the air, and oh, the chill, and ...
... two hundred and sixty miles per hour of focused, funneled fury. A cloud that just dipped from the sky, like a monster. And tore in a zigzag path. Toward you. No warning. Minutes, maybe of warning, and ... that's what made tornadoes so scary.
So powerful. So unpredictable.
So ...
"U ... U," Aria whispered.
"I can't think of any! I can't think!" Ross wailed, swallowing. His mind ... was in a frenzy. He couldn't control it. The fear. The worry. The speculation. The anxiety. Everything. So, so hard to concentrate or think. So hard to ...
" ... focus," the snow rabbit willed him. "Focus. A furry species that begins with 'U' ... "
"There is none! I don't know ... I don't know ... "
"This game isn't going so well," Bell-Bell realized.
"Do you have an alternative?" Aria asked. "We've already prayed ... we've ... we need to keep their minds," she said, "AND ours ... off of that storm." It WAS possible, actually, for certain prey ... mice, for instance ... to give themselves heart attacks if their fear level got SO ramped up that their pulse ran out of control.
It was VITAL that Aria and Bell-Bell keep the two males within a realm of acceptable panic.
"Let's play," Bell-Bell suggested, stammering, trying to think, " ... uh ... the favorites game!"
"F-favorites ... game?" Herkimer sniffled. Heart hammering.
"Yeah, you, like ... well, you think of something. Colors. Foods. Places. Toys ... uh ... any particular topic, and ... everyone has to say what their favorite thing is and why."
"I don't understand," sniffled Ross.
The doe sighed. "Look, like ... colors. That's our first topic. Colors. My favorite color ... is purple. I like how it's ... calm, soothing. Reminds me of grapes. Now ... alright, Aria, you go."
"My favorite color is white."
Bell-Bell bit her lip, smiling. "Do I need to ask why?"
Aria eye-smiled.
FLASH!
... BOOM!
The cave illuminated ... and even seemed to vibrate from the light and sound.
Squeaks and chitters from the other two. And Bell-Bell, herself, tensed. Breathing harder. The storm was picking up.
"B-back home," Ross stammered, "it would ... when it would get like this, all the power would go out. The hale would come first. And then the wind, and ... we wouldn't know, you know, where it was coming from. Or when. We'd have to use the radio, but it would be all static ... and branches were hitting the windows. The rain hurt against you ... and the basement was all mud and cobwebs, but you had to go and cower down there ... you were so, so helpless. It was ... it humbled you. You lost all arrogance and sense of self-importance," he whispered, "when it stormed like that. You remembered how mortal you were." A sniff. "I ... I would close my eyes and think of heaven."
The others were quiet. Listening to him.
FLASH!
Aria squeezed Ross's paw. The meadow mouse ... twitching quietly. Eyes watering. Shivering.
Herkimer swallowed. "I ... I ... my favorite color," he said, continuing the game. He needed to. The fear was so great. "My favorite color is ... "
"They ... uh, should, uh ... be fine. We'll be able to contact them ... when the storm passes ... and they can, uh, come back. Aria was a member of the snow rabbit militia. She's trained to, uh ... handle ... disasters. Scans showed," Advance managed, "caves near the pod. They probably took shelter ... in them. I ... I'm trying not to worry. I ... I ... " A breath, and he threw his head back. "Uhhh ... " Sucking air.
She slid her lips off his wet, stiff member. Just for a moment. "Am I making it easier?" Audrey asked quietly. From the carpeted floor of the Captain's ready room.
He was in his chair, with pants and briefs round his ankles.
She was on her knees on the floor. Content to let him have all the pleasure this time. And, besides, suckling him ... was pleasure for HER, too. (Plus, she'd pawed an hour ago ... she wouldn't need her next orgasm until this evening, when they were both off-duty.)
"Mm?" the squirrel prodded. The desert mouse still hadn't answered her question.
He nodded as he exhaled. Swallowed. "Yeah," he whispered.
"Mm. Good," the squirrel replied, and went back to work. If you could call it work. She smiled at the thought ... if THIS was considered work, then ... well, she'd gladly work double shifts.
The mouse's chest swelled, and he arched again ...
... as her wet, loosened lips slid over his firm, sensitive flesh. Over the stiff male organ. The essence of male. The taste of it (and him) on her tongue. And her lips bobbing, bobbing ... down to the base of the shaft. And back up to the tip. Bob, bob. And stop. Just savor it. Letting it marinate in her muzzle. Her saliva all over it, and the taste ...
... and the salty pre. The promise of more to come. Of seed.
Male's milk.
That was her ultimate goal her. To get him to relinquish his male's milk. His seed ... for, no doubt, it would pleasure them both.
It was in the best interests of both furs ... that he cum.
And the two mates knew it.
Bob, bob ... suckle.
"Uhh!" The mouse drew a breath.
The squirrel's lips stayed JUST over the tip. And suckled just on the tip, while her tongue swirled around the tip of the head. All over the back of the head, over the ridge ... and back to the slit.
The mouse squirmed, actually trying to pull OUT of her muzzle ... it was just too sensitive. Too much, too quickly.
But her paws went to his hips. She held him as steady as she could. Keeping his rump in his chair, and ...
... keeping his cock there. As her tongue swirled and played with this wonderful, tasty toy!
"Hmm ... mm," he whimper-squeaked, sagging. Eyes closed. Tail snaking erratically, and ears flushed and extra-sensitive. His whiskers drooped from the heat their bodies were giving off.
Audrey soon dispensed with the 'tongue and tip only' routine ... and began to suckle and bob again. On the whole length. Focusing on the underside of the shaft. Allowing her tongue to lick town it. And one of her paws going to his sac. Fondling the swollen orbs inside. Tug-tugging on the wheat-colored, furry sac ... so cute. Males were so cute. Oh ... tug-tug ...
... squeak! Squeak!
Tug! Suck!
Chitter!
Until her nose was flaring, her whiskers brushing his groin ... her bushy tail flagging in the air behind her, and ...
... the mouse weakly bucking at her slurping muzzle. "Huh! Huh ... uhh ... " And a final, high-pitched series of chitters. Before he came.
Before jets and spurts of warm, wet, white seed ... spilled onto her tongue. The roof of her mouth. The back of her throat.
"Hmm ... hhmm ... " The mouse was hunched over, moaning in pleasure. His paws weakly on her shoulders. "Ohh ... "
Her muzzle filled, semen dripping from her lips, she kept suckling. Until she was SURE she'd milked him good and proper. And she pulled off his still-twitching penis, and tilted her head back, shivering at the feeling of cum trickling down her throat. And she finally swallowed. Once, twice. Eyes closed. Swallowing again. And opening her muzzle to pant for air. "Oh," she went. "Ohh ... heh ... mm ... " She licked at her lips.
Advance, sweaty and spent, eyes weakly open, smiled bashfully.
"Remind me ... mm ... to start having you for dessert," the squirrel teased, "after every meal ... heh ... " A grin. And she leaned forward. Her head in his lap. His pink, shrinking cock a few inches from her sniffing nose. "Mm." She closed her eyes and rested there for a moment.
Advance, sighing happily ... rubbed her neck and shoulders. And used his paws and claws to scritch behind her ears.
Getting her to chitter ...
... and he kept scritching.
Love really was a cure-all. And yiff? All the better ...
"Is it ... is it gone?"
Ross's ears swivelled. "I don't hear it," he whispered.
Aria was the first to get up. And the first to pad to the entrance of the cave, poking her nose out into the open air ... and seeing the dark, dangerous front ... moving away. And behind it: sun. And more sun. And blue skies. And, taking a breath and nodding, the rabbit looked back to the others. "It's clear."
Herkimer smiled brightly, feeling ten times lighter. And he bounded up and scurried past her. Into the dampness of the surrounding nature.
Bell-Bell and Ross followed.
Until all four furs finally emerged from the cave.
A lot of the trees were missing branches. One tree was toppled over entirely. The shuttle-pod, in the midst of a tiny clearing, had scratches on it. A few dents. But, otherwise, was entirely fine.
Herkimer, muzzle raised to the sun, mouthed a 'thank you' up to God. The other furs doing the same (in their own, silent ways). And the grey-furred mouse opened the pod. "Let's go," he said.
Bell-Bell giggled, following him in.
Leaving Aria and Ross lingering in the wet grass. With the smell of damp earth. And the sound of songbirds.
"The storm is gone," the snow rabbit told him.
"I know," he whispered.
"And the fear?"
"Gone, too," the vole confided.
"I suppose it's only ever gray for a day. Or an hour," the snow rabbit said.
"I suppose, but ... my favorite color's blue." The meadow mouse closed his eyes and tilted his muzzle upward. Letting the bright blue sky and the yellow sun ... warm the green grass. And his dirt-brown fur.
"Come on, lazy tails!" Herkimer squeaked. Literally bouncing on his foot-paws. He was eager to get back to the ship. To get back to Opal, his mate.
Ross, grabbing Aria's paw, gently led her into the pod.
Another storm down. And who knew how many ... left to go.
But they were survivors.