House In The Woods - Good End
Stepping out of the bath, Ava dried herself off and took a deep breath, doing her best to stay positive and focus on the things she could still be happy about. Like, all things considered, she felt pretty okay. Like she could do walk the five miles out to the highway no problem.
Stepping out of the bathroom, the leopard took a deep breath and passed the front door, gazing longingly out at the late afternoon sky for a moment before continuing. She couldn't just run, as much as she wanted to. Her only conceivable escape route would take her right past the kitchen window, where Peter was doubtlessly looking.
Peter was in the middle of measuring dry ingredients when she entered the kitchen, it looked like he'd decided to go with German chocolate cake. The otter was preoccupied with reading the instructions on the back of the cake mix box, the oven already set to preheat.
She started to move past. If only she could get to the bedroom for just a minute, then she could hurriedly crush the pills to powder and-
"Where are you going?" Peter asked, watching her out of the corner of his eyes.
Ava took a deep breath, reminding herself to be calm.
"To the bedroom." She said.
"How come?" Peter asked.
"I need to get my collar on." Ava said, unable to make eye contact with the otter, a hot bloom of shame rolling through her.
The otter cocked his head, a grin spreading across his face.
"Okay," he said, "but don't take too long."
Ava promised not to and all but ran to the bedroom, heart hammering in her chest. Finding the loose seam, she dug out the little fold of paper she'd been keeping the pill fragments in, and set it on the ground before pressing down on top of it with one knee, crushing the pills to powder. It hurt a little, but she kept at it until there were no chunks left, only a fine white dust.
With that, she wrapped her fingers around the packet and reluctantly clipped her collar on before moving back into the kitchen.
Peter had his back turned to her and Ava quickly settled down at the table, slipping the little paper packet underneath the napkin at her place. There was her magazine too, open to the last page she'd been reading.
Woodpeckers.
They were nature's most determined nest building bird, the magazine claimed, and never gave up, no matter how many obstacles arose before them.
Closing the magazine, Ava watched Peter mix the cake batter. For a moment she considered slipping the powder into there...it would certainly be more difficult to detect in food, but then immediately shot that idea down.
Peter would need to eat the entire cake to feel the full effect, and Ava knew that she'd be expected to eat a slice as well.
No...it would have to be his drink. Whatever it was that Peter was planning to drink, he didn't seem to have anything out yet.
"Peter?" She asked, "...could I have something to drink, please?"
The otter glanced back, nodding.
"Such good manners," he marveled, then turned to the fridge, opening it up, "what do you want? Water? Milk? Juice?"
"Milk, please." Ava mumbled, made uneasy by just how...normal Peter was being. She knew she ought to be relieved that he wasn't assaulting her in some fashion, but the apparent ordinariness only made her more tense.
"Milk goes best with cake." Peter said approvingly.
Were they not having dinner? Well...Ava supposed that was a silly thing to assume. When Peter was looking forward to something he almost never put it off for longer than he absolutely had to.
Peter fetched a pair of glasses and filled them both, Ava slightly relieved to find that he was drinking something colored and flavored. That would make it easier for the powder to go undetected.
But not now. He was still moving around too much, fetching things from cabinets and greasing pans and generally being worryingly industrious. It was clear that the otter took his birthday (even if it wasn't really his birthday) quite seriously.
"Say," he said, glancing back at her, watching Ava nurse her milk, eyes catching on the droplets of white rolling down her whiskers, "the cake is about to go into the oven, why don't you show me your present while it's baking."
Ava blinked hard, fingers tightening around her glass even as she tried hard not to be visibly scared. This had always been coming, she told herself, as firmly as she could.
"...How long does the cake take?" She asked in lieu of an answer to Peter's request.
The otter glanced at the box, not seeming to realize she was stalling.
"About thirty minutes, then it has to cool."
The cake went in the oven, a little wave of heat rolling through the kitchen, ruffling the edges of Ava's magazine.
"I always opened presents with cake." Ava said, taking care not to sound like she was disagreeing or stalling.
Peter contemplated for a moment as he set the measuring cups into the sink, then paused over the mixing bowl, glancing over to Ava.
"Almost forget the best part," he said, carrying it over to the kitchen and setting it in front of his place, sitting down with a sigh, "...your parents ever let you have the leftover batter?"
Ava blinked hard at the mention of her parents, eyes drifting to the tabletop, well away from Peter and the mixing bowl. Once more she felt jittery and unsafe, right on the edge of total destruction.
She had to remind herself that she was fine. He didn't know about the powder. He didn't have any idea about her plan.
"...Not if it had eggs in it." She said quietly, still struggling to get herself back under control.
Peter rolled his eyes, cheerfully dismissive of that concern.
"It won't hurt you," he said, with something that might have been reassurance, "now come on, what do you say?"
As she watched, Peter undid his pants and kicked them off, shifting so he was facing sideways in his chair, facing her, cock already hard and ready. The otter gathered a little dollop of batter on the tip of one finger and smeared it over the tip of his shaft.
"My treat." He said, motioning for her to come closer.
Ava slowly obeyed, shutting her eyes as she sank to her knees and opened her mouth. Peter's paws framed her head, slowly rubbing behind her black furred ears, the pointed tip of his cock sliding along her tongue.
She could taste the creamy sweetness of chocolate, intermingled with the salt and iron of Peter's pre. The otter was clearly excited, balls already jerking in their sack, pre splashing the roof of Ava's mouth.
"You've gotten so good at this," Peter said, rubbing behind Ava's ears, "I'm glad we don't have to use the ring gag anymore."
Ava almost would have preferred that the restraint was stallion place. It maddened her knowing that she could bite down at any moment yet chose not to. But what would that really accomplish other than enraging the otter?
It wasn't like it had a total chance of incapacitating him, and...
Peter shoved in, up to the hilt, Ava's eyes filling with tears as the otter humped her face with hard, relentless strokes, groans and gasps leaking from between clenched teeth.
Then he was cumming down her throat, cock jerking, balls tightening against her chin as a veritable flood of warm, salty cum filled her stomach. Ava gagged but managed to stay still, even as every muscle in her body screamed for her to jerk away.
Peter withdraw only slowly, cock spitting one last desultory rope of seed across Ava's front, otter cum caressing one onyx nipple. Ava sank down onto her rear, gasping for breath, eyes swimming with tears.
"I remember the first time you did that," Peter said fondly, "you almost passed out."
It took everything Ava had in her not to punch the otter right between the legs.
She had to stick to the plan.
Instead her eyes rose to where Peter's glass of milk sat, still virtually untouched. She took some solace in knowing that, soon, it would become a vehicle for her liberation.
Once she'd recovered her breath, Peter guided her mouth back onto his softening cock until he was confident that it was cleaned. Ava shut her eyes and let Peter move her head, running her tongue mechanically over the otter's member.
She could smell the cake beginning to bake, and by the time Peter let her off, with a little pat on the head that sent shivers of rage and shame jittering through her, he seemed satisfied that it was about baked.
Indeed, after testing it with the blade of a knife, the otter folded up a pair of washcloths and set the cake atop the oven to cool, finding another bowl and getting to mixing the icing. Ava wiped her lips and rinsed her mouth as best she could, finishing her glass of milk in short order. Glancing back, Peter smirked as he poured her a fresh glass.
"Kittens really do love cream, don't they?" He asked, and slid his paw down the front of Ava's chest, enjoying the erratic jump in her heart rate as he did so.
Ava simply stared ahead and kept her mouth closed, thinking hard about the little packet of paper hidden beneath her napkin.
"I am looking forward to seeing what my present is," the otter said as he turned back to the icing, "...do you want to see yours?"
"I want to give you yours first." Ava said quickly, and though Peter looked distantly disappointed, he didn't argue.
The frosting went on the cake, dribbling down the sides, pulling at the cake itself. Peter hadn't waited for it to cool enough, but the cake's somewhat raggedy appearance didn't seem to bother him all that much.
As he worked, Ava slowly, carefully pulled the paper packet out from under her napkin and leaned over the table, pouring the powder into his milk without hesitation, white disappearing into white.
For a half second she hesitated, unsure if she ought to simply call it good right there, but a sudden image came to mind. What if the powder simply clumped together? What if Peter came across a big clot of sediment at the bottom of his glass and realized what had happened?
Carefully, Ava took up a butterknife and dipped the blade into the otter's glass, stirring delicately, ever so careful not to let the utensil hit the sides of the glass.
In front of her, Peter continued working, patching the sides of the cake with more frosting, his concentration absolute.
"Hey," Ava jolted in place, but the otter's tone was distracted, attention still on the cake, where he was trying to cover a portion with more frosting, "come on over here. Try some frosting."
Ava wiped the butterknife dry on the fur of one forearm and replaced it, sliding down from her seat, heat hammering in her chest, dread and a strange, incandescent joy dueling for prominence in her chest.
She'd done it. The powder was in Peter's drink.
Now all she had to do was wait.
She crumpled the packet in her paw and flicked it into the corner, well away from Peter. The otter glanced over at her as she reluctantly approached, then smiled and offered the little rubber spatula he was using to coat the cake.
Ava took a polite little lick, though her appetite had never been more nonexistent. The sweetness of the frosting was almost overwhelming and something told Ava that it would probably take her some time to stop associating chocolate with the taste of Peter's cum.
As she watched, the otter moved the cake to the table, coupling it with a long, sharp knife, the blade gleaming. Ava caught her reflection in the stainless steel for a moment, but forced her eyes to drift away.
"Alright," Peter breathed a little sigh of relief, gaze roving hungrily over Ava's naked body, "time for presents."
As he spoke, he took up his glass and took a large sip before hesitating, nose wrinkling.
"Ugh." He grimaced at the glass, eyes flickering to Ava, who felt the bottom of her stomach drop out, "...your milk taste alright?" He asked.
Ava managed to nod.
"I...I think so." She managed.
Peter set his glass back down and moved to the fridge, opening it up and rummaging for the gallon jug he'd poured from.
Oh no.
If he tasted from the jug and found that it was fine then there was a serious possibility he'd deduce what had happened. And if he did that...
Ava stepped up onto her chair, then sat on the table itself, spreading her legs, Peter catching the movement out of the corner of his eyes. He paused, momentarily distracted.
"I..." For a moment Ava was frozen. Oh fuck, what was she doing? "I wanted to give you your present." She managed at last, trembling in place.
The otter let go of the jug and shut the fridge, a slow smile appearing.
Ava dipped a pair of fingers between her legs and slid them into herself, Peter sitting down before her, cock already hard and throbbing, eyes locked on her midnight toned slit.
She continued to pump into herself, adding a third finger and feeling moisture beginning to slacken her progress as she moved. Still, she didn't feel much besides an internal pressure, fear anesthetizing any sensation that might have otherwise arisen. Still, Peter could see her juices glistening, the otter's ears perking at the noises that arose, the sight of the fur between Ava's legs growing damp.
"Now your tail-hole." He breathed, stroking his cock with one paw, the other fondling Ava's thigh.
Ava knew better than to disobey, even as she quietly wondered just what she was going to do. Peter had noticed that something was off about the milk, which probably meant he wasn't going to drink any more.
Shit...
What now?
Her soaked fingers made the short jump from her slit to her tail-hole, delicately prodding her pucker for a hesitant moment. Then, knowing she had to, Ava slid one in. It went in surprisingly easily, and she made sure her tail was off to the side so that Peter could see. She had to lay a little further back to do this, shuffling to the side so she wouldn't hit the cake.
In the corner of one eye she could see the gentle gleam of the overhead lights on the blade of the cake knife. It was almost hypnotizing...but surely she couldn't just stab Peter, no matter how tempting that was.
Her fear ran up against an icy sort of pragmatic desperation.
What other choice did she have?
She pushed a second finger into herself with a muted whimper of discomfort. It didn't hurt exactly, but it felt weird putting things up her tail-hole. Peter stared, transfixed, a little spurt of pre leaping free from the tip of his cock, spattering on the kitchen floor.
Then he was standing up, paws stroking over Ava's front, caressing her nipples for a moment as he positioned himself between her legs. Ava withdrew her paw, alarmed,thinking he was going to aim for her pussy, but...
She felt a hard pressure against her tail-hole and whimpered, shutting her eyes tight as Peter shoved into her with a brilliant, red hot shock of pain. Ava's legs spasmed and she felt her tail whack Peter hard on the inside of one thigh. The otter hardly seemed to notice as he pushed further in with a satisfied grunt, hot splashes of pre soaking the little leopard's velvety inner walls.
"You're so soft," he panted, establishing a tempo, hips hammering against hers as he hugged Ava tightly to himself, "...thanks for the present."
Peter came with a final convulsive jerk of his hips, hunched over Ava, gripping her so tightly that she thought her ribs were going to snap. The otter's balls jerked against the underside of her tail and Ava felt jets of seed scald the inside of her rear, setting her abused hole aflame.
There were tears in her eyes, she realized as she sobbed for breath, working her arms free of Peter's grasp. The otter hardly seemed to notice, holding her close, nipping at one ear, provoking involuntary flutters from it.
"That wasn't my present." Ava muttered, still recovering her breath, doing her best to ignore the pain radiating from between her legs.
Peter blinked, confused, looking at her.
"Happy birthday." Ava said, and jammed the knife, which she'd been loosely holding for the past few moments, into the otter's side, just below his ribs.
Peter yelped, jolting back, nearly tearing the knife from Ava's grip as he reeled away, both paws clasped to his side, where crimson was beginning to stain his fur. His cock pulled from Ava's stretched tail-hole with a pop, followed by a small flood of alabaster cum, Ava rolling off the table, landing on rubbery legs as she ran for the door, cum running down the insides of her thighs.
Peter lunged after her but caught his legs on his own chair and fell hard against the wall of the kitchen with a crash that seemed to shake the entire house.
"You bitch!" He howled, staggering back to his feet, blood dribbling down his side, both paws stained up to the wrist with it.
Then Ava was at the front door. She fumbled with the lock, accidentally nicking the side of her paw with the blade of the knife, flipping the deadbolt before twisting the handle.
Still locked.
Oh fuck.
She turned her head. Peter was moving down the hallway towards her, face contorted into a snarl, one paw extended, the other still clamped over his gashed side.
"Just come here," he growled, "I'm not gonna hurt you."
Ava turned back to the door and undid the lock on the knob itself. She could see murder blazing in Peter's eyes.
She opened the door and the otter lunged, Ava slashing out and catching his wrist with the blade. Peter writhed back, wounded paw clutched his chest, blood pattering to the floor. Still he kept coming.
Stagering out onto the porch, Ava slammed the door in his face and ran out in front of Peter's house, her heart in her throat. There was his truck, there was a mobile camper that looked about half rusted out.
No, she couldn't hide there.
She needed to run.
Passing his truck at a dead run, Ava clutched the handle of the knife with both paws and rammed the blade into the sidewall of one tire, an explosive hiss of air blowing the fur on her arms back. The truck slumped to the side.
She did it again, on the front driver's side tire, and then heard the door open, Peter limping onto the porch. He was illuminated by the lights inside, the fur on his side and chest spiky with blood, one paw still clutched tight to his chest.
For a moment his gaze roved wildly around, then he caught sight of her. Ava could see something in the otter's free paw, slimed with blood but still clearly recognizable.
Keys.
Oh no.
She turned and ran down the road, didn't even want to contemplate going into the woods just yet. She didn't know them, and the last thing she needed was to get lost again.
This time she wouldn't find anyone.
This time she would die.
Behind her, the engine of Peter's truck started and Ava spun around. She'd gone perhaps thirty yards down the road. Should she run into the woods? Wait...
The headlights, all she could see of Peter's truck, weaved from side to side, the otter clearly realizing that his tires on one side were flat. The horn blared, a furious exclamation into the dark, then Ava could see the truck itself.
Peter wasn't going too fast, he hadn't had much room to accelerate, but she could see gravel spitting out behind him, a cloud of dust arising.
And suddenly the truck was canting to one side, not following the curve of the road. For a moment there was the roar of the engine, then a resounding, crashing crunch as he hopped the ditch and smashed straight into a tree.
Ava stood still, heart fluttering in her chest, knife held down by one side, printing a triangle of crimson on one thigh.
It took her a moment to realize that, beyond the roar of blood in her ears, the truck's horn was blaring.
She could see the wreck pretty well from where she was, one back wheel hanging into the ditch, the truck itself titled to one side at about a forty five degree angle. The hood had been crunched nearly in two and the windshield was nothing more than a mass of cracks.
Through the broken out driver's side window, Ava could see that the console light had come on.
And there was Peter, slumped over the wheel, forehead on the horn.
She took a slow step back. Then another.
Peter didn't move. The horn kept going.
Ava took a deep breath, a tear sliding down her face. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or burst into sobs.
In the end she turned around and shuffled down the road, knife still clutched in one paw.
So long as the horn kept going, she thought, that meant that Peter was still inside of the truck and well away from her.
The noise of the horn was weirdly comforting as she continued on down the road.
After some time it faded away into the distance, but Ava kept on walking, even if she jumped at every shadow and held the knife out before her, like she was a fantasy knight facing down a dragon.
It took her some time to get to the road, and by the time she did the first grayish glimmers of morning light were appearing on the horizon, outlining the trees. Birds were beginning to sing.
The highway was a little two lane affair, framed by the forest and necklace by the occasional shredded tire and piece of litter.
Ava stared blankly at the concrete for a moment, then stepped out onto it, glancing back at the road that led to Peter's cabin for a moment before letting out a little sigh.
Somewhere in front of her, far away, she heard the rush of an approaching car, the hum of an engine.
Ava let the knife drop from her paw. It clattered into the gravel and she stepped forward, stopping just short of the white painted line that marked the edge of the road.
There was a car coming, brake lights coming on as it caught sight of her. Slowly, it pulled to a halt, the driver's side door popping open and a black furred fox nearly clotheslining herself with her seatbelt before remembering to take it off.
She stepped in front of her car, blinking as she looked Ava over.
For a moment Ava was almost surprised by the fox's reaction, then she remembered how she had to look, covered in dust, fur spiked with blood and dried cum.
"...Are you okay, sweetie?" The fox asked, the fur on her tail beginning to rise up.
Ava wasn't sure what to say.