Symphonie Fantastique (Act I): Scenes 2, 3, and 4.
#2 of Illustrious
Illustrious: Symphonie Fantastique (Act I): Scenes 2, 3, and 4
Production number FY-3, Revision H, Part 2
Story copyright MMVII Ironsides WordSmithing, a division of Sylderon Machine Works, in cooperation with HoosierMousie Ltd.
Overall setting and all characters except Kalmbach are property of Field, usage subject to approval.
This story is meant as a continuation of the storyline in Solstice: Friend, Foe, or Something Else? http://www.yiffstar.com/index.php?pid=11739 and it is very strongly suggested that that story be read first. It is similarly suggested that the rest of Solstice series be read, as well as the Luminous series, the Arctic series, and everything else written by Squirrel (his output is both considerable and of consistent high quality).
"What a mess!" the dark-brown meadowmouse squeaked to himself. Of course, he was in the ship's Mess, but that wasn't what he was referring to. He could see into the Galley; most of the pots knocked off their hooks, water on the floor from broken pipes, dangling wires no longer sparking, as the power had been shut off in all non-essential compartments.
But the Galley is very essential, Ross thought to himself. The crew has to eat, right? But not right now, I suppose.
He made his way through the puddles and around the fallen ceiling panels, picking up spatulas, wire-whisks and tongs, noting that they all would have to be cleaned before the next meal.
The mouse's ears swivelled about, as they always did, listening to the sounds of the ship healing: The flash and sputter of arc-welding, deck and hull plates being hammered back into some semblance of their normal shape. But the throbbing of the ship's heart, the reactor core, was silent, shut down as a precaution after the coolant leaks. Emergency power was being provided by the back-up fission reactor, along with an umbilical cable from the Illustrious.
The ears of a meadowmouse (or vole, if you prefer) are not quite as large as those of a fieldmouse, and especially not a dormouse, whose ears almost crossed the line between cute and comical. And why should a fieldmouse be different from a meadowmouse, as a field and a meadow weren't all that different, right?
Not that I had any control over my species, Ross thought to himself. I was a human, and what I am now is due to science, applied not for the benefit of society or the improvement of life, but perverted into serving to dominate, perhaps even exterminate others.
True, having enormous ears did make it easier to hear, and fur helped to keep warm, but there were also drawbacks to becoming a mouse, from keeping track of his tail, to thoroughly brushing his fur, to dealing with all those mousey ideosynchrosies. It was not easy to be a mouse, especially on a warship.
But then, his ears reminded him how he could get through it all. He heard his name called, in a voice that was calm, crisp, very cool and self-assured. Some of that self-assurance was transferred to Ross, and he calmed, looked back to the entrance of the Mess, and responded, also with a name.
"Aria."
"I could not locate you in our quarters, and Lipton said that you had left Hydroponics, so I deduced that you would be here."
"Your deduction is quite correct," Ross responded, stiffening his posture and clasping his paws behind his back.
The stately snow rabbit hopped toward him, stopping at the serving counter. "I do believe that you are mocking me," she said calmly. Her voice displayed no frustration, as she did not feel any.
"Again, you are correct," Ross smiled.
"You are being quite silly."
"Agreed. But I think that silliness can be helpful to snow rabbits...at least in moderate doses."
Aria's icy gaze softened. "Quite true, except I come here not for silliness."
"Well, Galley's closed until...um...whenever they get around to repairing everything, I guess."
"I suspected as much, but I believe that there is something other than food which you can provide me." Snow rabbits, as a rule, do not wink, but Aria seemed like she wanted to.
"I wonder what that could be?" Ross asked, remaining cheeky.
"I believe you know exactly to what I am referring. You may be silly, but I do not think that you are naive in that subject. Now, would you please come along, or do I have to make my request a formal command?" she said, placing her paws on her hips.
"Pulling rank, are we now?"
"I do outrank you, Ensign. And, should it prove necessary, I shall pull you away by your tail," she threatened with mock-seriousness.
"Well, if you put it that way..." Ross broke off into a giggle and a goofy grin, unable to keep up this game, but he didn't mind losing. He ambled out from behind the counter and took Aria's paws in his own. "Shall we go, then?"
Aria responded in the same fashion. "Yes. I am glad that we have come to an understanding on this matter."
"As am I, my love."
---Act I, Scene 3.
Advent climbed up the ladder from E to B Deck, the lifts not operating under emergency power. She certainly did not expect to meet Captain Kalmbach again, and the contact filled her with dangerous, conflicting emotions.
She remembered the dream she had had a few nights before. A dream in which the snow leopard had trapped her, dominated her, raped her repeatedly for hours on end. Except, it was not exactly rape. Advent realized that she longed for him to pin her on her back; to be writhing and squirming with pleasure beneath that big, powerful body; to feel those muscular hips of his thumping against her own, thrusting his rampant masculinity deep within her, its nubs tickling her most secret places in such wonderful ways, before filling her again and again with his rich seed.
Advent had come to realize that love was not necessarily just another weakness inherent in prey. She realized that, just as she had lured Herkimer into her claws with the promise of being loved, so too did that promise pull on her. That there could be a single individual out there who would devote his affections to her alone was an attractive concept, and one that aroused her with feelings of power. That she should want to similarly devote herself to a mate had never crossed her mind, until recently.
Kalmbach had shattered her veneer of invincibility, and she felt, for the first time, personally incomplete. True, she had always desired a mate that could fulfill her needs; it was that her needs had changed. There was still the need to be yiffed: That was deep-seated, biologically hard-wired into her and every other creature (except, probably, the wasps). Now she felt a need to be cuddled, to be embraced, to be genuinely loved...and to love in return.
She wished so strongly that she could remain with the other feline, but she knew that it simply was not possible. For one thing, they were assigned to different ships with different missions, and even with her limited understanding of love, Advent could imagine how difficult a long-range mateship would be. And while Kalmbach was charming and handsome, and could make her feel very good, there was still an underlying creepiness to him, something sinister lurking beneath a charismatic exterior. That, and his description of his own madness, made it obvious that it would never work; they were just too different.
And that was why, after reluctantly leaving his kind words and gentle touches, she had made her way here: Hydroponics.
---Act I, Scene 4.
Welly's ear twitched at the sound of the door to Sickbay sliding open. Not more, he thought to himself. He had just finished washing his paws, after wiping up the blood from the floor. There had already been a dozen or so casualties brought to him, but thankfully no fatalities, and only a few needing to stay in Sickbay, the rest returing to their quarters to recuperate.
He perked up at hearing the sound of hooves on the smooth floor. He desperately wanted to see Bell-Bell, and not just to make sure she was alright. But these hooves did not have the quick, light sound of his dearest deer. Rather, they were heavy steps, slow and methodical. The swishing of a long tail followed.
Welly called out. "Hey, Opal."
The Jersey sat down with a snuffle. "Good, the Doctor is in. Long day for you?"
"Yeah, and just about over, too," he responded, drying his paws. "Same for you?"
"Well, I just spent two hours backplotting the enemy's course to see where they came from. We don't have any nearby reference points, so I had to triangulate everything from scratch, and our gimbals went out when we lost power." She sighed and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Same for you?" she asked, repeating Welly.
"I've been patching up about a dozen crew."
"Any lost?"
"Some came close, but no deaths, thank goodness. I take it you're hear to see someone?"
Opal stood again. "Yes, and I think you know who."
"Of course," responded Well, and led her to one of the recovery beds, drawing aside the curtain.
Opal moaned in sympathy at what she saw. The little grey mouse lay silent, unmoving except for the slight rise and fall of his chest. Wires and tubes connected his frail form to various devices, monitoring his pulse, blood pressure, and neural activity, delivering oxygen and medicines. A large part of his head, between his ears, was bandaged. His ears did not swivel, nor did his whiskers twitch, his nose sniff, his tail wriggle.
Opal was almost afraid to speak, but she felt she had to. "How is he?"
The skunk suppressed a yawn before answering. "Hairline fracture of the upper skull, pretty serious concussion, but subdural hematoma is minimal."
"What about his brain?"
"Well, there definitely will be a lengthy rehabilitation, mostly for psychological reasons. I think you know how to deal with that better than I do."
Opal certainly did. After the end of his abusive relationship with Advent, the fearful, twitchy mouse had become her mate, and he benefited greatly from her stable, gentle nature. Opal enjoyed lavishing care on him, just holding him, saying that everything would be all right.
Welly continued with his report. "I don't suspect any permanent brain damage, or even very much temporary impairment. He's lucky in that he got treatment quickly." Welly paused and smirked, in that way peculiar to skunks. "He's also lucky that he got his treatment from me."
"Shut up," Opal playfully reprimanded him, swatting at him with her tail. "But, really, I have to thank you."
"Well, it wasn't all me," Welly admitted with uncharacteristic modesty. "Mice are surprisingly hard to kill."
"Why, have you tried?" Another swat.
"Not since the simulators back in training. But they are resilient little fuzzballs. I mean, don't their tails ever get cold?" He swished his own luxurious appendage.
"Sometimes he has to wear a tail stocking, but at least he doesn't spend fourty minutes brushing it each morning."
"It's a trade-off, I guess," Welly sighed. "Has Bell-Bell been gossiping about my personal hygiene?"
"What doesn't she gossip about? But it was nothing unflattering." Opal took a deep breath and looked at her mate as he squirmed slightly on the bed.
"That's the first I've seen him move since putting him under. Perhaps he's reacting to your presence."
"God willing, he is," Opal whispered, mostly to herself. She turned back to the Doctor.
"Welly?"
"Heh?"
"I was wondering: Could I...uh...cuddle him? Is he well enough for that?"
"Mice always respond well to a good cuddle. Something that's a bit beyond my regular course of treatment. Go right ahead; just be careful of his skull."
"Of course."
"Another thing, Opal."
"Yes, Doctor?"
"Don't do anything that would elevate his blood pressure too much."
Opal adopted Welly's usually cheeky demeanor. "Why, whatever do you mean, Doctor?"
"No mooing, or anything beyond cuddling. I'm not joking here. His blood pressure must be kept down until the swelling on his brain decreases; that's why I sedated him. I'm not about to use the alternative procedure."
"And that would be...?"
"Drilling a hole in his skull and inserting a drain."
"I agree, not a good option. I will be gentle; I always am." She smiled at Welly with her big, soft eyes.
"I never doubted you. I'll leave you alone; I will be in my quarters should you need anything." The Medical Officer drew the curtains and departed with a flourish of his tail.
Opal sat on the edge of the bed, which responded with a quiet squeak. She was a cow, after all: Big, solidly-built, her stocky frame offset by ample feminine curvatures. Cows were big, just as mice were small.
Another quiet squeak, but not from the bed. Herkimer wriggled a bit closer to the warm mass beside him. Opal lied down fully, gently lifting Herkimer so he wasn't pushed off the other side. He snuggled around, his head resting on the pillowy softness of Opal's generous bosom.
The Jersey's soft brown eyes moistened as she held Herkimer with her strong, yet gentle hoof-hands. He was so frail, so timid, he was just like a baby, except that he could walk and talk and didn't need his nappy changed. So gentle, so loving, with those big eyes (now closed) gazing into her own. The look of longing, hoping, ultimately fulfilled through her love. And he was so adorable, especially when she got him to squeak.
Squeaker-squeak!
Opal started a bit, feeling Herkimer start rustling around. His nose began to sniff-twitch slowly, and he gave a soft sigh, as if recognizing her familiar scent. He opened his mouth for another squeak, licking his lips, sticking his tongue out slightly. He nuzzled around until he found one of Opal's uniform buttons, then tried to pull it in with his lips.
Opal's eyes widened with realization of Herkimer's unconscious activities. She spoke to him.
"Mousey wanna suck on somethin', hmm?" she cooed into his ear. "I think mousey wants a drink."
She shifted position and began undoing her buttons, pulling the uniform open. Herkimer nuzzled against her short, golden-brown fur. "Not just yet," she whispered. "One more thing to go." She unfastened the front clasp of her bra, releasing the large globes. Herkimer snuffled through her fuzziness until he felt his goal.
Cows tend to lactate continuously through their child-bearing years, and Opal murred as she felt Herkimer's moist lips close around her stubby pink protrusion. He began suckling, furthering the comparison to an infant. He was not normally this helpless, though.
"There you go, my dear sweet mouse," Opal cooed into his ear. He was hers, and she was his. Body, mind, soul, life bound together in holy matrimony, complete with a signed statement from Captain Advance. All hardships would be endured together...
And all joys, all pleasures shared.
Squeak-squeak! went Herkimer inbetween sucks.
"Drink up!" Opal sighed. "You need plenty of calcium." Oh, drink all I have, thought the cow, as she moaned a bit louder. A thin string of drool, combined with her warm cream, trickled slowly through her short fur, while Herkimer's soft lips and tongue continuously massaged her nipple. She churred softly at this constant tickling, feeling the growing warmth and wetness between her legs.
She longed for Herkimer to bury his mousey muzzle into her moistened muff, but remembered Welly's instructions not to get him too excited. Instead, she freed one arm and shoved her paw down into her panties. She groaned as her thick fingers split the dripping folds, and nuzzled her moist pink nose against Herkimer's big fuzzy ear.
"Sorry sweetie, but Doctor Welly says I can't play with your squeaky toy," Opal churred, using the common slang for mouse penis, because of the noise mice made whenever it was squeezed. "Not until you're better. So drink up, milk is good for you. And when that bump on your head is gone...huh...oh, yes! Then I will make you all squeaky. Oh yes, I will! Oh yes, oh...huh...huh!"
Opal's frame shuddered, her limbs siezed up, and she let out a deep moo as her nectar dribbled around her fingers. Opal managed to turn her head, so she was not panting heavily into Herkimer's ear, which tends to excite mice. He began nosing around for her other breast. Opal tried to help him without putting her messy paw near his nose. Herkimer remained oblivious, lost in his desire to suckle.
Suckle-suckle...
Squeak...
Burp!
"So adorable!" Opal managed to gasp.