Hare and the Mask - Tricks and Traps
#3 of Extreme Stories
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The stories in this series, at leasts Chapters 1 to 4 are from a tournament I was participating in run by everyones favourite ball snacking tiger Charn. This isn't something I'd normally have written before entering this tournament but I was encouraged to enter and managed to hold my own for three rounds.
Sadly I lost in Round 4 of the tournament, but I wanted to post these up for people to enjoy should they wish to read them. I have some plans in the works to continue the story to bring it to a conclusion in my own manner. But for now enjoy.
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Walking through the forest, Horatio continued his expedition to bring peace and the light of the Lord to the sinners who had come to this island. He had had some success in to the town already. Several young men he had separated from the source of their lust and brought into the light. They had not been very grateful when he was baptising them but that would soon change as their bodies adjusted. With the source of their lust and sinful thoughts taken away, they would soon find their urges fading and purity and a sense of new purpose would fill their bodies as the Lord blessed them. It was a shame he had lost track of his first target, but he was sure the white ram would receive his due. He had given off such an air of arrogance and sin with his fancy outfit designed to show off his body and his jewellery flashing and sparkling in the morning sunshine. He was the depraved sort of celebrity type the priest had sworn to stamp out to help the world find the lord once more. Still, he must not be bitter that they had escaped. The Lord would catch up with him soon enough for his sins.
The town had seemed to be empty by the time the bear was done. The surviving competitors, like the sun bear, had left it behind to enter the woodlands, heading toward the tower in the centre of the island. He figured those who were determined to win would have raided the houses and shops of the settlement by now and headed out into the woods. It would be more dangerous now, but the Lord was on his side and he would not fail. With his faith to guide and protect him, and the Sacred Ring of Torment, he would bring the light to all these sinners. Striding through the brush, the robed ursine pushed his way through a line of trees and started down a shallow incline toward a stream that bubbled merrily through this patch of the forest. He froze, rounded ears swivelling as he detected footsteps. He crouched hurriedly behind a stand of bushes, and peered out at to see who was walking along the bank of the stream below.
An impressive mink was moving through the brush, walking along the riverbank, dressed in comfortable clothing and holding a large staff. He wasn't using it as a walking aid or to push his way through the underbrush, it looked more like it was something to have on hand as a weapon. The heavy knife hanging from his belt also lacked the look of a weapon, more a convenient tool for being out in the wild. His body was fit, limber, and slinky; he looked as if he knew how to take care of himself. The mink, however, was only one of the reasons Horatio had paused to watch. He could just make out a figure slinking through the brush on the other side of the stream, moving through the dappled shadows of the woodland. He caught a hint of tawny yellow fur and black spots, powerful muscles and a silent grace that left the forest undisturbed by his passage -- a cheetah in the prime of his life, with all the deadly grace of a predator born. The sun bear was about to call out to the mink and warn him, when a shaft of light caught the feline, illuminating his face. It was cruel, feral, a wild hunter's face. For a moment, courage failed him and he drew back, if he called out and alerted the mink the stalking predator was likely to take out his frustration on him. If he was going to stand a chance of taking down such a powerful sinner, it had to be from a position of strength and surprise. Pulling back into the shadows, Horatio fingered the sacred ring of torment and considered what was going on below and how best to approach this.
Strolling along the banks of the river, the wandering mink swung his staff from side to side, twirling it as he kept his eyes and ears on the forest around him. The river offered a good path to follow, but it had the risk of being out in the open, more exposed than slinking about through the woodland. It also played nicely into his plan. Let them think he was an easy mark, let them underestimate the stupid city boy following the clear path, and when they pounced, take them down. It had worked too. He had been watching the cheetah stalk him for the last five minutes, and he was glad to be up against someone with some skills for a change. This feline was quite good; someone less skilled might not have spotted him. Silent on his paws, controlled, measured breathing and even his scent was masked by the mink's own powerful, male scent. What had given him away was the fact that the wandering mink knew to pay attention to what was not there, the little things civilized people forgot to pay attention too. The way the birds went silent, small animals moving through the canopy from this river bank across to the other or falling silent and hiding, all signs that someone else was nearby. Then it was just a matter of looking around for the source and not giving away what he had seen. The cheetah was about five yards away in the brush now, stalking him, hunting him. The atmosphere felt tense, a powerful feeling of suspension was building, that eternal moment of time, the hunter and hunted, both aware of each other but not sure if the other knew they knew. Tension building, the lingering moment when hunter and hunted were in tune with one another. The prey had been marked. All that remained now was the pounce and the answer to the question, what sort of prey would they turn out to be? Would they be all bite and no substance? Would they display skills equal to their own, sophisticated and well trained or would they be brute force and muscle?
Walking along the riverbank, the mink swung his staff from side to side, casually strolling, muscles flowing beneath his clothes, as he let himself slip into a passive martial stance. Ready to react, ready to move, yet to the untrained eye he would just be walking along normally. Then the moment was upon him, the breaking point. The unspoken moment when he knew the hunt was over, it was time for the kill. A shift in the silence, a single crackle of leaves brushing against each other and the feline was pouncing.
Spinning on his feet, the mink met the pounce with his staff that the cheetah had been expecting and his feet, which he was not. The mustelid was good, body and staff moving as one, a single weapon that swayed out of the way of the cheetah's claws. Watching each other, they circled and the cheetah leapt and the mink dodged and swiped at him, missing as the feline jinked out of the way. He was fast, he was powerful, and though his skill in combat was all brute strength and natural weapons, it was trained skill. He had a feral light in his eyes but intelligence too. He probably would not get sloppy and angry like the mink's last opponent had. Gauging the creature as it turned for another attack, he decided on a strategy that might work, but he would have to be quick and overpower him before he tired. The feline could probably last longer in a one on one melee than he could. Laughing madly, a wild "kekekeke" sound, the martial artist leapt at the cheetah, making the next move before the cat, striking out like a whirlwind of limbs and staff. Wild brute force answered his attack and the two spiralled around one another, laughing and hissing in turn, as they battled to overpower the other.
Watching the battle unfolding below, Horatio was very glad he had not gotten involved. They were very good at fighting. One used his body as their only weapon, a whirling mass of wicked, unbelievably fast claws, teeth and muscle. The other was the opposite in form and style, slinky, slender, swaying like a reed in the wind, shifting from stance to stance, feet, hands, staff, elbows and knees. They were extensions of his body, every part under his control at all times ready to react and move. The bear could see the mink was not going to be able to keep going as long as the cheetah but he was expecting the martial artist to pull out some move that would put the feline out of action for good. It could almost have been a scene from a movie, the martial arts master versus the muscular lug. The two spinning and lunging, feinting and clawing at one another and then something peculiar drew his attention.
From his hiding place in the bushes father Horatio saw another shape shift through the shadows just below him. How long they had been there he did not know he only saw them now as they had moved. The dark figure had a feline cast to his ears and tail and he was watching the battle with an intense stare as if waiting for something. Then, as the mink danced past below, fending off another attack of claws and paw from the cheetah, the stranger's arm moved and something skimmed across the forest floor and struck the Mink.
Stumbling from the sudden impact against his ankles, the mustelid was thrown off balance, an opening the cheetah abused, lunging at the slender martial artist. Arms wrapped about his prey's torso, and the cat threw himself into the marshy streambed with the mink held beneath. Water and mud splashed up in all directions as the cheetah squeezed the breath out of the slinky woodland creature as he held him down in the mud. Growling in a powerful show of dominance, the cheetah pushed the mink deeper into the slippery muck of the streambed, until only his head was above the surface. Breathless attempts to wriggle free proving futile in this uncompromising position.
It looked like it was over but something about that lurking bobcat got on the big bear's nerves. It was not right. True, everyone on this island was a sinner of the worst kind, but that sort of action was base cunning and deceit. He would not -- no, could not -- sit idly by whilst these filthy feline sinners did the devil's work in earnest. Lumbering out of hiding he seized the startled bobcat from behind before he could react to the sudden bulky presence looming up behind him. Crushing him against his chest in powerful arms Horatio lumbered out of the brush. Robes flapping around his legs he let out a deep bellowing roar, startling the cheetah and the mink as he hurled the slinkier feline at the bulky wild animal. The two collided with a yowl of injured feline pride and collapsed into the water in a tangle of thrashing limbs. The cheetah was not happy. Interrupted in his moment of triumph, he lashed out at the bobcat and the two splashed in the water and mud angrily.
Horatio moved into the stream, sinking up to his ankles in the soft muck beneath the surface. Reaching down, he pulled the mink from the muddy water with a powerful heave of one arm. The two paused for a moment, no words where said as their eyes met, muddy water swirling around their ankles. The sounds of the forest, the yowls of the cheetah and the shouted complaints of the bobcat all fading into the background as a moment of peace seemed to envelop the pair. They were both competitors, soon they might meet and have to slice off the others balls, but for now they shared this moment of victory. For Horatio, he had defeated two beasts, true advocates of the devils wickedness in their moment of deceitfully gained triumph. This tall bright eyed ursine had lumbered out of the darkness bringing freedom and a chance to escape. In that moment, looking into each other's eyes understanding passed between them. The silence said "I might have to take your balls later, but for now... now we are on the same side" The mink bobbed his head in silent thanks and the bear grunted in acknowledgement, and then they parted ways. The moment of calm shattered as the cheetah threw the bobcat off him and screamed in anger. Venting his frustration on some overhanging vines he struggled to get to his feet, eyes alighting on the bear, they lit up with a mad light as an angry hiss escaped his muzzle.
Horatio did not wait for the cat to get back on his feet; he turned and lumbered back into the woods. The powerful, stocky ursine vanished amongst the trees. Having a few moments head start at least, he was sure he could escape from them. The Lord was on his side and good deeds were rewarded in due time. The mink took a different route to his unexpected saviour, scooping up his staff he fled up the stream. Splashing through the water, obfuscating his scent with the mud and water before striking off into the woodland at a dead run. He wanted to get some distance between himself and the scene of that little incident; he thought he had the measure of the cheetah. He had not been expecting someone so clearly on the edge of being feral as being the type to work with another. The bobcat had clearly been the cause for his sudden stumble though it raised the question of how he had gotten so close without him noticing. Maybe he had missed him whilst concentrating on the cheetah, but he had to have been lurking nearby to be so well positioned.
How the big bear in funny robes figured into all of this he did not know. But if he got the chance to collect that pair of ursine balls later, he'd do the big guy a favour and pay him back for his timely rescue by making his gelding a pleasant one. With a finally glance behind, the mink set off through the trees, racing to find a quiet patch of woodland to catch his breath in and formulate a new plan. The woods were full of targets he could introduce to the concept of donating to the feed a mink fund.
Half an hour later, the mink had put the incident by the stream behind him. His clothes had dried out, though now they were flaked with a layer of mud from his meeting with the filthy stream bed. Still, he could put up with a bit of mess for the chance to continue with this tournament. He would just have to be more careful; clearly some of the competitors had teamed up, which he felt was somewhat against the spirit of the contest, but he could deal with it.
Pausing with his back to a tree, the mustelid let his eyes rove around the woods, listening and watching, letting his beating heat slow as he got his breath back from his brisk run through the woods. He could detect no sign of pursuit, and it was his hope the cheetah had either done for the bobcat or had gone after the big bear. He preferred to have his next victim come to him in a setting of his own choice. Shaking his tail to dislodge some of the encrusted mud, he took a few steps forward, then paused as his eyes spotted something unusual about the brush of the forest floor. The path ahead of him was covered in black mulch and loam but a small patch had been covered over with fresh green leaves. Moving a few steps to one side, he circled the patch of leaves and crouched down. Carefully using his staff, he brushed aside the leaves and smiled softly at the coiled nylon rope beneath. Someone had clearly invaded a hardware store back in the town. As ingenious as their trap was, they had been sloppy in hiding it again. Still, bonus points for trying, and it meant someone skilled was nearby, probably waiting for their trap to go off. Moving cautiously back into the trees, the mink looked around at the forest floor, then tilted his head back and looked up at the canopy.
Scanning the treetops the mink was looking for anything out of the ordinary. Leaves, branches the odd small animal -- and there, partially obscured in the canopy, was a figure. The camouflage jacket mostly blended into the scenery, but against a backdrop of real flora, and against his well-trained eyes, it stood out like a sore thumb. Their back was too him, so he seized the initiative. Hopping over the hidden noose, he rolled then lunged upwards with his staff attempting to knock the person out of the tree. What he was not expecting was for his staff to slide through the jacket, fabric folding around the haft of his weapon and then the whole thing jerked up and out of his paws. Stumbling back, the mink froze and watched the abandoned piece of clothing jerk back and forth, his weapon bouncing around inside the snare. He could see it now, more nylon rope, cleverly hidden inside the coat to trigger if someone disturbed the jacket. If he had tried to tackle them out of the low hanging branches himself, it would have gotten him instead of his staff.
"Kekekekeke, very clever, well done, you nearly had me there." Looking around he crouched, waiting, listening for a response, but when none was forthcoming, he just smiled wider and started to move stealthily through the woodland. He spotted several other obvious traps, but they were not a threat, whoever had booby-trapped, this part of the woodlands had skill in setting traps, but not in hiding them. That did not mean he could afford to be careless, the trick with the jacket had been clever, if he had been closer and around the other side of the tree it would have failed to trick him. But they could perhaps get lucky with another trap, so caution was advised.
Sliding around a tree trunk, bright eyes watching the forest, the mink scampered across a patch of grass, hopping over a suspicious looking stump and flattening himself against another tree. Pulse racing, ears perked, every sense tuned into the very nature of the forest, this is what it felt to be alive. He had captured that moment again, the same as when the cheetah had been stalking him, the moment of wound up tension, an unknown assailant hidden in the trees. Hunter vs. hunted, even the fact he had not yet marked his quarry did not bother him; he would be victorious. These crudely hidden traps spoke of skill, but undisciplined, their education had been lacking in the field of disguise, or at least was not sophisticated enough to bamboozle someone of his calibre.
A snap of a branch made his ears perk. His body moved on instinct as he turned to face the direction of the noise. A swaying bush, a crackling of twigs and a glimpse of trouser clad legs. He leapt, rolling through the swaying bush and then at the last moment he leapt over the patch of disturbed earth, both feet coming down on the undisturbed loam beyond. His plan was to strike out at the figure he could just make out lurking behind the stand of bushes to his left. The same fabric as the jacket, camouflage material but their luck had betrayed them with the snapping of the branch. They were very well hidden he would never have seen them without the noise.
At the very last second he realised his mistake, his feet came down heavily on a patch of seemingly undisturbed loam. His weight made a depression in the ground then something snapped around his ankles. The world suddenly rushed past, the snare pulling him onto his back, and then the nylon rope yanked him off the ground by the feet. Twisting his body as he jerked into the air, he tried to free the knife hanging on his belt and slash at the nylon fibres holding his ankle. He was not fast enough; a figure loomed out of the brush to his right, dressed in a beige vest and boxers, the trousers he could just make out to the left had been another ruse. A glimpse of buckteeth, bright hazel eyes, and tall ears was all he had time to see before something slammed into the back of his head and everything went dark...
Lowering the unconscious mink to the ground, Eugene examined the knife he'd taken off his victim. It was a very nice knife and would come in handy further down the trail he was sure. Gripping the blade between his teeth he seized the mink's shoulders and pulled him into the bushes to a more secluded spot.
It had been a risky business picking this strategy, but the Sergeant had taught him to always think four steps ahead. The tricks with the jacket and the trousers had caught him out the first time they'd been used on him -- no one quite expected it. There had only been about four real traps, if his opponent had stopped to examine more than one or two of them he'd have soon discovered most of them were just a loop of nylon washing line under some scuffed up, badly disguised leaves. Still it had worked, and he felt quite proud about snaring this buff woodlander. He clearly knew his way around the woods, and Eugene had his doubts about being able to take him on in a fair head on battle.
Using the purloined knife, he cut off his victim's clothes and had to stop himself from fondling him before he was secure. He really did have a pair of very plump balls. Pulling his bag out of a small hollow, he took a packet of cable ties and started threading them together into a series of make-shift cuffs. He then looped them about the Mink's elbows, his wrists then circled a couple of larger chains around the base of a tree keeping the latest enemy combatant to fall afoul of him stuck in a sitting position
Some loops of washing line thread around thighs, knees and ankles fixed to the ground with tent pegs kept those powerful legs spread wide. Settling back on his haunches he examined his improvised restraints now that they were finished. It was amazing how you could turn everyday items into bondage gear, or, in this case, cuffs and chains. Little loops of plastic with one way zip-locks, tough nylon thread with a flexible steel core. On their own they were no threat, but used in skilled paws and in the right way, and it was left your victim unable to break free due to the lack of leverage.
Satisfied that his quarry wasn't going anywhere, and figuring he'd not wake up for a bit, the army hare slipped back through the trees to collect his trousers and jacket. Dumping his gear with the small knapsack he'd picked up in the house where he had enjoyed garlic fried sheep balls, Eugene knelt. Next, he stretched out on his chest, sliding his torso up between those spread legs and pressed his snout to those balls. The scent was intoxicating, rich and strong, masculine and laden with promise. Murmuring, he started to lick that furry sac, enjoying the feel of the warm fur against his tongue, sliding his tongue against first one, then another, of the mink's large testes.
Groaning in pain, no doubt from the throbbing headache the mink started to stir, hands and feet wriggling, but not getting far thanks to the bonds. Eugene grinned and continued to lick at those balls. He wanted his prisoner to be awake for this, so he shifted from nuzzling and licking that sac, to sucking on the tip of the plump sheath, inviting the steadily thickening dick up into his maw, groaning in delight at his first taste of pre.
Bit by bit the mink slowly became aware, welcomed back to the land of the living by the delightful sucking on his dick. Pulling back off that hard, leaking cock Eugene grinned at the mink. For a moment their eyes met, and the mustelid's expression was quite warm, it was a very way to wake back up, especially with the pain in his head. Then those dark eyes went flat as memory reminded him that he knew who this hare was, he'd seen him seconds before he cracked him about the head! Squirming he tried to move, to lash out, but all four of his limbs refused to budge. There was just a painful moment as something dug into his skin in several places.
Eugene groaned and ground his own dick against the forest floor. It was such a thrill watching a prisoner realise he was bound. Lowering his head, he slid his tongue along that thick dick and murmured gently as the mink hissed and tried to squirm some more. "Stop it!"
The hare just shook his head and opened wide, not answering the mink, just starting to suck him off. He was good, his tongue curled about the base of his dick even whilst his throat teased and squeezed his head. Biting back a moan of delight, the mink shook his head from side to side, trying to resist giving into pleasure. It was bearable, but as nice as it was, he had to focus on getting free. He threw off a few well placed insults concerning the fucker's parentage and sexual habits, but the hare just took his mouth back off his dick, gripped both balls, and squeezed them. This caused him to gasp and his captor quirked his ears forward then squeezed harder. It wasn't much, not by the standards of abuse he had given his balls in the past but it was nice nonetheless.
"So what, fucking sheep isn't that bad, quite fun actually," He laughed softly and used both hands to get the mink's testes between thumb and fore-finger. "Did you seriously think insults would work? Sarge wouldn't have sent someone who wasn't prepared to do anything to win."
"What... what do you mean oh gods no...." The mink moaned, cock jerking and leaking a copious stream of pre as the sleek muscular bunny started to apply pressure to his nuts, squeezing them between thumb and forefinger.
"Like that do we? Well, never let it be said I don't give a guy one last orgasm before they come off." He let go with one paw, and pulled out a cable tie and zipped it about his captive's balls. As Eugene pulled the little strop of plastic tight, the mink moaned, fear and arousal waging war as his sac was pulled away from his body, both balls making large, defined lumps as they were forced together. What happened next caught him by surprise, the can of shaving foam and the slick coolness of it being rubbed into his balls felt odd.
"Now... now what... oh...." he trailed off, staring in horror as the razor blade came out. Turning the blade this way and that, Eugene let the mink see how sharp it was, and then, with one foam slickened paw, he gripped that furry sac and started to drag the blade across it in a curve. Breath coming in short gasps, cock still rock hard and leaking, the mink could only stare as the hare methodically shaved his balls. The rasp of the razor blade against his fur, the tingling sensation left behind as the cool air touched the skin of his sac for the first time, it all felt good. It was erotic, it was unexpected and he wasn't sure how to deal with it other than gasp for breath and groan each time the hare squeezed his cock in a firm callused paw.
Then he was done, folding the razor away he stood up, stretching to work the kinks out of his muscles from being hunched over, then dropped his boxers, revealing his own hefty pouch and the proud pink bunny cock rearing out of his body above them. He kept his vest on however; the beige cotton clung to his body, showing a hint of the well defined body beneath. It was a subtle reminder that he was not the one in control. The hare had clothing on where as his prisoner had been denied everything "What... what next?" the mink asked, but again the hare was silent. All he did was kneel down, heft his sac and squeezed the large balls inside. There was a moment of pain, a nasty pinching as he tightened the improvised cock ring further, and then he pushed the first of those hefty balls into his muzzle and rested it between his buck teeth.
The mink's breath caught, and for a split second he met his captor's eyes. He had time to choke out a single, "No!" before the pain hit him. Those powerful buck bunny teeth snapped down, he felt his nut crunch, heard the squish of flesh and felt his cock jerk as he came. Slamming his head back against the trunk of the tree, he screamed wanting it to stop. The pain was beyond anything he had ever felt, the sudden shock of those teeth meeting in the middle, he heard the click as they connected, inside his ball! He barely heard the squelch as the fucker pulled his teeth free; he did react when those teeth brushed over the single, intact mound of his surviving nut.
Staring through vision blurred by tears of pain, gasping for breath, head shaking back and forth in denial he tried to move, tried to pull away. Plastic cords dug into his flesh, he strained and tugged and for a blessed moment thought he felt something give. Then the pressure began, slower this time yet it swiftly built to vice like as those bunny teeth started to squeeze around his nut. Whimpering he tried to speak but couldn't find his voice. And then, to add insult to injury, the hare started to paw at his dick. As the pain increased he felt himself responding to the torment of his remaining ball, it felt good and yet he was terrified of what was about to happen, whimpering he felt his cock twitch, blood and cum spurting out of his dick, it was too much letting out a shuddering scream he came again as those teeth bit down with a sick crunch and a nasty wet pop.
Pulling his teeth free of the second nut, Eugene lay still for a moment panting heavily as he felt the last of his own cum splatter into the loam beneath him. It had felt strangely good doing that to the buff mink, albeit nasty tasting. Spitting on the floor to clear some of the muck he grimaced at the after taste. Maybe he had been gone too far, but hey the guy had clearly had an orgasmic time, right through pleasure and into insensibility. He'd felt the way his cock and nuts twitched and contracted whilst he had his teeth lodged in them. Gargling water from his canteen, he heated his razor with his lighter. Spitting the foul water onto the ground, he took another swig and started gargling again as he finished the job. Slicing off the fuzzy sac, and sawing through the cords that connected the mangled remains of his balls to his body. Once the gruesome object had been sliced clean off, he dumped it out of sight in a bush and dressed the wound with stuff from his stolen first aid kit.
Washing his paws clean with the last of the water from his canteen, he stowed it back in his bag and pulled on his clothes. Zipping up his jacket, the soldier used the mink's knife to slice his arms free, and then hung the blade in the belt sheath he'd also appropriated from his prisoner. Patting the unconscious mink on the head he smiled, "Don't worry, you'll make a fine gelded toy for a real man." Stifling a chuckle he headed off into the trees, moving deeper into the woods. Leaving the scene of his second victory behind him, he focussed on traversing the rest of these woods safely; there were still plenty of other guys on this island who could come between him and victory.
~fin