Juices
#3 of Dark Writing
Juices
By Bunnyboy
This story and the characters in it are copyrighted to Bunnyboy.
Warning the story contains sexual encounters of a nonconcessional nature between an adult male and a male cub. So if your too young or easily offended please go no further. Thank you for reading and please enjoy
The sun was up and you'd expect good little dead cubs to be pretending to sleep, but in the dank cave at the old quarry, things weren't exactly as still as the grave. Some of the dozen or so zombies had taken to staring out at the bright sunshine, remembering way back when they could play on a sunny summers day like today. They knew it wasn't a good idea to go out in daylight, but they so really wanted to play. But even though no one would see them way out here in the old flooded quarry, they still didn't go dare venture outside, because in that bright sunshine they could see themselves and what they had become. Finally, one of the cubs that had been pretending to sleep sat up on his mossy rock. He'd grown bored and seeing several of the others staring into the light made is rise up from his little patch. The fox's broken neck was hanging back, making him stare at the ceiling. With a swipe of one fetid paw, he knocked his head around to face vaguely in the right direction. He marched over and sat with his back to the cave mouth, facing the other cubs. His features were in deep shadow, silhouetted against the bright light so you couldn't see the full extent of the rot but that milky eye still showed.
Dispite what they were now, what had been done to them they were still scared of death. But that wasn't the problem today, with its bright sun shine today they were afraid of life, or what passed for it. That's why they followed the fox kit, he could still talk he could provide the distraction they needed. "All right," he rasped, "I think we all need something to take or minds off things. What about you?" He looked around, seeing that since it was now story time, the other cubs that had been pretending to sleep crawled out to listen. "Once upon a time..."
***
The little mouse was trying to be brave. He tried not to look scared. They always said if you looked scared or lost, bad folk were more likely to pick on you. The little 8-year-old gray mouse looked like he was scared. He was all but trembling out on the mean streets at 3 am. The kid might as well have the word "victim" printed on his back in bright yellow flashing neon. Though the kid didn't need it; he was wearing the type of sneakers that had the built in lights.
The big gruff Saint Bernard follows at a discreet distance, one wary eye on the kid, the other watching his surroundings. That was mostly a formality, unlike the mouse, the dog didn't move like a victim, in fact he moved like a predator on the hunt. Most of the other predators on the street would respect that and give him a wide berth but it never hurts to be careful.
The dog almost chuckles as a snoring drunk startles the boy. The kid looks clean, too clean for this neighbor hood. And his clothes are too nice; must be a runaway. From some well to-do family too, by the looks of it. He ideally wonders what it was that caused the kid to run away. Did mommy refuse to get him that game cub he wanted, or maybe he got punished for doing something stupid. It doesn't matter really, it's not the hows and whys since he's already here, but it's a fun to daydream.
The big Saint Bernard follows the furtive little boy at a sedate pace, eyeing the other street monsters, letting them know that this is his prey, his meat. A few of the others eye the lad but they don't do anything. The dog has a reputation and doesn't take kindly to poachers, but it gives him an idea. He fishes around in his pocket and flicks open his cell, it's a disposable model, and he paid in cash, so nothing can be tracked to him. He grins as a thumb flicks over the buttons, issuing a quick summons.
Not twenty minutes later, two teenaged thugs come up the street. Minor crooks, low level dealers, but they have worked with him before. With an almost imperceptible nod, they acknowledge him and ask if he's ready. He grins widely at the thought. Is he ready? Damn, he was ready an hour ago. He nods back slowly, gesturing to the boy half a block in front of him.
The two teens, one a chubby tusked warthog wearing dirty torn jeans and a stained sweat shirt with a watch cap tugged down on his head, and his partner, some breed of scrawny, striped African ferret dressed in better quality jeans and a gray hoodie, hesitate for just a moment, seeing the boy. But they know they want to stay on the big dogs good side, and that means playing ball. They swagger a bit, advancing on the boy. The little mouse flinches as the two teens get close, and, sensing weakness, they move in even closer. The smelly hog advances on the boy, his bulky mix of muscle and fat herding the boy till his back is to the wall of one of the tall buildings. Though he towers over the boy, it's the little ferrety guy that moves in closest.
"Say, isn't it a little late for you to be out, kid?" He's all smiles as he talks, "Won't your parents be worried about you?"
At the mention of his parents, the little mouse's spine seems to stiffen. "Good, I hope they do. It'd serve them right," says the boy as a flash of prepubescent anger scuttles across his face. But with that said, the boy whimpers again, gripping his backpack in his paws like it's a shield.
"Ahh, a runaway," charms the teen. "So where were we? Don't worry, we can show you the ropes. Best places to sleep, where to get some grub, hell, we could even show you how to make some good cash."
The warthog snorts, "what'd ya do, kid?" The ferrety guy gives him a glare, trying to remind him who's in charge.
The boy kicks at a stone, looking sheepish. "Something bad. But I don't wanna talk about it." He licks his lips, "It was realy bad," He lowers the backpack now that the two strangers don't seem scary.
"Good. We don't wanna hear about it," snaps the leader as his little whipcord arms lash out, grabbing the backpack, snatching it from the boy once the kid has let his guard down. The warthog reaches down and pushes the kid back into the wall hard.
"Hey what... oomph," starts the kid as surprise falls away.
The quick one reaches into his coat and pulls out a knife. It's a cheap knife that's meant to look impressive; knuckle guards and a saw toothed pattern on the back of the blade. But even though it's cheap steal, the kid doesn't know that. Besides, it'll still cut. He waves the knife back and forth in front of the boy's nose. "Now none of that noise. You wanna stay uncut, then you gotta keep quiet." He turns his attention to the boy's pack. "Lets see what Santa brought me." He fumbles around looking for what a little snot might decide he couldn't live with out," Ohh, nice, kid had one of those fancy touch phones, you know the ones that play movies and stuff. And a mp3 player, and a game cub. Yeah man we can make some serious cash on this catch."
The warthog grunts. "Wait, don't those phone things got some sorta locator shit that the cops can use to find 'em and the owner?"
"Nah. 'sides, we won't have them long anyway. We hit Mike's and trade 'em in for some nice untraceable green-backs."
"But..." insists the hog.
"Look, who's the brains in this outfit?" snaps the little man, gesturing at the other with his knife.
"Uh..." stammers the big brown boar.
"My point exactly," says the scrawny teen, pointing at the kid again with the knife. "Now, give me your shoes."
The warthog looks at the kid's feet. "They're so little. They'll never fit"
The ferrety guy rolls his eyes. "Not for me, you idiot. Those damn things are worth money." The mouse looks around panicked, and when he doesn't comply quickly enough, a fist catches him in the gut, bringing the boy to his knees and knocking the wind from him. "I said lose the fucking shoes." The boy tries to fumble for his laces, still sputtering and coughing. "Hurry the fuck up or I'll cut them off at the ankle." He kicks the boy hard just as the right show comes free, the boy whining loudly.
"Leave the kid alone," comes a low growl. Its from the Saint Bernard. He's a tall man. Early thirties, late twenties; it's hard to tell. He wears camo-patterned pants; the dark greens and browns blended with the blacks well. Under his jean jacket is a red shirt of some sort. In one hand is a folding knife; it's nothing fancy, just five inches of razored steel. His other hand reaches for the cub and hauling him up to his now mismatched feet.
The two teens seem to hesitate. Sure they out number him, but the dog is big and strong, plus that knife has seen some use. They could take him... maybe... well probably not, and it was a good thing they didn't have to. They were just here to make it look good to put on a show make the kid think the dog was his super hero and as a cut out if the cops ever come looking for a story. They got their payment in the kids bag, it's time to bug out.
The big dog runs off, pulling the little mouse boy along behind him. The two quickly disappear down the alley. The tan furred teen puts his knife away and kicks the single shoe that had been left behind.
The warthog looks down at it, "maybe we could get something for the one shoe?"
"What are kidding me? That thing was worthless it's to small, even if we had both. I just said that to give the dog his chance. Now common, we gotta pawn this stuff now." He hefts the bag and heads back the way they came, already putting the kid out of his mind. It wasn't stealing, really. The kid won't need any of this stuff anymore.
They run down the alleys and side streets, the dog leading and the little mouse boy being hauled behind him. " We gotta move, we gotta go faster. They could still catch us any moment."
They twist and turn seemingly at random, the course changes happening so fast the little boy just can't seem to wrap his head around it. One filthy street starts to look like any other. He does notice the further they go, the darker it seems, and the fewer streetlights are working. Finally, the man pulls them into an alley, this one, however, dead-ends a few yards away. They both seem to be out of breath as the dog slumps down, sitting behind the dumpster. "Its okay, I think we lost them. " He huffs and puffs trying to catch his breath. "Do you know where we are kid? Maybe I can get you home. This is no place for you. Do you know how to get home?" Using the wall for support, the big dog climbs to his feet and smiles as the little mouse cub shakes his head. "Good," he growls down at the boy looming over him.
The little cub tries to scramble to his feet. He trembles clearly frightened under the big dogs, hungery gaze. He takes a tentative step back, and then another, and it isn't until that moment that it dawns on him: The big dog is between him and the mouth of the alleyway. there is nothing but a brick wall behind him. He's trapped.
It's that moment that the big Saint Bernard was waiting for. He knew it was coming; the look of utter despair when the prey realizes there is no way out. "Ohh you poor, poor little boy." He's not crying yet, but that's just because he has no idea what he's in for. A hard backhanded blow sends the slender mouse sprawling to the ground, and the dog is on him in a flash. A hand to the boy's back presses him down to the ground, as the other fumbles for the back of the brat's pants. "I feel you should know, I set it all up, boy. Those two thugs work for me. I needed a reason to get you off the streets. They fear me there, but If they knew what I was really up to, some one might get brave, and I couldn't have that." The boy's crying now, though from the slap or the emotional trauma who knows, and who the hell cares. He unbuttons his fly, letting his 7-inch doggy schlong bob forward. He covers the boy with his body as he guides his rod towards that new virgin mouse hole. As he starts to press in, both paws move to the little bubble butt, gripping it firmly as he pushes in, glorying in the feeling.
The boy's squeal of pain, as the massive man violates him, is loud and shrill. It sounds like it hurts so much, that red wedge of meat invading him, pressing deeply into his tender anus. He claws at the ground, trying to get away, but the adult is too big and too strong; there is nothing he can do.
The dog pants loudly. You'd think he'd be worried about the noise, but he's not. Once his cock is as deep as friction will allow, he leans into the boy.. "Feel free to make all the noise you want, brat. No one's here to hear you. And I love it; it's like a wonderful melody. " He pulls back quickly before thrusting forward, driving it deeper with each thrust. Working with out lube made for a slower start, but it sure made the build up more fun. "And on that note, lets make some music." He almost howls as he pushes on, lost in sensation of the vise round his cock and distorted echoes. The alley way bounces the sound back, mingling the pained whimpers with the lusty grunts and that meaty slap of flesh on flesh.
The cub whines as he feels the adult pushing in deeper and deeper. He yells for his mommy, but his own reply is the mocking echoes that fill the small alley.
Above the little mouse, the big dog groans. He can feel his knot starting to press into that no longer innocent anus. One paw grips the base of the mouse's tail, roughly tugging him backward, pulling him hard onto the swelling ball of flesh. Below him the boy screams, feeling the knot starting to stretch him even wider. With a grin, the other massive hand yanks on the mouse's hair, pulling him up. "Now that's real music. Scream for me bitch. Make it louder; I want to hear just how it feels when I finally shove this big fat knot into you, because there is more coming, little boy. A whole lot more." He shoves the boy's head back down, uncaring that he's bloodied the lads nose. His hand slips down and gives one more sharp tug on the tail before he lets loose. His hips slam into the boy's tiny frame, slamming the knot hard against the far too small hole. The boy howls; it's a sound you wouldn't have thought a mouse could make, but through it all he never stops screaming, almost like he'd forgot to take a breath. It takes four more hard thrusts before he forces his knot into the shuddering little figure hunched below him, and goddamn does it feel good. With a sigh of purest bliss, the dog relaxes. All life's many stresses flowing out of him and into the traumatized little body beneath him in shuddering spurts of sticky seed.
The mouse just trembles. He'd screamed himself raw and his breathing came in ragged gasps. He coughs, and sobs, tears streaming down his face as he blubbers into paved streets.
The dog's breathing slows down again, his hand slips into his pocket, fingering his folded jack knife. Normally at this point he'd slit the brats throat and sling him in the dumpster, but this boy was a screamer. Goddamn he had a good set of pipes. Just remembering the sound was keeping the pump primed. His hand grips the boy's butt and pushes. The big fat knot tearing free with a sick splattering of cum and blood from the tortured little tail hole. The dog stands up before pulling the lad back up to his feet by a fist full of his t-shirt. He shoves the boy back into the brick wall. "Well, my lad, looks like the fun isn't over yet. I'm still raring and ready to go." He gestures at the bright red cock that is still dribbling cum in thick gooey pulses. "So you have to take care of it. I want you to open that pretty little pie hole you have there and suck down my meaty sausage. Your going to do it too. You're going to want to do it as well, because if you refuse, I'm gonna fuck that cute little face like I did your ass. But that won't be as satisfying, or as much fun. And if it doesn't satisfy me, I might just have another go at your ass. Only this time I won't be quiet so gentle." He leans in, smearing cum across the little mouse's muzzle.
The boy whimpers, his face showing that he doesn't want to be taken like that again. He reaches out his paws to touch the man, his lips parting as he leans in. He pauses when he hears a loud click.
A hand passes the now open knife in front of the mouse's face. "Ohh by the way, if you were thinking you could just sink those pearly whites into me, the second I feel teeth, I'm gonna stick this blade into your ear. I'll fillet your brains, boy. I wouldn't hesitate for a second." He feels the breath on his member, hot and harsh. He sighs, feeling those warm lips tentatively touch the tip. The boy might be hesitant at first but the dog knows the rodent will do it. He still thinks he's got a chance to get out of this and back home to mommy. The idiot. Once he'd fired his last load, the brat was dead. Hell, it might be fun to kill him as he climaxed; to fill the boy's gullet even as the mouse's death rattle runs up his cock. Yeah, that's what he'd do. With a moan, he feels his length drawn in deeper to the boy. The lips and tongue surprisingly talented as he suckles. Thoughts of murder drop from the forefront of the big dogs mind and he slumps forward using the wall to keep him upright as his knees go weak. Damn, this boy is good. He moans loudly at the thought as he looks down at the boy, startled to see just how much the little mouse had taken in. There is no bobbing back and forth of the lad's muzzle, just a strong steady suction combined with a milking motion of the lad's throat as he tries to swallow. The dog was already close, and he could feel the boy's lips brush his knot now. The dog starts to panic. Through the haze of pleasure, the predator in him can feel it; something's wrong. A small hand reaches up into the man's boxers and fondles the very ample nut sack as it gets ready to boil over. The Saint Bernard gasps, feeling the climax building impossibly soon. This isn't right, he's in control. It's not supposed to be like this. He howls as his cock pulses once again, the tight muscles milking him for every drop. His panic falls away, not sure what had come over him. The boy was just a natural cock sucker. It's going to be a shame, too...
Icy panic seizes his mind as in an instant of clarity, he realizes the boy is still sucking. There is no way he could have taken a breath around the dogs maleness, for at least five minutes, but he's still sucking. He looks down to see the boy's mouth open as wide as he can to take, not just the dog's cock, but also the knot into his mouth. And then he felt the pain. Not the shearing tearing pain of a bite, but rather two sharp jabs like nails driven into the meat of his sex. He screams and brings the knife down towards the mouse's brain, not thinking, only wanting the pain to stop. A little gray paw flashes up impossibly quick, the tiny little hand catching him by the wrist, stopping him dead. With a twist, there is a snap and something breaks, causing the knife to clatter to the ground from lifeless fingers. The dog slumps to his knees as the boy some how moves bonelessly, collapsing down so that his mouth stays firmly attached, and the dog can feel it alternating pulses, first from the mouse's throat, and then from the galaxies of agony radiating from his knot. He knows he should be doing something, but oh god it hurts, and some how he's so weak. He looks down at the boy. It's not right. He's not supposed to be weak. He's strong. He wants to lift his good arm and smash the little bastard's skull in, but his arm, it's just so heavy. It takes him a moment to realize the pressure's stopped. The pain's still there but it's a dull background ache now. The little mouse straightens up before the dog is finally at eye level, and what the big man sees terrifies him in ways he hadn't felt were possible. The innocent little mouse's lips are pulled back in a wicked smirk, failing to hide the needle like fangs that were still drawing back to hide behind the normal teeth. The eyes glowing a deep angry red.
He smiles into the man's eyes, wanting him to know everything that happened; how he was played from the start. Sure the dog had been a predator on these streets for years now, but the mouse had been one for centuries. He glances back at the dog, still upright some how, too weak to move anything but his eyes. The mouse grins wickedly. He likes to leave them alive just long enough to really suffer. They have to know utterly how badly they have lost. And then they can die.
The mouse fishes into the dog's pocket and finds the cell phone. His grin is wide and cruel as dials the last number used. He clears his throat before he hits send, "Hey fuckwit." He looks right into the eyes of his would be conquer, as he talks into the phone with the mongrels own voice. "You pawned that brat's stuff yet? Good bring it here, you were over paid so to call it square I need a favor." He smiles into not quite dead mans eyes. "Bring me two gallons of kerosene, I've got a little mess to clean up. and hurry up after what I've done to the boy you won't want the police to see these photos of you and him, and your knife." They'll come, he knows they will the omega always obey the alpha, he rattles off the street and location of the alley before hanging up the phone.
"Isn't this fun Mr. Dog sir?" he giggles as he picks up the mans knife. "Oh it might not be fun for you, but that was never the point. I'm sure when it was your turn to have all the fun none of the little ones were very entertained either. But that was then and this is now. When your friends get here I might let you stop playing. The skinny one I'll beat seven shades of shit out of him, but I'll leave him alive. The other one lets say only three, maybe four shades from him. But that wont be for a long time, they said it might take as long as fifteen minutes." He holds the mans own knife with its razor-ed edge. "Lets see what games we can think of while we wait. I know a lot of games and I know how to make them last." He giggles then, nothing of the monster in that sound, just a cub giggling at his own private joke. "I mean the kerosene won't be any use if your not here for the bonfire."
***
"The End," says the fox as around him the cave is dark again, the light long gone and the shuffling forms mill about. There are general mutters of approval at the story. Some wonder if there was meant to be a moral. Others are just happy for the distraction as the moon rises and they get ready to move on once more.