FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The sun had not yet risen, but for Ban the day had well and truly begun. He lay on his stomach, clutching his pillow and sobbing out the pain from his well-spanked backside. He knew for certain he was in for weeks of misery, and that only made him cry all the harder. "[We are forged of blood and iron, yet none of us are made perfect.]" Frost rose from the boy's side, returning the paddle to its proper place. "[We must be tempered, shaped and refined into worthy men. It is not always easy, and for you it will be far harder than most, but know that all of this is for your own benefit.]" Shakily, Ban pushed himself up onto his elbows. He turned, wet-eyed and trembling, toward his father. "[Was t-that supposed to make m-me feel better?]" "[I've always found comfort in scripture,]" Frost answered. With a huff, Ban dropped back into his pillow. "[No gods ever helped me.]" "[Don't dismiss the divine so hastily.]" Frost replied, shifting into Panglish after a moment's pause. "Nothing happens by chance, lad. I don't believe fate brought you to us by coincidence. I have a part to play in your tale, as you have in mine. Be patient; understanding will come in time." Wiping tears onto his pillow, Ban rose once more to find his father picking out clothes for school. "I don't wanna' go t'school," he whimpered. "You have to, Ban." Frost answered "Please, Frost?" the boy gave his father a puppy-dog look. "I don't want to go! Miss Roughsedge will..." Frost gave his son a sympathetic look, but only for a moment. "She will punish you, Ban. She has every right to." "But-" "Enough." The Nightsider cut him off sharply. "Now come here and let me dress you." The boy obeyed. He stood in the grip of a full-body sulk that began with his flattened ears and ending at the tip of his tail, which was pressed flat against his legs. Perhaps because of that, his father seemed to be a little rougher than usual in dressing him, particularly as he yanked up the boy's underwear and pants. The well-spanked Penny yelped as the fabric was drawn roughly over his tender backside. Worst of all, however, was the lecture. It was delivered throughout the dressing in a low, smouldering tone. "You have no idea how disappointed I am in you, Ban. I tried to be fair with you, more than fair, in fact. I gave you perks and privileges you would never have been given by anyone else, and I did it because I believed that you would respond favourably to acts of kindness. Instead, you chose to throw it back in my face, and all you can think about is trying to beg and plead your way out of punishment. Did you ever stop and think your actions might have consequences for your mother and I?" "I thought not," Frost finished when Ban outright refused to meet his eye. "Well you can be sure I won't make that mistake again. From now on you'll be getting a lot less carrot, and a lot more stick!"

Yuin did not give her son much for breakfast, which was fine by Ban because he didn't want to eat anything. In the end his mother warmed his backside once more for his disobedience, baring his rear and delivering half a dozen hand spanks right there in the kitchen. "If you're going to behave like an infant, then so be it." She said matter-of-factly, sitting the boy on his punishment stool and securing him. Once he'd had a chance to adjust to the sting of the hard wooden seat, she spoon-fed him the unwanted breakfast. "Time to get you to school," she announced when he'd finished, setting the boy back on his feet and readjusting his clothing. Ban reluctantly took his mother's hand. The idea of being put through hell by Miss Roughsedge was making his heart hammer in his chest. Worst of all, he felt helpless; his parents didn't believe him, or didn't care. Subconsciously, his free hand drifted to his mouth and he began sucking on his thumb. He gave his father one last, terrified look, but saw no sympathy in his eyes. He let his gaze drift down to the symbols on Frost's chest. There was the Gelmyrc, a symbol of family; the Akyuul'ar, the symbol of the Fire Serpent; the Daulhr, three crossed roads representing the convergence of fate. His heart jumped into his chest. "Mom... Dad..." It was barely more than a trembling whisper, but it was the first time Ban had called his parents mom and dad. It got their attention. "Please don't make me go. You don't know what she's like... she'll really hurt me, I know it!" "Are you suggesting your headmistress will mistreat you?" Yuin asked softly. Ban nodded hesitantly. "She... she did before. She said nobody would believe me if I told them." Both parents looked at one another, but the doubt was clear in their eyes. "I swear I'm telling the truth!" Ban added, fearful of their disbelief. "I swear I am! I swear on my life, and all I hold dear!" Yuin gently stroked her son's head. Frost seemed uncertain, but kept quiet. "Come," Yuin said. "It's time for you to go to school." Ban hung his head, dejected and defeated. They didn't believe him; the bitch had been right.

* * *

Jas seemed, to his mother, to be unusually tetchy on the way to school. Vaahn, on the other hand, was outright cheerful. He even whistled as they walked which, if she'd thought about it, Chloe would have recognised as the cause of Jas' irritation. "By mom!" the boys called as she parted ways with them. They encountered Becci almost immediately, who gave a cheerful wave. Vaahn's whistle briefly became that much louder, until Jas poked him in the ribs. "Hey guys!" Rebecca said as she fell into step with them. "I had a great time on Saturday." "Me too," Jas answered. Vaahn just smiled. "I don't believe I did ask you what you got up to, did I?" "No you didn't," Jas said, his tone making it clear he did not want the conversation to come up now. Becci fielded the question in a much more light-hearted way. "I will have you know we were as good as gold." "He's that good in bed then, is he?" Vaahn chuckled, savouring the blush that quickly formed on Jas' face. Rebecca saw it too, and the imp of mischief jumped onto her shoulders. "Oh, Vaahn! The things he can do with that tongue of his!" She gave a theatrical shiver. "I know all about his tongue, don't you worry!" Jas looked from one Penny to the other, and then resorted to hiding behind his hands. Unfortunately, that did nothing to stop the giggling. "Oh come on, leave me alone!" To his surprise, Becci gave him a quick, affectionate hug. "Aww, we're just teasing! We didn't mean to make you feel bad." "It's your own fault anyway," Vaahn added, "you're cute when you're embarrassed." "He's cute full stop," Rebecca added as she broke the hug, briefly meeting the boy's eye and giving him a friendly smile.

They soon caught up with Jackie, who viewed their happy-go-lucky attitude with deep suspicion. "It's Monday, we're in school, and you're all grinning like idiots. What's wrong with this picture?" "I love you too, Jackie." Vaahn countered, making a face. "We just had a good weekend, that's all." "Glad some of us did," Jackie responded. When she turned around Becci mouthed 'grounded again?' and shook her head in dismay. As they headed into class, Vaahn paused in the doorway, looking down the corridor to the unfamiliar site of a parent walking the halls. It was Yuin; Kyyreni stood out easily at the best of times. Ban was with her, sulking as she escorted him to his classroom. "Something wrong?" Jas asked. "No," Vaahn answered, giving the younger Kyyreni boy a sympathetic look. "I just have the feeling Ban's going to have a really bad day."

* * *

There was a chicken on the table, and it wasn't long dead. The arrival of the bird had helped take Frost's mind of his son for a little while, and he'd made small talk with the young man who'd brought the caged bird to him. He'd paid in cash, brought the chicken into the shed at the end of the garden, and made sure he had everything he needed before breaking its neck. He liked working with fresh meat. It was a part of his younger days that had never gone away. He could still remember the smell and taste of boiling blubber, which had been a part of so many meals. He remembered gutting and de-boning all manner of fish and sea mammals, and his father had always said he had a talent for getting rid of the really tiny bones. It hadn't been fun work, but it had been necessary. Now he stood with blades and bins and plastic bags, ready to drain and skin his chicken. He'd done it before; he'd visited the farm specifically to learn how. The bird had lived a good life, by chicken standards, and there was a couple of days worth of meals to be made out of it; it felt wrong to be wasteful with food that had been prepared by hand.

The bird had been strung up to drain when a buzzer sounded, indicating someone was at the front door. "Typical," Frost sighed, leaving the shed and locking it behind him. There were three locks on the door to ensure no curious Penny could force their way inside. He abandoned his gloves and boots as he passed through the kitchen, and opened the door as the doorbell rang for a second time. "Can I help you?" The question was directed primarily at the police officer, though it was answered by the short, middle-aged man in a business suit. "Mr Frost? I'm here on behalf of-" "I know who you're here on behalf of," Frost cut in. "You're earlier than I expected. Come on, please." The two visitors were brought into the living room and made comfortable. "Can I get you something to drink?" "Coffee, please." The man in the suit replied. "We've no milk." "Ah... never mind then." Both he and the police officer watched wordlessly as Frost went into the kitchen and returned with a glass of clear spirit. The Nightsider settled himself into an armchair and smiled at his guests, who reacted as most people do when smiled at by something overtly predatory. "Do you drink often?" The suit asked. "Every day." Frost's reply was punctuated with a sip from his glass. "I didn't catch your name, sir." A datapad was produced and activated. Frost smiled at its owner. "My name is Mark. Mark MacDonald." "And how is Donald?" "I'm sorry?" Frost smiled again, just because Mark didn't seem to like it. "Your father, Donald, how is he?" "I... my father's name is William," Mark replied. "MacDonald is my surname." The bureaucrat had clearly lost his train of thought. "I am required to inform you that this is an informal review. My being here is not an indication of fault on your part, nor should it be assumed that we, err, assume fault on your part. Is your wife home?" "She is at the school. Our son has made... troubling accusations regarding the headmistress." "What kind of-" Mark began, but the smile was getting in the way. "I would like to focus on the matter at hand, if you don't mind. I know exactly why you are here, and what is expected of me. I also have a chicken in need of de-feathering, so I really would like to get on with it." "De-feathering?" "Yes. Chickens have feathers, and you have to take them off before you eat them." This information was imparted very slowly, with carefully enunciated words and precisely chosen stresses. If Mark had feathers, they would have been ruffled. "You have a live chicken in the house?" "Had; it's dead now." "And you are going to cook it before eating it, yes?" Mark MacDonald would have had to travel a very long way, perhaps into the void between galaxies, billions of miles from any star, to find anything colder than Frost's stare at that moment. "To the, umm, matter at hand..." Mark deliberately kept his gaze fixed on his datapad. "At what time did your boy escape?" "He made the attempt around nine o'clock," Frost replied matter-of-factly. "And where was he?" "He should have been in the living room with Vaahn. You know who Vaahn is, I take it?" "Yes," Mark said with a nod. "When you say 'should have been', does that mean he was unsupervised?" "Yes." "And where were you?" "Upstairs. I was having sex with my wife when he got out." The Kyyreni noted Mark and the escorting officer both shifted slightly, as if the mention of sex made them uncomfortable, or possibly piqued their interest. Mark tapped the pad's keys as he spoke. "Why did you not contact the council?" "I wasn't aware I needed to ask their permission to shag my wife." The corner of the officer's mouth twitched a fraction. "I... ahem, I meant regarding Ban's escape." "He didn't escape," Frost countered. "He attempted escape. I brought him back. The Council does not need to be informed of an attempt to flee, beyond mention of the attempt in the next routine parental report." "Given how far away Ban was, I would say that counts as a successful escape." Frost smiled again to annoy the bureaucrat. "And yet he slept in his own bed that night."

The back and forth continued for some time, with Frost becoming increasingly annoyed with the visitor as time went on. It was not that he resented being questioned, but it was the clear lack of understanding the man displayed. The subject of drink, for example, served only to cement the opinion in Frost's head that Mark had little clue how to do his own job. "You let your son drink?" Mark asked shocked at the most recent revelation. "No, I permit him to drink under supervision. I find it works well as a form of positive reinforcement." Aghast, Mark replied, "You are aware it is illegal to give alcohol to a Penitatas?" "No it is not." Frost returned bluntly. "It is illegal for a child, Kindern or Rejuve, to be served alcohol by a bar or restaurant, or for alcohol to be sold to a Kindern or Rejuve, until said individual is at or over the age of eighteen. Nor may any individual purchase alcohol on behalf of the aforementioned; that is the law. There is no law restricting the consumption of alcohol in the home, nor is there any ruling within the Penitatas Parenting Guidelines that states a Penitatas may not be given alcohol within the home. What you refer to is a cultural norm, one I have no intention of upholding." The speech had left Mark on the back foot. Dealing with Frost had taken its toll on him; the Kyyreni had a way of springing from puppy-dog innocence to bestial aggression and back again so quickly it was impossible to tell what he was going to say or do next. It was the smile, like a dog that's about to bite. Body language did not always translate well between species. "I shall make a note of that," the man conceded, and did so. "I... I think we have covered everything. Thank you for your time, Mr Frost... and do remind your wife we will need to speak to her as well."

The guests were escorted out as quickly as politeness allowed, and Frost made a point of locking the door behind them. "By the gods, I hate book-men." He returned to preparing his bird, letting his mind clear and finding peace in the task of preparing meat for the table. It took a long time, but the end product was a thing of beauty; a plump chicken that would have been welcome in any poultry seller's window. No sooner had he placed the bird into the freezer did the phone ring. Frost answered the call, which lasted less than a minute, and his good mood was destroyed in an instant.

* * *

For Joe Brindley, the idea of a beautiful woman waiting for him in his office was a private fantasy that, sadly, never seemed to come true. That day was the closest it had ever come to being real. "Oh, umm... can I help you?" the question was directed at an ash-grey Kyyreni, a female as far as Joe could tell. She was stood in the middle of his office with her arms folded across her chest. "About time," she said sharply. "I need to talk to you about my son, Ban." "Oh, you must be... Yuin?" Joe asked, moving around to sit at his desk. Yuin didn't bother to confirm her identity. "Ban has made a serious accusation regarding the headmistress, Miss Roughsedge. He claims she has mistreated him; specifically, that she beat him beyond what is permitted by law. He said that he was told nobody would believe him if he spoke out against his treatment." Joe gave the woman a sympathetic smile and gestured for her to take a seat, which she did not do. "I'm sure you're aware how common accusations of mistreatment are from Penitatas, particularly in their early cycles-" "I've read the statistics," Yuin cut in. "But something doesn't add up. My son was making progress; his Panglish has improved dramatically and he seems happy enough at home, but he protests coming to school. I hear it day after day, and every time he gets in trouble, wherever and whatever that trouble may be, his first reaction is to beg not to be sent to school." Now she leaned forward, placing her hands on the desk and fixing Joe with a stare that pinned him to the chair. "I want to know why, Mr Brindley. I want to know what is happening here that has my son so distraught. I need to know, beyond any doubt, that his accusations against Miss Roughsedge are false." Joe tried to look sympathetic. It was easy enough; he had the right face for it. Slowly, Yuin retreated from his personal space. "I can see you are very concerned about this, Ma'am, but I-" he paused, his mind clicking to the countless meetings with Vaahn, and the Kyyreni boy's long-standing hatred of his headmistress. "A moment, please?" He checked the files, finding what he already knew would be there; repeated accusations of mistreatment from back in his early years. They occurred again once or twice, usually during times when Vaahn felt more trusting of his counsellor. Accusations like these were indeed common, but it seemed strange for them to happen even after twenty years or more... "I think we should speak with the nursing staff," he said carefully. "Would you come with me?" "You have something?" "I... I don't know. Another boy, a Kyyreni like Ban, has claimed to have been mistreated as well. It seems strange they'd both make the same accusation. Come with me." "Alright, but first I'm going to get my son." Yuin's tone would not permit questioning. "I will bring him to the nurse's office."

* * *

Ban hadn't had time to login to his desk's terminal before being summoned to the head of the class. His teacher had told him to report to the headmistress at once and, when the boy refused to go of his own accord, had escorted him there. He was crying when he entered, seeing the scorn on the old woman's face. "It seems your kind never learns," she said once their privacy was assured. "You tried to run away! Did you honestly think it would work? Did you think you could just run and hide from the punishment you deserve?" She moved quickly, grabbing Ban by the arm and dragging him to her desk. His pants were dropped and he was lifted into place, perched over the edge of the faux-wood desktop and pinned in place for a thrashing. "You are going to learn the hard way that trying to run away only makes things worse!" The scolding was immediately followed by the swish and crack of the dreaded cane; the signature tool of discipline employed by Miss Roughsedge. It was thicker and heavier than anything a parent was licensed to use on a child, which is part of what made trips to the headmistress' office so terrifying. The cane cracked against Ban's backside just below the base of his tail, making him squeal in shock. It wasn't until the second stroke that the pain really kicked in, and at once he began sobbing in earnest. "You deserve everything you get!" The woman scolded, bringing the cane down again and again. The boy's fur did little to cushion the impact - the sharp CRACK as it connected against his rear echoed through the room. The pace was terrifying; each swing left a burning welt right across both cheeks, and new ones were being applied at a rate of one a second. Miss Roughsedge had years of experience in making Penitatas suffer; she coated the boy's rear in burning welts, then began to strike his rear diagonally, planting the new strokes over multiple older ones. Ban's screaming redoubled when that happened. As if encouraged by his wails of pain, the verbal debasement resumed. "You are a wretched, evil little child!" CRACK! SMACK! THWACK! "You are going to learn the hard way that monsters like you are not welcome in society! You will change your ways, whether you want to or not! You will pay for all those people you hurt, and all those lives you ruined!" At 'ruined', the headmistress landed her hardest blow yet. It was a hell of a strike, carried out with raw fury. It struck right across the centre of Ban's rear, where his cheeks were already turning purple under the fury of her caning. For a moment the boy stopped breathing altogether, struck breathless by the sheer agony coursing through him. Then he screamed again, fighting and squirming helplessly to escape. It was more pain than he could take. A second such blow landed, followed by a third. He could barely find enough breath to cry as three much such blows landed, and the teacher finally paused to let him recover.

Her arm was aching from the force she'd put into the spanking. Esarina Roughsedge placed the cane down carefully and went to her desk, drawing out a hand-held medical lathe. Ban didn't move; he hadn't the strength to do so. He didn't even raise his head from the tear-stained desk as the headmistress stepped back around behind him. "Don't think this is done out of kindness, Boy," she scolded once more, holding the lathe up to the boy's backside. There was blood seeping into his fur where the most furious blows had landed. She worked the lathe over the wound to seal it, and then moved outward to tend his whole backside. The lathe worked far more efficiently than nano-lotion; in minutes, his backside looked un-spanked. "There; now we can begin again." The words made Ban sob once more. She returned to her desk to retrieve a defolicator, and once more held the boy in place as his fighting resumed. Slowly, patiently, she purged the fur from his rear, leaving his pale backside utterly exposed and ready for further punishment. "I think a sound blistering is exactly what you need!" she announced. Ban's howling quickly began anew as this new hell was unleashed. The 'bumblebee' paddle was not intended for boys as young as Ban, though this was a face that seemed not to concern the woman spanking him. The sharp CRACK of the paddle briefly drowned out Ban's cries, but after half a dozen swats nothing could have rivalled the shrieking coming from the red-faced, and increasingly red-bottomed little boy.

The door was knocked on so hard it shook on its hinges. The spanking halted at once as Miss Roughsedge was caught off guard. She recovered quickly, picking up the medical lathe and tossing it back into her drawer. Then, and only then, did she open the door. "I'm here for my son," the Kyyreni female on the other side of the door announced. "I am in the middle of disciplining him," the headmistress replied. This fact clearly meant nothing to Yuin. "He's coming with me now." One look at her son told him he was hurting. She lifted him up onto her shoulder, cradling him as best she could whilst putting the minimum weight on his rear. "If I see fit, I'll return him. For your sake, I had better see fit..."

Minutes later, Ban was face down on an examination table. The nurse, under the furious supervision of Yuin, ran a medical scanner over the child. "He seems fine," she said defensively. "He's obviously stressed right now, but he was receiving a blistering. That's quite normal for- wait..." she stopped sharply as the scanner passed over Ban's backside. "I'm detecting active nanobots in his skin. They're not consistent with nano-lotion units either; they're more like what you find in a first aid unit." "Active? How active?" The nurse gave Yuin and Joe both a concerned look. "They were applied within the last hour." "Call the police." Yuin ordered. "I want this information recorded! By the gods, Ban was telling the truth!" At that, Ban lifted his head a fraction, looking toward his mother. She knelt down and took his hand. "Ban... I am so very, very sorry..." The boy remained silent, instead choosing to scowl at his parent. He was torn inside, unsure whether to hate her for her doubt, or to be thankful that she finally came to his aid. Slowly, the anger in his face faded; he was too hurt and too tired to keep it up for long. "I think under the circumstances we can withhold and further discipline," Joe said. "I agree," Yuin replied. "I'm going to keep an eye on that woman. Ban, wait here."

The office, when Yuin returned, was empty. The nursery cane was missing, as was the medical lathe. Yuin's heart began to beat fiercely in her chest. She scanned the hall for clues as to where the rogue teacher had gone, but there was nothing she could go on. She tried to put herself in the woman's mind; where would she go? Her car was what sprang to mind; running from the scene of the crime was the most obvious reaction. She ran through the corridors, barging through the main doors when she reached them and heading for where the staff parked their hover cars. There were no pre-marked bays here; people just parked where there was a free space. There was no sign of anyone around. "Gods damn her!" Yuin swore, stamping her foot in frustration. Enraged at her own stupidity for letting the hated woman sneak off, she resigned herself to doing the only thing she could; being there for her son. Minutes went by, and her anger grew once more. Now it was focused on the nurse, whom she subjected to an enraged growl as she returned to the nurse's office. "I thought you called the police!" "I did!" she insisted. "I thought they'd be here by now!" It took another ten minutes for the police to arrive, but when they had good reason for their delay. "Our patrol car was on the way to the school when the onboard computer recognised Miss Roughsedge's car heading away from the scene. Naturally, given the accusations you made we wanted to stop her and get her side of the story." The officer explained. "What happened?" Yuin asked. "She resisted. We chased her halfway across the city before one of our slicers accessed her autopilot and shut the car down. She is now in custody, and we would like you all to accompany us to the station so we can get your version of events." Yuin nodded. "I would like to contact my husband, if that is alright?" "I'd prefer you do that from the station, if you don't mind. It is very important that we gather all the information we need for our investigation as soon as possible."

* * *

The days that followed felt unreal to Vaahn. What exactly had happened was still something of a mystery, as the specific details of Miss Roughsedge's arrest had been kept from the pupils. When he was summoned to act as a witness, he began to form suspicions, though he struggled to believe the truth. It wasn't until he was in court that reality finally began to sink in; the bitch was going to pay. "You okay?" Chloe asked gently as she walked with her son. She'd been sympathetic ever since the episode began, as if she felt guilty for what had happened to him. She's seen her son change, displaying a lot of pent up anger and frustration that he was eager to release. "I'm fine," Vaahn growled, running his claws through the fur on top of his head. It was a habit Chloe did not approve of as it made his head look messy, and she roughly smoothed his fur back down. "Remember to be on your best behaviour," she said firmly. Despite wanting to show sympathy, a Penny at court, for whatever reason, was expected to be perfectly behaved. Matt gave the boy a pat on the shoulder. Jas walked on the other side of him, fidgeting in the manner of someone unaccustomed to wearing formal attire.

They entered the courtroom and took their seats. There were plenty of people present; Yuin and Frost stood out quite clearly. The Johansson family were sat some distance away. A Drakonian judge entered and made herself comfortable in her seat, glancing around the courtroom for a moment before banging the traditional gavel. "Bring in the accused." Accused. Vaahn let a humourless smile play across his lips at that. He had been the 'accused' once; he'd been accused with such conviction that they saw fit to declare him guilty and skip the trial altogether. Now Esarina Roughsedge was 'accused' of crimes for which she had almost certainly been proven guilty beyond a shadow of a doubt. He couldn't help but wonder just why they insisted on this pantomime. Momentarily lost in his own little world, he'd tuned out of the opening proceedings. He focused back in time to see his former Headmistress standing in the dock, shocked and outraged in equal measure as a solicitor strutted around the room like a rooster in a hen farm, reeling off her crimes. "Just how long has this been going on?" He demanded, but didn't wait for an answer. "Nearly thirty years, from what we've been told. What made you think you had the right to do that, Miss Roughsedge? What makes you think you can violate Council-mandate and punish a child beyond safe tolerances?" "I did no such thing!" the accused replied. "Then can you explain why you felt the need to employ a medical device on one of your pupils? Surely if he was spanked within approved limits then a dose of nano-lotion would have fixed everything?" When the former headmistress failed to reply he carried on. "Forensics found traces of blood on the school cane; enough to confirm that you struck him hard enough to break the skin in multiple places. How many were there, Miss Roughsedge? How many children did you abuse?" "I didn't abuse them!" she cried back, visibly shaking. The judge chose this moment to step in. "Ma'am, perhaps you can give your version of events?"

Her attempts, such as they were, were abysmal. The judge remained quiet and patient, but never let up asking the same awkward questions over and over; the ones the accused simply couldn't answer. In the end, rage took over. "Alright, I did it!" she confessed at last. "I did it because they deserve it!" She turned toward the witnesses. It wasn't hard for her to single Vaahn out and subject him to her finest stare. Miss Roughsedge had stared down killers, but Vaahn had stared down gun barrels; he returned it with twice the intensity. "They are monsters!" the woman continued. "They steal and kill and rape their way across the stars and they're proud of it! They deserve to suffer, the way they make everyone else suffer!" "[Come a little closer and I'll end your suffering!]" Vaahn growled. His parents knew enough Ruljic to know what he'd said, and Chloe gave him a stern word of warning about behaving himself. "And you think that justifies abusing your position and inflicting unlawful harm upon these boys?" The judge asked, keeping her tone calm and controlled. "They'd do far worse to others if given the chance!" "So would many of the humans in your school," the judge put extra emphasis on 'humans'. "Why do they not require... additional punishment?" Another awkward silence followed. "Miss Roughsedge, it is my opinion that your actions are motivated by an irrational hatred for the Kyyreni species, and/or the culture by which many of them choose to live. This constitutes a gross failure on your part; how can these boys possibly learn to respect others, and respect the law, when they are persecuted for something beyond their control - their species, or their place of birth?" "They-" "You are done talking!" The judge snapped. "You were declared guilty long before you entered this court, madam; we are here only to determine the severity of your sentence. Your defence has pushed that these injuries were inflicted accidentally, and that your attempts to conceal them are the result of blind panic - a moment of temporary insanity. I reject that. They also offer the claim that you punished within the guidelines set by the council, and that biological differences resulted in these injuries; in effect, the boys were 'more fragile' than you predicted. I reject that too, as it flies in the face of all biological evidence." "Finally, they ask for leniency on the grounds that your actions are rooted in a deep childhood trauma." She examined her notes again. "This too is rejected outright. Miss Roughsedge, you are sentenced to 9x4-8, with a minimum of six cycles served Hard Time."

* * *

It was a long way to little Essie's new house. It was a journey Vaahn had had to fight for; his parents remained convinced that he should be kept away from her. It had been weeks since her Rejuvenation, but the problems the boy had were still clear for all to see; his attitude at home and class had deteriorated. A week ago, he walked into class on an unassuming Wednesday morning and jumped a classmate before lessons started. He wouldn't tell anyone why, but it was noted the boy had been involved in fights with Vaahn before. The next day Vaahn jumped the boy again, and the next day after that, until the boy eventually cracked. He confessed to his parents, and later the new Headmaster, that Miss Roughsedge let him off easy when he picked on Vaahn. Feeling lost as to what to do, Chloe and Matt turned to others for guidance. "Vaahn needs closure on this," said Lucy. "I think he feels like she's gotten away with it. He wants to know she's going to suffer every day for what she did." The counsellor agreed. "Closer is important - it would allow him to move on from this unfortunate ordeal." "He'll kill her," was Frost's opinion. "Keep him away from her." In the end, the family decided closure was what Vaahn required, and so the family had travelled to a small aerodrome south of Icara City and boarded a shuttle to the southern continent. The former Headmistress now lived a considerable distance from her former home; a coastal city with a thriving fishing and tourism industry. None of that interested Vaahn in the slightest. The family arrived in a rented hovercar. It pulled up outside a small semi-detached house on the outskirts of town, and Vaahn was given yet another lecture about being on his best behaviour. As she spoke to her son, Chloe couldn't help but notice how distant he seemed.

Essie had been prepared for her visitor. She was bent over a stool in the middle of the living room with her arms and legs strapped down to stop her squirming away. She'd clearly been trying. Her backside was already bared to her visitors, her four year old cheeks hot and sore from a thorough spanking delivered not ten minutes earlier. Essie's mother was a large woman with ebony skin. She greeted the Johansson's warmly and sat them down to talk a little. Vaahn stared past them, and past Essie, at something only he could see. He let the conversation go on around him, until his distracted nature became the subject of their scrutiny. "Vaahn, are you alright?" Matt asked, giving the boy on his lap a gentle squeeze. "Yes," Vaahn said. There was a predatory hunger in that short, simple word.

It was decided, with some trepidation, to allow Vaahn to begin the spanking. He was given the girl's shiny new paddle, which he twirled in his hand, testing its weight and balance. He tossed it into his left hand and gave and idle backhand swing before tossing it back to the right hand. "It'll do," he growled. Matt watched his son very carefully; the boy was trembling, and his emotions ran hot and cold; his eyes were distant, lost in space, but his teeth were locked in a snarl of pure, primal hatred. He stepped up beside the helpless girl, savouring how she squirmed at his approach. "Now this is more like it," he hissed between clenched teeth. "You've had this coming a long, long time." He tossed the paddle to his left hand, moving it so Essie could see it more clearly. Vaahn was physically comparable to an eight year old, and so there was only so much force he could conceivably put behind each swing, but the terrified girl knew he would hit her as hard as he could. "Shame this is all I have to work with." He tossed the paddle back to his right hand. The wood clapped against his leathery palm. He brought the paddle down against the girl's backside, a quick swing to get his eye in and line up for the main event. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes to clear his mind, and focused on the task at hand. He raised the paddle slowly, drawing the ordeal out as long as he could... The paddle swung through the air. It missed the girl's rear completely, passing over her and across into Vaahn's left hand. His father was already moving, but he wasn't fast enough. Vaahn turned the paddle side on and brought it down against the bridge of the Penny girl's nose. She screamed, but her cries were completely drowned out by the wild shriek of rage coming from Vaahn. He tried to swing again, but Matt was on top of him by then. He was thrown to the ground, kicking and biting and screaming like a banshee, and pinned there. He fought with everything he had, losing himself to madness as he desperately tried to get his hands on Essie Roughsedge and finish what he'd started.

They called the hospital just to be safe. Essie was good as new with a quick pass from a hand-held medical lathe, though her face was still sore for a good while after. Matt had been bitten on the hand during his son's violent fit, but that was likewise cleaned up without fuss. Vaahn was still where his father had left him; lying on the ground, face down, exhausted and drifting in and out of lucidity. He didn't react when the police dragged him to his feet and locked him in Kidd-Cuffs.