Fear and Loathing
#2 of Fear and Loathing - The Series
Author's Notes Testing a problem... I don't write stories too often lately, and this is not in any way a pre-conceived story, nor planned nor edited or corrected. This is a "Lying in bed at midnight and a half and unable to sleep, mind wandering in the strangest directions..." story. The story is in the second person perspective. This may upset some people. If you can't deal with seeing "you" as a pronoun in the narrative, please do not continue reading. Also, if you are looking for a quick yiffy story to get off to, don't read this. It has some odd philosophical bendings to it and quite honestly may be disturbing to some. "Fear and Loathing" contains semi-consensual yiffing between a male fox and a female human, some mass-murder (At the very beginning, in fact), pregnancy, questions about hatred, and a spiritual metaphysics bent. It also will probably have a lot of misspellings, due to the time of night. You have been warned. Fear and Loathing Updated July 4th, 2012 Format Fixing Project You look around at the carnage around you. You feel you have done well. These animal abominations don't deserve to live, everybody should know that, and yet many have accepted them. You reload the magazine of your assault rifle and look around for more to poke their heads out. The ones who have not yet died of their wounds? They can bleed to death for all you care. You do this for your unborn child. You time your attacks carefully. You make certain that you will not be caught. Your impassioned hatred has led to surgical precision and attention to detail. You leave none who are injured able to speak and you leave no trace that can be followed back to you. You may not be able to get them all, but your forays have left a mark on them nonetheless. You know that your pregnancy will call a halt to your excursions soon. This may be your last one, as your child is most important to you. This is why you do this. This is why you slaughter them like the animals they are. Animals are meant to stay on the ground and be lower than you, not walk and talk and hold jobs beside you. Your child would have been the ultimate highlight in your life, aside from your husband. Your child would have been his and your pride. You loved him as dearly as what you carry in your womb. How could he not see? How could he not hate these animals with you? How could he... leave you... just because you so rightly loath them? Now all you had was your babe-to-be. His departure only fueled your fires more, and you would make these animals pay for that. If you had your way, your child would be born to a world without them, but for now, you can only do what you can to make those animals pay. And pay they would! Your gaze travels across the bleeding furred bodies scattered about. You know that you must wrap up soon, and draw your knife, looking for ones who are not yet dead, so you may remove their eyes, hands, and tongues. Leave them no way to tell of you, and to suffer forever, if they survived. You feel a presence behind you, too close for comfort. You swing your rifle up as your knife clatters to the ground, but you have no chance. Can you not see that I am so much faster and stronger than you? My paws catch the rifle, and before you can get your finger to the trigger, the muzzle nudges against the underside of your chin, the still-hot metal uncomfortable to your bare skin. You could pull the trigger, still, but I know you will not. You value your own life, and that of your unborn, even though you cast no love for the lives you have just stolen, or the countless you have stolen on any other day. You jerk at the gun, trying to pull it from my grasp, but it is no use. A swipe of a claw and the rifle's sling is shorn. The gun is wrenched from your hands as the sling falls loose on your shoulders, and tossed away with a single arm as if it weighed nothing. Your eyes light on the knife by your feet, but a swift kick from an unclad footpaw sends it spinning away into the distance. You look at the fox standing before you. I am unclothed, which you have seen before in these animals, but is still rare. I seem to be almost the most animal-like of any that you have seen or killed. Though you have seen such an animal shape in the legs before, mine seem almost more so. And my eyes; A predatory look. A look that tells you that I know you cannot best me. My gaze burns into you, seeming to delve into your very soul. Somewhat intelligently, you run. It seems that this will undeniably be your last escapade for a short while. You do not want to spend the time to retrieve the rifle, nor the knife. They cannot be traced to you. Care, gloves, and other precautions make certain of your anonymity. But this fox has seen, and you could not kill him, so you must recoup, replan, and decide what to do next. You slow, the weight of your belly and your concern over your pregnancy keeping you from all out flight, though your hatred burns deep. You take a quick pace home, thinking I know not where to find you. You take a roundabout route, just in case, and feel that I am not there. But I see you, and I track you unerringly. Coming swiftly to your home, you know that no human who would have cared has seen you. You feel safe as you close and lock the door, uncertain of what just happened. You move to the kitchen, trying to think. You are sure that I was simply a fluke. You think you will never see me again. But then I am there. No door bars my passage. It as if the door was not there to me, as you saw me walk right through it. My eyes burn into you now as you quickly reach for a long knife. I can smell the fear as the blade descends towards me, but I catch it in my paw as if it were no sharper than a feather. The blade is twisted and bent into a crumpled mess between my fingers as I wrench it from your hand. You raise a fist to strike me, but my paw catches this as well. You can feel the strength. My grip is like a vice, unmoving, holding your fist still no matter how you contort and struggle. Yet your hand is not crushed, nor are you injured. Your struggles cease in shock as my free paw caresses your rounded belly. You know you are clothed, yet you felt my touch as if you were not. I feel it to be a shame, that you love your child so much already, yet have such hatred inside. Do you truly intend to bring the child up in such an environment? You try to cry out, to attract attention, to get help, but your scream never makes it past your lips as my muzzle meets them. You go rigid as I kiss you, my arm slipping about you as I draw you close. Again, though you know your clothing is there, it is as if I ignore it completely. My fur against your skin as if it is bare, my claws sharp against the small of your back breaking your desire to struggle. A new fire begins to well up within you. It fights with the burning hatred, and the hatred tries to get you to fight it, for the hatred sees it as not right. But the desire will not be ignored. My fur is so soft, my grasp strong, but gentle. Though the hatred tells you to break away, the feeling is very pleasant. A twist... A feeling of displacement... and suddenly time around you is no longer moving. Motes of dust hang completely motionless in the beam of sunlight through the kitchen window. The birds' songs no longer stream in from outside. The steady hum of everyday life has fallen completely silent, leaving you alone in a pocket of time with me. The hatred within you is fighting to its last, but you have trouble listening to it now. As my tongue draws across your throat, a shiver - you know not whether it is fear, hatred, or pleasure now - runs through your form. You look into my eyes as I gaze at you. I am still now. Do you want me to stop? If you want me to stop, I will, and never bother you this way again. A small whimper escapes your lips at the thought of me stopping, and you press against me to feel my fur again. My jaws part, and my teeth close with firm pressure on your throat, clenching just enough to let you feel their sharpness. Do you not understand that you are at my mercy? But the soft curl of my tail around behind your legs, and the gentle caress of my paw at the small of your back should tell you that I am not here to kill you. My jaws leave your neck, replaced again by a soft tongue, and then I lean back to look at you. The world seem to fade to black for a moment, leaving only my eyes burning into your vision. A small tesseract, and then the world fades back in. The foot of your bed is behind me, and your clothing is in a pile around your feet. You can no longer touch your clothing, similar to the way I did not touch it to begin with. And still, complete silence in this pocket of time. I lift a leg, drawing away from you to step back onto the bed. The hatred wells up for a moment. It tells you that now you can escape, now you can run, now you can be free, and plot how to take care of me. But the soft brush from the back of my fingers along your jawline squelches these thoughts. You are not certain what you are doing completely. As I draw you forward, you get onto the bed on your knees, as if in a daze. A bit more to the middle of the bed, then I slip around behind you. You feel my body warm against you as I press against your back, and the burning desire takes another jump in intensity. My arms slip around you and you feel a moment of fear... confusion... loathing... but also hot want... as you become aware of my arousal pressing against your rear. Your breath draws in in a startled gasp as my paws find your breasts, caressing them and fueling the flames. The hotter fire within your belly works well to kill the hatred for now. My tongue rasps against the back of your neck as I lean forward, forcing you to drop onto your hands. A tiny sound escapes your lips as questing clawed fingers slip behind you, feeling at your exposed flesh, slipping between lips already wet. Your body betrays your hatred as you bite your lip lightly, savoring the pleasure. Then I pause again. Again the question hangs, do you want me to stop? There is no penalty if you wish me to leave. But again your answer is a whimper, a pleading for me to continue. You feel me closer now, as my dampened paw slips around to your front again. My aroused flesh replaces its touch, and you gasp again. A gentle caress from my fingers, clawtips just barely touching, then a hot pressure against you from behind as I press myself slowly into you. You encounter a flare of fear for a moment. Your baby! Could this hurt your precious baby?! But then the fear dissolves. Somehow you know that I know. Somehow you know that your child is in no danger. The pleasure spreads in you as I sink myself into you. Pleasures as you have never felt before. My fur against your back, my clawtips dancing along your breasts, and the heat of my flesh within you is more than you have ever experienced. I start a slow rhythm, a dance within you, soon enticing a moan from your lips. Given into the feeling now, you have no desire but to feel more, to experience more. The burning within your belly has overshadowed the hatred, driven it to become naught but a tiny ember. Your passion swells with each thrust. You can feel my tongue against the back of your neck again as my arms hold you tighter. Then my teeth close on either side of your neck. You are uncertain for a moment whether the trickles of wet heat you feel down the sides of your neck are sweat, or blood, or both, but somehow you don't care. Somehow, you feel that they are definitely sweat, for you seem to know that I will not hurt you now. The pleasure only grows. You are lightheaded with the ecstasy, and you feel the heat building, and your peak approaching swiftly. Your head is thrown back in expectation of the release. Your mouth is wide open, ready to cry out in your passion. But then suddenly, I am gone. * * * Dust motes dance once more, bird songs filter through the window from outside, and the burning pleasure slowly begins to fade, with no final satisfaction for you. Exhausted nonetheless, you lower yourself carefully to the surface of the bed, panting heavily from the experience. Could it have been just a dream? No... My scent is too strong, the feeling too real for it to have been a dream. You can still imagine my heat deep within you. You can feel echoes of my clawtips on your skin. But why? Why did I leave you like that?! Then, again, you just somehow know. Your hatred was almost extinguished, but that ember still burns. As long as you have any hate for us, I am not for you. But now, you have twins. Your human daughter is still well, and will be born a strong and healthy baby girl, with quite a voice in her. But through my magic, she now has a brother. A brother with thick fur and a tail that might bring endless amusement to both of them as they grow up together. You know that I have left. Gone back to where you first met me. I have gone to heal those who caught the physical burning lead fire of your hatred. I have gone to restore the lives that your fear and loathing have stolen. I have gone to leave you to decide whether that ember of disgust that still burns for us will regrow into a blazing inferno, or be extinguished for good. When you go to the doctor next and find the tiny cub on the ultrasound, will that fire be there? Will you destroy both your beloved daughter and the cub at the same time, just to feed the hatred? Will you allow them to both be born and then murder your tiny fox son as he lies trustingly and lovingly in his mother's arms... your arms? Will the ember be killed, or will it blaze up? Do be cautious... For while I may hamper such a blaze once, if you do not take your life into your own hands and douse that ember that is left, you shall incur my wrath rather than my love. The love and the wrath of the Fox god are equally strong. As you fade into sleep, you can still see my eyes burning into your soul. My thoughts in your mind come strong... ~We furs are here to stay. To love us, or to hate us, the choice is yours. Choose wisely.~ And sleep claims you with those thoughts in your mind. Now, the choice is yours. * * * Liked the story? Click to send a tip by PayPal!
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