Charlie Freak
#7 of Und Des Nachts: Danny the Killer
Disclaimer: This is another terrible story, and it contains all manner of terrible things. Why you would be compelled to read a story about one confused wolf puppy viciously abusing another, physically and sexually... well it's beyond me. But if you've been following the story, welcome to Ian's world many years after we last visited. It's very different. And it's all the same.
That said, I did steal some lyrics from Let the Monster Rise, a song in Repo!. Used without permission. Oops.
It was a vicious instinct Ian was feeling. He was breathing heavy death now, listening with perked ears to the sounds of a soulless and wholly empty forest. What he wouldn't give to tread on his paws here- what price would he pay for it? They'd throw him out, call him crazy; they'd make him stop. They'd take his blood, eager and thick with all that rotten shit Rob had given him. White powder that stung his nose and made him live. Ian could feel it curling up behind his eyes, making him see everything sharper, making his tail wag, making his ears perk-
GOD DAMN, and things were loud here. There were mothers fucking lovers in the bathrooms while their husbands fathered their kids at home. Teenagers were lying to security guards about drugs they swore they weren't on. Someone was calling his friends for ice cream. Someone was dialing his broker. Someone was buying a balloon for her pup, and tying the string around his paw. Ian could hear them. Ian could smell it. Holding back the night with their fangs, just like him- but they all walked on two legs. Prey.
Were they looking at him? Oh God, no. Ian checked over his shoulders. He could have sworn someone had seen him in the bathroom, sniffing his first lines. That awful shit was drizzling down the back of his throat now. Ugh. No, could they smell it? Could they hear him breathing? Could they hear his excited panting? Could they hear his blood rushing through his skull and down to his sheath?
Ian shook his head. Good blood. Eager blood. Young blood. He could hear so many things now- and his ears were as sharp as his teeth. It bothered him now, just like it did when he was tired and alone at the end of the day. Sometimes when he closed his eyes at night at the foot of Danny's bed, he could hear screaming. It was a hollow, sick noise. Dry, like sand. Sometimes he didn't know where it came from, sometimes he could tell. There was a cub screaming. A cub screaming in the dark. A hyena cub. What was that supposed to mean? Wake up, Ian.
His ears could hear it now, and he sank to his knees. Everything seemed so fast, and it felt so good to rub his paws against the cool tile of the mall. Ian wanted desperately to crawl across it like a feral wolf; he wanted to prowl the mall alone, and watch his prey live its bizarre and estranged life.
Cautiously, he stood up. Ian knew better. Feral was death here, or at least strange enough to get him arrested on suspicion of drug abuse. It was his first time, after all. And he was alone, and free. He couldn't let himself freak out like that. After all, who was gonna take care of him if he did? Loudness. Straighten your mind out, Ian. FOCUS.
And who was going to take care of his cub, anyway?
Well, this pup, anyway. Mason, he said his name was. He answered every question Ian asked him with perfect honesty, but he wouldn't stop crying and rubbing against the older wolf's crotch, and it was starting to give Ian dirty ideas. His tail was already wagging, and his paws were already all over the boy's tearstained face, feeling the soft fur, stroking along the black ears. Ian made up the excuse that it was just like Mason's mother used to do. God, he wanted everything. The taste of eager blood, the snap of young bones, and the excruciating feeling that came with knowing- Ian shook his head violently. Those thoughts were for behind locked doors. Those thoughts were for gagged.
"She has to be around here somewhere." The lupine said. He was kneeling down on the ground, still, eye level with a very distressed-looking wolf puppy. The kid's peppered-grey fur was stained around his eyes from the crying. Ian had forgotten how long he had been talking to him- he needed to get his mind under control. Was anyone watching this conversation?
"I wanna go home." Mason shivered, his black ears folding down. "It's scary here."
"Shh... shh... Deep breaths. Tell me about your mommy. Where was she last?"
"She was buying..." The puppy sniffed, and Ian gave him a spare napkin to wipe his nose on. "Perfume. I told her she smelled nice but she wanted some anyway."
"Was it in that store? The one with the bunny lady at the counter?"
"N-no. That one." Mason pointed. It was a department store.
"Well, let's look in there, ok?" Ian took the pup's paw, and stood up, wagging his tail a little and hoping it would lift the little guy's spirit.
And his ass. Ian thought. Christ, he was going to smear that kid across the wall. Cubs were tender, cubs were weak and loud. They didn't even fight when you started biting their belly and chewing up the meat under their ribs- not like adults. You could hold them, feel them move around you, clutch them against your mouth, your chest, your cock- Ian cherished that. Prey that literally manipulated itself- all the fear was honest and controllable. All the sounds high and unrestrained by embarrassment, or pride... All you had to do was make it afraid.
"What's your name, anyway?" Ian felt the paw he was holding twitch.
"I'm Ian." He said calmly, looking around for a wolfess with the same fur and eyes. "Just Ian, that's all. Do you see her?"
The pup shook his head dejectedly, and Ian gave him a soft look, putting his paw on the little one's chest. "You like superman?"
Ears cocked. "Yeah." Mason said after a little hesitation. "He's really strong."
Ian smiled and rubbed the space between his ears. "And he's invincible too. No one can touch him. Is that why you're wearing his shirt?"
Mason wiped away some of the water from his eyes and tugged at the hem of his blue superman shirt. "Uh-huh."
"I like it." Ian said. "It's cool."
Wrench his mouth open. Force it down his throat. Let him gag and vomit and wheeze for air. Ian was drooling a little now, and he had to wipe it off his chin. Mason was looking at him like a blind sheep, completely unseeing. This kid deserves it! He wants it! Look at his eyes! All of Ian's kids wanted it, and all of them deserved it for looking like that. A wolf with no pride shouldn't live on like pathetic prey. He was half tempted to make the puppy to offer him his throat. Right there. Right fucking there in the mall. Rip off his ears! Pull out his tail! Lap up his tears!
"I don't think she's here, kiddo." Mason clung to Ian's leg. "I'm sorry."
There was an announcement over the loud speaker. "Liam! Mrs. Heather Liam, your son is waiting for you at the front desk. Mrs. Heather Liam, your son is waiting for you at the front desk."
"This is the third time they've called for her. I think she might have left the store. Do you want to look somewhere else?"
"I don't know where she went!" The puppy pleaded. He was going to cry again, Ian knew. "She was right in here."
"Come on now. Chin up, kiddo. Put on a brave face for me, ok? Can you be brave?"
"I can be brave..." Mason's ears flattened. He knew he was lying.
"Let's go see if she's out in the main mall."
Ian was going to lead him into a bathroom. Ian was going to look around, and make sure no one was there, and he would lock the door. If he screams, grind his muzzle into the floor. If he tells you it hurts, peel his lips back until the skin stretches and snaps. Cut that little bitch! Make him squirm! He could feel the drugs eating away at his brain now, making his tail wag, his eyes glaze over. Everything was fast as fuck and he was gonna kill a cub tonight. His first in a month. His cock was thick with blood now, and he could practically feel the pre drooling down his thigh. God, he hoped it didn't show. Was Mason watching? Was anyone else watching? Shit! Ian hoped not. Fuck, his skin hurt. He'd mount that little runt good, and fuck him until he screamed.
"We've been looking for hours." Mason was shaking now, and Ian was feeling pretty dejected, too. Was that stuff wearing off? Hold on, Ian. Steady paws, subtle and quick.
"I..." Ian was slow to respond. "Think we're done. Are you sure you don't know your phone number?"
Mason shook his head. "And your address?" Mason shook his head. "I'm sorry, champ. I'm out of ideas."
"You're shaking."
"I know."
"Are you afraid, too?"
"Oh yeah." Ian said, his lips curling back. Time to say the magic words. He just hoped no one was watching him- this was the important part, after all. "I'm afraid all the time."
"My mom says I'm just paranoid."
"I'll bet she- What?"
"Paranoid."
"... Oh." Ian clutched his paw, and gave him a broad grin. Danny trained him to smile like that. It hurt his face, but it made people like him, especially cubs. He called it his hunting face. "I'll tell you what, though- I have to take a leak. Come with me, it'll be real quick. And then we can go down to the police station and see if we can't get ahold of your mom. Does that sound like a plan, kiddo? I promise I'll be really fast."
Bingo. Bulls-eye. The world swayed back and forth with every step, and everything was exciting again. No more bad vibes, just violent ideas, mean things to do to meat. Put your paws in places they don't want them to go. Put your tongue in places a tongue shouldn't be able to reach. Lick them, hold them, touch them. That was the shit- and he still had some of that gnarly stuff in a bag in his pocket. Just a little. Enough. That was all. Feel it and hold it tight against you. Lick it out. Sate that eager blood. Slake that disgusting thirst.
The bathroom door closed. The sound echoed. It was a dark and dank place. It was quiet, cut away from the world. Privacy was a cage here, for the right animal. Ian was ecstatic again- he could feel his blood pumping. He could feel a song coming through him.
_Didn't I tell you not to go out? Didn't I?
You did, you did.
Didn't I say the world was cruel? Didn't I?
You did, you did._
Ian mouthed it to no one as he ushered the pup through the door. He hummed the tune and listened to it echo as he turned the lock on the door and kicked the knees out from his prey. He whispered it softly as his twitching paw flicked a switch, stealing all the light from the room.
_Didn't you say that you'd protect me? Didn't you?"
I tried, I tried.
Is that how you'd help me? Is it?
I tried, I tried._
Tiny claws skittered across the floor when the lights flickered and died. Ian was pulling his jacket and t-shirt off of his bleached fur, scratching idly at his chest. His pants followed, and soon he was bare as the day he was born, crowing pathetic pleas for food at his unconscious mother. And now he was crawling along the bathroom floor, sniffing at the rotted tiles, smeared with years of filth and swabbed over with cheap soap and rusted water. Even through his haze, even through the lamentations of his high, he thought better on four legs. He knew better. He'd lied to the kid, told him all sorts of false truths and done it like an expert, hadn't he? Danny would be proud of him, Ian knew. The world was simplifying before his eyes, his nose, and his ears. All desire, all knowing... melted away.
All that was left was to be. A cub was heaving in the dark, drawing huge gulps of putrid air into his lungs. It echoed like a heartbeat- maybe this is what Danny heard when he made music? Ian slunk around the stalls, pulling himself around corners with practiced patience. He would draw this out, and make it good. His heartbeat slowed while the clacking of claws quickened. The sounds of running. His stance shifted, and his crawled forward, poking his nose under a few doors and sniffing. "What are you doing?" the prey whimpered. Ian growled pleasantly.
Fangs flashed in the dark, and Ian heard scampering. The prey was trying to get over one of the walls. Clever. It took no time at all to creep under the door, silent as light. The wolf crouched, curling up on the floor as the final traces of light from the door fled. They were shutting down the lights in the department stores. There was a squeal and a loud smack as the puppy hit the floor on the other side of the wall. He was in the stall right next to Ian. And something had snapped.
The prey yelped as Ian slid his head under the barrier and sunk his teeth into a fluffy tail. No meat, but he nicked flesh. No blood yet, but he could yank. He pulled the pup back by the tail, unperturbed by the kicking and flailing, or the unearthly noises spawning from the little wolf's throat. The feeling of squirming under his belly sent electricity rocketing through his bones, and he couldn't help the wolfish grin stretching wickedly across his muzzle. The predator snarled in victory, lifting his prize up by the neck, clenching powerful jaws around a weak and gagging neck.
SHIT! FUCK! Ian howled in pain, recoiling back against the door and slamming it open with his weight. Christ, that was his eye The prey was whining, scampering away now with savage ferocity. The claws were clicking right up to the door- Ian could hear them. He could smell that claw, dripping with his blood. His throat howled in blind and terrible rage. Just as the lock clicked open, he smashed the prey against the heavy wood of the door, flinging him back with vicious teeth. He snapped at the wimpering puppy, crushing him down against the tile with a furious paw, right in the middle of the "S" on his shirt.
His meat jerked under him, trying to look away. Ian pressed his muzzle against the cub and opened his eye wide, letting some of the red ichor drip down all over the cub's muzzle- like syrup over pancakes. His jaws were open inhumanly wide now, and his hot breath was rancid and furious all over the cub's fur. A choked sob filled the room as the predator lifted himself on two legs.
Mason tried to be brave as Mr. Ian threw him against the wall, shoving a paw against his throat and tearing off his shirt with sharpened claws. He fought back tears, but his arms were weak. Tears were the only thing he could fight now. He coughed, trying to spit the blood from the larger wolf's wounded eye out of his mouth. It was thick and nasty-tasting. The predator's cut was still drooling all over his heaving chest as he threw the puppy back down, plastering him all over the floor.
Filthy runt. Weak and sick, wretched and his. His and no one else's, to punish, to use, to enjoy. Ian would rip apart his insides and gobble them up. Like the big bad wolf. Like a monster. Like the untouchable killing machine he was- perfect and feral and invincible.
"Breathe!" He barked in the trembling pup's ear, waiting for the tell-tale gasp. Mason drew a shuddering breath, and Ian gripped the back of his head, drawing him back and using all of his strength to smash his muzzle against a sink. No- not smash. Wrap. The lip of the sink caught on the pup's teeth, sliding into his maw. The porcelain forced his mouth wide open as Ian put his weight on, enjoying the grisly snap as a jaw cracked- forced further than bone or tendon could handle. It was like watching a snake open his mouth wide to swallow an egg, except wolf puppies can't fit their mouths around sinks. Ian ignored the sight of blood dribbling from the corners of Mason's snapped lips, glimmering in the weak light.
But he didn't ignore the smell. Puppy blood, puppy tears, and even his blood made him thick, long, and proud. One paw, strong from all the crawling Ian did, kept Mason's head pressed tight against the sink, grinding it forward despite the cub's flustered breathing and unintelligible whining. The other paw, tarnished from the grime and the stray dribbles of bodily fluid issuing from Ian's canine prick, ripped away the last remnants of clothing. Little jeans, and tightey-whiteys were pulled off, half destroyed from the rabid jerking and clawing of the larger wolf's eager trembling digits. The paw slid shakily across dark-furred thighs, as if contemplating leaving them alone, simply stopping their advances to admire. No such luck- the beast was back in an instant, lifting the cub by the hips and sliding his rump unceremoniously against eager hips and pained wolf meat. It had been hard for at least an hour now. But Ian was angry- and there was only so much he could endure when he was inside. A finger, however...
Mason's body jerked violently as Ian violated him with claws and fingers, stretching and manipulating him in disgusting ways. He could feel wetness under his tail. It was warm and slick, and he didn't know exactly what it was- only that it eased the burning and the stinging of being stretched open by one, two, three fingers.... And then another paw, pulling him apart. By then, his jaw was locked around the sink- he didn't have the strength to pull himself off of it.
And then- real pain. Ian could hear the squeal around the porcelain. It hung in the bathroom for a while like a ghost while Ian drove himself with wild abandon, mating with rabid, heavy movements. His hips jerked sporadically, refusing to establish rhythm or steady force. He was a monster now. He was a beast. He owned this fucking puppy, and he would abuse every right his powerful body would allow for. Ian did. Blood, cum, and blood again, mixing in pinkish, foamy strings and drizzling from Mason's rump. He could smell it all, and he felt every moment and every shuddering scream. His heart soared, his pride swelled. He didn't even bother to let his knot deflate when he finally finished. Mason, it seemed, wasn't finished- he wriggled and fought to get away at every moment.
At last, the cub went limp. Bloody success dripped from his rent anus as his body slumped back against the hungry wolf. The smell of piss was mingling with the other fluids now. Ian couldn't help himself- he needed every part of this. His laughing was half howling and half elated, triumphant giggles. His fur was on end! He owned this cub! The prey was HIS to use and devour! Anyone could smell that, and they would know for a fact it was him. That powerful, musky scent was his and his alone. All that was left was to... eat.
With force, he yanked the pup's head back from the sink, detaching several teeth and sending them clattering and broken to the floor. Ian felt a little worn, but he was hungry too. The gleeful expression on his face said it all. Alphas ate first- that was the law. He flicked the lights on- he wanted to see this. Delicately, his sullied paw traced along the cub's muzzle and over his black earsâ€"
What?
======
"Don't lie to me." Danny snarled. "You're not in a position to tell me what to do or who I am anymore. So shut your trap, old man."
The wolf laughed, and pulled the phone away from his ear. "You haven't changed at all. I'm surprised they haven't locked you up yet. I watch the news you know- everyone says it's a wolf. But I know for a fact it's you. You fucked up little kit."
"You think you have the right to call me fucked up?!"
"I know I have the right."
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Danny hated this. He never lost his cool. His voice was cracking with frantic worry. "After what you put me through, you think you can say things like that?"
"What did I put you through?" The wolf barked into the mouthpiece, glaring daggers through the prison glass. "Ask yourself. What exactly did I put you through?" The honesty in his voice was stinging for the weasel. And for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. None of these facts were adding up.
"You did this to me." His retort was feeble. "You made me what I am."
"Are you talking about Angela?"
"What else would I be talking about?"
The wolf hesitated, shocked for the first time in eighteen years. He chose his words carefully. "I learned to accept what happened to me. No jury in the world would have convicted you. Are you telling me you haven't come to terms? Are you saying you..." his voice lingered on a single unsaid word.
Danny's cell phone rang.
Ian tried to think of something. Anything. He clutched his jacket tight to his chest, resting it against a sink while he tried to clean up his mess. What would Danny do? What would he do? Ahh... a song. Yes. He tried to think of a song, something Danny would sing to him when he was feeling afraid at night. When the hyena wouldn't stop screaming. Something his mom would sing. He gritted his teeth. What were the words? Ahh... He knew.
Ian's muzzle tenderly licked away the grime off of Mason's face, cautiously whispering these words into his ears with a sad, lilting tune. It was his favorite lullaby... back when the world hated him.
_Weep you no more, sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heaven's sun does gently waste.
But my sun's heavenly eyes
View not your weeping
That now lies sleeping,
Softly now, softly lie sleeping... sleeping.
Sleep is a reconciling,
A rest that peace begets.
Doth not the sun rise smilig,
When fair at evening he sets?
Rest you then, sad eyes
Melt not in weeping
While she lies sleeping,
Softly now, softly lie sleeping... sleeping._
Mason's body stopped shaking, just a little bit. Ian drew a shuddering breath, and stalked out of the mall, cradling the damaged puppy in his arms like it was the holy grail itself. In the truck, he tentatively reached for his cell phone. He hoped no one was watching him.