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Lurking in the Mud: Wrestling in the Rain:

Garn & Story (C) Russet'15

Flinty (C) FlintyFox

Standing by the fireplace with his tail held in one hand to keep it from twitching into the flickering flames Flinty was grateful for the warmth bathing his rump and legs. The temperature had gone from toasty, warm and comfortable to cold in less than half an hour after the power and heating failed. Shivering slightly, wriggling his toes in the thick rug under his feet the blue and white fox peered around the room. It was dark, the rugged oak furniture, rugs and stone floors where barely picking up the light from the fire as it crackled away merrily lending heat and light to the room.

"Any luck Garn?" he shouted toward the deeper patch of shadows and darkness in the middle of the kitchen where the big otter had opened the way into the basement. A muffled sound and a heavy clunk where his only reply before the silence was shattered by yet another crash of thunder as every window was suddenly illuminated in a bright blue-white flash of light.

"What?" Flinty bellowed his voice suddenly sounding inordinately loud in the silence that fell as the thunder passed. Shuffling to the far edge of the hearth rug the fox peered toward the basement trapdoor, "I missed that."

Garn's head popped out of the shadowy hole, the firelight illuminating his brown muzzle and making his deep, amber eyes glow. The sudden movement made Flinty jump and take a step back as the deep orange light glinted off his needle-sharp otter fangs. Then the big otter was pulling his tall, heavily muscled frame out of the basement, the beads, rings and hoops scattered throughout his long dreadlocks catching the firelight.

"Well we have hot water and heating which is the good news. Bad news is we're drawing no electricity down the main line that runs through the woods." he pushed the trapdoor shut with a heavy thump and walked over to join flinty. He was dressed in a long knee length kilt of bronze fabric and a thick woolly sweater, his long rudder wrapped up in a matching woolly sleeve to keep it warm.

"So you're generator is going, why no lights?" Flinty asked softly as another flash of lightning and boom of thunder shattered the still quiet of the winter air.

"Fuse for the heating went when the mains failed," he settled down on the rug and stretched his hands out toward the fire, "Seems someone used the last spare and didn't think to tell me. I had to use the fuses for the lights and power sockets to power to the boiler circuit. Hot water and heating is more important than lights or television."

Groaning softly flinty flopped into a huge beanbag and wriggled to try and get comfortable, "Well now what are we supposed to do? Sit around in the dark singing songs?"

Grinning impishly the big otter stretched then bounced back to his feet and padded over to a window and peered outside at the rain. Sheet lightning was casting its light over the long, rain drenched mud flats stretching away toward the river. The shattering booms of thunder where caused when fork lightning leapt between ground and sky, "We could go out there, enjoy the mud and the storm."

Flinty stared at the otter and squirmed deeper into his beanbag and shook his head, "You're mad, no way am I going out into that weather! It'll be freezing."

"Not if we make it a contest, you against me, wrestling in the mud and rain. It'll be great fun," the big otter walked back over to his vulpine guest and ruffled his shock of blonde hair, "You can't tell me you'd not enjoy that?"

Flinty let his eyes slowly travel up Garn's form, admiring his body in the warm light of the fire. He was strong, his fur a soft, slightly oiled surface that covered strong muscles made hard from hours of swimming and exercise maintaining his cabin. He was big and strong and Flinty couldn't deny he'd enjoyed the last few days out at the cabin with Garn.

"No, no it's unfair; it'll just end up like yesterday when we were chopping wood. I don't stand a chance against you."

Garn's ears folded down and he flopped into a chair, "Hey you're getting better, I told you I'd get you in shape and a week out here has done wonders for your physique."

"Maybe so but I'm still no match for you, not physically," the fox squirmed in his beanbag and pawed his feet at the otter, "You'd just overpower me out there in the mud and rain."

"Maybe... I guess I've got more experience wrestling in that sort of environment. But you're doing really well at learning how to wrestle. You did really good last night and got me twice."

Flinty smiled, feeling rather proud at being praised by the big otter, "Well it sounds fun," he glanced at the windows, "But no... I'd stand no chance at winning and that's no fun."

"Oh I can fix that," Garn said and bounded across the dimly lit chamber and opened a small door into a side room, "Wait there," his muffled voice called as lightning flared, illuminating the living room once again. Shaking his head and smiling the fox let himself sink deeper into the beanbag.

"Sure thing big guy, whatever you say," closing his eyes and wiggling his toes toward the warmth of the fire Flinty couldn't help but smile. He adored how Garn could go from serious and mature to bouncing around enthusiastically like a year old kit. He must have dozed off sunk in his beanbag because the sudden weight on his stomach as Garn straddled the beanbag caught him completely by surprise. Squawking the fox pushed up and stared into the smirking face of the big otter as he held a tiny glass phial before his snout.

"Drink this, it'll even the odds between us," thunder boomed, the window panes quivered as the bright flash that accompanied it made the glass gleam softly, allowing Flinty a glimpse of the murky liquid inside. The fox frowned at it for a moment then seized the bottle and downed the contents in one swift motion.

It tasted foul, gritty, thick and gooey, like dirt and the flavour was little better. Flinty coughed, spluttered and then gasp as his stomach heaved in protest. Garn slid off his chest and watched with wry amusement as Flinty rolled out of the beanbag and landed on all fours. He heaved again, a nasty sounding gurgle echoing at the back of his throat as his clothing creaked in protest at the way his body was bulking up.

The fox was growing, swiftly increasing in size and strength as muscles thickened along his arms, twisted into place across his legs and back as his broadening shoulders made his shirt split all the way along the seams. His trousers quickly followed, buttons bursting, fabric tearing and instead of revealing Flinty's fur Garn got a glimpse of tough blue hide. It was brilliant to watch and though somewhat uncomfortable for the fox he'd stopped heaving and was just quietly groaning in what sounded like pleasure as white armoured plates pushed up through his hide. They formed an overlapping network from the top of his blunt head all the way down his back, legs and tail.

Long, pointed ears twitched wildly as Flinty bellowed loudly and shook his head from side to side as his claws finished their sudden growth spurt. His thoughts were fizzing as new instincts made themselves at home alongside his thoughts, he knew how to dig, how to burrow, how to use his limbs and move as if he had lived in this frame his whole life. Muscle memory over-wrote that which had once driven a fox body, he was become an armadillo.

With a soft sigh and a bone cracking click the armadillo stretched then accepted Garn's paw in standing up on his feet. Holding his hands out before him Flinty admired the thick blue hide. He then glanced at the interlocking plates running down the backs of his arms and lifted a hand and knocked his knuckles against the tough plating that now covered the top and back of his head. He was also much, much bigger, at least the same height as Garn making him nearly seven foot tall and he could feel the muscles moving, bunching, rippling beneath his hide and plates as he rolled his shoulders and loosened up. Satisfied that everything seemed to be in working order he turned and grinned at Garn as the big otter tossed him a pair of trousers and a new shirt.

"Ready to wrestle me now?" the otter asked, Flinty just grinned and hurriedly pulled on the light cotton clothing and followed Garn toward the front door. Leaving half the shirt buttons undone the newly minted armadillo ducked his head and charged Garn as soon as the door was open.

"Yes!"

The armadillo's tackle caught Garn off guard; the transformation must have given Flinty's confidence a tweak or five. Caught about the waist by the heavy 'dillo Garn was crushed against Flinty's chest. Both of them travelled for a good three feet before they came down with a wet splash in the mud. The heavy rain had coated the surface of the mudflats with a layer of thick muddy surface water that soaked their clothes and coated their bodies. The shock of the impact was offset by the thicker, squishy clay beneath and Garn's body and Flinty's arms dug a deep furrow through the muck as they slid to a halt.

Looking up into the bright eyes of the armadillo Garn grinned, his teeth reflecting the flash of the storm as he heaved! Pushing up with all his might his left leg slid up and he twisted, pitching Flinty off balance to land in the muck with a splat. Mud was everywhere, splashing liquid coated his clothes, and cloying clay slicked his kilt to his legs and left his jumper as a sodden weight hanging from his shoulders. It looked like Flinty's clothes had been similarly saturated, mud dripped off his white scales, blue hide coated in a layer of slippery muck. For a moment they regarded each other from a distance and then Garn charged.

The big otter ducked low under the grasping arms of the muscular armadillo. His braids slapped against his back, tangled into a solid, heavy lump of mud and water he ignored them. They were just another part of his body and so his arms slid around Flinty's waist and down the dillo went as the otter heaved with all his might! Flinty roared and pitched up and back as Garn lifted him and then crashed down with a wet splat into the muck. Garn however had misjudged how much extra weight this new body gave Flinty. He was now buried up to his thighs in the thick muck. This ruined his follow up move and gave Flinty the chance to wriggle around and push Garn over with his broad, powerful feet.

The otter went back and kicked off as best he could, squirming from side to side through the thick muck as he tried to pull his legs free. Flinty was quick to take advantage of the otter's position and dive across the mud to pin him down and shove him under! Water splashed all around, mud oozed and splattered against the dillo's arms as the otter squirmed and sank down beneath the muck. Then with a herculean effort Garn wrenched his shoulders free of Flinty's grip and dived!

The slippery water weasel burrowed deeper under the surface of the muck and Flinty lost track of him as he slipped and slid further down the bank away from the house. Panting heavily the armadillo heaved himself up onto his knees and crouched, watching the water splattered surface of the mud-flats. Garn was there somewhere... perfectly hidden. He was an expert at using the mud against others but then... so was he...?

Flexing his claws Flinty rammed them into the muck and started to burrow! Heavy, wet clay went flying in all directions as he burrowed deeper! His tunnel had no cohesion, the walls fell in around him and Flinty took a deep breath as the heavy clay oozed over his back and buried him. It felt good, sliding over his body, oozing through his clothes, ruining them as mud squelched and slipped all around. Gently, slowly the armadillo let his head surface... sliding through the layer of running water. Lightning showed him the mudflats... stark white light making the muck appear black and featureless.

He'd lost Garn but now hopefully the otter had lost him in the darkness and the muck. Wriggling gently, letting it ooze against his body the armadillo pulled himself forward, the muck tugging at his clothing, pulling his trousers free as the saturated fabric was pulled by the mud sliding past. Normally he'd stop to find them but in all this mud there was no hope of them staying on. So Flinty gently eased his way forwards, heavy claws tearing a path through the muck for his body as he wriggled along. Then in a blinding flash of light he saw a body rising up out of the muck. Tall, broad of shoulders, mud oozing over their body and dragging himself out of the mire they'd made of the mud bank with all their thrashing about.

Changing direction Flinty heaved free and pounced, slamming into Garn from behind, twisting him down and face-planting the big otter in the muck! Garn twisted and squirmed but Flinty had him now, turning and moving his body until he was straddling the big otter and could hold him down in the muck. Garn's head came up as he scrambled to try and pull himself free but Flinty shifted with him, wriggling both of them deeper into the clay until Garn's body was sandwiched firmly between his thighs.

"Heh gotcha..." he purred and squeezed firmly as Garn went limp and grinned up at Flinty.

"Not bad, see told you that body would equal the score," the otter squirmed and pulled himself free from beneath the armadillo. The otter left his jumper behind but had managed to keep his kilt wrapped about his legs. He sat back in the mud, the rain causing the clay caking his fur to start to ooze and ripple softly.

"Yeah this body is made for digging," Flinty held up one of his clawed paws and smiled then struggled back to his feet and eyed the otter in the flash of the storm, "Round two?"

Garn laughed and twisted away and dived, riding across the surface of the mud on his stomach and a wave of slurry, "Sure thing if you think you can catch me dillo!"

Throwing back his head and roaring loudly in acceptance of the challenge Flinty waded forward, mud oozing around his legs as he stomped after the otter. The storm showed no sign of letting up and Garn had clearly changed tactics. It would be interesting to see who could win this round. Either way... the mud felt pretty damn good against his hide and scales so Flinty happily gave chase!

~fin