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--1

Kahnso loved world tours. Foreign audiences strangely loved a rowdy American rock band, and they enjoyed perusing Kahnso himself, a leather-clad Adonis whom could sing deceptively well. The sights were wonderful, the tastes exotic, the pussy exciting and the drugs boundless.

Midnight in Tokyo, Japan. Naked and gripping a pulpy mixed drink, Kahnso watched a rough cut of his concert from earlier in the night. He thought his own performance was good as always and the reward of his swaggering and crooning lay passed out in the bed behind him, a kangaroo girl and quite a fan of his craft. Kahnso had been amused to learn that she was an Aussie who had moved to Japan - not the kind of girl he expected to nail in the land of the rising sun.

Despite his pleasure with his own performance, Kahnso was certain in a paranoid haze that it had been for nothing because of his opening act. The Tokyo shows were the result of one mistake after another. His shows that weekend had been meant for Russia; unrest saw the Tokyo set pushed up the line; and then his chosen opening act in Tokyo wasn't available. In what initially seemed like good fortune, Kahnso's manager found a popular act whose own touring coincided with Kahnso's. Idan Kolinsky was his name, and when Kahnso saw imagery of him, he thought it could work out.

Idan was a weasel hailing from Israel, carrying with him a diverse range of musical influences and antiwar sentimentality. The Japanese crowd ate up his worldly sound and intelligent, intense message. And that was exactly why Kahnso hated him. He was too good of an opening act. Kahnso didn't perform with talentless garage bands but neither did he want his opening acts to be too competent.

As Kahnso's band, manager, and the kangaroo girl he'd rage-fucked into oblivion had all tried to reassure him, he and his band had still been the headliners. They left with the lion's share of the money and the audience all-around responded more to Kahnso shouting about drugs and sex and sometimes lost love, but he wasn't one to be placated.

Kahnso looked over at his clock. It was four in the morning. He was buzzed enough that he should have been able to relax but that wasn't going to happen. He backed up the video and watched Idan's performance over again, listening to the steady din of the crowd. It was the soundtrack to his blood boiling. In light of his perceived upstaging and with yakuza-provided cocaine still clogging up his raw sinuses, he turned off the TV, slid on some pants and a beater and headed out the door. The tour bus rocked when his massive weight stepped out and his mutt-dog guitarist peered out after him.

"Kahnso," he yawned, "where you going, man?"

"I'm gonna congratulate our opener," Kahnso called back.

"Aw, shit," the dog muttered. And then he shut the door, fell back on the couch, and passed out again.

--2

With his status, Kahnso had no trouble bullshitting his way to Idan's hotel room. Bilingual translators abounded to help him get his point across. For all of his charming smiles and false reassurances that his visit with Idan was in good faith, Kahnso thought about looking into acting when he made it back home.

Upon making it to Idan's door he felt just one little pang of worry, a nagging thought that perhaps he shouldn't rough the weasel up. Kahnso shook it off what he perceived as the weakness, and he rapped sharply on the door to which yawning Hebrew arose. Then in English and much more clearly, "No room service!"

"Idan," Kahnso said into the door, "it's Kahnso here. You opened for my band." There was a beat. Had Idan gone back to sleep? Kahnso pounded again. "Open up, I wanted to talk."

There was no discernible shuffling of feet shuffling and certainly no words. Idan simply opened up the door and stared at Kahnso, half-naked and bleary eyed. "You realize it's incredibly early in the morning, don't you?"

"Yeah," the rockstar absently said. "It won't take long. Can I come in?"

Idan deferred. Kahnso followed him inside and shut the door at his back.

Musical equipment not yet packed away sat delicately on the floor. An evil smile crossed Kahnso's face when he envisioned stomping on the keyboard or tossing his guitars out the window. Property damage could ruin an indie musician as Kahnso knew, but he wanted a more personal touch than that. It didn't occur to him to, say, wipe his ass with the weasel's songbook. Cocaine kept his thoughts stuck on bullying and violence.

Before Kahnso could enact any of his plans, Idan coolly grabbed his hamsa necklace from the nightstand and slipped it around his lanky neck. There it hung in his downy chest fur and its silver complemented his cream shades. "The show was successful, wasn't it? The audience loved us. I saw you leave with a... Kangaroo girl, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Yeah, a little down-under pussy," Kahnso snickered. Idan frowned but said nothing on the matter. "Anyway, here's the deal," Kahnso said in a frank tone. Toe-to-toe with Idan, he snapped, "You fucking upstaged me."

Idan's puffy eyes widened before they narrowed venomously. Kahnso was by nature intimidating, him being seven feet tall, bulky with muscle and blessed with massive fangs from dental surgery. His red eyes looked evil and his long, black mane of hair did nothing to offset his terrifying presence. In sharp contrast was Idan, six feet tall but lanky as weasels often are. He had only his dreadlocks and a war-weary attitude. The confrontation was not necessarily David and Goliath, yet he doubted if he could fend off a beast like Kahnso.

"I don't believe I did so," said Idan as gently as he could, "but if I did, I'm sorry. If it's any consolation to you, I'm just donating what money I received for the show."

"Why the fuck would that make me feel better?" Kahnso asked with a withering glare. "Unless you're donating that into my pocket, we still have a fucking problem."

Idan bristled and recoiled but the hotel room didn't offer too much space for an escape or a scuffle. With rising sternness he said, "Then I'm afraid we still have a problem. I'm not paying you off."

"Then fuck it, we'll do this the hard way," Kahnso grunted, grappling for Idan. Idan fell back on the bed with nowhere else to go. Kahnso fell with him and pinned the weasel under his muscular weight but the lanky creature tried his hardest to squirm. Between Kahnso's hard body and the mattress he was able to get some small purchase, but Kahnso clapped a paw onto Idan's snout and pushed down, using the force to get up on his knees.

The weasel hissed under Kahnso's squeezing paw and he managed to open his mouth up. Kahnso's thick fingers into his mouth broadside and there was no finesse in what Idan did next: He bit down until he hit bone with his needly teeth. Kahnso wasn't high enough for the pain to be dulled but he was angry and indignant. As he trembled and grunted for the terrible pain, he snatched Idan's dreadlocks and yanked as sharply as he could. Idan screamed around the bloody fingers but his teeth stayed locked, ripping ruts in the flesh and spurring Kahnso further into his savage rage.

"Fucking hippie son-of-a-bitch!" Kahnso hissed through his clenched teeth. The pain was too much to bear. He grabbed Idan's jaws and forced them apart with fantasies of breaking the weasel's skull in half. Instead he pulled back his paws to cup the wounded one at his first opportunity, hissing and groaning with the stinging pain.

Idan struggled valiantly to get out from under Kahnso. Though the pain was staggering, Kahnso was not about to give his foe an advantage and so he clapped his wounded paw down around Idan's slender neck in a harsh squeeze. Upon being throttled, Idan grappled instinctively and uselessly for Kahnso's offending wrist. Already his eyes began bulging and his vision seemed to sparkle at the edges and Idan lambasted himself for opening the door.

Death was what Idan expected and he began to resign himself to it. When he felt Kahnso's free paw grappling at his middle and fumbling its way downward, he thought the fox was simply jockeying for a better grip for who knew what. It came to be that Kahnso was up to something much more worrisome when he grabbed hold of the weasel's briefs and yanked them downward. Terrified at the prospect of being nude around Kahnso and all which that entailed, Idan thrashed with everything he had left under Kahnso's strangling grip.

For all his struggling, Idan managed to earn only enough room for a whooping gasp of breath. By then his briefs were around his knees and Kahnso was seemingly focused more on shoving down his own pants than in keeping Idan under control. With a burst of strength granted by the gulp of air, Idan kicked the fox. He was shamelessly aiming for the crotch but instead he uselessly kicked Kahnso's hard stomach.

Kahnso wrenched down with his gripping paw and clapped the other around on Idan's bare groin to envelop his modest, circumcised shaft and the balls beneath it. It was with a most unsavory and bloodthirsty grin that Kahnso squeezed down, coaxing a strangled squeal from Idan's lips. "Trying to kick me in the balls, are you? Ought to see what kind of singing voice you have once I rip yours right the fuck off!"

The weasel lashed for Kahnso's eyes this time and the fox recoiled and released his victim's groin but he maintained his grip on the weasel's neck. With his atrophied patience dwindling and an angry grimace to match his mood, Kahnso punched and pounded Idan about the side of his head. His punches were hasty, grazing Idan's head and bruising his flesh but never connecting fully enough to concuss the weasel.

A grace period came to pass in which Kahnso unhanded Idan's throat to shove down his pants. the rockstar's plush sheath had already disgorged its swollen, knotted cock and Idan looked at it with a baleful expression. Suddenly he wondered if Kahnso had intended to rape him all along, though the mercurial Kahnso couldn't have given an honest answer one way or the other.

Idan's strength was coming back but his head throbbed, his voice was raw, and his fears were running high. He rolled away from the fox but Kahnso lunged onto the bed, snarling like a beast at the prospect of denial. Exhibiting all of his terrible strength, he snatched Idan's dreadlocks and pulled the yowling weasel close. For the first time in the encounter, Idan displayed visible fear and Kahnso saw it, smelled it, and played off of it. The grin which split his long snout was outright malicious and the glint in his eyes was that of a power-hungry rapist.

Kahnso flipped Idan over and pinned him by the back of his neck. Though Idan thrashed and reached back with intent to claw, Kahnso kept his arm locked and he ignored the bloody scratches his prey managed to cause. Quickly he straddled the weasel's thighs and the plump red rocket of his cock slipped between Idan's taut ass cheeks.

Out of Idan's mouth came some helpless cry of indignation. As Kahnso ground his cock inward and pressed the tip to his prey's quivering and clenched asshole, Idan emitted another helpless sound. In one rough buck, Kahnso forced his shaft inside and the stretch dragged an agonized and protracted wail from the weasel's maw.

Well-versed in the art of rape was Kahnso and as he pinned Idan between his shoulder blades for practicality's sake, he used the other paw to sadistically push down on the back of the weasel's skull, which made his breathing difficult and left his screams muffled. His grin glistened with spittle and his ears lay flat against his skull ground his meat home and pounded it back in again and again. Around Kahnso's shaft, Idan clenched and shuddered as hot, useless tears poured from his eyes and his paws balled up into fists around the sheet.

No taunts came from Kahnso's tongue as he raped Idan with dreadful efficiency. Each time he sank his cock, his knot kissed up flush to the weasel's abused pucker. Though the ring had not ripped to bleed, it was excruciatingly raw and the cries Idan thus yowled into the mattress were frequent between desperate gasps for air.

Somewhere deep inside of Kahnso's thick chest, a masculine and overbearing growl was welling up. Idan felt as much as he heard it. The weasel uselessly writhed his lanky body and kicked with his long legs. Desperately he coiled his tail around Kahnso's arm but its weakness and plush fur made the gesture seem almost loving, far from that though it was.

"Shi-i-it, I love putting fucks like you in their place," Kahnso hissed through his teeth. He leaned down over Idan, unhanding the back of his skull to instead pin the weasel on the shoulders with both paws. He bent and leaned down, nosing past Idan's nappy dreads to bite and pinch the back of his neck. Idan hissed and shied away from the bites but it only spurred Kahnso to go at it harder. He snapped at one of the weasel's round ears, snaring it with his teeth to bend but not puncture it. Just the same, Idan screamed.

The grin covering Kahnso's face was colossal and menacing. He shoved off of the weasel's shoulders, bruising and winding him with that force, but still he kept one paw on the weasel's back for control. With the other, he combed through Idan's dreadlocks as if affectionately. The weasel whined and rightfully so when Kahnso tightened down and yanked back. As so much unspeakable pain lit up his scalp, Idan clenched with everything he had on Kahnso's cock. A cry screeched through his tightly-clenched teeth and tears poured from his eyes.

In unintentional Hebrew lost on Kahnso's ears, Idan whimpered of his sorrows and Kahnso's foul demeanor. In English he uneasily asked, "This, this is what gets you off, is it?" It was his every intention to sound incisive, to perhaps cut Kahnso to the bone with his words but his tone was a weak and pleading one.

The fox gave no answer as he smashed his hips into Idan's firm behind. Over and over again he pounded his knot home against the weasel's bruised tail hole with every intent to pop it in. Not once did the weasel wish for Kahnso to just get it over with, however, for that fist-sized knot something he certainly feared and wanted no part of. The tod's insistent fucking and hair pulling told him that the knot was inevitable, however.

Again came that menacing snarl as it rumbled up in Kahnso's chest. He pressed down with all of his weight to pin Idan between the bed and his palm as he yanked back ferociously on the weasel's well-loved dreadlocks. At Idan's broken scream he triumphantly said, "Fucking clench for me!"

The weasel did, but not willingly, and his unaccustomed asshole often writhed and clenched when those dreadful jerks on his dreadlocks weren't filling the void. To Idan, the helplessness was as awful as the pain itself. Being trapped under Kahnso's thumb and impaled by his massive endowment left Idan passive and helpless.

Whether or not it was fortunate for Idan, Kahnso's gruff panting and shuddering promised that he wasn't far from his climax. He let go of Idan's hair but kept the weasel pinned. The way he held the weasel down seemed to have less to do with maliciousness, instead coming across as a matter of practical function. Every rough grind of his hips shoved that fat knot more threateningly still into Idan's unwilling asshole and the weasel's cries were steady though not necessarily timed with Kahnso's grinds. Idan was mortified with his entire situation, and the pain was secondary.

Finally Kahnso started to shudder as his orgasm struck. Exhibiting even less than usual in the way of care, he pushed his knot against Idan's ass with all of his weight and strength and in a moment the weasel had long been dreading, it pushed its way inside with one brutal stretch. As the supple, pink ring made way for the knot Idan screamed into the blankets, by then convinced that help would never arrive. Even when the knot was well inside of him and his tail hole was made to relax around the more narrow bottom inches of Kahnso's cock, he hissed and cried, and then came the defilement that was Kahnso's release, an enormous load to sully the weasel's innards which offered unwanted, soothing warmth.

Kahnso had to admit that after the excitement of the rape itself, his orgasm felt like an afterthought, but with his hips flush to Idan's firm behind and his knot buried in a weeping, beaten hippie, the fox was more than able to grin from ear to ear. Softly he rubbed Idan's shoulders which he found elicited no response. "You're not one for cuddling after you fuck, are you?" Kahnso sniggered.

"I hate you," Idan shuddered, daring not to look back at the fox. "What more could you possibly want from me?"

"Good point, it's gonna be like a hotdog in a hallway back here now," Kahnso sneered. To emphasize his remark, Kahnso braced his paws on the weasel's hips. Idan began to shout to the contrary but before he could, Kahnso popped his fat knot free and the weasel let loose with a sharp cry and a yank on the sheets, ripping through them with his claws.

Testament to the weasel's brokenness was that Kahnso was able to dismount both he and the bed without Idan moving besides curling in upon himself. As he pulled up his jeans, Kahnso said in a tone worrisomely removed from his cruel playfulness, "I'm going back to my bus. Listen good, peacenik." Idan wearily looked to the side and he regarded Kahnso with his tired, bloodshot eyes. Kahnso showed a brief smirk. "You try to tell anybody this happened, you bring this up anywhere, and you're gonna wish you had my knot up your asshole again. I'll fucking kill you and dump your carcass in a sinkhole."

Before Idan would have defied Kahnso even if he believed the spoiled rockstar's threats. Raped and raw as he was, he hid his face and Kahnso scoffed.

"That's right," the fox said in a low growl. Never one to leave well enough alone, he smacked Idan on the ass as he walked by. To his disappointment the weasel barely flinched and made no sound. With that he left. Idan wouldn't leave his room for the rest of his stay.