Jump Training: Suicide on the installment plan
_Authors note:
I found this story lurking in an old backup while I was trying to trace a long abandoned game save. Five minutes work and it was finished! It's not my best work and it is a little silly, but it's a FUN story. I hope you like it, and PLEASE leave a comment._
Jump Training
Six thousand feet and dropping, the thirty year old fox whooped with excitement as he plummeted towards the ground. His long reddish-brown tail pointed straight in the air, the air resistance pummelled his powerful chest and made his fur stand on end. No matter how many times he jumped, the exhilaration never seemed to lessen. He ran through the final checks, and yanked the ripcord with familiar ease. Nothing happened.
No matter how often he pulled the string, the parachute would not deploy. The ground. was rushing up to meet him, and it would not be a happy reunion at terminal velocity The air resistance crushed against his chest as he made himself as large as possible, but it did little to slow his descent. The ground continued to race towards him, ignoring soon-to-be former parachute instructor Daryl Glen's frantic yelling.
He pulled the reserve chute, and was yanked upright as it deployed. The straps dug into his shoulder and hurt him, but Daryl considered this better than dying. He looked up to check that the canopy was secure and untangled, and was just in time to see the straps give way, releasing him to gravity once more. It seemed another fine opportunity for a good scream, and Daryl made the most of it.
It is at times like this that a person discovers religion. Daryl had been an atheist as long as he could remember. Those that got all spiritual about what Daryl considered to be little more than suicide on the instalment plan always made him feel uncomfortable. For him, It was all about the sheer thrill of doing something that should be fatal and staying alive afterwards.
Random thoughts bubbled to the stories as he desperately tried to think of a way to escape his certain doom. His mind raced and presented him with something that had happened during his first jump.
He could remember it almost as though it happened yesterday. He'd been just another nervous kid on the adventure day of a lifetime. He'd bombarded the grizzled old instructor with questions. The old wolf, who was checking and packing the kit for their tandem jump, moving with brisk efficiency as he tested every link and every strap to ensure it was up to the job.
Daryl had insisted on running through every possible outcome before he would even leave the hanger. What if the 'chute snagged on the plane on the way out? What if the harness snapped? What if the parachute didn't work properly? And what if the reserve 'chute failed to open.
The wolf had finished off his preparations by the time Daryl had asked that last question. The instructor checked the coast was clear before speaking, glancing over his left and then his right shoulder.
"The only way both 'chute's will fail at the same time is if somebody cut the ropes or something. If it ever DOES happen, then there is only one way to survive..."
"Which is?"
"Beg Satan to save you."
Daryl had begun to laugh. It was cut off when the wolf grabbed him by the throat and pushed him against the wall.
"Listen to me, you little shit!"
The wolf hissed at him through clenched, bared teeth.
"I'm the parachute trainer, you're just some random newbie. I was a paratrooper while you were still fighting over the red crayon back in kindergarten. If I say something works, then you can bet your ass it works. I say that if both 'chutes fail your only option is to pray to Satan, so you WILL do that if you want to live. Understand?"
Daryl had nodded, but only because he wanted to prevent any more violence. In the bar after his first jump it had all seemed silly, and he had just written it off as a joke. It wasn't so funny now.
Clutching at straws, he mumbled a quick prayer to God. Nothing happened. He decided that it was time to see if that old wolf had been talking out of his canopy.
"Save me, Satan!"
The effect was immediate. He slowly stopped falling. The wind stopped pummelling him and he stared wide-eyed at the ground, which had stopped rushing towards him. He was hovering peacefully hundreds of feet in the air, which was pause for considerable thought.
The fox rubbed his eyes, wondering if fear had dislodged his sanity. When he opened them once again, the floor was gone. He was in a large cave of grey stone lit by many torches fixed to the wall. The ground beneath his feet was covered in fine black sand, almost an inch deep.
"Welcome to my - not again!"
Daryl looked in the direction of the voice. Standing in front of a big, black throne covered in symbols that looked like runes was a tall, thin fox wearing an Armani suit. His eyes burned like hot coals, and were the same colour. His fur was impossibly red, every strand a different shade of the same colour, ranging from coral pink to crimson. He was examining himself, turning his paws over and looking at the back.
"Mortals! No imagination!" said Lucifer, in a cultured English accent. "I'm always either nine feet tall and holding a trident, or I'm a slightly effete lawyer! Why can't anybody ever be different?"
He smoothed down his suit, which didn't particularly need smoothing down and then gave Daryl a friendly smile, showing a row of clean, white teeth.
"Hallo Daryl, great to have you here. I'm known in the paradise and damnation trade as Satan, Lucifer, The Great Beast and so on. You can call me Nick."
"Wh-where am I?"
"You could call this my local office. Tell me Daryl, have you ever considered the amazing benefits of being a full-time worshipper of yours truly?"
Daryl shook his head slowly.
"You really should! You don't even have to sell your soul to me. In return for any help that I might need in your local area, I'll grant you anything you could wish for. All you have to do is drop a hint to the familiar I'd give you, and then you'd have it."
"I - I'm sorry, uh, Nick. Thank you for saving me, but I'd rather just go home if that's OK."
"Later, Daryl. I just saved your life, the least you could do is hear me out. I can't force you to do anything. Really. The guy upstairs gave you all free will, and I can't mess with that. One of His more foolish decisions, I've always thought. On the other hand, I can do just about anything else. I will lie, cheat, deceive and cast illusions, or whatever it takes to make sure you are happy. All it would cost you is a small favour now and again"
Daryl shook his head once again.
"Thank you, but no."
The Devil folded his arms and thought for a moment. Daryl stared at his feet and listened to the silence.
"Ah! I know..." said Satan, snapping his fingers.
A small, oily drop of black liquid fell from the ceiling and splashed upon the dusty floor. Immediately, thick smoke boiled out from the moistened ground and an impenetrable cloud six feet in diameter coiled and writhed. Daryl stared as the cloud began to implode, coalescing into a large creature with horns that was kneeling upon the floor. The large head was focused on a point in front of the feet of it's master. Between the large, round ears were a row of short, viciously curved horns, metallic in colour but somehow living.
"Master..." it rumbled, in a deep, harsh voice that seemed to fill the cave.
Satan glanced at Daryl and smiled.
"Retil is one of my many servants, and he's very good at what he does. Perhaps if he shows you how rewarding working for me can be, I might be able to change your mind."
Daryl swallowed once more, his mouth suddenly feeling as though he were chewing cotton.
"Retil! Show this young fox what a good succubus you really are."
Succubus? Thought Daryl, as the creature climbed to it's feet. I thought they were female?
The Devil grinned.
"A succubus is a fiend that fucks males." He said, conversationally. "If I say they don't have to be female, they don't have to be female."
The succubus in question bowed to the Fallen Angel and slowly turned it's head. Daryl stared in horrified fascination at the creature. It bore a casual resemblance to a rat, but it was at least seven feet tall and far more muscular. Tendons and veins stood out from Retil's arms and legs, and it's long whiskers were as thick as parachute cord, protruding from a muzzle that was a darker shade of orange than the lighter fur around it's stomach and chest. The fur swayed in a breeze that he couldn't feel, and the tail swished idly from side to side.
Daryl backed away, until his head struck the wall of the cavern. He had flirted with bisexuality in college, but he had not been fucked by another guy for many years. He didn't want to be touched by this giant, who could clearly tear his throat out with two fingers if it chose to.
The succubus looked him up and down, licking his lips. It was wearing nothing but a predatory smile as it advanced towards him. He was helpless to prevent his gaze heading south, past the heavily muscled torso to the demon-rat's cock. It was the biggest Daryl had ever seen, and it was fully erect.
It was thick, and thirteen inches long if it was an inch. It was twice as big as the biggest guy he had ever taken at college, even including that guy's knot. He balled his fists, feeling terrified but determined to defend himself as best as he was able.
I'll be damned if I'll just stand here and let it rape me, Daryl thought, fighting to control his breathing.
The Devil shook his head and tutted to himself.
"Oh, don't be silly, Daryl. Trust me, you'll love this. And Retil is very much a "he", not an "it"
"But he's fucking huge!" snapped Daryl, "Besides, I don't want him!"
The Devil put his arm around the fox's shoulder and squeezed,
"Don't try to lie to me, Daryl. You can't kid a kidder. I can read your mind, including the stuff that you try to hide from yourself. And I wouldn't let Retil rape you. That would defeat the object! Here, this might help..."
Satan snapped his fingers, and suddenly Daryl felt different. He was walking on fluffy pink clouds, and everything was perfect. He felt so good, above and beyond the common herd. He could do anything he wanted and nobody could stop him. All the little rules and ethical codes no longer applied to him. It felt like a drug trip, but it was far better than that.
"What did you do to me?" asked Daryl, with what was left of his senses.
"Oh, just a little mood enhancer. It takes away all your emotions bar my favorites, lust and pleasure. It's a little something I'm going to be unleashing topside in a couple of years, make sure all those teens are nice and uninhibited."
Daryl nodded slowly. He didn't really care all that much. All he cared about was satisfying the sudden yearning for sex. In the back of his mind, he wondered if this is what if felt like to be in heat. He remembered Retil, and pushed aside the questions for now. He had more important things to do.
Daryl took a hesitant step towards the rat succubus, and then another. His eyes were fixed upon the long, thick cock as he approached, licking his lips. Pure lust danced in his eyes as he stood before Retil, completely unconcerned by his own nakedness. He reached out and encircled the base of the rat's cock with one paw. The girth was such that his claw tips barely touched as he slid his paw up the shaft. It was already lubricated by the unknown moisture, and the rough pad glided easily towards the tip. The monstrous rat rumbled appreciatively as Daryl masturbated him, his face still wearing a slightly dazed expression and a cheerful smile.
Daryl continued to trace the outlines of the pencil-thick veins with one paw. With his left paw now free, he rested one of the heavy round testicles in his palm and began to stroke it like a fairground medium trying to read the future. This too seemed to please Retil; his tail was lashing from side to side in time with Daryl's expert touch.
Daryl himself was having an excellent time. He felt so free, so unconfined. He felt like a god, to whom the humdrum rules and moral guidelines no longer applied. His smile widened as he saw the affect he was having upon this rat. Already, a trickle of watery grey pre-cum was slipping out of the urethral slit on the head of it's cock.
"Do you like this, Retil?" he asked, as though enquiring about the weather. He was answered by another growl that reverberated through his own body and along the arms of Daryl.
"This is good, fox." Said Retil, showing three rows of carnivore teeth. "But this is not what I am here for."
"Oh?" replied Daryl.
Without warning, the rat reached out and grabbed Daryl by the throat, holding him firmly in place. Three thick fingers of his right paw curled all the way around his neck, the claw tips gently tickling behind his long, black ears. Retil reached out with his other paw and cupped his hand under Daryl's groin. He was lifted with ease, his bodyweight supported by the paw under his balls and balanced by the one that held him perfectly still. Almost casually, the rat turned him over in mid-air and set him upon the ground, now facing away from him. The wrist of the paw around his neck was sickeningly distorted; the demon had not let go of his throat while he was turning him, and the wrist had clearly been rotated almost one hundred and eighty degrees.
This was fine and dandy by Daryl, who didn't really care about anything any more. The strongest emotion he was able to experience was mild curiosity as to what was about to happen next as Retil pulled backwards with left paw and pushed with the right, forcing him to bend at the waist. Daryl finally remembered the meaning of this gesture and smiled even wider, positively beaming with happiness as he draped his tail over his shoulder. His own cock began to harden in the small sheath of flesh and blood that protected it from the outside world. The pink tip slid out, and Daryl allowed his anus to relax. The demon slid his left paw underneath the fox's stomach, and Daryl was lifted from the ground once more. His arms and legs swung in small circles as he felt a hard cock rubbed against his tail hole.
"Do you like this, Daryl?" grinned Retil, smearing his natural lubricant all over the warm entrance. Already, it was slippery with the dark red substance. Beneath his tail and around his buttocks, his fur was plastered flat by it.
It felt good, and Daryl said so. His cock had fully emerged from his sheath, and a small knot was growing against Retil's finger. He breathed deeply, inhaling a heady mix of dry earth and the powerful smell of rat musk. He realised he had almost forgotten Satan, who was watching the display with an unreadable expression on his face. His chin lowered momentarily, and the pressure on his tailhole increased.
Daryl gasped as his tailhole resisted the intruder, trying to crush the invader before it could enter him. The lubricant he had been smeared with swept such simplistic defences aside with ease, and slowly, inexorably, his bowels were penetrated. Even in his current state, the thick, hard cock was much more than Daryl was accustomed to, and he couldn't stifle a few whimpers as the rat guided more and more of his length further into the fox. He had taken nine inches now, and his discomfort was growing.
The whimpers seemed to trigger Retil's sadistic side; the remaining four inches were pushed home in one hard thrust, his testicles knocking against those of Daryl. Daryl was crushed against the paw that held his stomach, which was being used to pull him close and feed every last millimetre as far inside as it would go. Tears sprang into his eyes, and he yelped and whined softly until his body adapted to the enormous intruder. Retil remained hilted as he allowed the fox to get used to him, enjoying the pleasure of the warm, tight clamp around his penis.
Daryl breathed in more dust and rat musk, and he remembered the techniques that had served him well at college. He let out a ragged exhalation and willed himself to relax. His body went limp in the rat's paws, and the pain faded. Enjoyment replaced the discomfort as the rathood pressed against his prostrate. To distract himself, he gripped his cock tightly and began to paw off.
Retil took this as a signal to continue, and began to withdraw from the fox. His cock slowly eased out until a mere six inches remained buried, and then eased it back with exquisite care. To Daryl, it felt as though his guts were being pulled out with them, but the pleasure came back again and again. Unable to help himself, his hips bucked forward a few times as he humped the air. Retil began to make small circles with his hips every time he hilted his cock, stimulating the overstretched anus even further.
Retil's throaty growls of pleasure seemed to melt into one long, continuous purr. Daryl felt time slipping away, and he felt no concern about this. Retil's cock was the only thing he was thinking about, imagining what it must look like spearing him like a fish. A steady trickle of pre-cum lubricated his ass, making it easier for Retil to thrust harder and harder into Daryl.
Daryl's knot grew larger as he jerked off, tying with a bitch that didn't exit. Daryl was the bitch, and he was loving every moment. Daryl simply hung in those powerful paws, surrendering himself to the attentions of the incubus. His body was almost numbed by the intense heat between his ribs and his thighs, and he moaned and groaned his way to a body trembling orgasm. His semen splashed onto the dust, evaporating almost instantly. By now, Retil's growls had become roars, his breathing fast and heavy and smoky. He was enjoying his job immensely, as the scalding hot pre scorching his large intestine testified.
Retil clutched Daryl to his chest, the smoke from his breath making the fox cough. With a final, triumphant growl he withdrew, pumping his seed deep inside. The first two ropes of semen washed into his guts, the third covering his stretched tailhole and the fourth and final one squirted all over his inner thighs. Daryl fought for breath as Retil lowered him to the ground and gave him a friendly pat across the shoulders that almost knocked him to the ground. Daryl could still feel Retil inside him, a kind of after-image in his distended passage, which was oozing with cum and only just beginning to close up once more.
"Now please don't do me the disservice of trying to pretend you didn't enjoy that. Did you?"
Daryl was still walking on fluffy pink clouds, and those clouds were now bathed by a post-coital glow.
"Yep. Thanks Retil!"
He turned to wave, but Retil had returned from whence he came. Daryl faced Satan once more and shrugged happily.
"Oh, enough of that already. It doesn't count unless you sign up without duress."
And with that, he snapped his fingers impatiently. The pink clouds vanished instantly, to be replaced by the embarrassment, fatigue, nausea and sore tailhole of a long party in dubious company. He blinked, wondering exactly what you say to somebody who just watched you strip naked and have messy, uninhibited sex with a total stranger. It was hardly the kind of thing they mention in etiquette books, other than "Don't Let This Happen."
"It's quite simple," said Satan. "In return for a lifetime of dedicated service, furthering my evil schemes and expanding the reign of blah, blah, blah I will give you anything your little heart will desire. You liked Retil? He's yours, he'd welcome a little time topside. You prefer females, I can oblige you. Heck, if you just want money and power I can arrange matters. Just crack out the A negative and sign on the dotted line"
His infernal majesty held out a scroll, written in Latin and bearing a decorative pentagram logo. Daryl ran through the options, trying to ignore the seed slowly drying onto his fur and dripping onto the floor. He could have anything he wanted, but was it worth the price?
It was an easier decision than he expected. A lifetime of fun wasn't all that long when compared to an eternity of suffering, and there wasn't anything he didn't have that he couldn't get for himself one day. Besides, having everything handed to him on a platter would take all the fun out of it. If he really wanted the likes of Retil again he could start dating horses, if he was ever that desperate.
He decided the best approach would be to be polite to somebody who could do horrible, horrible things to him if he chose to.
"Um, thank you, but I don't think I can accept. Sorry, sir."
Satan did not appear too surprised.
"Well, are you sure, my boy? You are? No matter. Don't worry, reprisals would be bad for business. I'll make sure you get to the ground safely."
The cave melted. One moment he was standing on solid rock, the next he was falling through red mist. He resumed his former screaming as he plummeted to earth once more. This time, he had company.
Satan's face was huge, seeming to fill the sky above him. He could see right up his nose as he fell towards earth, the updraught pushing against his back. Satan appeared to be grinning.
Daryl span in the air and watched the ground, which was impatient for an introduction. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something rush in and underneath him. The uprushing wind ceased immediately, and the sensations of speed, descent and sheer terror quickly faded. His first thought was a strange one:
I would have expected Evil Incarnate to have had rougher paws
He was lowered carefully to the ground, and he climbed out of the palm of the Devil's hand upon trembling legs. It vanished, leaving a faint smell of brimstone in the air. Daryl looked around at the muddy green field and breathed in the odour as though it were the finest perfume. Everything was so colourful, so impossibly beautiful in the sunlight. He always felt like this after a jump, but the pure pleasure of continuing to exist was one that had never featured in his life before.
He looked up in the sky, where he could still see the plane he had jumped from, banking gently as it returned to the airstrip. He took another deep breath, which smelled more of countryside than of infernal regions. Only the snapped cords of his parachute told him that it wasn't a dream. Despite everything, he had survived unscathed.
"Thank God for that."
Suddenly, the grass around him darkened. Daryl glanced up, expecting to see a cloud obscuring the sun. He didn't expect to see a giant foot descending towards him. He had time to utter the beginning s of a scream before the enormous pad crushed the life out of him with a sickening crunch of bones and a moist "fpltch"
"Ungrateful little bastard!" Boomed the voice of Satan as he wiped his footpaw on the grass, leaving a red trail of Daryl all over the green carpet.
"Huh, 'Thank God for that', indeed"