[Mordenheim]

(Warnings:  This story is furry in nature and also deals in extreme violence.  If either of these is not your cup of tea, you have been warned.  Enjoy my first foray into the realm of macro-horror.)

Destruction can be Beautiful

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Celine shivered nervously as she sat backstage. Her paws were trembling as she carefully laced the silver satin ballet slippers onto her dainty black hindpaws.

This was it. For years she had been told she wasn’t good enough. That she was too thin, or too short, or just not talented enough. This was her night to make it big.

She reached back into her bag, her tall, delicately pointed ears twitching this way and that. She could hear the music being played for other auditioning dancers. Her sensitive vulpine nose picked up the scent of nervousness and fear coming from everywhere, herself included. Smiling softly, her full, fluffy tail swishing behind her, she pulled out the beautiful choker she had received in the mail that morning.

The petite, russet furred vixen had nearly jumped out of her skin when the post fur had knocked on her door. She had been up all night pacing the floors, her nervousness and excitement keeping her from sleep.

Relieved to have some sort of distraction, she chatted with the post fur for a while. In fact, they talked for so long that the poor kangaroo femme was afraid she might lose her job if she didn’t get back to work. Sighing, Celine apologized for putting her so far behind schedule before signing for the package and bidding her new friend a good day.

When she first held it in her paws, it had seemed strangely heavy, though it seemed to grow lighter as she carried it across the room. She sat the box on the table a moment, looking at it. It was just a plain, brown, cardboard box. Her name and address had been written on a white card attached to the top in a beautiful, even copperplate. She carefully picked the box up again, turning it over gently in her slender, graceful paws. Again, it seemed very light for its size, about a foot on each size. There was no return address to be found.

She opened the box, digging through what seemed to be a small sea of foam packing peanuts. Hidden within was a small, black, leather-bound box. It was long and narrow, bound shut by a silver ribbon. Attached to the box was another white card, written in the same delicate copperplate.

Let the music fill you.
Your confidence will grow.

She carefully slid off the ribbon and opened the box, letting out a soft gasp of surprise. Within the box was a beautiful black velvet choker. Attached to it was a small charm, designed to rest at the hollow of her throat, shaped like a silver treble clef.

Smiling softly to herself, she wrapped the lovely gift slowly around her neck, carefully fastening the clasp at the side. She shivered a little as she felt a strange tingle of energy flow through her. Her fear and nervousness quickly faded away, replaced by confidence and a rush of excitement.

Tilting her head, she listened to the music of the dancer before her. She could literally feel the nervousness of the fur without even being able to see her. Sighing impatiently, she stowed her bag inside a waiting locker, locked it, and quickly made her way backstage to wait for her turn.

Dominic groaned inwardly. Never before had he held such an audition. He seemed forced, no, cursed to see every mediocre or just horrible dancer in three states. He sighed and rolled his amber eyes as the feline on stage stumbled for the third time in as many minutes. Unable to take any more, he leaned over to the microphone next to him and barked out a brusque, “Next!”

The little tabby on stage stumbled again at his sudden shout before bursting into tears and running to the backstage area. He had been expecting that reaction. In fact, a part of the lupine took a cold pleasure in breaking the spirits of performers who he felt did not belong on the stage.

Dominic leaned back in his chair, savoring the moment before reluctantly returning to the list of dancers sitting before him. Forty-nine dancers and not a one of them had been worthy of his work. Still, one or two were passable, and the sight of just one more name on the list cheered him somewhat. It meant that this long day of torturing himself with amateurs was nearly over. Smiling inwardly at the thought of leaving for the night and possibly taking one of the untalented hopefuls back to his apartment for a quick fuck, he leaned back to the microphone and called the final name.

“Celine Lebeaux.”

Celine was shaken from her reverie by the sound of her name. Smiling with anticipation and eager to perform, she rushed right out onto the darkened stage. The footlights had been extinguished per her request so the light wouldn’t dazzle her eyes from below. Pausing for a moment, she pulled back her long, brunette hair into a tight ponytail; the base of hick reached the base of her tail, and tied it back with the silver ribbon from the box. A single spotlight swung around to focus on her, encircling her lean, athletic frame with a brilliant radiance. She curtsied gracefully to her unseen director, her thick, gleaming tail swaying behind her. She closed her eyes, taking a long, deep breath as she slowly raised en Pointe and waited for the music to begin.

Dominic smiles to himself as he let his eyes wander over the vixen’s form. He had found his conquest for tonight. Even if her dancing was a terrible as all the others he had suffered through that night, it didn’t matter. He would tell her that she had won the part and take her out for a night on the town. Chucking, he reminded himself that those with the least talent on stage often had the most talent in the bedroom. He had just begun to reminisce about some of the more talented notches in his bedpost when he heard the music swell and the dance began.

The music was soft and low, almost mournful somehow. She carefully remained balanced on the toes of one hind paw as she slowly bowed forwards. Her other leg gradually extended behind her as she spread her arms out at her sides. The strange music played on, not seeming to mourn the past, but rather that which was still to come. At the sudden trill of a flute, she spun around on her toes and quickly flipped backwards, landing lightly in a crouch before rising en Pointe once more.

Dominic gaped at her from the shadows, stunned by her easy grace. His ears twitched at the strange music she was dancing to. It was not one of the songs from his production at all. What nerve and confidence it must have taken to go on her own and pass out music to the orchestra without his permission. A quick glance below the stage, however, told him he was mistaken.

The orchestra pit was empty.

Celine smiled and turned, losing herself to the dance, letting the strange music flow through her, into her. She could feel its power caressing her, coaxing her. She knew it would not let her falter or fall. She felt comforted, confident. She let it flow into her, filling her until she felt she might burst if it was not released.

She never missed a step as she let out a low moan of pleasure. She felt the spandex material of her top tighten over her ample chest. He shorts slowly began to rise higher, tightening over her muscular thighs as they slid away from her knees. The hole cut in the rear of her shorts tightened around the base of her tail, the sensation nearly causing her to falter. The sound of tearing cloth reached her ears. Glancing down, she saw the ribbons of her slippers tighten almost painfully over her swelling calf muscles, sinking into her fur before they burst and fell away. She spun and kicked, sending one slipper flying high into the catwalks before leaping through the air and repeating with the other. The feel of her bare hindpaws on the cool pine boards seemed to energize her even more as she continued to dance.

Dominic watched all of this with a mixture of fear and awe. Her rapidly shrinking clothing revealed more and more of her athletic form. He squirmed uncomfortable in his seat, his paw sliding over his crotch. He moaned in a mix of pleasure and pain, his erection struggling against the zipper of his trousers, gazing down at Celine as the last of her clothing finally burst from her muscular body.

She sat gracefully on the stage, her huge form causing the wood to creak and crack as she drew her knees up to her forehead, hiding her face and wrapping her thick tail around her slender hindpaws. The strange music, which had been coming from the charm at her neck, slowly faded to a murmur.

Dominic rushed down through the darkened auditorium. More than once he tripped in his mad rush, stumbling over seats and tripping over stairs. He scrambled up onto the stage and locked his eyes on the vixen. Though she was sitting, she still towered at over twice his height. He had just reached out a paw to brush her silky fur when the music began to rise once more, causing her to grow even more rapidly than before.

He cried out in horror, watching her ear tips rising higher and higher, her rapid expansion causing her to fill the stage. He let out a soft yelp as he tripped, tumbling back to fall on his tail, having stumbled over the torn remains of her top.

Before he could react, Celine’s plush rear had grown to the point that it covered his hindpaws and lower legs, pinning him in place. He felt the pressure slowly increasing on his legs as the wall of fur and flesh moved inexorably towards him. He let out a scream of pain, the wet popping sensation of his joint beginning to dislocate jarring through his body. He could feel the individual muscle fibers flatten and tear as they were forced to either side of his femur, just seconds before they shattered with a noise similar to a double gunshot.

Worse than all of this, though, was the insidious increase of pressure. The blood that had been forced from his lower body had worked its way up into his chest, arms and face. His veins began to swell and bulge hideously, visible even through his thick fur. He let out a soft. Bubbling cry as he felt his pelvis shatter. His stomach began to balloon outwards as he gave one last feeble attempt at escape. Then, at last, something ruptured within him. A jet of blood and bile flew from his muzzle as the giantess finally covered him entirely.

The music began to grow louder as the stage creaked and groaned. The wood beneath her finally shattered, filling the auditorium with the scent of antique pine. Then, the refrain finally over, the vixen began to rise gracefully as the melody began once more.

Furs lined the streets outside the theatre. They had heard music coming from within before, but never so loud or so hauntingly beautiful. They stood in rapture, listening as the huge brick building began to crack and break apart from within. Huge chunks of rubble began raining down upon the crowd. Many of the furs closest to the building were instantly crushed, their deaths quick and painless.

Chaos overtook the surrounding streets. A driver trying to avoid the falling debris lost control. His red convertible careened onto the sidewalk, plowing through dozens of dazed, unmoving furs. When his car finally came to a stop, he looked in horror at the destruction around him. Blood was everywhere; bits of flesh and fur were spattered across his windshield. He turned to his right, only to see the mangled, severed head of a feline staring accusingly at him with its one remaining eye. It almost seemed to be snarling at him since the flesh covering its sharp, white teeth had been torn away in ragged strips. He turned to the heavens, hoping to ask the gods for forgiveness for what he had done. Instead, he saw the underside of a goddess’ hind paw as it bore down upon him, silencing his pitiful cries.

Her head rose high into the night sky as the building collapsed around her. She shed the theatre as a butterfly sheds a cocoon: caterpillar to butterfly, dancer to deity. The world was truly her stage. The moon was her spotlight, the stars her unblinking audience.

The music began to swell once more and her body responded in kind. Her shoulders rapidly filled the gap between the skyscrapers on either side of her as her growing hind paws were pushing a mound of rubble into the street. She spun her beautiful, expanding body rapidly, the moonlight shining off of her fur. The buildings at her sides and back were reduced to little more than dust by her arms, hair, and tail.

She spun and danced through the night without a care. Her eyes were blind to the destruction she had caused, her ears deaf to the pleas of the dying below her. Her mind was lost, swimming in a sea of power and music. Her every leap and twirl caused building all around her to implode, toppling to the ground, burying thousands of furs alive in her wake.

Finally, as dawn neared, the music began to build again. She spun and leapt madly through the ruins of the city, grinding what remained on the ground into dust. She felt as though her heart was about to burst, the music flowing through her, becoming part of her. Her body had been reformed into the vulpine ideal; her motions were precise and stunning. At last she was unable to bear it anymore. As the music reached its climax, she threw back her head and unleashed a haunting cry. The sheer force of her call shattered windows throughout the state.

Suddenly, the music ended. The giantess stood proud and silent within the rubble, her awe inspiring form silhouetted by the breaking dawn. Then, just as suddenly as the music ended, she collapsed like a puppet whose strings were cut. The impact of her titanic body striking the ground caused terrific shockwaves, leveling every building still standing within sixty miles.

Johnathan sighed with sorrow as he looked over the ruins of the city. The tall lion shrugged his heavily lined fire coat over his broad shoulders and tucked his thick mane beneath his helmet. For three days they had been sifting through the rubble hoping to find a survivor. Hoping to find someone who could tell them what had happened here.

It was getting close to sunset when he began to sift through the rubble of what was once a Broadway style theatre. To his surprise, his sensitive ears picked up the sound of someone breathing somewhere within the mound of brick and mortar. He began digging furiously, ignoring the horrible cuts and gashed that the pieces of wreckage were slicing from his paws.

Amazingly, beneath the pile of stone the interior of the theatre was relatively intact. He made his way slowly through the shattered glass of the ticket booths and into the auditorium itself.

At first it seemed pitch black within, but a moment later his eyes adjusted to the gloom. The massive room was lit in places by shafts of moonlight that shone through the broken ceiling.

He picked his way carefully through the rubble, making his way down towards the stage. The breathing was coming from down there; he could hear it more clearly with every step. He paused for a moment, fumbling in his pocket for his flashlight, turning it on and shining it down towards the stage.

Cutting through the gloom, the beam illuminated the shattered remains of the stage. A huge hole was broken straight through the center of it where it seemed a large chunk of the ceiling caved in. Sitting right on the edge of the stage was a petite young vixen, her knees drawn up over her face, her tail wrapped tightly around her hindpaws.

“Hello!” he called down to her. The vixen did not even twitch. Thinking she must be in shock, he shouted, “Hold on! I’ll climb down to you!” as he started climbing over the shattered remains of a massive chandelier.

Unfortunately, he lost his balance and began tumbling head over heels down towards the stage. He stopped with a jarring thus and cried out in agony, his paws going to his right thigh. His powerfully muscled leg had been impaled upon a long, slender length of brass tubing broken off of the chandelier. A falling chunk of stone had struck it just as he landed, bending it to the side and effectively pinning him in place. In spite of his own agony, however, he could not help but gaze over to the poor vixen who must have been trapped down there for days.

Slowly, the vixen stirred. A shaft of moonlight cast her in a spotlight of pure silver. Slowly opening her eyes, she gazed at him, smiling. Her eyes had changed. They were now a solid, soulless black. Her own soul had been lost in her frenzy of beauty and destruction, leaving her empty, nothing more than a vessel waiting to be filled. She gracefully raised en Pointe once more. Her beautiful, nude form shimmering in the moonlight the last thing her brave rescuer would ever see. The strange music began to play once more, echoing from the charm at her throat.

She let the music fill her.

[Quadhouse]

I remember reading this.  Still love it.

[Mordenheim]

Erg, I didn't realise I had already posted this here once..

*blushes*  Sorry…

[AlexG]

Erg, I didn't realise I had already posted this here once..

*blushes*  Sorry…

No need to apologize – its good stuff!  8)

Any chance that there will be a continuation?

“I like a good story well told. That is the reason I am sometimes forced to tell them myself.”
~ Mark Twain / Samuel Clemens (1907)

[Anonymous]

Excellent story!! A small continuation would be welcome!!

[Author]

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