I could feel my throat swell as vocal chords rubbed against each other in ways they were untrained to do. Yet I couldn’t help it as I lost myself to the crowd’s energy, the roar of cheers, the brutal pit that had formed. The lights concealed the faces, young and old, upper class, middle class, lower class, it did not matter. A homogenous mass with one purpose, to listen and see us live. We were the Wild Ones, a traveling show known for brutal concerts and even worse lyrics and noise. Jimmy on guitar learned to play during his stay in prison, Chuck I don’t know how he learned to play drums; at least he could hold a rhythm, Jackson the bassist often was called out for playing a single note and beat in every song. Yet here we were pleasing the fans, selling merch, draining their wallets with little remorse. That was what bound us together, our mutual hatred of our fans.

Yet like good masochists they bought into the lie we sold and returned for more pleasures. Tonight was slightly different as it would be our last. The frenzied mob wasn’t just for our grating music, no. Five t-shirts were thrown into the mix and whomever held them at the conclusion of our shred fest would be considered our biggest fans. Those with the shirts would be able to come find us after the show for a backstage tour as well as a private party in their honor. Like the ravenous animals that they are, blood was spilled to get a hold of those shirts, the heros of a civil war. There they are, lined up by our van ready to receive their purple hearts from their idols. It was comical, their pink t-shirts stretched over bruised, swollen, and bloody bodies with grins on each of their muzzles. 

We didn’t have much in the way of transportation and had each of the fans follow our van to the motel where our party would begin. We rented out the small motel and forced them to put up a no vacancy sign; this party would have no breaks. They funneled into the motel room and we did some preliminary signing before I brought out the party favors. Drugs of all varieties, uppers, downers, sideways, hallucinogens, stimulants, a promise of unadulterated pleasure. 

“You ready to party fuckers?” I said.

The band and fans cheered before I cranked up some music and began to dance with our lucky fans. It wasn’t long until Jackson’s stash of cocaine was brought out, a thin, ocelot, woman gladly accepted snorting it off his thigh. I couldn’t help but smile and opened up a door that separated the motel rooms to give everyone more space. Space was exactly what was called for as we began to pair off with our fans. A young tiger seemed to be attached to my hip and I gladly accepted his company in another room. 

The tiger looked satisfied now that we were alone and I turned to him with my thumb tucked into my pockets. He was a young thing, fresh out of high school, possibly an athlete as I looked over his bulky frame. He looked shy but I smiled and pulled out a flask before offering it to him. 

“Come on man, you fought tooth and nail to hang with the band. Loosen up!”

Timidly he reached for the flask before he took it and took a surprisingly long swig from it. I couldn’t help but cackle and hoot as he nearly tapped me out.

“Fuck, I’m so nervous.” he said between coughs, “I’ve never done something like this before. Partying with famous folks.”

“We are far from famous,” I smiled and walked over to the tiger, “though there is still time to become famous. We’ve been thinking about rebranding the band and all that shit.”

I paused as I noticed a scent waft from the tiger. Those blue eyes were focused on me however they were lower on my body. I chuckled and took a step forward, the tiger took a step back but felt his backside press against the cheap wallpapered wall. I took that opportunity to plant one of my hands beside his head. I leaned forward while my other hand found its way between his legs. I felt his heat radiate through the fabric in telltale arousal and it became clearer as to why he was nervous. 

“You wanna touch me too?” I said with a softness that betrayed my usual stage persona. “Nothing will be talked about this night when it is over kitty.”

I could see the tiger shake with nerves but also purr as my hand squeezed his cock through his pants. He swallowed once and then his head shot up toward my own. I recoiled at the suddenness but when I felt his raspy tongue reach my neck I cooed. It was as if the simple assurance of secrecy was the spark to ignite the gas. Hands shot forward and parted my leather jacket, claws teared at my shirt as he began to aggressively bite at my neck. Fuck me, this kid knew just what he wanted and I was ready to allow whatever fuck fantasies he had of me come flowing out. 

Flowing out it did, my blood anyway, those claws dug valleys into my chest and burned intensely. I cackled and growled and gripped his wrists to pull them away, playing an aggressive game. But the larger kid growled and suddenly lunged forward, arms spread out and flexed as I found myself on my back. Dazed, the dim light of the cheap motel glowed and swirled in my vision only to be shadowed by his body. There was a crazy look in his eye and I realized this well to do sort of kid had a deep, dark, need; he wanted to rape me. Oh what joy I felt as he ground his obscenely tented jeans against my own.

Frenzied; I nearly lost a finger when I worked a finger into his maw soon followed by the rest of my hand. His teeth dug into my flesh and made ligaments pop as he clenched down. He used his bite to immobilize my arm, vicious eyes locked on my smaller frame, I had no time to think as the bulking feline attacked. The coolness of the air bathed my legs and groins as my clothes were unceremoniously removed. Despite the sharp pain that bounced back and forth from his hot maw to the base of my tail my cock couldn’t have been harder. I growled and dared him to bite harder as I struggled beneath his pin. 

I felt flesh tear and blood flow down my wrists; forearms soaked while primal, animalistic, lust burned bright from his body. At last the piercing pressure vanished from my brutalized palm and I instinctually pulled the wound close to my chest. I gave in to defense and attempted to curl my body into the smallest shape I could muster. Unfortunately, that left me vulnerable to what the tiger ultimately sought. Naked and on my side, a shrill, panicked screech came from between my exposed fangs. A delayed sensation of burning and tearing washed my spine and caused the fur to stand on end. Wide eyes looked up at the tiger as I felt him throb inside my ass, walls clamped tighter than a fresh cunt. 

I could feel his need, that arousal, his dominance as it poured into me in harsh, muscled, waves. It felt like he had orgasmed from the simple act of dry penetration and a repressed part of my brain felt annoyed at a premature release. The thick, creamy, load coated my burning flesh in slickness that made his thick shaft squelch. His hot breathes bathed me as he used his mass to roll me onto my back, hand pinned the middle of my chest against the cheap mattress. My blood smeared over the white surface I frantically searched for anything to help protect me. It was a fruitless search that ended with a pitiful yelp as I felt him thrust and rock my body. 

“Fuck, stop.” I said.

But the words only seemed to encourage the tiger who began to take his pleasure out on my smaller body. My teeth gritted and clenched, I thought the fangs would snap under the pressure, as he continued to thump me against the mattress. I was his bitch, a play thing for him to get his pleasure. I felt my body slide backward until the top of my head was pressed tight to the head board. I could feel each beat of the wood against my skull, it rattled it while the beast snarled with unbridled fervor. I felt his shaft bloat before a second flood of his warmth entered my body, his hips ground against my ass and smashed me curled. Arched and bowed, trapped between flesh, coated, splintered, wood and wood. All of that pent up lust, lust and need to have my body. 
I felt metal tickle my good hand while I wondered just how long this tiger had fantasized about doing this. Fingers curled around a belt buckle before I slung it around the tiger’s back. I kept my intentions hidden as my claws pierced his back and made him bellow in fury. He began to brutalize my ass once more, the arch of my body a near extreme. A true feline, he didn’t seem satisfied with two orgasm and I wondered how many emissions he could reach. Vertebrate stretched to the point that I wondered if I’d walk again. It was what I needed to continue my true intentions, belt looped through a metal buckle before the end was slung around a thick rung. Once, twice, knotted, the leather would hold this tiger’s weight. He didn’t seem to notice or care about his new collar, eyes locked with mine; wild and untamable. Snarls painted my face with his spittle and for a moment I considered to let him use me longer. However, the window’s darkness had begun to show the faint signs of light.

It would need to end.

My feet hooked around his legs, I could feel folds of his leg flesh skewered by my toe claws, before I flexed them. I threw his weight forward, my forearms swiped at his wrists, and knocked him off balance and into his new collar. Black lips curled over teeth while my arms latched around his neck and pulled. That fury in his eyes pierced through the sudden choked snarls as his weight bore tight against the leather belt. It’s firm edges dug into his neck while I kept myself clenched tight. All of me; tighter than a kid’s shoelace that had tangled in a spaghetti ball of chaos. Tight enough to feel a third load pulse firmly within my bloody ass, a flood of seed of a dying man; one ignorant to the dangers. 

Fogged with lust and instinctual need those eyes began to leak that fury like an open wound. I watched the tiger shake and whip his head around bending the cheap headboard’s supports. But no my little kitty, I’m afraid this is not in your cards. I reveled watching that lusting burn bleed away to fear, the way his struggles for my body turned inward toward survival. That blindness of lust was what would doom him, already his struggles were muted as consciousness was a fleeting luxury. My body began to relax as I watched the last of that luxury fade and his body hung limp by the neck. I could still feel his body twitch, little micromuscle reactions of an asphyxiating mind. 

I’ve always wanted to do this, to a fan, and it got me hard beyond imagination. This stronger man turned to ash with such a simple tool. The fragility of life easy to shatter. I rolled from beneath the tiger’s body and reached for my jacket. I could feel joints pop, my battle scars roll with burning pain as my jacket was pulled on. I looked at the tiger, his long tail flopped like around like a snake. It might have come across as mercy, but please do not assume, I relieved his neck and arteries of the belt’s grasp and allowed desperate lungs and brain, oxygen and blood. I was pleased to see that consciousness had not returned to his mind like some sort of unholy resurrection. 

Body simply returned to its cradled grasp of the belt to continue to strangle the life from him. An eye for an eye, I crawled over his limp, twitching, legs and spread them wide. Those flexed glutes pulsed and exposed his virgin pucker to me. My hand roughly rolled against the claw marks on my chest and chipped away coagulated blood until my crimson flowed again. Coated, I lubed my cock in blood before I pushed myself into his body. A sweet, warm, embrace that seemed to respond to the intrusion. A tight rolling, massage around my cock made me bark in excitement. My hands landed on his shoulders and added more weight to his neck. The belt’s strain caused his jaw to point up, I could see the bridge of his snout as if he looked over his shoulder at me. Those eyes, the only fuck me eyes a dying man could give, spurred me on harder. I could feel the twitches of life grow rarer in his body while my thrusts grew in furocity. 

Platter, pater, splash, and dribble.

The room’s scent of blood was quickly overpowered by the musk of piss. I had thought I had fucked a fourth load out of the corpse before he succumbed, but the scent burst that fantastical bubble with swiftness. The ring of muscles relaxed around my cock and I began to take my own pleasure. It felt like a minute had passed, balls tight to my body and gave my crotch a smooth appearance. Cum flowed through my ebony length like a hose before I pulled free and shot lines of seed across the corpse. A gaped ass drooled my cream, stiff from rigor mortis, those pearl droplets pooled in oblong patches of crimson.

I could hear my breath thunderously roll from my lungs in short, ragged, puffs. While I pulled myself away from the cooling corpse I had defiled. I didn’t bother with clothing as I heard the silence of the morning throughout the motel. The muffled sound of music the only sign of any activity as I moved from my room to the next. The scent of death was heavy in the air as I passed through a quiet room. The walls had a fresh coat of paint, the blood mixed with grit of flesh dryed dark brown in the dim light. Jackson’s body sat back against the bed’s headboard, his sleeveless shirt dyed a permanent brown. He was still firm, post mortem, while a flayed corpse sat astride his lap. His slit throat did not compare to the exposed ligaments and muscles that had been degloved from the unidentifiable body. The flesh of the skull stripped back, teeth bared to the cool air in a permanent, canine, snarl. A fearsome piece of artful death, the fan’s body a perfect specimen of masculinity. Stripped away of identity, he was nothing more than a display of the perfect ratio of mortal man and power.

My feet squelched across the carpet as I entered the next room. There was a distinct freshness in this motel room, at least compared to the gorish nature of the last. The wet mugginess of old carpet was a welcomed departure from rot. I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled from it a pack of cigarettes. As I lit my fag and drew a deep inhale, I stroked my shaft as it’s vigor had returned. It felt like a perpetual afterglow, to be surrounded by death, I couldn’t be more aroused. The source of the shallow pool was apparent as I looked into the bathroom, the tub filled with water that continued to flow. Like a cascade, the water fell around two corpses, their pink shirts remained on their bodies. One female, the other male, their bodies bloated and obviously drowned early during the party. 

My lungs filled with smoke as I entered the main room and found the other fans’s corpses with their throats slit and piled on a couch. Chuck’s face looked like it was overcome with pleasure even though his jacket was filled with thin slits. His blood poured over the black leather while a hand remained around his cock.

“Stabbed himself, it was a beautiful.” Jimmy said.
 
I looked at my fellow hyena, the guitarist sat adjacent the scene of death with his cock throbbing between his legs. I sighed and flopped myself next to him and brought my snout to nuzzle beneath his jaw. The smoke of our cigarettes flowed together as we looked upon the pile of death. The morning sun spilled through the parted curtain and cast a gold line of sun across the pile. We sat in shadows and felt comfortable as we clung to the last of our dark deeds.

I sit back and flick my cigarette to the carpet, Jimmy does the same before I reach for his cock. He gasps and rolls his hips into my gentle strokes, mangled hand coated in dry blood. 

“What of you? Why are you still breathing?” I ask.

Jimmy looks at me with those eyes, his gaze filled with infatuation. His leg slung over my own popping his shaft free from my brutalized palm. He pressed himself to my chest and parted my jacket to see where the tiger had cut me. Finger’s traced over my chest, over the scabs, over fur caked in blood. I could feel his warm shaft press against my own, our pre and blood coated each other as we ground tight. I thought the hyena would try to steal a kiss but his snout moved forward to whisper in my round ear.

“I wanted to die by your hand. You’ve taken me under your wing, saved me from that cage of a prison. I want you to save me from going back.” he said.

I growled in excitement and gripped the nape of his neck. The way I pulled him back to look me in the eye. I could see acceptance, desire, love, he was a true masochist to my sadistic heart. I kept his nape held tight as I yanked him down to lay on his back while I loomed over his form. The look on his face, a naturally hardened expression, yet he looked no older than a pup when I controlled him. Just like the others, he was a wild and untamed man, a good for nothing without purpose. I gave him purpose, like a god among men, I filled his blacken heart with confident cruelty. He likened me to Santa Muerte, I didn’t care what he compared me to, but that entity was far too kind for my tastes. Besides, there was one key difference between she and I; I am mortal.

I kicked my legs between his own and adjusted my hips to draw my soiled shaft behind his balls. It was a familiar sensation, to take his ass one last time, I sunk in while he moaned and pulled a plastic bag from a breast pocket. I reached into my own pocket to pull out a clear bag as well. With little fanfare, we unfurled our instruments of death and allowed one another to crown our heads with them. He pulled a zip tie first while I pulled out two pairs of handcuffs, our ritual of death would be one to savor. Already humid breath painted the clear vinyl in thick condensation. 

I felt and heard the plastic zip itself around my neck and my next exhale ballooned the thick walls full of stale air. I did the same to him and watched the distorted image of his bag inflate and deflate with calm breath. I slid my shaft from his body and turned him to his front, hands bound by metal cuffs. I sunk myself into his hot tunnel before my hands wrapped around his torso. My own metal cuffs clicked beneath him, our bodies knotted in a deathly embrace. Already, I felt a subtle burn begin at the pit of my lungs; it excited us both. Jimmy pushed his ass back against me as I lazily began to fuck him. Our plastic covered heads brushed against each other, nuzzled each other, breathed together, suffocated together. 

“This is always what I wanted.” he said.

I flexed and pulled his body tight to mine and began to take the pleasure he had willingly given to me. We knew it had to end this way, there was no way we’d be shot by the police; such a death was impersonal. I heard him groan and the vinyl deflate across his head. Each time my own encasement closed in on my head I could see him more clearly. His eyes were closed, lips curled between a snarl and pleasure; but lacked fear. I could feel my body begin to respond to the suffocating air and fought to keep my rhythmic thrusting at an even pace. His struggles forced us to roll off the couch the inevitable body response to fight began to take hold of his body. I saw his body arch against me as his chest attempted to inhale fresh air. His leg lifted, kicked, and thumped the carpeted floor. I couldn’t help myself and began to snarl, fighting, fighting off death just long enough to achieve one last orgasm. 

I felt him kick and squirm, the chain of his cuffs bit into my fur as he pulled and flailed. Legs continued to kick, the death flails enough to squeeze my cock right off of my crotch. But such an event did not happen, instead I felt an overwhelming rush roll through my body. My balls lost their load into my twisted lover one last time. His body began to settle while we moved from the stage of desperate gulps to mere hyperventilation. Each clear bag held tight around our head, bowed between our lips and beat like subtle drums. Through the fading light of the room I could see his shaft hard as ever dribble the last of his seed into the carpeted floor. His body at rest just before my own. Darkness, a coldness, emptiness enveloped my mind yet I couldn’t shake the sensation of afterglow. 

Through the darkness I could see a hint of light, light that I felt moved to walk toward. I felt claws tear at my body; hands desperate to keep me within the dark. But I knew I needed to push past the pain, toward the light I moved. A lone journey through frost biting cold until the light simply burst open as if the universe had restarted. But somehow I knew better, I knew what I had become, I knew what my purpose was. 

My eyes opened to a charred ceiling and the scent of natural gas. Ash drifted past my nose but was not sucked into my lungs. No air filled my lungs yet I could move through the carpet of ash. The metal floor buckled and clattered under my weight as I moved to the latched shut door. Locked from the outside I shoved against the metal until it squealed like pigs at the slaughter. The metal latch popped with a clatter and allowed me to slither from the cremator like a serpent born from the ash of the Phoenix. The crematorium was sparsely decorated as I stood in the dim light of the basement. Light flooded through an ash and grit coated window that illuminated a door. 

Even though I could not see it, I knew there were cameras that could see me. I wanted them to see me. That ash I was born in lifted and billowed from the maw of the stifled inferno in a single belch before I and it vanished. I knew where I was going somewhere secluded, somewhere familiar. When my vision returned I was in the motel where I was born that wondrous night. The ash hung in the air like a thick fog, but had begun to thin as I felt a heaviness grow at my back. I looked behind me and watched the ash congeal into that of wings; wings of ash and death. They tucked themselves against my back as I walked through the roped off crime scene and looked at the patches of blood found within the three rooms. 

I felt the air shift within the room and turned around to see three other figures had appeared in silence. Their bodies mirrored my own in physique, perfectly cut and angelic; handsome. A vulture’s long and tall torso nearly stretched to the ceiling, cold, blank, and indifferent eyes pierced through me; he wore a cold, two-toned, business suit with a singular gold chain that led to a pocket watch.. The shortest among them, a coyote, thin, lithe and the cusp of sickly despite his physique smiled at me. Yet I could tell he had an aura of thirst, of wants, of needs that knew no bounds. A shire stood beside them, brilliant white fire shined bright in the setting sun light. The most angelic in looks he wore many scars across his naked torso, his wings made of swords and blades clattered as they came to rest behind him. 

“Are you the ones who spoke to me all those years?” I asked.

They nodded in unison before each stepped forward.

The horse was first to step forward, “I am Tyr the Red.”

“I’m am Riley the Black rider,” the coyote said.

The vulture however did not step forward and instead pulled out his pocket watch. He studied the time and sighed, “do I need to introduce myself? I have quite a busy schedule. I have seen him, now I must go.”

I watched the vulture walk toward a shadow and meld into the darkness before his presence had vanished. 

“Now you’ve met us, you’re one of us now.” Tyr said.

I nodded my head and scratched he base of my chin, “so it would seem considering I am not dead.”

“You are though,” Riley said with a chipper tone.

“What should I do now then?”

“Riley will stay with you and train you properly, you will be a powerful Pale rider.” Tyr chuckled.

I smiled as the coyote wandered over to me and took my hand into his own. His tail wagged at lightning speed.

“You will do what you’ve always been good at, turning the masses to follow you to their deaths. Corrupting the hungry, I will bring them to you, to help bolster our army of the dead and monstrous. We have chosen you to give a higher purpose, Darth the Pale Rider.”

I couldn’t help but grin as the coyote led me through the motel and into a shadowed hall that led to an unfamiliar grand hall. Our steps echoed against cavernous arches and domes while nearly empty pews sat silent in front of an alter. Three figures dressed in black sat silently in the front row and I felt compelled to find out who they were. My bare feet walked across the plush, red, carpet that led to the alter. I rounded the corner and the three figures looked at me, I knew their faces; Jimmy, Chuck, and Jackson.

“There he is, an emissary of the lightbringer.” Chuck said.

“Who’d a thunk our lead singer was in line with the Morningstar?” Jackson chuckled.

Jimmy remained silent, his ears lowered slightly and looked beside himself in seeing me again. Riley cleared his throat as I looked at them all in bewilderment.

“What is the meaning of this?” I asked.

“Isn’t it obvious, Darth?” Jackson said, “we are your main commanders.”

Chuck chuckled, “commanders of nothing--”

“For now,” Riley interrupted. His hands extended to the wide empty hall, “this will soon be filled with those who wish to serve you. But it will take time and training for all of you. No follow close please. I don’t want you to get lost and end up being tortured properly.”

I smiled, “Jimmy might like that.”

“Oh?” Riley laughed a cackle that put my own to shame, “there’ll be plenty of time for that. Eternity is a long time after all.”