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The rubbery howl of the wild by How2101 (critique requested)

The rubbery howl of the wild (critique requested)

How2101

The suit seemed innocent enough at first.


Well, as innocent as a random package left at your doorstep can be.


You pull the squeaky suit out of the suprisingly small package. Is it made of . . . rubber? The material seems to shine and glimmer in the light of your living room. That makes the package even more odd - who would make a lycanroc suit out of rubber? some sort of crazed fetishist?


Somehow, despite the rubbery sheen, the suit looks oddly realistic - to a fault, in fact. the legs looked uncomfortably quadrepedal, with little room for fingers or toes within the 3-fingered paws. The odd, inhuman body porportions looked like it couldn't fit a human being at all.


Yet, you couldn't put the costume down. You couldn't quite explain it - but the more you stared at the lycanroc suit, the more . . . appealing it felt. The plush, pink rubber interior looked suprisingly comforting the longer you looked at it. Thoughts flickered through your head -


what if you wore it, just for a second? Just for a minute?


Just forever?


the rubber encasing your entire body - your limbs compressed into those canine legs - running wild, free from pesky human necessities like stress or a job or breathing.


Breathing????


You're not sure why that thought ran through your head.


But what the heck, you think, let's give it a go. What could go wrong? You probably won't even get the entire thing on, right?


your right foot slides uncomfortably into the right hind leg, it's awkard stance throwing you off balance. You squirm, hopping on one foot as pain shoots through your leg, dulled and soothed by the suprisingly warm, soft embrace of rubber padding.


Nevertheless, it's a throbbing, tough struggle to fit your leg into a naturally inhuman stance - but once it settles into its presumed final position, toes squeezing and forcing themselves into the 3 black, rubbery claws lining the cream-colored paws, it's as if they were naturally that way to begin with.


The pain dissappears, replaced by a soft, pleasant tingle and . . . normalcy. More than it has simply always been this way - it was MEANT to be this way. This urge is powerful enough that A deep, instinctual part of your brain is beginning to register your right costumed leg as the default, compared to your left one even as most of your brain is still sending alarm signals throughout your body.


But, you fight it off. It's just a costume! You'll just take it on and off, no one will see you with it on! You totally won't be the laughingstock of your peers . . . no, this isn't the beginning of some new addictive fetish . . . right?


Against your brain's warnings, you decide to push forwards, sliding in your left foot into the pink, plushy rubber interior. Against the pain, you feel an odd yet refreshing satisfaction as it seals into place, rubber packed so tightly against it you probably couldn't get it out if you tried.


But that's nothing, right? You could always use scissors if you have to. And the tight feel is simply for a more realistic look! You ignore the fact that your feet couldn't possibly be long enough to match the extended canine feet - and yet they are. The longer you wiggle them, the more natural they feel. The more comfortable, the more cozy, Llke your feet were always meant to be covered by an inch of thick rubber.


You're not sure if it's just your imagination, but the rest of your body's beginning to feel . . . naked by comparison. The more natural and right your legs feel, the less natural your arms and bare chest feel.


You don't hestiate when you sit down on your bed, sinking your back into the suit's open belly. You can't help but grin as the rubber closes in and then over your back and belly. You thrust your arms into the suit's clumsy forelegs, wriggling and stretching to help them reach all the way through.


You press your fingers into the suit's heavy, dull rubber claws, which seem to straighten out and sharpen as they fill out. As you do, it suddenly becomes harder and harder to remember how to use your hands at all - some mental block preventing your fingers from moving once they're locked in place within your- no, the suit's claws.


The suit's heavy canine mask comes down on your face almost on its own, filling every sense with nothing but rubber.


You see nothing but rubber.


You feel nothing butrubber.


You smell nothing but rubber.


You taste nothing but rubber, crawling through the mouth the gooey material forcefully opened.


And it feels so, so wonderful.


You're not sure why you like it, but you do. The latex pressing, squeezing your skin, pasting, molding, sculpting into the form it wants to have - no, the form YOU want to have.


It's bliss.


Simple bliss.


Simple, squeaky bliss.


You enjoy it for only a minute or so before light fills your eyes once again.


You're completely stuck inside the lycanroc suit, on your bed, in your bedroom.


Your arms and legs are splayed out in front of you like an animal's, waving uselessly in the air. Your joints and muscles are pinned helplessly beneath the tight, restricting latex of the costume, preventing any movement outside the range of a quadrepedal canine.


The zipper is closed. You don't remember closing it.


Your mind feels a little less clouded - and full of blind panic. What are you doing inside this suit?!? How do you get this thing off?!? HELP???!?!?!?


You paw at the costume's zipper with your hands, but sealed inside the costume's thick rubber padding they're about as effective as heavy winter mittens. In fact they're worse, because mittens don't have now suprisingly razor-sharp rubber claws that just mistakenly tore off the zipper's slider.


Your ensuing panic is only broken up by an odd, dull fogginess wisping through your brain. Your surroundings begin to dull, as the cheery magenta-painted walls of your bedroom begin to swirl and shift. Wh-what's going on?!?


You fumble around, limbs waving wildly in the air. You're confused why you can't operate your limbs properly - they're natural, right?


Trees and shrubbery begin sprouting up out of the floorboards as the fogginess continues to accumulate. You fall off your bed and land on . . . something soft and crumbly instead of the woolen carpet you're used to. Is that . . . dirt??


Of course it's dirt . . . why would you fall on a carpet in the forest?


No . . . this is supposed to be your house! Your life! Your body!!!


You manage to stand, shakily wobbling on all fours and looking around you in a panic. Your entire body feels queasy as the costume - looking more and more like a rubbery skin than a suit - bulges and squirms. It's as if your internal organs are rearranging themselves to truly fit the suit . . . your new skin.


As more and more features of your room vanish into nothingness, the memories blow away with it. Where's the bed??? It was here just a second ago -


. . .


. . . wait, what's a "bed"? Rubber lycanrocs don't need sleep . . .


A flood of new scents, sights, and sounds gradually fill your brain as new, heightened senses kick in. With it, a new rush of power flows through your newly sculpted rubbery canine muscles. Power beyond pathetic human strength . . .


The bedroom is gone now, replaced by a cool, vast forest. Your territory. Your domain.


To the west, you can see the red glow of the setting sun, and the moon rising in the east. Both feed your newfound, unfathomable power. They chose you, they brought you here. They blessed you with the gift of form, a form of rubber and latex and power.


And you must gift others. Bring them to your new domain. You must form a pack.


You shake your rubbery, rocky mane before giving a long, thunderous howl towards the rising moon. You can see a shimmering lake below, surrounded by acres of beautiful, untouched forest and rocky, sloping mountains.


The moon is high in the sky now, the final traces of the sun disappearing beneath the horizon. You simply stand and bask in the full light of the moon, an overwhelmingly intoxicating sensation rippling through your entire form as you embrace its light.


You wish you could stand there forever, but duty calls.


You see an empty rubber midnight lycanroc costume lying in the rocks before you. You already know what to do. Expand the pack.


You pick up the costume in your mouth, which now opens and closes on command. Strong canine fangs keep the suit in place as you run, faster and farther than you ever have before. It feels amazing as you sprint past the trees, being so engrossed in the primal thrill of running that time crawls to a blur.


You're not sure how long you've ran for when you stumble into one of the human's settlements. Ugly structures made of wood and concrete erupt from the ground like fungal sores, a blemish on the beauty of the nature around it.


You wish to yourself that you could destroy this whole place. Break it down into simple, pure rubbber, smother everything in its shiny perfectness.


But you're just one dog. These primitive creatures wouldn't understand your perfection. They'd be afraid, and by utter numbers, ruin their chances to become anything other than the feeble flesh creatures they are. How are they possibly satisfied living like that? You couldn't even imagine being one of these sickening beasts, the mere idea of being one of . . . them is utterly revolting.


You need help. You need numbers. You need a pack.


Cautiously, you place the suit on a random porch outside one of the human structures. This person would make a great host, you can tell by the scent.


Then once again you run, away from that ugly place. You run as fast as your powerful legs can thrust you through the forest. You pause on a hill overlooking the human settlement and wait.


and wait.


and wait.


finally, as the moon reaches it's peak height, you hear a long, wild howling coming from the middle of the settlement. The howl of power, of might, of midnight. You throw up your own chest and howl in response, calling out to your new packmate.



The pack is growing.

Submission Information

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631
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Rating:
General
Category:
Visual / Digital

Comments

  • Link

    Really nice perspective here! That would be quite a sight to behold... The short story was quite a fun read, as well.