Sablesword
TMF Master
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- Jun 13, 2001
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It's not going quickly, but here's the next part of "The Cult of Cuddles" based on a drawing & concept by Caroo.
Part 1 is here
The Cult of Cuddles, Part 2
by Sablesword
In the privacy of a library cube, Michelle pulled out the wooden disk and looked once more at the glyph burned into it. It had been almost three weeks since That Night, as she privately named it, and she didn't know what to think.
For the first several days after That Night, Michelle had been eager for the summons to return. To be mobbed and petted and tickled by a herd of friendly prey people. Then with a sudden reversal of feeling, she had made up her mind that she would refuse to return. She would return the disk to the messenger and that would be the end of it. That determination had lasted four or five days, and now she wasn't sure what she would do.
She put the disk away, hiding it deep in her purse once more. She needed advice, she decided with a flick of her tail. She would ask Vivian. Her friend played edgy games, as with that synthetic rabbit-scent perfume, but she had a firm sense of what did or did not go too far. If Vivian approved - if she turned out to belong to the Cult of Cuddles herself, for example - then it would be all right. If she didn't approve, then the Cult did go too far, and Michelle would drop it. Her decision made, Michelle gathered her books and left the library.
Finding Vivian turned out to be easier said than done. Michelle couldn't find her in the first three places she looked. On her way to the fourth possible spot, Michelle encountered a ferret, the smallest adult fem-ferret she had ever seen. Practically as small as a mouse. No, literally as small as one: She came up to exactly the same height as that mouse who had...
"Michelle Vixen?" the fem-ferret asked.
"Yes?"
The ferret held up a bronze disk, cupped in her hand. "Have you ever seen anything like this?"
The disk was inscribed with the Cult of Cuddles' glyph. Michelle dug her own wooden disk from her purse. "One like this?" she asked, showing it to the ferret.
"Exactly." The ferret's eyes burned beady-bright. "Initiate Michelle, if you are ready for the next stage, be at North Predator Entrance of the old Theater Building at 8 P.M. tomorrow night."
Michelle looked down at the ferret. "What if I'm not ready? What if I don't want anything more to do with it?" It came out more hostile than she had intended.
The ferret shrugged, deflecting the hostility. "We'll ask you three times. Then you can give that back," she nodded at the disk, "and we won't ever bother you again. This," she wiggled her fingers in a tickling gesture, "isn't for everyone, after all."
"I was just curious," Michelle apologized. The other female gave her a sharp toothed ferret smile.
"'Which is more curious, the fox or the cat?'" she quoted.
"The fox," Michelle answered at once. She was burning with a number of questions, more curious than any cat could possibly be, but she also sensed that she only had time for one. "And I have one more question: How do you like it?" She wiggled her own fingers in the tickle-gesture.
"I like both giving it and taking it," the ferret answered. Her gaze and smile both softened. Having a big strong bull in your power is nice, sometimes. Other times, turnabout is fair play." She nodded and her gaze sharpened again. "It was good to meet you Michelle. Eight P.M. tomorrow night, if you want to come." She hurried off.
Michelle stood there for a long minute. "I will go." she told herself at last. "Never mind what Vivian would say. It can't be that bad."
Michelle was at the North door of the old Theater Building a few minutes before 8 P.M., and just as she arrived the door opened to reveal the mysterious-familiar figure drenched in synthetic rabbit-scent. "Welcome, Initiate Michelle," the hooded figure said, holding the door open for her.
"Thank you." Michelle hurried inside.
"You are ready for the next step in your initiation?"
"Um, yes. Yes." Michelle made herself speak firmly.
"Good!" the rabbit-scented figure said, his voice sounding cheerful from behind the hood. "We have a few minutes yet, so just relax. Lean against me and relax. No tickling until you're properly restrained; it's one of the Commandments of the Cult. So there's no need to tense up. There. That's better."
Michelle put her arms around the hooded figure as he massaged the tension from her shoulders and back. She tried, and failed, to catch a whiff of his true scent behind that synthetic rabbit. Was he canine, feline? Racoon, maybe? Despite his height he couldn't possibly be a bear... Whatever he was, his touch was most delightfully masculine.
After the massage, the hooded male led Michelle through an inside door, down a hall, and through another door into a familiar room. This time, however, the combs, feathers and various other items of tickling and restraint were piled on the two chairs, leaving the heavy wooden table empty. Arranged around the room, a dozen figures waited, robed and hooded, but still obviously prey-furries of various types. Michelle recognized some of them from her last visit here, and their familiarity reassured her.
"Take off your shoes and socks, and sit on the table," the hooded male told Michelle. When she was in place, he took a pair of handbells and began to ring them.
"By the angels of the North and the South," he chanted as he rung the bells. "By the good spirits of the East and West. The acolytes of the Cult of Cuddles are gathered here, and the Second Ceremony of Initiation will now begin!"
With that, the robed cultists stepped forward. Prey-furries who showed no fear or revulsion toward Michelle, vixen and predator though she was. Mice, a rabbit, a hedgehog, and others with friendly hands who undressed her, combed her fur, and gently bound her with the ropes and flexible cuffs laid out for that purpose. Gently, but most efficiently, rendering Michelle completely helpless.
That was when the embarrassment ambushed her.
Michelle had expected to feel nervous, or even frightened, and had set her mind on guard against that. But she hadn't expected to feel embarrassed. Certainly not this burning hot embarrassment that made her want to crawl into a hole and die. She was a predator! And these were prey! And they had made her helpless! And she had let them! She held in her whimpers and screwed her eyes shut. But she couldn't ignore the concerned voices and soft hands of her captors as they petted her and tried to comfort her.
She heard the sound of a door opening. "Raid!" a deep male voice called. "Professor MacStuart is coming!"
Then before anyone could react, another door opened. "Raid!" Michelle recognized the voice of the tiny fem-ferret. "Professor Richardson is coming. We need to bring Amy here."
"Damnation." That was the hooded not-a-rabbit. "All right, we'll have to do a switch. We'll have time if we don't dawdle. Where's Bruce?"
"I'm here James."
"Take Michelle to the other room, and have Sam bring Amy here. And remember, everyone, we're the Society of the Wall when the professors come."
Michelle felt herself being picked up. She opened her eyes to find herself being carried by a male bear - Bruce. He brought her into a room similar to the one she had left, but here all the robed cultists were predator furries, all except for the bound and helpless fem-mouse on the table. Bruce set Michelle down beside the mouse, and then the mouse was carried off by a bull. Doors closed. "Remember everyone," Bruce said. "We're the Society of the Wall, now."
"Right!" someone said. Then the predator cultists began a nonsense chant. It didn't go on for very long before a knock came at the door - not the one leading to the prey side of the building.
"Professor Richardson is here," the tiny fem-ferret announced. An old and rather grim-looking lion stalked past her. His eyes swept over the room, and Michelle thought he looked disappointed when he saw her. He took a turn around the room, then demanded:
"What's all this?"
"We're the Society of the Wall, Sir," Bruce answered.
Professor Richardson growled "Bah! That nonsense. You'll grow out of it." Michelle heard him add in a lower tone, "You'd better grow out of it." Then he turned to give the robed group a glare. "You're not part of that mixing treason."
"Of course not, Sir," Bruce said. "Quite the opposite, in fact."
"Bah!" the lion growled again. He headed toward the prey-side door.
"Sir, that door leads to a group of prey-furries," Bruce said. Professor Richardson drew back as if the doorknob was red hot. "Or so we suspect," Bruce added quickly. "We heard voices."
"Very well." Professor Richardson swept the room with another glare and then left through the outer door.
Bruce started the nonsense-chant again, joined in by the other robed cultists. After a time, a knock came. "All clear," the tiny fem-ferret announced. A minute later, the tall hooded male appeared, carrying the mouse Amy. Michelle felt an unexpected spurt of jealousy, but then the hooded not-rabbit picked her up, giving her a chance to snuggle against him.
Whatever species he is, he has nice strong arms, Michelle thought. She could hear his heart beat, could feel him give her a squeeze.
"I'd like to have you to myself," he whispered. "But I can't tonight. Another time."
They entered the room where the prey-furry cultists waited. As Michelle's mysterious lover set her on the table, she found that she wasn't embarrassed at all, any more. Not even when two dozen friendly prey-furry hands approached her and began to tickle.
It was like the previous tickle-session, only more so. Combs ran through her fur with a tickling wiggle. Hands dug gently into her sides. Fingers ran across her belly and between her breasts. A squirmy massage ran up and down her legs, up and down her arms, and up and down her tail. Her ears were tickled. She could not avoid the tickling touch. Nor could she keep herself from squirming and giggling, struggling against her bonds as those soft, irresistible tickle-sensations sank into her.
Now some of the cultists were holding her feet, stroking her soles with prey-furry fingers, running feathers across the insteps and between the toes, using brushes to tease the sensitive skin. Michelle was a civilized, shoe-wearing furry, and like most such furries her feet were soft and tender as a result. They were perfect targets for the friendly, merciless tickle-assault being made against them, and Michelle could not keep from laughing and struggling. Of course, those struggles only served to make Michelle more aware of her helplessness, and to make her even more sensitive to the gentle teasing of her feet, her legs, her tail, her sides... her all-over.
It felt wonderful.
It continued to feel wonderful as it went on and on, draining Michelle's strength as she giggled and squirmed. Each of the dozen prey-furries applying the tickles had his or her own technique, so Michelle felt long slow strokes, and sharp brisk ones, teasing from fingers, brushes, combs and a half dozen other implements. There were light touches and firm ones, tickling that sought out and teased her most sensitive spots, and tickling that cultivated the less sensitive areas of her skin. Friendly, kindly, merciless tickling, by the robed prey-furries of the Cult of Cuddles, who teased her without malice and without embarrassment, until Michelle found herself regretting that she could not take any more.
Michelle found herself untied, and in the strong arms of the hooded male. His name is James she remembered.
The other cultists were packing up, leaving Michelle and James alone as she sat on his lap. She snuggled against him, and he whispered in her ear. "Next time, I'll have you all to myself."
I'd like that. Michelle thought, but she was too tired to say so. "Mmm," she said instead.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you."
"Mm-hum." She pressed against him further.
"In that case I have something for you." Keeping one arm around Michelle, James brought out a jewel case with his other. Inside was a necklace, a choker with a silver plate in front adorned with a string of little ruby hearts. On the back of the plate was engraved I belong to James.
"Oh," Michelle said. "Nice!" Then she flushed, as embarrassment returned. She wanted to tell James how beautiful it was, how much she appreciated his gift. But she still felt too drained to find the right words. What she could do, though, is take the necklace from its case with a gesture that invited James to take it from her and fasten it around her neck. "Thank you," she said. She couldn't kiss him, not with the hood over his face, but she could smile at him with her eyes glowing and her heart pounding.
"You're welcome," James said, his voice a bit husky. Michelle shivered, and then pressed herself against James again. For warmth. For love. She felt his arms tight around her, and heard his own heart beating.
"I need to put the rest of my clothes on," Michelle said at last. She continued to press against James. "In just a minute."
"In just a minute," James agreed, continuing to hold her.
(To be continued, sometime)
Part 1 is here
The Cult of Cuddles, Part 2
by Sablesword
In the privacy of a library cube, Michelle pulled out the wooden disk and looked once more at the glyph burned into it. It had been almost three weeks since That Night, as she privately named it, and she didn't know what to think.
For the first several days after That Night, Michelle had been eager for the summons to return. To be mobbed and petted and tickled by a herd of friendly prey people. Then with a sudden reversal of feeling, she had made up her mind that she would refuse to return. She would return the disk to the messenger and that would be the end of it. That determination had lasted four or five days, and now she wasn't sure what she would do.
She put the disk away, hiding it deep in her purse once more. She needed advice, she decided with a flick of her tail. She would ask Vivian. Her friend played edgy games, as with that synthetic rabbit-scent perfume, but she had a firm sense of what did or did not go too far. If Vivian approved - if she turned out to belong to the Cult of Cuddles herself, for example - then it would be all right. If she didn't approve, then the Cult did go too far, and Michelle would drop it. Her decision made, Michelle gathered her books and left the library.
Finding Vivian turned out to be easier said than done. Michelle couldn't find her in the first three places she looked. On her way to the fourth possible spot, Michelle encountered a ferret, the smallest adult fem-ferret she had ever seen. Practically as small as a mouse. No, literally as small as one: She came up to exactly the same height as that mouse who had...
"Michelle Vixen?" the fem-ferret asked.
"Yes?"
The ferret held up a bronze disk, cupped in her hand. "Have you ever seen anything like this?"
The disk was inscribed with the Cult of Cuddles' glyph. Michelle dug her own wooden disk from her purse. "One like this?" she asked, showing it to the ferret.
"Exactly." The ferret's eyes burned beady-bright. "Initiate Michelle, if you are ready for the next stage, be at North Predator Entrance of the old Theater Building at 8 P.M. tomorrow night."
Michelle looked down at the ferret. "What if I'm not ready? What if I don't want anything more to do with it?" It came out more hostile than she had intended.
The ferret shrugged, deflecting the hostility. "We'll ask you three times. Then you can give that back," she nodded at the disk, "and we won't ever bother you again. This," she wiggled her fingers in a tickling gesture, "isn't for everyone, after all."
"I was just curious," Michelle apologized. The other female gave her a sharp toothed ferret smile.
"'Which is more curious, the fox or the cat?'" she quoted.
"The fox," Michelle answered at once. She was burning with a number of questions, more curious than any cat could possibly be, but she also sensed that she only had time for one. "And I have one more question: How do you like it?" She wiggled her own fingers in the tickle-gesture.
"I like both giving it and taking it," the ferret answered. Her gaze and smile both softened. Having a big strong bull in your power is nice, sometimes. Other times, turnabout is fair play." She nodded and her gaze sharpened again. "It was good to meet you Michelle. Eight P.M. tomorrow night, if you want to come." She hurried off.
Michelle stood there for a long minute. "I will go." she told herself at last. "Never mind what Vivian would say. It can't be that bad."
#
Michelle was at the North door of the old Theater Building a few minutes before 8 P.M., and just as she arrived the door opened to reveal the mysterious-familiar figure drenched in synthetic rabbit-scent. "Welcome, Initiate Michelle," the hooded figure said, holding the door open for her.
"Thank you." Michelle hurried inside.
"You are ready for the next step in your initiation?"
"Um, yes. Yes." Michelle made herself speak firmly.
"Good!" the rabbit-scented figure said, his voice sounding cheerful from behind the hood. "We have a few minutes yet, so just relax. Lean against me and relax. No tickling until you're properly restrained; it's one of the Commandments of the Cult. So there's no need to tense up. There. That's better."
Michelle put her arms around the hooded figure as he massaged the tension from her shoulders and back. She tried, and failed, to catch a whiff of his true scent behind that synthetic rabbit. Was he canine, feline? Racoon, maybe? Despite his height he couldn't possibly be a bear... Whatever he was, his touch was most delightfully masculine.
After the massage, the hooded male led Michelle through an inside door, down a hall, and through another door into a familiar room. This time, however, the combs, feathers and various other items of tickling and restraint were piled on the two chairs, leaving the heavy wooden table empty. Arranged around the room, a dozen figures waited, robed and hooded, but still obviously prey-furries of various types. Michelle recognized some of them from her last visit here, and their familiarity reassured her.
"Take off your shoes and socks, and sit on the table," the hooded male told Michelle. When she was in place, he took a pair of handbells and began to ring them.
"By the angels of the North and the South," he chanted as he rung the bells. "By the good spirits of the East and West. The acolytes of the Cult of Cuddles are gathered here, and the Second Ceremony of Initiation will now begin!"
With that, the robed cultists stepped forward. Prey-furries who showed no fear or revulsion toward Michelle, vixen and predator though she was. Mice, a rabbit, a hedgehog, and others with friendly hands who undressed her, combed her fur, and gently bound her with the ropes and flexible cuffs laid out for that purpose. Gently, but most efficiently, rendering Michelle completely helpless.
That was when the embarrassment ambushed her.
Michelle had expected to feel nervous, or even frightened, and had set her mind on guard against that. But she hadn't expected to feel embarrassed. Certainly not this burning hot embarrassment that made her want to crawl into a hole and die. She was a predator! And these were prey! And they had made her helpless! And she had let them! She held in her whimpers and screwed her eyes shut. But she couldn't ignore the concerned voices and soft hands of her captors as they petted her and tried to comfort her.
She heard the sound of a door opening. "Raid!" a deep male voice called. "Professor MacStuart is coming!"
Then before anyone could react, another door opened. "Raid!" Michelle recognized the voice of the tiny fem-ferret. "Professor Richardson is coming. We need to bring Amy here."
"Damnation." That was the hooded not-a-rabbit. "All right, we'll have to do a switch. We'll have time if we don't dawdle. Where's Bruce?"
"I'm here James."
"Take Michelle to the other room, and have Sam bring Amy here. And remember, everyone, we're the Society of the Wall when the professors come."
Michelle felt herself being picked up. She opened her eyes to find herself being carried by a male bear - Bruce. He brought her into a room similar to the one she had left, but here all the robed cultists were predator furries, all except for the bound and helpless fem-mouse on the table. Bruce set Michelle down beside the mouse, and then the mouse was carried off by a bull. Doors closed. "Remember everyone," Bruce said. "We're the Society of the Wall, now."
"Right!" someone said. Then the predator cultists began a nonsense chant. It didn't go on for very long before a knock came at the door - not the one leading to the prey side of the building.
"Professor Richardson is here," the tiny fem-ferret announced. An old and rather grim-looking lion stalked past her. His eyes swept over the room, and Michelle thought he looked disappointed when he saw her. He took a turn around the room, then demanded:
"What's all this?"
"We're the Society of the Wall, Sir," Bruce answered.
Professor Richardson growled "Bah! That nonsense. You'll grow out of it." Michelle heard him add in a lower tone, "You'd better grow out of it." Then he turned to give the robed group a glare. "You're not part of that mixing treason."
"Of course not, Sir," Bruce said. "Quite the opposite, in fact."
"Bah!" the lion growled again. He headed toward the prey-side door.
"Sir, that door leads to a group of prey-furries," Bruce said. Professor Richardson drew back as if the doorknob was red hot. "Or so we suspect," Bruce added quickly. "We heard voices."
"Very well." Professor Richardson swept the room with another glare and then left through the outer door.
Bruce started the nonsense-chant again, joined in by the other robed cultists. After a time, a knock came. "All clear," the tiny fem-ferret announced. A minute later, the tall hooded male appeared, carrying the mouse Amy. Michelle felt an unexpected spurt of jealousy, but then the hooded not-rabbit picked her up, giving her a chance to snuggle against him.
Whatever species he is, he has nice strong arms, Michelle thought. She could hear his heart beat, could feel him give her a squeeze.
"I'd like to have you to myself," he whispered. "But I can't tonight. Another time."
They entered the room where the prey-furry cultists waited. As Michelle's mysterious lover set her on the table, she found that she wasn't embarrassed at all, any more. Not even when two dozen friendly prey-furry hands approached her and began to tickle.
It was like the previous tickle-session, only more so. Combs ran through her fur with a tickling wiggle. Hands dug gently into her sides. Fingers ran across her belly and between her breasts. A squirmy massage ran up and down her legs, up and down her arms, and up and down her tail. Her ears were tickled. She could not avoid the tickling touch. Nor could she keep herself from squirming and giggling, struggling against her bonds as those soft, irresistible tickle-sensations sank into her.
Now some of the cultists were holding her feet, stroking her soles with prey-furry fingers, running feathers across the insteps and between the toes, using brushes to tease the sensitive skin. Michelle was a civilized, shoe-wearing furry, and like most such furries her feet were soft and tender as a result. They were perfect targets for the friendly, merciless tickle-assault being made against them, and Michelle could not keep from laughing and struggling. Of course, those struggles only served to make Michelle more aware of her helplessness, and to make her even more sensitive to the gentle teasing of her feet, her legs, her tail, her sides... her all-over.
It felt wonderful.
It continued to feel wonderful as it went on and on, draining Michelle's strength as she giggled and squirmed. Each of the dozen prey-furries applying the tickles had his or her own technique, so Michelle felt long slow strokes, and sharp brisk ones, teasing from fingers, brushes, combs and a half dozen other implements. There were light touches and firm ones, tickling that sought out and teased her most sensitive spots, and tickling that cultivated the less sensitive areas of her skin. Friendly, kindly, merciless tickling, by the robed prey-furries of the Cult of Cuddles, who teased her without malice and without embarrassment, until Michelle found herself regretting that she could not take any more.
Michelle found herself untied, and in the strong arms of the hooded male. His name is James she remembered.
The other cultists were packing up, leaving Michelle and James alone as she sat on his lap. She snuggled against him, and he whispered in her ear. "Next time, I'll have you all to myself."
I'd like that. Michelle thought, but she was too tired to say so. "Mmm," she said instead.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you."
"Mm-hum." She pressed against him further.
"In that case I have something for you." Keeping one arm around Michelle, James brought out a jewel case with his other. Inside was a necklace, a choker with a silver plate in front adorned with a string of little ruby hearts. On the back of the plate was engraved I belong to James.
"Oh," Michelle said. "Nice!" Then she flushed, as embarrassment returned. She wanted to tell James how beautiful it was, how much she appreciated his gift. But she still felt too drained to find the right words. What she could do, though, is take the necklace from its case with a gesture that invited James to take it from her and fasten it around her neck. "Thank you," she said. She couldn't kiss him, not with the hood over his face, but she could smile at him with her eyes glowing and her heart pounding.
"You're welcome," James said, his voice a bit husky. Michelle shivered, and then pressed herself against James again. For warmth. For love. She felt his arms tight around her, and heard his own heart beating.
"I need to put the rest of my clothes on," Michelle said at last. She continued to press against James. "In just a minute."
"In just a minute," James agreed, continuing to hold her.
(To be continued, sometime)
