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More from CatsBecauseYeah
A couple of canines go on a hunting trip in the woods; surely, they're the #1 predators out here, right...?
First hypno story! Haven't written prose in two years, and never written hypno stuff before, BUT it's been something on my bucket list for a while. Features hypnotrash, tailfun, and I hope y'all enjoy it!
And PLS feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments; I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts!
P.S. def encourage you check out the PDF version, too. Has those fancy things called italics~<3
—————————————————————————————————————————————————
A Lesson in Hunting
By CatsBecauseYeah
“Cliff. Shut up.”
“But—“
The wolf drew a deep sigh. “Folks go missing in forests all the time.”
“Are they found in drunken stupors all the time?”
He shrugs. “People drink.”
“And with no alcohol in their system—”
“What do you want me to say? Shit happens!”
The retriever looked back with sorry eyes.
“That’s not exactly comforting, Trent.”
“Aw, hell,” he said, deigning Cliff with eye-contact. “Just because some shit on the internet spooked you doesn’t mean we’re gonna disappear into thin air — and c’mere.”
The wolf stepped forward, grabbing the retriever’s paw and adjusting his grip on his rifle. “You hold it like this. You don’t want recoil whoopin’ your ass.”
“Sorry. I’ve never held one of these.”
“Guess they don’t teach you that in college, huh?” Trent snarked.
Cliff shakes his head, his golden ears flopping. “At least not in Freshman year.”
Trent didn’t respond, and Cliff’s jaw clenched tighter. A summer breeze crept between the camo-clad canines as rustling leaves, gleaming like gold, diced the afternoon sunlight.
“Are you at least havin’ a good time?”
“It’s just new to me, is all. I’ve never hunted before.”
“Well, you’re the one who wanted to visit his cousin-in-the-boonies.”
“I know.”
“We used to romp around woods like this all the time when we were pups. Remember?”
Cliff spared a chuckle. “That tree-fort didn’t last a week.”
“Yeah, ’08 was a stormy fuckin’ year,” he reminisced.
“It’s just,” Cliff said, “I saw a few articles about folks going missing around here in the last few months, and... I don’t know.”
Trent’s muzzle hung open in disbelief. “Really, Cliff? You Googled that?”
Cliff shrugged, looking away.
Trent laid a paw on his little cousin’s shoulder. “You’re fine. Nothing out here’s after ya’. Chill out.” Cocking his rifle, he fixes his gaze through the labyrinth of trees, eyes peeled for a buck.
“What makes you so sure?”
“You talk too much.”
--
The retriever climbed into the tent as the wolf lay staring up.
“PJ’s: on. Teeth: brushed. I am ready to sleep.” Cliff chimed, nestling beside his cousin in his sleeping bag. “Is it normal to not come home with a catch?”
“Happens,” Trent said. “It’s the fact that we didn’t see a deer at all that’s weird.” Sighing, he turned over, his tail limp beside Cliff. “Whatever.”
“I wonder if that other hunter found one.”
The wolf’s ears perked. “What other hunter?”
“There was a white-furred guy at one point, kind of off in the distance. He dipped pretty quickly, though.”
Trent turned back over, looking the retriever in the eyes. “Was he wearing camo?”
“I’m not going to bullshit you, dude. I don’t think he was wearing anything. Just white.”
“And what — poof? He was gone?”
The golden retriever paused. “...Basically.”
The wolf stared for a few seconds, eyes focused like a hawk. Slowly, a grin began to form across his muzzle, huffing air out his nostrils.
“Go the fuck to bed, you nerd.”
--
Cliff stirred. He was awake, but opening his eyes made no difference; everything was dark. Cliff shifted a bit, careful not to wake Trent with the crinkling of the sleeping bag. Slowly, his eyes tried adjusting to the dark, the single shade of black leaking detail like developed film. Still, he could barely see the tent’s nylon siding. Concerned for his cousin, he furtively turned over, curious to see if the wolf’s ears were perked; if not, he was in the clear. He blinked, waiting for his vision to adjust. Seconds passed, maybe even a minute, Cliff thought, but he saw nothing. Slowly, he extended a paw — and felt nothing.
“What the fuck?” He barked, flicking on his flashlight. The light burned, but only for a moment. Beside him lay an empty sleeping bag. Only then did he notice the tent was unzipped.
Cliff sighed, rubbing his forehead with his paw. “Of course.” A subtle breeze wafted through the open tent; the air was warm, filling his lungs as he took a deep breath and crawled out of the tent. All he heard were a distant cricket and the crunch of generations of leaves beneath his feet. Beyond him, the trees stretched as far as the flashlight could reveal.
His muscles tensed, but his breathing slowed. Cliff could see why Trent liked to come out here; the serenity was undeniable. But nighttime in the city was filled with lights, glass, and noise. For Cliff, the serenity competed with claustrophobia. Whatever stars hung above were curtained by swaying canopy, and only their rustling cut through the dark. The flashlight’s beam felt naked and thin, like it might collapse in on itself. Flicking it about, Cliff only saw much of the same: grass, dirt, trees.
“Trent? You taking a whiz?”
No reply. He felt tears pricking at his eyes the longer he waited. “Dude, this isn’t funny. If you’re trying to scare me, it’s working, okay?”
Moments passed, and he began to walk forward, his mind casting a mental tether to the tent. Don’t fucking lose that, he thought.
“Seriously. Pranking me won’t make me any less anxious about being out here, and I’m sorry I talked about, fuckin’, people missing and scary stuff and whatever. But scaring me is only gonna make that worse, and I know you don’t want to listen to another day’s worth of—AGH!”
Something caught his foot. Cliff fell onto his chest, flashlight rolling in the dirt. “Damn it!” What was that, he thought? A root or branch? It seemed to move. But he had been walking pretty fast. His rigid limbs tried to pick himself off the dirt, his PJ’s in need of a wash. On his hands and knees, he reached forward for the flashlight. As he swiped it back, something to his left caught his eye.
Slumped against a tree lay a wolf in gray sweats, his head tilted down. Cliff launched off the ground and ran the few yards to his cousin.
“Dude, dude, dude!” he cried, kneeling beside the wolf. Why on Earth would Trent go camping in the woods if he sleepwalks, he thought? What kind of idiot does that?
He jostled his shoulder; nothing. Trent’s head swayed like an old bobble-head. “You need to come back to the tent. Wake. Up.” The rise and fall of Trent’s chest was imperceptible. Fearing the worst, Cliff lay his paw pads on his cousin’s temple. A gentle pulse beat every few seconds. “Thank God.”
Looking across his cousin, Cliff’s eyes began to squint. It was impossible to see with the flashlight’s glare, and the retriever had to set the flashlight down to really notice. It was faint, but as his eyes adjusted to the dark once more, it grew no less apparent. Up near the collarbone on the white of Trent’s shirt, Cliff swore he could see a faint, violet glow. From where was beyond him, but it was there — it was there.
Cliff bent his head down, trying to peer at the wolf’s face. His eyes seemed shut, but no. Trent’s eyes were slightly open. Frustrated, Cliff grabbed the wolf’s head and held it up.
What cliff saw threw him back on his rear crying, his adrenaline-fueled legs kicking against the dirt. His cousin’s eyes were open — just barely — and glowing.
Violet. Dull, but unmistakable. The same bluish-purple from his shirt. Cliff felt his heart seize as his cousin’s limp head slumped back against his chest.
“WhatthefuckWhatthefuckWhatthefuck?” His paws fumbled to prop his back off the ground as his tail curled between his legs. He took a few breaths, feeling as if he couldn’t get enough oxygen, and saw the flashlight he’d set down beside his cousin. Cliff had neither felt more concern towards someone nor a stronger urge to stay away from something in his entire life. He was paralyzed. Silent.
“He’s still alive.”
Cliff’s chest shriveled. The voice came from behind him, but he didn’t dare move his head. Not a fucking inch.
The voice was soft but masculine; lilted, almost singsongy, yet matter-of-fact. And for several moments, Cliff didn’t hear it again.
H—… Hello?” Cliff whimpered. His voice no longer echoed against the trees like it had before; it was quiet and consumed, as though the darkness around were foam.
More moments passed without a word. Cliff shook his head. “I’m hearing things,” he said, exasperated. “I hate the woods. I hate the fucking woods.”
He gained control of his shaking limbs, hoisting himself onto his feet. His cousin and the flashlight lay about a yard forward. But Cliff didn’t want to move. He didn’t trust himself, his senses. A cricket chirped, a breeze blew, and the trees shivered. The forest was empty. But Cliff would not budge without certainty. So he took a deep breath.
“Hello?”
“Hello.”
Cliff bolted forward, grabbing the flashlight and trying to lift his cousin. He growled as he heaved the taller wolf.
“He’s too heavy,” the voice said.
“Shut up!” the retriever yelled, dropping his cousin and sprinting for the tent. Something dashed in the branches beside him, keeping up. His legs flew faster, and in seconds he outran his center of gravity, stumbling forward. But before he could hit the ground, something caught him — something soft and cloud-like but impossibly strong. It shot beneath his chest before coiling around his thin torso, hoisting him up above the forest floor. He gripped it with his paws; it must’ve been a couple feet thick, muscular like a snake, yet covered in thick layers of white, silky fur. It spun him around, and in seconds he was wrapped in three thick coils from his knees up to his neck. Cliff thrashed about, but the thing only tightened, threatening to squeeze the breath out of him.
“Agh!” He grunted, feet dangling beneath him. After a few moments, he ceased his squirming, and whatever held him loosened. He raised his eyes and from the darkness came a cat.
Enough light from the flashlight spilled through the furred coils. The cat was taller than Cliff, though not by much, and his fur was long and white. Whatever held Cliff looped around the cat’s side. It’s his fucking tail, he thought. The cat stepped closer, wearing a pleased grin. His nose, too, was white, and his eyes were wrong.
The whites of his eyes were black — just white pupils suspended in darkness, fixed on Cliff. He didn’t blink.
“If only he’d known you had a point,” the creature said, nodding in Trent’s direction. Something was off about the cat’s fur; it danced gently in the breeze, yet it almost seemed to evaporate like vapor.
“What?” Cliff said.
“‘There’s this whole online forum dedicated to missing 411 cases. And they always happen in the woods,’” he said, casually feigning concern. “‘ Is this a good idea?’”
“You heard that!?”
The cat took another step closer, his tail getting just a little tighter as his face drew inches from Cliff’s.
“‘There was a white-furred guy at one point, kind of off in the distance. He dipped pretty quickly, though.’”
Invisible needles pricked at Cliff’s spine. The creature spoke again.
“I was on your side. You were right, after all. Trent? That’s his name? He should’ve listened. But I thought you’d appreciate the vindication of finding him. Of knowing you were right.” His cadence was slow and deliberate. Cliff hung on every syllable.
“W— What d— d— did you d— do—?”
The tail squeezed. “Shh, shh, shh. One at a time. What did I…?”
Cliff steadied his breath, heart throbbing in his chest. “W— What did you d— do to Trent?”
For a moment, the feline lowered his gaze, staring forward. Cliff swore he could see white horns curling back atop the cat’s head.
“All you need to know is that he’s fine.”
“W— What does that mean?”
“Well, if you asked him — if you could ask him — he’d tell you he’s never felt better.”
“That doesn’t answer my quest—“
The tip of the cat’s tail wrapped in front of Cliff’s face, muzzling him and leaving only his eyes uncovered. Muffled protests were smothered beneath the fur.
“There’s no need for you to worry about him,” he said, “He’s fine. There’s no point in asking, Cliff.” He leaned in closer. “Because you’re going to find out for yourself.”
The dog’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “MPH! MMPH!” His flailing picked up again, writhing inside the feline’s serpentine tail. And like a boa, he squeezed, the coils of fur pulled taut against the retriever. Tighter and tighter, it was only when Cliff found it difficult to breathe that his fighting ceased. Seconds of silence passed, and the cat gently set Cliff on the ground. All at once, the tail unraveled, and Cliff was standing on his own two feet. The cat took a step forward, and Cliff bolted.
“No, you don’t.” The tail lashed forward, hooking around Cliff’s waist and tossing him into the cat, who caught him against his bare chest. With his arms around the whimpering dog, his tail began wrapping around the two like a cocoon. “You’re staying here with me.”
“I— I don’t want to disappear,” Cliff mewled. His captor was taken aback.
“No. And you won’t.”
“You’re not gonna k— kill or kidnap me?”
He looked down. No, the cat thought. Not this time. He shook his head.
“What is it you want?” Cliff asked, voice quivering.
He couldn’t answer. A bit of fun? To feel alive again? Another sip of soul, having drunk from Trent? None of it made for a good answer. Not that it mattered, either; the dog had pleaded kindly, he and his cousin would be spared the alternative, and they would wake up weary and drunk with only hazy recollections of the night before — the terror, the bliss.
He looked back up into Cliff’s sorry eyes as his tail held them firm. Gently, he leaned his head forward until his forehead met the canine’s, their eyes inches apart. Cliff likely wanted an honest answer, the cat figured. But he couldn’t know of his intent. So the cat gave Cliff the most honest answer he had.
“I want you to look into my eyes.”
Cliff proceeded to do the opposite. Still wrapped in his tail, the cat swiped his leg up, kicking the back of Cliff’s knee. Cliff yelped, and the cat’s tail loosened, giving Cliff room to fall to his knees. His captor knelt with him, and his tail entombed the two again. He lifted the canine’s chin with his paw.
“You may like what you see, Cliff.”
His eyes clamped shut. This act of defiance wasn’t winning Cliff any brownie points with the cat. But he waited. And eventually, Cliff opened his eyelids.
The creature’s eyes glowed. Somehow, his black eyes radiated a deep, piercing violet, and it reflected off the creature’s fur, shining an otherworldly blue. It was the same he’d seen from Trent, but he wasn’t afraid.
Cliff’s facial muscles relaxed. His eyes bathed in the light; it was like staring at the sun without the pain or urge to look away. Was this how magnets felt, he thought? He couldn’t even comment on how stupid that sounded.
Those eyes sent Cliff’s mind racing, yet the more his brain thought, the more it felt like it was wading through water.
For a moment, he remembered a dorm mate who’d had a black light in her room. She’d flick it on, and the black glass shone purple, and the whites of her sheets shone blue. “For my birthday,” she’d said. That’s where she got it. Her name — what was her name?
The memory didn’t last. Every second Cliff’s eyes were exposed to that sinister light, the memory drifted further away, as though pulled by oceanic tides.
The creature spoke, his tone rhythmic and deliberate. “Sink. Sink. Sink.” Cliff’s will bobbed adrift an ocean of liquid violet light. “Sink.” Every echoing word out of his captor’s muzzle was like a wave lapping against him, each larger than the last. Cliff knew — with what little left he knew — that he was going to submerge, with only a grasping paw breaking forth the hypnotic waters.
The creature spoke slower, softer, drawing a breath between each word. “Sink… Sink...” Never had Cliff felt so heavy. Faint whimpers escaped his muzzle as the light grew stronger, his face growing numb.
“Sink. You’ll be okay.”
It was all his brain wanted to think about — that haunting light, penetrating his mind like glory rays through clouds. No other thought could register, only a melting trepidation.
“Breathe in. Accept.”
“Y—…”
He was slipping. Whatever morsel of will left fought like hell, but god, it felt so good.
The cat pushed him forward, laying him on a bed of his tail as he crawled over him, staring down. Lowering his head, the feline poured forth the hypnotic light into Cliff’s wide, welcoming eyes. His heart beat slower. Weak sounds bubbled from his slack muzzle.
“You’re a perfect puppy, aren’t you?”
Cliff nodded.
“You don’t want to fight, do you?”
“No.”
“And how does the water feel?”
Like paradise, Cliff thought. Like a hot tub. Like a blanket. Like the Caribbean. A warm hug. A soft kiss. Love itself. The cat’s anchor only submerged him further into hypnosis. Not even his paw grazed the surface.
“Good,” Cliff answered.
The cat grinned, amplifying the light. His eyes nearly rivaled Cliff’s flashlight. The golden retriever’s muzzle hung open as drool crawled down his cheek, and the last of his will evaporated like morning dew.
“And to whom do you belong?”
“You.”
“Good puppy.”
With Cliff so subdued, his captor could smell his unguarded spirit bubbling to the surface. On his bed of tail, he wrapped Cliff tight and poked his nose with the tip.
“It's time for my dessert, lil’ pup, so I’m going to ask of you one more thing,” the cat said. Cliff murmured nonsense, his eyes beginning to glow.
The creature chuckled, then drew closer, until all Cliff saw was light—
“Sleep.”
—and then black.
First hypno story! Haven't written prose in two years, and never written hypno stuff before, BUT it's been something on my bucket list for a while. Features hypnotrash, tailfun, and I hope y'all enjoy it!
And PLS feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments; I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts!
P.S. def encourage you check out the PDF version, too. Has those fancy things called italics~<3
—————————————————————————————————————————————————
A Lesson in Hunting
By CatsBecauseYeah
“Cliff. Shut up.”
“But—“
The wolf drew a deep sigh. “Folks go missing in forests all the time.”
“Are they found in drunken stupors all the time?”
He shrugs. “People drink.”
“And with no alcohol in their system—”
“What do you want me to say? Shit happens!”
The retriever looked back with sorry eyes.
“That’s not exactly comforting, Trent.”
“Aw, hell,” he said, deigning Cliff with eye-contact. “Just because some shit on the internet spooked you doesn’t mean we’re gonna disappear into thin air — and c’mere.”
The wolf stepped forward, grabbing the retriever’s paw and adjusting his grip on his rifle. “You hold it like this. You don’t want recoil whoopin’ your ass.”
“Sorry. I’ve never held one of these.”
“Guess they don’t teach you that in college, huh?” Trent snarked.
Cliff shakes his head, his golden ears flopping. “At least not in Freshman year.”
Trent didn’t respond, and Cliff’s jaw clenched tighter. A summer breeze crept between the camo-clad canines as rustling leaves, gleaming like gold, diced the afternoon sunlight.
“Are you at least havin’ a good time?”
“It’s just new to me, is all. I’ve never hunted before.”
“Well, you’re the one who wanted to visit his cousin-in-the-boonies.”
“I know.”
“We used to romp around woods like this all the time when we were pups. Remember?”
Cliff spared a chuckle. “That tree-fort didn’t last a week.”
“Yeah, ’08 was a stormy fuckin’ year,” he reminisced.
“It’s just,” Cliff said, “I saw a few articles about folks going missing around here in the last few months, and... I don’t know.”
Trent’s muzzle hung open in disbelief. “Really, Cliff? You Googled that?”
Cliff shrugged, looking away.
Trent laid a paw on his little cousin’s shoulder. “You’re fine. Nothing out here’s after ya’. Chill out.” Cocking his rifle, he fixes his gaze through the labyrinth of trees, eyes peeled for a buck.
“What makes you so sure?”
“You talk too much.”
--
The retriever climbed into the tent as the wolf lay staring up.
“PJ’s: on. Teeth: brushed. I am ready to sleep.” Cliff chimed, nestling beside his cousin in his sleeping bag. “Is it normal to not come home with a catch?”
“Happens,” Trent said. “It’s the fact that we didn’t see a deer at all that’s weird.” Sighing, he turned over, his tail limp beside Cliff. “Whatever.”
“I wonder if that other hunter found one.”
The wolf’s ears perked. “What other hunter?”
“There was a white-furred guy at one point, kind of off in the distance. He dipped pretty quickly, though.”
Trent turned back over, looking the retriever in the eyes. “Was he wearing camo?”
“I’m not going to bullshit you, dude. I don’t think he was wearing anything. Just white.”
“And what — poof? He was gone?”
The golden retriever paused. “...Basically.”
The wolf stared for a few seconds, eyes focused like a hawk. Slowly, a grin began to form across his muzzle, huffing air out his nostrils.
“Go the fuck to bed, you nerd.”
--
Cliff stirred. He was awake, but opening his eyes made no difference; everything was dark. Cliff shifted a bit, careful not to wake Trent with the crinkling of the sleeping bag. Slowly, his eyes tried adjusting to the dark, the single shade of black leaking detail like developed film. Still, he could barely see the tent’s nylon siding. Concerned for his cousin, he furtively turned over, curious to see if the wolf’s ears were perked; if not, he was in the clear. He blinked, waiting for his vision to adjust. Seconds passed, maybe even a minute, Cliff thought, but he saw nothing. Slowly, he extended a paw — and felt nothing.
“What the fuck?” He barked, flicking on his flashlight. The light burned, but only for a moment. Beside him lay an empty sleeping bag. Only then did he notice the tent was unzipped.
Cliff sighed, rubbing his forehead with his paw. “Of course.” A subtle breeze wafted through the open tent; the air was warm, filling his lungs as he took a deep breath and crawled out of the tent. All he heard were a distant cricket and the crunch of generations of leaves beneath his feet. Beyond him, the trees stretched as far as the flashlight could reveal.
His muscles tensed, but his breathing slowed. Cliff could see why Trent liked to come out here; the serenity was undeniable. But nighttime in the city was filled with lights, glass, and noise. For Cliff, the serenity competed with claustrophobia. Whatever stars hung above were curtained by swaying canopy, and only their rustling cut through the dark. The flashlight’s beam felt naked and thin, like it might collapse in on itself. Flicking it about, Cliff only saw much of the same: grass, dirt, trees.
“Trent? You taking a whiz?”
No reply. He felt tears pricking at his eyes the longer he waited. “Dude, this isn’t funny. If you’re trying to scare me, it’s working, okay?”
Moments passed, and he began to walk forward, his mind casting a mental tether to the tent. Don’t fucking lose that, he thought.
“Seriously. Pranking me won’t make me any less anxious about being out here, and I’m sorry I talked about, fuckin’, people missing and scary stuff and whatever. But scaring me is only gonna make that worse, and I know you don’t want to listen to another day’s worth of—AGH!”
Something caught his foot. Cliff fell onto his chest, flashlight rolling in the dirt. “Damn it!” What was that, he thought? A root or branch? It seemed to move. But he had been walking pretty fast. His rigid limbs tried to pick himself off the dirt, his PJ’s in need of a wash. On his hands and knees, he reached forward for the flashlight. As he swiped it back, something to his left caught his eye.
Slumped against a tree lay a wolf in gray sweats, his head tilted down. Cliff launched off the ground and ran the few yards to his cousin.
“Dude, dude, dude!” he cried, kneeling beside the wolf. Why on Earth would Trent go camping in the woods if he sleepwalks, he thought? What kind of idiot does that?
He jostled his shoulder; nothing. Trent’s head swayed like an old bobble-head. “You need to come back to the tent. Wake. Up.” The rise and fall of Trent’s chest was imperceptible. Fearing the worst, Cliff lay his paw pads on his cousin’s temple. A gentle pulse beat every few seconds. “Thank God.”
Looking across his cousin, Cliff’s eyes began to squint. It was impossible to see with the flashlight’s glare, and the retriever had to set the flashlight down to really notice. It was faint, but as his eyes adjusted to the dark once more, it grew no less apparent. Up near the collarbone on the white of Trent’s shirt, Cliff swore he could see a faint, violet glow. From where was beyond him, but it was there — it was there.
Cliff bent his head down, trying to peer at the wolf’s face. His eyes seemed shut, but no. Trent’s eyes were slightly open. Frustrated, Cliff grabbed the wolf’s head and held it up.
What cliff saw threw him back on his rear crying, his adrenaline-fueled legs kicking against the dirt. His cousin’s eyes were open — just barely — and glowing.
Violet. Dull, but unmistakable. The same bluish-purple from his shirt. Cliff felt his heart seize as his cousin’s limp head slumped back against his chest.
“WhatthefuckWhatthefuckWhatthefuck?” His paws fumbled to prop his back off the ground as his tail curled between his legs. He took a few breaths, feeling as if he couldn’t get enough oxygen, and saw the flashlight he’d set down beside his cousin. Cliff had neither felt more concern towards someone nor a stronger urge to stay away from something in his entire life. He was paralyzed. Silent.
“He’s still alive.”
Cliff’s chest shriveled. The voice came from behind him, but he didn’t dare move his head. Not a fucking inch.
The voice was soft but masculine; lilted, almost singsongy, yet matter-of-fact. And for several moments, Cliff didn’t hear it again.
H—… Hello?” Cliff whimpered. His voice no longer echoed against the trees like it had before; it was quiet and consumed, as though the darkness around were foam.
More moments passed without a word. Cliff shook his head. “I’m hearing things,” he said, exasperated. “I hate the woods. I hate the fucking woods.”
He gained control of his shaking limbs, hoisting himself onto his feet. His cousin and the flashlight lay about a yard forward. But Cliff didn’t want to move. He didn’t trust himself, his senses. A cricket chirped, a breeze blew, and the trees shivered. The forest was empty. But Cliff would not budge without certainty. So he took a deep breath.
“Hello?”
“Hello.”
Cliff bolted forward, grabbing the flashlight and trying to lift his cousin. He growled as he heaved the taller wolf.
“He’s too heavy,” the voice said.
“Shut up!” the retriever yelled, dropping his cousin and sprinting for the tent. Something dashed in the branches beside him, keeping up. His legs flew faster, and in seconds he outran his center of gravity, stumbling forward. But before he could hit the ground, something caught him — something soft and cloud-like but impossibly strong. It shot beneath his chest before coiling around his thin torso, hoisting him up above the forest floor. He gripped it with his paws; it must’ve been a couple feet thick, muscular like a snake, yet covered in thick layers of white, silky fur. It spun him around, and in seconds he was wrapped in three thick coils from his knees up to his neck. Cliff thrashed about, but the thing only tightened, threatening to squeeze the breath out of him.
“Agh!” He grunted, feet dangling beneath him. After a few moments, he ceased his squirming, and whatever held him loosened. He raised his eyes and from the darkness came a cat.
Enough light from the flashlight spilled through the furred coils. The cat was taller than Cliff, though not by much, and his fur was long and white. Whatever held Cliff looped around the cat’s side. It’s his fucking tail, he thought. The cat stepped closer, wearing a pleased grin. His nose, too, was white, and his eyes were wrong.
The whites of his eyes were black — just white pupils suspended in darkness, fixed on Cliff. He didn’t blink.
“If only he’d known you had a point,” the creature said, nodding in Trent’s direction. Something was off about the cat’s fur; it danced gently in the breeze, yet it almost seemed to evaporate like vapor.
“What?” Cliff said.
“‘There’s this whole online forum dedicated to missing 411 cases. And they always happen in the woods,’” he said, casually feigning concern. “‘ Is this a good idea?’”
“You heard that!?”
The cat took another step closer, his tail getting just a little tighter as his face drew inches from Cliff’s.
“‘There was a white-furred guy at one point, kind of off in the distance. He dipped pretty quickly, though.’”
Invisible needles pricked at Cliff’s spine. The creature spoke again.
“I was on your side. You were right, after all. Trent? That’s his name? He should’ve listened. But I thought you’d appreciate the vindication of finding him. Of knowing you were right.” His cadence was slow and deliberate. Cliff hung on every syllable.
“W— What d— d— did you d— do—?”
The tail squeezed. “Shh, shh, shh. One at a time. What did I…?”
Cliff steadied his breath, heart throbbing in his chest. “W— What did you d— do to Trent?”
For a moment, the feline lowered his gaze, staring forward. Cliff swore he could see white horns curling back atop the cat’s head.
“All you need to know is that he’s fine.”
“W— What does that mean?”
“Well, if you asked him — if you could ask him — he’d tell you he’s never felt better.”
“That doesn’t answer my quest—“
The tip of the cat’s tail wrapped in front of Cliff’s face, muzzling him and leaving only his eyes uncovered. Muffled protests were smothered beneath the fur.
“There’s no need for you to worry about him,” he said, “He’s fine. There’s no point in asking, Cliff.” He leaned in closer. “Because you’re going to find out for yourself.”
The dog’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “MPH! MMPH!” His flailing picked up again, writhing inside the feline’s serpentine tail. And like a boa, he squeezed, the coils of fur pulled taut against the retriever. Tighter and tighter, it was only when Cliff found it difficult to breathe that his fighting ceased. Seconds of silence passed, and the cat gently set Cliff on the ground. All at once, the tail unraveled, and Cliff was standing on his own two feet. The cat took a step forward, and Cliff bolted.
“No, you don’t.” The tail lashed forward, hooking around Cliff’s waist and tossing him into the cat, who caught him against his bare chest. With his arms around the whimpering dog, his tail began wrapping around the two like a cocoon. “You’re staying here with me.”
“I— I don’t want to disappear,” Cliff mewled. His captor was taken aback.
“No. And you won’t.”
“You’re not gonna k— kill or kidnap me?”
He looked down. No, the cat thought. Not this time. He shook his head.
“What is it you want?” Cliff asked, voice quivering.
He couldn’t answer. A bit of fun? To feel alive again? Another sip of soul, having drunk from Trent? None of it made for a good answer. Not that it mattered, either; the dog had pleaded kindly, he and his cousin would be spared the alternative, and they would wake up weary and drunk with only hazy recollections of the night before — the terror, the bliss.
He looked back up into Cliff’s sorry eyes as his tail held them firm. Gently, he leaned his head forward until his forehead met the canine’s, their eyes inches apart. Cliff likely wanted an honest answer, the cat figured. But he couldn’t know of his intent. So the cat gave Cliff the most honest answer he had.
“I want you to look into my eyes.”
Cliff proceeded to do the opposite. Still wrapped in his tail, the cat swiped his leg up, kicking the back of Cliff’s knee. Cliff yelped, and the cat’s tail loosened, giving Cliff room to fall to his knees. His captor knelt with him, and his tail entombed the two again. He lifted the canine’s chin with his paw.
“You may like what you see, Cliff.”
His eyes clamped shut. This act of defiance wasn’t winning Cliff any brownie points with the cat. But he waited. And eventually, Cliff opened his eyelids.
The creature’s eyes glowed. Somehow, his black eyes radiated a deep, piercing violet, and it reflected off the creature’s fur, shining an otherworldly blue. It was the same he’d seen from Trent, but he wasn’t afraid.
Cliff’s facial muscles relaxed. His eyes bathed in the light; it was like staring at the sun without the pain or urge to look away. Was this how magnets felt, he thought? He couldn’t even comment on how stupid that sounded.
Those eyes sent Cliff’s mind racing, yet the more his brain thought, the more it felt like it was wading through water.
For a moment, he remembered a dorm mate who’d had a black light in her room. She’d flick it on, and the black glass shone purple, and the whites of her sheets shone blue. “For my birthday,” she’d said. That’s where she got it. Her name — what was her name?
The memory didn’t last. Every second Cliff’s eyes were exposed to that sinister light, the memory drifted further away, as though pulled by oceanic tides.
The creature spoke, his tone rhythmic and deliberate. “Sink. Sink. Sink.” Cliff’s will bobbed adrift an ocean of liquid violet light. “Sink.” Every echoing word out of his captor’s muzzle was like a wave lapping against him, each larger than the last. Cliff knew — with what little left he knew — that he was going to submerge, with only a grasping paw breaking forth the hypnotic waters.
The creature spoke slower, softer, drawing a breath between each word. “Sink… Sink...” Never had Cliff felt so heavy. Faint whimpers escaped his muzzle as the light grew stronger, his face growing numb.
“Sink. You’ll be okay.”
It was all his brain wanted to think about — that haunting light, penetrating his mind like glory rays through clouds. No other thought could register, only a melting trepidation.
“Breathe in. Accept.”
“Y—…”
He was slipping. Whatever morsel of will left fought like hell, but god, it felt so good.
The cat pushed him forward, laying him on a bed of his tail as he crawled over him, staring down. Lowering his head, the feline poured forth the hypnotic light into Cliff’s wide, welcoming eyes. His heart beat slower. Weak sounds bubbled from his slack muzzle.
“You’re a perfect puppy, aren’t you?”
Cliff nodded.
“You don’t want to fight, do you?”
“No.”
“And how does the water feel?”
Like paradise, Cliff thought. Like a hot tub. Like a blanket. Like the Caribbean. A warm hug. A soft kiss. Love itself. The cat’s anchor only submerged him further into hypnosis. Not even his paw grazed the surface.
“Good,” Cliff answered.
The cat grinned, amplifying the light. His eyes nearly rivaled Cliff’s flashlight. The golden retriever’s muzzle hung open as drool crawled down his cheek, and the last of his will evaporated like morning dew.
“And to whom do you belong?”
“You.”
“Good puppy.”
With Cliff so subdued, his captor could smell his unguarded spirit bubbling to the surface. On his bed of tail, he wrapped Cliff tight and poked his nose with the tip.
“It's time for my dessert, lil’ pup, so I’m going to ask of you one more thing,” the cat said. Cliff murmured nonsense, his eyes beginning to glow.
The creature chuckled, then drew closer, until all Cliff saw was light—
“Sleep.”
—and then black.
Category Story / Hypnosis
Species Housecat
Size 120 x 68px
File Size 73.9 kB
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