Rampage

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

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Rampage

"What do you mean it's cancelled?"

Jaws parted in disbelief, Rolig balled up his fists, trembling in barely restrained fury.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to take a seat for the moment while we explore other options for you. We may be able to get you on the next flight but I will need to look that up for you. Please take this complimentary drink coupon by way of apology, we are doing all we possibly can for you."

The words rolled over him, blurred and slurred together, and the attendant at the desk, a short gazelle, flinched as the wolf threw up his paws, storming off with a growl tearing from his lips. They peeled back from his teeth, exposing a flash of pink, fleshy gum and teeth dripping with saliva, but no one there was smart enough to heed the warning, bumping into him and getting in his way, although he was already a tall guy at the best of times, standing over most others in the airport.

"Move!"

He snarled and yet the spectacled cat only scowled at him, barging past and through him with a cluster of mewling offspring.

"Come on, kittens, that mean ol' dog doesn't want you to get your flight to va-cay! But we're not going to let him spoil our day now, are we? No, no, no -- we are not! He's just a big, ol', mean wuffie who wants to ruin everything for you!"

As the kittens mewled, Rolig snarled his way out of sight, heaving into the bathrooms, although they were not going to stop the rage curling through him, searing up and up and up like a serpent rising from the depths of his soul. His eyes simmered crimson and his tongue lolled out, muzzle wrinkled in a snarl that seemed destined to never leave the grace of his otherwise handsome muzzle ever again.

It was time.

They knew their mistake as soon as the rumble began, several people looking up as if they thought that they could hear the thunder through the thick and raised roof of the airport. Of course, it was not thunder but something far more sinister as a massive paw stomped through the roof, crushing steel beams as if they were matchsticks, buckling and creaking and shattering beneath his might. Rolig roared and bellowed, many times larger than the airport itself as he powered through, wading through a mess of broken and beaten down roofing as the crowds fled before his wrath.

He didn't see them from his higher vantage point, however, the creatures that he had, not so long ago, walked among scattering like ants -- less than ants, actually. Rolig was a beast and it was about time he acted like one too. How dare they cancel his flight? Didn't they know who he was? He had somewhere to go and places to be! Even though he couldn't quite remember where he was going, it seemed imperative to him that he destroy the place, slamming and stomping and powering his way through.

The building... Yes... Yes, he had to start there. His eyes misted over crimson as he tore into it with his paws, claws a little longer and sharper than they had been before, although the grip in his paws would have been more than enough to do what he needed to do. Power thrummed through him, pulsing and vibrating, and it didn't even matter right then that he was naked, his strength all that he cared about and the demonstration of such.

Yet wading through the building, wrecking his portion, just wasn't enough for him as he growled and tore his way through, smashing and grinding, fragments crushed underfoot. Undoubtedly there were innocent victims down there but there was no sense of care or concern in his mind as Rolig grunted and groaned, ripping free until he was out on the parkway for the planes themselves.

And it was the sight of those planes that incited more rage in him than ever. One of them was his... And it could have all been okay if not for the fact that he wasn't on it! It would have all been different if they'd just let him on, let him get on with his flight and his day...but they hadn't. No, no, no, no, no, they'd only gone and fucked up his day to high heaven and there was nothing to be done about it now that his path of destruction had begun!

He took down a plane with a blue stripe down the side, eyes glazing over the logo. No, it did not matter: if his flight was cancelled, they would all suffer the same fate. His paws wrapped easily around the barrel of the plane and he hefted it up in the air without really feeling the weight of it, devoid of other furs and yet destined to meet a gnarly, twisted fate in metal and grinding shafts before its time.

Everyone's greatest fear of flying came from crashing out of the sky but he was the true terror on the runway, stomping and snarling, using both paws as if in slow-motion to grind and pummel the plane into smithereens. Glass splintered under his paws but he felt no pain if the shards ground into his pads, nails cutting as he tore it into shreds so easily that it may as well have just been cardboard for how well it stood up against him.

"Heh...heh...heh..."

Even his laugh came slowly but he rumbled a growl that resonated for miles, turning heads in houses that did not yet even know of the rampaging destruction taking place at the airport, everything that entailed and crushed the world into. No one yet knew if he would restrain his wrath to the ones who had scorned him or if he would seek out more entertaining prey further afield... All Rolig knew was anger, stomping and crushing the tarmac, lines splintering out from his bare hind paw as if the surface itself has been pounded with the driving force of a battering ram.

Above, the cloudy sky swirled and stormed, threatening rain, but that was not going to stop him as he threw the first plane away and moved onto the next, ignoring the smash that resonated from the impact of it in its wake. The ground trembled but whether that was from his paws or the thunder of the plane disintegrating, metal plates grinding and slamming against and into one other, its life come to a sad and abrupt end. Rolig rumbled a growl as he heaved the next plane up, making a show of his strength, the aircraft above his head and turning, spinning, showing off his might and power. Anyone who might have admired him, however, was not in sight, either fleeing or hiding, although there was nowhere at all that one could hide from a wolf like that, a colossal, towering figure that was only intent on destroying all that his paws touched. And wasn't that all fair and good considering what he had been put through?

The plane found its way into his teeth, his massive maw, as if it was meant to fit in there, and yet he still strained his jaws horribly wide as he showed off the pink, undulating flesh of his tongue, snaking around the body of the plane as if it was a treat that he wanted to suckle into the back of his mouth. But he could not expend too much time slavering over it as he snarled and lapped along the side, saliva swirling over the windows, although it was all destined to be crushed and shattered in no time at all. Yet he still revelled and relished in the moment, the sensation of being all-powerful as he dug his toes and claws into the tarmac, lines broken beneath them.

There would be no respite for the plane that was so destined to be beaten within his maw as he crunched and chewed with relish, nibbling at the tail before swiping it off in one snatch and smash of his teeth that it could have been missed in the blink of an eye if someone had not quite been paying due attention to it. The nose crinkled in as he turned it about, savouring the crushing treat, and teased the body of the plane with the edges of his teeth, scraping and squealing over as yet unmarked bodywork.

Chewing it up in his colossal jaws had never been so satisfying, even though he could never remember what had happened after his transformative episodes. The feel of it between his teeth was just what it needed to be and he crunched down, puncturing metal, the wings buckling. With great relish, he picked them off one by one and dropped them on the runway without any sense of ceremony. They didn't need to be drawn attention to when there was so much more ahead of him to destroy, the element of destruction thrumming up through his very soul in such a way that it would have been a crime to ignore it.

Leaping, he stomped and took out two planes at once, howling as he rammed them into the ground, broken beyond all repair. There would be no coming back from the path of a macro's destruction and he moved on quickly to the next lot of planes, smaller aircraft that appeared to be for personal use -- private jets and the like. They were sleeker and higher-end to what he had killed thus far and he grabbed two of them at once, although he needed to tip his paws flat so that the weight of their smoothly rolled girths did not tip out of his grip. They would meet the same fate and he smashed them together, wings crumpled like paper, electricity sparking off from what would have made all of them high-tech at some point, but now all they were reduced to was a pile of rubble hardly discernible as a plane or anything similar at all.

More and more lay before him and he laughed and bellowed, charging and stomping as he roared out his unrest, his distaste for all that may have otherwise have sought to hold him back, to calm him down, to say that there was no sense in getting worked up when there was nothing that could be done. Maybe there was nothing positive to be done as the tarmac splintered out underneath his paws like cracks in ice but there was so much of the negative to show them all what for that he would have been severely amiss if he did not take the bait. With a well-aimed kick, he sent one, two, three -- four planes -- flying, although it was a mockery of flight that their engines could have produced, crash landing and smouldering, electrics madly striving to function and, in the art of destruction itself, failing dramatically.

He was power! He was king! They should never have scorned him!

Rolig chuckled, although it was a darker sort of sound than anything else that had ever before had the audacity to pass his lips. But it was not only the planes that he could 'enjoy', if that was the correct way to describe what he was doing, but other things on the runway too, charging about like an oversized kid in a candy shop. Luggage carts were thrown and hurled, the wolf lunging at the tarmac itself to tear it up from the fabric of where it had been laid in great, jagged pulls, eyes wild and narrowed, infuriated at the world that had sought to inconvenience him so terribly. They flew and smashed, crushed beneath his paws, and he closed his toes around them with macabre delight, amused that even doing that displayed his strength, better than anyone who may have sought to stop him.

The terminal buildings... Well, he would not return to the main hub as yet for that was for the sweeter manner of the finale but there were stations and towers filled with electronics that were far too delectable to pass him. They would have been big to him if he'd been his normal size but the towers were puny to a macro Rolig as he ripped them from the ground with one arm, hauling them about and launching them, uncaring of what their function of. A pile of them formed, one after the other meeting the same fate, and he howled, rage fuelling him on and on as he stomped and crushed the pile into oblivion, using both his hind and his forepaws. Anything would do when it came to wrecking the sparking, smouldering mess and he cared not for splinters of glass either, all protected against the threat of terrorism that had never included a giant wolf in their manner of safety procedures.

The jetties or walkways -- whatever they were called -- that took passengers out to the planes, their commercial fare would need to go too and he took great pleasure in snarling as he slammed a hind paw down on each and every one of them, glass shattering, the metal buckling as if it was made out of nothing of any real substance at all. He imagined the people, the furries, that would have walked there before and laughed recklessly, the sound echoing across a landscape where screams and sirens clamoured for attention. But he was too loud and large, rising above it all, to pay them any mind or attention, turning his focus to the main headquarters, a massive glass extravaganza that surely had not been constructed with the focus of sustainability in mind.

No... No, but it did make a statement and it was a display that could be crushed into the dust and, oh, how he did so choose to do that! It would be his final hurrah, his signal to all, and he charged right into the midst of it, wading through a building that was never meant to stand up to a being of his size. Howling, he pummelled his fist through several floors at once, opening up tiny offices and coffee rooms, so small to Rolig that they may as well have been a miniature dollhouse and yet he still took in the details.

All for him. All for his taking.

The centre jutted out from the main hub in separate wings but there was no logic or order to how he went about demolishing it, hammering and smashing, leaping and kicking out so as to better use his hind paws. Concrete and metal crammed between his toes but he did not have it in himself to care as he snarled and raged, roaring out his displeasure to anyone that cared to hear it as the sirens blared and blared their warning call.

Yet there was no warning that Rolig would ever head as he stormed and stamped, clambering up where the building was most reinforced, although he only lamented then that he could not reach the underground sections. He would destroy and yet he did not think of the furs that had to still be running around, only caring about what had been done to him and how he would retaliate. Invincible, he was the worst kind of monster, washing off his paws in the lake to come back for another round, water streaming from them and soaking his heavily furred legs, bulging with muscle that was only set for the arc and art of absolute destruction.

It fell, the city falling as the main hub was destroyed, for transport links were the fascia of a body, a system that needed every part in order to best survive. But what was that to matter to Rolig as he stuck his paw into the heart of the building and ripped out the fountain? What did that matter to a scorned and shunned wolf as he dug out a coffee shop, fancy mugs spewing everywhere, the china shattering in a minute form of destruction as he took on the rest? He was there and he could power through, reducing all to a pile of rubble that, when he finished with it, would not even be recognisable as an airport at all.

Not a plane survived, although one was to be found in broken pieces at the bottom of the lake some time later when the excavation works went to task, striving to find out just what had happened there. But Rolig would never be taken to order or court for what he did, for everyone was looking for a macro monster when all he was, in reality, was a wolf, even if not a very meek one. He could stomp and crush and wreck and destroy all he liked in his true form but no one would ever be able to call him out on that, chowing down on planes and spitting them out again, simply because he didn't like to swallow.

Finally, it was his needs that came above all else as he tore the head base to shreds, glass splintering the sunshine in fractured reflections. And yet he would remember that day forevermore as he cast his eyes out over the ruined airport, the futile endeavour that should have sent him across the world and yet served to ground him in place, hind paws scruffed up from the weight of his responsibility in carrying his colossal body around, sinking into the ground as he left a path of paw prints in his wake for people to wonder at, never truly understanding what had happened there, if what the cameras that had not been unrecoverable had seen was, in fact, true.

Rolig sighed but it was more one of satisfaction, morbid humour rumbling obscenely up from the pit of his stomach. The airport smoked, languishing in demoralised destruction, and he was the only one that could be responsible for it, ears pricking and twitching as his somewhat calmed mind returned to some sense of what and who he was in reality.

Well, his flight sure was going to be extra delayed now...

But that was no longer his problem.