PLEASE READ THIS WARNING!: This story is very much NOT standard for me. It has some modularity-adjacent elements, but is NOT a modular story. It involves content, themes, and fetishes that I don't normally write and may be uncomfortable to some readers. If you are a longtime reader of my content, and read my stories for modular shenanigans, I would advise you skip this one. If you are uncomfortable with fictionalized depictions of incest, skip this story. If you don't like gay furries, guro, or (delayed) perma-death, skip this story.
If, however, you're in the market for a sleezy M/M furry incest story with modular-adjacent gore... this do be that. This story was written on commission by a user who, wisely, wishes to remain anonymous.
-
If you saw them outside the outdated but inviting gym of the University of Sum-Ting & Ottre, you'd be forgiven for assuming that twins James and Jethro Ottre (no relation) weren't the athletic types. While the younger and plumper otter, Jethro, had a bulk that at least suggested he did some lifting, his 20 minutes older and 20 pounds lighter brother James looked nothing but doughy. Appearances deceive, however, and you'd actually have a hard time finding either brother anywhere but the gym, often heading there straight after their classes and staying for hours on end, until one of them declared they were too hungry to go on and casually suggest a trip to the cafeteria. It was always hunger that ended their workouts, allegedly; they were far too competitive to ever admit they were exhausted. They pushed themselves well beyond their limits every day, turnig their work outs into a game of chicken, that both twins were determined to win at any cost.
Today started no different, each brother in turn challenging the another to increasingly absurd feats of machismo. Performing push ups while their twin did crunches on their back, slap fighting on treadmills while trying to increase the other's speed to launch them off, even doing dead lifts and jumping jacks simultaneously. Three and a half hours deep, though neither would admit it, both were wiped out. Even as James stained both sleeves of his varsity jacket wiping tablespoons of sweat out of his short and curly head of hair, and even as Jethro shed his sweat stained t-shirt and bared the barrel chest between his thick square glasses and his jean shorts, neither brother would suggest they call it a night. Particularly not James, as it was his twin's turn. The way he saw it, he just had to break his younger brother before his own turn came to officially win this unofficial contest.
"C'mon, baby bro! You're up!" James cheered, ruffling his twin's distinctive swoop of naturally blonde hair. "Oh, wait a minute, is baby up past his bedtime?"
"Fat chance, I ain't even tired!" Jethro lied, strutting past his brother and plopping down on the sweat-slick bench. "But if you're so eager to call it a night, I'll escort m'lady home! Wouldn't want daddy catching you out past curfew!"
"Oh please, either quit stalling or give someone else a turn on the bench!" James teased, loading100lbs on either side of the bar.
"I just got here, man!" Jethro said, hoisting the bar off the rack and starting his reps. "Besides. Thought you'd appreciate. Being treated like. A proper lady! Been a while since you got any."
"Oh fuck you!" James said, laughing as he loaded another 25lbs to each side mid-rep. Jethro struggled to keep the temporarily unbalanced bar from tipping, his pace slowing as his shoulders strained to compensate, but he never stopped. "Unlike you, I'm no whore! I only date classy dames, dapper gents, and esteemed enbies!"
"Oh please!" Jethro half scoffed and half heaved, as James loaded on yet more weight. "If you could pull tail like me, you would! Face it, fugly, when we were baking in mom's oven, I grabbed the good genes!"
"Yea, grabbed 'em and ate 'em, fatso!" James teased back, slapping on two more plates even as his brother's arms visibly wobbled beneath the weight. He looked into his brother's eyes, his big square glasses fogged up to opacity. James saw he was shot, there was no way he could do another rep. James smiled, bending over and ending up close enough to kiss his brother upside down, before asking "Had your fill yet, tubby?"
Jethro grunted as his arms screamed. He couldn't give up, just one more rep and he could rightly declare it James' turn, and there was no way James could survive what Jethro cooked up! Just one more rep and he'd win!
Jethro gave a grit-toothed smile, and painfully coughed out "More. Weight!"
James stood to his full identical height, shrugged, and added another plate. As he bent over for its twin, however, he discovered that "Crap, someone stole a plate from this set. Hang on, lemme grab another!"
Bounding off to the next nearest bench, James discovered "Tim!", his second favorite study buddy besides Jethro. "Enjoying the show?"
"Hell yeah, though looks like it's about to end!" The goat answered, motioning his scraggly chin towards James' struggling brother.
"Right? There's no way in hell he can do another rep!" James boasted, folding his arms confidently.
"Especially not with you gabbing here, wasting the last few seconds of his strength." Tim said, smiling with wicked appreciation of James' evil genius.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess this is kinda cheating, huh?" James said, only now realizing he couldn't have planned this more perfectly. "Heh, funny! Well, I shouldn't be too much of a dick about this. After all, if Jethro somehow actually manages another rep, he'll basically have free reign to kill me. I'll-"
Tim and James whipped their heads around on reflex as Jethro let out a noise that, in the span of a second or two, went from a heavy sigh to a pained groan to a startled yelp, before finally becoming a panicked scream which was abruptly replaced with dull gurgling. James blinked, and ran the events through his head again to make sense of them. Jethro sighed in concession, the weight too much to bear. Then, his overburdened right arm gave out before his left and he groaned as the limb was forced down. Then, the shift in weight sent him and his weighted bar toppling sideways off the bench with a yelp, the bar flying out of his grip as they went. The panicked scream came as the ancient restraining ring on his bar sheered off from the sheer weight of his plates bearing down fully on the rusted ring, sending the weights above Jethro sliding down the bar to meet their twins on the other side. The scream ended, of course, when the weights came together, with his head in between.
And then there was the gurgling. It wasn't coming from Jethro's head, which had been reduced to an inch inch thick paste and an explosive splatter of brain bits, hair wads, skull fragments, and an almost comically large splash zone of blood. Instead, the gurgling was coming from deeper down Jethro's throat, as blood trickled down his windpipe and threatened to finish him before the functional decapitation could. Jethro's hands, miraculously spared the carnage, limply flopped around the area where his head last was. Feeling the weights, the brainless body pushed and flopped itself away on instinct, believing (as much as a thing without thoughts could believe) that place where breath made was blocked by heavy things, and it must move to resume breath.
With a slurping tear, like someone taking a sloppy bite of pulled pork, Jethro's body jerked and ripped itself free from the weights and what was its head. A spurt of blood blasted out of its windpipe as the body coughed, clearing the blockage. It could breathe again! Whatever that was worth.
"Holy shit!" Tim muttered, wincing as Jethro's body flopped onto its belly and tried to push itself to its hands and knees. It half succeeded, its exhausted arms pushing it into a shaky squat before giving out, leaving Jethro's gurgling stump slumped into the floor while his plump ass hung in the air. His whole body shook with convulsions as his muscles all adopted an 'every man for himself' doctrine. His thick arms flopped uselessly against the ground, his torso tensed and released in sickeningly wet dry heaves, and his thighs, ass, and hips twitched violently.
This caused a small part of James to twitch too, his black slacks growing uncomfortably taught as he stared at his brother's clenched ass, the straps of his jock peeking out from over his jean shorts. James approached his brainless brother, watching with open excitement as his body pitifully tried to fight on. Death of course was no stranger, particularly for prey species. He'd seen countless friends torn apart by predators, classmates and strangers casually eviscerated by accidents or carelessness, even some family and acquaintances who'd thrown their lives away for cheap thrills or to spite an eager predator. The constant threat of impending demise ironically dulled everyone's fear of death, in the same way overindulgence in anything dulled the palette. Death was a fact of life, though this one was different in two small but important ways.
Firstly, if James acted promptly, Jethro could, briefly, survive this. While every species that walked this cruel earth had evolved enough biological redundancies, reflexes, advanced muscle memories, and 'last stand' reserves of energy to survive lethal wounds long enough to at least try and pass on their seed a few more times, prey were particularly resistant as they died more readily, With proper care, Jethro's body could limp along for around two months before succumbing to its beheading.
Secondly, this was his twin. Another version of himself. Convulsing, confused, vulnerable, and oh so delicious. Statistically, this fate would befall James too one day, and he may never get another chance to appreciate his own death while still conscious. Seeing how suddenly Jethro's conscious world had come to an end, James decided then and there that he just had to take this opportunity. He didn't care who watched. He had to have Jethro. Now.
"Holy shit!" Tim repeated, scrambling for his phone as James bent over and grabbed his headless bro by either end, lifting his shoulders up just far enough to keep him from drowning in his own blood while the other slid down James' tight pants and jock strap, squeezing his ass and causing the convulsing body to jolt with reflexive energy. Sliding his hands along Jethro's butt, teasingly slipping a pinkie between his cheeks, Jethro's flopping and convulsing turned to more active animation as reflexes evolved specifically for post-mortem mating activated. Jethro's hips rocked back into James' hand, desperately seeking further stimulation.
"Hahaha, you like that, you big fat slut?" James asked, to enraptured to recall that Jethro couldn't hear him. "Want some more?" He cooed, sliding a hand down his chest and allowing his shoulders to slowly slump back into the ground with a bubbling gurgle as he squeezed his ass with both hands. Grabbing the waistband of Jethro's jock and jeans, James stood and with a heave he hoisted his belated brother off the ground, the body jerking and flailing as it was given the wedgie of a lifetime before spilling out of its clothes and slamming down with a heavy slap.
"Horny to the end, huh?" James teased, patting Jethro's ass as the prone, naked body started gently humping the slightly grimy floor, its cock pressed between its nice warm belly and the cold hard ground. Squeezing tighter, watching Jethro's body hump harder, James decided "Heh, you know, for all your talk about pulling oh-so-much tail, I think it's only fair you gave some back before you go!"
Heaving Jethro onto the exercise bench, throwing his flabby belly over the seat and allowing his limp arms and squirming legs to dangle down uselessly, James wasted no time unbuttoning his slacks and allowing his identically fat cock and balls to flop out. He laid it between his brothers' buns, wondering whether he should bother spit lubing. Not like Jethro cared, his ass twitching, tensing, and bouncing James' cock as if to goad him to hurry up. Shrugging and grabbing Jethro's hips, the body's shoulders arching as a fresh gurgling gasp escaped its truncated throat, James slid back and shoved in. The limp limbs of Jethro's body seized, the whole bench shaking beneath him as James went instantly from zero to full force. Without any capacity to process pain beyond the instant it happened and no emotional response to said pain, the older Ottre (no relation) guiltlessly rode Jethro and focused only on what made him feel good, clapping his cheeks with wild abandon.
"Dude, mind if I start filming?" Tim asked, hovering over James' shoulder with a blush threatening to burst his head like Jethro's.
James stopped and turned to his newly promoted favorite study buddy. "You haven't started?"
Tim laughed, James turned back to his toy, and the goat pulled out his phone and got a better angle to catch all the action. From here, he could see the crazed passion in James' eyes, the way sweat seeped through his varsity jacket more than during his grueling workout, the way Jethro's throat contracted and throbbed with each thrust. The camera drifted down to that pulsating orifice, the goat's mind filling with ideas of what it could do. How deep the throat went. He hunched, his shorts tightening painfully.
"Dude, over here! Hold the camera here! Money shot's coming!" James commanded, holding his hand high above Jethro's back and angled how he wanted Tim's phone. Snapping out of his fantasies, Tim obeyed his friend and held the camera over Jethro's back, centered on James' thrusting hips and Jethro's big butt. "Yeah, there!" James said, unable to actually see the screen but assuming the view was good enough. James closed his eyes and pounded for all he was worth, the claps of his playtime drowning out the ambient sounds of the gym and turning every head that hadn't already decided this spectacle was a worthwhile distraction.
With all eyes on him, James threw his head back and howled, yanking his cock out and spraying loads all over Jethro's heaving back. The brainless body twitched and writhed as the pleasantly warm liquid pelted it, its own cock leaking pre and ready to burst. James stumbled back, pumping himself dry and admiring the mess he'd made.
The spectacle garnered a polite round of applause, James throwing his hands up like a victorious prize fighter. While most quickly lost interest in the scene and returned to their workouts, a few approached James to congratulate him or offer token condolences for his late brother before asking the remaining Ottre for a turn with his body. Most of the attention fell on Tim, though, with a flurry of phone numbers and social media accounts exchanged so they could make use of Tim's video later.
"Thank you thank you, you're too kind!" James announced, wiping his cock off on the fur of Jethro's thigh a few times before stuffing it back into his pants. "Unfortunately, poor little Jethro is all tuckered out, and as his big brother it's my duty to take care of him! He needs a shower, a warm meal, and a good night's rest."
Before the crowd had an opportunity to groan or grouse, a high pitched shriek and five meaty thuds caught their ears. Everyone turned towards the back of the room, to the double doors leading to the locker room, where stood the Jackal triplets Becky, Dina, and Chun (or was it Dina, Becky, and Chun? Everyone always seemed to forget which was which). The sisters on either flank of the center girl held thick, freshly bloodied machetes, while the one in the middle (who James suspected was Dina though Jethro probably would've guessed Chun) held aloft the limbless, headless, squirming torso of one of the school's volleyball playing bitches, Goldie. The retriever's head and limbs lay scattered near the door, her limbs grasping in search of the rest of her while her still living head stared at her killers with a dazed and slightly affronted glare.
"Good catch, sisters! A fine toy collected!" Said the center sister, lowering the busty dog's torso and rubbing it against her rapidly bulging shorts. "Come, let us play! Holes for three!" She announced, lapping up the bubbling blood from Goldie's neck stump and retreating into the locker room.
"Ugh, but I want my own toy!" Pouted left sister, stamping her foot. She licked her lips and glanced at Goldie's head, which gulped in alarm even as her own spit simply slid out onto the floor.
"Oh quit being bitch! Becky get upset we no play with her! Come, this way!" Right sister declared, grabbing left sister's bushy tail and tugging for her to join their alpha-sister Becky.
"But she's so bossy, always making us go at her pace and do what she likes! I want to have my own fun!" Left sister moaned, planting her feet and reaching for Goldie's nervous head.
"Ugh, Dina thinks too much!" Right sister, Chun, groaned. Whipping around, she drove her machete into Dina's head, splitting her skull down the middle and leaving the blade jutting out between her eyes. Dina's jaw went slack, drool spilling out as her eyes unfocused and stared blankly in opposite directions. "There, more agreeable now? Ready go play me and Becky?" Chun ask, sarcastically waggling her machete inside Chun's head to force her to stupidly nod. Chun turned and strode through the doors, her brain damaged and dying sister stumbling obediently behind her, giggling gleefully in anticipation of the fun she was about to have with her favorite family members.
The doors clicked shut. There was a pause, then a scramble as prey and predator alike dog piled Goldie's parts. "Looks like the showers are officially off limits." James joked, chuckling at the irony of his fellow students fighting for a hyena's scraps. Hooking his arms beneath Jethro's pits and around his pecs, James lifted the headless otter onto his feat, slowly letting the body take its own weight as its limited, reflexive motor skills kicked in. James let go and Jethro swayed, but kept his footing, the sweaty, sex stained, and still erect mass of chubby muscle standing with buckled knees and wobbling shoulders like it was only metaphorically smashed. It honestly wasn't too dissimilar from Jethro's old drunk stance, albeit he didn't have the dumb glowing blush. Just the blood red and quickly drying stump that, now that James had a better look at it, was giving him ideas similar to Tim's.
"Hey, uh, I think there's another shower over at the aquatics center." Tim suggested. "I was thinking about calling it a night, too. Getting a good wash. Wanna go? Together?"
James shrugged. "Sure, lead the way! I'll take middle and Jethro will take up the rear. Again." He chucked, tugging at Jethro's wrist. The body stumbled, then slowly started to shamble behind James in a zombie-like gait, its muscles twisting and twitching and throwing themselves forward in a reflexive parody of Jethro's confident power-walk. They trailed Tim quite a ways, Jethro unable to keep pace with the flighty goat, though James didn't seem to mind. He was enjoying the looks he got pulling along his naked, headless, hard as hell twin. The astonished stares, the approving nods, the licking of lips, and the whistles and cat calls of jealous onlookers filled James with a sense of pride normally reserved for predators. He was parading his catch for all to see, and what a catch he was!
"Damn, even without a head your bro's got game!" Tim Joked, holding open the aquatics center door.
"Tell me about it." James chuckled. "Between you and me, I might actually be a bit jealous." he whispered, turning to Tim and cupping a hand around his mouth as if Jethro may overhear. Stepping through the door, James flinched as Jethro's body slammed right into the wall adjacent to the door. "Uh, though maybe not." James amended, guiding his blind brother around the obstruction.
While the gym was rather outdated, the aquatics center of the University of Sum-Ting & Ottre (no relation) was well funded and recently renovated, featuring pools of all shapes, sizes, and temperatures to fit the needs of any creature looking for a dip. That said, at this time of day at this time of year in this part of the country, this localized center was largely empty. No matter how heated pools, stepping out into the cool and windy winter nights after a dip was just begging to catch a cold. As far as James could tell, the only people in here tonight were himself, his headless boy toy, Tim, and whoever was getting murdered in the locker rooms.
"Oh, come on!" James huffed. Even from just past the front door, the otter could hear the clear sounds of some brutal scene playing out across the long, cavernous space. Smashing, crashing, the clashing of muscle and metal, and no fewer than four voices swearing and screaming at each other in the midst of their presumably deadly duel. A trail of smeared and bloody hand prints lined the back wall all the way up to the rear exit, where some retreating combatant had limped away to receive treatment or die alone.
"Yeah. Some kinda shark battle royale. Been going on at least half an hour. Six went in, I think, though as far as I've seen only the Tiger Shark's bowed out. Well, hopped out. Was holding one of his legs between what teeth he had left." Came a voice from behind the trio of clueless prey, causing Tim and James to spin on their heels while the younger Ottre deafly and dumbly didn't move an inch.
Leaning in a chair propped up in the shadowy corner nearest the door was a young and rather cute lemur, wearing the uniform of the school's janitorial staff. As with most universities, most businesses in fact, janitors made up the bulk of the staff, though that didn't seem to make her eager to do any work.
"Damn. Bloody night. At least three got mangled at the gym." James said, motioning at Jethro's body.
"Eh, a bit I guess. Truth be told, nothing below a dozen dead raises an eyebrow any more." The lemur said, just before raising her eyebrow and leering at Jethro's plump, filthy ass. "Although, your friend here is certainly a sight. That Jethro?"
"Uh, yeah. How'd you know him?" James asked, certain that his brother couldn't pass up a chance to brag about sleeping with such a fine, if shabby, specimen.
"Heard things. Word gets around about fellas like him." The lemur said, shrugging. "His head back at the gym?"
"What's left of it. Got squashed between some weight plates, nothing but goo, now." James answered, nodding at Tim.
Digging his phone out, Tim brought up the video of Jethro's body, and showed it to the lemur, pointing to a tiny corner of the screen not taken up by Jethro's ass pounding and explaining "You can kinda see it there in the background, a bit."
"Shame. Was hoping to get a piece of him before he went." The lemur mused, biting her lip as she watched. "Well, I suppose I still can.'" She said, standing up and strutting over to his headless body, sliding a finger across his ass and collecting a smear of cum which she playfully sampled as the body shivered with delight.
"Actually, uh, we're pretty tired. Long night, y'know. We actually came here just so we could grab a shower before bed." He said, playing dumb. Just then, the double doors of the locker room burst open, a great white shark girl thrown into them with enough force to split her in half on the reinforced door divider before sailing into the Olympic sized pool, where the legs instinctively started swimming away while the top half swore and paddled after her own fleeing ass. "Though, uh, looks like the shower's not happening." James muttered, wrapping an arm around Jethro and squeezing him like a teddy bear.
"Yeah. I ain't even gonna start cleaning that mess until the dust settles." The janitor said, shaking her head as the unseen brawl continued. "Still, I'd be happy to wash up the late Ottre for you in one of the heated pools. Cleaning up other peoples' messes is sort of my specialty."
"I, uh, would really prefer to do it myself, actually. I kinda killed him, by accident, and he's kind of my responsibility now, you know? I mean, even more than before. He was my brother, after all." James said, looking embarrassed and jealous as the lemur ran her thumb around one of Jethro's hard nipples. In truth, renting out Jethro's body like a cheap toy didn't sit well with him. He was more than that. They'd been inseparable in life, and now that Jethro was for all intents and purposes dead, he wanted to savor all the time he had left together. It was the least he could do to make it up to him.
The lemur sighed, seeing the unmistakable spark of love in James' eyes. "Alright, alright. But if you're gonna wash him off in these pools, you can't stop me from watching!" She said, taking up her seat in the corner. "What about you, camera guy, you up for something dirty?" The Janitor teased, spreading her legs wide and unzipping her khakis.
"Well, uh, I mean, I'm flattered, but uh..." He stammered.
"What he means to say is he's gay." James teased, playfully shoving Tim's shoulder as he marched Jethro over to the nearest heated pool.
"Damn. Girl can't catch a break tonight." The janitor huffed, sliding a hand down her pants and shamelessly rubbing herself in front of the blushing goat. "Would you at least be kind enough to send me the vids?" She asked, jerking her chin past Tim to the pool James had just sat Jethro beside as the older Ottre stripped to his bare ass.
Tim gulped, admiring the older brother's sleeker, but equally soft figure, wishing he'd volunteered for more than camera duty. Still, he dutifully pulled out his camera and approached, getting a good shot of James bending over and gently easing Jethro into the small, shallow pool designed for physical therapy. While he couldn't tell how hot the water was, he had to assume from the way the younger Ottre shook with delight that it was perfect for the natural born swimmer.
A bit too natural born, in fact, as the body instinctively pitched forward and tried to swim, only to immediately begin thrashing violently as water flooded down its throat and windpipe.
"Shit!" James hissed, hopping into the pool and manhandling his arms around his wildly thrashing twin, struggling to get him under control and get his stump above water. Heaving Jethro up like he was trying to suplex him, a gyser of water erupted from the body's gaping stump as it was brought back into a standing position in the waist deep part of the pool. James waited for Jethro to calm down, then slowly released his grip, waiting for any sign that he'd start swimming again. While it was impossible for the body to learn anything, it at least stayed standing with James' guidance. "Shit, how am I supposed to wash you properly if you won't hold your breath?" he wondered.
"Sponge bath?" Tim suggested, taking up position beside the pool.
"Did you bring a sponge with you?" James asked dubiously, reassuringly stroking Jethro's biceps as the body nervously shook.
"Who carries a sponge around with them?" Tim admitted, just before a light bulb went off in his mind. "Hey, janitor lady, can we borrow a sponge?"
"Not sure. Might need it to clean you off the floor, camera boy." The janitor teased.
"What?" Tim wondered, right before taking a knee to the side of the head. Dazed and reeling, Tim dumbly watched the plump ass half of a great white stumble and collapse into a heap, the dying legs kicking limply without the energy left to right themselves.
A moment later, Tim heard a viscous "MOVE!", and felt a scrabbling claw dig into his face. He screamed, twisting away from the attack on instinct and tumbling into the pool. He thrashed, remembered how that went for Jethro, then calmed down and took a moment to figure out which way was up before putting his legs under him and standing. He rose out of the water just in time to watch the busty top half of great white flop down between her own weakly kicking legs, shuddering as she gave her own pussy a few good, long, and forceful licks, before slumping over dead. Predators, for all their other physical advantages, succumbed to wounds much more readily than prey.
Tim took a few long, deep breaths, the adrenaline subsiding, then hissed and grabbed at his face as the pain broke through the calm. "A little more warning next time?!" He roared, staring daggers into the snickering janitor. Or, rather, staring a single dagger, for the great white's claw had neatly gouged out his right eye and left only a bleeding hole.
"You're the camera guy, it's your job to see what's going on!" She teased, waving jovially as Tim flipped her off. "Though if you want some pointers, maybe turn your attention to what's behind you."
Tim flipped around, half expecting another shark to pounce on him, only to discover that a sponge would no longer be necessary.
"I figured it out!" James said, smiling as he pat Jethro's upturned and heaving belly. The otter now floated on its back, his windpipe plugged with James' pinkie while his rebounded cock blocked the other, wider throat hole. "Hurry up and grab the camera, not sure how long he can hold his breath." James said, carefully pumping into Jethro's throat and struggling not to slip out of either hole. "Not sure how long I can, either." He joked, leaning over to take Jethro's painfully swollen cock into his mouth in a position colloquially known as the 'fifty-nine'.
Shaking his head, Tim dragged himself out of the pool and grabbed his phone, resting his head on the dead shark's back like a pillow as he filmed James and Jethro's fun, fantasizing about being in his place. Either of their places, really.
-
"Fuck, they told me it'd stop itching by now." Tim complained, reaching up to scratch at his eye patch only to force his hand back down. The nurse warned him that scratching at it was liable to infect the wound, and of all the ways Tim could die he'd never choose infection. Nobody that died of infection ever made it into the school's hall of fame.
Strolling through the aisles of displays, twisting his head back and forth to give his remaining eye a good view, Tim noted some familiar faces and bodies sans-faces. The body of a fennec fashion model wearing her magnum opus, a dress designed to flaunt her own headlessness. The dour head of the boar who'd last captained the girl's wrestling team, and won her last match even after a rhino popped her head off between her thighs. The still living heads of an albino boy and a green haired girl bat, set up facing one another so they could spend their last days trying to set the record for longest lip reading conversation ever held by severed heads. A pair of brains floating in a single over sized jar of clear blue goo, a bigger purple pony brain and a smaller brown mink's brain, both sporting a second-place pin for the collegiate science fair jammed into their frontal lobes.
"Bet they woulda won first if the preservative hadn't discolored them." Tim noted, rolling his eye.
Maneuvering through the maze of trophy parts, the goat finally arrived at the hall's newest display, the one he'd come first thing in the morning to see.
"As good looking as ever, Jethro!" Tim noted, standing on his tippy-toes to peer down his neck stump. By now the stump had healed over, leaving only two holes amid a flat, pink expanse of skin. His body had been posed proudly in its graduation gown, an honorary diploma held high in one hand while the other held the cap that would otherwise have gone on his head.
"You don't look so bad either, James." Tim Teased, turning to the older of the Otter twins, who was beside his brother behind the glass. Dressed in his old tennis uniform, squatting down in permanent readiness for an unseen serve, Tim could see James' much fresher and still unhealed stump without any effort. As they'd kept themselves in good shape, and died without too much damage to their vitals, their bodies could go a few more weeks before they'd need to be taxidermied. Jethro would be due first, in about a week or maybe two, but definitely no more than three. While James could go on, for the sake of convenience they'd probably put both brothers under the knife together.
Tim sighed, and lamented "Sucks you let winning go to your head. Was hoping to ask you out after the championship." He glanced down at his phone, smiling as he rewatched James' last ridiculous victory dance. He'd been so caught up gloating that he hadn't noticed his alligator opponent storming across the court until the big mother fucker bit his head clean off. At least the ref disqualified that sore loser. Tim heard his coach sent him to the food court and had him served up as punishment, though maybe that was wishful thinking. Hard to tell; gators taste just like chicken.
Tim looked up at the three plaques, two commemorating his former friends.
Jethro R. Ottre, 03.05.00-10.18.22, School Donor
James P. Ottre, 03.05.00-12.02.22, Former Star
Do not tap the glass.
Tim focused on this last warning, glancing between both bodies as they twitched ever so slightly with each breath. He scratched his scraggly goatee, and as casually as he could, he glanced around for security or cameras. What's the WORST that could happen? He leaned in, real close.
Tim bolted upright at the unmistakable click of a door opening behind him, the goat quickly ducking behind a case containing a huge headless boar's body holding its own winking head. He wasn't sure why he hid, but was happy he did so when he saw the familiar face of the lemur janitor poking out from behind a door labeled "janitor's office", peering around like she didn't want to be seen. Mistakenly satisfied that no one had spotted her, the lemur slid out and whistled casually as she made her way to the hall's front door.
Tim breathed a sigh of relief and stepped out from behind the case. "The hell was she so paranoid about?" He wondered, completely missing the irony. Looking at the door to her office, Tim could see that despite closing and locking automatically, it hadn't actually closed all the way and by extension hadn't locked. Curious, he tiptoed over and carefully pulled the door open a crack, peeking in to ensure the lemur didn't share her office with some other janitors still inside.
"What the hell?" Tim whispered, stepping into the office. There was indeed someone else inside, though the goat didn't care if he was caught snooping by a dead man. Sitting on the janitor's desk, surrounded by a sea of newspaper clippings, framed photos, and empty trophy plaques, was an otter head mounted to a plaque along with what was presumably his cock mounted to another adjacent plaque. Or, rather, an Ottre's head, judging by the unnaturally natural blond hair with a swooping curl that only Jethro had. But of course, this head couldn't be Jethro's, for his had been reduced to chunky salsa. Getting closer, Tim saw that the head was, crucially, ALMOST identical to Jethro's, though crucially it was only 'almost', being a bit leaner and sporting a pencil thin blond moustache to mach his hair. And the cock definitely hadn't been extricated from beneath Jethro's robes, for it had some aging gray hairs around its base.
Leaning over the head(s), Tim read the inscriptions on the plaques:
Edvard M. Ottre, founder of our beloved school
Manhood of Edvard M. Ottre, sower of his fine seed