Fic: Not A Pretty Story, 4/?
Title: Not A Pretty Story, 4/?
Summary: Naboo has his reasons. Vince has a job to do. Howard has leaves in his hair.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: accusations of bestiality, non-consensual sex, anatomically canon!Naboo, bodily fluids, violence, psychological torture and a more than usually convoluted plot. But thankfully no more tentacles for the time being
Length: about 2150 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own these lovely (and not-so-lovely) characters, I just borrow them to play with and nobody pays me for doing so
Notes: I am having big second thoughts about this story, but there are still some bits of it that I quite like, and anyway I hate to abandon a fic several chapters in, so I'm going to keep on keeping on until I get to the end. I really, really didn’t want to have to write the first bit of this chapter, but once I’d seen it I couldn’t un-see it. Poor Naboo. What is it about him that makes me want to give him such a hard time?
Not A Pretty Story, 4/?
If there’s one thing Naboo has learned from all this, it’s never to trust a pink ballbag alien when he says he can perform a memory-erasing spell.To be fair, Tony Harrison had casually said that Fossil ‘might still fancy you a bit’, but Naboo was unprepared for what that might actually mean.
For the first few days after the accident it had been just like before: just a crush. Naboo had been laid up on the sofa in his kiosk, with his ankle strapped up by the zoo vet, and Fossil kept coming to check on him, making him cups of tea, bringing him cake and the newspapers to read, asking him a million times over whether there was anything else he wanted, then hanging around in the kiosk for ages even though Naboo had said ‘no’.
It was OK (if a bit annoying) so long as it was just inane chatter and longing glances. But before long Fossil’s activities had escalated, first into touching and cuddling up on the sofa, then into groping, then into out-and-out sex whether Naboo wanted it or not, and he definitely didn’t.
The sex was at least partly Bainbridge’s fault. He’d casually barged into Fossil’s office one day when Fossil had cornered Naboo (who still couldn’t run very fast with his dodgy ankle) against the filing cabinet and was sticking a sweaty hand up his robes. Bainbridge pulled up a chair and settled down to watch, then began to make lewd suggestions, palming himself through his immaculately tailored trousers.
Fossil had eagerly gone along with several of the suggestions. It wasn’t clear whether he was getting off more on Bainbridge’s approval or on the things he was doing to Naboo, but his enthusiasm was very evident and Naboo was just grateful it didn’t last longer.
A few days later Naboo woke from a stoned-out doze to find himself being rogered on his own sofa, with Bainbridge leaning casually against the wall and suggesting Fossil try handcuffs, rope, a mask....
It could have been worse.
The following week, it was.
‘I thought I’d spice things up a little today, I’ve brought along some items from my personal collection.’ Naboo still hadn’t entirely recovered from Fossil’s previous attentions, and several of Bainbridge’s ‘items’ were really too big for him, but the gag they’d forced into his mouth, and the relentless cheery music blaring from the radio, muffled his cries for help and his pleas for them to stop.
Afterwards he’d lain helplessly on the cold floor of Fossil’s office, sobbing and shivering and wet in places where he shouldn’t have been wet, with fluids he shouldn’t have been wet with, while Fossil pawed at him and drooled over him, trying to offer comfort, his puppy-dog sloppiness somehow harder to bear than the violence that had gone before.
‘We shouldn’t do this any more, m’Bainbridge, it’s too risky. What if someone hears about this? They might take him away. Or he might leave.’
‘Get off him, Fossil.’ Bainbridge hauled Naboo to his feet and leered at him. ‘Bobby doesn’t need to worry, does he? Because I know something he doesn’t. You can’t go away. Oh, don’t ask me how I know. Nobody here has secrets from me. I own this zoo. And I might as well own you, too. So you’re going to do what you’re told, aren’t you?’
Naboo nodded.
‘God, you’re pathetic. Get dressed and get out of my sight. Until next time you’re called for.’
The nightmare had no end. Naboo could barely remember the beginning.
But one morning, a drizzly autumnal Monday, there came a moment when something changed.
Naboo was bent over Fossil’s office chair and doing his best to make Fossil come as soon as possible, something he was getting better at. He took a deep breath and tightened everything he could bear to tighten.
‘Oh, yes, oh, feels so good, Vince, YES...’
Helpless, aching and humiliated as he was, in that moment Naboo felt a stirring of hope.
There might after all be a way to escape. A way to shift Fossil’s focus. The thought crossed Naboo’s mind, leaving a trail of dirty footprints he couldn’t erase.
Nobody saw him make a swift visit to the keepers’ hut that afternoon.
...
‘Yes.’
Naboo’s answer has been a long time in coming. Vince waits for another minute or two, in case Naboo wants to add more to that, but apparently he doesn’t. Or can’t.
‘So... you got Howard fired. An’ how was that supposed to help exactly?’
Naboo looks up, but he can’t look Vince in the eye. ‘I thought - I hoped Fossil would go back to tryin’ to get off with you, like he used to. He always had the hots for you before all this happened. If Howard was sacked, an’ you’d gone off him... it would mean you were available again...’
‘To be bummed by Fossil?’ Vince squeaks indignantly. ‘Thanks a bunch.’
‘Sorry, but I reckoned you’d deal with it better than me. I don’t really know much about human sex, not even after... I don’t know how it’s s’posed to work. And to be honest I didn’t fink you’d really miss Howard anyway, you’re always puttin’ him down an’ he pisses you off an’ orders you about…’ Naboo falters into silence.
Vince resists the urge to thump him. It’s not his fault he’s alien and confused and off his tits on drugs half the time. And sometimes his plans are genius, although this one was way off the mark. Surely the solution was simple. ‘But there must be loads of other places where a mighty shaman can get a job. Why didn’t you just leave?’
‘That’s just it. I can’t. Couldn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘When I came to earth I was accidentally hefted to this location.’
‘What’s hefted?’
‘Stuck. That prat Dennis got the spells mixed up.’
‘Who the fuck’s Dennis?’
Naboo sighs. ‘Short version, he’s my shaman superior, an’ he’s a bit rubbish. He sent me here, it was the perfect hiding place for… never mind that, let’s just say there were people lookin’ for me… but the stupid tit bonded me to the Zooniverse instead of just concealin’ me within it. So I ’ad to come right ’ere every single day, ’s why I never took holidays an’ never got to be on the Board of Shamen, could never make the meetin’s cos they’re almost always on the planet Xooberon an’ I can’t get there an’ back in a day with my crappy carpet. But now…’
‘What’s happened?’ Vince is confused by all this talk of boards and rugs and other worlds, but he knows that what’s coming next is something bad, he can see it in Naboo’s pale face.
‘Got Howard sacked for nothin’, didn’t I. Cos I just found out I’ll be free soon anyway.’ Naboo stares down at the floor. ‘Short version again, I was hiding an’ I overheard Bainbridge telling Fossil that he’s getting out of the zoo business for good, because the animal welfare people are onto him. He’s gonna open a chain of clubs instead. Fossil’s goin’ to be the manager of his flagship nightspot an’ the zoo’ll be flattened an’ built on. Starting tomorrow.’
Vince’s hands are shaking. ‘This is a nightmare. Naboo, tell me it’s not happening. The zoo’s closing, but is it really closing? Come on, that worked last time. There has to be a way...’
‘There isn’t. Not this time. It’s really the end, Vince. All the animals are being shipped out before closing time, there’s a massive lorry on the way.’ Naboo looks more serious than Vince has ever seen him. He rubs at his reddened eyes. ‘Listen, I gotta go get Bollo out of ’ere. I promised him he could be my familiar. He’s the one thing I want to keep from this crappy place. An’ you need to do something too.’
‘What? What can I do? This is terrible, I only know how to be a zookeeper and have fabulous hair, an’ how will I afford hair product now? I’ve got no future. I’ve got nothing.’
‘Yeah, you do. You’ve got Howard.’
‘Howard? Howard hates me.’
‘Well, maybe he does, but... Look.’ Naboo passes Vince an empty teacup.
Vince squints through his tears at the wonky tealeaf letters. ‘HOWARD IS VICIOUS FUCKER?’
‘HOWARD IS VINCE’S FUTURE, ya shortsighted ballbag.’ Naboo’s voice has recovered its usual even tone. ‘The tealeaves are never wrong. Go an’ find Howard, make it right with him.’
Howard is the one person Vince wants to see right now, more than anything. Howard will know what to do in this situation. He’s a man of action, he’s good at plans, he’ll have a plan for what you do when your whole world has suddenly been blown apart, and if Vince can make his apology apologetic enough, then maybe Howard’s plan will include Vince too. But - ‘How will I find him? I don’t know where he’s gone, I never knew his address or anything, not even a phone number, he doesn’t have a mobile...’
‘Stop panicking, he hasn’t gone far. He’s hiding in a bush in the park over the road, hoping the protesters won’t spot him.’
‘Cheers, Naboo, you’re a diamond.’ Vince gets up and heads for the door.
‘Good luck. An’ don’t bother coming to work tomorrow, there won’t be any. Don’t let Bainbridge see you go. Slip out through the side gate behind the canteen.’
‘But there isn’t a side gate behind the canteen.’
Naboo murmurs a few magic words; gives Vince a half-smile. ‘For the next twenty minutes, there is.’
‘Genius.’ Vince hesitates in the doorway. ‘Will you be OK?’
‘I’ll be fine. Here, wait a sec.’ Naboo rummages in the pile of papers on the coffee table and produces a glossy blue business card. ‘Don’t lose that. I bought this place a while ago just in case. Gonna make a new start in retail. If you ever need my help…’
Vince slips the card into his inside pocket. ‘We’ll come an’ look you up. Take care.’
‘You too... Well, what are you waiting for? You’ve got nineteen minutes. Get going.’
…
‘Howard.’ Feeling a bit of a prat, Vince addresses what he hopes is the right bush. He’s sure he heard it sniff a moment or two ago, in a very Howardy sort of way. ‘Howard. Howard? Howard, Howard…’
The bush sighs resignedly and says: ‘What?’
‘I’m sorry. An’... I brought your coat.’
There’s a long silence before Howard shuffles out, crumpled and defeated. There are dead leaves in his tousled hair. He takes the coat without saying anything.
Vince fidgets from one foot to the other. ‘Listen, I know you’re mad at me, but there’s some things I need to say before you go home.’
‘How can I go home?’ Howard snaps. ‘My keys, my wallet, I left them in the keepers’ hut.’
‘They’re in the left-hand pocket. So’s your jazz dictionary. An’ I brought your box of records as well.’ Vince puts the heavy box on the ground by Howard’s feet.
‘Thank you.’ Howard shrugs his way into the coat; checks the pockets for his keys. ‘What… what did you want to say?’
‘The photos were faked.’
Howard snorts. ‘Like I didn’t know that.’
‘Well, I didn’t. But now I do. Naboo faked them.’
‘Why on earth?’
‘That’s... not important right now. Listen, the zoo’s bein’ closed down. For real this time.’
Vince braces himself for an outpouring of shock, indignation, grief, fury and tuneless singing about Tommy Nooka.
After a few minutes he opens his eyes again. Howard is just standing there, hands in pockets, his face as blank as the portrait Vince remembers painting, the one where Howard looked like a featureless pink balloon because Vince was so mesmerised by all the details he could see in Howard’s face - the eyes, the hair, the laughter lines, the moustache - that he simply couldn’t paint any of them.
After another few minutes Vince realises he’s staring. He looks hastily down at the ground and mumbles: ‘Howard, I don’t have a job either now. An’ I’m sorry I said what I did, an’ if you want some company on the way home…’
Howard picks up the box. ‘Well, come on if you’re coming.’
Vince takes that as a ‘yes’, and tags along after Howard, walking as fast as he can to keep up with those long Northern legs.
But when they turn the last corner, there’s an angry mob of animal rights protesters outside Howard’s building, waving badger placards and chanting.
Howard retreats hastily into a shop doorway. ‘Bainbridge must have told them where I live.’
‘My place, then,’ Vince says quietly. ‘It’s not far.’
Summary: Naboo has his reasons. Vince has a job to do. Howard has leaves in his hair.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: accusations of bestiality, non-consensual sex, anatomically canon!Naboo, bodily fluids, violence, psychological torture and a more than usually convoluted plot. But thankfully no more tentacles for the time being
Length: about 2150 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own these lovely (and not-so-lovely) characters, I just borrow them to play with and nobody pays me for doing so
Notes: I am having big second thoughts about this story, but there are still some bits of it that I quite like, and anyway I hate to abandon a fic several chapters in, so I'm going to keep on keeping on until I get to the end. I really, really didn’t want to have to write the first bit of this chapter, but once I’d seen it I couldn’t un-see it. Poor Naboo. What is it about him that makes me want to give him such a hard time?
Not A Pretty Story, 4/?
If there’s one thing Naboo has learned from all this, it’s never to trust a pink ballbag alien when he says he can perform a memory-erasing spell.To be fair, Tony Harrison had casually said that Fossil ‘might still fancy you a bit’, but Naboo was unprepared for what that might actually mean.
For the first few days after the accident it had been just like before: just a crush. Naboo had been laid up on the sofa in his kiosk, with his ankle strapped up by the zoo vet, and Fossil kept coming to check on him, making him cups of tea, bringing him cake and the newspapers to read, asking him a million times over whether there was anything else he wanted, then hanging around in the kiosk for ages even though Naboo had said ‘no’.
It was OK (if a bit annoying) so long as it was just inane chatter and longing glances. But before long Fossil’s activities had escalated, first into touching and cuddling up on the sofa, then into groping, then into out-and-out sex whether Naboo wanted it or not, and he definitely didn’t.
The sex was at least partly Bainbridge’s fault. He’d casually barged into Fossil’s office one day when Fossil had cornered Naboo (who still couldn’t run very fast with his dodgy ankle) against the filing cabinet and was sticking a sweaty hand up his robes. Bainbridge pulled up a chair and settled down to watch, then began to make lewd suggestions, palming himself through his immaculately tailored trousers.
Fossil had eagerly gone along with several of the suggestions. It wasn’t clear whether he was getting off more on Bainbridge’s approval or on the things he was doing to Naboo, but his enthusiasm was very evident and Naboo was just grateful it didn’t last longer.
A few days later Naboo woke from a stoned-out doze to find himself being rogered on his own sofa, with Bainbridge leaning casually against the wall and suggesting Fossil try handcuffs, rope, a mask....
It could have been worse.
The following week, it was.
‘I thought I’d spice things up a little today, I’ve brought along some items from my personal collection.’ Naboo still hadn’t entirely recovered from Fossil’s previous attentions, and several of Bainbridge’s ‘items’ were really too big for him, but the gag they’d forced into his mouth, and the relentless cheery music blaring from the radio, muffled his cries for help and his pleas for them to stop.
Afterwards he’d lain helplessly on the cold floor of Fossil’s office, sobbing and shivering and wet in places where he shouldn’t have been wet, with fluids he shouldn’t have been wet with, while Fossil pawed at him and drooled over him, trying to offer comfort, his puppy-dog sloppiness somehow harder to bear than the violence that had gone before.
‘We shouldn’t do this any more, m’Bainbridge, it’s too risky. What if someone hears about this? They might take him away. Or he might leave.’
‘Get off him, Fossil.’ Bainbridge hauled Naboo to his feet and leered at him. ‘Bobby doesn’t need to worry, does he? Because I know something he doesn’t. You can’t go away. Oh, don’t ask me how I know. Nobody here has secrets from me. I own this zoo. And I might as well own you, too. So you’re going to do what you’re told, aren’t you?’
Naboo nodded.
‘God, you’re pathetic. Get dressed and get out of my sight. Until next time you’re called for.’
The nightmare had no end. Naboo could barely remember the beginning.
But one morning, a drizzly autumnal Monday, there came a moment when something changed.
Naboo was bent over Fossil’s office chair and doing his best to make Fossil come as soon as possible, something he was getting better at. He took a deep breath and tightened everything he could bear to tighten.
‘Oh, yes, oh, feels so good, Vince, YES...’
Helpless, aching and humiliated as he was, in that moment Naboo felt a stirring of hope.
There might after all be a way to escape. A way to shift Fossil’s focus. The thought crossed Naboo’s mind, leaving a trail of dirty footprints he couldn’t erase.
Nobody saw him make a swift visit to the keepers’ hut that afternoon.
...
‘Yes.’
Naboo’s answer has been a long time in coming. Vince waits for another minute or two, in case Naboo wants to add more to that, but apparently he doesn’t. Or can’t.
‘So... you got Howard fired. An’ how was that supposed to help exactly?’
Naboo looks up, but he can’t look Vince in the eye. ‘I thought - I hoped Fossil would go back to tryin’ to get off with you, like he used to. He always had the hots for you before all this happened. If Howard was sacked, an’ you’d gone off him... it would mean you were available again...’
‘To be bummed by Fossil?’ Vince squeaks indignantly. ‘Thanks a bunch.’
‘Sorry, but I reckoned you’d deal with it better than me. I don’t really know much about human sex, not even after... I don’t know how it’s s’posed to work. And to be honest I didn’t fink you’d really miss Howard anyway, you’re always puttin’ him down an’ he pisses you off an’ orders you about…’ Naboo falters into silence.
Vince resists the urge to thump him. It’s not his fault he’s alien and confused and off his tits on drugs half the time. And sometimes his plans are genius, although this one was way off the mark. Surely the solution was simple. ‘But there must be loads of other places where a mighty shaman can get a job. Why didn’t you just leave?’
‘That’s just it. I can’t. Couldn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘When I came to earth I was accidentally hefted to this location.’
‘What’s hefted?’
‘Stuck. That prat Dennis got the spells mixed up.’
‘Who the fuck’s Dennis?’
Naboo sighs. ‘Short version, he’s my shaman superior, an’ he’s a bit rubbish. He sent me here, it was the perfect hiding place for… never mind that, let’s just say there were people lookin’ for me… but the stupid tit bonded me to the Zooniverse instead of just concealin’ me within it. So I ’ad to come right ’ere every single day, ’s why I never took holidays an’ never got to be on the Board of Shamen, could never make the meetin’s cos they’re almost always on the planet Xooberon an’ I can’t get there an’ back in a day with my crappy carpet. But now…’
‘What’s happened?’ Vince is confused by all this talk of boards and rugs and other worlds, but he knows that what’s coming next is something bad, he can see it in Naboo’s pale face.
‘Got Howard sacked for nothin’, didn’t I. Cos I just found out I’ll be free soon anyway.’ Naboo stares down at the floor. ‘Short version again, I was hiding an’ I overheard Bainbridge telling Fossil that he’s getting out of the zoo business for good, because the animal welfare people are onto him. He’s gonna open a chain of clubs instead. Fossil’s goin’ to be the manager of his flagship nightspot an’ the zoo’ll be flattened an’ built on. Starting tomorrow.’
Vince’s hands are shaking. ‘This is a nightmare. Naboo, tell me it’s not happening. The zoo’s closing, but is it really closing? Come on, that worked last time. There has to be a way...’
‘There isn’t. Not this time. It’s really the end, Vince. All the animals are being shipped out before closing time, there’s a massive lorry on the way.’ Naboo looks more serious than Vince has ever seen him. He rubs at his reddened eyes. ‘Listen, I gotta go get Bollo out of ’ere. I promised him he could be my familiar. He’s the one thing I want to keep from this crappy place. An’ you need to do something too.’
‘What? What can I do? This is terrible, I only know how to be a zookeeper and have fabulous hair, an’ how will I afford hair product now? I’ve got no future. I’ve got nothing.’
‘Yeah, you do. You’ve got Howard.’
‘Howard? Howard hates me.’
‘Well, maybe he does, but... Look.’ Naboo passes Vince an empty teacup.
Vince squints through his tears at the wonky tealeaf letters. ‘HOWARD IS VICIOUS FUCKER?’
‘HOWARD IS VINCE’S FUTURE, ya shortsighted ballbag.’ Naboo’s voice has recovered its usual even tone. ‘The tealeaves are never wrong. Go an’ find Howard, make it right with him.’
Howard is the one person Vince wants to see right now, more than anything. Howard will know what to do in this situation. He’s a man of action, he’s good at plans, he’ll have a plan for what you do when your whole world has suddenly been blown apart, and if Vince can make his apology apologetic enough, then maybe Howard’s plan will include Vince too. But - ‘How will I find him? I don’t know where he’s gone, I never knew his address or anything, not even a phone number, he doesn’t have a mobile...’
‘Stop panicking, he hasn’t gone far. He’s hiding in a bush in the park over the road, hoping the protesters won’t spot him.’
‘Cheers, Naboo, you’re a diamond.’ Vince gets up and heads for the door.
‘Good luck. An’ don’t bother coming to work tomorrow, there won’t be any. Don’t let Bainbridge see you go. Slip out through the side gate behind the canteen.’
‘But there isn’t a side gate behind the canteen.’
Naboo murmurs a few magic words; gives Vince a half-smile. ‘For the next twenty minutes, there is.’
‘Genius.’ Vince hesitates in the doorway. ‘Will you be OK?’
‘I’ll be fine. Here, wait a sec.’ Naboo rummages in the pile of papers on the coffee table and produces a glossy blue business card. ‘Don’t lose that. I bought this place a while ago just in case. Gonna make a new start in retail. If you ever need my help…’
Vince slips the card into his inside pocket. ‘We’ll come an’ look you up. Take care.’
‘You too... Well, what are you waiting for? You’ve got nineteen minutes. Get going.’
…
‘Howard.’ Feeling a bit of a prat, Vince addresses what he hopes is the right bush. He’s sure he heard it sniff a moment or two ago, in a very Howardy sort of way. ‘Howard. Howard? Howard, Howard…’
The bush sighs resignedly and says: ‘What?’
‘I’m sorry. An’... I brought your coat.’
There’s a long silence before Howard shuffles out, crumpled and defeated. There are dead leaves in his tousled hair. He takes the coat without saying anything.
Vince fidgets from one foot to the other. ‘Listen, I know you’re mad at me, but there’s some things I need to say before you go home.’
‘How can I go home?’ Howard snaps. ‘My keys, my wallet, I left them in the keepers’ hut.’
‘They’re in the left-hand pocket. So’s your jazz dictionary. An’ I brought your box of records as well.’ Vince puts the heavy box on the ground by Howard’s feet.
‘Thank you.’ Howard shrugs his way into the coat; checks the pockets for his keys. ‘What… what did you want to say?’
‘The photos were faked.’
Howard snorts. ‘Like I didn’t know that.’
‘Well, I didn’t. But now I do. Naboo faked them.’
‘Why on earth?’
‘That’s... not important right now. Listen, the zoo’s bein’ closed down. For real this time.’
Vince braces himself for an outpouring of shock, indignation, grief, fury and tuneless singing about Tommy Nooka.
After a few minutes he opens his eyes again. Howard is just standing there, hands in pockets, his face as blank as the portrait Vince remembers painting, the one where Howard looked like a featureless pink balloon because Vince was so mesmerised by all the details he could see in Howard’s face - the eyes, the hair, the laughter lines, the moustache - that he simply couldn’t paint any of them.
After another few minutes Vince realises he’s staring. He looks hastily down at the ground and mumbles: ‘Howard, I don’t have a job either now. An’ I’m sorry I said what I did, an’ if you want some company on the way home…’
Howard picks up the box. ‘Well, come on if you’re coming.’
Vince takes that as a ‘yes’, and tags along after Howard, walking as fast as he can to keep up with those long Northern legs.
But when they turn the last corner, there’s an angry mob of animal rights protesters outside Howard’s building, waving badger placards and chanting.
Howard retreats hastily into a shop doorway. ‘Bainbridge must have told them where I live.’
‘My place, then,’ Vince says quietly. ‘It’s not far.’