The Stomping Foot of Oaker Ridge


    During a dark and ominous night in November, I reached a small and quaint village, which had been my destination for some time. I have been traveling on horseback and, on particular, this day had struck me as odd. It was still rather early, and before my arrival the previous days have been abound with a creditable amount of sunshine, which greatly help me find my way. However, as I reached the mysterious town of Oaker Ridge, the light had become progressively dimmer, until the entire area was overcome with a unique darkness, one of which I have never seen before.

    It has been a while since I had last communicated with Er'vet, a childhood associate of mine, and who I had looked up to with great admiration.  It was a few days ago that I have received a letter from him, declaring to me the great deal of trouble he was in. It seemed to be written rather hastily, and had no details of the type of chaos that Er'vet had put himself into. However, being the willing soul that I am (and, in addition, having no plans to complete for the week), I had decided to see how I could possibly relieve him from the disaster.

    I dismounted from my horse, and tied him up into one of the local public stables, in fear that the darkness would soon produce a tempest of some sort. Then, I proceeded to walk from the farm to the more industrial part of the village, and explored around to inquire about the location of my acquaintance.

    Mysterious, as I have said before, was this town. Not a soul appeared on the street; perhaps the oncoming weather gave that effect. However, the buildings were of another matter. Shoddy and seemingly desolate, the edifices seem to lack the TLC required to maintain an efficient town. Each one lacked a sign to tell of its services, except for one. This building was, perhaps, the largest on in the town, and on its sign was something of an unrecognizable symbol. Fortunately, through its window, I managed to see evidence of life, and carefully I entered.

    It was a tavern....or it seemed to be. Three tables toward the window were filled some of the most, dare I use the word, ugliest furs I have ever seen. To the left, on the other side of the room away from the window, were a series of doors, three to be precise, each one closed. And in the far corner was situated a bar; behind it, a mangled-looking tiger preoccupied himself by wiping the counter clean with a white cloth. Wearily, I approached the barkeep with a smile, to show my friendly nature.

    " 'i thar, stranja! 'ow cannea help ya dis fine evenin'?" asked the barkeep.

    I tried to suppress my laughter; his accent was perhaps the most funniest thing I every heard, mainly because I never heard anything quite like it. "Yes. I'm looking for the whereabouts of a friend of mine. He's a griffon named Ev'ret. Have anyone of that sort entered this establishment?"

    The barkeep stared at me as if my head had burst right in front of him. "Eeer....ya, I done 'eard of 'im. 'e's upstars, in 'is room." He turned around and mixed a few drinks into a glass, which he then placed in front of me. "While ya wate, stranja, 'ere's a drink fo' ya, on da 'ouse."

    Smiling, I grabbed the drink and gulped it down, feeling refreshed after the long travel. It was quite a drink, very tasty, and I had asked the barkeep for another glass.

    "Serry, bud, but dat's de ony drink ya cannea get 'ere wit out payin' fo' anuter one." he remarked.

    Perhaps it was in good faith, for a few seconds later, the whole room had blurred and spun before my eyes. The gyration of the world had nauseated me, and I can not remember if I had actually vomited there, but I remember that I felt I had to, and then, everything had gone cold and black.



    I had awoken, sore in my stomach, lying back down, facing up toward a large hole in the ceiling of an exceptionally huge building, immobile. Struggling, I realized that I had been held immobile by some rather powerful chains, large and thick, and every time I tried pulling at them, they somehow caused a sharp pain in my arms and legs, mainly in the wrists and ankles. I was in a great panic, totally bewildered at my predicament. I tried a series of breathing exercises, to calm and soothe my rattled nervous, which somewhat worked, then began to scream.

    "Shut up yer mouth!" A loud voice boomed and echoed in the room.

    I was perplexed at the direction of the speaker, so I spoke in a general direction...straight ahead.

    "What is the meaning of this?" I cried.

    The soft padding steps of someone's bare paws came trotting closer to where I lay. Turning my head, I saw two different furs. One was the barkeep, who visage seemed to have darkened; perhaps it was due to the terrible lighting in the room. Another was a raccoon, who dark fur around his eyes presented itself a unique and disturbing evilness, which caused me to shudder to the spine.

    At this present time, I cannot recollect what exactly was said, or what they themselves personally have done to me. But the conversation went similar to what follows.

    "What the hell is this?" I cried again.

    "Donnea act lik' ya dont know...." said one of them, my memory of this, as I said, is quite vague. "...ya been en ca-hoots wit dat Ev'vit persin, causin' al dat troubal 'round her'."

    "What? No! I was only looking for him!"

    "No dout ta cause mor' murdas!" At this point, the tiger, I believe, grabbed me by the collar, and thrust his face into mine. "Ya sik bastas done killed me wife!"

    "Calm down dere," said the other one. "Dat son ov a bich wil get his punismen' soon 'nuff."

    It was at this point, I think, I realized that these furs had no law enforcement capabilities. They were obviously some type of secret vigilante group, whose 'shoot first, and ask questions later' style of judgment were their ideology in solving crimes. However, somehow the community had agreed with their tactics, and had given them access to the village's capital punishment facilities. At this point, I had no idea what it was; I assumed they would inject me with some type of fluid or poison. But I wasn't even close.

    The two characters left the room, to leave me alone. I began to think. Was this a giant error of the townspeople, or did Ev'ret set me up to take the fall? The steady beating of my heart was slow, intense, pounding. I was breathing, but I wasn't at all. I was scared out my mind, yet was calm and collected. The fear of death wasn't present or nonexistent; I was just indifferent toward it.

    There was a stirring, a strange motion in the giant hole above. At first, it seemed as if it was a thousand bugs slowly descending. Being in such a primitive town, I thought such and idea was credible. In fact, my mind began to wander over several different 'ancient' torture devices that they still put into practice. However, the moving object was much bigger than a descending swinging it got closer, my eyes began to focus, the lighting became an heart stopped.

    It was a giant dragon's foot!



    I finally realized why the village would forever be in darkness; a giant dragon loomed over the entire area. But that was the farthest thing from my mind, as my breathing became sharp and erratic, watching a giant scaly foot descend on me!

    Waves of an unthinkable horror overcame very soul. I became totally entranced in the entirety of the appendage. It was large, perhaps ten...twenty...thirty feet in senses were distracted, and my memory is still wavy, so I can't distinctly remember the size. But its vision will remain imprinted in my mind. It was three-toed, plantigrade, I believe, and covered in a dark green tessellation of thick and strong scales, each one visual to me. The toes themselves were pointed with a pearly white claw, and each toe had a faint but noticeable plump wiggleness to it. They came together, proportionally, toward the thickness of the ball of the foot, and the dark green area to the ball's side. I concluded it was a right foot, because the indent of it curved inward on my right side, and the flesh part had a slight indentation, marked by a few 'pushed in' markings. The sole was long, and full; my eyes had to travel downward to the heel, a rounder, moister sphere than the foot's upper ball. The entire green paw quivered with an unique anticipation of a powerful stomp, to which I was an apparent victim.

    The paw came down rather quickly; however, I felt that time passed very slowly as I sat there, with horrified anxiousness. Then it began to press against my body. At first, it felt rather strange, almost as you were being mated by a bigger fur. Almost...pleasurable. But then the pressure began to increase...

    Christ! The pain! It was unbearable! The image of Jesus Christ himself, hanging for hours, in appalling agony, as his own body tearing his flesh down against him, for crimes to which his innocence held against him, was the only thing to which my pain could be compared to. My muzzle pushed inward, so I turned it reflexively to one side. I spread out my legs and feet as far as they could possible go. But even these little 'safety precautions' could not prevent me from my horrific fate.

    Of all the executions that I have witnessed in my travels, I felt that the one where the horses pulled you limb from limb from limb from limb was perhaps the most antagonizing of all. I never could quite remember the 'exact' name of it. But now, under the immense weight and sheer power of the dragon's foot, I realized that this was the worst. Somehow, it was wonderfully pleasure, terribly horrifying, and unbelievably painful at the same time.

    I tried to scream, but one of the scaly toes pressed up against my head, and the smooth ball pressured itself against my lungs. I couldn't breathe, couldn't see. I was helpless; I could feel bones break in my body, God! He crushed me so was unbearable. My senses became completely distorted. The world around began to blur and darken. The toe had bent, and began to squeeze my head inward...I could hear the scraping of the claw against the part of the table above my head. My groin and my tail were flattened by the heel, or some part of the back of the foot. I felt myself weaken, and soon, the pain was starting to go away....into the dark world that began to fade before my eyes.....





    By the time I finally regained a sense of conscienceness, I realized that the foot was no longer on me, but had disappeared. I had felt I was in heaven, but I could still feel a sense of excruciating pain inside every part of my body. I couldn't move, but my eyes could focus again, and, standing in there, in the captured possession of my enemies, was Ev'ret!

    From all the recollections I could ponder up of my former friend, I never could remember one quite as similar to the visage of him at this point. His eyes were wide and big, filled with a complete and utter amazement. His beak, longer and somewhat deformed, no longer that the bight yellow luster to it, but now contained a dark brown hue. His mane feathers were now dull and incomplete; before, his body shone with the beauty of his read and white plumage. He seemed to be of a different character, and his words struck me deep with a mysterious surprise, horror, and confusion at the same time.

    "AHA! Yes, I see! It IS true! Yes, verily, I have witnessed it with my own eyes! Yes! You have been lucky, my former comrade! You, all of you! He has not been an associate of my crimes! No! Nothing! Such a fate should not be placed on him! My actions alone have pertained to the murders! Yes, it is me, only me!! I only have used him to replace me in case of a less than fortunate execution. But now, I have seen that those deaths were worthy enough to render myself the GREATEST EXECUTION IN THE WORLD! Aha! Place me on my death bed, I deserve it!"

    I could only look in shocked admiration to the testimony, until I had passed out again.



    I awoke again, in a series of bandages, lying on a more comfortable bed, looking out of a glass window at my friend, who was now strapped on the table underneath the giant hole in the ceiling. The manner in which he had requested himself in be executed was at first, strange, but now begun to make since. He had some innate physical foot/paw fetish, which until recently he hadn't expressed publicly. He must have somehow found this town, and realized the manner of executions here, and became obsessed with finding a way to be executed in that way. His fetish became strong in him, he wanted to, literally, as I was told, to 'have actual and physical relations to that foot as he died." That would explain why he wanted to be executed without the need of any clothes.

    As the giant foot crushed down on top of his naked body, he let out a chirp and laughter of inexplicable pleasure. More and more pressure pressed against him, but never once did that smile erase itself from his beak. He began to thrust himself up against the foot, until he couldn't anymore, than just screamed in an orgasmic pleasure, which could only send waves of horror into my spine, causing my to shiver on my body. I closed my eyes as the shrieks (perhaps of pain, perhaps of pleasure) heightened and increased, the noise of his body breaking becoming louder, until his body burst and splattered. I saw the blood fest afterward; I saw the foot rise back up into its place, the sole of which drenched in blood and feathers, skin and bones.

    I couldn't bear to have witnessed the actually crushing; I can only figure that my former friend had truly enjoyed his last moments under the dragonís foot. To this day, I could never relocate the village, nor the dragon to which the greatest execution was attributed to. But I could never redeem myself fully, being one of the few in the world to have witnessed, accounted, and held testimony to, the stomping foot of Oaker Ridge.