Serif stood before the glowing white door, struggling to maintain his composure. His first mission to the mortal realm, he could hardly believe it! After two and a half millennia of training, he was headed down to Earth. Most guardian angels didn't have to train quite so long, by the time Serif graduated his class was mostly angels half his age. But the white-furred mouse thought there was no substitute for practice. If anything, he was being cautious.
"Serif, your time has long since come," his exasperated advisor said to him the last time he went to apply for another cycle of training. "You have learned all you can from us. You learned all you could from us four cycles ago, in fact. Go speak to Clarion for your earthly assignment. And for the love of God, Serif, do not come back here unless you are applying for a staff position."
He read the glowing piece of paper in his forepaw for the hundredth time. He was assigned to a notorious den of sin, somewhere called Oblivion. The mortals called it a "dungeon," though it didn't look like any dungeon Serif learned about in his mortal history classes. Nobody was confined there involuntarily, and the mortals didn't incorporate it into their justice system. Instead, they flocked there in droves to experience carnal pleasures in full sight of their fellow furs.
It ought to be a simple matter, Serif thought. Mortals weren't the most reasonable creatures His Eternal Majesty saw fit to create, but surely they would be open to the notion that what they were doing was sinful and wrong. These furs were created in the image of their God, and He did not build their forms for things like that! It was most unseemly, clearly a result of the unholy influences spawned from that horrific other realm. That place of fire and brimstone, spoken of only in whispers in the Heavenly Sanctuary.
Serif shuddered, placing a comforting forepaw on his chastity cage. He was lucky to be protected from such impure desires, as were all other angels in the Heavenly Sanctuary. Theirs was a mission of purity, there was no space for sickening carnality. If Serif had it his way, every mortal on Earth would be locked in chastity as his brethren were.
But Clarion made it very clear that he was not to do anything drastic while on Earth. This was a mission for infiltration and proselytization, nothing more. If he did well in this Oblivion place, Clarion told him, then he could return next time and encourage mortals to follow his lead. In particularly recalcitrant cases, he could even force them into it. That sounded like a delightful idea to him.
Serif folded up his orders and slipped them into his pocket, reaching out and opening the door. He saw a dark and rainy city street, furs hurrying by with umbrellas. None of them could see the divine portal, but once Serif stepped through he would be indistinguishable from the mortals. The door would hide his wings and halo and change his robe into something more suitable.
With a deep breath, he stepped through the door. It closed behind him and vanished. It wouldn't reopen until he completed his mission, or if he put out a distress call. He was determined not to fail, a distress call on his first mission was a death knell to his career prospects. Someday, Serif would be a guardian angel of immeasurable renown, spreading the good word of His Eternal Majesty across the Earth.
But for tonight, he was just a little mouse, getting drenched by a passing car. It threw up a tidal wave from a huge puddle in the road, dousing him from head to toe. Serif sputtered, the sweatshirt and jeans the portal gave him soaked through. By God, the training did not prepare him for the cold down here. It was late fall, and a pervasive chill filled the air. Now that he was soaked to the bone, it only got worse.
"Oh shit, are you alright?" A voice asked behind Serif. The angel mouse whirled around, shivering. A black-furred wolf in a long leather coat stood there, by the door to Serif's mission. The mouse shook his head, trying to ignore the fact that he had just heard a curse word for the first time in his life. Maybe if he could ingratiate himself to this wolf, he would be a doorway to this place. He just had to hope his mortal lingo was up to date.
"I'm p-perfectly alright, good man," Serif said. "Just caught a bit of a wipeout from that autocar."
He gestured backward, toward the car that long since driven out of view. Serif fretted as to whether he had already given himself away, but the wolf just smiled and beckoned him forward with a massive forepaw.
"Well c'mon, before you catch another wipeout," he admonished, opening the door. "You were planning on coming in here, right? I've seen plenty of furs get cold paws and stand outside the door all night."
Serif gratefully accepted the invitation, scampering through the door into a well-appointed foyer. The floor was onyx-black tile, with several red couches and a front desk. A lithe ferret sat behind it, glancing up from her book to give the mouse and the wolf a little wave.
"Welcome back to Oblivion, Mr. Vail," she said cheerfully. "Did your guest need a change of clothes? He looks awfully soaked."
Serif blushed. "Oh, that's perfectly alright, good woman," he said hurriedly. "My current garments will serve me well, no need to trouble yourself."
"Oh, nonsense," Mr. Vail said with a click of his tongue. "You are drenched, you'll freeze half to death like that! Besides, a sweatshirt and jeans is hardly appropriate attire for a place like this. You'll be much happier in something a bit more exciting."
Serif gulped. There were a few problems with this proposal. One, accepting mortal garments was strictly against the rules of engagement on Earthly missions. Two, his blessed robe was one of his precious few shields against the unholy lust and temptations that so plagued mortals. And three, based on his understanding of this place, whatever the wolf and ferret replaced his disguised robe with was sure to invite the lust of onlookers.
Although, refusing was likely to invite suspicion, and Serif couldn't have that. If he stood any chance of succeeding in his mission, he would have to earn the trust of the patrons here at Oblivion. So as much as he wished to do anything else, he forced a smile onto his face and acquiesced.
"That is most generous of you, many thanks, Miss..." Serif said. The ferret giggled.
"Miss? Oh, you're cute," she said. "Just call me Hallie. Save the Misses and Sirs for when you get upstairs. A twinky little mouse like you is gonna need a lot of them, especially if you've got Mr. Vail dressing you up."
The wolf crossed the foyer in five quick strides, beckoning for Serif to follow him. The mouse scampered after him, shooting a troubled glance back to Hallie. What in the name of the Heavenly Sanctuary did she mean by that? Serif could identify five separate items in that statement to be concerned about, but he couldn't spare a thought for any of them. If he could stay attached to this Mr. Vail, perhaps that could earn him the trust of the other mortals.
Serif followed the wolf through a door into a side room, which was absolutely full of impure regalia. The mouse gasped. All sorts of arrangements of leather and latex surrounded him, most of which would cover little and less of his fur. He had never worn this little material in front of another being, by holy decree!
"Quite the collection, right?" Mr. Vail said, shooting the mouse a hungry grin. Serif laughed nervously, eyes darting around for any way out of this. If he put out a distress call now, the cleanup process would take weeks and the paperwork would be tedious beyond belief. But if he didn't, he was going to be trotted out into this so-called dungeon dressed like a mortal harlot!
"I-it is rather impressive," the mouse said, taking a half-step backward. "Though I daresay, this is quite a hullabaloo for a fur you aren't acquainted with."
The wolf chuckled. "That's just the kind of guy I am, mousie," he said. "You wouldn't have come to a place like this if you didn't want to play around with the harder stuff. Now, are you going to be a
good boy
and get out of those wet clothes for me? Or am I going to have to tear them off of you?"
Mr. Vail bared his fangs, and Serif's blood ran cold. Without further ado, he stripped out of his soaked clothes, robbing himself of a layer of sacred protection. He stood before the wolf, shivering a little in the cool air, clad in nothing but his silver chastity cage. A fiery blush lit up his cheeks and his cage jumped in a way it never had before. By God, maybe his teachers were more serious about the robe's protection than he knew.
The wolf eyed his cage with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "Seems like somebody's quite the little exhibitionist," Mr. Vail said. "It would be a shame to hide something like that away, I bet you love to show it off like a
