Truesuits: Halloween Costumery (ch. 02)

This erotic story features anthropomorphic (furry) characters/costumes, which are humanoid beings with animal characteristics.

"TrueSuits: Halloween Costumery 2"

SHORT STORY

Author's Note:

sequel to "TrueSuits: Halloween Costumery" (duh!).

Sunlight was the last thing Carter wanted to see. It revealed his unforeseen transgression. Though it glowed with the warmth of a new day it was nothing but cold to him. A chilling feeling emerged from deep within and coursed to every part of him. His heart, and head, were muddled as he tried to make sense of the scene in front of him...

"Mmm-hmmm. Go back to sleep Alan."

Fuuuuck!!!

His mother, Gail, lay opposite him in her bed. Her bare back exposed, the dark complexion of her skin peeking out from between the open folds of the furry TrueSuit. And Carter, his own body still clad in orange-red fur...

Her words fell upon deaf ears. Not wanting to further rouse her, Carter carefully extricated himself from the bedclothes -- letting them slip and slide away as he slowly moved to the edge. His throat was dry. A pounding headache threatened to distract him from his stealthy getaway. The dreadful prospect of being discovered, half-naked and wearing a bizarre costume, hung over him. He felt its presence every agonising second he took to escape.

Then, once he had turned and shifted around -- his pawed feet settling on the bedroom floor, clawed toes flexing with uncanny realism, his body stiff lest his artificial tail sweep across his mother -- he made it!

Yes! Fuck yes!

His cries of victory were kept hidden, echoing only in his mind. He grabbed the headpiece, avoiding loud noises, and stepped from the bed. The smug face of Nick Wilde, the anthropomorphic fox from Zootopia, stared back at him. Dumb. Empty. A lifeless mask. Compared to the pained scowl on Carter's face it looked cheap and tacky. Something was missing, some spark of life.

Yeah, duh, mine...

I don't know how this thing works, but everything felt so...real.

...

I can't...

Sparing his sanity from the awful half-dreamt scenes that polluted his mind, Carter sneaked out of the bedroom. His mom had drifted back to restful sleep. He paused and quickly returned to gently lay the sheets over her, making it look like she'd been the only one there all night. A weak attempt, but maybe it would be enough.

Now that he'd disguised his participation, Carter slowly drew shut the bedroom door. The grey-furred rabbit worn by Gail was now mostly hidden beneath the bedclothes. Her long, bouncy foot-paws poked out from the end of the bed, idly rubbing against each other by some subconscious habit. A small round bump in the sheets marked the location of her tail. And just like Carter -- the vacant animatronic helmet sat on a nearby table, having been removed sometime in the night.

The door closed. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He knew exactly what had happened. What they'd done. The suits...the suits had done something to them. Made them think they weren't...

"Agh!"

Carter's exclamation failed to wake his mother, and the young man chided himself for his carelessness.

After all that work getting out of the room,

he thought,

to ruin it by making a stupid fucking sound!

Knowing his luck wouldn't last, he walked to his own room, and set the Nick Wilde head down on a shelf. Then he shut the door, twirling the latch around on the lock, securing his space.

The TrueSuit hung loose over his shoulders, the back having become undone once he'd removed his headpiece -- whenever that'd been. However, it clung well enough around his waist and legs, and the sensation of being one with the second, furrier skin did not abate even as he started to peel it off. Like little jolts of electricity he flinched as it pulled away. His chest and arms freed, he hurriedly finished disrobing -- his waist, gonads, legs, and feet sensing a minute jolt as he 'disconnected' himself from the suit's latent interface.

Utterly naked, Carter rustled through his wardrobe for something to wear that wasn't a freaky sex costume. Once he had some 'ordinary' clothes on, he could begin to calm down and start collecting his thoughts:

So...dad clearly wanted to bang mom wearing these. Ew!

And now I've gone and taken his place -- fuck fuck fuck! I...I had sex with her...

Mom.

"You need to calm down," he told himself, steadying his breathing. "You did something wrong, but there were extenuating circumstances. It wasn't completely your fault."

Yeah, and who's gonna believe that?

"No-one," he said aloud.

No-one, because no-one has to know it was me.

Mom doesn't. She thought I was dad.

Maybe she won't even remember...maybe she'll think it's a dream.

"She better," he sighed while pacing around the room.

Then again -- was what he did so bad? Part of him liked it. Liked thinking about it even now. And both of them didn't know this could happen. Whatever brainwashing the TrueSuit had done to him it seemed like it stuck around. Massaging his ego. Keeping him from recoiling too much. A lingering...

attraction

sprang to the fore of his thoughts.

Carter's panic replaced itself with a twisted pride.

Yeah, I banged my hot mom!

The guilt gave way to boasting. Perhaps a coping mechanism. Perhaps he really felt that way. Or, just as he'd sensed a second ago, the suit had left some kind of imprint.

Either way, his head was mixed-up. Muddled.

Dressed for outdoor exercise, as if his subconscious was telling him to leave the house, Carter decided to go for a lengthy jog. It would be good to clear his head. Work through all these feelings.

He'd woken up with scattered memories -- what if Gail did?

Another good reason to go outside and lay low!

* * *

Fortunately, Carter was the only one to remember what really happened last night. He'd learn that fact in time, but whilst he exercised with that possibility gnawing at his pained mental state, Gail slumbered peacefully. She'd worn the Judy Hopps suit intact for much longer; no matter when she had removed the headpiece, enough had been done by the mind/machine role-play system to subtly alter the memories of her copulation with her 'husband'. She'd had the most wonderful dream -- Alan had come home early and taken her by surprise, using the very costumes he'd bought especially for such an occasion.

Those dreams and memories, just like the very real feelings she'd experienced unknowingly fucking her son, blended into the background; a fuzzy mess of echoed pleasures. The TrueSuit had left its mark on her as well.

If it had been up to the suits alone, both her and Carter would remain in blissful ignorance of their incestuous night -- but you could never truly account for the human element. A flash of recollection burned through her stupor, and she woke suddenly, catapulting upright.

"Alan?"

She looked to the other side of the bed.

Empty.

She exhaled and smiled as the warmth of the sun drenched her fatigued features. In her tired state, she failed to notice any marks or stains -- any evidence of passionate emissions from last night. No, Gail didn't pick up on any signs, and it seemed Carter's hasty attempt to make his side of the bed had worked.

What a pleasant dream,

she thought. Blurred images of red fur, grunting, thrusting...teasing her about what was to come when Alan got home...

"Mmmm," she groaned, standing up. The TrueSuit flopped forward, the open back giving way to her naked form, tickled by the spotty rays of light and heat. She felt good. Satisfied. Like she hadn't been in a long time. Muscles and joints without stiffness.

Walking towards the mirror, Gail saw reflected back at her a healthy smile. No paleness or bags under the eyes. She didn't spend a lot of time thinking about it, but the TrueSuit's technology must have really helped her get some shut-eye. It still clung to half of her body, and she

still

felt everything it felt like it was her own flesh. Running a hand through the fur on her big bunny thigh, she let the realistic sensations spread. An ache formed on her hip, which corrected itself once she stopped twisting around to feel her furry self up. Especially her ass -- those soft cheeks and that little tail!

"It's a good thing Carter and I went to bed after our trick-or-treating," she said to herself, as if she truly believed her version of events, "or we'd have woken up too late to see this wonderful morning!" She looked over at the windows, and the vista beyond.

Turning around, she spotted a wine stain on the rumpled sheets. "Oh no," Gail cooed as she lifted the bed cover and studied the stain. A giddy notion formed in her mind:

seems Judy got a little tipsy last night.

When next she moved, a sharp pain struck her -- a powerful sensation, her skull pounding.

"Ooh! Judy drank more than I thought!"

This sudden spike of anguish vanished as soon as she'd spoken, leaving a dull throb in its wake, making it hard to concentrate. Gail groaned and massaged her temples. She had a vague memory of going outside then nothing. The suit had take over and guided her through the rest of the evening before settling her in to a good night's sleep.

Must've had a nightcap,

she thought.

Or rather, Judy must've.

She chuckled at the notion, picturing herself as not herself -- in a sort of strange third-person perspective -- sipping from a glass of wine while dressed in the TrueSuit.

Gail left her bedroom and wanderer about the house. Passing the half-open door of Carter's room, she spotted the Nick Wilde costume draped over the headrest of her son's bed. There was no sign of him anywhere in the house so she assumed he had other plans.

She entered her son's bedroom and examined the empty TrueSuit, feeling the softness of its fur and comparing it to hers. Warm thoughts swam in her back of her mind; remnants of the role-play programming, as fuzzy as the synth-flesh she fondled idly.

How courteous of Nick to escort Judy home without taking advantage of the poor bunny in her vulnerable state,

she mused -- momentarily forgetting who played each part. Her words lacked impact -- lacked connection to reality, as if she were remembering a story and admiring the character of the male lead. Then, as if ignoring the incongruity, she remarked to herself:

"I've raised quite the gentleman."

Now thinking she had a handle of the evening's events, and that Nick (a.k.a. Carter) had been a perfect gentleman for Judy, she dressed herself and packed up the TrueSuit. She had enjoyed her time pretending to be the character, but now her motherly instincts kicked in, and she resolved to put away the risqué items and wear something respectable -- lest her son return and witness her shame.

As she folded it, she noticed how clean the fur was -- even after a day of use, including outdoors!

Marvelling over the construction of the exotic costume, she caressed the fine surface. Fur tickled and swaddled her fingers. "Self-cleaning," she remarked, "I wish all my clothes could do that!"

Gail went about her day, none the wiser.

* * *

Carter jogged through the neighbourhood, clearing trying to put as much of what had transpired behind him. Out-of-sight, out-of-mind. That's the trick!

Even if that freaky fursuit made me do it...

His trainers bounced on the side-walk as he picked up the pace.

Made me do it,

he guffawed,

like some crappy horror movie! I wasn't brainwashed by a fucking costume.

...

Was I?

He stopped. Partly to catch his breath, partly to process what he'd just thought.

There has to be some kind of rational explanation.

He looked around. The chilly October weather beat down on his raincoat as his breath turned to steam in front of him. The morning had taken a turn for the arctic, and its dour mood matched Carter's inner turmoil.

Yeah...if it wasn't the suit the explanation is I wanted to bang my mom. And I banged my mom.

His eyes followed the passage of cars on the main road, and the shiver of trees in the breeze. Halloween decorations, now overstaying their welcome after the fateful night had just passed, hung from many of the houses. Many he and Gail had trick-or-treated at the night before.

Let's go with the 'suit made me do it' for now.

He wandered and wondered. Other people have these TrueSuits right? This was made by a company, and shipped by a distributor, and created by a designer, etc...; all parts of a product's lifecycle interacted at some point with the fact these costumes basically had a mind of their own -- they didn't fall out of the fucking sky onto his and his mom's laps...right?

Hell, he could swear he remembered seeing someone else out last night in a similar costume. This can't be

that

niche.

No matter what,

he told himself,

I am not telling her what happened. Just play stupid. Play it cool.

With any luck she won't remember as much as I do...

* * *

It took time for the lingering subconscious awkwardness to dissipate. For both mother and son. Still ignorant of the truth of last night, Gail summoned her son and sat him down for a heart-to-heart conversation...

"Thanks for helping out last night," she said after a long, drawn-out sigh. Her warm expression caught Carter off-guard and put in his head all sorts of worrying thoughts.

"What?" he managed say whilst choking on the word.

Gail simply smiled and gave an honest answer to the best of her recollection: "thanks for bringing me out for Halloween! It's been years since I trick-or-treated with friends."

"Well I'm glad I was like a friend to you."

"Of course silly! Just because we're mother and son doesn't mean we can't be friends right?"

"I guess." Carter remained wary of any sudden flashes of last night's events in his mother's face. Fortunately she seemed to think all that happened was wholesome and above-board fun. That scare he had in her bed this morning when she mumbled his dad's name must've been written off as nothing more than part of a sexy dream.

"I gotta say," she continued, "I was really impressed with the quality of the costume. I hope your father didn't break the bank ordering these. I'll know next time I get our credit card statement!"

"Yeah, hope not," Carter chuckled, "I wouldn't want to hide something like that from you!"

Oblivious to the irony, Gail walked into the kitchen, leading her son by the hand and sitting him down. "Lunch?" she offered.

"Sure."

As she busied herself with foodstuffs, a question arose in her mind. A question that she uttered without a second thought, although she wondered why she did so soon after...

"Do you want to try them on again?"

Carter grew cold. A nervous chill ran through him.

Oh shit -- did she remember!?

"Um, what do you mean by that?"

"We had fun right? And nothing went awry so I thought...look...I know it's weird and the suits themselves are a bit...inappropriate--"

"You can say that again! I don't even wanna think what you and dad were planning--"

"Carter! Mind out of the gutter please. I didn't raise a pervert."

No, just a motherfucker.

"Sorry mom."

"That's better. Now as I was saying: I liked hanging out with you as Judy."

More than hanging out,

he thought; his mind fighting desperately to not verbalise his inner monologue.

"Oh, okay. I guess I liked hanging out with you as Nick, I had a good time," he replied without a lie.

"That's settled then," she beamed, "maybe we could wear them around the house. Just to get used to them..."

Carter raised his hand and cleared his throat. He watched his mother set down her things and focus on him, not their lunch.

"Before we go and do that," he mumbled, unsure of how to proceed, "I...uh...I should probably learn more about how they work. Y'know, so that we get the best use out of them."

"Hmm. You're probably right. I tried to understand what was going on in the suit when I first put it on. And you are better at computers than me."

"This is more than a computer," he chuffed.

"Yeah, but you know what I mean! Kids your age get modern technology. I'm just an old fossil when it comes to that."

"Hey don't put yourself down mom. I'm sure we'll both understand the suits. Eventually."

Gail shrugged, giving him a 'not-so-sure' look as she served him up a sandwich.

* * *

Acting on his suggestion, Carter went and found the TrueSuit boxes and rummaged around for any pamphlets or leaflets or booklets or and other kind of '-lets' to see if he could learn more. Failing that, he thought, he could always consult the Internet.

Yeah right -- and catch a virus from all the seedy places people use to discuss how they fuck while wearing these things. No thanks!

Bland corporate bullshit is what I'd prefer to start with.

Lo and behold, his prayers were answered! Pulling up a layer of padding material in one of the boxes yielded a small, dense booklet with multiple languages printed on it. Carter picked it up and started flicking through it.

It was hard to read the small text, and many sentences were heavy with jargon that he didn't fully understand, but as he flipped through he slowly began to understand. Not fully, and not entirely consciously, but since interfacing with the suit parts of the text started to leap off the page at him. He felt strange. The words didn't make sense, neither did their arrangement (even though he made sure to stick with the English paragraphs, he wasn't dumb enough to read the French instructions and complain). Nothing was clear yet at the same time it seemed like it was. A curious feeling, and one that washed over him as he read.

Pieces, fragments of information settled in his mind and occupied his thoughts. This was the doing of the TrueSuit no doubt. As if it had reached into his mind and translated the spirit of the text rather than the literal words on the page. He 'got it' at some fundamental level, but doubted he could explain it to anyone else -- least of all his mom (and he didn't want to lest she remember what they'd done).

Equipped now with an intuitive but inscrutable understanding, he set the instruction booklet down and reviewed the rest of the packaging. He gleaned little from the marketing blurbs and bullet-lists of features, except for one:

TRUESUIT IMMERSIVE ROLEPLAY SYSTEM

That's the one,

he said to himself,

that's what's fucking with our brains.

"I'm sure there's a way to turn it off."

Looking around and seeing no-one, Carter fetched the Nick Wilde headpiece and slid it on. Interacting with the head on its own felt different. Incomplete. Obviously it didn't take a genius to recognise that you needed to whole suit on to get the full effect of the brainwashing!

But still, Carter had enough wherewithal to navigate the augmented reality displays that opened when he thought hard enough. And soon he was able to explore the suit's features. Probing its operating system's depths for hidden knowledge. Information he desperately wanted to find, to complete the remaining gaps he had about how the suit functioned.

It was tantalising close. However some things were just too out-of-reach.

Cursing his luck, he removed the headpiece and turned to practical matters.

If this thing has a memory...if the characters retain what happened...

He paused, thinking through the likelihood that the role-play system's character could bleed into his mind -- implanting false memories alongside true ones; worse still: false emotions, false wants and needs...