The Masculine Mutant Man: Splinter

“How’s this?” The imposing rat asked.

“Lovely, perfect, these are all great!” I said enthusiastically, snapping more images on my camera.

“That’s nice to hear, I admit I’m not overly familiar with the best ways to look sexy for your fans.” He explained. 

I chuckled. “A lot of them are going to be your fans after this! And hey, you look fantastic from every angle, don’t worry about it, just do what feels natural. It certainly doesn’t hurt the appeal that you’re staying hard this whole time without even touching yourself!” I added and smirked.

“With such a handsome man watching my every move, how could I not feel aroused?” He asked.

I smiled and took more pictures as the large fellow shifted into another position. For some reason just then I thought back to how we had first met…

***

I wasn’t always a freelance photographer, I used to be a cameraman actually for a local news team. It was almost three years ago. Not too many companies were willing to hire mutants on, but Channel 6 News was open to it, as long as your past job experience warranted the hiring of course. I was out for a story with one of New York’s biggest names in journalism, April O’Neil. She had received an anonymous tip about illegal mutant experimentation in a seemingly abandoned lab just outside the city limits. We should have waited for police to show up, but she assured me we needed exclusive footage from inside before the cops arrived. I was still pretty new to the team so I went along with it, afraid to make waves, despite the concerns I had.

We found a heavy steel door with some sort of computerized lock that April bypassed easily with some bit of tech from her pocket that I had never seen before. 

“Get that camera running, who knows what we’re going to find on the other side. Keep your wits about you Fido!” She said. I swallowed, but my throat was dry.

The door opened into a large room full of expensive, alien-looking laboratory equipment and immense glass cylinders lining the space on either side. The computers were still on, but after a preliminary check it seemed any data they once contained had been wiped. In fact, the place seemed like it hadn’t been touched for at least a few days as a light layer of dust had settled on every surface. No one was home, and I admit I was quite relieved by the fact.

But that wasn’t quite true, there was someone there, several someones as fate would have it. I found a series of switches along one wall near the towering canisters and flipped them on. The huge cylinders glowed eerie light from within, displaying rows of bodies suspended in murky liquid. We gasped in unison.

“A-are they alive?” I wondered, moving closer to the nearest one.

“It looks like it, the power is still on. I think they have breathing apparatuses on their faces, tubes and things, maybe feeding them?” April said.

There were 14 cylinders in all, each with a different mutant held inside. I saw a fox, and a duck mutant and--

“Fido! Come here and help me!” April called suddenly, and I dashed over. She had initiated an automated reawakening sequence on one of the tubes. 

“Shouldn’t we wait for help? A medical team or something?!” I shouted.

With a loud sound of rushing water, the cylinder drained out the sides of its bottom into large grates set into the floor. The glass walls of the container slid up into the ceiling, and a tall, brown-furred mutant slumped out of the canister into our laps. He was soaking wet of course, nude, and though I couldn’t see his face initially due to the mask attached to his face, I could tell by his long tail he was a rat. We worked to unhook his breathing apparatus and pull the connected tube from his throat. He coughed as we did so and struggled to open his eyes.

“Splinter? Are you alright?” April asked.

“You know him?” I said, incredulous.

“Yes, or well…” She grew quiet, studying the rat’s face, gently touching his ear where she found a tattoo that read ‘002’. “I’m not entirely sure.” 

The big fellow coughed again and I struck his back, helping him to clear his airways. 

“W-where am I? Who are you?” He asked, his voice choked with fatigue and uncertainty. 

“In a lab, but you’re safe now.” I told him softly and touched his cheek. He was older I could see, judging by his long white beard and distinguished face. Even under the bizarre circumstances, I felt myself blush at having this handsome naked fellow resting atop my thighs.

“I’ll find something he can wear.” April said as she got up quickly and looked around for a blanket.

“My name is Phil, er, Fido, and that’s April. We’re here to help.” I said, suddenly feeling quite capable. In retrospect, I suspect I really just wanted to put him at ease.

“I am called…” His voice trailed off. “My mind is, cloudy, I can’t seem to remember.” He said.

“It’ll come back to you, I’m sure of it.” I said, and patted his shoulder.

“Thank you Fido.” The rat said and reached up to clasp my hand in his.

Within half an hour, emergency teams were showing up and the rest of the cylinders were being drained. Each of the mutants inside began receiving medical aid and attention. They were dried, given clothes, questioned and offered support. Most were homeless mutants who must have been abducted and brought here for experimentation. Some were runaways, and two were a couple who had gone missing in Central park only days ago. April took brief interviews with all of them while I followed her around with the camera, reporting live from the scene. The purpose of the lab itself was never made clear unfortunately, but it was still quite a story. Ran for a week or so after the fact. I stayed with the old rat while paramedics gave him clothes to wear and made sure he was healthy. It had been hours by then, but he was still alert and cooperative. He spoke English well but with an accent, perhaps Japanese? I guessed he was in his early fifties, but without some sort of identification, there was no way to know much about him for certain. 

We found out that the homeless mutants would be split: some of them going to the hospital overnight, the rest to a shelter that was being prepared for their arrival. It was the middle of the night and I was tired. It had been a long, crazy day of work, my arms and back were sore from lugging the news camera around for the last several hours and I just wanted to collapse into my bed. But instead, I did something else. I found the handsome rat again, who was sitting quietly on the sidewalk, a little ways away from the bustle of emergency crew members. He was speaking with April, but smiled up at me as I strolled over.

“So, uh, how is he?” I asked her.

“Good, strong. He could be the man I know, but, I’m just not sure.”

“Because of his memory? Or lack thereof?”

“Among other things. I wish I could let him stay at my place, but there’s not really room with all of Casey’s junk. And I’ll need to contact the guys about…” She considered her words. “Contact some old friends, but I won’t be able to get away for several more hours at least!”

“Well, I have a spare room at my apartment. He could at least get some rest there.” I said the words before taking even a moment to think them through.

They both looked up at me.

“I just mean, y’know, until he gets his memory back. If you can vouch for him, it’s really no trouble. My last roommate just moved out a couple weeks ago so it’s available.”

“I don’t want to be a burden on anyone.” Said the rat, but I could see in his deep, ruby-colored eyes that he was grateful.

“It’s really fine.” I assured him.

“Fido, that would be amazing, I could come see him, and I’ll pay you whatever his rent would be. I know he won’t cause any trouble.” 

“Sure, um, I guess I’ll call us a cab then. I mean, if you don’t need your cameraman anymore tonight?”

She tilted her head. “Normally I’d keep you around, just in case, but I want you to get this man safely home and find him something to eat too. He likes sushi, there’s a place not far from here that’s open 24 hours. And call him Splinter.”

***

Like I said before, that was nearly three years ago. Splinter and I were roommates for those first few months and he was a wonderful house guest, respectful, clean, and quiet. A few times April stopped by and invited Splinter out to meet with some old friends of theirs, hoping to jog some memories, and I wondered who she had in mind. When I asked him about it later, he sighed and told me, ‘They were nice young men who initially mistook me for their father. Their pain on discovering I am not he, it affected them deeply. I wonder if meeting with them again is wise.’ It was clear to me that there was more to be said on the subject but he seemed unwilling, or more likely unable, and I didn’t push him further. 

April paid his rent as she said she would and then some, saying if he needed anything at all, not to hesitate. However, he very much wanted to pull his own weight and began tutoring neighbors and friends in Japanese language and culture. He was a patient and thorough teacher and in little time he had a small but dedicated clientele who paid enough to cover his monthly expenses. Over time his room became a haven of sorts, decorated sparsely with things from Japantown: a futon on the floor, a simple tea set and books for him to read. While I worked, he usually stayed at home, meditating, reading, practicing martial arts or pruning the bonsai I got for him. When I was home I wanted nothing more than to be by his side, telling him about my day, or listening while he tried to put into words a fragmented memory. By then, sadly, it was becoming clear that he was probably never going to remember everything. He knew about the places he lived in Japan, the culture, coming to New York... And that he was surprisingly proficient in the martial arts, but more personal details about himself and his relationships were vague at the best of times. Still, new aspects of his personality were becoming apparent every day and he was much more comfortable in his new home, with me. 

It was challenging for me being around him so frequently for obvious reasons. We hadn’t done anything physical by that point, well, sometimes I’d fall asleep against his side, my head on his shoulder while we watched an old movie on the couch. But that infrequent touching was nothing like what I really wanted to do with him. I just, was so nervous about potentially ruining our friendship if he didn't feel the same way. He had such a wonderful body, powerful and a little paunchy. His arms, legs, chest and butt muscular and firm. Sometimes he’d come out of the bathroom in only a towel or fundoshi and I’d catch myself drooling. I fantasized about him almost constantly. I wanted to tell him so badly how I felt, but by the time I finally worked up my nerve to do so, he beat me to it. Somehow he sensed what I wanted, no, what I needed, what we both needed. Wordlessly, he pulled me tightly against his body and devoured my mouth in his. We made love all night. We fucked until our muscles ached, so we rested briefly, talked a little, and then fucked some more. It was easily the best sex of my life. But if I’m being completely honest with you, I knew I loved Splinter long before we fooled around together. I think I was in love with him from the moment we met and he literally fell into my lap. For him it took longer. He said it was the patience I showed him, working with him every day to help piece his memories together, and the way he'd catch me stealing glances at him. He said most of all it was my compassion for a stranger over all this time that completely won his heart. I blushed deeply at his compliment. We became boyfriends officially after that for a year and a half and most recently, he asked me to be his husband. He wants us to be married next spring, and I couldn’t be happier. 

I’ll admit, it does feel a little odd taking pictures of him to share with everyone else online, but he is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and he was excited to be part of this passion project of mine. It was his idea to be included as a model, so who am I to stand in opposition? 

I finished up another roll of film and put my camera down.

“All finished, love?” He asked.

“For now at least. I don’t think I can stand another minute of watching you strut that stunning body around in front of me without getting a taste, come ‘ere!” I growled.

Splinter smiled warmly as he strode over to where I knelt on his tatami rug, his hard manhood bobbing with each step. My mouth watered involuntarily.

“Open your mouth.” He said.

My tongue flopped out as he sank himself into my muzzle. I moaned around his girth.

“Good boy.” He said happily.

I fumbled to get my pants undone as his familiar, masculine scent filled my nostrils and his leaking cock reached my throat. His heavy sac bumped against my bearded chin, and as he began to find his rhythm, I had the realization that I must be the luckiest man alive.

-Fido