For Anon

Adrian Schermer felt a knot in his stomach as his passenger climbed into the automobile. He’d never been the steward to one of the many Wolves, Walkure, or even Baphomet that were deeply ingrained into the infrastructure of the Empire.

Black, was the first thought to pass his mind as he took in her appearance. She was clothed in a black woolen jacket, a red patch on her left sleeve displaying the sigil of the Wulfkrone family, the snarling caricature capturing his attention briefly. Her ears twitched between the garrison cap adorning her head as she caught the young man’s gaze.

“Drive.” She stated matter-of-factly, her voice like the whisper of wind through a dark forest.

Schermer’s adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, turning back to face forward. His leather gloves made a stretching sound as the fabric gripped the wheel of the car tighter than before. He could feel the blood in his veins running ice cold from the golden eyed gaze of the wolf woman behind him.

The engine hummed to life as he turned the key in the ignition, pressing a foot down onto the pedal and pulling out into the bustling traffic lane. He cast another wayward glance back to the passenger. First Lieutenant Hiltraid van Wolfkrone. That was her name, he recalled. His commander had given him explicit instructions to avoid communication with the woman known as the

“Wulfen und Schwarzweald”, but he couldn’t help himself to open his mouth.

“W-where are we going?” He asked, his voice trembling in a childlike fear. She really was almost out of a fairy tale in the preternatural dread she instilled in him as she regarded him coolly. “Surely you have a destination in mind.”

Her pale, alabaster lips pursed, and then drew back into a mild smile. One of the digits on her right paw stroking a small silver locket she wore around her neck. “Home. You’re taking me home.”

-

Wilhelm van Wolfkrone’s eyes fluttered open, his movement restricted by ropes binding him to a dingy wooden pole. There was a cloth gag in his mouth, and he could hear murmuring voices in a room that was adjacent to his. Struggling against the bindings, a paint can fell to the floor and rolled loudly. The voices stopped, and within a few moments a trio of raccoon women opened the door and walked into the room.

“I see you’re awake, swine.” One of the women said. She was no older than his own thirteen summers, her youthful body belaying a great cunning. Her golden eyes regarded him with intense anger and an irreplaceable sense of hatred. “It wasn’t easy to get you here, you know. Someone like yourself is actually rather valuable to your… friends.”

The two others flanked him, tightening his bindings again. He felt firm hands untying the gag from his mouth, both of them backing away when he began to cough, his lungs filled with the dust of the room.

“Where am I?” He asked. Wilhelm could see them more clearly now, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Tanukis. His mind beginning to race, conjuring up images of the terrible acts they were going to commit on him in revenge for the way their kind were treated by the Empire. “What have you done with my father?”

A round of dry laughter.

“Your father is quite alright, little pig. But you? You’re going to be going to market.” The leader of the trio said. In contrast to her companions, her eyes were a verdant green instead of dusky brown, giving them a strange glint in the diminished light.

“After all, being as your precious leader has made sure to prevent the rest of us from making use of your… ilk’s blood, it’s only right to distribute the wealth. Or control it.”

Bright-Eyes smirked again, mouthing the word ‘herrenvolk’. The Master Race, neither human nor fully Incubus. A sort of compromise from the powers that be, as it were. Gifted with fair hair and blue eyes that shimmered like sapphires. The Empress had made it a point that only selected few races bred with them to keep the bloodlines pure.

A cruel smile passed Bright-Eye’s lips.

“Or perhaps, we could just sell you to the foxes beyond the curtain. Your family in particular has quite the bad blood with them, don’t you? Always suckling at the teats of the Empress’ lapdogs, a shadow of their former wolfen ancestry.” She hissed, her accomplices chortling in laughter. The largest of the tree, Fat-Round grinned, whispering into Bright-Eyes’ ear, her grin widening. “Ah…. Yes. Marvelous idea!”

The trio formed a circle, murmuring again to themselves, casting glances at the frightened youth. Bright-Eyes motioned with her hands, and the third disappeared into the other room, her larger tail swishing excitedly. Bush-Tail returned momentarily, a glass vial in tow.

“Open wide, little pig. Or we’ll make you squeal harder than you’ve ever squealed before.” She crooned, holding the uncorked bottle in front of her. The dark had a strangely aromatic smell to it, and tasted bittersweet as Bright-Eyes forced it to his mouth, pinching his nose shut and using her other hand to massage his throat. She gave a satisfactory giggle when the bottle became empty.

“W-what was that!?” Wilhelm choked out, coughing some of the thick syrup out of his mouth. A pleasant warmth had settled into his stomach, spreading down to his loins. He could feel his member beginning to harden as blood surged down. “Why would you do thi-!?”

“Shut up. Little pig. This is your punishment. The Alraune nectar I just had you drink is only temporary, but we can’t have you vomiting it all back up now can we?” Bright-Eyes asked, tightening the gag around Wilhelm’s mouth again. “Besides, it’s much more fun this way. First it will feel pleasant, then you’ll begin to experience the bends until you’re finally begging us to relieve your pain, and relieve it we shall, until you've had just a taste of our flesh. You won't have but a taste, but want more you shall.”

The laughter of the three tanukis echoed in Wilhelm’s mind as they exited the room one by one, giving him a licentious wink each time. Then the shakes began, tears welling up in his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, never like this.

-

Scherfer cringed as the loud smack resonated through the foyer of the estate. The Kikimora maid recoiled from the strike, quaking in fear in front of the enraged Wolf. The young master had gone missing in the night, they said. Spirited away by “forest sprites”. He knew they were full of it.

Of all the various monsters beneath the iron heel of the Empire, the Kikimora were at best tolerated due to their inherently subservient nature. Rather than being shipped off to the “re-education” camps that were used to facilitate their new lives,

Schermer found them often times in the employ of the nobility, acting as nurse nannies and maids. He shuddered at the thought of the last camp he’d seen, the skeletal monsters, the cruel lashes of the Dark Elves. He didn’t like to think about it.

“You there, Driver.” The wolf-woman intoned darkly. He could see the fury and rage behind her eyes, dancing like flames. “Phone in a line to Commander Razgriz. Tell her ‘The Wolf is seeking Red Hood’.”

Wolves howled in the distance, the night seeming to engulf the dark trees around the mansion. Lights shut off in the small burg of Dunkelheim, tiny flames becoming engulfed in the night. The howling drew closer, and Schermer could feel his throat drying as he beheld them.

Immaterial shapes lingered in the trees, blue wisps of light trailing and swirling around each other. The phantoms drew closer, with slavering jaws and full tails. They were wolves, all of them, witch-fire dancing in their eyes as they surrounded the estate. Hiltraid laughed softly, stepping past him and into the darkness.

He could vaguely see her disrobing, tossing her jacket and cap to the side. The boots and leggings soon followed, the Kikimora dashing out to gather them from the lawn. All he could see was a caricature of a woman against the backdrop of an otherworldly pack of creatures from beyond.

Mein Gott, he thought.

Bones twisted and turned, muscles expanded. The werewolf doubled over in pain as her body changed, suiting itself to her needs. The once voluminous tail withered and shrunk, drawing itself back into its owner. Her face elongated, fangs that were once near-human becoming like daggers. Voluminous fur sprang up like a thick carpet, shedding the human skin the creature once wore.

It took all of Adrian Schermer’s willpower to prevent the bile from choking his throat as the sickeningly wet noises continued for another minute, the beast not yet finished expanding in size. Then it stood, well over two meters tall. With a barrel chest and powerfully built arms and legs, the creature no longer resembled anything that could once be taken for a woman.

Instead, the snarling visage of the Wolfkrone’s emblem gazed back at him with eyes that were as red as the Eastern sun, dagger like teeth bared in its muzzle. Terrible realization clicked within his mind, trying to grasp at what the Lieutenant had become.

Wolf-woman? No.

This was something more primal and terrible.

It was the nightmares of the olden human tribes that once pocketed the land. In the time of Roma. The Wolf of the Black Forest. The Schwarzwulfen. Adrian suddenly felt six years old again, clinging to his mother’s apron as his father told tale of the old stories of Riding Hood and her lupine adversary. Yet here she was, standing before him, made flesh.

There was an unsettling facsimile of a smile that crossed its lips, a deep throaty laughter that was echoed by the spectral beasts that formed the nightmare entourage. Once, twice, the werewolf inhaled through powerful nostrils.

“I have their scent.” It said, turning away and beginning in a loping walk, dropping to all fours and becoming one with the inky darkness. Schermer was quaking as the sounds faded into the night, his bladder nearly ready to burst.

No prayers would save the souls of those who had invoked the wrath of the Wolf.

-

Faint moaning could be heard in the adjacent room of the run down barn they had chosen as their safe house, a decision Bright-Eyes had regretted from the start. It was a horribly cliché choice, but given the watchful eyes of the Empress and her lapdogs, it was the only option. She and her sisters had paid a few local villagers handsomely, and they were all too eager to please their employers.

Men and youths, none of which were of the ‘Herrenvolk’ bloodlines, forced to live dull monotonous lives governed by the state as breeders or husbands for the lower-class of monsters. Some of them were quite complacent, she found, others were furious.
She grinned.

What better way to start a fire than to provoke the commonwealth. For as much as she detested dealing with the Westerners, the Kitsune to the East had a rather crude but effective ideology. The wealth was to be evenly distributed among the people, no quarter spared for the downtrodden individuals. Men were entitled to whatever wives they wanted, rather than the state dictating their worth.

A sentiment that was easy to exploit when the choice crops for the farmers near Dunkelheim were either the lowing, almost idiotic Holstaurus that dotted the fields or the Trolls that provided much needed agriculture to the city centers of the Empire’s center.

“No better way to bring a giant to its knees than to slice its ankles.” She mused, inhaling tobacco smoke from her pipe, watching the fire dance on the candle wick. The moans reached a crescendo and came out with increasing rapidity before dying down into a
small mewling.

There was a brief moment’s pause, then another.

Creaking, the door opened as Fat-Round came into view, her knees wobbling like a newborn calf. Her face was flushed, and a veneer of sweat covered much of her torso. A muddy white fluid leaked out of her pink slit, moving to retrieve her clothes.

“Enjoy yourself?” Bright-Eyes asked, forming her mouth into an “o” as she blew out a ring of smoke that rose into the air and diffused. It’d be best to not let the merchandise get too damaged before they took him back across the curtain. After all, what good would the little stallion be if she and her sisters happened to break the stallion before he was brought to show?

Poor salesmanship is what it was.

“Eheh… his spirit is delicious, sis. You should have some before the nectar wears off. It’s adorable how he clings to your breasts and moans the name ‘Hiltraid’ like a little baby.” Fat-Round giggled. She was never the cleverest of the trio, preferring the pleasures of the flesh to the spirit of the mercantile.

She smiled again, pressing her pipe to the corner of her lips.

“I’ll pass. Try not to go too rough on him. Where’s Haru?” She asked. Short-Round gave her a glazed eyed look. Damnit, not again. Haru was probably off seducing one of the men she’d hired with her tail again, inviting the men to use it as a pillow while they fucked her.

“Well… she did have her sights on that one boy. You know how she is, Ame.” The other Tanuki said, clothing herself, grunting with exertion as she bound her breasts back up with the wrapping. “Besides, you should take it easy. We’re basically free from those horrible camps, and as soon as we get the money for our little prize in there, we’ll be home free!”

“Home free doesn’t mean for you to spend your cut of the money on the male prostitutes of the Kitsune’s capital city, Yuki.” Ame replied back. There was an eerie silence outside, the wind blowing softly through the trees. “Besides, we have to be on alert because that little blonde in there is from the Wolfkrone family. You do know what means right?”

Another dumb look from Yuki, as if she were processing the information. Then her head shook.

“It means that he’s bound to have already been marked by one of the wolves. Which means that we’re going to need to be extra cautious. You do know what happens to man or mamano that breaks the unspoken rules, right?” She asked, rising from her seat, gently placing her pipe down onto the table.

“It means no camps, no trials in the courts. We’re as good as dead, and you’re in there fucking the merchandise for the third time before we’ve even left this sorry little hovel and gotten ourselves guaranteed security!” Ame roared. “Now find Haru and tell her to stop indulging herself! We need to get moving, soon!”

Yuki pouted in defeat, moving towards the barn door.

“I’m sorry, sis. I love you.”

Ame sighed, the hairs on her tail smoothing out from their bristled state.

“Yeah, I love you too. Just try to keep yourself under control. Okay? We don’t need the deal to go sou-" Her words cut off by an object that slammed wetly onto the door frame, startling Yuki. A strong metallic smell hit their nostrils as they looked down and shrieked.

It was a hand without the rest of the owner attached to it, a bloody stump just below the wrist with mangled flesh still warm and wet from its severance. They could hear the howls now, and men shouting, their gunshots echoing in the fields and forests surrounding them. There were screams of agony and death, men crying for their wives and mothers.

Blue flames seemed to dance in the distance of the fields, darting in and out from the forests. They had the shape of wolves, but passed through the menfolk like ghosts. They fell to their knees, and the pack devoured them, the gnashing and the tearing noises intensifying.