Anthro Sex Squad Story 2 - Winfred's Story; Chapter 8

Story by killenor on SoFurry

, , , , , , , , ,

#8 of ASS Origins Story 2: Winfred's Story


Anthro Sex Squad Story 2 - Winfred's Story

By Killenor

Arc 1 - Origins

Chapter 8

Fear.

Fear, like he had not known since before he had dispatched his own mentor to gain the position of Grand Royal Interrogator, crept across Hreugh's spine. This man would be the end of him if he could not get away. His power was useless against this warrior, for he was like the manifestation of a god and not some mortal.

"Hold, Hreugh," commanded Wethers, "Stand as a man and for once in your pitiful life face the retribution you are due."

No words of power came to Hreugh's lips, nor would any strategies form in his mind. His only recourse...

Hreugh turned as quick as he could, reasoning that he could make the door before the armored Wethers. From there he could disappear and find yet another new life. His protégé was lost to him now...

...protégé!

"WINFRED!!!" Hreugh yelled mere steps from the door, "Stop..."

His words were cut off then. A numbness spread through his torso as the ground rushed up to meet him. He could no longer feel his legs, but he was still horribly aware as his face smashed into the floor. He could swear that he heard the approaching hoof-steps getting nearer... his executioner's hooves. Desperately he tried to crawl, oblivious to the extent of the damage that had been done.

Winfred had watched impassively as Wethers advanced on Hreugh. Her master's last command had told her to stop, and so she dare not twitch a muscle or look away as Wethers had, almost casually, flung that huge blade of his at the fleeing badger. She did not twitch even an eyelash as the blade buried itself in the small of Hreugh's back and emerged from his stomach, coated in blood.

Wethers approached the stone-still wolverine girl, stepping between the unconscious bodies of the soldiers, and took her chin in his gnarled hand. Hreugh was dealt with for now and there would be no further interference. It was time to release the spell that made a prisoner of Winfred's own mind.

Eyes locked... Wethers focused holy power between them.

The magic prison inside her mind was laid bare to him. A result of torture and powerful will bound up all the anger, willfulness, defiance, and fear that would normally have worked in good measure to produce a healthy mind. But there were flaws, immeasurable and indefinable, that weakened this prison. The intangible threads that connected all these things and more to Winfred's very soul crept between bars of malice and pain. It was formidable, but a true love for freedom could overcome any prison.

"By the light of freedom, the love of Aaluran, and the hope that a better day will dawn," Wethers announced in an intense, reverberating voice, "Winfred I bid thee, break free and be your own woman! Have thine own will! Do as only you decide from henceforth!"

The prison of magic shattered in the wake of Wethers' pronouncement of his faith. Shimmering waves of light flowed forth from his eyes and chest, washing away the tyrannical taints that Hreugh had placed upon Winfred's body and soul. Broken, the magicks of pain and evil evaporated into the nothingness from whence they once came!

Wethers released Winfred's face. She was different now, for the magic that had denied her a womanhood and clothed her in a child's body had vanished. Now, upon the bed sat a mature young woman, with eyes clear and bright, whose mind was just now reasserting itself.

Wethers stepped away, needing to take a moment of communion to steady himself in the wake of his will and faith expressed.

But now, the beast was free.

Winfred's head twitched, a breath brought to her the smell of blood. She knew that scent well, for it was the same scent that the beast had been mulling over since the day she had first struck out at Hreugh from the darkness. Her eyes locked upon the fallen body of the old badger. Though the great falchion through his back had paralyzed him and pinned him to the floor, he was still alive.

Hreugh's breath came in great, ragged gasps as he fought to claw his way to the door. He was hurt, he knew, though he felt no pain. The thumping of his labored heart pulsed inside his ears and he tasted what was doubtless his own blood. All his eyes could focus upon was the door, though even that was becoming hazy.

The beast was upon him.

Winfred, tears of pain and rage streaming from her eyes, grabbed the hilt of the blade that pinned her prey to the ground. A great heave wrenched it from Hreugh's back and sent it clattering into a corner of the room. Another heave flipped Hreugh up to face her. His eyes were wide with terror.

"My name," Winfred growled out between her sobs, "is Winfred, I am your killer, and I will never be yours again."

Hreugh had only time to begin muttering between blood-soaked lips when Winfred lunged. Teeth made for ripping flesh and breaking bone dug into Hreugh's throat and inexorably closed upon it. A jerk from Winfred's powerful neck caused a muffled crack as the badger's head bent at a hideous angle. Bright arterial blood jetted from between the wolverine's teeth as she bit down harder still and pulled. Winfred screams of rage and hatred were muffled by the lump of pulped flesh she held in her jaws.

It was over.

Hreugh's face fell away from Winfred's eyes as the meat of his neck gave way. A momentary drop, lengthened only by the bits of stretchy flesh, ended in a single wet thud, and Hreugh was still. His face, covered in blood, held a look of emptiness. His features were contorted in a final mask of pain, horror, disbelief... and oddly... ecstasy.

This was the sight that greeted the tear-filled eyes of Winfred as the beast retreated; satisfied that it could no longer be hurt anymore. In shock, Winfred's mouth fell open, dropping the pulverized hunk of neck-flesh down onto Hreugh's bloody chest. She stared into those doll-dead eyes that had once been so full of life. Memories and sentiments flooded her, every remembrance of his face leering down at her as he rutted, or tortured, or whatever he decided to do... it carried a curdling sense of pain with it. At this the floodgates broke, Winfred fell aside and wept.