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DON'T LEAVE ME NOW

You ascend the stairs to Lotte's hideout in the old traffic control tower with the trepidation of a prisoner marching to their execution.

Lotte needs you, and you need her. The pain in your chest and the desire to touch her body is driving you mad, but that old fear of CPT Obmeyer, jackboot of the State, remains.

'She doesn't want you here, Pavel.' Whispers the voice of reason. 'Lotte is going to hurt when she sees you. Turn around and go. There's still time.'

You stop to catch your breath on the landing at the top of the stairs, and mentally kick yourself for thinking that way.

'All this started when I sold my soul for the family,' you think fearlessly against reason.

You were a Koslov then, and haven't regretted your decision since, even when things were at their worst.

You've been touched, stalked, choked, leashed, and kissed a stranger for them.

Pavel Obmeyer is your name now. Lotte deserves the same sacrifices you offered them, if not more.

So what if she doesn't want to see you?

If you've learned anything from your sister Cathy's angry tantrums, it's that sometimes loving someone means acting even when they don't want you to.

You find the door handle unlocked.

Ears against the wall, you only here a soft, muffled murmur on the other side.

If Lotte is sleeping then she definitely needs you.

Mentally preparing yourself, you quietly creep inside.

On the other side you find a room dominated by a single, unbroken window wrapped around the hexagonal traffic control room.

The heat is unbearable, in contrast to the frigid stairway, almost stiflingly so.

The stench of musk, fur, and sweat hits you even harder, and you briefly consider returning with a face mask and gloves.

Some hidden scent you can't quite place though ignites a familiar sensation inside.

You can taste it in the air… She shoved your mouth in it once before, and it's arousing. Very arousing.

A large space heater sits on a console against the window, faintly glowing orange from constant use.

It's the only source of light left. The CO has called lights out for the evening, and the whole camp has gone dark.

"I can't…" someone whispers. “I can't…I can't…"

She spits. “I can't do this…!"

Slipping your shoes off, you creep quietly around the room.

"I need him…"

Your heart skips a beat.

"I can't… I can't…"

Lotte sobs.

"I can't finish. I need him. I can't finish…" She murmurs repeatedly like a mantra. “I want my dearest…"

You find Lotte crouched on the other side of an overturned desk from Before.

She's rocking back and forth, her legs folded under her and her hands between her thighs.

The scent of girl is pungent. She's been masturbating for hours.

"I can't…" she croaks, hunched over and failing to contain her tears. “ I need him! I'm sorry, I'm sorry…!"

A piece of metal clinks under foot.

You've stepped on Lotte's discarded belt.

Her head shoots up, ears raised stiffly, and she turns in a flash to look at you.

"Pavel…?" She gasps quietly.

"Hey…" you whisper back.

She swallows.

"Are you real?"

You nod. “Real as they come."

A massive, terrifying smile cracks across Lotte's face.

"D???????e????????a?????????R???????????e????????s?????T??????.????????????.????????.???????!??????????" She calls manically. "I?t?'?s? ?t?i?m?e? to become ONE?d?e?a?r?e?s?t?!?!!"

Lotte is covered head to toe in blood, but especially around her mouth. Random, self-inflicted cuts are scattered all across her body, while a steady stream of fluid smears the blood between her legs.

You take off running.

Fuck this shit, you're in love not crazy!

Lotte is on you just as quickly, spurred by madness and want and fuming with rage.

"I DIDN'T GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO LEAVE, BOY!"

OhfuckohfuckohfuckOHFUCKRUN!

You reach for the door handle, but stumble on Lotte's discarded clothes and are tackled from behind.

"Why are you running, Pavel?!" She shouts, blood dripping down her forehead and onto your aching back. “DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU?!"

Your wife, or what she's become, forces you on your back, and runs her tongue across your cheek while effortlessly restraining your arms.

"I'm so tired of my own blood, dearest…" She laughs unnervingly, and grinds her sopping wet pussy manically across your groin and stomach.“J-just a bite dearest! I need to know what you taste like!"

A large combat knife appears from out of view, already stained red and trembling in her overwhelmed hands. "?N?-?n?o?w?.?.?.?!?"? She pants heavily, and swallows a mouthful of spit. “Strip."

"Lotte, please, stop this!" You beg, and strain vainly against her grip. “I want you too, but not like this. You're scaring me!"

"Good." She utters in an unsettlingly sober manner. “My Pavel is obedient because he fears me."

"Don't speak for me Lotte!" You protest angrily. “I listen because I love you!"

"Then why are you resisting?" She asks, genuine hurt dripping from her voice. Her ears have begun to wilt, and there's pain in her clouded, unfocused eyes. “I need you. I…I thought I could live without you, but I can't. Every part of me is hurting!"

"I'm resisting because you're scaring me, Lotte." You answer, doing your best to reason with her. “You're not okay and I'm worried sick."

Lotte puts a hand on her head, and laughs in an unsettling combination of exhaustion and mania.

Something soft and metal wraps around your wrist, and you look back to see your wife has cuffed you to a pipe hanging from the wall.

"Y-you…" She gasps, and chokes on an excess wad of saliva.

"Y-you, you strut around base like you own the place, seducing everyone with your human pheromones while pretending you don't enjoy the attention! _How am I supposed to not be upset, Pavel?" _

Your old black corded leash appears from inside Lotte's discarded coat, which she clicks to your collar with practiced ease. Her knife slips under your belt, and she cuts through it just as easily.

You try to protest, but by this point Lotte is completely gone.

"A-acting like a hur ," she stammers, “walking around our home with your shirt off after you shower, letting older women feel you up in public and–!"

_ _"C-can we–?" You stammer, embarrassed. “Can we talk about that incident when we're in our right minds? I was in high school!"

You could die of embarrassment right now. Gospodi pomiluj, she's read your Safety Office record.

"Well why her and not me, Pavel?" Lotte pleads anxiously. “I'm not afraid of things like that. Did you never wonder if I could be adventurous too? I love you dearest, more than she ever could!"

Your penis is freed from your shorts and stands at attention, leaking precum and begging for the damp space between your wife's legs.

"I–" you stammer, “we don't talk about these things, love. Every time I've tried to ask what you want, what you like, you've shut me down. I'm trying, Lotte, I really am!"

Lotte brings her face against the base of your shaft and inhales. A bit of fluid actually squirts out of her.

"I need it…" She murmurs. “I can't…I can't finish on my own anymore. I can't stop thinking about you, and I'm so scared someone might try to take you first. I can't live without you anymore, Pavel. I..." she swallows. "I'd die if you left me."

Lotte kisses you again and explores every part of you with her tongue. “I don't want to hurt you, dearest. Please, please just stop struggling and do your duty!"

Your wife tries to force your shirt over your head, but it snags on the handcuffs and she settles for ripping it off with her bare hands.

"It's time, dearest," she whispers, and slides down your body to prepare for the inevitable.

Steeling herself, Lotte takes your penis in hand and grinds it against her inflamed clitoris. After a moment's hesitation she leans back, aligns your bodies, takes a deep breath, and…

Nothing.

Lotte sits immobile atop you, her moist entrance just out of reach.

"I-it's nothing…" she murmurs. “You need it. It's dearest. He would never hurt you..."

This goes on for several minutes. Eventually Lotte hangs her head in defeat, slips down to rest on your stomach, and wraps her arms around you.

"I can't do it."

You hug her back with your free hand, and whisper comforting words to her.

The handcuffs come off, Lotte climbs off of you, and she sits down silently by your side.

Her knees are pulled against her chest and she hides her face from you.

Your hand touches hers comfortingly. "It's okay, zaichenya."

Lotte doesn't respond.

You sit in silence together for a while before she reaches into her discarded coat and produces an unopened pack of cigarettes.

She slaps the box twice against her hand, takes one, and lights it by sticking the tip against her overworked space heater.

"I've stormed machine gun nests and trenches by myself," she says, staring out the window, “and I've wrestled women twice my size. I've killed since I was 13, and I haven't known fear since I was 9. You are no more a threat to me than a termite."

She wipes another tear from her face and sits back down next to you. “I want this so much it hurts. I want a child, your child Pavel. I've shed tears at the thought. Before we met, I would sniff the paper from your file and imagine you smelled like a library. Why can't I do this one thing…?"

You don't know how to answer that. Wherever this fear comes from, it's rooted deep inside of her.

Beckett's granola and canteen are retrieved from the floor, and you offer them to your wife. "Eat, Lotte."

Your wife closes her eyes and groans. "I'm not hungry Pavel…" she lies unconvincingly.

"Lotte, you haven't been eating properly, and you're dehydrated besides. I don't have much authority as your husband, but I do choose when you get to eat. Please, just one bite. Do it for me."

Lotte laughs quietly. “Only because you're the cook, Pavel. I don't take orders from–"

You interrupt her with a mouthful of granola.

This girl's gonna give you a heart attack from worry someday.

The obstinate bunny pushes you off, but takes another bite of granola nonetheless. Soon the bar has vanished, and she chases it with a long drink of water.

“I ate like a pig yesterday…" Lotte grumbles. “Everything has gone wrong with me. You were right, Pavel. I never should have taken that medicine."

Mood swings, aching pains, overeating and 'estrous like symptoms?' yeah, that tracks.

'Hate to say I told you so love, but I really did' you think.

You raise a hand and touch Lotte's forehead. “Put it out of your mind, zaichenya. We'll figure that one out together. Until then, I think you've got a bacterial infection. How long have you been cutting yourself?"

There's an especially egregious slash across her forearm. Some of these cuts look like repeat offenders.

"A long time, dearest. A very long time. Something terrible happened when I was little, and a wire was crossed in my mind. Now I'm obsessed with the sight and taste of blood."

God damnit, Lotte…

You snatch the cigarette from her hand and take a pull. “I wish I knew how to quit you."

White starlight shines in your wife's red eyes. What angel did you please to ever deserve her?

"Dearest, you don't smoke."

"I do tonight," you say.

Lotte rolls her eyes, but leans against your side affectionately to wrap an arm around your shoulder.

"I used to smoke sometimes with Papa…" you recall wistfully, and lean into Lotte as you gaze at the stars together.

“One cigarette every Sunday. They were cheaper wherever he came from, but we could only afford one a week. He and I shared his last together the day he died."

Lotte hums a comforting tune to herself, and points at the night sky. “Polaris. We followed it the night I left Pennsilfaani."

'With whom…?' You wonder.

She takes the cigarette from your hand, and kisses your head through a puff of smoke. “Can I ask you something, Dearest?"

"Go ahead."

“Would he have liked me? He must've been magnificent to have raised someone like you."

You wrap your arm around Lotte's back and nuzzle her affectionately. Papa always hated it when you “acted the cat", but that's just what happens when you're raised by tigers.

"I think he would've, yeah. Never much cared for cops and jackboots, but he always hoped a nice girl would come by and civilize me. I was a troublemaker growing up."

Lotte's perpetual frown livens up from your words, just a little bit. “What about the others?"

That question's more difficult.

"Mama would be jealous, I think…sometimes it seems like she's using me as a replacement for Papa. No one's been the same since he died, but her especially."

Lotte's cigarette passes back to you, and you take a deep breath. You forgot how nice the flavour could be on a Sunday evening after a long, long week.

"Cathy would want to shoot you dead." You admit, though it hurts to say. “It was her idea to lie about my age. No one in our family has ever really cared for The State, but she's the worst. Sometimes she gets downright paranoid, thinks the grays are after her."

"Grays, dearest…?"

"Inspectors."

"Ah."

"Sofi…she's a different story. Kind of the opposite, would be really afraid of you. Something happened after she got arrested in high school, and she had some kind of breakdown. As for Millie…I dunno. She's still a child."

"Do I get to ask you a question now, Lotte?"

She finally smiles again. “Go ahead."

"What's BB's name?"

Lotte chuckles. “You already know it, dearest."

You push your wife away playfully. “She said the exact same thing to me once. That's no help at all."

Lotte takes a drag of your shared cigarette, breathing smoke like a dragon from her nose. “A joke we share sometimes. We've told it before."

Your wife's eyes have turned down sadly, and her ears hang low in front of her like the last, sad bloom of wild flowers before winter.

"Beckett, Pavel. Her name is Beckett Beckett. She doesn't have a real first name, because her parents never named her."

Your mouth quietly opens.

Lotte wipes a tear from her eye, and leans over to hold you against her again.

"Beckett was an accident, and her family is poor. No anthro's naturally that small, Pavel."

What...?

Lotte's face turns towards the window, and she stares pensively at the stars.

"On her first day of school BB thought her name was "Stupid," because it was the only thing her mother ever called her. The teachers called her "the new Beckett", and it stuck."

Lotte sniffles, and wipes her nose with her arm.

You squeeze her instinctively, trying to take away what you can of your wife's pain, but inside you feel just as bad. Your stomach churns sickeningly, and the wound left by your missing family is beginning to ache again.

"Beckett almost died of hunger when she was 11, and became a ward of the State. Her parents never tried to get her back, so she was groomed for service in the army... We've always been a dumping ground for hungry daughters and undesirables."

You can't even wrap your head around the idea.

Her mom and dad, her whole family, just wrote her off as a waste of food?

"That...not right, Lotte." You protest weakly. "She's told me stories about them. I've seen photos of her family."

"And Beckett's not in any of them..." Lotte whispers. "Hannah, the one who taught her to hustle, is the only sister who writes. She's lying, Pavel."

You clench a fist angrily across your wife's back. "And how could they do that to her?" You ask, voice quavering.

Lotte pulls out of your arms to kiss your forehead. "My dear, sweet pet... Desperate farmers will eat their last seed and slaughter the only breeding sow in a famine. You know this."

"It's still not okay!" You protest bitterly. "They should have..."

Lotte's hand gently strokes your hair, and she sniffles again.

"We all do things to cope with this life. No one joins the army for the pay, or the respect. Anatolia tells jokes and weeps behind closed doors. Brienne and I smoke tobacco we can't afford..."

Your wife trails off, and stares at the cigarette in her hand. "Do you remember AS3 Bernardi? Doreen controls her with drink."

You pick up Lotte's open pack of smokes and examine the label. The mascot is an Australian Shepherd holding a lazily burning cigarette in her hand, stretched out and relaxed on a green field with a precocious looking human child in her lap.

'Fortunate Son Premium Quality Cigarettes'

The back of the box briefly extolls the values of friendship and family, and how the flavorful taste of authentic, uncut greenhouse tobacco brings them to everyone.

You get a good look at the pricetag, and immediately hurl the box away.

Lotte takes another melancholy puff. "Beckett lives in her own little world where her parents are the ones sending letters, and she's in every photo she gets from her sister. It's how she can still smile, dearest... BB isn't even here."

Soft fingers brush your hair comfortingly. "Please, Starlight, don't tell Beckett I told you these things. I read her file without permission."

"I promise."

Lotte kisses you and looks at you adoringly through hazy eyes, as if you were a living dream. "Good boy."

She offers you the cigarette and you breathe deep.

"I love you, Pavel Yekaterinavitch."

---

You and Lotte burn through half a pack of cigarettes together that night, wrapped together in a blanket and taking turns asking each other questions.

You tell Lotte about your first kiss.

She tells you about meeting Beckett at FMI. Lotte was there as a cadet, while Beckett was in an NCO program.

You tell Lotte about Janice Joplin and your fixation with piercings.

She tells you about carrying Major Charles through Ballistic Calculus when the latter was an underclassman.

"Really, CPT Obmeyer? Slipping her the answers? I'm disappointed in you. Think I need to alert the ethics board."

"Try it and I'll spank you." She promises with a smirk.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, wife."

You tell Lotte about the mice in your home, and how you'd make up stories about them being alchemists and sorceresses.

She tells you about a bunny she kept as a pet when she was little.

"Her name was Daisy," Lotte says wistfully, “and she always knew when I was sad. She'd lick my nose to make me happy, and only pooped in my bed once."

You snicker, and Lotte looks away to hide her little smile. “I loved that little animal. I would like to have another someday."

Arms wrap around Lotte from behind, and you rest your head on her shoulder. “We'll have bunnies of our own someday. It's just a matter of time, I think. And when we do…"

You kiss Lotte's cheek.

"We'll get them a cat."

_ _ Lotte giggles. Not a sound you ever expected from her.

"You're ridiculous."

"Someone has to be," you say. “I'm pulling double duty in this family. Affection and openness are healthy for child development, y'know.~"

Lotte puts a finger on her chin thoughtfully. “A reasonable point, husband. You are to be 15% more emotionally available when die yunge are born."

You can't believe your ears. Lotte Obmeyer just told a joke.

A yawn escapes your mouth before you can come up with something witty to say, and Lotte leans back to kiss your cheek.

"It's well past midnight, dearest. I need to sleep…" She runs a hand through her hair and you finally notice the heavy bags under her eyes.

The conversation moves to Lotte's makeshift bedroll, but she hesitates when you start pulling the covers up.

Her head reaches down to touch your penis. "I'm going to try one more time, Pavel."

Blood begins rushing to your cock, and she prevents you from pulling back by the leash attached to your collar.

Lotte's expression has changed again, into something you don't quite recognize. “I wasn't asking your permission, husband."

Something…coquettish and dominant.

Your cock twitches involuntarily, and your face flushes a deep shade of pink.

"L-lotte, I–"

"Have made a mess of my body," your wife interrupts, and spreads her lips to show you the stream of fluid running down her thighs to the floor, “and need correction."

Lotte wraps the end of your leash around her wrist, she grips the cord tightly, and yanks you forward hard as you crawl on hands and knees like the humiliated beast you are.

“Beg me for it." She orders.

"P-please mommy, let me clean the mess with my mouth."

Lotte grins wickedly.

"Good boy."

Your wife stands to her full height, towering over you powerfully.

"Sit." She commands.

You fall on your ass like a mutt.

From this angle, looking up across your wife's heavily toned ab muscles and firm pectorals, she looks every bit the chiseled goddess that she is.

"Permission granted." Lotte declares, and buries your face in her cunt.

The taste is indescribable, far moreso now that the room has been drenched in the scent of her arousal.

Lotte pumps her hips back and forth as your tongue explodes the breadth of her vagina, while a hand comes to grip the hair on the back of your head and force your face ever deeper between her legs.

The leash in her other hand yanks you ever onward, providing a constant reminder of your place beneath her.

There's little space to breathe this deep into mommy's cunt, and you start to feel light headed. Her moans increase in intensity and volume, especially once your mouth moves from licking her lips to suckling her clit.

"More!" She commands huskily, and a second hand grabs the back of your head.

You feel as though you're about to pass out when Lotte's vagina is suddenly pulled away from your face. She sneers down at you angrily.

"You insubordinate little shit." She scolds with a dominant yank of the leash. “I did not give you permission to touch yourself, boy."

Your hands jolt away from your penis in a flash, but Lotte isn't fooled in the least.

"P-please, I'm sorry mommy, I–!"

"SHUT UP." Lotte commands. “I'm in no mood for excuses…" she says, and begins circling you like a hungry shark.

Her foot touches your back. “All fours." She orders.

You comply immediately like the mutt you are.

Lotte's hand reaches between your legs from behind to grab your shaft sternly. “Dripping already, dearest? It's a crime to waste State resources," she taunts, giving you a few strokes, “and this is the most precious of all."

"Yes mommy, I'm sorry mommy."

"Sorry isn't good enough this time."

Lotte lets go of you, and you worry for a moment she's going to leave you pent up without release.

That fear is dispelled when her hand comes down hard on your ass cheek, sending reverberations throughout the lower half of your body.

"Unruly children and rebellious husbands get spanked." Lotte announces, and brings her palm down on you again.

And again.

And again.

Each time skin meets skin the dribble of pre-cum escaping your rebellious human cock increases, as does the waste of mommy's precious property.

"I'd call this display impressive if I didn't suspect you of doing it on purpose." Lotte muses, and touches the puddle of pre under your cock. She plays with it between her fingers for a moment before licking it off.

"Sit, Pavel. Legs crossed."

"Y-yes mommy," you stammer, and race to comply despite the soreness in your rear.

Your wife unhooks the leash from your collar, and sits down on your lap.

The inferno between her legs is just inches away from you…

CPT Obmeyer licks your ear lobe sensuously.

"Lotte…" she whispers. "Call me Lotte. Do you love me, dearest?"

"I do, Lotte."

"Will you honor me with children, dearest?"

"I will."

Lotte pulls back to look you in the eye.

"Would you suffer for me, beloved?"

Her hand reaches back to grip the handle of her long discarded knife.

You nod. “Love is suffering."

"Prepare yourself."

Lotte pulls you close to her and kisses you repeatedly, hungrily, over and over on the lips.

"My dearest," she pants, “is mine and no one else's, and he serves me with his body." She declares possessively, and presses the knife against your shoulder.

"Tell me to do it," Lotte orders.

"Cut me zaichenya." You plead, and genuinely at that. “Taste my blood, and mark me as yours forever."

Her lips meet yours one final time.

You close your eyes, and cry out in pain as Lotte cuts an “X" into your shoulder blade.

Leaning forward to suck the blood dripping from your shoulder, Lotte closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and guides your cock inside of her.

She screams in terror.

You try to pull away and slip out of her, to comfort her, but Lotte's sucking turns into a bite that holds you in place.

Tears roll down her face and her eyes widen with fear as the wet slap of man meeting woman, interspersed by panicked moans, fills the air.

It starts slowly at first, and completely mechanically at that.

Up, down. Up, down.

Things get more freeform and exploratory however as you progress.

She slows down to wiggle her hips and grind into your lap.

She begins experimenting with pace by alternating periods of measured humping with rapid thrusts.

Then she takes your hand and places it on her chest. “T-touch me…" she gasps. “I-I need it. Play with my body, Pavel."

You do as instructed, and send a shiver up her spine as your hands caress thick arms. Soft, velvety fur hides hard, firm muscles, capable of crushing and caressing You in equal measure.You squeeze a nipple, and she moans loudly. It doesn't take much more after that.

"I-I'm cumming dearest!" Lotte cries, her body shaking. “ I'm cumming!"

Fluid sprays down the length of your shaft with every thrust as your wife ejaculates violently around you.

You have to take over for the last few dozen thrusts, but it doesn't take long before you reach your own breaking point.

"It's happening Lotte!" You moan.

"M-make me a mommy, Pavel!" She moans longingly.

After all this time, and all these weeks of waiting, there's no need for her to ask twice.

You grit your teeth, pull your wife down hard into your lap, and comply with a torrent of cum dumped straight into her womb.

A second wave of pleasure takes hold of your wife.

Stars explode across your vision.

---

You are Staff Sergeant Beckett Beckett, a chipper young lady if there ever was one.

Army life on the frontier isn't easy, and neither is sister management.

As much as you love and respect your commanding officer, Lotte isn't exactly the most emotionally intelligent person in the world.

This is especially true when it comes to understanding her own wants and needs, like missing her husband or admitting how much she likes butt stuff.

Lotte will go days without eating if she feels like someone else deserves it more than her!

Hardly befitting an anthro under as much stress as the decorated commander of Dog Company!

Part of your role as devoted subordinate and best little sister ever is making up for these deficiencies in ways often so subtle that no one notices you've done anything at all.

Like lacing Lotte's granola bar with an extra helping of Omniceptol, or Pavel's soup with Viagra!

It would, of course, be completely unethical to do either, so it's a good thing you're pretending you didn't.

Now, as Lotte's silhouette engulfs Pavel's in the dim glow of her kerosene heater, you can't help but stand tall, kick your boots together, and give an enthusiastic salute towards the air traffic control room you prepared just for the occasion.

"Godspeed, Captain Obmeyer. Make me proud."