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COMFORTABLY NUMB

You hate this

You honestly, truly hate this life.

What immediately followed your surrender to husbandry was frankly worthy of suicide.

Your mother's freedom? Worth it.

Your elder sisters' acquittal? It had to be done.

The family farm? Saved.

Millie? Who needs an orphanage when you have two assignment age sisters to take care of your 3 year old self?

No part of you regrets selling your soul for their freedom.

No part of you, however, is happy with the army husband life.

For one, you're the only one.

In the old days, you're told, husbands went straight from the front lines to the barracks. And the bedroom.

The base kitchens, the laundry, the groomer, and even the commissary were all manned by bored army husbands.

They all knew each other, and had their little "cooking circles" where they'd swap frontier recipes and console each other when their wives traded the open palm for something worse.

That was then. This is now. The Inspectorate got involved after several complaints and a tit measuring contest over jurisdiction. To the Army's anger, they were added to the Assignment Queue like everyone else.

With preference, of course. Otherwise there'd have been a coup.

FT Douglas was designed with the expectation that every officer would have an army husband, as well as the most of the senior enlisted.

Instead there's you, the only male on base and the target of much frustrated longing.

A girl gave you flowers the other day. Brave little fennec walked right up to you, recited some heartfelt words about loving you from afar, and asked to be your special someone.

You weren't wearing your "army husband" gear that day. She completely lost her cool when she found out who your wife is.

Others are less eager to take no for an answer.

So, Lotte insists you stay in the apartment to avoid "insecure gazes."

Fine in theory. Keeps you from being raped, right?

In reality, it means a life spent stranded between the aging brick walls of Lotte's apartment and the ugly yellow walls of Central Administration.

It might be tolerable if it weren't so soul-crushingly routine. Every day seems to play out like the last.

The alarm is set at 2100 hours. It blares at 0600 hours, with the unignorable reverie of Bismarck's only functional rock station: K-BMR "THE BUZZARD BANGERS."

The raucous shouting and irritating subject matter are apparently enough to get your wife up and moving purely out of spite.

You scramble out of bed while Lotte takes a (usually) freezing shower.

Toast, eggs, and turkey bacon

Pig bacon? That's for rich people even in The City. Turkey bacon is cheap, and it's what you can find in the Officer's Commissary.

Lotte is out of the shower and eating at 0630.

You could, theoretically, make food for yourself and Lotte at the same time, but you're not willing to risk the satisfaction of the woman who holds you life in her hands.

Though not consistent, she usually guzzles a 16 oz mug of tea at this time, taken unsweetened and with a minimum of two teabags.

This is an expensive habit. Almost as expensive as her nicotine addiction.

0700 you help her into her great coat, present Lotte her cap, and she's out the door to be early to her 0800 watch.

On Mondays, Lotte will present you with a meticulously designed schedule for the week.

Sometimes that means chores, not that there are many, though sometimes it means going to Central to pick up groceries.

If your hair is too long, it'll order you to get a haircut. If Lotte wants you to wear something different, that means the Commissary. If she wants something special from the City, usually expensive and difficult to acquire, you go to the Requisitions Office.

Fine whiskey from Bismarck City? You go to the Requisitions Office, point out you have unlimited account access, wait for the clerk to phone up Lotte's desk to confirm you really can spend as much as needed, and wait for delivery.

She doesn't drink the stuff herself. She gifts it to others, typically Inspector Goll.

If there's anything available, you figure out what you can cook with what protein's available.

You never, EVER stop to chat with anyone but Dolores (That's Lori to you, sweetheart!), because everyone else is a potential threat to your chastity and Lotte's investment.

When there's free time, and there's a HUGE amount of that, you can read approved material in the home.

The only alternative is meal prepping, which gets old fast.

You are presently going insane because new magazines arrive once a week at best and are chewed through in a little over an hour.

The books she has are all dry as a bone, and typically some kind of military textbook. You've no idea what "force deployment," "fields of fire," and "Élan Vital" are, and no interest in learning.

Lotte inevitably arrives home at 1630 hours. You help her out of her great coat and hat, hang her pants for her, and iron whatever has wrinkled over the last 8 hours.

Dinner is ready at 1830 hours. Protein, vegetables, and a supplemental starch like bread or potatoes.

Assuming all those ingredients are available in a given day, anyways.

Lotte smokes at the window, then reads a work on military theory from Before. Which one varies depending on her day.

At 2000 you share your evening kiss. Lotte's lips are stiff as a board, and completely unresponsive to you.

At 2030 you're in bed, side by side but not touching. The alarm is set at 2100 hours. Rinse and repeat.

Nowhere during the day do you and your wife EVER have sex, even when she comes home from weekend gym visits smelling like a goddess.

You NEVER have sex.

Not when you both inevitably wake up before the alarm.

Not when she occasionally shows up for a home lunch.

And not during the evening rest period.

You're not sure why. Sex seems to be the only thing any anthro cares about, ever.

Does she not get heated?

Does she not find you attractive?

You asked The Captain about this once. All you got was a cryptic warning about "humanity's natural inclination to infidelity" and the order to draw her a cold bath.

In this life you're more of a live in servant than a family member.

At least until the incident.

---

It's a Tuesday. The most boring day of all.

Lotte has her hat in hand.

Breakfast is over, the schedule has been read, and all that's left is your morning speech.

"Anything new today?" You ask in vain.

"No." She answers.

"Would you like anything from Requisitions or the Commissary?"

"No."

"Is there anything special you need this week?"

"Negative."

"Understood. Have a good day, dear."

"I will, husband."

The door slams shut behind her.

Honestly, it wouldn't kill her to be gentle with the thing.

Or you.

This leaves you once again prisoner to the apartment's ugly gray walls.

You check the refrigerator to see if you've forgotten anything.

There are two pounds of chicken, several potatoes, and enough units of asparagus to outfit every evening meal this week.

Shit. There's nothing you need.

Lotte's backup uniform isn't due to be ready from the dry cleaners for another 2 days.

So you threw yourself onto the couch and prepare to stare at the ceiling for the next 7 hours.

Fuck, what a life.

Dinner is done and getting cold when the shouting starts.

The night is dark, the street lamps unlit for near a century, and the otherwise dead downtown area bustling for some kind of visiting notable. A general, or something of that nature.

Lotte never informs you of these things. You somewhat resent her for it.

Noise rises from just down the street, and you push it aside in your mind out of habit.

'Probably more drunk boots' you think.

Then the explosion happens, loud and forceful enough to rattle the window sill.

A bright orange glow lights up the night sky, just out of the building's field of view, bringing with it screams to match the shouting.

A siren goes off, and lights start going on all around Douglas. Then you hear gunshots in the distance.

10 minutes later your wife kicks in the door at the head of a squadron of armed troopers.

SSGT Beckett is the first in, ducking past your wife and racing to throw the window open.

"Clear!" She shouts as four more soldiers pour in, one of whom is being carried.

A large knife juts precariously from a tall maned wolf's thigh, blood running down her torn uniform and across several of those around her.

Through the panic, an obvious question hits you: 'Why in the hell isn't she on a stretcher?'

"Get her on a stable surface!" Lotte shouts, and sweeps the table clean.

The bleeding wolf is laid down, shouting in pain when someone inevitably lifts her leg, but manages to get off orders for one of the troopers to guard the entrance.

What the hell are these girls doing?!

"Were we followed?!" Lotte shouts.

'I JUST convinced her to get that table.' You think sourly.

"Doesn't look like it, ma'am!" Beckett responds, shouldering her rifle. "Gunfire has ceased. Looks like the enemy has taken off already."

Oh fuck, they all have guns.

Lotte is carrying a .45 magnum revolver, while everyone else has one of the iconic semiautomatic rifles you see in all of the propaganda posters.

A kangaroo in a green uniform like Beckett's pushes you aside.

"Any luck with the radio, ma'am?"

"None." Lotte curses, messing with hers several times before giving up. "We're jammed. This was a planned attack."

The maned wolf, Major Charles if you remember correctly, groans in pain. All the jostling she was put through has made the wound worse, and blood pours more intensely from her leg.

"Did the bomb not clue you in, CPT Obvious?!" She groans.

CPT Obmeyer doesn't respond, instead snapping a finger at you. "HUSBAND! Boil some water, and grab the kitchen rags. Recruit Honore, where's our medic? We had a medic!"

Recruit Honore, a tall kangaroo with a country accent, responds. "Domed, CPT. Should've had her helmet on. Honestly, if PVT Hippity-Hop over there can wear one with those big ass ears without bitchin', a fox like her should've-"

Whatever Recruit Honore was about to say is interrupted by Lotte's accusing finger and a shout of indignation in her face. The trooper stumbles back, hits the wall, and lands flat on her ass.

Your wife in contrast rolls up her sleeves and shouts in the kangaroo's face, rage pouring from her like a torrential downpour.

"Listen here, you mule-born child of an ill-bred hosseschisser. I'm going to spare you summary execution because you're new and my husband is watching, but it's time for you to shut the fuck up, grow a tail, and listen!"

In the background you notice SSGT Beckett and Major Charles talking about something. Beckett is shaking her head like she's trying to talk her superior down, while Charles is seemingly insisting on something.

'She better not be...' You think, feeling frustrated.

'Stay out of this,' your cautious side warns. 'Nothing good can come of this, and you were never certified.'

"First," Lotte shouts in the foreground, spraying the unfortunate recruit with spittle, "that is STAFF SERGEANT Beckett, superior to you in every way from your insubordinate attitude to your tacky, regulation-flaunting haircut."

"Second you will NEVER denigrate the honorably deceased again, lest they be the Chairwoman in Absentia herself, am I fucking clear?!"

SSGT Beckett relents after more strained conversation, and rummages around the kitchen. She produces all of your old dishrags, an unopened bottle of Colonel Shepherd, and the shot glass that came with it.

No-no-no-no! You know exactly what's about to happen and they're gonna get her killed!

Still, you're frozen in place by the chaos.

Another trooper barges in shouting for Major Charles, this one carrying what appears to be the medic's toolkit. She's waved over by the Major, who begins telling the lioness something in a calm voice you can't hear over Lotte's tirade.

Major Charles slugs a shot of whiskey, and they all gather around the knife.

She's about to fucking kill herself.

Panic overwhelms your common sense, and the words explode out of you.

"STOP YOU FUCKING IDIOTS!"

Every eye in the room turns towards you.

Lotte's rage turns from the recruit to you without missing a beat. If anything, she looks angrier than ever.

"Pavel Obmeyer, you will go to the fucking bedroom and wait there for me to-"

Too late now.

She'll never love you if she never respects you.

You shove your way past your wife to push Beckett and the lioness away from the major.

"You'll cut the femoral artery if you yank that thing out wrong!"

You point directly at Beckett. Your teacher's voice plays in your head: "In emergency situations you have to give direct orders to specific people to avoid the bystander effect. Leave no ambiguity in who does what."

"Go turn the stove off, there's no point sanitizing dishrags. They're too thin for what we need, and it won't matter if they're sterile if the knife was dirty when it went in. Grab the bathroom towels in the closet; They're heavy, and I washed them this morning."

No one speaks for several agonizing moments. It's Lotte who breaks the silence.

"He was accredited as a trauma nurse before our marriage," your wife lies. She's picked her cap up off the floor and has regained her military bearing. "Do as he says."

And just like that, a magic spell has been cast over all the anthros. For the first time in their lives, they are ready and eager to take orders from a male.

Next you gesture to the lioness. "Bring those over here, let me see what we're working with."

The trooper unwraps the kit and presents you with several pipettes of morphine, a suturing kit, some scissors, a sanitized hypodermic needle, some miscellaneous items, and...

"Jackpot. We've got penicillin."

Why in the hell was a corpswoman carrying something like this? Questions for later.

Major Charles leans forward to take a look, but you put a hand on her chest and push her back onto the table.

Fuck, how would Lotte make someone like her listen to you?

Whatever the answer is, you settle for talking like her. "You are going to lie back and stop straining your muscles. You will stop giving orders and surrender command to CPT Obmeyer, am I understood?"

"Crystal, sir." The major answers. "Fuckin' tits on this one Obmeyer. Where'd you find him?" She laughs weakly.

"Linton, ma'am."

Major Charles laughs again. "You're no fun at all."

Beckett returns with the towels, and you start drawing penicillin. "Trooper, uhh--"

"Faust, sir."

"Trooper Faust, get the scissors. We need to get her out of these pants."

Major Charles pipes up. "At least let me buy you dinner first."

"You will also stop making jokes."

She lies back and gives you a weak thumbs up. "Understood, Mr. Man."

You inject the maned wolf with the antibiotic, no easy task with orange and black fur covering her arm, while CPL Faust cuts her pants leg off.

Beckett observes from the side while Lotte occasionally directs as needed.

The initial assessment looks good. The knife missed the femoral artery by some miracle, but it's still going to need suturing. If it were more than just a long paring knife this could have been a much worse.

Next comes the morphine. "How much do you weigh, Major?"

Mama warned you to never ask a girl that...

"260ish, last I checked."

A bit of quick mental math gets you your answer. "Two pipettes, please."

You inject the Major and wait for it to kick in before proceeding.

Trooper Faust and Beckett hold the Major down.

"Long shot, but does anyone here know how to sew?"

Silence.

To your surprise, it's Lotte's turn to speak up. "I am practiced in sewing and embroidery."

"Do you know how to tie a square knot?"

"I am proficient in the surgeon's knot, yes."

"You're on sutures then."

Beckett and Faust share a suspicious look, but say nothing.

You pour another shot of whiskey for Major Charles. "You're gonna want another one of these."

The maned wolf downs it without complaint as she prepares for the inevitable.

"I'm gonna pull it out on the count of 5. Faust, you're big so I need you to put a lot of pressure on the wound as soon as it's out. Lotte?"

"My implements are ready."

You swallow nervously. This is it. You reach your hand out and grip the knife.

"Alright. 5, 4, 3--"

You yank the knife out. "What happened to the fucking count?!" Major Charles shrieks as Faust brings a heavy towel down onto the open wound.

"Less time to tense up this way."

Not really. Bitch shouldn't have made that gray sweatpants joke back on the train. You're never going to live that one down, it's practically your fucking nickname!

You move away and Lotte steps forward to begin suturing.

Things seem to happen much more quickly after that. Lotte's hands are swift, and her needlework downright incredible.

Even the medics Recruit Honore leads in have nothing but compliments as Major Charles is carried outside to a waiting truck with wrecked paint and bald tires.

Eventually radio contact is restored and new orders come in. Everyone files out of the apartment until it's just you and Lotte left.

You're both a sorry sight, clothes covered in blood and grimy with sweat. Your heart hasn't stopped pounding since Major Charles was brought in, and now it's for an entirely different reason.

Lotte is leering at you. She hasn't blinked in several minutes, and there's a crazed look in her intense, unmoving red eyes.

'She's still furious,' you think. 'She's going to explode!'

Your suspicions seem confirmed when Lotte points an accusatory finger.

"YOU have acted rebelliously."

"I, I did, Lotte please--"

"Shut up." She interrupts, storming over and grabbing you by the bloodstained shirt.

"I have no interest in what you have to say. Your actions...completely unprecedented. Unexpected. You're going to make me disgrace my uniform." She scolds.

"You will wait here, and not touch anything. NOTHING, am I understood?!" She shouts, not waiting for a response. "I am going to remove my uniform. You will attend me when I return."

Jesus Christ, you're going to die.

After weeks of working yourself to the bone to keep her happy she's finally going to discipline you like she's threatened!

She lets go of your shirt brusquely and stomps into the bedroom.

CPT Lotte Obmeyer returns a moment later naked, covered in blood, and visibly dripping fluid down her leg.

The crazy look in her bright red eyes has only gotten worse.

Your erection is immediate.

She springs on you, dashing over and throwing her face against yours in an aggressive and unpracticed open mouth kiss.

You completely melt in her arms, barely able to form a rational thought as you face her onslaught.

She undoes your belt with ease and starts grinding your cock between her thighs, soon slick with fluids and pre-cum.

Your wife grabs you by the bloodstained shirt and inhales a still damp patch.

The effect is instant: her whole body shudders and her knees go bow-legged. Lotte's arms go limp, and she starts sucking on your shirt like a crazed vampire.

"More-!" She shouts manically. "I need more. You--Pavel, husband, my beloved, you will--"

She pauses to hyperventilate, an unsettlingly large smile crossing her face.

"You, you, y-you will refer to me as 'mommy' again, and you will service my body, a-and you will refrain from cumming, and you will not wipe any. of. this. off!"

She grabs your leash, reluctant to stop touching you for even a moment, and latches it to your collar.

"Y-yes mommy!" You stammer. Your body feels like it's on fire with need, and you're unable to take your eyes off Lotte's dripping lips.

Her hand wraps tremblingly around you penis, and she guides you over to the gore covered dinner table.

She climbs on top, smearing more blood over herself, and raises her rear.

A thick strand of girl-drool drips onto the table.

Hunched over submissively, penis leaking and yanked around by a black corded leash, you look more like a debased beast than a man.

"Y-you will service me with your mouth."

She doesn't have to tell you twice.

You're practiced in eating pussy and go straight for the clitoris, licking and sucking her magic button, then rolling it between your lips.

You're rewarded with a chorus of shameless, husky moans, closer to grunts of exertion than anything tender.

The smell and taste of bunny cunt is incomparable.

You're at it for a good 8 minutes before Lotte gives your leash another firm yank.

Readjusting herself and raising her ass further, you see Lotte's lust-drunk, upside down face gazing back at you from between her legs.

"Thank mommy for the privilege of eating her pussy."

"T-thank you mommy," you say. "Please, it's starting to hurt mommy, may I touch it?"

"Not yet," she warns you. "First...first you're going to beg mommy for the privilege of licking her asshole."

Your cock twitches in excitement. Lotte looks at you with the smug satisfaction of someone who knows how aroused she's just made you.

"Please mommy," you beg genuinely, "please let me pleasure mommy's ass."

A sharp yank by the leash drives your mouth between her firm ass cheeks to renewed and yet louder moans.

Fortunately for you, Lotte is the cleanest person you've ever met.

Your wife's face has flushed a bright pink, expressing a deep embarrassment over much she's enjoying this, and her hands snake between her legs to rub her moist clit furiously.

It doesn't take much longer from there. "I'm close," she breathes. "Dearest, I'm so close...! Cum for mommy, dearest! Show her what a good boy you are!"

You don't last long either once your hands touch your penis.

Cum erupts from your cock, as pent up and excessive as that first day on the train together.

The sound of your moans, your tongue in her ass, and then the feel of your seed on her back is enough to send Lotte over the edge.

Your wife ejaculates violently, her whole body spasming as a torrent of hot fluid erupts from her vagina and drench you.

She's still twitching and breathing raggedly a solid minute after the last spurt escapes her. She slumps onto the table with a thud, finally surrendering to exhaustion.

Everything is silent for a while as you both process what's just happened.

"Starlight..." Lotte calls weakly. "Pavel...I need you..."

Coming down from your high, you summon what willpower you have left and gently help your wife off the table.

She's barely able to stand on her wobbly legs, and you have to help her hobble her way to the bathroom.

"Stay..." She whispers. "I don't want to slip under the water and drown."

You comply, and share an unsteady embrace with her as the master tub fills around you.

She takes your collar off and tosses it out weakly. "Do you love me, dearest?"

You answer after a moment's hesitation.

"I do."

Lotte closes her eyes and leans against you.

"Thank you..."