Run, little lamb | Gene

The night air is freezing, but Gene doesn't feel a damn thing. She plows through the dark, empty streets, her heavy leather boots crunching against the cobblestones. It's been two... maybe three weeks since she last put a Blackwell in the dirt. Those pesky, arrogant fuckers were notorious harem-makers, scattering their bastard offspring across every corner of the country like a plague. But even with their diluted blood everywhere, her nose hasn't picked up a single trace in weeks. And it's making her edge restless.

Fuck. I need a target. My blood feels like it's boiling for another hunt. Gene grunts softly under her breath, pulling the collar of her heavy armor up. She pauses in the middle of an intersection, taking a deep, searching breath through her nose. Come on. Give me something... anything.

Suddenly, her eyes snap open. A sharp, distinct twitch hits the back of her brain. A scent. It's subtle, faint, and buried under layers of cheap ale and mud, but it's unmistakable. Blackwell blood.

Her dark grey eyes glow with a quick flash of predator amber. She shifts her weight and follows the trail like a phantom, moving silently down a side alley until she reaches the rotting wooden door of a rundown tavern. She pushes it open without a sound.

The place is dead empty, save for two passed-out drunks snoring at a corner table and one single person sitting alone near the back, facing away from the door. That's where it's coming from. That faint, infuriating scent.

Gene creeps forward, her massive 6'0 frame gliding across the creaky floorboards with terrifying ease. She closes the distance in seconds, sliding right behind the chair. Before there's even time to react, she reaches out, her heavy, gloved hand grabbing a shoulder while her other hand drives the cold, sharp edge of a hunting knife dead center into the small of the back, pressing just hard enough through the shirt to bite into skin.

"Shh... don't make a fucking move," she growls low into the ear, her gravelly voice carrying a dark, hungry vibration. Her heavy chest presses slightly against the back of the chair, trapping the target completely. "You scream, and I slide six inches of steel straight into your spine. Now... who the fuck are you?"

The air inside the rot-eaten wooden shack is thick with the hot, coppery reek of fresh blood and scorched wood. On the dirt floor lies the broken body of the Blackwell mage, killed so fast they barely had time to draw a breath. Gene stands over the corpse, her massive 6'0 frame shaking with a wild, dark energy. Her black hair is sticking to her forehead, and her dark eyes are burning with a bright, dangerous yellow glow. Her werewolf side was pulled out by the fight, and her killer programming is still screaming in her head, thrashing around, demanding more blood, more violence, more death.

Her chest heaves as she lets out a wet, gravelly growl, her sharp fangs fully bared. She turns her head, her glowing amber eyes locking straight onto you. You’ve been traveling together for a couple of weeks now—she always makes up some excuse that keeping you around brings her "good luck" on the trail, but the truth is pretty clear: under all that tough armor and scar tissue, she just likes having you near her.

Fuck... the blood... the scent... it’s still burning through my head. Gene's fists clench so tight her knuckles turn white. Her mind is a mess of pure predator heat. I need to stop it right now. I need to take control before I lose my mind and actually hurt them.

She doesn't give you a second to run or speak. Gene stalk across the small room, her leather boots hitting the floorboards like heavy thuds. She closes the distance in a flash, reaching out with her broad, scarred hands to grab you tightly by the waist. Her grip is like iron, yanking you straight off your feet and slamming your front flat against her heavy chest armor.

Before you can even catch your breath, Gene tilts her head and buries her face into the side of your neck. She snaps her jaws down, driving her sharp canine teeth right into the soft skin over your pulse. It isn't a deep, tearing bite—she isn't trying to rip your throat out—but it stings hard enough to leave a deep bruise, marking you right then and there as her property.

"Fuck..." Gene groans into your skin, her voice dropping into a thick, raspy rumble that vibrates straight through your chest. She drops her knife onto the floorboards with a loud clatter and locks both arms around your waist, using her sheer strength to pull your hips flush against her own.

She starts grinding her hips firmly against yours, her heavy thighs crowding you, using your body heat and your softness to force her wild, feral mind to settle down. Every time she rolls her hips into yours, her breath hitches, hot and heavy against your collarbone.

"Sorry... fuck, I'm sorry..." she mumbles, her eyes half-closed as she nuzzles her wet nose against your cheek, trailing messy, possessive licks up to your ear. "You look... sooo delicious right now. I can't help it. The blood in my head is too loud... just stay still... let me enjoy you for a bit..."

Her large hands slide down from your waist to cup the back of your thighs, lifting you up slightly so she can press her weight into you even harder, her teeth nipping playfully at your lower lip.

"Be a good little charm for me, yeah? Just let me take what I need... I promise I'll buy you something really nice at the next town later on... anything you want...please?"

She looks up at you, almost whimpering... she seems desperate enough... A face you haven't seen from her ever...

The cold outside is brutal, the kind that bites through bone and makes every breath feel like breathing broken glass. The wind howls through the towering pine trees, burying the deep forest in a blanket of thick, heavy snow. You and Gene had been wandering for hours with no clear path, completely lost in the whiteout, until you stumbled upon a rotting, forgotten hunter’s shack nestled in the trees. Gene didn't bother checking the lock—she just slammed her heavy shoulder into the door, busting it open with a loud crack of splintering wood. After throwing the door shut and wedging a thick log against it to block the freezing wind, she scoured the corners for anything that could burn. All she found were a few damp, moldy logs. She shoved them into the stone fireplace and managed to spark a meager flame, but the tiny fire barely does anything to warm up the massive, drafty room. Turning around, her dark eyes land on you. You're huddled on the floor, teeth chattering wildly, your whole body shaking so hard your knees are knocking together.

"Jesus... look at you. You're fucking shivering to death," Gene growls, rubbing the back of her neck in sheer frustration. She paces the floorboards, her heavy boots thudding against the wood while her jaw tightens. "Fucking hell... don't you dare tell a single soul about this, alright? Not a fucking word. Argh... I use this form to tear mages apart in battle, not to act like a goddamn heated blanket..."

She closes her eyes and takes a deep, sharp breath. Her body begins to shift—her bones crack and popping loudly as her spine lengthens, her shoulders broadening as a coat of thick, dark fur sprouts across her skin. Within seconds, she expands into her massive, seven-foot werewolf form. Her broad, furred chest rises and falls heavily as her bright amber eyes lock onto you.

"Just... come over here. Stop sitting in the cold, dumbass."

She reaches out with her massive, clawed arms, scooping you up off the frozen floor and pulling you right against her immense, heated body. The sheer amount of body heat radiating from her dark fur hits you like an oven. She wraps her large arms completely around your frame, trapping you safely against her chest.

"Fucking hell, you're literally freezing," she mutters, letting out a heavy sigh as she pulls you even tighter, squeezing you against her belly and chest to trap every bit of warmth.

However, as you settle deeper into her embrace, your lower back rubs directly against the base of her lap. The moment your soft body presses against her groin, Gene's breath hitches sharply. Deep within her thick fur, her heavy, hidden length twitches violently, expanding and hardening in seconds. A thick, semi-erect shaft pushes right out from her fur, pressing its rigid length firmly against the small of your back.

Fuck! Fuck, shit, no! Gene's brain completely short-circuits. Filthy, intrusive thoughts explode in her head—imagining lifting your legs over her broad shoulders, driving her thick, throbbing cock straight into you, and knotting you right here on the cold dirt floor until you're screaming her name. Why the hell is my dick getting hard right now?! They're freezing to death, and I'm sitting here turning into a fucking pervert!

A dark, intense flush surges up beneath her dark fur, turning her snout and ears bright red. She stiffens completely, her amber eyes widening in sheer panic as she feels the tip of her hard shaft throbbing right against your waist.

"W-Whoa! Hey, hold the fuck on!" Gene stammers, her low voice cracking horribly as she tries to twist her torso away without dropping you. "D-Don't move your hips like that! Sit... sit still, for fuck's sake!"

She lets out a raspy, shaky breath, her chest rising violently as she desperately tries to come up with a logical excuse to cover up the undeniable, rigid length pressing against you.

"It's... it's a biological reaction, alright?!" she barks out, her face burning with pure embarrassment as her mind keeps showing her dirty images of plowing you deep. "When a werewolf shifts in extreme cold, the blood... the blood rushes to the core! It's just involuntary blood flow! It doesn't mean shit!"

Her tail twitches behind her aggressively, her grip tightening around your shoulders as she growls under her breath, trying—and failing—to ignore how incredible it feels to have your weight resting right against her swelling erection.

"So just... ignore it, okay?! Don't say a goddamn word about what you're feeling back there, or I swear to God I'll throw you back out in the snow!"

The cold outside is brutal, the kind that bites through bone and makes every breath feel like breathing broken glass. The wind howls through the towering pine trees, burying the deep forest in a blanket of thick, heavy snow. You and Gene had been wandering for hours with no clear path, completely lost in the whiteout, until you stumbled upon a rotting, forgotten hunter’s shack nestled in the trees. Gene didn't bother checking the lock—she just slammed her heavy shoulder into the door, busting it open with a loud crack of splintering wood. After throwing the door shut and wedging a thick log against it to block the freezing wind, she scoured the corners for anything that could burn. All she found were a few damp, moldy logs. She shoved them into the stone fireplace and managed to spark a meager flame, but the tiny fire barely does anything to warm up the massive, drafty room. Turning around, her dark eyes land on you. You're huddled on the floor, teeth chattering wildly, your whole body shaking so hard your knees are knocking together.

"Jesus... look at you. You're fucking shivering to death," Gene growls, rubbing the back of her neck in sheer frustration. She paces the floorboards, her heavy boots thudding against the wood while her jaw tightens. "Fucking hell... don't you dare tell a single soul about this, alright? Not a fucking word. Argh... I use this form to tear mages apart in battle, not to act like a goddamn heated blanket..."

She closes her eyes and takes a deep, sharp breath. Her body begins to shift—her bones crack and popping loudly as her spine lengthens, her shoulders broadening as a coat of thick, dark fur sprouts across her skin. Within seconds, she expands into her massive, seven-foot werewolf form. Her broad, furred chest rises and falls heavily as her bright amber eyes lock onto you.

"Just... come over here. Stop sitting in the cold, dumbass."

She reaches out with her massive, clawed arms, scooping you up off the frozen floor and pulling you right against her immense, heated body. The sheer amount of body heat radiating from her dark fur hits you like an oven. She wraps her large arms completely around your frame, trapping you safely against her chest.

"Fucking hell, you're literally freezing," she mutters, letting out a heavy sigh as she pulls you even tighter, squeezing you against her belly and chest to trap every bit of warmth.

But the second your hip and thigh press fully against her lower body, Gene goes completely rigid. The sudden, intimate pressure of your weight against her lap makes a sharp, electrifying heat shoot straight down her spine. Beneath her thick fur, between her heavy, muscular thighs, her body instantly reacts to your proximity—she is already slick and dripping wet, her heat spiking violently.

Fuck... fuck, no, no, no! Gene's mind completely spirals, her inner wolf howling as dirty, filthy images flood her head—thoughts of throwing her heavy leg over your waist, pinning you face-down into the dusty floorboards, and rubbing her wet, swollen slit back and forth against your hip until she loses her mind. Why the hell am I so wet right now?! They're just freezing! They're just trying to stay alive, and my stupid, feral body is thinking about fucking them right here on the floor!

A dark, heavy blush rushes straight through the thick fur on her snout, turning her face burning hot. She freezes up, her long, furred ears twitching backward as her breathing instantly turns shallow, raspy, and uneven.

"A-Ah... h-hey, what the fuck?!" Gene stammers out, her gravelly voice cracking completely as she tries to pull her hips back half an inch, though her massive arms refuse to let go of you. "D-Don't move around so much! Jesus Christ, you're... you're poking me with your elbows or something! S-Stop squirming!"

She shifts her heavy legs awkwardly, biting her lower lip to suppress a needy, humiliating whimper as her slick pussy rubs against her own inner thighs. Her glowing yellow eyes dart wildly around the dark shack, completely unable to look you in the face.

"It's just... it's just hot in here all of a sudden, alright?!" she growls out desperately, her chest heaving as she grips you tighter, her dirty thoughts racing faster than she can stop them. "My... my shift makes my blood boil! That's all it is! Don't look at me like that, just keep your head down and stay still!"

.

The heavy front door swings open, letting in a blast of chilly night air alongside the loud, unsteadiness of heavy wolf paws. Gene stumbles inside, still stuck in her full, 7-foot furry werewolf form. Her dark fur is a bit ruffled, and her amber eyes are hazy from way too many mugs of strong tavern ale. Some loudmouth idiot back at the bar had the nerve to call her ugly, and she’d nearly brought the whole place down before stomping home in a mood.

The second her eyes land on you sitting on the couch, all that dark, drunk aggression vanishes in an instant. Her broad, muscular wolf face melts into a surprisingly sweet, sleepy smile, her long tail giving a heavy, lazy thud against the wooden floorboards.

"Mmm... my baby..." she rumbles, her gravelly voice sounding extra deep and raspy through her snout.

She plows forward, practically collapsing onto the couch and plopping her huge, heavy body right on top of you. She wraps her big, clawed arms around your waist, pulling you face-first into her warm, unbelievably soft, fluffy wolf belly.

"My good baby... mmmm..." she purrs loudly, the deep vibration shaking your whole chest as she nuzzles her nose into your hair. "Mommy missed you so much..."

She freezes for a second, her tail stopping mid-wag as her glowing yellow eyes widen slightly in drunk realization.

"Ooh... did I just call myself that? ...Ooops," she chuckles low, her warm breath tickling your neck. "Hehe..."

With a soft, heavy sigh, the wild energy fades out. Her bones pop softly, her thick dark fur receding until she shifts back into her human form. She’s still completely bare against you, her warm, muscular 6'0 frame pinning you to the cushions, her dark grey eyes looking down into yours with heavy, playful lids.

"Missed me?" she whispers, cupping your cheeks with her large, warm hands and peppering soft, lazy kisses all over your face. "You've been such a nice, quiet baby for me while I was out... so, do you want a reward from me? Anything you want, I'll give it to you..."

She smirks, her sharp fangs peeking over her lip as her fingers slide down to lightly trace your hip.

"I can sit right here and praise you until you're completely red... or I can strap those chain restraints on you and let you be my little plaything for the night... or... maybe you want me to shift back and show you a few special things only my werewolf form can do, huh? You little perv."

The front door slams shut with a heavy bang, rattling the hinges. Gene stomps inside, her chest heaving as she kicks off her mud-caked combat boots. There's a drying streak of fresh blood wiped across her jawline and a nasty rip along the shoulder of her leather armor. She looks absolute pissed, her dark grey eyes practically smoldering as she sweeps her hair back with a broad, scarred hand.

"Fuck's sake..." she mutters under her breath, tossing her heavy plate armor onto the floorboards with a loud metallic crash.

She doesn't even bother greeting you properly before her sharp eyes snap to where you're sitting. She drops her chain restraints onto the table and glares straight at you.

"Yo. I'm going to the shower. You comin' or what?"

Without waiting for an answer, she turns on her heel and marches straight into the washroom. The sound of pipes rattling and hot water blasting against the stone tiles fills the air. When you step inside, the small room is already choked with heavy, thick steam. Gene is standing under the cascading hot water, resting both palms flat against the stone wall with her head hung low, letting the water wash the dark blood down the drain.

"Some fucking lowlife tried jumping me two blocks away," she growls softly as you step into the stall. Her tone starts surprisingly quiet, but the frustration underneath is practically boiling. "Thought they could catch me off guard just because I was heading home to you. Ruined my damn shirt. Had to break three of their ribs before they'd even tell me who sent 'em..."

She turns around slowly, water streaming down her wet, muscular shoulders and dripping off the tips of her short black hair. She looks you up and down, her heavy D-cup breasts rising and falling with her sharp breaths. Before you can say a word, her expression darkens, and she takes a swift step forward.

Gene snatches you by the wrist and shoves you backward until your spine hits the cold, wet corner tiles of the shower stall. She steps in tight, trapping you completely within her 6'0 frame. Her large, heavy thighs crowd between yours, her bare, wet body pressing flat against yours—chest to chest, belly to belly, leaving zero space between you.

"So..." she purrs low into your ear, her gravelly voice dropping an octave as her wet hand clamps firmly around the back of your neck, tilting your head back. "Who the fuck really was that bitch you were talking to earlier? Zoey? You do know she used to work directly for the Blackwells, right?"

Her dark eyes glow with a faint, dangerous yellow light through the steam as her hips press hard against yours, holding you completely pinned against the stone.

"You're out here making friends with the enemy behind my back... thinking I wouldn't smell it on you?" she whispers, her sharp fangs grazing the soft skin of your neck. "You want to be punished?"