Written by fugi88 ( patreon.com/Fugi88 ), commissions open

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Be careful; there is no sex here but there is touching, which the protagonist... enjoys. There's also mention of a brothel and work, being pimped in a way that's illegal in many (human) countries.

A cradle of cotton. A flash of light. All ten fingers. A pinched nose with no air leaks; i'm real, the air is blocked.

Ok, i was back in reality, a clap of thunder reminding me of the warm comfort of this bed..

I remember what i had saved m self from in my sleep. I remember. Oh, what a horrific dream.

"Make this shit terrifying" was what i shouted out into the suburbia of what i knew was just an illusion.

My  environment responded in a way that only my subconscious could; it brought about the worst. It started with a floor less house falling atop me, red walls and vintage furnishings, a real place of paid depravity and what could almost be considered suffering, according to my brain.

I was the only human in this room.

Barely-human creatures formed of a tight wrapping of charred black bandages and blood wondered the premises and cast their gaze into me, a kind of envious gaze. Being the only human, i was special and could get out of here sooner, my brain reminded me. The gazes were ones that knocked butterflies into my stomach, fluttering around like banknotes in the wind. The phrase "social injustice" bounced around my brain like a bell had rung.

A bag of money fell to my feet. I opened it, but it was only opposite-money, some ¤10,000 in minus-money, some 10,000 of suffering, a voice in my brain conjectured.

"400 days" uttered one of the creatures, one of the larger, more muscular ones. "400 days and you'll pay this off. You'll hate it here. 400 days."

Just under my feet opened up a hole through which i fell.

A cradle of cotton. A flash of amber light. All 7 fingers. All… what fingers? Fuck, i was still here. Out of the window i heard knocking. The tapping of a claw against it, a shadowy thread-monster of my nightmares (literally) staring at me with eyes, flickering amber lights casting a pained red glow across the room. "400 days. Oh, you really shouldn't have fucked with them."

"400 days of pain" he looked almost sympathetic, almost pained by my situation. "I don't want to hurt you, but maybe it'd be better for you…"

"Just step out of bed. Climb through the window. I'll meet you and take your debt."

"HELP" i screamed. And again, and again. I had to escape this place. Thank you subconscious, for the nightmare, can we end it now?

The dream finally ended and here i was again, the cradle of cotton during the storm, the first one this season. My bed was a warm recluse from the cold house.

Gosh, what a cozy life here. If it wasn't for the drought, it'd be perfect. I feasted on the silence as i tried to find sleep again, somehow having drifted away when i woke up. Was it as scared as i?

I heard a car pull up outside. My clock said it was 03:24. How strange. Maybe it was our night-shift-working neighbor.

Strange voices with foreign accents, even foreigner then was usual for my little expat neighborhood. The thin window let the sound of these deep, guttural voices through.

"We're here, it's the address"

It's a voice i recognised from the phone, those conversations painted red with internal liquid and green with overrated paper.

It was the dark part of my life that had come to visit.

"Ugh, their gate is locked."

"Don't worry, i have the ram"

A pause and then a great big bang as the gate slammed against the inside of the external wall. It was a solid iron gate, the kind designed to protect against all burglars. I remember what they said in the calls. Oh, you should have read the small print. You should have. You're ours now. No point crying!

"Ha, look at this weak door!"

A big bang from the main room as a sudden noise of cracking wood gave way to just as sudden of a impact noise, the wood hitting the floor. A cold draft ran into my room, slamming my door open.

"You, guard the exit. I'll go find our lost client."

"Coffee machine, ¤30. Microwave, ¤200 TV, ¤300."

I sat up and donned my gown, the closest garment to my bed, his steps still approaching.

"Antique kitsch painting, value to be determined. Dated copy of Lord of the Rings, possibly original, value to be determined."

They weren't quite human steps nor voices, either.

I stood up and got my slippers on. These damn tiles are too cold!

"Unopened box of Methylphenidate, black market rate ¤75"

Not my damn pills!

I scanned my room for anything that could be used as a weapon. I had a small, mostly blunt knife i had used for cutting apples yesterday. Thank god i didn't bother taking it to the sink yesterday. Well, not so much didn't bother as just forgot to. I had also neglected to sharpen it. What a shame, my pointer finger's cut reminded me. What a shame, the noises outside reminded me. What a shame that i was i. What a shame i had taken their loan. What a shame everything was! Ah, shame, one of life's great treasures.

I walked out into the hallway and saw the thing standing there.

The full moon shining through the hallway mirror next to it, i saw its silhouette first. It was a block of flesh, two metres tall and sharply defined with muscle.

It was hardly wearing anything but a pair of underpants with a zipper across the middle and a series of belts across its pecs.

I could just about see a yellowy flare to his hair, mixing with the whites.

"Well, i guess i found our client…" he teasingly muttered with an air of dominance. "Put the knife down."

Did werewolves really exist in this world? No, it was impossible. No, it had to be a dream!

I still had all 10 fingers. None passed through each other. No, not a dream.

"If you know what's good for you, i suggest you drop the damn knife", he reinforced.

He's serious now. Fearing his strength, i gently unwrapped my fingers, letting the knife fall to the floor with a clattering noise.

"That's what i like to see."

The creature eyed me up and down, looking for my weaknesses.

"Come here."

I was too frozen with the fear to let myself walk to the damned beast.

I waited a second, us staring at each other. What beautiful abs! Oh, and those legs! Gosh, my libido's too high for my good.

It, instead, grabbed me with its hand, the claws digging slightly into my shoulder, a flash of lightning the instant he touched me painting the creature in a sickly white light. It sent tingles down me to feel it rest its power on me, the hand that could kill being used to merely restrain me. Oh, he was serious now. It almost turned me on.

"I don't want no funny business. Once you leave the house, you're getting into the boot.", he said, "If i hear a single word or see a single hint of rebellion….", he continued, "You're going back to sleep. And not in a good way, either."

The thunder arrived, a deep, evil rumble reverberating through the wet mountains that surrounded our neighborhood.

The creature took my wrist and dragged me through my house, past the hallway's window., past the living room, past the front door and the werewolf who was guarding the house..

Terror makes a mind work differently. Rationality falls out of the window. Survival takes over the head. Anything, just to live the next day, would be fine. And i wasn't sure if i'd live the next day under these loan sharks, having already received enough threats that they could kill me right here, an example to those who take without giving back.

We went past the busted gate and i was shoved into the car on the other side of the road.

It was a beat up metal box from the 60s, of which i was being shoved into the boot of. I had to assume a fetal position, which i knew would make my knees hurt. A draft blew in from the wheel bay near my head, sucking away what little warmth i had made between the boot lid and the floor, driving a chill into my under-dressed body.

The car moved down in a kind of mechanical exhaustion, the creatures hopping on board with their great weight.

I looked for emergency release levers in the boot. Fuck, i didn't know what they looked like!

The engine eventually kicked to life and we started moving.

There was this one lever… wait, no, it's just a hook for a chord!

I counted the turns and tried to guesstimate where we were. We were already at the end of my street and finding the way to the main road.

Damn these cars!

And we then reached the motorway, where i found myself losing my way.

When we stopped, i had long-ago fallen into a state of half-sleep, the poor suspension keeping me from yet more rest. The boot opened and the cold air hit like a cup of coffee, bringing me back to full consciousness, giving me lucidity.

I stared at the three captors crowded around the boot. On the right was the one who i had met in the hallway, the middle the one who was guarding my door, and to the left a werewolf i hadn't seen before.

Each were wearing the same skimpy “clothes". The one on the right held a gun slung against his shoulder, pointing back.

The one in the middle had a phone blaring a laughingly clinical white light. "Oh, we have the client in our facility now. He's perfect for the spice restaurant" he said, in a low and nasal-ish tone. Was i going to be forced to work somewhere to pay off my debt?

Each of the three looked at me with an expression of malicious victory, a dangerous kind of victory, the one that told me one statement: "You fucked up. Like, seriously. Fuuuuuck.". Their stares, each checking out my curves past the loose fabric of the gown, drove the butterflies in my stomach into a flight so anxious one would worry the butterflies had butterflies in their tummy, too.

I'm fucked.

The left one had orange highlights in their hair, with black arms holding studded bracelets. His right foot sat on the wall of the car, his gentle fidgeting bouncing the car slightly to flex his dominance over me, no, their dominance over me.

The one in the middle had ears that pointed straight up, his left hand groping the side of yellow-haired werewolf slightly.

"Yeah, the testing's going to have to happen, handover possible at 19:00." said the straight-eared one, hanging up his call.

Fuck, was i going to sit some stupid exam?

"You'll need this" said the one on the right, as he placed the gun on the floor with a slight plasticity hollow clacking noise. He leaned in to put my neck into the loop of the leash. He held onto the other end, careful to keep his grip on what held me now.

Terror makes you act strange. I would have resisted if i wasn't so terrified under the watchful glare of these three creatures, their thick claws ready to shred skin.

I was now under the full control of the yellow werewolf. It was kind of appealing to think about him having his way with me, but the terror kept the sexual euphoria away, somewhat.

They could sense my terror, i could tell.

"We might be loan sharks, well… more loan werewolves, but we don't want to hurt you", introduced the black-armed one, in a low, slow, still-domineering tone. "No, you're too valuable to be lost… for now"

Their "soothing" words didn't work very well.

"We have better things to do then be cruel to such an sellable client", teased the yellow-haired one. "Well, no, it depends on your definition of cruel, i guess."

The one on the left leaned in to grab me, the other two to moving away so he could take me in his arms, a cradling hold. I could feel the compassion in him through his arms, radiating from him in a gentle, warm way.

Oh, how comfortable it was! The muscle and the hair worked together far better then any pillow i had ever been on, the slow changes of pressure of each balancing-step he found himself taking being just what i needed! Oh, my abstinence was worth it. It was!

It was the warmth though, that sold it. I was almost shivering in the car because it was so cold, but here? It was perfect. His naked warmth against my dressing gown provided the most awesome feelings. The tingles went straight into my dick. Why had i overworked myself to pay back these werewolves when i could have been just here? Oh, it was amazing to finally be able to give in someone!

"Hey, look at this guy, hes getting off to just being carried!" Said my carrier, noticing my growing boner.

"Oh, you have a lot to get used to, then", teased orange-hair. "Oh, we'll build up your tolerance"

I was carried into a metal shed. I was let  onto the floor, standing on the cold, almost abrasive concrete.

The shed was quite bare. There was a sink and toilet, lube and extra large condoms, a table with a thin foam pad, and a futon were strewn about. A chair sat in the corner, upon which the straight-eared werewolf sat on.

An electronic heater sat in the corner of the room, making a constant whirring noise. It was surprising it could heat such a large space.

"Welcome to our testing shed. State of the art, just for you" joked the black-armed one.

He took a step back to give me the space to find myself.

"Take off the gown", said the yellow-haired one. "I want to see just how valuable our client is"

"Oh, not a client, no, our inventory" quipped the straight-eared one.

I let my gown drop to the floor. If this was the direction i thought it was going, i knew my fantasies would finally come true. Oh, how much i  would have gave for this!

"Beautiful curves" the black-armed one commented in a kind of light admiration.

"Oh, we always needed this kind of body to fill in our portfolio" added the yellow-haired one

"I can already imagine how much we're going to make from this" half-joked the straight-eared one

"Hmmm… we should begin testing", the yellow-haired one half-teased. “We need to see whether they're a category III or II, heck, maybe even a category I !"

After the testing had rendered me exhausted, the werewolves went to begin talking.

"Well, how's your freelancing gig been going?" asked the yellow werewolf to the black-armed one, as if he was unaware of what he'd just done 30 seconds ago, his boner still flying.

"Oh, absolute shit. Nobody cares for what marketing i do and nobody's contacted me for a commission."

"Have you tried penetrative pricing? I remember reading about it once."

"Well, yes, but i don't even know where to post my prices!"

"Just keep posting your work, someone might just become interested."

"I'm already doing that!"

The black-armed looked at me. It wasn't a normal kind of look. It went through me so deeply it's going through me and to you, reading this text.

"You'll be in the central hall. If a person chooses you, get the money first and then go into your designated sex room with them", he explained.

"You'll have a menu of services with set prices. If they ask for anything off the menu, negotiate.", he continued. "If it's lower then ¤75, it's not worth your time. Ask for a higher price or direct them to the lower categories. gauge their bank balance."

"Go back to the central hall and meet the next client. The sooner you earn back your debt, the sooner you get to leave", he said.

The yellow-haired then turned to me.

"If you don't get the brothel money, we'll have to sell your possessions."

"It'll be a shame to have to demolish the door that's been rebuilt now, wouldn't it?", he teased with a strong twang of seriousness. "Oh, You are not a free man anymore."

A chill swept over me at that statement. I didn't even know what country i was in. Was this whole thing against the law here? And what did it matter i was under the control of these wolves?

They stood up to leave, the straight-haired one shutting his laptop and moving to leave.

"Stay here until we get you", said the black-arm one before walking past the self-locking door, leaving me all alone.

I put on my gown as i shook a little shiver in this place. The werewolves brought a kind of warmth, a kind of rude hospitality, a double-edged nature. When they were gone, the warmth was gone and replaced with the cold.

I took the futon and the blanket and let the tiredness wash over me. I finally got to continue the sleep that was so rudely interrupted, trying to get asleep before the growingly yellow red in the sky would render that impossible.

The end

Some notes:

• Money
  • ¤ is the standard universal currency sign. I've used it here as it's not used very much anymore so makes a good choice for their economy.
  • The currency ¤ is equivalent in value to the euro. (side note: i chose not to use the euro as it'd imply the werewolves were part of the eurozone despite them trying to hide themselves from humans)
  • Devising currency exchange between the werewolves and the euro such that the protagonist could borrow money from the is left as an exercise to the reader.
• The werewolves are not known to humans save for those who came back, but their stories are so ridiculous it might was well be fantasy (…right?).
• Yes, the werewolves do speak English. Blame it on a scientific experiment in America gone wrong or just a coincidence of language evolution. I do think English suits these savages.
• Some info to help you better differentiate the characters, should you find yourself needing it:
  • The group of werewolves form a loan sharking group with ties to the sex industry
  • The yellow-haired one is the leader of the group and has a special contract with the brothel owner regarding the transformation of loan shark clients to prostitutes, allowing him the money he gives away to get more prostitutes
  • The straight-eared one is the accountant of the team, making sure to keep the boring non-sexual stuff in check. They have a low libido, but watch out when they get horny!
  • The black-armed one is responsible for the management of the clients when at the facility
• Because i generally don't make eye contact in conversation, i don't normally write about eye colour. Sorry if it prevents intimacy; you can always complain in the comments if you feel it's that bad, and i'll be happy to include at least some references to it.