Mice in the Wolves' Den
#3 of Wolves and Mice
Kylie and I hold each other closely, trying not to get separated in the roiling mass of rodent bodies. In the distance, we can make out the remains of our village. Most of the buildings have been flattened, and many of the rest are on fire. As the wolves carry us further away, soon the plumes of smoke are the only thing I can see. Inside the cage, we are crammed shoulder to shoulder with each other. This is made infinitely worse by the wolf, who is carefree while carrying the cage, jostling and swinging it about, sending us flying. More than a few mice are injured in the process. How Kylie and I survived unhurt, I do not know.
The wolfess is there too. She and her mate are chatting idly about unimportant things, oblivious to our plight.
At last, we arrive at their den. It is a cave, far upriver and inland from our village. In the event we should escape, I doubt any of us could find our way back.
"I'll be in in just a second", he tells his mate. She goes inside. He veers off, taking us into the brush a short way from the entrance, and sets the cage down on the ground. His reason for doing quickly so becomes all-too apparent.
He squats down on all fours, ass facing us, and lifts his tail. He grunts, anus dilating, and begins shitting out the remains of his large meal. It isn't a pretty sight. The canine digestive system has obliterated the mice he ate. Bleached white bones, teeth, and other indigestible mouse parts are clearly visible in his stool. Their soft tissue has been absorbed by the wolf, fueling his body and making it bigger and stronger.
"It can't watch, Valdis. It's so horrible" Kylie says, turning and pressing her face into my chest.
I stare at a skull the wolf has just passed, wondering if I'd known him or her. It's very likely - the village was small, and I knew many of the people the wolf had eaten. As I sit there staring at the skull with its empty eye sockets, and a simple truth dawns on me. All of us in this cage here, we are witnessing our future. This is what we can look forward to. Being consumed by the wolf, spending our last moments in agony in his stomach, passing through his colon, and him shitting out our remains somewhere to rot in the sun. I hold my Kyrie closer. I don't know how many more opportunities we'll have to be close.
The wolf finishes his bowel movement with a relieved grunt. He stands up, and smiles at us. "I thought you'd want to say goodbye to your friends." He picks the cage back up, and carries us into the cave, to a carved wall. I can only describe it as being about the size and shape of a wolf-sized bathtub, without any faucet or drain. To my amazement, I notice it already contains a handful of mice.
The wolf opens the top of the cage, and unceremoniously upends it, dumping us out into the stony receptacle. Kyrie and I hit the ground. She's dazed, so I help her up, and we scramble towards the edge of the tub. I try to climb out, but the surface is sheer and utterly unclimbable. And to my great dismay, I notice the wall is etched with the unmistakable furrows of mouse claws - mementos left by earlier captives.
The wolf turns to leave, but pauses, then turns back. He reaches in, and plucks a mouse I don't recognize at random from the crowd. The mouse squeals, begging the wolf to let her go. "I've always been a bed-time snacker" he says, popping the mouse into his mouth, and swallowing. A bulge containing the unfortunate rodent travels down his throat, disappearing into his stomach. The wolf then turns and leaves. Soon, we hear snoring from the other room.
A group of us new arrivals approach the other mice.
"Who are you?", one of my group asks them.
A young looking mouse answers. "We were brought here several weeks ago when our village was destroyed by the wolves. They captured us and brought us here. Except him", he says, indicating a haggard mouse sitting nearby, at the edge of the tub. "He was here when we got here."
The aforementioned mouse is a shocking sight - skinny, covered in prematurely grey fur, with deep lines etched around his eyes. He stares at us as if he is looking right through us - as if we don't exist.
"What's your story?", I ask the stranger.
"My name is Lammert, and I've been here... I don't know how long. A very long time. A couple of years, at least. They like me, you see. They think of me as some kind of pet. What happens is that they bring in a batch of mice, and drop them in here with me. To keep me company, you see." He puts an especially bitter emphasis on this last statement. "Then they eat you, or do... things... to you, until I'm the only one left. And then they bring in a fresh batch and start over again. I've seen hundreds, maybe thousands, of mice go through here."
"The female is named Calpurnia and the male is named Remus. They're both heartless predators, but especially beware of Remus. He's creative and very cruel."
Remus wakes up the next morning with a raging hard-on. It's not just normal morning wood either - that mouse he swallowed last night before bed had struggled quite a bit in his belly, making him severely horny. That's when Remus notices that Calpurnia is gone - she must have left to go hunting before Remus woke up.
Remus walks over to the mouse tub, his erection bobbing with each step. As he appears over them, their soft chattering immediately dies. He reaches into the crowd, grabbing a mouse in each paw. He rubs one of the mice against his balls, and the other one against the head of his cock. They thrash against his most sensitive flesh, their petting and thumping making him mewl in pleasure.
Some of the mice look up in horror at the wolf, while others turn away in horror.
The mice's stroking quickly brings Remus to the edge of climax. He opens his eyes and looks down at his cock, and the mice in the tub below. His knot is fully engorged, and the mouse on his cock-tip is soaked through with the his juice. Feeling the pressure in his balls start to build, he rubs them both vigorously across his cock. His sensitive ears can hear the mice's bones starting crack one-by-one, but he doesn't care - he simply wants to get off in the most pleasurable way possible.
He gives one final stroke, feeling the sweet relief of orgasm wash over him. He howls in pleasure, aims his cock into the tub, and watches with shuddery amusement as ropes of his cum fly down onto the mice. He rides out the climax, stroking the mice roughly over his cock, trying to draw out his pleasure as much as possible.
When it's over, Remus leans against the tub for support. His mice playthings are dead. The fur over most of their bodies is missing, and their skin bloody and peeled. Too bad - he's used a lot of mice to jerk-off, and they were some of the best ones he's ever had. He pops them into his maw, and swallows, enjoying their cum-flavoring.
Then he looks down into the tub. Many of the mice have scattered to the edges, but some are trapped in the center, mired in his cum. "I love bobbing for mice!"
Lammert sits in a corner of the tub, watching the horrible scene play out in front of him with muted interest.
Not five minutes ago, the morning quiet had been interrupted as the wolf appeared over the edge of the tub, plucked two unfortunate mice from the group, and started using them to pleasure himself. And damn him, he did it in full view of the rest of the mice. As soon as the wolf had appeared, Lammert realized what was happening and ran to his customary spot at the edge of the tub nearest the wolf. Shortly thereafter, the other mice realize what was happening. Driven crazy with fear, they stampeded away from the wolf. By then, Lammert had put a safe distance between himself and the crowd.
Now he sits, and watching the tragedy unfold in front of him. Again. He's seen this particular scene play out numerous times, and has become desensitized to the horrors of it. Partly desensitized, anyway.
The wolf howls in pleasure as he reaches his climaxes. Lammert can see him aiming for the thickest part of the crowd. The wolf's cum splashes down onto them, miring some unfortunate souls to the ground. Lammert recognizes the trapped mouse nearest to him. He was one of the ones Lammert talked to last night. "What's his name," Lammert wonders. "Vance? Valerian?" Lammert really doesn't make much effort to remember their names anymore.
The wolf leans against the side, panting. He examines his handwork - the obviously dead mice he was using to pleasure himself, and the mass of living mice in the center of the tub, some of whom are trapped in his juices. He pops the dead ones into his mouth and swallows. "I love bobbing for mice!"
Lammert sees the wolf close his eyes and lower his snout to the tub floor, sniffing. He homes right in on a trapped mouse. She is flailing desperately, trying to free herself, to no avail. The wolf tongue slips out from between the lips, gets under her, and flips her up between the wolf's lips. She's barely hit his tongue before he swallows. Lammert can see the twitching bulge through the wolf's throat, disappearing into his chest. The wolf moves right on to another trapped mouse and swallows him too. He continues doing with each of the trapped mice.
Soon all the trapped mice are gone save one - the one Lammert met yesterday. Lammert finally recalls his name - Valdis. A woman, probably his wife, is standing nearby trying to reach him, but several other mice are holding her back. They know if she runs to him, she'll just be more fodder for the wolf.
The wolf stoops down over the mouse. His tongue flips the mouse into his snout, and he closes his lips. The mouse's tail is still protruding from between the wolf lips, thrashing helplessly. It would be comical if it weren't so terrible. The wolf grins at the rest of us, then swallows. The mouse tail disappears between the wolf lips, and then he's gone.
The wolf, apparently having sated all his hungers, ambles off without another word.
Valdis screams in pain and frustration. In the darkness, he claws at the stomach wall, but succeeds only in getting stomach acids under his claws, adding to his torment. The fur on his lower body has begun to slough off.
He hasn't heard any of the others cry out in a while. Are they all dead?
The air is thin and acrid, and Valdis is having trouble breathing. His head begins to spin. His legs give out, and he falls back, barely noticing the fresh stabs of pain as acids begin burning heretofore unhurt skin on his upper body. He can hear wolf's heart beating. He finds it oddly soothing.
Valdis gives a final shudder and mercifully passes out. The wolf's digestive system churns on, converting the mouse into a nourishing soup for the wolf.
It's been a few hours since this morning's events. Valdis's death has hit Kyrie hard. They hadn't been married long, but she was deeply devoted to him. She's spent almost every minute since this morning replaying the terrible events in her mind's eye. A boiling anger, which began yesterday with the destruction of their village, has been building all afternoon. Now it's reaching fever pitch, and she needs an outlet for it.
She scans the crowd, looking for that one mouse - the one the wolves keep as a pet. She quickly picks him out, sitting alone near a group of elderly mice. She walks straight towards him. She approaches him from behind, and he doesn't see her coming.
When she's about a body-length from him, she hurls herself at him. They collide, and both hit the ground hard. She's on him in a second, pounding on him with both front paws and her tail, all the while screaming incoherently.
Lammert is lost in his own thoughts when she attacks. She catches him totally off guard as she slams her body into his. He's already seeing stars when she jumps on top of him, flailing at him in furry, bruising his snout and chest.
He's saved when several other mice from the crowd drag her off of him. She fights them every step of the way, desperately trying to lunge at at him.
Lammert sighs, turns his back on her, and walks away. Though he aches from her beating, he understands what's motivating her. He makes a mental note to talk to her when she's had a chance to cool off.
Lammert's thoughts are interrupted as he hears a wolf entering the cave...