Every year, Valentine's Day reminds me why I'm a Lone Wolf. If you think humans go over the top with their love, you should celebrate it with a pack of Wolves who believe in Soulmates and have no boundaries or shame. It's fluids, all week: tears and lube.
Thankfully, I'd left Wolf Territory so the day I met Hot Cop I was spending Cupid's birthday with my human colleagues: five cops whose names I always mix up because even though they're physically different, their personalities are identical. It's not them, it's me not giving a shit.
Where I'm from, soldiers look a lot alike each other, you recognize one by what he likes to do and how good he is at it.
I'm the Wolf who needs to be left alone to repeat everything until he's calm again. They call me Echo.
Humans call me Echo Wolf because they need a last name. All Wolves share mine, we only need it when interacting with outsiders. Like a big fucking family of three thousand.
So I work with humans now. For humans, if I understand police work correctly. I don't think I do.
The guys decided we were all going to watch a game, our big 'fuck you' to the celebration of love. I was there because Captain told me I needed to socialize more and as you can see I take my superiors' orders very seriously. We'd reached peak symbiosis in the precinct: they tolerated my silence, accepting I'm not from around, and in return I never told them how dumb they were.
For example, I let Scarecrow Cop waltz the new cop in, showing the rest of us off as if we were his underlings. I would've been more upset if it weren't obvious he wasn't going to get into her pants.
Hot Cop was smiling politely, aware she got herself invited that night because she was pretty and single and secretly some of the guys were hoping to maybe score a desperation bang. Leader of the pussy chasing platoon was Scarecrow -- I call him that because of his stringy hair, unsuitable for an adult.
He means well: he told us he wanted to ask her out but didn't want to make her uncomfortable at work so he invited her at his house to watch the game. No pressure and shit. Just like one of the guys, and boy did she try to fit into that role: generic loose t-shirt, jeans, subtle make up. Hair in a bun, cause she's so down to earth. She hated our fucking guts, but like me she had to socialize: she was new, desperate to fit in. One of the only two women on our shift, it's not like she could've hung out with better co-workers. Until that night, we'd never crossed paths.
The jokes were worst than usual. Gang rape would've been more honest.
Scarecrow somehow failed to notice the obvious disinterest emanating from our new colleague and went to bring her a beer because of course she drank beer.
She was -- still is -- a pretty girl: symmetrical face and thick dark hair, but I'm not really a guy who likes charades. What makes a hole pretty to me is it being a hole I can fill. Hot Cop was off limits so her beauty was irrelevant, it was best not to dwell.
I was just about to call it a night when I heard her invoke me with three sentences.
"I'm never going to have children."
Not sure who asked her, but it appears there had been some conversations about life goals. Valentine's always forces people to explain their love life to strangers.
"Best I can ever do is adoption," she was telling Scarecrow who roamed through the fridge to find the perfect can for her. "It's not even the birth which is bad enough, I just keep thinking about them sucking and I..." She crossed her arms over her chest, "Ew."
There was an awkward silence which she tried to fill, "What? I hate the feeling! I bet you guys talk about your dicks all the time. I bring up nipple sensitivity and suddenly you're all quiet?"
It was true, so they laughed. Scarecrow was back on time to save her, "We're not great with women stuff. It's why it's good to have you on our squad."
She smiled but pulled away from him as he sat too close to her on the couch. More drinks were needed, I decided.
"Who wants another beer?"
I didn't wait for a reply, I'd bring seven. I had to ply Hot Cop with alcohol because suddenly the two of us had business together.
The issue with us Wolves? We fixate. On things, on memories, on feelings. Especially on people. I know myself well enough to fly under the human radar because I listen to what I want and then I do it. Otherwise I get hung up. And before I know it, I'm a Wild Wolf. Trust me, Hot Cop was better off if I didn't let "chance drugging and sexual assault" bubble up inside of me, especially when it could so easily burst into "premeditated kidnapping and sexual torture in the woods".
It's the source of all of our Soulmate nonsense, so I'm paying attention: what exactly makes me tick and why? I know that denying my Wolf urges will lead me on a single-minded road to nowhere. I know I like to torture women in bed so whenever I get a tingle... I remind myself that wanting someone is never about them, it's about what your body could do to their body. It's not even about you.
I immediately accepted about myself that I'm gonna need to be the guy who brings Hot Cop's nightmare to life. It was the only way I could move on from her. It wasn't about her, it was about what she'd said. It planted a seed inside of me that I needed to make sure didn't grow on me like a tumor.
Like I said, Valentine's Day is a sensitive time for us Wolves. We start howling at the moon before January is even done. The only other human holiday we care about is Halloween because it starts our very own month-long carnaval. Yeah, that's our winter: we wear masks all through December, party in elaborate porny costumes we design ourselves, then proceed into a series of escalating orgies that peak in the middle of February. Then it's Spring Break at the Oasis. Then it's our summer pools and our only lake. In autumn we start thinking about how to coordinate costumes. The annual circle of life.
I'm not really a costume kind of Wolf so it was obvious I had to leave the Territory.
Every time I want to do something, however small -- like making my new target uncomfortable -- I need to do it, otherwise it's all I'll think about. Dumber Wolves take these obsessional thoughts as symbols of their undying love for their soulmate but I know exactly what they are: sex fantasies. I don't need to connect them to anyone in particular. They just need to be fulfilled.
Unfortunately, my bulletproof reasoning encountered a fresh mental wall: I could take Hot Cop any day I wanted if I planned it properly, but could I do it in a house full of cops, ad-hoc? The moment the idea entered my brain, I knew it was how it needed to be done.
It's the curse and joy of being me: challenges get automatically accepted. It's the Wolf Way.
I touched the Red Fog in my pocket, it's a harmless aphrodisiac we make back home. I always carry what we call The Red Eye Dose. Causes paralysis in multiple key areas: limbs get weak, eyes can't be opened, words and images don't make sense.
I normally wouldn't use it in my games because it spoils the fun -- I prefer conscious opposition -- but it presented a great advantage that night: when under The Red Fog, a victim is unable to scream or bite. Less hassle for me, the only problem was that I really liked hassle.
Since I didn't start with a proper plan and rape just happened to enter my schedule I had to work the room, so to speak: decide what's the maximum I can do in that situation without letting myself get caught. I already knew the minimum I needed to do, she'd told me that herself. It's a balance that is made difficult to preserve by me being a Wolf: human ethics is irrelevant to me. Its laws are hindering but could never stop me, just like someone else's feelings can't.
Hot Cop was out of her element and therefore drank too much, then left Scarecrow's blue balls on the couch because she "needed a second to lie down". He wasn't too upset, he'd been on about the game and finally he could get back to it. She wasn't leaving his house so maybe he could get to her in the morning. Make her coffee, tell her all about how he didn't finger her when she was drunk.
She went into the bedroom where we'd left our jackets. I'd only peaked through its door a few months before, on another tedious get-together, but it was good practice to check what I could remember so I visualized it again: a bed, a couch, three walls of bookcases, although I bet Scarecrow only watches TV.
Don't get me wrong, I also don't read or anything but at least I don't own shelves of objects I'll never use. All my possessions are on me, what makes them priceless is how expendable they are. Like a Lego set, they can do so much together.
For Hot Cop I got zip ties, duct tape, various drugs, that sawdust cream we make, a gag that can keep her silent and make her teeth unusable at the same time, also made by Wolves. It's not legal on human lands, but to us it's like a fork: a common tool. To use it for rape is a personal choice.
I usually decide on the spot what I'm going to do to a hole, it depends on the environment and my mood. I always carry all the tools I need, to us Wolves that's an EDC kit. I try not to leave traces, but it's never a guarantee with me. If I feel like being sloppy, I'll do that instead. I allow myself to, it makes all the rules I don't break worth following.
I usually plan my fantasies so well that I don't even need to execute them. That night, I was looking for a glitch. That line of thinking is particularly problematic for my inner wiring, it makes me want to invite trouble. I need to keep myself out of jail, locked in a room is where I'll definitely snap.
I'm Echo, the Wolf who hates the full moon because it doesn't have a pair. And it was Valentine's Day: I'd already snapped.
If I played my part correctly no one would ever know it was me because she'd never press charges, she'd be too humiliated to describe it, she'd never know which one of us did it to her. When played excellently, it will result in all of the above, scarring her forever.
