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Lagwolf
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Welcome to Pack (non-mythos)

Post by Lagwolf »

Herbert wasn’t looking for problems when he stumbled into this one. He was walking home from his last day as a researcher in Parliament. An hour before he had walked into his boss's office and proceeded to get himself fired. He was fired for finding out something that was common knowledge all over the House of Commons. One of the worst kept secrets in all of Westminster. That is, assuming you are fool enough to believe there are any secrets in Westminster in the first place.

 The researcher was attempting to get final approval for a report he was writing for his MP boss on the danger of global warming to agriculture in the North. The MP was the shadow Agriculture minister, but none too pleased about it. The MP was just that aggressively ambitious to take the back-water job. The MP took it all in that he was being watched for advancement, so he took the job with its muddy brief, hired the best researchers he could find, and got on with it. Herbert was just one of those researchers who had only taken the job because it paid very well and was a stepping stone to better things. Herbert never liked Richard Peuty MP, knowing full well what kind of grotesque man he was, but decided to grin and bear it for his future. Herbert even lost some of his friends and acquaintances because of it.  Richard was pro-Euro, and Herbert’s friends weren’t, simple as that. When it came to European ambition and good old capitalistic traits, instinct didn’t count. Herbert was a traitor to the cause, full stop.

 It was with this background that Herbert walked into his boss’ office to find “Dick” buggering a fellow researcher senseless while looking out over a view of the Thames. Herbert was shocked, even though in retrospect he shouldn’t have been, and to make matters worse he dropped the file with his report on the floor, further calling attention to his mistake. 

 “Dick” calmly turned in mid-thrust, glared at Herbert and fired him on the spot.

 “Herbert get the fuck out of my office, and don’t ever come back!  And if you tell anyone about this you will never work in Westminster again! Now get OUT!”, grunted the balding overweight MP and then turned back to the matters in hand. 

Herbert’s two colleagues in the outer room said nothing to him as he packed up his things and left. They never even gave him a second glance as he walked out the door.

 

After Herbert walked out of Portcullis House he headed straight to Marquess of Granby, knowing full well it would be bereft of anyone but a few tourists at that time on a Tuesday afternoon. In the Marquess he downed his last few pints as a regular and thought on his future.

 

“Well I will get the blame for all the rumours now. That fat-arse will blackball me from now until the next election. Damnit!”  He downed his pint and waited until some of the others showed up to have an after-work pint. “How long before someone says something about me!”

 

He didn’t have to wait long for a tall and lanky besuited PA to walk and see him. “Herbert! I heard you got sacked by that poof of a boss of yours. Bad luck old boy. Seems to think you were spreading the rumours that he was a major shirt-lifter. “  He paused to take his gin and tonic and pay for it. “Fuck, under that definition there would be no staff left in Portcullis House! Does suck that you are getting the blame though. “

 

“Er thanks Jeremy, he was wanker anyway. Actually I…” Herbert decided to keep mum about what he saw.  Herbert hung around the pub for a few hours graciously taking the thoughts of others, whether genuine or not.  It was a nice spring evening, so he decided to walk home. He was almost to his flat in Pimlico when he say the open door to a garden square slightly open. Normally he would have walked right past and no shown any attention to the open gate. The combination of his current “fuck everyone” strop and the beer seemed to force him to take a peek inside.

 

These green clad oases in the middle of London were normally for the use of the residents of the surrounding houses. Many of them contained tennis courts, crocket pitches or even sunken gardens. What the gardens all shared in common was a high fence to prohibit nosy nellies.

 

At first Herbert just peeked in the door. He planned to plead American ignorance if he were caught and affect an accent in order to apologise.  After a few seconds in this entrance to the forbidden world he moved farther in because a large tree was blocking his view of garden beyond.  He barely noticed that he closed the gate behind himself.

 

It was staring around edge of this tree, like a schoolboy playing hide and seek, that Herbert met his queer fate. What he saw that day placed him in the position he was now in, about to marry a woman who was only partly human, about to be inducted into a pack of wolves in central London. Werewolves, that is.

 

What he saw as he peered around that tree was so striking that the former researcher fell over onto his face, pitching himself flat on the grass in front of the figure before him.

 

“Oh hello? Who are you, then?”

 

Herbert was still face planted in the grass when he heard to question.

 

“Will you get up from there? You look daft prostrate in front of me on the grass like that. It won't help you anyway. Now get up and face me!”

 

He did as was told, attempting to brush off the grass from the front of his suit as he stood erect. He shook his head, certain that what he thought he saw was not possibly there.

 

“Oh come on, you just snuck into a private garden, isn’t it a bit late to go all shy now?”

 

Well, one thing was sure, it was a woman that he was watching before he tripped. “Well, ah I am sorry…” He speech and fake American accent was suddenly cut off when he saw what was before him. For standing on the grass was a 6 foot tall woman. She at first appeared to be as naked as thought staring round the tree. Until he noticed there were none of the familiar features of a nude woman, no nipples and no belly button. Instead the obviously female whatever it was, was covered in a fine yellowish dirty blond hair.

 

“I bet you are! Didn’t mater ever tell you not to go peeking into places you don’t belong?” She said with a mocking ott toff accent.

 

It was as the figure before him spoke that he noticed that her mouth contained a full set of dog like incisors, upper and lower.  The hand that was on her hip ended in rather nasty-looking claws. “You interrupted me in my exercises, and I have lost count, argh. I should kill you for this!”

 

“Um, oh please don’t, I didn’t see a thing really.” A bit of terror filled his voice and he struggled to comprehend just what was happening.

 

“ Well I wont be able to do it right now anyway, you’re screaming might get at least some attention. Why don’t you sit down on that bench over there and see if you can talk your way out of this? It will at least be rather amusing to watch you squirm.”

 

“Thanks. I will try!” He managed before he sat down.

 

“Just please don’t go all whiney on me, I just so hate that. Who knows, I might actually keep you if your brain is not as much of a klutz as you were over by that tree.” 

 

“Keep me, what the hell does she mean by that? Am I to be a slave? In London?” He thoughts raced, fortunately the scare was enough to sober him up. His mind rushed to remember his debating skills.

 

“Well go on, then, why should I not wait till dark and tear your head off? I am listening” She sat down in front of him on the ground in a cross legged position and began to stretch.

 

“Well I just got sacked from my job, and I was walking home when I came across the open gate. I know…”

 

“Wait, a minute tell me the whole story from the beginning, might as well start with your CV. I need to know all about you, you may look halfway decent but I need more than looks before I can decide to keep you. “

 

Herbert, puzzled by what he was hearing, replied in a tight voice, “Alright then.”

 

“Oh wait, what a useless host I am. Would you like a can of something? There is a cooler behind you over there, get yourself something to drink while you tell your tale.”

 

Herbert rose and did as was told, bringing the half empty bottle of water back to his “host”, suspecting it was hers.

 

“Oh thank you...how kind. Well at least it shows you have some good breeding. Do go on.”

 

He did as he was told, and he spoke until the sun was almost totally obscured by the buildings surrounding the square. His host steadily moved closer to him as he told his tale, until she sat beside him on the bench. She never once looked like she meant to mock, and managed to at least appear in rapt attention as he prattled on about his life. Normally not one to go into much detail about his past, he found the imminent threat of death more than enough to overcome his humility.

 

It was as the sun finally disappeared and the light started to wane that she first took his hand hers.  She held it and patted the hair on the back with her fur covered hand. To Herbert it felt oddly reassuring.

 

As the street light came on around him, she finally spoke. ‘I think  I WILL keep you Herbert, you will do fine. Now why don’t you run along home? You need to come back here on Friday night at 9pm sharp so I can introduce you round. Ok?”

 

He shock his head yes and got up to leave, not for a minute doubting he would be back on Friday night.

 

The rest of the week went by quickly, even though he was not used to staying home in his flat all day. The fallout from his job didn’t last long; it was a story in the diary columns for one day. On Thursday a government minister had saved him by managing to get caught “cottaging” on Clapham Common. He hadn’t received any of the propping questions from budding young Evening Standard wonks trying to dig the juiciest tidbit out of him.  The Mail hadn’t called and offered him a bridge to rat out his former boss. Herbert Riddings just dropped off the face of Westminster, just like that. By Thursday evening he was frustrated at this rapid fall from grace; while polishing off a bottle of plonk he seriously considered calling his old media contacts to “set things straight.” Herbert never got round to it, his flatmate found him passed out and drooling on a sitting room chair at 10 and sent him off to bed.

 

It wasn't until about noon that Herbert realised what he was suppose to do on Friday. After picking up a copy of the Evening Standard and some lunch, Herbert returned to his room and contemplated his future. While he sat on the couch watching afternoon telly and drinking tea he pondered his appointment in the garden square at nine. His mind wandered between being a doubting Thomas that thought himself to be a fool and a genuinely intrigued dreamer who was game for it.

 

Not knowing if he would be fed or not, the young man ate dinner at the local pub and walked over to the square for 9 pm. “What if this is a colossal joke and I am playing the prat? Am I making a fool of myself or about to get myself killed? Oh fuck it, got nothing to lose!” He pushed the gate open and trod into the dimly lit garden; he barely even noticed that the gate was unlocked. At first there seemed to be no one about, just an empty garden gently lit by the street lamps above and behind the towering sides of the garden.

 

“Ah, there you are, Herbert. I am pleased you decided to come!” She paused, ‘it would have been such a pain if I were forced to track you down and kill you. Even for someone like me, it can be a lot of bother. “ She walked over to the new arrival and placed her fur covered hand on his shoulder. “I am so sorry. How rude of me! That is no way to talk to my future mate.”

 

Herbert was still in a daze and barely noticed what the female was saying to him.

 

“Here, come with me to the garden grotto, I must introduce you round to the rest of the pack. They are all keen to meet you, we so rarely get new members. “

 

Herbert followed his hostess into the covered area at the far end of the garden, a place he never realised was there. Under the greenery awning there was an empty space, with a circular iron bench around its exterior. There were a few backpacks and clothes piles on the bench, but none of the figures in the room sat upon it.

 

“Everyone, let me introduce you to my new mate. Herbert! He may not look like the normal male we like, but he has the brains and guile which will prove very useful to us. I am actually glad the silly sod stumbled into our lair. Haha”

 

Herbert did not move a muscle as he looked at those gathered before him. He was relieved to see that he was not the only “hairless ape” in the group. A petite woman was standing at the far side, near a equally petite beast on two legs, with pointy ears and a slight slouch. Around him were a collection of what could only be called “wolves on two legs”. As with a pack of dogs, they came in all colours and hues. The most striking was a brunette all over, who towered over most of the rest of the pack. The 6 foot tall female glared at the new arrival, looking down on him as though inspecting him.

 

“There will be plenty of time for intros later. Let's get on with this, it has been a long time since I mated properly with anyone.”

 

“Properly?” Herbert said to himself, “ what does she mean by that?”

 

“Petra, I believe its your job as my number two to do the honours. Try not to look or act too miffed with me, at least for the length of the ceremony. And make sure you don’t kill him, when you scar him, after all, should something happen to me, he is all yours.” The blonde werewolf glared at her taller pack-mate, showing the slightest bit of teeth to emphasise her point.

 

“Let's just hope your pups aren't too nasty to you on their way out.” She walked to the end of the rich grass-floored room and turned to face the pack.

 

Herbert said nothing as he followed his “mate” to stand in front of the towering wolf. He swallowed hard, not really ready for he was about to endure.

 

“We gather here, pack, to see our alpha take a new mate! I have the pleasure of joining him to our little cabal.” She paused. “Does anyone here happened to know anything that would make this man unsuitable for this purpose? Speak now or hold your tongue!”

 

There was almost silence, the only thing Herbert heard was the beating of his heart in anticipation and terror.

 

“Herbert this is your one chance to get out of this. You may choose between a quick death and a permanent life with the pack. The only way out is to die; you do understand this, boy?”

 

“Uh, yeah, I understand…” Herbert managed as he began to worry about his immediate future.

 

“Well then, let's get on with it.”  Petra opened her front paw and took the silver chain from her hand with the other paw. At the end of the chain was a plain ankh, shimmering in the street lamp light. Petra placed it over Herbert’s head and tucked it into the front of his shirt. 

 

“Herbert, turn around and pull your shirt up over you midriff. You might want to clench your teeth a bit as well. Heh.” She snickered as she watched the man before her turn and lift his shirt. His hands shook a little as he held his shirt as high as he could.

 

“Petra, you hurt him badly and I will kill you where you stand, bitch,” snarled Herbert’s mate.

 

He laughed, realising that the werewolves and ghetto-speak shared a few phrases in common. He was laughing when he felt the claw tear into the flesh on his back. He swallowed his laugh and managed not to cry out. The pain and shock hit him like a wave.

 

“Herbert, here comes the fun part. Keep holding that shirt up!” The blonde werewolf lowered her head and began using her long tongue to lap the wound. She felt her mate flinch each time her tongue flicked the torn skin.  The blood tasted salty on her tongue as she cleaned the wound and sealed it with her saliva.

 

“Well, Herbert, you and Fidra now are mates. We'd best be off now, as you two have a lot of catching up to do.” Petra turned to Fidra who was still lapping away. “Now Fidra, try not to howl too loud and wake the neighbors; we don’t want Westminster Animal Control around here again. “

 

Herbert smiled and winced as he watched the pack grab their belongings and head out of the roofless room.

 

His mate finally finished her work and lifted her fluffy head up straight. “ That should do it; I think it will heal nicely. “

 

“Um, thank you. Does this mean we’re married?” Herbert asked in a vain attempt at intelligent conversation.

 

“Yes, you sod! Now how about you get to work on your duties. This is the good part of being mates…the MATING!”

 

Herbert never got to say a word as he was pulled down onto ground and felt his clothes being torn off his body.

 
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decadence
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Post by decadence »

Hey Al, Hall of Fame this one! :D
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Lagwolf
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Post by Lagwolf »

:P
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Aleister
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Post by Aleister »

I am certainly going to read this.. just not right now :P

I will post back!
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