tagFetishThe Blood Elf and the Timber Wolf

The Blood Elf and the Timber Wolf


This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.


Orgrimmar, the capital city of the Horde in Kalimdor, teemed with sweating, grunting life. Some would call it an undignified existence to reside in crude shacks, let alone the goblin slums, but it was home to orcs and all that served the Horde if business kept them at the capital between advances of war. The more decrepit areas stank, narrow streets coated with animal and humanoid filth, though some areas boasted a more habitable atmosphere - it depended on one's origination and race. The Valley of Honour was cleanlier than most; however, the young blood elf, Heta, wrinkled her nose in disdain. It was too clustered and crowded for a blood elf and the mix of races sent chills up her spine. She gave the Pandarean group set beside the portal a particularly wide berth, stance unconsciously defensive. She still did not know what to make of a race divided between Horde and Alliance. It was unnatural.

Heta was in Orgrimmar for one simple reason: she required a mount to progress on her journey since she had gained sufficient experience with her Paladin tools in hand. An orc glanced distrustfully at her cat-like eyes, which glowed green like emeralds, and continued on his way, tightening a hand around his short sword, suspicion riddling his gaze. Trust was hard won within the Horde. Swallowing a sigh, Heta scraped her blonde locks back in a high pony tail, revealing the bare, pale curve of her neck. Her crimson lips fluttered into a smile, feeling every inch of her body bend with a blood elf's characteristic, supple walk. She thought herself to be a most elegant being with her long, pointed ears and slender frame, beauty surpassing that of any female orc or tauren - goblins were nothing in comparison. Trolls unnerved her, so she passed no comment on their appeal.

Weapons sheathed, Heta grumbled under her breath and broke into a light jog, springing up the curved path that led to the mount and pet stable, or what passed for a stable within the bounds of Orgrimmar. One of the city guards had assured her that the stable was the prime location to purchase a fine riding wolf, which was ideal for any adventurer. Heta had heard that the orcs captured Dire wolves for their mounts - a hardy and resolute breed that would surpass expectations over the worst terrain. She was confident that she had enough gold in her bag to purchase a wolf and leather riding gear, earned through the blood of battle. Of course, a blood elf must only possess the best equipment.

The stables were unlike those that Heta had previously experienced for horses and the traditional riding mounts of blood elves, Hawkstriders. Whereas Hawkstriders bedded down in deep nests of straw and their vibrant feathers carefully tended to with silk and oils, the wolves were penned up in a circular enclosure, under the cover of a leaking roof. They growled amongst themselves, gnawing on bones and bullying one another for the choicest scarps of meat from the feeding troughs. The wolf handler, known as Ogunaro Wolfrunner, tussled with an adolescent black wolf that snarled as it wrestled a strip of rawhide from his scarred, green hands.

"Ogunaro Wolfrunner," Heta called out, voice crisp and clear in the morning air. "I have a matter of business to discuss with you."

Frowning, the orc stood tall and tossed the leather strip away, muttering under his breath as the half-grown wolf pounced on it, the toy swiftly disappearing down its throat. Licking its lips, the wolf bounded up to Heta, bowing its forelegs on the ground and wagging its tail: let's play! Heta permitted herself a small smile - no teeth - and reached out a hand to pat the wolf's head.

"Zug-zug," the orc shook his head in warning, tusks grey in the dim light. "I would not chance to do that, blood elf. You do not know our wolves."

Heta gritted her teeth and slowly withdrew her arm, looking the wolf handler up and down with a critical eye; he was nothing much to speak of as far as muscled physique and vain appearance went by. She by far preferred blood elf partners to warm her bed, not odorous orcs with ragged beards and red eyes. Disappointed at the lack of attention, the wolf's tail drooped and he slunk off to harry an older member of the pack, interaction forgotten.

"I am here to a purchase one of your wolves," she said loftily. If she had had less class, her nose would have been in the air. "I trust that you are competent enough to view my capabilities and experience."

"I see your experience in how you hold yourself, blood elf," Ogunaro narrowed his scarlet eyes, grisly face twisting. "But you are neither an orc or exalted with Orgrimmar. I will not sell my wolves to you unless you increase your standing with us."

"That's preposterous!" Heta seethed. "How dare you refuse my gold!"

"Do not try me, blood elf. I will only sell my wolves to those that are exalted with Orgrimmar and the orcs," Ogunaro repeated, crossing his arms across his heavily muscled, bare chest. "Leave now, or I will set my wolves on you."

Suspect to the tone of their master's voice, three wolves lifted their heads, ears pricked in anticipation. One let loose a low, rumbling growl and Heta backtracked at a pace, tripping over her boots in anxious haste. How could she defend herself if Ogunaro set all of his wolves on her at once? Combined with the distrustful orcs, Heta knew that she did not stand a chance alone. Humiliated, she turned on her heel and stalked from the stables, ears trained for the deathly sound of wolf pads on hard packed dirt. The orc guffawed, wiping away spittle with the back of his hand.

"May I suggest you try the wind rider master?" Ogunaro shouted after her, mocking her departure. "He will be more than happy to send you away on the back of one of his charges. Farewell!"

Choosing not to honour him - or degrade herself - with an answer, Heta pursed her lips. There had to be another way for her to acquire a mount, a good mount. She did not have enough gold for a wind rider fare back to Silvermoon City and for a Hawkstrider, which she could acquire with gold alone, being a blood elf. She could continue questing in exchange for experience and gold but she desperately wanted the status of a mount; a wolf would put her above others in the field and allow her to progress with greater speed. Heta inclined her head just a fraction, acknowledging her unspoken next step. She could not leave Orgrimmar without a wolf.

Extreme measures would have to be taken.


Under the guise of darkness, Heta crept to the stables, wary of every stray orc on the streets. Many were at the various inns and brothels, sating their lust whether they were male or female. Wrinkling her nose, Heta compressed the urge to spit on the ground, a foul taste coating the interior of her mouth at the thought of such copulation: it turned her stomach. No, she was far better off concluding her business in Orgrimmar and then making for the wilds and Stonetalon Mountains as quickly as her wolf would carry her. In her heart, she briefly regretted declining the opportunity to become a Rogue as stealth would be useful when taking a wolf against an orc's will.

The unpaved streets made for perfect footing as she padded silently up the hill to the stables, boots wrapped in strips of dirty linen so that they would not make a sound. Heta held her breath, fearing that an orc would be waiting for her at every turn or, ancestors forbid, Ogunaro! She could not be seen. She only had to take a wolf and leave the city as if she owned it - no one would question her then. Heta paused at stable entrance, eyes following the path of two spiny lizards as they darted around the pet enclosure, surprisingly wakeful. Further inside, the wolves clustered together in a tight-knit pack, each furry mound gently rising and falling as the pack breathed. Gathering her confidence, Heta took a deep breath.

The closest wolf, fur greying with age, opened one sleepy eye and closed it again, used to the comings and goings of various humanoid figures. It was no matter to him that one of them happened by during the night. Heta slapped the leather wolf harness against her thigh and smiled when a brown wolf raised its head curiously.

"Who wants to go for a run?"

That gained more attention. Two more wolves, pricked up their ears, experienced beings that were eager to be in harness; they understood what a 'run' meant. Heta crouched and pointed at the ground, jingling the harness quietly, the sound musical. Two of the attentive wolves leapt up and raced to sit quietly at her feet, one grey and one of the distinct Timber wolf breed. The Timber wolf thumped his tail against the ground. Heta smirked, knowing the best when she saw it.

"Away," she commanded the superfluous wolf. Obediently, the grey wolf trotted back to his pack and flopped down amongst the furry bodies, a rumbling sigh escaping his narrower muzzle.

Studying the full grown wolf, Heta cautiously extended her hand. The wolf looked up but otherwise sat perfectly still, allowing her hand to smooth back the thick fur on its head. Its underbelly was a dark cream, blending perfectly into the coffee-tone body, which was perfectly built for strength and stamina. He was a specimen of stupendous breeding. The most intimidating factor of the wolf, however, was the terrifying fangs and powerful jaw, able to crush more than Heta cared to imagine. But this wolf was now hers.

Pleased with her find, Heta lifted the harness, preparing to fit it over the wolf's body. As if anticipating more than the leather straps, the wolf jumped to its feet and barked once, sniffing the air. The corners of the blood elf's mouth turned down.

"No, sit," Heta commanded, though her charge was preoccupied with scenting the air. She chanced that there was an evil glint in its intelligent eyes as it pounced, bowling her over backwards. Biting back a cry of pain and fear, Heta reached for her weapons, only stilling when the wolf's jaws pressed against her neck, trapped in an instant.

The duo froze, each breathing heavily. Heta clasped the hilt of her sword, but the wolf warned her off, closing his jaws a warning fraction. The wolf's body was heavy and uncomfortably hot above hers, the thick underbelly fur brushing her stomach and chest. Deliberately, it lifted a hind paw and brought it down over her ankle, further ensuring that she would not be able to evade it or use her weapons. Praying for a miracle, Heta charged a spell but the wolf, perhaps accustomed to magic use among its orcs, merely dug in its teeth until a trickle of blood ran down Heta's neck; she dropped the spell, heart beating like a wyvern's wings.

What a stupid way to die... Heta thought bitterly, closing her eyes. That bastard orc will laugh when he finds my body in the morning. If they don't eat every part of me, that is. There'll be a few bones and a bloodstain left.

To her surprise, the wolf did not seem so interested in feasting upon her flesh or at the very least ending her life. Once it deemed that she would not dare to move, it released her neck and raised its blocky muzzle, scenting the air. She clenched her hand into a tight fist, whole body trembling as if wracked by a sudden chill. What was that accursed wolf doing? In the dim light, she saw the other wolves rising, eyes bright as they clustered closer, a writhing mass of furry bodies and deceptively wagging tails. The wolf's snout bumped her leg and she stiffened, anticipating the end.

Instead of sinking his teeth into her flesh, he growled almost playfully and clasped the waist of her breeches between his teeth, pulling back like a puppy with a new toy. Yelping, Heta squirmed, breeches scuffing across the ground as he yanked, dragging her breeches a little further down, revealing the plain strip of white underwear - nothing fancy. The blood elf's face burned but when she tried to protect her dignity, the wolf's ears went back and he snarled threateningly, putting an end to that ill-considered attempt.

"No!" Heta hissed, hoping he would heed a command. "Get away, wolf! Stop!"

As if to egg him on, the other wolves snapped their jaws and yelped, the younger ones whirling in circles, restless with excitement. With a sickening rip, Heta's breeches gave up, rending down the crotch and half taking her underwear with them. The wolf howled - triumphantly? - and rough-housed them down to her knees, tongue rasping over her pale skin. Heta groaned, pressing her legs together, though she was abruptly corrected by a wolf growl that was rapidly becoming too familiar for comfort. As if pleased with her compliance, the brown wolf panted, tongue lolling from his muzzle, and stepped over her body, swamping her with his size.

Her eyes grew wide. Inch by inch, his tongue lapped up her legs, the wolf likely enjoying the naturally salty taste to her skin, slowly but surely directing himself towards her crotch. Heta paled. Just how intelligent were these wolves? Now that she saw them without the overbearing hand of an orc master, she was afraid of more dire consequences. The wolf nudged her panties and swiped his tongue across her sex, shooting her a warning look, if a wolf could do such a thing. The touch was electric. It had been so long... No, no, Heta shuddered back to reality. She could not think like that. But when had she last had another blood elf in bed with her? Many moons had since passed, though a wolf was no comparison to a blood elf. They were a pure race.

A paladin was always practical, however, and Heta held a dear claim to life after facing the turmoil of war, even if her experience left much to be desired. Every blood elf knew the dangers of the world and survival was required to change the ways and succeed over the Alliance. Her lips hardened into a thin line. She would not fail her race.

She hurled herself bodily to her feet, bowling through a line of startled wolves. Heta's eyes glowed a fierce green, the rush of battle boiling in her veins. One hand tore her breeches away, leaving her half-nude on the bottom section of her body, save her boots and underwear. The most persistent wolf, her Timber wolf, snarled threateningly, lips curling back from white fangs dripping with saliva. She met him eye for eye, something in her stance making him hesitate; that second of indecision was enough. In a frantic yet calculated bid for freedom, she gathered her strength and sprang into the air, her light frame soaring over the wolves in a glorious moment of near flight.

Escape was not to be had. All breath rushed out of her lungs as something heavy slammed into the small of the back, abruptly bringing her back to ground with an ungainly thump. Heta swore. Sure she had not exactly expected to escape so easily but she had thought she would make it closer to the stable door before recapture. With her breasts and stomach flat against the floor, the blood elf gasped for breath as her tormentor stood over her prone form, muzzle nudging her legs apart. He knew what he wanted and would take.

"No," Heta groaned, pinned to the dirt by a heavy forepaw. "Damn you, bastard."

She swore the wolf smirked.

Gasping, Heta writhed viciously, though it was no use - the animal was too heavy for her to shake. She trembled at the thought of what he wanted from her, evidenced by how his muzzle brushed against her round bottom, licking her through the fabric. Heta gritted her teeth, imagining herself somewhere else, perhaps with a blood elf arousing her with his tongue on her pussy. The wolf's teeth caught her panties and, with one, brutal tug, he ripped them clean off her. Howling, Heta clawed at the ground, fighting to close her spread thighs as the wolf barked, tail wagging furiously. He was enjoying it!

Dirt dug beneath her nails and Heta hissed between her teeth, ignoring the warning nips. Blood trickled down her rump, cold on her skin. She was no stranger to pain but this was more than pain: it was violation. Her face burned and the blood elf twisted like a snake, though her efforts were to no avail. Hair strewn wildly about her face, Heta gave up to the weight on her back, catching her breath as the wolf pressed down, panting with his muzzle half-open. Bastard.

She twisted her head to the side and balked, eyes going wide. Beneath the wolf's legs hung the biggest cock she had ever seen, pink with a smear of pre cum drooling lethargically from the tip. It was larger than any blood elf's member, that was for sure. She swallowed. What if he had a knot too? Did the Orc wolves have knots? She hoped not. The wolf snuffled over her skin, relaxing his hold, and lashed his tongue across her shamefully exposed cunt. Heta clenched her teeth, unwilling to submit to the pleasure. It was a sweet blast of electricity, the wolf's tongue dragging oh so sweetly over her clit. She shivered and tensed until her muscles shook with exertion. She would not enjoy the degradation.

The wolf did not care for her thoughts or what she felt. He was entirely focused on the tasty treat between her thighs, lapping and whining eagerly. His head snapped up only once and he snarled at a young, black wolf that had edged too close for comfort, sending the young one scampering behind the legs of its elders. He would not be denied. And, the more he licked, the more sweet juices he was rewarded with. Groaning, Heta ground her cheek into the ground as her legs unwillingly spread, disassociating herself from the mind-numbing sensation. The wolf's tongue swiped up over her anus, which tightened anxiously, and Heta bit back a cry. Her body betrayed her and she trembled with feminine pleasure, the scent of dirt and wolf stinking all around, all encompassing.

Abruptly, the wolf paused and Heta blinked rapidly. Was it over? Not so. Manoeuvring with an incredible degree of intelligence for a wolf, the animal shifted his paw to her shoulder blades, rested his weight heavily between then. His claws pricked the blood elf's skin, a clear warning in the crimson droplets. Moaning, Heta fell limp as the wolf shoved his muzzle beneath her belly, lifting her hips into position to a frenzied chorus of yips. On her knees now, Heta briefly sent a prayer to any listening ancestors that her breeches protected her lower legs and knees at least; she had to be grateful for small blessings. Snapping his jaws together, the wolf lurched away - the pressure on her shoulders suddenly, blissfully vanished - and barked as he mounted her raised arse.


Something warm with a slimy tip poked against the curve of her buttocks, the wolf thrusting frantically, front legs tucked around her hips to prevent escape. The wolf growled though, ignoring the warning, Heta writhed all the more furiously filling the air with a stream of expletives that she would have been ashamed to utter in the company of another blood elf. He was too heavy! She groaned as his rigid cock, playing testimony to the phrase of one being like a dog with a bone, slapped painfully against her buttocks, leaving sticky trails in its wake. Could a Timber wolf get a blood elf pregnant? Heta's blood ran cold. With the magic in her veins, her Paladin magic, she did not know. But she had heard stories, terrible stories. Digging her fingers into the dirt, she half-lurched forward, dragging the wolf with her through sheer force of will, but it was then that the cock speared into her depths: the wolf howled.

Tensing every muscle in her body, Heta curled in on herself, biting her lower lip until a bead of blood trickled down her chin. The pain was bearable, something a Paladin was used to in the throes of battle and glory. There was no glory in being fucked by a wolf. What blood elf would want her now? Grunting in apparent satisfaction, the wolf thrust his hips, slamming deeper into her tight depths, hardly tainted. Hair that was damp with sweat clung to the back of her neck, mingling with the blood from the earlier bite, which she could not even heal for fear of the wolf causing more damage. The rod of dog-flesh spread her cunt wider than ever before for, after all, he was an animal, not an elf. Cheeks burning with shame, Heta dug her hands into her hair, half-tearing it from her scalp in fearful frustration. With the rigid cock dug deep into her feminine folds, she had never felt so degraded.

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byAmethystMare© 1 comments/ 15956 views/ 26 favorites

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