>You are Anon, and you are about to shit your pants
>Not because you actually need to shit, but because you’ve never had to run this far and this fast before
>Every foot you place haphazardly and in front of the other sparks sheer chest-driving agony
>After Stella took off after Sam, you tried to find an alternate route to get back outside the school
>All you heard was the sound of wolves
>And man
>You had a guess what that meant
>See, with all the dumb, edgy, Twilight-tier shit happening at school right now (including witches, Eldritch horrors and vampire cheerleaders), the feral howl of wolves could only signal one thing to your sleep-deprived mind:
>Werewolves
>And then you heard Stella go down hard and fast, like a fat Santa Claus plummeting down your stairs at the tender yet inquisitive age of 9, followed by a few less-than-jolly expletives
>Who those screams belonged to, you couldn’t tell. You just kept running, those shrieking whimpers echoing off the empty walls of the school and chasing at your heels
>And now here you are, feet churning under you, throwing paranoid glances over your shoulder
>They’re not cowardly glances, and this isn’t a cowardly flight
>Cowardice would be hiding somewhere, ignoring your mission
>Your mission?
>To find Sam and get the hell out of here
>That mission is drastically accelerated when you hear a howl rip through the school
>Maybe a wolf student got to school earlier than you expected, and it’s not actually werewolves?
>But then you hear another howl
>And another
>And they’re just down the hall
>You throw another glance over your shoulder
>Three hulking masses are closing the distance behind you in a matter of seconds
>Oh fuck
>Bulky werewolves, rippling with shreds of clothing and corded muscle bear down on you, their fur dark as night, eyes bright as blue sapphire, are scrambling down the hallways after you
>Fucking just…
>Perfect
>You dig into your flimsy, un-athletic body and beg of it just a few seconds more of cardiovascular agony
>You are granted your wish (not without protest) and your pace quickens
>You know this is all in vain
>They’re going to catch up to you and feast upon your innards
>If you were Mike you might try to slow down and fight them
>Or, if you were Alex, you might try to befriend them and lead them on the path towards glorious revolution
>But you’re Anon, and you’re running, and…
>You have no plan, other than to keep running
>Times like these you wish you were born a cheetah, or a rabbit like Sam, then maybe you’d stand a chance at survival
>What are humans good for anyway?
>Thinking and cooperating?
>Fat load of help that’ll do you
>All alone, you’re wolf food for the apex predators of the school
>You dash around a corner, shoes squealing and streaking across the polished floors
>The werewolves, being… well, fucking huge, and less dexterous than you, slide past like a bunch of drunken ice skaters, tripping and tumbling over one another, their mouths wet with frothing madness
>And alone, at the end of the hallway, like a little brown smudge against the auburn of the lockers, you see Sam in his hoodie and baggy jeans
>And at his feet
>The venus fly trap
>That cotton-tailed faggot actually did it
>You open mouth, a smile contending with your desire to scream
”SAM!” A yell bellows from your lower stomach, and it rings with impressive clarity and volume
>You think you might be a good singer if you live through any of this
>Sam looks down the hall at you
”SAM! RUN!” You say, not so much commanding as you are pleading
>”A-Anon?” He jumps to his feet
”JUST RUN, THUMPER!”
>That time you were commanding with your voice, and you’re not sorry for even a second
>That rabbit, that little fucking bunny who you hated so much in the past, scoops up the venus fly trap and pounds down the hallway without a moment of hesitation
>You guess he is good for some things, namely running away
>You can only hope he finds the door and gets the fuck out of the school before the wolves do…
>And they are so close now
>So close you can smell the wet dog on them
>One of them reaches for your legs with its heavy, dumb hands (though appropriately decorated with razor-sharp claws)
>These lads must have been footballers, because DAMN they thicc
>In a quick blur of motion you move to the right — just enough so that the werewolf grabs onto empty space…
>…And it trips, having lost its footing
>That’s one down — for now
>Just two more to go
>No problem right?
>Problem
>A maniacal shriek forces you and the wolves to a halt
>What is this, a cartoon?
>”Oh my GOD. You glow-in-the-dark, CIA niggers! Thought you could sick your Russian bio-wolves on me, didn’t you? Thought you’d get away with my power crystals?!”
>That voice sounds like it’s coming from all directions
>But especially…
>Above you?
>”Well you’re in the jungle now, human. I can smell the ZOG on you.”
>Oh fucking god damnit
>It’s this crazy bitch again
>Stella explodes from the ceiling, her face sufficiently painted in strange, spiraling patterns, dropping like a sack of wet concrete, her arms spread wide, claws glistening in the pale light
>Streams of froth seethe out of her shivering mouth as she descends upon her target like the world’s shittiest spider
>She lands ungracefully behind the wolves, only to continue cackling like a madlass
>You see she’s stripped herself down to only her underwear
>Fat and fur spills out over the waistband of her camouflaged panties
>The only proper piece of clothing on her is her useless earrings
>”Come here, you little fucks!” She swipes dangerously close to the wolves, who whimper and back up towards you as if Stella posed a threat to hair and tail
>”You ain’t seen strength like mine. BEHOLD, THE POWER OF ROSE QUARTZ!”
>She shakes her head violently, the heavy stones dangling from her ears becoming tiny wrecking balls
>Jesus Christ she’s even crazier than the werewolves are
>It occurs to you (with all the speed of a Xan’d out tortoise) that this is your chance to run
>And take it you do
>In silence, that is, thankful for the janitor’s unhinged madness, because when you look behind at the scene of unfolding carnage, you catch a fleeting glimpse of her football-tackling one of the enormous werewolves onto her clean, clean floors, and then ripping into him with her claws
>Oh god, that sound is horrendous
>It’s the sound of meat rending and carnage and fur ripping from its follicle and the panicked yelps of a dog whose intestines are in mortal peril of being evicted from its body
>You swallow hard and keep running, acutely aware that only two werewolves are on your trail versus three
>And then there’s Stella, after she… finishes with the poor football player-turned-werewolf
>Gotta play this smart
>You’re nearly outside now
>You can see the lunchroom and the carnage that the wolves undoubtedly left behind
>And just nearby, sweet, sweet salvation, shining with the glowing light of the day, like a quest item in a video game:
>The door to the parking lot, etched into the glass walls of the lunchroom
>You can almost TASTE the cold air rich on your tongue
>Naturally, because life loves raw-dogging you in the ass, you don’t power through the door with infinite grace, but rather crash through the door as a werewolf barrels into you, its hulking arms crossing around your midsection in a kind of death-hug
>You’re fucked now
>You are farmer Alex
>You are un-alienated from your work by capitalism as you happily rip white lilies from the school’s communal garden
>You glance over to the massive, white pile of flowers sitting nearby and decide ‘Yeah, that’s enough.’
>In fact, you’ve torn nearly every white flower out of the garden
>Gathering up a handful, you start the trek across the open parking lot to Anon’s car with a bit of a merry skip, where Mike is impatiently waiting, despite having been told to wait by the lunchroom doors
>His car is the most recognizable one because it’s a dented piece of shit with a collapsed front hood
>And one of the only ones in the parking lot
>God this is taking awhile, and it’s pretty fucking cold out here
>You aim your head towards the lunchroom doors
>Wonder when they’re going to get back? Surely it can’t take that long?
>Like a dam bursting, Sam explodes through the doors at break-neck speeds
>You wave to the rabbit, but the look of sheer terror on his face says your efforts are a waste
>His heavy feet pound into the black grit of the empty parking lot as he shoots on over to Anon’s shitty car at the far end of the lot
>Hm
>Moments later, Anon tumbles through the lunchroom doors, a rather steroid-driven looking wolf clinging to his midsection
>That doesn’t look like any wolf you’ve seen
>Looks like a wolf crossed with a muscle-bound body builder
>And all the tattered clothes make you think something FUCKY is going on here
>Hmmm
>Anon is screaming and trying to pry the wolf off of him as the hulking beast starts pulling him back into the school
>Hmmmmmm
>A SECOND wolf tumbles out the door, tripping over Anon, landing a good five feet away
>HMMMMMMMMMMMM
>In a daze, it lumbers to its feet and glances around the parking lot for prey
>Its sapphire-blue eyes, burning with feral need, settle on you like two heavy and malevolent orbs
>HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
>You are Anon
>And you are NOT going back into that school
>The werewolf’s feral claws rip into your suit jacket as its tightening grip squeezes the air out of you
>This furry FUCCBOI will not consume your delicious flesh
>Not today
>You’ve got a goat to fuck over, some cringe goths to fuck over, and a bunny to fu-
>Wait
>NO, NOT THE TIME FOR GAY
>You kick and thrash your legs, forcing all those gay thoughts into the bend of your knee as your leg explodes directly into the jean-padded crotch of the werewolf
>You strike gold
>Or more appropriately, jewels
>The werewolf yelps in pain as your dapper shoe SMASHES into his tender nut sack, forever cucking him out of pups
>Like a snare, his grip instantly fails, and you’re free again — and on your feet in a few painful seconds
>You check to see if the snapjaw bled you
>That’d be another kick in the dick for him
>Though he striped your beautiful suit jacket with holes, the werewolf never punctured your crisp, white dress shirt
>The beast hunches over in pain, whimpering and gagging on what must be post nut-annihilation-nausea
>You scowl and tighten your fists with all the blood, annoyance and anger you’ve got inside of you
>Which, compared to Mike, is not a lot
>But it’s enough for you to do what you’re about to do
“Herrrreeeee doggy,” you say with snarl and smirk. “Be a good boy and bring your pretty face to my fist…”
>The werewolf raises its head, and for a split second you lock eyes
>This might be someone you know, who you never had problems with
>Could even be that they had no choice but to undergo lycanthropy
>Is this really the right thing to do?
>Fuck it
>You belt the werewolf in the fucking face so hard that the regret hurts more than your swing
>Bone crunches beneath your hands and pain explodes like a live wire running up your twiggish arm
>JESUS your hand hurts
>The werewolf stumbles to the side in a slow, almost drunken stagger
>He doesn’t fall, but slackens, just barely standing upright, a thick thread of drool sloping down from his open mouth onto the cold asphalt
>You shake your open fist like it was on fire
>God that was painful
>You think you struck bone
>But Anonymous?
>That was so god damned cool
>you wish someone had seen-
>The werewolf stands tall, straightening its back like it was bending a steel rod
>A savage growl booms from its chest
>Its jaw drops open like a leaden weight, revealing a row of bloody teeth
>The werewolf starts forward, very slowly, trembling with hate
>Anonymous, do you think its mad at you?
>…Perhaps…
“Mikkkkeeeee? Sammmm? Alllexxxx?” You call out, taking slow steps back
>Now is a perfect time for someone to come and rescue you
>But Alex sprinted inside, drawing the other werewolf with him
>Maybe a little bit of cowardice is a good thing?
>You want to run, but you don’t have to anymore
>In one massive swing of its burly arms, the werewolf catches you in the chest, sending you sailing through the air like a badly dressed superhero
>Unsurprisingly, you don’t stick the landing, because you land flat on your back, even rolling several times because God hates you for masturbating too much
>The asphalt doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would
>What stings more is the shame
>You manage to sit up, but perhaps that was a mistake
>The werewolf is closing the distance between you and him, something close to a smirk playing out on his face
>Welp, this is it
>You’re going to get mauled to death out here
“Listen, listen. I don’t know what they did to you, but you don’t have to do this to me. You can still walk away from this.”
>The werewolf issues a hateful growl
“I know you’re in there, whoever you are. I’m sorry I socked you in the face.”
>Silence
>Well, diplomacy was worth a shot
>Your hands dumbly search the asphalt for something to use as a last-resort weapon
>A rock
>Some glass shard
>FUCKING ANYTHING COME ON
>You come up with a good, fist-sized chunk of asphalt that looks like a burnt potato
>This will have to do
>Man, fuck what you thought before
>You are NOT going to die out here
>A very shameful part of you is thankful for the courage buff that Vanessa gave you, because it enables you to do otherwise dumb things like attempt to fight a seven foot tall werewolf with a rock
“Come closer you knife-eared mutt, I’m going to make you choke on my coc- I mean, rock.”
>And those might as well be your last words, as the wolf bears down on you, its jaw flying open to rend your flesh
>But they aren’t your last words
The Leaves of Fall Act 2: Fear the Nobodies (Part 14)
You've never really 'fit in' with the heavily divided Ranchview High School crowd. Jock, Goth, Prep, Cheerleader, Nerd... you were never any of these. But as Halloween approaches, strange things start happening, and a dark ritual begins with the finding of a curious red book. It's a race against time for you and your friends to stop a group of students from ushering in an age of darkness, and to also figure out just what the hell is wrong with that rabbit.
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About this version: originally, The Leaves of Fall was split into two pastebins to compensate for the length of the story. Given that pastebin has chosen to censor this story for ambiguous reasons, it will forever be stored here and on AO3. This new version contains spelling, grammar and content fixes. Please understand that the content is all the same as the earlier versions minus some sentences being changed and fixed up. I cannot stress this enough: no new content has been added. It's my hope that this is a cleaner, easier-to-read version of the story.
Cover: https://imgur.com/a/vZS4Q
Sam (drawn by Akella of /hmofa/) https://imgur.com/a/nk3t1wT
Fan art collection: https://imgur.com/a/SCCSIQv
Accompanying playlist (WIP): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410_nI-0J
Alternative link: https://www.sofurry.com/view/1479078
Total word count: 147,552 words
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
About this version: originally, The Leaves of Fall was split into two pastebins to compensate for the length of the story. Given that pastebin has chosen to censor this story for ambiguous reasons, it will forever be stored here and on AO3. This new version contains spelling, grammar and content fixes. Please understand that the content is all the same as the earlier versions minus some sentences being changed and fixed up. I cannot stress this enough: no new content has been added. It's my hope that this is a cleaner, easier-to-read version of the story.
Cover: https://imgur.com/a/vZS4Q
Sam (drawn by Akella of /hmofa/) https://imgur.com/a/nk3t1wT
Fan art collection: https://imgur.com/a/SCCSIQv
Accompanying playlist (WIP): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410_nI-0J
Alternative link: https://www.sofurry.com/view/1479078
Total word count: 147,552 words
5 years ago
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Estimated reading time
12 Minutes
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