Chapter Text
HIGH HOPES
Snow falls from the sky as a Before-World train plows through the frozen wastes of Further Bismarck.
It carries with it a contingent of State troopers bound for the frontier, who huddle together on the floor for warmth in an equally ancient passenger car.
Awaiting them is the latest in a long line of wars between the State of Bismarck and the Warlords of Former Wyoming.
Their standard-issue blankets form a crisscrossing web across the floor. The lucky few who boarded fast enough to grab a seat flatly refuse to move.
Everyone is an anthro.
And then there is you, the only human on board.
You pull your ragged jacket tight across your body, and try to ignore the biting frost.
"God protect me," you murmur, "for I am lost in the valley of death."
You are Pavel Koslov, and you have nothing left.
Your home is forfeit, your family is scattered, and the clothes on your back are all that’s left of your property.
The dim disapproval of an angry inspector, snoring aggressively at you from across the aisle, is your only companion.
What a life you've found yourself in.
These miserable musings are interrupted by a sudden gust of freezing air as someone new enters your carriage.
A short anthro bunny in an oversized helmet and heavy scarf wrapped around her face turns to address the crowd, her olive drab uniform peppered with flakes of snow.
"Koslov!" She shouts above the ambient rattle, "Pavel Yekaterinavitch Koslov? The CPT is expecting you!"
You sink deeper into your corner seat, and cover your face as best you can.
The trooper on the floor next to you however gives you away with a pointed finger.
"Mr. Koslov Sir," The rabbit says again, standing at parade rest before you, "Please... CPT Obmeyer has called for you. It's unwise to keep her waiting."
She squats down to meet your gaze, lifting the front of her helmet to do so. You're surprised to see a set of soft, round brown eyes looking back at you.
She speaks again in a more gentle tone.
"Mr. Koslov, sir...It's going to be better for everyone if you come willingly," she pleads, offering you a hand. "Let me help you through this..."
The car bounces beneath you, sending soldiers falling out of their seats and bringing a wave of renewed grumbling up from the ranks.
The bunny’s helmet slips, and falls disarmingly over one eye in the clamor.
A dozen curious eyes narrow on you, many of them hungry.
All you can do is agree and take the stranger's hand.
SSGT Beckett, according to her uniform, leads you gently by the hand through the train.
Each new car brings a gust of freezing wind, a face full of blizzard snows, and a new menagerie of curious faces drinking in the only male among their number.
A few inevitably whisper
A few more nod as you past
And one foolish soldier whistles at you.
"Eyo boy! Take some morphine before you bring that ass back our way, 'cause you ain't gonna like what my hips do to yours!"
The next door opens and closes just slowly enough for you to hear the roar of laughter you leave behind.
The next carriage doesn’t look like the others. In place of crowded floors and rows of occupied seats is a single hallway with doors on either side. You're stopped by some kind of security guard with "MP" painted roughly across her helmet, and notice the words "Officer's Billet" taped over what appears to be a sign left over from Before.
A flashed badge sets you moving again. SSGT Beckett spins around and stops you dead in your tracks once you reach the end of the hallway.
"Things are about to get very difficult for you," she says, fixing your shirt collar and wiping the frost from your shoulders, "but they can also turn out very well if you're obedient. CPT Obmeyer is stern and wants things done to her standard, but she's also very fair and has a deep inner life. Speak when spoken to, do exactly as directed, and I promise things can only get better from here on out for everyone involved."
She pulls her helmet up again to show you those disarmingly soft eyes. "And I'll be there to help you through it if you'll let me."
You swallow hard on a dry throat, and quietly agree to try.
"Good boy. She's on the other side of the door on the left. Knock three times then wait. Good luck."
You knock three times as instructed.
Silence.
The train lurches again.
You nervously raise your hand to the door, and jump back in terror when a harsh, gravelly voice in a strange accent catches you off guard.
"No, don't knock again."
You pull your hand back hesitantly, then reach for the door handle.
"No, don't come in either."
Your hand drops to your side.
From the corner of your eye, you can see SSGT Beckett giving you an encouraging thumbs up.
You hear the hiss of a portable radio, and feel the train come to a complete halt.
"EN1 Torres, is there a reason you and the other engineers are wasting time trying to defrost burst pipes?"
You don't hear the response, but this CPT Obmeyer wastes no time in interrupting.
"I don't care about your excuses EN1, I care about results. Listen here, and listen well, you undisciplined badlands foot-slog: apply antifreeze without officer approval again and I'll have you cashiered for Misappropriation of State Resources. Question my judgment again, and I'll have you shot for insubordination. I've read the Model EMD F40PH Specifications, and I know why we've lost engine power. Don't even THINK of wasting more time. Get this pig iron scrap heap moving now."
Everything goes silent again.
You can hear your own heart pounding in your chest and ears.
"Enter." The voice commands.
You slide the door open.
CPT Obmeyer is not what you expected her to be, given the fear she invokes.
You prepared yourself to meet some kind of hulking predator, one whose head reaches the ceiling and barely fits into her ancient Before-Time seat.
Instead, you're greeted by a snow white rabbit, merely a head taller than yourself, wearing an immaculate black great coat, meticulously polished jackboots, and shoulder length, jet black hair.
She'd almost look like one of the farm girls from back home, were it not for her pointed army cap, inscrutable expression, and hard, penetrating red eyes staring you down.
"Shut the door behind you, human." She commands. "Sit."
You take the seat across from her. CPT Obmeyer produces a manila folder from a briefcase and lays it on the table between you. A lit cigarette burns lazily in an ornate crystal ashtray by the window, while a digital alarm clock rests precariously on top of a hook-bound duffel bag.
"You are Pavel Yekaterinavitch Koslov, 19 years old. You are from the agricultural commune of Linton. You are the third of four siblings." She begins.
"Yes ma--"
"I didn't give you leave to speak," she interrupts.
"S-sorry ma--"
"Your mother--" She continues, "is a midwife, and in detention with the rest of your family. Your father is deceased. Never married. Issue: none. You'd be a "Class A" assignment if not for recent legal troubles."
She sets the folder back on the table. "Is all of this correct?"
You meekly raise a hand.
"Yes, you may speak."
"I don't know what you mean by 'issue', ma'am."
She sighs, and pinches the bridge of her nose.
"It means you have yet to sire any children. The Inspectorate for Human Affairs is very upset about this. The future of the Anthrostate Project relies on stable birth rates, and you have shirked the most important duty of your life."
Your throat closes up, and you feel your face turn white.
Whether she sees your distress or not, CPT Obmeyer continues on anyway.
"Pavel Koslov, you and your family have violated the Inspectorate for Human Affairs’s Reproductive Assignment Initiative by misrepresenting your age on no less than two official censuses. The minimum fine for this felony is 800 New Bismarck Dollars."
You feel like you're going to vomit. That's enough to bankrupt the farm!
"Your mother and your sisters, as accomplices in her crime, face a minimum of 8 years hard labor. With no available caregivers, the youngest, "Millie," must be sent to an orphanage in The City."
You burst out of your seat. "That's a death sentence!"
CPT Obmeyer bursts out of her own. "AND SO IS INTERRUPTING ME AGAIN."
You immediately regret what you've just done.
"Heavens help me boy, you will learn submission, am I perfectly clear?!"
Obmeyer looms over you, as large as a demon from one of Papa's stories from The Old Country.
"Y-yes ma'am."
You are ordered back into your seat, and comply without delay.
"I am not trying to ruin you or your family, Pavel Koslov. I am trying to help you."
The CPT takes her seat again, and reopens the folder. "As adults, your elder sisters are accomplices in your mother's crime. As financial dependents however, culpability can be waived with a bit of work. Your mother's sentence may be commuted to misapplication of Anthrostate resources, and a single year's jail time. I am capable of doing this for you."
The rabbit takes a long drag of her cigarette, and blows a puff of smoke out of the cracked window. "In exchange, you will marry me."
And there it is. What this was all about.
Skipping the assignment pool...
"Do you have any questions for me? Is this arrangement satisfactory?"
Your mouth feels dry, and your mind is clouded. This is a bargain with the devil if there ever was one: your family's freedom in exchange for your own.
Is this even a real choice? What could possibly keep you from signing? Family is everything!
Except...
"Why me?" You ask, surprising yourself. "Why waste your time on a problem child bound for Special Assignment? You’re an officer. You could have anyone."
CPT Obmeyer doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she turns away and takes another pull from her cigarette.
"Your file crossed my desk by chance,” she states. “I know the junior officer they have planned for you, and she is..."
The CPT pauses. Her face slips into a frown.
"You don't belong with someone like her. Our State is young, and Assignment is still a new concept for most...your mother's only crime was caring too much."
You don't have a response. The way she describes it, her intentions almost sound benevolent.
Obmeyer presents the final page in her folder, a marriage certificate with all of your information filled in and lacking only your signatures.
”You may have 48 hours to consider my proposal.”
She says that, but do you really have a choice?
How could you leave Millie without a mother?
You don't hesitate to snatch the CPT’s pen and sign on the dotted line. Obmeyer studies your signature impassively, then files the document away in her briefcase.
"Thank you," she says, putting out her cigarette and flicking the butt out the window. "I understand this must feel coercive. Rest assured, I have every intention of signing provided my conditions are met."
The alarm clock startles you as it begins to flash and beep.
"1500 hours," Obmeyer says, standing from her seat. "Our watch has ended. Once again, Beckett's planning is impeccable."
Wait what?
Your thoughts are interrupted by three rapid knocks on the door.
CPT Obmeyer pulls you aggressively from your seat.
"Enter."
SSGT Beckett pokes her head in.
"I have the tea you wanted ma'am." She says, tipping her helmet back. "Are you still planning on the inspection?"
"Thank you Beckett, and yes."
The small brown rabbit places a tray with tea cups and a steaming pot on the table between you. "The candidate has interviewed well then, ma'am?"
Her attention turns back to you. CPT Obmeyer begins removing her great coat. "Indeed. He is family oriented, protective of his young, and traditional in outlook...he's met every criteria except the last," she says ominously, leaving her hat behind.
Beckett tugs her scarf nervously, watching your reaction from the corner of her eye. "And that would be his--"
"Virility, yes."
Oh no...
Obmeyer unbuttons her shirt, and hands it to her subordinate. Her body, no longer obscured by her heavy winter uniform, is thin with a firm layer of muscle underneath. Though her chest is flat, two rigid pink buds jut defiantly out from beneath her chest fluff.
"You will ejaculate for me."
Your heart pounds once again in your ears as you back against the door.
"CPT, t-this is--" you manage to stammer.
"You are my fiance, and I am no longer on duty..." Obmeyer interrupts, placing a hand on your chest. "My name is Lotte."
She unhooks your cracked leather belt with surprising ease. SSGT Beckett pulls the curtains shut, and takes your former seat.
A moment later your cock is released.
"You may touch my body if it assists the process."
The brown bunny reaches into her commander's briefcase. "Uh, ma'am, did you want the gloves?"
You bite your lip and close your eyes as Lotte's frigid fingers begin stroking the underside of your shaft.
"That would be rather impersonal, wouldn't it Beckett?"
CPT Obmeyer leans down and presses an unmoving set of lips against your forehead. You gasp instinctively as her hand slips around your penis, and watch transfixed as her pants slide to the floor.
Lotte gives your penis a few tentative, coaxing strokes. Try as you might against the backdrop of shame and coercion, you have no difficulty getting an erection.
She firmly peels back your foreskin, then calls out to her compatriot. "Please annotate my notes Beckett: uncircumcised, deep pink glans, hygienic trimming."
You feel your face turn pink, more from embarrassment than the CPT’s vigorous stroking.
Mama had heard from the other women back home that girls your age prefer boys clean shaven, and so insisted you start shearing your pubic hair.
The Inspectors, however, came sooner than expected.
Jessie Coulter certainly liked it… Now it feels almost vulgar.
Over Obmeyer’s shoulder you can see the smaller rabbit's crimson face and hasty note taking.
The CPT seems to take some quiet pleasure from the little moans you’re making, taking her eyes off her penis only to examine a strand of stray pre-cum hanging from her fingertip.
Satisfied with the smell of it, she renews her attack with enthusiasm. "Good boy," she whispers, sending a tingle up your spine. "You are doing well."
To your shock, the CPT kicks her trousers aside without missing a beat, and positions your cock between her thighs. You gasp at the softness of her body and the vague hint of dampness dancing on the other side of her military-issue underwear. You instinctively move your hips, unable to resist the sensation, earning a grunt of approval.
Lotte's breathing picks up, though her expression remains stoic and voice silent.
”More,” She says, squeezing her thighs more closely together.
You do your best to pick up the pace. Something about the thin fur on her thighs makes you feel overstimulated.
Feeling the pulses of desire rocking down your shaft, she takes your hand from the door and presses it against her nipple.
"C-captain, I--"
"Call me mommy."
Another jolt of pleasure rockets up your spine.
”M-mommy–!” you manage.
Whatever you were planning on saying, you don’t get the chance. All resistance collapses as you thrust past her thighs one last time and explode outwards.
Waves of pleasure wash through your mind again and again, and you slump exhausted against Obmeyer’s soft white fur.
Through the haze and exhaustion you notice a soft white hand come to rest on your cheek.
"Beckett, report."
Peering over the CPT’s shoulder, you manage to spot her beleaguered assistant. Her legs are crossed and quivering, and she fumbles for something to say.
"I-it's everywhere!" She finally manages. "It's in my teacup!"
The faintest glimpse of a smile hides in the corner of CPT Obmeyer's mouth. "The candidate has exceeded expectations," she states.
SSGT Beckett reaches a trembling hand up to adjust her helmet, only to recoil when she grazes a stray strand of semen dangling from the rim. "O-oh my goodness!" She squeaks. "I-I am so, so sorry for touching your h-husband's cum CPT!"
She tears the helmet off her head as if the thing were possessed, hurling it onto the ground, and huddles anxiously in the corner of her seat.
"Beckett..." CPT Obmeyer repeats sternly, "report."
"V-very virile ma'am!" Beckett sputters. "A-and, ah, girthy."
CPT Lotte Obmeyer closes her eyes in momentary contemplation. "Thank you, Beckett. You may return to your quarters and vibrator."
The little brown rabbit wastes no time downing the rest of her tea and tearing out of the room, leaving in her wake a toppled stack of papers, an odd smell in the air, and a slightly stained chair.
The CPT turns to her seat and bends over to reach for her suitcase.
Your cock involuntarily twitches, and releases one last spurt of cum to dribble down your shaft and onto the floor.
Stoic as ever, your new wife finishes signing the document and begins cleaning up your mess with a napkin. "Thank you, husband. Please refrain from further ejaculation for the time being; I require similar performance during the nuptial bedding."
Without looking up, she points to the duffel bag hanging from the wall. “Please take the stairs on your left down to the showers and make yourself presentable. I will be here when you return."
With post nut clarity setting in, you somehow manage to take stock of just where you are and what the hell has just happened.
You are on a military train bound for the frontier, where bullets are constantly fired, husbands are regularly kidnapped, and the innocent and guilty alike are slain.
You’ve just signed your life away for a chance at your family’s freedom, of which there is no guarantee.
As for your new spouse…well…
Fuck, there’s a hell of a lot to say!
As a farm boy, you aren't unfamiliar with occasionally fooling around in the family barn. You’ve petted, and you’ve been pet too.
What CPT Obmeyer has just done to you however somehow surpasses everything any girl has ever done.
What do you say to the anthro who’s just traded your family's freedom for your hand in marriage?
Whatever the right answer is, you say the first thing that comes to your mind:
"Thank you ma'am."
She turns to look at you.
"Lotte."