Log inLimewah's Hypnovember 2025
Day 13 - Music (Professor Wolf)
"Tch. Fine. If you wanna keep playing, be my guest, old man. Just don't expect me to clap n' cheer."
Whether one stayed on the beaten path or not, the forest was an unsafe place when night fell. A demon lurked amidst the trees, unseen thanks to a coat of fur darker than night.
The Black Hound had once been mortal, more than a hundred years ago. He was a headstrong young man who fancied himself a great athlete, one who would fly into a sulking rage if anyone even came close to beating him in a contest of speed, strength, what have you.
Once day he disappeared from his home village, having stolen a grimoire from the he-crone at the edge of town, and never returned.
He was soon seen stalking the woods in a new form. His once long floppy ears were docked to sharp horn-like protuberances. His eyes were now burning yellow, and his body curved into slender, toned physique that looked as if it had been chiselled out of obsidian.
He stalked the woods, frightening all who passed by and chasing them, merely for sport (and to steal their belongings for a snack.)
Well… almost all. The Black Hound had a challenging able bodied young men to races and contests… and upon soundly thrashing them, would claim his prize from them - oftentimes taking the young mortal's virginity, but always leaving them with his scent in their nostrils and a newly awakened desire to lie with men.
The Black Hound's long life of immortality had not tempered his youthful temperament, as if his mind had been frozen in time, yet to be fully developed.
What need had he of being careful or clever? As a demon, he was practically indestructible, free to run and race and climb and lift to keep himself at the pinnacle of form.
The Black Hound hung upside down, his legs wrapped around a thick tree branch. He pulled himself up merely with the sheer strength of his core, hot breath shooting from his pursed lips as he breathed into the stretch.
His constant exercise gave his coat a glistening sheen.
He had yet to take up his post near the edge of the forest path, to scout for new challengers to trounce. At present, he was deeper in the darkness, warming himself up.
His den was secluded, surrounded by obstacles of all sorts - tall heavy rocks, and thick dense thorns kept him undisturbed, until he was ready to disturb others.
Hunters had come for him in the past. All of them met with a swift defeat, followed by an intense, eye-opening tryst.
The Black Dog fancied himself an alpha, the pinnacle of physique, and had yet to be proven wrong.
"Fifty… Fifty-One… Fifty-Two…"
His counting was sharp, un-voiced, timed to his out-breaths. His pace had not slowed. He was only at the start of his exercises - he wouldn't start to tire until he reached a hundred repetitions.
The Black Hound's sensitive, well-tuned ears pricked up, and he stopped mid-crunch. With one fluid motion, he leapt down and landed, catlike, on the forest floor.
"Who's there?" he said, his tone almost friendly in its casual-ness.
No response. But he could feel a presence. He could feel eyes on him. Or a hunch that someone had come to seek him out, and had pierced the perimeter of his haven.
"Heh… if you're trying to get the jump on me you're doin' a really bad job!"
There was no response. The Black Hound licked his chops, and continued to listen. He sniffed at the air. His nose was so well attuned to the scent of blood, a tiny droplet from a pricked ankle would be more than enough to allow him to zero in - it was why he kept a dense thicket of thorns around his home, a deterrent for hunters and a trap for prey in one.
He wasn't picking up any scents on the air, though.
"Was it my imagination…?" he asked, aloud. The Black Hound was not one for keeping an internal monologue. "I guess it's been a while since someone tried to come after me…"
He heard a soft whoosh. Wind pushing through a tight space, creating a soft, drawn out note.
"Huh… the wind?" the Black Hound tilted his head to the side, his tail swishing curiously. He seemed, for an instant, more like a confused pup than a frightening hound. "I don't feel a breeze…"
As the Black Hound listened, he heard the sound again. He couldn't hear the beginning or the end of it… it faded in, then out again…
Breath through firm, hollow reeds made a sweet melody, polyphonically comforting.
There was a melody. A simple one that climbed up and down a scale, the sort of melody you'd teach to a novice, or lull a child to sleep.
The Black Hound hummed, his throat unconsciously joining in with the melody.
He felt the thorns fail to pierce through his wiry fur and sturdy skin…
"What the hell…?" he murmured. "What am I doing out here-?"
He looked up, and immediately bared his teeth and claws.
On a rock, some distance away, sat a light-grey wolf. If one were to look from the demon to the wolf, one would think the wolf was the older of the pair. Glasses were perched upon the stranger's snout, before his pale blue eyes. In his paws, he held a pan-flute made of glistening copper pipes. He had a kind, professorial, sort of look, and was dressed in the simple robes of a travelling scholar.
He was unassuming. Too unassuming. The Black Hound's hackles were raised. He smelled a Hunter.
Their eyes met. The wolf smiled. The Black Hound returned the smile, though his was far more vicious and threatening.
"You lost, old man?" the Black Hound said.
"I don't think so," the wolf said, cheerfully. "I was just looking for a place to practice."
"Practice?"
The wolf gestured to the pipes in his paws. "I'm something of an amateur, and I'd rather not embarrass myself in front of my colleagues before I'm good enough."
The Black Hound couldn't smell any magic off of the strange wolf, nor could he see any weaponry. Just those pipes.
"Heh. well, looks like you ain't alone after all. If you don't wanna have an audience, then beat it and play that racket somewhere else!"
"Hmhm." The wolf smiled. "What if I don't mind having an audience right now?"
"…huh?"
"You're a stranger, so I don't have any need to impress you. And you don't seem too bothered by my playing, otherwise you'd have lunged at me by now."
Come to think of it, calling the wolf's playing a racket was a bit harsh. The notes were clear, it didn't sound off key… and he hadn't heard tones quite like the copper
"Tch. Fine. If you wanna keep playing, be my guest, old man. Just don't expect me to clap n' cheer."
"I don't expect that at all," the wolf replied, bringing the pipes to his snout again, and pursing his lips.
As he blew, the pipe trilled, the low, resonant whistle filling the air once again.
The Black Hound was about to turn and return to his grove, but the sound made him pause. He felt a strange little flutter in his head, one that made his fur puff out and his body stiffen.
"Huh… that's a nice song," he mused aloud. He turned. His tail was wagging, slowly. "Where'd you learn it?"
He realised the wolf couldn't answer; his mouth was occupied. But as the pipes slowly moved beneath the wolf's blowing lips, the Black Hound found himself leaning in… listening closely.
Eventually, the Black Hound sat down, cross-legged, and leaned forward to watch. He still towered over the wolf, but his ears flattened and his tail thumped gently on the forest floor.
After a time, the wolf lowered the pipes, and reached into his robes.
"I'll just be taking a short break," he explained. "My breath control still needs some work."
The Black hound's eyes narrowed.
"What ya got up your sleeve?"
Rather than a weapon, the wolf drew out a small round-headed mallet, wrapped in something soft and black.
"Just a mallet for the pipes."
"A mallet? What the hell d'ya need that for-"
He struck the longest pipe. The sound, even though it was dampened by the woolly coating, was sharp, startling, and the Black Hound felt his muscles seize up in surprise.
They remained tense. The black fur bristled.
"Wh-what the…"
"This flute is enchanted," the wolf explained, kindly. "It's used for binding rituals. The mallet has been wrapped in your hair, which I took the liberty of collecting over the summer months."
"Wh-what the hell?!" the Black Hound blanched. "You've been stalkin' me?"
"It's not as though you had any use for that shed fur," the wolf laughed.
"Rrgh… you're startin' to piss me off…!"
The Black Hound tensed his legs, reared back, and….
Remained exactly where he was.
The wolf struck the next pipe down, adding to the resonance of the first. The Black Hound quivered.
"Damnit… I c-can't… move…"
"Now that the pipes have been warmed by my breath," the wolf continued. "Each strike…"
Another strike. The Black Hound shivered again, his body stooping lower.
"Of this wand…"
Another strike. The Black Hound's head swam, and his eyes drooped.
"Binds you, just a little more, to my will. My breath…"
Another strike. The Black Hound was leaning forward. A sleepy daze was settling over him.
"Joins with the resonance, and settles inside your mind. Binding your thoughts, and your soul, to me, Black Hound."
"Ghhk… y-you…!" The Black Hound shook his head and tried to snarl, his paws digging into the ground. He tried to make himself bigger, to tense his muscles, to steel himself and fight through the charm, but…
Another strike. Each chime higher than the last, joining with the others, each new tone a blanket that draped over the demon's heavier, sleepier mind…
"C…can't… think…"
"Doesn't the resonance sound nicer with each new tone I add??" the wolf prompted gently. "Each new sound fills in a gap, a bit of empty space… it's very satisfying. When I've rung each and every bell… the spell will be complete. And it'll feel so very good when that happens…"
"Gh… l-like hell I'm g…guh… gonna…" the Black Dog groaned. His whole body was shaking with the resonance, and it felt… incredible. As incredible as a long run or an intense workout, or a victory against a mortal… or maybe even better…!
"On the third-to-last chime..." the wolf continued, "you'll come to attention."
He struck the third-smallest pipe.
Its resonance made the Black Hound's spine straighten, his haunches collapsing to the ground, his front arms pressed into the dirt.
"Gh… b-bastard… I'm n-not some trained dog…!" he said, his voice breaking pathetically…
"Oh, but you are," the wolf said kindly. "On the second-to-last chime, you'll come to me."
Upon the next chime, the Black Hound yelped comically, his body surging forward at pace. He cleared the distance in less than a second, and stopped right at the wolf's bare feet. Then, he pitched to the side and rolled onto his back, tail thump-thump-thumping faster…
The Black Hound felt the urge to let his tongue hang out. He obeyed it. Going along with it felt… strangely right…
"And on the final chime… you'll become my pup."
"Wh-what the hhhell…?" the Black Hound whimpered, even as he wriggled like a puppy dog, even as his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth, even as his eyes glowed and fluttered, and his tail whack-whack-whacked against the ground… "N…Not gonna… g-give in to th-the likes of you…"
"It's okay. You don't need to use that bravado anymore."
Even now, in his moment of triumph, there wasn't a hint of anything but gentle kindness in the wolf's voice.
The last chime was struck.
It was a satisfying, shattering sound. Like the cracking of a sheet of ice on a warming lake.
The Black Hound's anger and frustration… evaporated.
The spell completed, and the Black Hound's eyes flashed… before dulling, their once fiery yellow changed to a dull, golden colour.
"There you are, pup…" The wolf reached down, his soft palm cradling the side of the black-furred creature's head.
"Hah… hah…" the Pup panted, giving a docile smile up at his new Master.
"You have a very pretty smile, underneath that bravado," Master said. "You really must have been unhappy out here. All alone, with no companionship..."
"Rrrf…" the Pup whimpered contentedly, knowing that that life was behind him. He wriggled into the ground, his tail wagging so fast it was spinning like a windmill.
"Well, you've found your purpose now," the wolf continued. "I'm sure I'll be able to keep you once the I've claimed the bounty… and you can remain by my side. A loyal companion and protector as I continue my research…"
The mallet slipped back into his robes, and he sat up to bring the pipe to his lips again. "But we're in no hurry. I think I could stand to practice a little more before we set off."
As Master played, his feet stroked along the Pup's warm, soft, firm belly. The music, and the stroking, lulled the Pup into a nice, deep, happy sleep. The first of many happy sleeps at his Master's feet.
The Black Hound was not seen in the forest again. That legend faded… and a new one spread. Stories of a travelling scholar with a kind, gentle affect… and an enormous bestial dog-demon who acted like a perfectly docile, loyal puppy.
The Black Hound had once been mortal, more than a hundred years ago. He was a headstrong young man who fancied himself a great athlete, one who would fly into a sulking rage if anyone even came close to beating him in a contest of speed, strength, what have you.
Once day he disappeared from his home village, having stolen a grimoire from the he-crone at the edge of town, and never returned.
He was soon seen stalking the woods in a new form. His once long floppy ears were docked to sharp horn-like protuberances. His eyes were now burning yellow, and his body curved into slender, toned physique that looked as if it had been chiselled out of obsidian.
He stalked the woods, frightening all who passed by and chasing them, merely for sport (and to steal their belongings for a snack.)
Well… almost all. The Black Hound had a challenging able bodied young men to races and contests… and upon soundly thrashing them, would claim his prize from them - oftentimes taking the young mortal's virginity, but always leaving them with his scent in their nostrils and a newly awakened desire to lie with men.
The Black Hound's long life of immortality had not tempered his youthful temperament, as if his mind had been frozen in time, yet to be fully developed.
What need had he of being careful or clever? As a demon, he was practically indestructible, free to run and race and climb and lift to keep himself at the pinnacle of form.
The Black Hound hung upside down, his legs wrapped around a thick tree branch. He pulled himself up merely with the sheer strength of his core, hot breath shooting from his pursed lips as he breathed into the stretch.
His constant exercise gave his coat a glistening sheen.
He had yet to take up his post near the edge of the forest path, to scout for new challengers to trounce. At present, he was deeper in the darkness, warming himself up.
His den was secluded, surrounded by obstacles of all sorts - tall heavy rocks, and thick dense thorns kept him undisturbed, until he was ready to disturb others.
Hunters had come for him in the past. All of them met with a swift defeat, followed by an intense, eye-opening tryst.
The Black Dog fancied himself an alpha, the pinnacle of physique, and had yet to be proven wrong.
"Fifty… Fifty-One… Fifty-Two…"
His counting was sharp, un-voiced, timed to his out-breaths. His pace had not slowed. He was only at the start of his exercises - he wouldn't start to tire until he reached a hundred repetitions.
The Black Hound's sensitive, well-tuned ears pricked up, and he stopped mid-crunch. With one fluid motion, he leapt down and landed, catlike, on the forest floor.
"Who's there?" he said, his tone almost friendly in its casual-ness.
No response. But he could feel a presence. He could feel eyes on him. Or a hunch that someone had come to seek him out, and had pierced the perimeter of his haven.
"Heh… if you're trying to get the jump on me you're doin' a really bad job!"
There was no response. The Black Hound licked his chops, and continued to listen. He sniffed at the air. His nose was so well attuned to the scent of blood, a tiny droplet from a pricked ankle would be more than enough to allow him to zero in - it was why he kept a dense thicket of thorns around his home, a deterrent for hunters and a trap for prey in one.
He wasn't picking up any scents on the air, though.
"Was it my imagination…?" he asked, aloud. The Black Hound was not one for keeping an internal monologue. "I guess it's been a while since someone tried to come after me…"
He heard a soft whoosh. Wind pushing through a tight space, creating a soft, drawn out note.
"Huh… the wind?" the Black Hound tilted his head to the side, his tail swishing curiously. He seemed, for an instant, more like a confused pup than a frightening hound. "I don't feel a breeze…"
As the Black Hound listened, he heard the sound again. He couldn't hear the beginning or the end of it… it faded in, then out again…
Breath through firm, hollow reeds made a sweet melody, polyphonically comforting.
There was a melody. A simple one that climbed up and down a scale, the sort of melody you'd teach to a novice, or lull a child to sleep.
The Black Hound hummed, his throat unconsciously joining in with the melody.
He felt the thorns fail to pierce through his wiry fur and sturdy skin…
"What the hell…?" he murmured. "What am I doing out here-?"
He looked up, and immediately bared his teeth and claws.
On a rock, some distance away, sat a light-grey wolf. If one were to look from the demon to the wolf, one would think the wolf was the older of the pair. Glasses were perched upon the stranger's snout, before his pale blue eyes. In his paws, he held a pan-flute made of glistening copper pipes. He had a kind, professorial, sort of look, and was dressed in the simple robes of a travelling scholar.
He was unassuming. Too unassuming. The Black Hound's hackles were raised. He smelled a Hunter.
Their eyes met. The wolf smiled. The Black Hound returned the smile, though his was far more vicious and threatening.
"You lost, old man?" the Black Hound said.
"I don't think so," the wolf said, cheerfully. "I was just looking for a place to practice."
"Practice?"
The wolf gestured to the pipes in his paws. "I'm something of an amateur, and I'd rather not embarrass myself in front of my colleagues before I'm good enough."
The Black Hound couldn't smell any magic off of the strange wolf, nor could he see any weaponry. Just those pipes.
"Heh. well, looks like you ain't alone after all. If you don't wanna have an audience, then beat it and play that racket somewhere else!"
"Hmhm." The wolf smiled. "What if I don't mind having an audience right now?"
"…huh?"
"You're a stranger, so I don't have any need to impress you. And you don't seem too bothered by my playing, otherwise you'd have lunged at me by now."
Come to think of it, calling the wolf's playing a racket was a bit harsh. The notes were clear, it didn't sound off key… and he hadn't heard tones quite like the copper
"Tch. Fine. If you wanna keep playing, be my guest, old man. Just don't expect me to clap n' cheer."
"I don't expect that at all," the wolf replied, bringing the pipes to his snout again, and pursing his lips.
As he blew, the pipe trilled, the low, resonant whistle filling the air once again.
The Black Hound was about to turn and return to his grove, but the sound made him pause. He felt a strange little flutter in his head, one that made his fur puff out and his body stiffen.
"Huh… that's a nice song," he mused aloud. He turned. His tail was wagging, slowly. "Where'd you learn it?"
He realised the wolf couldn't answer; his mouth was occupied. But as the pipes slowly moved beneath the wolf's blowing lips, the Black Hound found himself leaning in… listening closely.
Eventually, the Black Hound sat down, cross-legged, and leaned forward to watch. He still towered over the wolf, but his ears flattened and his tail thumped gently on the forest floor.
After a time, the wolf lowered the pipes, and reached into his robes.
"I'll just be taking a short break," he explained. "My breath control still needs some work."
The Black hound's eyes narrowed.
"What ya got up your sleeve?"
Rather than a weapon, the wolf drew out a small round-headed mallet, wrapped in something soft and black.
"Just a mallet for the pipes."
"A mallet? What the hell d'ya need that for-"
He struck the longest pipe. The sound, even though it was dampened by the woolly coating, was sharp, startling, and the Black Hound felt his muscles seize up in surprise.
They remained tense. The black fur bristled.
"Wh-what the…"
"This flute is enchanted," the wolf explained, kindly. "It's used for binding rituals. The mallet has been wrapped in your hair, which I took the liberty of collecting over the summer months."
"Wh-what the hell?!" the Black Hound blanched. "You've been stalkin' me?"
"It's not as though you had any use for that shed fur," the wolf laughed.
"Rrgh… you're startin' to piss me off…!"
The Black Hound tensed his legs, reared back, and….
Remained exactly where he was.
The wolf struck the next pipe down, adding to the resonance of the first. The Black Hound quivered.
"Damnit… I c-can't… move…"
"Now that the pipes have been warmed by my breath," the wolf continued. "Each strike…"
Another strike. The Black Hound shivered again, his body stooping lower.
"Of this wand…"
Another strike. The Black Hound's head swam, and his eyes drooped.
"Binds you, just a little more, to my will. My breath…"
Another strike. The Black Hound was leaning forward. A sleepy daze was settling over him.
"Joins with the resonance, and settles inside your mind. Binding your thoughts, and your soul, to me, Black Hound."
"Ghhk… y-you…!" The Black Hound shook his head and tried to snarl, his paws digging into the ground. He tried to make himself bigger, to tense his muscles, to steel himself and fight through the charm, but…
Another strike. Each chime higher than the last, joining with the others, each new tone a blanket that draped over the demon's heavier, sleepier mind…
"C…can't… think…"
"Doesn't the resonance sound nicer with each new tone I add??" the wolf prompted gently. "Each new sound fills in a gap, a bit of empty space… it's very satisfying. When I've rung each and every bell… the spell will be complete. And it'll feel so very good when that happens…"
"Gh… l-like hell I'm g…guh… gonna…" the Black Dog groaned. His whole body was shaking with the resonance, and it felt… incredible. As incredible as a long run or an intense workout, or a victory against a mortal… or maybe even better…!
"On the third-to-last chime..." the wolf continued, "you'll come to attention."
He struck the third-smallest pipe.
Its resonance made the Black Hound's spine straighten, his haunches collapsing to the ground, his front arms pressed into the dirt.
"Gh… b-bastard… I'm n-not some trained dog…!" he said, his voice breaking pathetically…
"Oh, but you are," the wolf said kindly. "On the second-to-last chime, you'll come to me."
Upon the next chime, the Black Hound yelped comically, his body surging forward at pace. He cleared the distance in less than a second, and stopped right at the wolf's bare feet. Then, he pitched to the side and rolled onto his back, tail thump-thump-thumping faster…
The Black Hound felt the urge to let his tongue hang out. He obeyed it. Going along with it felt… strangely right…
"And on the final chime… you'll become my pup."
"Wh-what the hhhell…?" the Black Hound whimpered, even as he wriggled like a puppy dog, even as his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth, even as his eyes glowed and fluttered, and his tail whack-whack-whacked against the ground… "N…Not gonna… g-give in to th-the likes of you…"
"It's okay. You don't need to use that bravado anymore."
Even now, in his moment of triumph, there wasn't a hint of anything but gentle kindness in the wolf's voice.
The last chime was struck.
It was a satisfying, shattering sound. Like the cracking of a sheet of ice on a warming lake.
The Black Hound's anger and frustration… evaporated.
The spell completed, and the Black Hound's eyes flashed… before dulling, their once fiery yellow changed to a dull, golden colour.
"There you are, pup…" The wolf reached down, his soft palm cradling the side of the black-furred creature's head.
"Hah… hah…" the Pup panted, giving a docile smile up at his new Master.
"You have a very pretty smile, underneath that bravado," Master said. "You really must have been unhappy out here. All alone, with no companionship..."
"Rrrf…" the Pup whimpered contentedly, knowing that that life was behind him. He wriggled into the ground, his tail wagging so fast it was spinning like a windmill.
"Well, you've found your purpose now," the wolf continued. "I'm sure I'll be able to keep you once the I've claimed the bounty… and you can remain by my side. A loyal companion and protector as I continue my research…"
The mallet slipped back into his robes, and he sat up to bring the pipe to his lips again. "But we're in no hurry. I think I could stand to practice a little more before we set off."
As Master played, his feet stroked along the Pup's warm, soft, firm belly. The music, and the stroking, lulled the Pup into a nice, deep, happy sleep. The first of many happy sleeps at his Master's feet.
The Black Hound was not seen in the forest again. That legend faded… and a new one spread. Stories of a travelling scholar with a kind, gentle affect… and an enormous bestial dog-demon who acted like a perfectly docile, loyal puppy.
