All mimics are what they eat, that one especially. Which is why such garbage is beneath you.

You could taste the moldy sawdust already; an evil texture, dry, rough, and flaked with sand and dirt that filled the whole of your tongue and refused to let go.

...must you really consume such disgusting deteriorating debris? What sin did you commit that the Gods punish you so? Do dreams of devouring a duke's ducats require such merciless punishment?

Or, was it the Brooch of Breaching? Oh, the kick it had, stronger than that one tin of moonshine you chanced ages ago and fitting for an item to just shoulder charge through solid rock. You had snagged it when your then-host was distracted and he spent the whole rest of the dungeon paranoid that his party was stealing his loot!

Ahhh... what fun times.

But that was your second... or third host. So, so long ago, long before the five-year gap, nevermind that you couldn't even —

A door rattled, the sound echoing throughout the alley outside.

The elated moment of relief of not having to consume the awful meal was immediately replaced with a sudden surge of panic — the hour-long hesitation over this... "meal" had dropped your guard and you scoot-scrambled to the door, no doubt setting land speed records for hats everywhere. Night had almost fully set in, and your poor eyesight struggled to see anything in the darkness.

The air was cooling, but still warm. And, it was quiet. Unnervingly so. You didn't even realize until this moment that there were no sounds of insects buzzing — something to rejoice later, when there wasn't something out in the darkness!

Another door rattled, sounding less jammed than the first. Your tiny sets of eyes, hidden in the ribbon of your hat form, squinted only to see darkened shadows as the door shuttered violently as it was pulled several times with increasing ****.

With the loudest clatter yet, your pitiful perception finally made out a shadow stumbling away into the alley proper. Tall, wolfish. It stepped away from the door on digitigrade feet. Lanky arms that ended in clawed hands reached its knees, while long, narrow triangular ears poked out of a wide hat.

It said nothing as its head pivoted up and down the building opposite, before turning around and marching directly to and into your shop, clearly unaware of your presence.

You, however, saw it. You knew you were aware of it, and yet it took four whole steps before the floor creaked under its feet, and its stealth finally failed. The shadow took on a finer form, its frame taking on a rectangular shape and fur lightening to an ashen grey which over top a sleeveless robe was worn; plain, except for the dark-colored sash at its waist. Around each of its wrists was a bracelet of large, glass beads. Its neck was long, and the wide hat atop its head was of plain straw.

A nameplate appeared high above the wolfish creature's head:

Level 1 | Aware Wolf
Claimant Worker, Scout, Harvester, Melee, Explicit
> Current Task: Harvesting (Wood)

...damn these developers with their infernal wordplay.

This clearly was not a Player. Merely observing it over the next few minutes made it clear it wasn't even a proper monster. It's movements were... unnatural. Its head snapped to things it found of interest and its body then turned to follow, moving in an almost mechanical nature as it surveyed the interior of your shop, its arms swinging far too abruptly.

Claimant Worker, its nameplate says.

Hold on. Wasn't there was something in...?

...how does one pull open the big announcement again — aha!

There! Claimant Crystals, part of the "Keeps and Settlements update". Some sort of Player territory mechanic, if you had to guess. Escalating curses be damned, you could not deny a base in the middle of this wasteland would be a powerful **** against other Players indeed. Therefore, was that... you hesitate to call it a creature at this point. A drone, would be more precise — was the irony of it being called an "Aware Wolf" intended? Or, is it a proper creature elsewhere that the Claimant-owning Player merely selected for some sort of sick joke?

It surprised yourself to realize you almost felt sorry for it.

Almost. Unless you could exploit it, there was no point in giving it the faintest of damns.

The wolf stepped lightly around the store; some mix of your abysmal perception and its superior stealth causing you to lost track of it as it disappeared from your low vantagepoint. The sounds of wood shifting and bluntly being tossed aside was more than slightly jarring in the quiet of the night, making you wonder if subtly is a separate skill than stealth altogether. The clattering was paused for the briefest of moment as you heard the unmistakable, low xylophone note of something entering an inventory.

Strange. If there was truly anything in here you would had not only found it by now, but eaten it. The only thing in here was....

Harvesting Wood, its nameplate said.

Another piece clicked into place: settlements need supplies. Players no doubt would think themselves above such manual labor — you certainly do. Thus, these drone workers sent out to scavenge wood. Harvesting, you corrected yourself, catching sight of it and its nameplate again as it marched down another of the aisles.

It paused, its head turning to a side before it kneeled, gripped a shelf, and pulled it away. The plank of wood disappeared from its hands with another jingle of a xylophone, and it continued on its way.

...though, considering the state of the city, perhaps there was little difference between scavenging and harvesting at this point.

It's head suddenly snapped down, and it's body turned to follow and kneel. No sound followed, nor did the drone stand up again. Curious, you silently scooted yourself to lean around the shelves.

It was staring at your hatbox. Its head tilted, ears lopping to a side. Then, it tilted the other way. Then the other way again.

Never had you considered what would happen to you if your spawn point itself was taken. Previously, when it was atop the most supremely wonderful velvet pillow this side of the Quicksilver Sea, said pillow was quite literally stuck to the plinth it rested on. Much to the chagrin of Players trying to take it for their own bedding..

You felt more than safe to think the same applied here, that the hatbox was fixed to the shelf it was on. You were apprehensive, but that was due to the unnervingly tall "absolutely-not-a-werewolf" creature as it was only a matter of time before it noticed you. For your hatbox, you not worried in the slightest.

It's long, lanky claws reached out and grasped the sides of the box and lifted it from the shelf.

You became very worried about very many things at this moment.

The wolf turned, took three steps to the countertop and gently placed the box down on it. It then spun on it's foot, returned to the shelf, and pulled at the now box-free plank.

Your entire form deflated into a flat circular disk of tattered silk from relief, releasing a breath you didn't even know you were holding through the many holes in your fabric.

Well then.

Your hatbox could be moved without your consent.

That is incredibly worrying. What if it were moved outside the shop? Does it have it's own limitation of where it could go, or would you just spawn wherever it went? Does that mean it could be destroyed?

The wolfen creature continued to pull at the plank despite the wood's groaning complaints — naturally, though your box could now be moved, the thing it rested on couldn't. That at least was consistent.

Though, a part of you wondered... Would Flight of Fancy take you to where the hatbox is now, on the counter? Would it you appear on the shelf? ...or, would it relocate the hatbox to the shelf, and then you inside it?

Mechanical as this wolf was, it wasn't as empty-headed as you initially thought. Single-minded, certainly, but there was something more to it. True, the wolf itself had little use to you, but perhaps the owner of this Claimant Crystal would. And, the wolf had shown itself to be able to have curiosity. Curiosity was always, always a fatal flaw to the short-sighted. Hopefully a curiosity contagious to the Player the wolf reports to.

Perhaps fittingly, you decided to put your own curiosity to the test and scooted to the door and out, carefully ejecting the five kilograms rotten wood from your inventory before crossing the threshold. The pulls of Flight of Fancy grasped at your threads immediately, unwinding your vision and reality over two of the most agonizingly slow minutes you ever had the displeasure to experience. All the while, the wolf continued its attempted "harvest" of the wood of your shop. One shelf... two... three, four — no, that wasn't good enough for it. Five...? Maybe five...?

POP

Your hatbox swung open, and you indeed found yourself on the countertop. That was one theory confirmed.

The second confirmation followed suit: the POP indeed had caught the wolf's attention, and after a moment of its ears swiveling to deduce where it came from, it's head snapped directly to the box. And then, to you. It's body pivoted to match its facing. It approached. It leaned down to examine you, head tilting again.

In the dark, you couldn't make out its eyes. They were just black shapes in the large grey mass of its fur.

You... were used to this sort of treatment from players, usually of the human or elfin race or at least any Player sensible enough to think of you as some sort of trap instead of a reward (because, you were, after all). But even then, there was expression in their face and movements. Though they at least examined you closely. The wolf shared the visible confusion, but just... gazed at you with the same tilt of her head.

If it were not for the slight motion of her breathing, you would think she wasn't even alive.

Even this close, your lacking perception took a long moment to finally took notice of the softer curves to its muzzle and face. Its snout was quite narrow and its ears large, and though the strength in its frame was clearly defined, so too was the narrow of the waist and wider hips. If there was any further doubt, the view it gave you down its robe revealed two, apple-sized breasts.

Finally, her hands raised up. For a moment, they leveled at the hatbox, but then raised to your height. They slowly closed in on you, and at last, you were picked up.

Unidentified Fashionable Object | Aware Wolf performing Identify using Occult! 10 vs 15! Failure!

Pardon!? What is this pop-up?!

The night air swirled and bent in on itself for the briefest of moments and then you were floating in the air, above the countertop, with the view of two gangly wolfish hands holding space.

Two long ears poking through newly formed gaps in your brim flicked, and you elevated high into the air without warning.

The world spun to the left, and then spun to the right, and the ears flicked again.

The she-wolf's hands reached up and lifted you and placed you on your hatbox. The moment she let go, the world again turned in on yourself and once more you found yourself high in the air atop her head.

Through the dizziness the de-location imparted on you, the implications of what just happened were clear — despite not being a Player, this she-wolf was a valid host! You even had her old hat in your inventory!

However, the repeated attempts by the she-wolf to put you back on your hatbox and the ensuing de-location back to its head was getting... nauseous. This clearly wasn't going anywhere.

"For Weht'ttam's sake, stop! Stop!" you hissed into its ears. "Is the notion of a cursed object beyond your comprehension?! Put me down all you like, I am not going anywhere!"

Mimic | Revealed!

...ah. That was... shortsighted.

The wolf again placed you on the box, and again the world turned in on itself as you popped back onto its head.

Regardless, you were revealed now, you may as well make the most of it!

"Listen to me!" You hissed again. Her arms still moved towards you. By the flicking of her ears, you could tell that she could clearly hear you, she just didn't care. You weren't meshing with her task — her task!

You pulled open the she-wolf's Character Sheet header and her Inventory:

Level 1 | Aware Wolf

Claimant Worker, Scout, Stealth, Whisperless, Harvester, Melee, Explicit
> Current Task: Harvesting — Wood

Active Status(es): Bane of Ironteak

EXP: 640 / 1500

Carry Weight: 30.6 / 30 kg
!!Overburdened!!

!!Overburdened!!

She's singleminded, you reminded yourself. Of course she's trying to put you down, your being in her inventory put her above hew own carry capacity!

"I can assist in your harvesting duties!" You spouted quickly. The arms hesitated. Excellent. "Yes, you can carry more resources home with my help. More resources carried leads to you being a more valued worker." You had no idea if that was truly the case, but a wag of her tail told you she was buying it. "All you need to do is leave me on your head, and move items into my inventory."

The head tilted one way in thought, the hands following the motion perfectly, sharp claws lightly pinching your brim all the way.

Finally, a chill rattled through your worn fibers — the tell-tale sign that she was accessing your inventory.

"That's correct," you prodded her along. "Now, move two planks from your inventory, into mine."

The head, and arms with it, tilted the other way. Long seconds ticked past, then, plunk~ went a more woody xylophone and one plank entered your inventory.

The she-wolf's tail wagged fervently in understanding — plunk~, the second plank of wood. She bounced in happiness, and the long, clawed arms dropped to her sides.

"Excellent," you whispered into her ears, shuffling on her head to get comfortable. Her fur was soft but long, and it took a few moments to properly sink low enough for you to grip onto her head proper, gently clamping down with your teeth that slid out along the opening of your brim. Curiously, the she-wolf's tail only wagged faster as she leaned to one side, shaking her head slightly as her tongue lolled out — oh!

Oh, now you understood quite clearly how domesticated this wolf truly was.

You shimmied again, this time rubbing a bit more aggressively behind the ears, and coupled the motion with the all important words: "Good girl."

Her tail thumped against the shelves behind her giddily. She was, quite literally, wholly enamoured by your praise, being completely motionless until you finally settled back into a comfortable position atop her head.

She squirmed in place for a moment, quick motions that were immediately followed by a long, languid, and yet completely silent sigh.

Actually, now that you noticed it, in all that panting there was not a single audible breath. She was completely silent, save her slowly slowing tail thumping against the wooden shelves behind her.

Before you could dwell on that, the she-wolf's head tilted again, and that chill went up your fibers as she accessed your inventory.

plunk~ — and another wooden plank appeared. plunk~, came another. pl-bong, came the rejection of the fifth.

pl-bong

pl-bong

"I applaud your gumption," you start. pl-bong "...but my carry capacity is a very hard limit."

The head tilted the other way.

plunk~

What did she just remove—?

Your vision suddenly suddenly covered with the underside of one meager straw hat. One that immediately vanished back into her own inventory the moment she let go.

You head back a weary, exasperated sigh. How were you to explain to a creature such as this that you occupied both her equipment and vanity slots? Is she even capable of —

The world spun and turned in on itself and it settled to show the she-wolf's head looked down to you, her nose a breath away from your eyes and the brim of the straw hat atop her head covering the both of you in a dark shade.

But if her head was there, what then was this sphere you were clinging onto? This... soft, plush mass, quivering with each heartbeat and heaving with each silent breath.

The eyes on the left side of your frame squinted, trying to make out what seemed to be another mass just next....

To confirm, you checked your inventory.

Your grip slipped in the realization, prompting you to instinctively bite down — the she-wolf went rigid and her head arched back with a silent gasp. A large hand cupped your form, pressing you closer, your teeth dragging through the short, fine fur of the she-wolf as more of her breast was shoved into your mouth until your brim lay flush with her chest.

Debris clattered off of the store's countertop as she stumbled to steady herself, the hand that cupped your form not letting go, keeping you in a gentle, though firm, squeeze.

"S-stubborn, clever girl," you gasp, your teeth vibrating with the words, sending the sensations directly into her supple chest. "H-how could I myself not realize I was not limited to... to...wh-what is this you are doing?" Her long fingers curled over your fabric, and where her claws pricked at the sewn threads there came jolts and spasms of — of —

You shuddered under her touch, clenching your teeth in tighter as your mind tried to make sense of the sudden wondrous, invasive pleasure. She, in response, fell onto the counter, her back arching as she quivered, holding and pressing you tighter and harder to her chest.

Her fingers kneaded your fabric, squeezing, pulling, stroking, assaulting your senses with undulating waves of a growing need you weren't aware of before this very moment, though one you recalled once before, with a gorgeous sunhat. You were drawn to its enticing silken flowers, excited by the risque lace, enthralled by its confidence, enamored by the taste of its womb, only for....

All at once, it occurred to you that the she-wolf had stopped her squeezing of your form. Instead, a single, long finger gently brushed your brim. She laid fully on the counter, her long form spread out over the dust and debris without a care other than the faint gleam of concern the moonlight gifted her eyes as she looked down to you.

"I... I am fine," you replied to the unspoken question, loosening your toothy grip on her breast. "I am... unsure of — no! No, I do not wish to stop." She took her hands away from your brim, instead slowly massaging the many creases in your tattered form. You mentally added empathetic to the list of things she had the capacity for. ...between that and curiosity, she was less of a drone than you assumed. "Ahem. You... wish me to lead, yes?" Her tail thumped in response.

The she-wolf looked at you expectedly, a hand already going to her other breast but not touching it. The heartbeat in the flesh you in your maw quickened, and the heaving of the fleshy orbs of her breasts redoubled themselves. Her tongue lolled, and her eyes widened, glimmering in what little moonlight made its way inside.

She was waiting for a command.

No, she, your newfound host, was waiting for you. You to ravish her, to be but putty under your brim.

Hah. Perhaps that was a desire a touch too far. And yet, you could not deny that this and all the fantasies unrolling before your mind felt somehow right in a way you couldn't tip your hat towards.

"Well then," you murred. Your tongue uncoiled from where it laid flat along the inside of your hat body. The she-wolf spasmed in wordless joy as it coiled around her long, stiff nipple. "Let us begin in earnest."