by Unknown
Incensed by their passion, she grabbed his head with both hands, bringing the side of his face to her mouth. She kissed his cheek, tasting salt, smelling the sweat that dripped down his face. Her teeth found his ear and she latched on to it, biting and pulling, freeing her own animal nature. He did not resist, nor did he respond as he continued to pump his hips.
He speared her, savagely bearing down on her with his muscular body. The rhythmic beating on her mound sent waves through her, an urge ready for release. A low moan started in her chest and slowly climbed into her throat, becoming louder and higher pitched as it strained for its apex. He thrust harder, his grunts turning into a harsh keen. Their cries melded together in a song of bestial lust.
His cock throbbed as it penetrated deep into her body. Her pussy swelled around it, clenching like a fist. His hands gripped her shoulders, pushing her down, as sharp claws dug into her skin. With a rumbling growl, he opened his mouth against the side of her neck, his sharp teeth tracing over her exposed skin.
Then his jaw clamped down hard, digging into soft muscle, gripping her. But the pain was far away, muted under a spell of adrenaline-fueled bliss. Her head rolled numbly as she wailed in sheer ecstasy.
His body slammed down on her, driving deep, bumping against her furthest wall. She felt his cum spurting into her, his cock pumping inside her. Snarling, he panted through clenched teeth as he filled her with his seed.
She was immobilized, her body pinioned by his hips. Her shoulders were caught under his clawed hands, and her head was trapped by his muzzle-like mouth, still fastened to her neck. Although he'd stopped thrusting, his pelvis ground against her, and his cock twitched as it touched a core of pure pleasure, deep inside her.
She gasped as her back arched and her toes curled. As if in response, his hips resumed pumping with a feverish pace, his cock sliding easily through his own fluids. His seed dribbled down, trickling over her clenched ass.
An electric rush trembled up through her spine, filling her with warm, tingling pleasure. It sang through her nerves, built to a crescendo, and then crashed down on her with a flood.
She contorted against his restraint, her hands clawing at his ass. The opening of her pussy spasmed around his shaft, each throb piercing her with a new wave of delight. Spots formed in her vision, sound became muted and abstract. The last thing she remembered was a distant chorus of howls, somewhere lost in the pinpoint of gray at the end of her sight.
* * * *
Lacey awoke with a start, her heart racing, sweat beading on her forehead. Holding her breath, she lay still as she listened. She wasn't sure how long she'd been out but the room was still dark. Slowly, she lifted her head to peer over the folds of the comforter. But she winced as she felt sharp pangs in her neck. She forced herself to sit up despite the pain, and squinted at the shadowed doorway. Closed. Her eyes widened. He's still here.
A cold chill washed over her body. In the moment, she'd been prepared to let him take her completely but now she fought the impulse to run for the bathroom and hide. Then she heard a faint growl and her heart leapt in her chest. The sound was brief, like a murmur in the night. She took a shallow breath as her eyes searched the silent dark. Again, the growl broke through the quiet.
She turned her head and saw a shape under the covers next to her. It gently lifted and fell in a rhythmic pattern. As her mind finally clicked the pieces together, she slid her fingers forward with trepidation, her heart swelling with hope. Under the folds of sheets, she touched the perfectly smooth skin of a man, as he lightly snored in deep sleep.
Thank goodness. She glanced up at the ceiling and blinked. Tears clouded her eyes and she swiped at them with the palms of her hands. Then she tried to swallow the sudden burst of emotion and choked.
Afraid that coughing would wake her husband, she made her way to the bathroom with confident footsteps. She couldn't help the smile on her lips as she quietly closed the door and flicked the switch on the wall.
The harsh light strained her eyes and it took her a moment before she could make out the grisly sight in the mirror. Her skin was unhealthy and pale, standing out in stark contrast to her messy dark hair. And the blood was just as black. Dried and cracked, it trailed down her chin and plastered her throat.
Reflexively, her hand grabbed at her neck, expecting to feel mangled flesh. But her fingertips only found a few, shallow puncture wounds. Grabbing a washcloth, she gingerly cleaned herself as her mind grappled with the meaning.
Mark had not fully changed this night. Was it like a disease or a cold that passed with time? She hoped it was over. Now they could get back to their lives of...
She paused and searched her own eyes in the mirror, reconsidering whether she truly wanted normalcy and routine. The box had been opened and she was surprised to find she liked what had come out.
The move had been hard on her, more so than she wanted to admit. And though she loved her husband, she hadn't quite found her bearings in their new community. Far from the bustle of city life, she'd never felt so alone. Maybe she'd been looking for an excuse to run away.
Now, under the fluorescent light, she knew that her attempts to fit in had displaced her own passions. And this town had never been normal.
She'd felt listless and disconnected after they'd moved, then she'd panicked after the accident at the lab. But Mark had been fine, surviving the blast with only minor burns and a gash on his arm. After a night of observation at the hospital two towns away, he'd been deemed clear of any biological contamination.
But she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching them. And then he'd started changing into a monster.
Flicking her hands, she splashed her face with a final rinse. In the mirror, she examined herself once again. The blood had looked worse than the actual injuries. There were puncture marks in four places next to her throat and a small split in her lip. Turtlenecks for the next week.
At least the weather was cold enough for the style. As an afterthought she ran a brush through her hair and fixed herself with a stare while she worked the snares out. For a moment she entertained the idea of telling him.
What would she say? "Hi honey, you turned into a wolf for a few nights. No problem though. You just bit me a little."
She shook her head, feeling refreshed. Nope. This would be her cross to bear.
In that moment of clarity, a little flash caught her eye; her necklace was hanging over the sink. The silver cross had given her hope during the darkest parts of her ordeal. It would be nice to wear that tomorrow.
As her skin touched the shiny metal, a small shock raced up the nerves in her hand. She recoiled and sucked the tip of her finger. Then she gazed in horror at the tiny, X-shaped burn in her flesh.
Oh no... Lacey fell back against the wall and slid down to the floor, staring at the cross. Maybe it's not over.
Threesome with the Wolfman
The smell of the wild surrounded her as she slipped through the forest. The musky aroma of earth, the sweet odor of decay, and the fresh scent of growth, all invoked a sense of safety and home. Like a ghost, she quietly moved along nature's floor, her feet padding over soggy dead leaves and soft moss. She felt alive, like a heavy chain had been lifted from her neck and she could run wild for the first time in her life.
A cool night breeze blew through the trees, disturbing the tranquil calm. High above, rustling branches appeared to fight each other for ownership of the bright, round moon. Then the wind rushed along the ground, tickling her nose and ruffling her... hair? Why does it feel so short?
But before she could work out her confusion, a growl rumbled from behind her, shocking her with a burst of adrenaline. All other thoughts cleared from her mind but one important decision: run or fight.
She bolted from her spot, calculating in that split second that she was not in a position to attack. He was behind her and downwind, which accounted for his closeness. As her nails tore into the soft soil she listened for her pursuer. Judging from his panting
snarl, he was about two trees back but gaining on her.
A short bluff exposed a small ravine directly in her path. She leapt across it with ease, catching a whiff of moisture and the gurgling sound of the little brook under her. Then it was gone, lost in the shadowed, tangled trees.
Her chest ached and her lungs burned as her legs carried her through a maze of dense forest. After a moment, she realized he was no longer following her. She'd heard only silence since the last jump. She ventured a look back but could only see a tangle of tree trunks and dark.
She never saw the root that caught her, but it threw her hard. Tumbling, she came to a stop on her side, her ankle burning with pain. She gasped for breath as she lay, resting her body on the damp soil. It was a long way back and she would need the energy if she had to defend herself.
Her gaze shifted to the moon as it hung low in the sky. She felt the pressure of time and the urge to return before the morning light. But she didn't know how much time she had left for her watch was gone, lost during the chase.
Then a snarl stopped her breath cold. She lay absolutely still, sweat dripping into her eyes as she scanned the gloom for the source of the sound. Soon a dark shape loped out of the trees in front of her. He looked like a wolf but he was as large as a bull. His dagger-like teeth bared in his muzzle and the dark fur raised from his thick neck. Even on all fours, his back would have come up to her chest if she were standing upright.
She shook her head in frustration, her mind reeling as conflicting thoughts blurred like double vision. Standing... on all fours?
Ignoring the searing pain in her foot, she rose up to a crouch. But she could only brace on her hands. Hands. She looked down and only saw paws where her fingers should be.
His bellow was her only warning as his teeth sank into her neck.
A submissive whine slipped out of her muzzle, disorienting fear crushing her resolve. But as he held her scruff in his mouth, he simply butted against her, then pulled her around. He isn't trying to kill me, she thought.
He shoved her again, his teeth scratching her, and she rolled to the side. Then he was on top of her, wrestling and nipping, as she curled her lip and snapped back. And as they tumbled in a bed of leaf-covered ground, a new warmth radiated through her. She shook herself free and he crouched at her side, licking the underside of her jaw. Lifting her gaze to the moon, she let out a long keening howl.
* * * *
Lacey awoke with a jolt, soaked in cold sweat. The sheets snared her limbs as the fabric stuck to her body. She tried to blink the dream away but it lingered in the back of her mind like phantom images after a lightning flash. It was so vivid: streaks of moonlight painted between supple tree limbs, dense undergrowth, coarse fur, smooth skin.
Her heart raced in her chest and the room spun for a moment. But the worst part was the nagging suspicion that the male presence in her fog-laden memory wasn't her husband. Taking deep, slow breaths, she forced herself to relax. It was only a dream.
She sat up and the thick comforter fell away from her naked shoulders, exposing her breasts to the cool morning air. Just a dream, she repeated in the back of her mind. A fantasy brought on by anxieties.
Truthfully, the thought excited her as much as it shook her with shivers of fear. She'd never been unfaithful to any of her partners, and certainly never to Mark. But who didn't have fantasies?
During their last trip to Vegas, he had surprised her with a daring admission. They were celebrating their first anniversary, and they'd met another couple at a show: a cute redheaded girl and her dashing young husband.
All four of them had hit it off and soon they were chatting like old friends. After a few drinks, the men shamelessly suggested swapping wives for a day. She'd found the idea intriguing. But she simply laughed and joked about how the men wouldn't be able to tell the difference in the dark.
Their conversation never evolved past playful flirtations and the other couple had tickets to a late movie. So they said their warm goodbyes and parted ways.
Later that night, Mark had cautiously admitted that he would have been willing to try swinging—just for that night. But only if it made her happy. And she had hummed in response, confessing that she herself found the idea exciting.
The subject was soon forgotten and they hadn't discussed it since. There wasn't much room in her life for kinky adventures anyway, since they were still settling into their new life in a tiny rural community. And Lacey was having enough trouble adjusting.
But those weren't the only words that remained unspoken between them.
Her husband was a rational and kind-natured person. She loved him dearly and would go to extreme lengths to protect him—and she knew he would do the same to protect her.
But she'd been harboring a dreadful secret for the past month. For three nights, corresponding to the rise of the full moon, he had changed into something inhuman. However, he was completely unaware of his transformation. And she didn't know quite how to break it to him.
Mark was a researcher, and analytical to the core. It was easier to keep him in blissful ignorance than to challenge his disbelief in the metaphysical, or to make him think she was crazy, or to tell him he'd hurt her. She just didn't know how to say it, and it would tear her apart to see him in pain.
Lacey sighed and glanced at the clock. It was an hour before Mark's alarm would start wailing. Deciding that returning to sleep would be fruitless, she freed her bare legs and got out of bed. It was still dark but the sun would be rising soon.
As she rose to stretch, her leg gave out and she almost fell, barely catching herself with a hand on the nightstand. I must have gotten a cramp and dreamed that I sprained it, she chuckled to herself as she rubbed her ankle. She frowned as gritty dirt scraped under her foot. And I need to vacuum, too.
She shuffled across the room as quietly as she could, careful not to wake Mark. Her foot bumped against something left on the floor, but she couldn't make it out in the dark. Continuing her blind search down the hallway, she groped for the bathroom door.
She slipped inside and flicked the light on, blinking as her eyesight adjusted. As she turned to peer at the mirror, a wave of déjà vu settled over her bare shoulders like a voluminous shroud.
Her skin was deathly pale and her lips bright red. Small scratch marks crisscrossed her cheek, and a large gash ran across her shoulder. Dirt stained her hands and filled her nails.
Worried that something strange was happening again, she climbed in the shower and washed her body. There she found a bright purple bruise on her hip, and her ankle was swollen. This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't happening, she repeated as she scrubbed herself raw.
* * * *
"Honey?" Mark yelled from the room.
Her hair was twisted up in a towel, to keep it away from her face while she applied makeup over the scratches. The alarm had roused Mark a few minutes ago and he probably needed help finding his belt again. That must be what I kicked on the floor. She let her hair down, donned a bathrobe then walked back to the bedroom.
Mark stood next to the bed, naked as a jaybird, his skin illuminated by the morning sun. Light reflected off his rippling muscles and silhouetted the curve of his luscious cock. She smiled at his gorgeous body and wondered if they had time for a quickie.
Then he looked up at her with confusion and hurt in his eyes, as he raised the gray, felt-lined cowboy hat.
"Whose is this?"
Her cheek twitched as she tried to comprehend what it meant. With a shock, she came to the conclusion that her husband must have attacked some poor man last night. She almost brought her hands up to her face. Instead she coughed into them, to buy time to think.
"Oh that?" She laughed nervously. "I found that outside, thought you'd look cute in it." She grinned while her husband looked from the hat to her, his eyes narrowing. I am the worst liar on this planet.
She strolled over to him and snatched the hat from his hands to place it on his head. It was a little tight
on him but it still looked dashing the way the brim hung over his brows, like a naked gunslinger straight out of a romance novel. She half expected him to tip the hat with his finger and say, "Good day, little lady."
But instead he gave her a quizzical look. "For a minute, I thought..."
His voice trailed off as he removed the hat and set it down on the bed, next to his carefully laid out clothes. He shook his head and then laughed, his smile spreading to his ocean-blue eyes. "Do you have anything planned for today?"
"Not really." She exhaled a sigh of relief. "I have an article to write. Then, I don't know... probably read."
"You should get out more." He pulled on a pair of gray boxers, then stepped into his black slacks. "Go for a hike, or visit the town."
"It's just..." She tossed the damp towel into the laundry and opened a dresser drawer. Staring down at a row of neatly folded panties, she chewed on her lip. "The woods creep me out," she finished lamely.
"Take my rifle with you." Mark shrugged into a crisp dress shirt and raised an eyebrow as his fingers worked at the buttons.
Lacey shook her head. She knew that her husband loved the unspoiled wilderness. He could spend days among the dense trees: hunting, fishing, or backpacking.
Finding a high paying laboratory job in a remote, wooded location had been a dream come true for him. It fed both of the disparate needs of his nature: the gentleman scientist and the rugged outdoorsman. Though Lacey had never guessed that it might turn him into a monster.
"City girl." He gave her a crooked grin as he fastened his belt. "You'll have to get used to it. When we have kids, I'm letting them explore the forest as much as they want."
"Isn't it a little early to argue about parenting?" She selected a pair of black lace panties out of the drawer and batted her eyelashes before slipping them on. "I mean someone's got to get me pregnant first." She snapped the band against her smooth thigh. "With his big, hard—"
"Okay. You win, for now." Mark raised his hands in mock-surrender as he stepped forward to kiss her cheek. His hands loosened the sash of her robe and he hooked his thumbs in her underwear. "But," he murmured into her ear, "will you at least think about going to town?"
