Fur and Fangs #3

by Rae D. Magdon

  I mumble something noncommittal. It’s not as straightforward as Colin says it is. Sometimes girls do run for the hills. I’ve seen it happen before more than once.

  “Look,” he says, pushing off the wall and putting a hand on my shoulder, “I get it. Opening up to people is scary. I’ve been there. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned dating while trans, it’s that worthwhile people stick around to ask questions, and the trash takes itself out.”

  “Yeah, but you got a dick when you changed. I get teeth that can rip a person in half.”

  “Do I detect a bit of jealousy?”

  Maybe I am jealous, a bit, but that’s a conversation for another day. I’ve got enough on my plate without thinking about gender issues. The wolf issue is much more pressing. “I get your point. I’ll think about it.”

  “Thatta girl. Thinking’s better than worrying.” Colin claps my shoulder one more time, then leaves my cubicle.

  “Sounds like the same thing to me,” I say, but he’s already out of earshot, sneaking back to his own desk before Mrglsptz or someone else catches him slacking off.

  Once he’s gone, I pick up a stray pen from my desk and start gnawing on the cap, which is already riddled with teeth marks. After a few seconds of chewing, the plastic splits, and the sour taste of ink leaks onto my tongue. I swallow and stick my tongue out in disgust, reaching for the gum I keep on the corner of my desk. I’ve gotta find something better to chew on.

  ***

  Central Park doesn’t just look different at night than it does during the day. It smells different too. The scent of stubbed-out cigarettes and fried food has mostly dissolved into the air, leaving behind wet leaves and earth along with the scent of the reservoir. Rain’s coming, bringing a heavy sort of dampness in the air, but even that is comforting. It’s the closest thing to home I can find in the city.

  Normally, the park closes at one, but tonight, it’s open ‘til five just for us. I see a few other people strolling along the jogging track a couple hundred yards away, heads turned to watch the glowing line of the pink sunset sink behind the silhouette of distant buildings. Most are wolves like me, judging by the smell, but there’s a trace of cat nearby. They like to prowl when they change too, although they stick to the trees and leave the ground to the packs.

  Technically, I’m not part of a pack up here. In a big city, that kind of thing involves membership dues, meetings, and social events. It’s not like back home, where your pack is your parents, grandparents, a few aunts and uncles, and a dozen weird cousins. Down south, everybody knows everybody. Up here, it’s more like an exclusive club, one I don’t wanna waste my time joining. It’s not so bad, though, being a lone wolf. Most of the time, it suits me fine.

  As I park myself on a bench facing the reservoir, watching the last rippling reflections of light disappear from the water, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out a bit too quick. Despite the awkwardness of the past few days, I’m hoping it’s Isabeau before I even fumble past the home screen.

  It’s not. Colin’s name is on the screen, along with a dopey looking dog emoji next to a wheel of cheese. I roll my eyes, but I also crack a smile. Instead of putting my phone away, I gaze out over the water once more. It’s beautiful here. Even the autumn chill feels nice. I almost wish I’d asked Isabeau to come with me.

  She’s just doing what you asked. You told her you wouldn’t be in touch. You were the one who pulled away. But now, trembling on the edge of my change, I’m starting to regret it. Maybe Colin had been right for once.

  I pull up my camera and snap a picture of the reservoir just before the sun sets. Then I pull up Isabeau’s text thread and send it to her. She responds almost immediately, like she’s been waiting for me to text first. ‘It’s beautiful there’.

  I start to type ‘yeah’, but after staring at the unsent text for a few seconds, I delete it. I can’t stop thinking about what Colin said. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should take a risk and ask Isabeau to stop by after all. What’s the worst that could happen?

  She could head for the hills screaming, the negative voice in my head says. It’s happened before loads of times.

  But part of me can’t help hoping Isabeau is better than that. She’s not some human going out with me on a dare to piss off her daddy. She’s fifty years old and drinks blood to live. Surely watching me change can’t be that strange.

  Fine. Do it if you want to. But when your fool heart gets hurt, remember I told you so.

  I shut the negative voice down. I don’t want to hear what it says anymore. Instead, I text Isabeau. ‘Are you free? Can you stop by?’ It takes all the courage I have to hit send.

  To my relief, she replies almost immediately. ‘Can I bring anything?’

  ‘Just yourself. I’m by the reservoir, on a bench near the jogging track.’

  ‘Ok.’

  Isabeau doesn’t reply after that, but I take that as a good sign. It probably means she’s on her way. Meanwhile, my stomach is a mess of nervous knots. My hair’s raised more than a long-tailed cat’s in a rocking chair factory, and I don’t even have all of it yet. My skin starts to itch, and I can feel the tips of my fingers and the tops of my ears heat up. It’s happening. I don’t have a lot of time.

  Thankfully, there is a grove of trees not too far behind the bench, and werewolves aren’t much for modesty. We can’t afford to be. I slip behind a wide trunk for a bit of privacy and strip off my pants. I’ve made the mistake of waiting too long to take them off before, and it never ends well. Clothes are too expensive to keep on replacing them.

  Underwear comes next, then my shirt and binder. The night air should be cold on my naked skin, but I’m burning too hot to notice. It just sort of tingles, and the soft gusts of wind send little nervous zips down my spine. As the last of the light slips away behind the shadowy skyscrapers in the distance, I turn off my phone and hide it under my clothes. Hopefully Isabeau will be able to find me—if she doesn’t chicken out.

  As soon as the pale glow of the moon peeks through the dark blue clouds, the pain hits. It’s not unbearable. I’m used to it after all these years, but it makes me grit my teeth. My muscles cramp up, tensing beneath my skin. Sweat breaks out across my body, but then it melts away as fur sprouts in its place. My limbs lengthen. My knees and elbows crack as they reshape. My bones scream as they stretch, and my teeth jut out past my lips.

  When I raise my nose to the sky, it’s long and pointed enough for me to see it in front of my face. I can smell everything: the green growth of the trees, the distant smoke of the city, even other wolves close by. I close my eyes. My thoughts slow down, becoming shorter. There are less words. More feelings. Finally, the pain fades. My body feels right. My tongue lolls from my mouth, tasting night. Still early, still fresh. I want to run. Run far and fast. My legs stretch, claws scoring the soft earth. No. Can’t run. Have to stay. Waiting for someone. Izzy. My tail wags. Izzy. I hope she comes. Hope…

  Rustling echoes above me. I look up. The sky isn’t dark anymore. It’s all sorts of colors. Blue, purple, black. Other things English has no names for. Stars are shining, except in one small dot. Something is flying. Falling leaves? No. I smell something. Something alive. A small creature swoops down. Bat? Bat! Izzy!

  I sing hello.

  Izzy swoops down. She’s big, maybe the size of my face. Her fur is brown and silver. She sings hello back in her tiny voice. She came. Izzy came. There are so many things I want to show her. The way the water looks at night. The best scratching trees. The best smelling logs. The best grass to roll in. I run, following my nose, while she flies above me. I sprint. She soars. We hit the wind together. The park is all ours.

  ***

  Hours later, we walk the empty track around the reservoir. Izzy has changed back. I haven’t yet. She talks, even though I can’t talk back. “Thanks for asking me to come. I wanted to. I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  I nudge her shoulder with my nose. She’s wearing my clothes and I
’m happy she smells like me. It’s okay, Izzy.

  “I know your change is different from mine. I can control it, and you’re at the whim of the moon. But I hope seeing me in my other form helped.”

  I whine. Lick the side of her arm. Yes. It did help.

  “Not all of us are bats, you know. Some turn into cats. Some become mice. A couple can even change into dogs.”

  I like you as a bat. You can keep up with me in the air.

  She smiles, reaching up to scratch between my ears. “You’re a good listener, Riley. Not just like this, either. But…I must admit, you look even more like a golden retriever now than you usually do.”

  I plant my rear on the ground and growl. Izzy turns toward me. Our faces are the same height.

  “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. Look at all this fluffy golden fur.” She runs her hands through my coat, scratching behind my ears.

  I let her do it. I’m a pushover.

  “Who’s a happy wolf?” she coos.

  I slurp against the side of her face to shut her up.

  “Ew,” she shrieks, but she giggles as she pulls away. She swipes her arm over her cheek. “No kisses until you turn back, okay?”

  Kisses. I could do with some of those. I look past her head, toward the sky. Is it pink yet? Yes. I can feel the sun creeping up. It’s faint but warm in the distance, just out of reach.

  As the first rays break over the tops of the trees, I begin to change. My limbs shorten, reshaping themselves. My hair recedes. My muzzle shrinks until I’ve got a normal nose again. I rise on two legs to greet the dawn, stretching out the kinks in my spine. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, turning into a wolf and back again can leave a body sore.

  That’s when I notice Isabeau. She’s got my shirt pulled up over her head and her arms tucked inside to protect herself. Suddenly, I realize I’m not the only one who’s uncomfortable. Isabeau’s stayed with me until the sun rose, and I bet she hasn’t reapplied her lotion recently.

  “C’mon,” I say, shepherding her out of the faint sunlight and toward the shadowy grove of trees where I’d first changed. “They’ve got spare clothes for any wolves that lose theirs during the night. I’ll get you some.”

  “Naked?” Isabeau’s voice is slightly muffled with my shirt pulled over her face.

  I clear my throat. “I don’t mind none. Won’t be but a moment.”

  Leaning into kiss her, then realizing there isn’t any bare skin to kiss, I go for an awkward, scratchy hug instead and jog toward the nearest supply tent. I’m not worried over my nakedness, but I wish I had my binder. Running with breasts is a chore.

  The werewolf at the tent smirks when he sees me, but thankfully, his eyes stay in polite places. He seems amused more than anything. “Need some spares?” he asks, turning around to dig in a cardboard box behind him.

  “For a friend,” I say.

  “A friend. Sure. What size?”

  “Really, for a friend,” I insist. “Biggest you got.”

  He pulls out a damned ugly green and brown sweater, vaguely Christmas-themed, and a pair of grey sweatpants. I take them with a nod of thanks. They aren’t fashionable, but I figure Isabeau will be grateful for anything that covers skin.

  With a mumbled ‘Thanks’, I head back to where I left Isabeau, only to find her curled up behind a large tree. She doesn’t seem any worse for wear, and she even peeks out at me from over the neckline of my shirt. Her slitted pupils are even narrower than usual. She snorts when she sees what I’ve brought for her.

  “Well…at least it’s colorful.”

  I pass the sweater over. “As long as it covers.”

  Isabeau is apparently very good at putting on new clothes without taking off her old ones. With some amount of squirming, she manages to trade my shirt for the sweater without showing more than a few strips of skin. She pulls the ugly green fabric up over face too, until only her brown hair poofs out through the top.

  “Can you even see with it over your face like that?”

  Isabeau chuckles from inside the sweater. “Yes, actually. I can see just fine.”

  The emphasis of her words has me blushing. I’m still naked as a jaybird, and I just know she’s eyeing me through the stretched material of the sweater. I square my shoulders a little and suck in my gut. Might as well give her something nice to ogle.

  I put on the sweatpants and let her keep mine. Then I put on my binder and shirt and stick my phone in one of the deep pockets. Not only does Isabeau smell kind of like me, but a bit of her scent has rubbed off on my shirt, so I smell a bit like her coconut suntan lotion too.

  Somehow, we manage to leave Central Park without injuring ourselves. I’m bare footed, since Isabeau is wearing my oversized tennies, and I can only see a thin slice of her forehead and the tops of her long lashes, but with me guiding her, we get on all right. We pass a few other folks on the way, weres of various sorts. Most of ‘em look tired and happy, like they’ve run themselves ragged and are ready for a nice long nap. Isabeau attracts a few stares. I can’t tell whether it’s the awful sweater, or whether they’re picking up the faint scent of copper, but my presence seems to steer the nosiest people away. It’s pretty obvious she’s with me.

  “Mind if we go to mine?” I ask as we walk past the uniformed guards watching the entrance. “It’s closer.”

  “Please.”

  Thankfully it’s just a couple blocks. Underneath the shade of the skyscrapers, Isabeau is able to poke her head out at last. She looks a bit like a turtle creeping out of its shell, and I can’t help but laugh.

  Isabeau rolls her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. How was I supposed to bring extra clothes as a bat?”

  “You didn’t have to stay ‘til sunrise. You coulda flown home.”

  “Yes, I could have…” We arrive in front of my apartment building, and she slips a hand out of the sweater’s oversized sleeve, groping for mine. “But I’m glad I stayed.”

  I link our fingers together. “Me too.”

  We take the elevator to my floor together. Isabeau rests her head against my shoulder, yawning slightly. The way her nose wrinkles reminds me a little of how she’d looked as a bat.

  “This is bedtime for you, huh? You can grab a few winks in my bed if you want.”

  “Don’t you have work?” Isabeau asks, but her eyelids are already drooping.

  “Nope. Legally, I get one day off for ‘scheduled transformation purposes’. Just gotta make up the hours here and there.”

  “So you’re saying we can wallow in bed together for a few hours?” Isabeau gives a dreamy sigh. “That sounds like heaven.”

  We leave the elevator and head down the hall to my apartment. Isabeau kicks off my shoes near the door and untangles herself from the huge green sweater. Once she’s naked, she flops straight onto my bed, burying her face in my pillow. I strip too, cuddling up beside her. She’s cool, but I don’t mind. Her skin feels soothing against my hot flesh. The two of us fall asleep together, nestled among the blankets without bothering to climb underneath them.

  ***

  I wake up to warm lips on my neck and cold fingers dancing along my side. I squirm, unsure whether I want to press into the ticklish touch or pull away from it. Eventually, I press into it, and I’m glad I do. Isabeau pulls me closer, pressing her breasts into my back.

  “Hey.”

  I turn to look over my shoulder. Isabeau’s hair is more flyaway than usual, and her hazel eyes still look sleepy. I kiss the tip of her nose. “Hey yourself.”

  Her beautiful smile stretches all the way across her face. “About last night…”

  I hold my breath. Even though I know Isabeau can’t possibly be freaked out now after spending the whole night by my side, my reflex is to cringe. My mind starts racing. It’s like Cindy Lou Castle all over again.

  “Thank you, Riley. For trusting me.”

  “Yeah?” I exhale heavily. “Well, thanks for stayin’.”

  She laughs softly. “
I still say you look like a golden retriever.”

  “You don’t have no room to talk. You’re a bat. At least golden retrievers don’t eat bugs.”

  “Well, mosquitoes and I do have a lot in common.”

  I roll over beneath Isabeau’s arm so I can face her. “Naw. Their bites itch. Your bites…” The bed’s still warm from our nap, but I can’t help shuddering. “Well, you won’t hear me complain.”

  Isabeau’s smirk shows the tips of her fangs. “Really? Because I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.”

  “Say no more.”

  I wiggle closer, tilting up my chin and scooching so my shoulder is near her mouth.

  “Are you sure? I know you must be tired.” But there’s a flash of hunger in her eyes I can’t ignore.

  It’s my turn to wrap my arm around Isabeau’s waist. “It’s fine. I don’t mind being your midnight…uh…” With the windows closed and my phone who knows where, I can’t actually tell what time it is. “Noon snack?”

  “It’s closer to four. We’ve been out for almost ten hours.”

  “That makes it your dinnertime. Close enough.”

  Isabeau moans with gratitude. Her lips graze my collarbone, just kissing at first, and heat coils in my belly. She’s bitten me a couple of times now, but it still makes me nervous. Not the bad kind of nervous, more like the kind when you’re about to go down a waterslide head first and you don’t have full control.

  I moan as Isabeau starts sucking the crook of my throat. She’s found a spot; I can feel her running the sharp tips of her teeth over it, but she doesn’t sink them in. She’s teasing.

  “Please?” It’s embarrassing to beg, but I’m not too proud either.

  Her fangs pierce my neck and my hips give a jolt. My body is suddenly flooded with warmth. The heat starts at the top of my spine, radiating down my arms and legs, finally settling deep in my pelvis. A low throb starts there, pulsing in time with the blood Isabeau is drawing from me.