The Wolf Soul - Part Ten
#10 of The Wolf Soul (TF/TG Themes)
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Hehhey, and welcome to this ongoing commission for
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Andy was sitting on the floor, her back against the night table by the big electrically operated bed. She'd turned the lights off to a comfortable level and sat there with her legs flat on the floor, head propped onto the side of the night table that thankfully didn't have any annoying knobs or handles to press onto her neck. She was naked, having shunned any attempts to put clothes on her, because the skin itched so badly under her fresh fur, and something about the weight of cloth upon her body seemed...off, for the moment.
The floor was littered with a few empty cups, their plastic lids strewn here and there. She'd requested food to be delivered and had gone through whatever she liked on the tray before she asked for another one to be brought in, picked on whatever she liked, eating with her fingers, and then tossing the items aside. She could smell fruit, meat, some high grain bread and cheese, all in fantastic...high definition. Andy couldn't find any other way to describe them. Everything had tasted so different to how she was used for them to be.
She had quickly discovered that she didn't like granola anymore.
She'd eaten very messily, too. Crumbles remained on her chin and lips and all over the floor, even on her chest. It was difficult to get her jaws to collaborate fully on the process of mastication - a word that popped to her find from somewhere as something one of the hysterical doctors might use to describe it. Damn nerves, she thought. damn confused brain, not knowing what to do with all this.
She knew what to do with it. She wanted to jump around, crawl on all fours, bark, curl up, sort, and she wanted to smack her lip and if she tried to stop, they did it anyway. It was a compulsion, as was the twitch of her tail or her toes, or the fingers that curled and uncurled when she wasn't paying attention.
And she wanted to chew at things, too. Andy knew that it'd been long since she had had a proper meal, something that hadn't been prepared so that her increasingly weak swallowing action could be accommodated. Andy had been on the verge of needing a tube fitted that would deliver baby formula-like mess directly into her stomach.
She wanted to chew for the pleasure of chewing.
She'd been trying talking, too. The broken conversation with the doctors before didn't really count, since she had just about managed a few odd grunts and that was it. She wasn't happy about that. She wanted to speak, sing, bark, howl...she wanted to do a lot of things with her mouth.
She wanted to kiss Brandon, too.
The image of the bearded, stocky man had slowly began to solidify in Andy's mind after the initial fog had slowly receded. Her thoughts bounced from one to another at a breakneck pace, responding to stimuli, the odd ideas, memories that faded in and out. Brandon's presence began to grow, occupying more and more of the wolf's thoughts.
She remembered everything, from the first smile to their coffee, to holding hands, to friendship turning into passion, sexual energy flowing freely between them.
She thought about the act of being penetrated, pinned on a bed, a backseat of a car, against a washing machine, on the kitchen floor - images flashed, sensations, sweaty face, covered in black, curly hair, eyes squeezed almost shut in concentration, pleasure, rapture, of pulsing joy and love and release.
Andy's cock grew hard, and she moved to touch it - but the familiar shaft was gone. Her paw only felt the mounds of her pussy, warm and fuzzy, with the heat of her slit upon her palm. The feeling of her fingers touching the outer folds felt pleasurable, and made her bark out. She looked curiously down at the sight of her genitals and wondered why her mind insisted on thinking that she was actually having a boner.
Her tail flapped the floor with frustration. She joined in with her other paw and spread herself open, to get a proper good look at what was going on there. The shockingly pink flesh and the scent rising from it fascinated her, in a kind of a manner of discovery and finding. The better access also revealed the nub over the rippled slit into her vagina, poking out of the flesh above it.
Andy's fingers fumbled through the air, as if seeking out the original girth of her cock, but eventually it was only her fingertips that graced against the fleshy bud. It felt intensely pleasurable, almost too sensitive to touch, really, and she quickly withdrew.
Guess this is what they call.... she mused to herself, puzzled by the discovery. She did know the word, but the physical sensation was a bizarre miasma of what a certain part of her brain was saying and what she was actually feeling, the lingering pleasure from her previous fondling of her clitoris. It didn't feel the same as stroking her cock, or having it touched. The feelings she was experiencing now were spread further about, deep in her body, travelling through newly grown or repurposed pathways from her pelvis into her spine and then into the brain.
"Hmmmmrr..." she snorted hotly.
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Andy did not pay any real attention to the fact that Doctor Peter Cho was sitting behind the monitor console, watching with a combination of fascination and terror at Patient Laurie beyond the glass wall. Next to him, Doctor Whitman Rimbaud was typing onto his pad using just the fingers of one of his ursine paw, the pattern recognition software specially fine-tuned for his manual configuration, as was necessary.
"So...how long do you think...she...is going to go on at it?" Peter Cho spoke to the bear.
Doctor Rimbaud didn't look up from his pad, and just kept on typing.
"Extra sensitive nerve endings and a dopamine excess in the brain..." the doctor rumbled. "Could be a while."
The young man found the sight of the wolf pulling her pussy apart once again to be disconcerting. He knew that he had been tasked with observing the patient, but it also felt he was intruding on something innately private, a feeling that only intensified when the wolfess pushed her thumb into herself and began to twist her wrist about.
Doctor Cho looked away, quickly, and tried to concentrate on something else, such as the calm face of Doctor Rimbaud sitting nearby.
"Well I know it's not unheard of but..."
"I had a patient a few months ago who humped a pillow and his spouse's leg when the spouse came for the initial visit," Doctor Rimbaud stated in a clinical tone. "The Holmes-Nankoong etc. survey of post transgenemorphic transformation patients found that up to 78% of them suffered from some form of hypersexual response to the dopamine excess. It ranged from sexual ideation to compulsive masturbation to other sexual acts."
"I guess...she...qualifies," Peter Cho said.
She was fondling her right breast now, with the paw that wasn't busily exploring her pussy. The wolf's eyes were closed and her tongue lolled out of her muzzle. Maybe she was moaning, too, but the thick glass kept the sound at bay. Peter Cho looked away, quickly.
"Her other positive symptoms seem to have been somewhat reduced," the bear mused, "or perhaps she is just so concentrated on the masturbation."
Doctor Peter Cho was unsure what to think of Doctor Rimbaud's extremely cool attitude to the incident. He wondered if the doctor was simply enjoying getting a chance to study such an interesting case, even if it also counted as what was probably the worst medical screwup of the century. Doctor Peter Cho was glad that his duties as an attending physician did not extend to the actual transformation process or the genetics lab. Otherwise his head would be on the line. He could always get another job somewhere else...he'd just have to hope that they wouldn't' connect his name to this incident, once it would inevitable blow out and be spread through all the medical journals.
"Do you...." he stated.
The soft pitter-patter of fingerpads quieted.
"Yes, Doctor Cho?"
"Do you think...do you think...he...she...will ever get through this?"
"What do you mean?" Doctor Rimbaud asked. "She emerged well from the procedure, all things considered."
Things.
"I mean...God, Rimbaud, when the neurotransmitters come down, I mean...when he...she...whatever...you know what I mean...when she'll realize exactly what's going on...she'll go psychotic!"
"Technically, she is," the bear said. "At least until the neurochemistry stabilizes and we can actually assess her mental state."
Peter Cho glanced through the wall to see that the wolf had swapped sides and was now fondling her other breast with what looked like hypnotic intensity.
"And once...she gets there and realizes that she's woken up as a...she...oh, Rimbaud, I don't even know if he...she is a she!"
The bear's ears flicked.
"It looks a lot like one to me, and the genes don't lie either."
"You know that phenotype and genotype are not always...corresponding!" Doctor Cho complained. "Total androgen insensitivity - "
"I don't need a lecture," the bear rumbled. "I just know that what I see is that physically she appears to be female. Psychologically...gender is a complex matter of interaction between the physical and physiological sex and the actual social gender preference."
"You are the psychologist," Doctor Cho mumbled. "You should know."
"I'm not a gender identity specialist. I did my work on bodymorphic disorder, not on gender dysphoria."
"But it overlaps a bit doesn't it?" Doctor Cho suggested. "Isn't there a deeply set discomfort for your body if you feel like it's the wrong gender?"
Doctor Rimbaud glanced into the patient room, where it looked like the wolf had at least three fingers inside herself, pumping away intently.
"Does that look like unhappy to you?"
"Weren't you just saying that at that stage they'll hump pillows if it comes to that?"
"Yes," said Doctor Rimbaud, "but there is no knowing how she will react, as you say, once she stabilizes."
In the patient room, the wolfess was wagging heir tail.
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Cheerio!
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