Lupos
You tasted blood in your throat, a warm, metallic substance that seemed to stick inside your maw no matter how many times you tried to spit it out. But worse was the dust, dark and acrid, it clung to what was left of your clothes after the battle. Scraps of leather barely clung to your matted skin, scratches and fresh scars left your chest feeling warm despite the chilling cold. You shiver nonetheless, gasping as all the pain held back by adrenaline seemed to hit you at once and you fell to a knee.
His corpse was still in front of you. Jet black fur matted and twisted, once well-groomed and even somewhat posh for a werewolf, it was now a total mess of dirt, blood, and rot. His blank red eyes looked up at you, mighty maw left open revealing his horrible set of sharp teeth. He was a monster, a beast, a being cursed that should have been ended years ago, yet despite knowing this you feel somewhat sympathetic for the canine. He was once a man, like you. A human, a person who had a family - you assume - maybe a lover, maybe a wife. In another life you two could have been friends, sharing a pint on Saturday and attending mass on Sunday.
You mutter a prayer, but can't seem to get the words out of your lips. You try to think it, but your mind almost seems to fight back, some unforeseen part of you pulling against what felt so natural before you started this hunt.
But nothing about this was natural.
You quickly give up, deciding that thanks could be given to God when you aren't feeling so strained.
What was there left to do? You aren't sure, not at first. For a long while you stare at the corpse of the werewolf, chest heaving up and down in a constant painful series of breaths. You aren't sure until you see the dagger in your hand. A fine thing, one of silver, crafted by some master smith deep in the highlands. You raise it to your face, remembering that the bishop did ask you for physical proof of the werewolf's end - as if your mangled body wasn't proof enough.
You move to bring the blade towards the wolf, but something about your weapon catches your eye. You stop, holding it still in the air to inspect.
Inscriptions adorn the fine blade. *Dominus vobiscum*.
You almost scoff. Then you frown, surprised by your gut reaction. Why would such a phase make you act as such? You've heard it all the time; in the churches and temples, before, after, and during mass. And yet seeing the words bite at you. No, they enrage you! You feel a sudden burning pain spike in your hand at the same time your anger did. With a growl you drop the dagger, hissing at the pain burning into your palm. You bring your hand to your face and gasp. A line of fire, a deep burn ran the length of your palm and fingers, as if you had gripped a pot that was too hot. But that wasn't what concerned you, it was the fur that did.
Fur - as black as the werewolf's - had sprouted from your flesh. Inhuman, the hair of a beast!
It didn't just grow on your hand, you looked around yourself, finding new black hairs rise from your skin like plants from soil. Arms, legs, chest, everything! Having noticed the fur only seemed to make it grow faster, pretty soon you were as hairy as boar.
Not knowing what else to do you clasp your paws together and prayed. But a new pain and the scent of blood interrupted you. Your fingernails. . . they had turned into claws! Dog-like and long, you had stabbed yourself in your effort to bring hands together for proper worship of the Lord. You scream, but your voice doesn't sound like yours. It sounds deeper, more guttural, less like a man and more like a dog. You scream again, intending to yell out towards the heavens and beg God for deliverance. But words don't come out, only yowls. In fact, the very concept of words seem to slowly be pulled from your mind. You forget them, force yourself to remember, only to just as quickly forget what they mean. All sense bleeds out of you, it feels like your mind is being torn away, eaten by some horrible and hungry anger.
You take up your paws and slam them into the earth, stabbing at the ground and grass, kicking out with your feet. Your bones, first your legs, then your arms, feel agonizing pain. They shift, elongate, move inside your body. You howl, screaming in utter pain. Soon enough every part of your body seems to be following suit. You twist and break, bones snapping and instantly reforming and settling. All the while the pain and anger consume both flesh and mind, drowning out any sense of humanity in its relentless hunger. Soon even the thought of pain leaves you. While it's still there, you still feel it and feel it horribly, even that seems overshadowed by two singular drives, the only two words your brain seems to remember anymore: *Eat* and *Breed*.
Thoughts of your humanity, memories of your life, it all drowned in a lake of fire, all except for your hate, you remembered that. Soon enough you wore a coat of black fluffy fur, your skin buried beneath the wild wolf hair. Only the mark where you were burned stayed normal; a blot of pained flesh where the fur grew around it, but not on it, as if just barely kept at bay.
You shut your eyes, for how long you don't know, and when you open them your transformation was complete. Dark, monstrous, much taller and stronger than you were in your human form. You flex your paws, digging at the dirt and moving your limbs as if they were entirely new to you. Looking up to the full moon, you howl. *Awooooooooooooo!*
You are wolf, you are strong.
And you are surrounded.
Shadows, figures that stalked the very edge of the forest, circle you like a pack to its prey. Wolves encased in darkness, you're only able to see them due to your new heightened sense of vision. They encroach, stepping forward almost in unison. You growl, but they move anyway. You bark, but they creep closer, seemingly unphased by your threats.
A horde of werewolves, a collection so large that black fur blotted out the grass. You inhale, taking in the aura of thick musk all around you. They're male, all of them, you aren't able to make out a single woman among the pack of large, mighty wolves.
Then one's tail drops, falling between his knees. Despite his fear he creeps forward, not to you, but the corpse of the werewolf you killed. The beast seems to morn him, momentarily dipping his head as if bowing in reverence.
This beast then circles around, coming before you, even as you growl in warning. He whines, a pitiful sound of fear and submission. Slowly, he turns around, dipping his tail even lower between his legs for a second before pulling it up, all the way up. The wolf's bushy tail held as high as he could manage, he was presenting his rear to you.
A short glance around quickly made you realize they all were, a sea of fluffy black wolf ass waiting respectfully for you to claim your right, what you won in that battle with the great beast.
With one last growl of dominance, you pad over to the wolf that first presented himself to you, feeling your new cock already rising from your sheath. You killed their alpha, you took his title by right of strength, and now it was time for you to claim every wolf before you. You rise over the smaller werewolf and plant your rock hard canine cock against his waiting hole, teasing the entrance just slightly as you prepare to properly mount this lesser male.
You feel a smile coming on, both on your maw and on the lips of the human you once were, you have a long way to go.
And you enjoy every second of it.