FSE

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"Don't forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he ever wanted."

"What happened?"

"He lived happily ever after."

--Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

He was going to see her again tonight. He could hardly believe it.

Ever since he was a child, he had wanted one thing above everything else. An impossible thing. A ridiculous thing. Something no one in their teenage years had any business wanting, much less a man rapidly approaching 40. He wanted to run through the cold night air, mist blowing like a smokestack from a shambling, ragged feral throat. He wanted to feel the cold earth press between the pads of feet more accustomed to tracking prey over millions of years than pressing the pedal of a Honda Civic. He wanted to smell the fear of some hoofed beast as it raised its head and looked about, questioning in its tiny brain whether it had only imagined the snap of a twig somewhere beyond the treeline. He wanted to feel warm, salty blood fill his mouth, rolling like fire and ecstasy across his swollen panting tongue. He wanted to see the life drain from his prey's eyes as he devoured the soft meaty bits near its trachea. He wanted to raise his head and call out in jubilation to his pack, his friends, his family as they celebrated his kill.

He wanted to be a werewolf.

A stupid wish. One that could never hope to be fulfilled.

Until he had met her.

Nearly 80 people had died on this road. 68 of them from a cholera outbreak at a now long abandoned hospital. Two young girls were tortured by a local madman in a shack just ten feet from the gravel road. Decades later, a man had been killed in his barn by a hatchet. Another man had been blamed for the murder and put to death in the electric chair, only to be proven innocent a few weeks later. The murderer was never found. Cole Jake Road had quite a history.

And then there were the sightings. Strange glowing shapes along the roads. Faceless eyes peering through the window while an old man was doing the dishes. Weird floating lights in the skies. And a large, man-shaped beast that walked on two legs and howled like a dying woman on the night of the full moon.

This last one had caught his eye. And so he had lied to his wife and son, claimed he was on his way to visit a college buddy for a fishing trip, and hopped in the car. Just before he had started the engine, the child ran out the front door towards him, his mother telling him to "Tell Daddy goodbye." She had emphasized the second word, as if to remind him who he was. His father, her husband. Maybe she suspected he was on the way to some affair. Maybe he was. He had opened the door again, kissed his son on the head, and ruffled his hair a bit. The kid always smelled like banana and peanut butter sandwiches. If he could he would eat one at every meal.

Then he waved his wife goodbye and drove six hours to find a boring, if somewhat creepy gravel road. There were no more than three houses, perhaps more past a blockade with "Trespassers Shot on Sight" posted several times upon it. Fuck 'em. If there was a shot of seeing a real, living werewolf he was already taking a large risk. It could tear him to shreds several times over before he had gotten the words he had practiced on the way down out of his mouth.

Or with its nonexistence it could prove once and for all that he was an idiot for being here in the first place.

That was exactly one month ago. He had felt so stupid, stumbling around in the dark, tripping over jagged roots while looking for something so silly.

But he had found it. He had found her.

She was the most gorgeous woman he had ever beheld. He imagined that to others she would have seemed fairly average, everything except for those eyes that picked apart your soul, laying bare every secret you possessed, every offense, every wrong. Her hair hung down to her knees, adorned here and there with talismans and entwined with leaves, a shadow that melded with the darkness surrounding the woods so that she seemed to flow from the night itself. Her lips were the color of blood, the kind you couldn't help but want to meet with your own if those damnable eyes weren't signaling every moment that she could flay you in a heartbeat. Her nails were black, her feet unadorned. She wore a simple black dress, the kind they didn't make anymore. The kind you couldn't find in a store, the kind made from a spinning wheel a hundred years ago. Her eyebrows seemed to meet in the middle, like in the old stories. But that wasn't what made him certain that she was what he was looking for all this time.

It was those damned eyes. Pools of white with a pinprick of a pupil. They weren't natural, like the eyes of a doll that a child would come across in an attic, stare at for a single moment in purest horror, and would watch in living lifelessness as the child fled screaming from the room. He had felt like she knew every single thing about him in seconds. They made him feel like a mouse coming to ask a boon from a dragon. The eyes were timeless, and so was she. He knew she had been in these woods before the houses, before the road, perhaps before the moon rose in the sky.

There was no denying what she was, but even still she had confirmed it without him even asking. She said that she had been waiting for him, waiting hundreds of years for him to appear this night. She would give him what he wanted, and it would be far greater than anything he could have dreamed of. He only had to do three things. First, return here on the night of the next full moon. Second, obey everything she commanded of him without question. And third, in her own words, lay with her as man and woman, as beast and beast in the open night air. He was nodding in agreement before she had finished the first step.

He hesitated from speaking, just for a moment, as she seemed to know he would. She asked if there was something he would like to say. He had to fight to get the words out. Was she what he thought she was? She laughed, and every little giggle felt like icicles slicing across his skin. Then she smiled and asked if he required some sort of demonstration.

He didn't. He could see the hot spit falling from her pointed teeth, teeth that seemed too large to fit inside a human mouth just moments ago. Hair sprouted along her jowl as her lower jaw opened several inches too wide. And her milk-white, cloudy eyes turned the color of hot embers. He had never been so afraid in his life. Or so hard. She reached out with her hand, fingers sprawling further apart, almost like the feet of some carrion bird. She touched the crotch of his pants and laughed again. Soon, she said. Then she asked him to repeat her commands back to her.

Come back. Do what she says. Lay with her.

Satisfied, she stepped back into the shadows and was gone. She gave no response. There was no sign or sound of her passing. She was just gone.

One month later and he was standing again in the same place, eagerly waiting for her return, hoping he hadn't imagined the whole thing.

This time he hadn't even said goodbye to his wife. He threw his phone out the window as soon as he got on the interstate. He knew she would think he was cheating on her. Hell, he soon would be. Then after a few days had passed she would call the police and they would start to look for him. They'd find his car abandoned several hours away, the interior maybe still smoking from where he had doused it in gasoline and set it ablaze. They wouldn't find the man he had made arrangements with weeks ago to pick him up and drop him off, no questions asked, on Cole Jack Road in exchange for one thousand dollars.

He'd miss his kid. He was a good kid.

None of that would matter as soon as she appeared. As soon as he was staring back into those dead, horrible eyes he would know everything was going to be fine.

But she wasn't there. He peered through the trees at the full moon, as if he could have possibly been wrong about the night he was supposed to report back. He was starting to feel stupid. He could go home, make up some excuse, laugh the whole thing away, take a hot bath, and try to go to sleep. What was he going to say about the car? He could think of something, surely. It was his fucking car, he could do with it as he pleased, right?

He was fucked. If she didn't show, he was well and truly fucked. He felt like crying. He sank to his knees intending to do just that, but soon felt talons raking across his flesh as he was lifted like a child back to his feet, thrust up against a tree, and was lost in those horrible, wonderful eyes once again. She bared her fangs at him and he fought to keep control of his bladder. She leaned in, opening her mouth. He closed his eyes, cursing himself for being so stupid. He wanted the last thing he said to be his son's name, but the name couldn't come out, either because he could no longer speak or because he was too unworthy to remember it.

But instead of death, he felt her lips on his, her hot tongue invading his mouth. She kissed him with the intensity of two lovers who thought they would never see each other again. Her clawed hands were brushing the back of his neck, lightly piercing his flesh, leaving tiny trails of red wherever they traced across his soft skin. Slowly he began to return the kiss, his tongue meekly peeking into past her lips before growing brave enough to trace her sharp fangs. As they did so, she laughed, and again he recoiled at the sound.

"Good. You did good."

He felt a swelling of some idiotic pride to hear her praise him.

She let go of him suddenly, as if the kiss had hardly mattered to her, while to him it was everything. "Come." She turned away from him and walked into the darkness, away from the rational world.

For a moment he hesitated. Was he really doing this? Was he really throwing everything away in the hope of becoming a monster? Was he going to abandon everything on the word of this strange, haunting apparition?

She turned to look back at him, and the fear in his heart made the decision for him. He followed behind her, afraid that she had seen the hesitation and would either leave him behind or do something much, much worse. He caught the merest glimpse of a smile as he took the first step. It seemed mischievous, malicious, and sympathetic all at once.

They walked for an hour in silence. No matter his pace, he always seemed to lag the same distance behind her. She moved gracefully. No, that wasn't the word. Ethereally? Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground as they slipped to and fro beneath her tattered black dress. She never once turned back to see if he was still following. She knew, as she seemed to know everything about him.

In darkness they walked, an omnipresent, stifling void that seemed to grow colder and darker the further they pressed. The trees grew taller as they continued, and he felt certain that they should have passed a house or two by now. Instead they seemed to be surrounded by a dense wood, a primordial forest that seemed as out of place in time as his strange guide. They were walking away from civilization, back into the dark past where mankind huddled near campfires and told their children the dangers of ever straying too far way from the clan.

When they finally stopped it was in front of a dilapidated ruin of an old antebellum mansion they he felt certain he should have noticed before they were suddenly upon it. It was an ancient relic, a tombstone left behind from a time when the South was a different place. Slaves had died on this land, some in the fields as they toiled for a master too deluded or too apathetic to feel any kind of sympathy for the living, breathing men and women whom an uncaring, ignorant country considered his property. Some had died somewhat peacefully in the meager sheds at the outskirts of the estate, clasping hands with their children and grandchildren as they passed from this world of turmoil into some happy lie of a world beyond. Some had died at the end of an enforcer's whip for daring to voice an opinion, or squinting their eyes in accusation, or the simple crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And some had died for altogether different reasons. There was something in the air here, some malignant presence. A demon, or a devil, or THE devil. Something that must be appeased with blood and sinew and tears.

He hadn't noticed she was staring at him from atop the rickety porch, the guardian at the gates of hell. "I lived near here once. Long, long ago." She paused, waiting for him to respond. When he did not, she looked into the sky and smiled, revealing teeth too sharp to be human. "We would play near the edge of the property. We always knew there was something different about this place. Something the children would only whisper about conspiratorially. They talked to the devil here. They killed for him. They lay with him on the night of the full moon. It made their crops grow taller, it made their children healthier, it made their slaves stronger.

"The truth, of course, was far stranger than anything we could have dreamt." She returned her gaze to him. "Do you want this?"

He swallowed, or attempted to. His mouth was suddenly so dry. "Yes," he croaked.

"No matter the cost?"

"Yes."

"Even though it will cost your very soul?"

"Yes." He didn't pause for an instant.

She seemed pleased by that. She lifted a finger and pointed with three-inch long talons to an area to the right of where they'd approached the house. "There."

He turned to look, and there she was, standing underneath a grove of willow trees. He jumped, startled, and looked back to where she was standing only a moment ago only to find the porch empty. He looked back to her as she held her arms wide, welcoming him to what was about to occur. He strode towards her, fighting off the urge to run to her side. He didn't want to appear too eager, too naive, for fear she would lose interest in him and turn him away. He needn't have worried.

When he was standing before her at last, she stepped to the side and pointed again at a round stone table in the middle of the grove. Atop it was a white sheet covering something small, though what it was he couldn't--and wouldn't--guess. "There. Go."

He nodded and slowly walked to the table. Whatever was underneath the blanket moved, perhaps recoiling from what it knew was about to happen, though it made no sound. Closet to him on the table was a simple white dagger, probably carved from an antler, or maybe from a bone.

He looked back at her, fear apparent in his face. Her only answer was a simple nod. When his hands hesitated just above the knife's handle, she took one step away and the fear of her leaving him in this haunted place was enough to push him to action. His trembling hand grasped the hilt and lifted it. It was so light. He passed it from hand to hand, stalling. He took a few deep breaths, trying to steel himself for what he was about to do.

He felt her hot breath on the back of his neck before her hands lightly touched his shoulders. Her body pressed against his back just lightly enough that he could feel her warm breasts through his shirt.

"What ..." He fought to use his words as though he were only just learning how. "What is it?"

"Does it matter?"

He thought for only a moment before he shook his head. "No." He started to lift the knife.

"What faith did you belong to?"

"W-What?"

"What faith?"

It was a strange question, given what was about to occur. "We-We were raised Catholic."

She gave a simple hum. It was hard to tell if she was disgusted or just merely acknowledging him. "In Nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. That's how it goes, I think?"

He nodded. It had been so long since he'd heard those words. What would his old priest have thought about finding him here? How many Hail Marys would he have needed to say before he could put his soul back on the path of the righteous? He raised the knife, holding it above his head in both hands. He felt her head press against the top of his back as she hugged him.

"Did you mean them then? The words?"

"A-A-At the time." The mist poured from his throat. When had it gotten so cold?

"Did you serve Him? Your God? Truly, with all your heart?"

He nodded, shaking.

"You'll serve another one soon."

He nodded again. Then he brought the knife down. The hidden animal--God, please let it be an animal--shrieked, groaned, and was silent. Blood spread slowly from where the knife had entered its body. He dropped the blade on the ground and fought the urge to vomit.

"Good. Turn around."

He did. There was no possibility of his doing anything else.

She stood before him in all her perverse splendor. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her robe had just finished its descent to the cold, wet ground and its owner was leaving nothing to the imagination. Her white skin seemed to shine, mirroring the intensity of the moon above. Her cheeks and lips filled with color as they reddened. Was she blushing? The thought of her showing embarrassment was absurd, but her blood was obviously flowing, flowing like the dark stains now spreading across the pure white sheet.

Her eyes pierced him, dissected him, invaded him, like two glowing yellow pits into the ninth circle of Dante's hell. The circle for the betrayers. Her pupils shrank as they focused on him. She flung her hair backwards over her shoulders, sending it cascading across her back, her ass, down to her thighs. It was hard to tell where she ended and the darkness began. She held her arms to the side, welcoming his appraisal. After all, she was his now, and he was definitely hers. Her fingernails glistened as if wet, catching the moonlight every other moment.

She took a step towards him, slowly, bringing herself even more into focus. Her legs were long, slender and yet powerful, the muscle rippling just underneath her white skin. As soon as she was close enough she reached out and ripped his shirt down the middle in one smooth, seemingly practiced motion. How many souls had pledged themselves to her? He knew he wasn't the first. He didn't feel the cuts she had rent in his flesh, just the hot blood trickling down his chest little by little.

"Off."

It was a command he had no trouble understanding or complying with. He began to disrobe, kicking off his pants and sliding off what was left of his shirt, although his eyes never ceased tracing her body. Her nipples were hard, sweat dripping off of them despite the cold night air. Steam seemed to rise off of her body like she had just stepped out of a sauna. She brought her thumb to his chest, this time careful not to injure him with the sharp nail, then brought her thumb to her lips and sucked a drop of his blood away. She rolled it around her tongue like it was honey, then smiled at him, baring a mouth full of fangs. A thin stream of bloody drool fell from her lips.

Her eyes were solid yellow now, her long eyelashes fanning them like flames. She pushed a strand of hair from her face, sliding it behind her now pointed ear. He was soon standing naked before her, and she began running her claws through the hairs on his chest with one hand while she repeated the motion at the wispy strands that were growing on her own. Gradually she trailed her hand lower, lightly grazing across his manhood to see if she was having her desired effect on him. She needn't have bothered checking.

With another fanged smile, she lifted her face to the heavens and smiled at the moon. He started to ask her something, although what that was he couldn't be sure, and he was driven to silence once again by an angry glare from her yellow eyes. She wordlessly commanded him to be silent. She returned her gaze to the heavens again, her breaths now coming in faster and faster as she embraced what was happening and what was still to come. He noticed his own breath was doing the same. Because he was doing the same.

Because it was happening to him as well. It was finally happening.

He brought his hands to his face, simultaneously feeling the sharpness of his teeth with the sharpness of his nails.

God above, it was finally happening.

He looked into her face, noticing a widow's peak had formed in her hairline, the roots of her black tresses beginning to creep down her forehead. Her eyebrows, already unkempt, were thickening. The faint hairs between her supple breasts were thickening as well, spreading across her nipples and trailing down to join the thick treasure trail drifting down to her dampness below. She raised her arms, the moonlight drifting across the hairs on her forearms, showing the thick growth in her pits. It wasn't the look of a city-dwelling lady, but that wasn't what was before him right now. She was an animal, and she relished in it. She brought her legs together, rubbing them sensuously against one another, the thick hairs of her thighs brushing back and forth. Finally his eyes reached her feet, where another patch of hair was growing on their top, drifting down to her toes, where the whiteness of her nails was becoming tainted by the soft black earth as she scratched against it, perhaps eager to send her running through the night air after some cervine prey. But only after they finished what they were both eager to do.

The man looked down and saw the same had happened to him while he examined his mate, although his hair was thicker in the chest and across his belly, and he could feel it flowing across his shoulders and back as the wind lightly caressed him. He looked down past his still-rigid cock and gave an audible gasp of joy at the sharp claws growing from his toes, happily swaying his feet to and fro like a child. As he watched them, he found her own hairy foot lightly pressed against the top of his as she drew closer to them.

He looked up and saw the hair across her body had thickened, so much that he could run his fingers through the patch growing on her ass as they slowly embraced. She was so close to him now that he could taste the hot air of her breath upon his lips. It was sweet, but almost rank, like she had just torn apart a rabbit with her dripping fangs. Her eyes were twin suns, reflecting the pale moon back into his own eyes that he prayed were having the same effect on her. God, he wanted her. Was it time? He pressed his cock against her leg, feeling a hot wetness where the head pressed against her. She smiled again, but shook her head. Not yet. But soon.

She wrapped her arms around him, tugging and pulling the thick hairs growing across his back as she lightly scratched across his skin. He somehow knew by her smell that she also wanted to take him now, but would stand for no distractions from his observing his new body and hers as well. Her eyebrows had become one single line from the hair framing her face, joining with the hair on her jawline and her chin. She was almost enveloped in it now, and it could hardly be called hair anymore. It was halfway between hair and fur at this point, just teetering on the edge before she became another species altogether. She pressed closer against him, her hard nipples pushing against his chest. She brought her lips close to his. Had she been this tall before?

Just before she kissed him, she gave a sharp hiss of pain and pushed him away. There was a dull ache in his muscles that he knew she must also have been feeling. But whereas she seemed only inconvenienced by a dull ache, he felt an almost overwhelming pain shift through his entire being, starting with his arms, legs, and chest. He leaned over, threatening to fall to his knees as the pain became unbearable. But before he did, he felt her hands upon her shoulders, rough pads grazing across his hardened arms. He looked into her eyes and saw ... something there. Not compassion, for he felt she hadn't been capable of that feeling for well beyond a hundred years. Just a sort of blatant reassurance that he wasn't going to die tonight.

The pain seemed to plateau at somewhere just south of crippling as he brought his arms before him again and saw how they were noticeably swelling as he watched. His eyes drifted to his upper arms. He had never been a strong man, nor particularly scrawny, but now he looked like he hadn't missed a day in the gym in years. He flexed his muscles as she laughed deeply at his somewhat vain motions. He touched them, noticing as he did that black pads had grown on his fingers and palms. He could feel his biceps swelling as he pressed against them, soft skin becoming hard sinew. He shifted his weight, testing and confirming that the same strengthening was happening in his legs.

As the pain started to level off, he turned his attention back to her. She was undergoing a similar change. She had grown, but her litheness only seemed to heighten her feminine appearance. Her breasts had grown as well, her hips and ass swelling larger, giving her an hourglass figure he knew men would've fought over to claim. Perhaps they had in less civilized times. Her skin was barely visible through the hair--fur--now. And he noticed something unexpected as she grazed three sets of nipples that had grown across her visible abs. She laughed again at his confused expression, but the feral dugs only seemed to make him harder. He glanced down at his manhood and saw that it seemed at least an inch longer than he remembered, but returned his attention to her as she gave a low warning growl. He understood that she wanted him focused on the glory of her own transformation rather than observing what was happening to him down below.

He looked into her face and saw little skin was visible, just a bit below her eyes that was slowly going away as well. Thick drool was falling from her lips, cascading from her fangs even as he noticed he was doing the same. He wanted her so badly, more than he had ever wanted anything.

And suddenly he could tell just how badly she wanted him, although it was more aggressive coming from her, like he was becoming her plaything, her property. How he knew these things he wasn't sure, until he noticed it was carried on the smell emanating from her. He could smell a sweaty, wild musk as it exuded from her pores, thicker around her lips, her armpits, and her cunt. But it was much more than just that. It was like he had been gifted with a sixth sense, like a scent-based bond had been linked between them. He could smell emotions coming from her, thoughts, feelings, even her own observations. He felt he could see the woods around them through her eyes, ears, and nose. He found himself hoping she could feel the same from him, and felt reassured that she could as he smelled a sort of rank, sweaty scent coming from him as well.

He looked down at himself now and saw that his muscles seemed to have finished growing, even as he noticed for the first time that somewhere in his observations the pain had finally disappeared. He was an athlete now, possessing in minutes a physique that some men worked for years to achieve. He tried to laugh at the sight, although it came out as a deep growl. The sound brought a whimper from his mate and he could tell the sound he had just made had increased her need for him merely by making a noise. Could he even speak now? Was he still capable? It didn't matter. Words were useless, hollow things tonight.

He looked back to her and saw her nipples had began to lengthen into teats even as the flesh below them swelled, forming new breasts. Jesus Christ, she was made to breed. Did werewolves breed? He'd know soon enough. His cock ached, a dull throbbing pain that radiated up his core just behind his hard sixpack. He gazed down at it and moaned, seeing it was easily twice its former length, nearly a foot long and still growing. It swelled red, as if it were angrily demanding satiation. Its head began to taper to a point, and dark purple veins could be seen along the slick, shiny flesh.

Suddenly he felt a hot liquid touch against his chest. At first he thought it was just more of the stringy drool that was dripping from his blackened lips, but he soon noticed the smell around the same time he saw that his soon-to-be mate was standing very close to him now. She smiled that horrid smile again, yellow teeth gnashing as they began to extend from her mouth just a moment before her entire jaw started to push outward with a sickening crunch, her nose dripping wet even as it darkened. She reached between her legs and touched herself, her labia visibly pulsing under her rough palms, shifting, pressing outward as it slipped further back between her legs. She brought her dirty, clawed fingers to his chest and smeared her wetness across his chest fur before rubbing it just underneath his nose.

He couldn't take it anymore. Her smell, her scent, was so close to him now. She had to be his. He raised his arms as if to push her to the ground and take her like a rutting beast, only to immediately stop as fear gripped his soul. Her eyes had been reflecting the moonlight, but now there was something else there, some other glow that seemed to emanate as much from the cursed land in which they stood as from her. Eyes are the window of the soul, his grandmother always used to say. If that was true, there was no soul in the terror that stood before him, just a window into some unknown, primal hell that existed long before mankind. For a moment he wanted to run, but decided against it. She would tear him apart before he took a single step, and there was his ever increasing need that demanded he stay right where he was.

Her snout finished forming even as his own began to grow. He screamed in pain as his skull broke apart, reformed, then broke apart again. He clawed at his face, trying to provide himself with some small comfort. He covered his eyes, briefly catching a glimpse of her horrid feral smile, hot streams of drool dripping onto the cold black earth. The glow in her eyes was gone--thank whatever god or demon he now belonged to--only to be replaced by that same sinister bemusement she seemed to revel in whenever he was in pain. His jaw continued to crack, his sinew stretching and tearing as his teeth grew larger, sharper, and more bestial.

Finally he felt the pain subside. Surely it was almost over. In the space of a moment his legs cracked, forcing him to stand on the balls of his feet. As his feet began to stretch, dark claws tearing into the earth, his large toe shifted along with them, becoming a dewclaw. Strangely, this didn't feel nearly as painful as anything he'd felt before. In truth, there was a strange calmness settling over him, as if the high was almost over and his adrenaline was dying down. He stumbled, trying to maintain his balance before falling to his hands. Taking stock of them he noticed they had also shifted, growing longer, less capable of movement but from the look of his claws far more capable of slashing at his prey. He worried for a moment that he would be stuck on all fours, but instinctively knew he could still stand. A sharp pain in his ass heralded the beginning of the tail he'd anxiously awaited. Yes, it was almost done. And then ...

With only one thought on his mind, he looked back at his mate to find she had assumed a similar position. She was almost ready. The lips of her sex had swollen, puffing outwards and tapering to a spade as they finished shifting back closer to her anus. Her tail was still forming, luxurious midnight black hair flowing from it.

And now, finally, they were done. He was the monster he'd so craved to be. She looked over her shoulders at him, demandingly, giving a small but insistent whine. He wasted no time, nearly hopping onto her back, recoiling in renewed fear of the woman as she growled a warning. He was so hard, but he'd played this game before and knew foreplay was always expected. He began to lap at her canine sex, relishing the bitter taste of the hot liquid dancing across his slavering tongue. She lightly howled in response, a deep baritone noise that echoed through the trees. He placed his clumsy front paws on her ass, desperately trying to bring himself even closer to her sex, his tongue drifting back and forth between her swollen marble-sized clit and the heat of her tunnel.

Suddenly he felt dirt flung onto his thighs as she began to kick her legs, scratching deep furrows in the earth. He ceased his ministrations, his ears swiveling in her direction inquisitively. The furnaces in her eyes threatened to become rekindled and he immediately knew the time had at last come and she was growing angry every moment he delayed. With utter joy he straddled her, gently pushing her tail out of the way as he lined himself up, pressed against her, and then let loose a howl of bliss as he was inside her. He slowly rocked his hips, gently seeking to match his rhythm with hers. Her response was to snarl and snap at him, eliciting a pitiful yelp as he almost recoiled. She was making it painfully obvious that she wanted a beast, not an attentive lover.

Happy to oblige, he began thrusting faster, and faster still until she gradually lower her gaze, finally satisfied with his pace. Nothing he had ever experienced compared to this, and he hoped it would be the first of many matings to come. After all, despite her heir of otherworldliness surely she was a creature of flesh and blood. Surely she had been alone for so long that she'd welcome him night after night.

Her ass slapped against his thighs even faster now as she urged herself to orgasm, her eight large breasts slapping against each other, thick teats dragging against the dirt. She was close, and so was he. He pulled her closer, wrapping his strong arms around her waist, tongue splayed across the back of her neck. They howled in unison as they came, her strange sex grasping at his cock and refusing to let him go.

It was some time before his pleasure died down and he slowly became aware of himself. He had done it. After so many years, after so great a price he had finally attained what he wanted, what he deserved. It felt so right. Not just the strength, the lust, the feral beauty that made up his body, but the senses as well.

He noticed for the first time how much clearer the darkness had become. He could see so much more.

Miles away he could hear deer running in terror at the sound of their howling. He could hear so much more.

A thousand scents touched his nose. He could smell so much more. Birds, rabbits, insects, grass, wind, trees ...

Bananas.

She rose to her knees, carrying him with her even as she spoke in a voice like nails rolling around the inside of a steel drum. She leaned back against his chest, one hand touching her cheek affectionately, the other drifting down to rub his tight scrotum, as if to coax more seed from him. "In Nomine Patris."

Peanut butter. Oh no. Oh dear God no. He'd said he'd do anything, but not this. Please God, take it all back, take it back.

She pulled his own hand down to her sex, rubbing it against her wetness. "Et Spiritus Sancti."

He tried to pull away, desperately wanting to get away from her, but still locked by his swollen knot. What was under the white sheet? What was under the white sheet? What was under the white sheet?

He howled in anguish as she laughed, turning her hellish gaze upon the stone table.

"Et Filii."