Wereslut
Story by Muskwalker on SoFurry
Imported from SF2 with no description provided.
If there's a common thread in many of the stories I hear from weres about their experiences, it's the terror of that first time. Sometimes it takes them by surprise—imagine just going about your evening before your body convulses and starts to sprout fur at the first light of the full moon, when you never even knew you were infected. Sometimes they know it's coming, and the anticipation is even worse—will it hurt? Will you still have control of yourself, or will you be at the mercy of your animal urges?
Will you be hunted?
But there's a thing about terror, about fear—sometimes it doesn't make you run and hide. Sometimes it excites you. It makes you want more. The shiver that's meant to warn your body of danger takes on a new name: a thrill.
I live for that thrill, the thrill of a new change.
You wouldn't know it to look at me, of course. Most days of the month I'm just an average joe, late twenties, not-so-great skin, bit of extra weight around the middle—and most nights I go out hunting other werebeasts.
My goal isn't to harm them, of course. Well…not to kill them, anyway. I go out to show them a good time that they might regret later, and hope to get one myself.
Tonight was the full moon, so I knew that what I was doing would be a little more dangerous than usual. Some urges, though, you just don't deny.
His email had said he was a weretiger. That was more than a little scary: big cats can be unpredictable, and when they're wild, they're fierce.
I figured my odds were pretty good, though.
We met up in the parking lot outside Marguerite's diner and drove off in his Miata. He was younger than I expected—most weres stop aging in their thirties, but he looked a good ten years younger than that. Inexperienced, I thought. This'll be fun for him.
I was about to ask what got him interested in older guys when he jumped in first: “You're older than I thought."
“Means I've seen more. Some things you only pick up through experience."
He snorted. “I keep hearing that. Every old guy boasts about how 'years of practice' have 'sharpened their lovemaking skills', but you get 'em in bed and they don't fuck any better than anyone else."
Definitely a cat, all right. Secure in the knowledge of his superiority. Prissy, in that feline way.
“I wasn't talking about sex," I said.
“Nothing else matters," he said. “But I don't gotta agree with ya to plow your ass."
He started his change as soon as we entered his place. A were can delay their transformation—if they know what they're doing—but it does hurt; my own change was a hollow ache in the pit of my stomach that would eventually leave me sweaty and sick if I put it off for more than a day. I wagered that he probably couldn't even hold it off that long, but would pass off his sudden change as being 'cool'.
A low roar sounded from his throat as his body began to convulse, muscles seizing as they passed from one form to another. As a human, the young man wasn't built especially big, but his tiger had bulk that strained his clothes against his body.
He surged upwards nearly a foot in height, and there was the sound of tearing fabric as shirt and pants gave way, the falling scraps of cloth revealing black and yellow-brown fur striping across his body.
I looked up to watch his muzzle pushing out from his face, whiskers and sharp fangs becoming prominent. His eyes grew larger, shining in the dim light of the apartment. His ears took on new shape, thick and black and furry with patches of white.
He growled again, a far more animal sound this time as he dropped to all fours, a ripple travelling down his spine till it reached his rump, when the movement culminated in the growth of a long, striped tail lashing out.
“Ready yourself," he said, in a voice that was genuinely frightening, and as he reared back up to full height, I could see why: his tail wasn't the only length that had grown.
Now, most weres are better endowed than humans simply for the fact that most were-forms are bigger overall and their dicks grow proportionally: a were that puts on a couple of feet in height can expect to put on a couple of inches in length—and to the uninitiated ass, that's more than enough to be impressive.
But the tiger was immense. He had to be at least a foot and a half long, and more than thick; the girth was comparable to one of my thighs. It sported prominent barbs.
He laughed at my perplexity, stepping forward to loom over me. “It'd rip you apart, little human. As much as I might like to show you what it's like to be prey to a superior creature, I'll give you the gift instead."
Despite his words, the expression on his feline face definitely felt full of menace as he lifted me to his muzzle with one paw.
“Don't be too relieved, though. This is still going to hurt—a lot."
He sank his fangs into the flesh of my shoulder.
I screamed out.
Some bites are worse than others. The damage doesn't last—your body will be going through worse stuff momentarily—but even so, anything more than an inch of tooth is a whole next level of pain. Usually a were who's not trying to hurt you will convert you by sex instead, but obviously this wasn't one of the tiger's options.
I flailed helplessly in his grip as the new wereform became part of me and began trying to reprogram my body.
It wouldn't get far.
I let go of the change I'd been holding in, the rush of release blending with the pressure of transformation and the pain of the bite.
The tiger pulled me off his fangs with a growl and threw me over the couch. A massive paw on my shoulder pinned me down, his raging shaft was pressing against my ass, and the changes began.
Before anything else, I felt my body's growth—I swelled out under the tiger, thickening out till the couch began to feel tiny. His barbed cockhead popped into my growing hole and I felt him bottom out inside me after a solid, satisfying slide.
My belly kept growing. I recognized the form I was taking—and knew it'd be just the thing to piss off the cocky feline, who hadn't even noticed I was turning out more bulky than a tiger would normally be. Dark fur started spreading across my back as he started thrusting into me with growls of effort; I felt the sensation intensify as the fur flowed down over my ass, making my hide more sensitive to his movements.
Somewhere on the other side of my belly I felt my own dick changing—not into the feline shape that was currently assailing my prostate, but into a form more appropriate to the boar I was becoming: a firm corkscrew, ready to drill.
It wasn't until the brown-black fur had made its way up to my head that the tiger noticed anything was amiss, that the ears I was forming were not tiger ears, that my snout was definitely no tiger snout.
“What the fuck?" He slowed his thrusts, but didn't stop; some animal instincts are not easily derailed.
It took me a moment to answer as my tusks forced their way out, rearranging the inside of my mouth. “Surprise." With an effort, I rolled us off the couch, smashing the table in front of it and rolling on top of him. “I'd let you keep going, but I'd much rather take charge."
The tiger only remained stunned as I looked down over him. My dick, resting on his, was smaller by a long shot but still formidable. I slid back and lifted his legs over my shoulders—a sexual position, certainly, but also one that would limit his movements.
“Why aren't you—" he started. “What happened?"
Weres live in hiding. They don't get educations on wereness, and the Internet is more full of mythology than fact. What was he to think? Did he even know there were other weres than weretigers out there?
He looked up at me with fear as I slid my dick into him, but it was the wrong fear, the fear that he'd done something wrong.
Time for an education.
I started thrusting into him with a low growl. “I'm a wereboar," I said. Even though my dick was slenderer than his, his ass was tight—I probably wouldn't be able to hold back long. “I'm also a werebear, a werewolf, a werebadger, a wereskunk—quite a lot of things, really. Bit of a slut, you see."
From the look on his face, he didn't. It looked like he would even be trying to jerk himself, but his fastidious feline instincts wouldn't let him stroke his cock while it was still dirty from my ass. But he was caught up in something that almost looked like enjoyment as I fucked him.
Couldn't be having with that.
“Transmits by sex too, you see. And it'll happen to you now. Feel me drilling deep inside you, ready to fill you with my load? Know what happens when I let loose? It takes hold. It's in you. And you'll never know, when the next moon comes around, whether you'll be this—" I slapped his side, eyes on precious tiger abs and feline glory, “or this." I tapped my gut, boarish mass and masculinity of an altogether different kind—one I knew he wouldn't understand.
That brought the right fear to his eyes. I leaned forward, pinning him down with my considerable weight as I slammed into his ass hard, again and again watching him struggle, yell, and try to escape his fate, but to no avail.
With a deep grunk I hilted my screw in him and flooded him with my seed, panting. The tiger felt it—you bet your ass he did—and gave up his efforts. Too late now, after all.
Nothing breaks a guy's resistance like knowing his last assload of cum is staying with him forever. I took my time enjoying the warm tightness of his hole till I was too soft to stay inside any longer, and pulled out with a wet squelch. Boarcurse cum leaked out, dribbling onto his tail.
Probably boarcurse, anyway. It could just as easily be the whole gamut I'd acquired in my human body, if they somehow managed to cross to the boar body—who knows? I imagined the poor fucker thinking he was ready for the worst next month, and when the change came, finding the bat, or the mole, or the wolf instead.
I wouldn't be around to see it, of course; I was already leaving, and wouldn't be seeing him again.
I was a slut, after all, and there were a lot more forms out there to chase.