FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Save Point: Full Moon Night

Age Of Eversion

"It's full moon, and solstice night too, tonight," observes Cleo as they drive inward toward the city, past the remaining two of the Three Kings. "On new years eve, even. What do you think the werewolves will be doing?"

"What won't they," notes Terrowne, keeping his eyes on the road. Going unnecessarily fast is fun, but crashes are difficult to explain and cost plenty to repair. "You've seen their idea of a good party, and for this they'll cut the brake lines. There'll be vodka and formalized depravity."

"Keep off the private beaches, little girls," laughs Cleo wickedly, "else you'll get eaten out by the big bad werewolf." She grins and bares affectionately pointed teeth. "Rarrgh!"

"Oh, I doubt there'll be time for eating out," Terrowne pretends to misunderstand. "Most of the female werewolves will be trying hard to get knocked up under perfect gravitational conditions."

"You're right, I probably should stop by and lend a hand," agrees Cleo.

~*~

Far away but under the same skies, a young woman dressed in predictably black leather and sharp stiletto-pointed boots, both nipples pierced with silver (Vampyr lesbian killers! Yah!) is taking out the trash, mostly bottles of cheap chianti and spumante wines, reeking with a warm scent of yeast that trails from their mouths after being left out all night in the heat. The full moon glows high in the sky, screaming 'hunt me!' in hot silver, and all around the world is dark and quiet, traced by a faint scent of shadows and yesterdays of forgotten rain. The ground is still damp in places, and under the occasional piece of tracked in gravel.

The girl has a cap on. It says 'death!' in rounded silver letters. She has an ankh and big breasts. She has a burning cigarette in an elongate holder with which she can be burnt.

What is about to happen is necessary, to nudge events from their intended path.

Out in the gentle shadows a hard and hungry beast is prowling, a tall and sleek and deadly beast, a long and lean and tightly bound with muscle sort of beast, ears erect and long unforgiving canine fangs bared. You'd be afraid if something like that cast a look like that at you in the shower, and turned on a bit of course, as well.

Wet in the mouth with hunger, and wild at the eyes, the werewolf stalks her, getting ready to spring.

The girl bends over, baring shapely haunches as she reaches down to retrieve an errant bottle which has somehow escaped to roll across the gravelled surface, and the werewolf could be on her, but it uses the moment to get even closer, to move up behind and unsheathe its cock.

Fucking her to death takes only a surprisingly few minutes, and she cannot scream because the beautiful beast that is tearing up her insides (fucking her! her!) has its wide muzzle closed over her mouth, the teeth digging in, and all she can do is gasp and pant and try to scream into the animals hot breath. She looks about, desperately seeking help, as the creature watches her struggle, excited by her muscles straining beneath it, and forces its cock up into her, then slowly pushes it in all the way, until there is nowhere else for it to go and it's shoving against her insides. There's still a whole half foot between its high hard balls and the base of her torn pussy. Then the fun begins, as the beast starts to literally tear her open with its cock.

In the final minute, sharing its breath and screaming into its mouth, she attains acceptance of this extraordinary death and wraps her legs around the beasts narrow waist, moving with it and taking it inside her. The pain is unimaginable and she bleeds out swiftly. When the werewolf wrenches its cock out in a spray of amber, her life is already gone.

Fast forward a few minutes, until the werewolf that is not really a werewolf at all is gone, and time begins to run backward in its course, a repetition and a diversion. Blood draws inward and flows up, back into her body. Bruising fades away. Torn flesh pulls itself back together and folds neat and tight, back between her legs.

This, after all, is only the memory of someone else's death, a life she has already taken, nothing more meaningful than the staged scenes of a bad ghost story. Many worse things have happened, and she has seen and accepted them all into herself. In her blood-hot violation she is most alive.

She opens her eyes, and there is darkness there.

She opens her vulva, and the darkness is there too. Every orifice of her body is a portal into hell, a glorious damnation. The werewolf's hot seed she accepts as tribute to herself, in honor of another who accepted her, when the time came.

Before she goes, she makes sure that all the bottles are collected and stacked up neatly, and leaves the alleyway empty, under the moonlight.