Following the Feral Side
#65 of The Moonrise Chronicles
I pushed this out rather fast, so I apologize for any spelling errors. It's a bit short, but it links to the next one, which will take a little longer to write. I think...it's hard to say with me.
Edward,
or rather the creature that had been Edward was having the time of his life. He
had chased and caught his female offering with ease. He even let her go just to
enjoy the pursuit once more. This was what life was about. Little sister might
be right about a lot of things, but he didn't care. His body wanted to breed
and this female was fertile and ready.
He
hardly noticed the crowd following him. He knew they were there, and they were
all female. Good for them! But they had to wait their turns. He was big and
strong, but there was only one of him and they would have to wait their turn.
What he
didn't know was that they already knew the game. One female under a mindless
(or nearly mindless) male could suffer irreparable harm. They knew nothing of
the ring for now, knowing that only the alpha had such protection. This male
was much larger than most and quite capable of inflicting harm if not suitably
distracted.
Mortalia
was not able to get far on her second run. His aroma was having its effect and
after a few hundred yards she collapsed against a tree. He was right behind her
and with a growl, impaled her with the biggest cock she had ever felt. At first
it was as if it was going to tear her apart, but she sensed her body adjusting
to cope with the sudden intrusion. It was going to be one hell of a ride!
He
thrust into her with all the compassion of a man spearing a fish. He had been
holding back for a while, and his little pet bear had been a fun distraction,
but this was getting down to business. He bit the back of her neck and held on
with a terrible strength. The only way she could get free now was to tear her
own flesh. It was amazing how nature had created the scent immobilization. I
guess nature figured there was going to be enough damage to one portion of the
body, why make it more?
Eventually
she slid down the trunk onto the ground, dangling from between his jaws and his
hips. She knew the routine, but this male was well beyond any sensible
boundaries. He seemed to be torn between mating with her and devouring her. She
decided after a while that she loved it.
His
cock was a swollen, red-hot invasion into her privacy, forcing the walls of her
tunnel aside and pressing her internal organs to one side or another. She was
pretty sure his tip was being forced into her uterus. She hoped the ring
worked, for there would be no benefit from getting pregnant when your womb was
a mangled mess.
Edward
was in seventh heaven. This was a lot better than the bear he had captured. For
one thing, this female smelled right and felt even better. As his knot filled in
the nonexistent gap, he carried her over to a fallen tree and draped her over
it. He let go of her neck and let out a roar. He could still sense the other
females lurking in the shadows. His feral mind knew what they wanted.
It was
funny how it didn't matter what they wanted. It was what he wanted. He was
supreme here, not that old shriveled up husk of a human. She was past the
breeding age and therefore useless to him or to anyone. When he was done this
would all be his! He would take out that nobody and reign over everything.
But
first things first. He was working over this female like she was a piece of
meat and his cock was the tenderizer. It was nearly the same treatment Maggie
had withstood on the plane, only more so. His behavior had gone over to being
without care or compassion, even more than a breeding should induce. He seemed
to have no mind to fall back on, no morals to rely upon, and no memory of who
he once was. If the ladies didn't get him straightened out and soon, he was
going to go full rage and no one was going to stop him. Ring or no ring, he had
no fear of anything or anyone.
Mortalia,
as she was called, was one of the granddaughters of the tsarina. The females
congregated together for protection, and when the breeding urge came over them,
they were occasionally stuck without a male. Today's offering was far and again
above the normal fare, and a lot of the ladies were drooling in anticipation.
The chances were always good that when one werewolf was ready , they all were
close. His aroma was touching off fires in more than one belly.
Edward
was happily molesting, raping, pounding, screwing and otherwise fucking this
female into a submissive lump of flesh. It hardly mattered to him if she
survived. That wasn't in his present nature. It was breeding and only the
strong survived it. He only wanted strong females to give him strong cubs.
And
yet...
Somewhere inside his head, nestled among the
urges and the needs, was a little spark of intelligence. It was centered around
a small mass of metal, silver in fact, that was now completely cut off from the
rest of his body by a hard coating. There was no doubt that his brain had been
scrambled for the evidence was clear.
And yet it was physically back together, in need of a serious reboot.
The problem was, like any computer, it needed to be shut down, and there was no
way he was going to have that happen. In his present form his body was flowing
with chemicals and when he was finished with one female, there was always going
to be another. He could go for days unending.
Maggie and her great aunt were
discussing what they might have to do. "My dear child, unless that bullet is
removed, he will continue on in his aggressive way, probably getting worse and
worse just like the Beast."
It turns out that little bit of
history was well known among the Kind. She was impressed that Edward came from
such good stock, but she also knew that sometimes the stronger the "were" the
more danger there was on losing the humanity. Edward was proving this out.
Maggie wasn't convinced. "He would
have been fine if those jerks hadn't shot at us. He's just not normally like
this."
"The key word, my dear, is
normally. He was this way with you once before. He's still developing as a
werewolf, or as the peasants call us; wawkalak or bordak. Silly, stupid notions
from silly stupid people." She sighed. "No, I think his mind has been in flux,
going from one side to another, and the bullet disrupted this and flipped to
the feral side only. The only way is to remove the bullet and restore the
process."
"And can you guarantee this won't
kill him?"
"I think that trying this will be
more likely to kill us than him. He has developed some unnatural immunity to
silver right now. It's impossible, but it's the only way he could be surviving
with silver in his body. The fluke of his previous existence means nothing now.
The silver will kill him eventually."
"I agree with you, but what do you
suggest?"
"As heartless as it sounds, I'd
suggest that we allow him to get tired out mating. I don't care how big and
tough he is, he will run out of energy eventually. Even a ring doesn't protect
against poor nutrition. When he is weary, we split his head open with an ax and
remove the bullet. With a ring back on his finger he should heal up just fine."
Maggie winced. "I don't think I can
do it. If someone else does, I'll be fine with it. But if he dies, I don't want
it to be by my hand."
"Your compassion speaks highly of
you dear, but there will be times when you will not be able to allow your feelings
to govern your motives. If we cannot get him restored then he is better off
dead, for everyone's sake."
Maggie was boiling up with anger.
She knew the old woman was essentially correct, but she wasn't about to give up
on him. Somewhere inside that massive furry body was her father and lover. If
he died, then so would she. She trembled with sorrow at the thought of losing him.
If there was a way of saving him, she would do it. She stepped outside to clear
her head.
She found where he was and sat,
watching him from afar. She was horny, probably a side effect of all the
estrogen floating around from the mass of fertile females. She was mildly
jealous of them. They could have what she couldn't. On the other hand, they
could take what he was giving and she knew that the only way she would survive
was with two rings. It just wasn't fair.
She heard a sound and turned. It
was the old woman. "It's quite the sight, isn't it? Even now, in my older
years, I can still feel stirrings deep inside when there is a mating. How are
the ladies handling him?"
"I can't
say for certain, but I think it's still the first one."
"Oh! Good for Mortalia. She must be
shoring up well to his abuse, or the others would have separated them."
"That's possible?"
"Of course, if one knows which
buttons to push. Come along child, we might as well wait this out in comfort.
It may take days before he tires out enough to be dealt with."
Maggie stayed for a little while longer,
listening to the screams and snorts, the bellows and the roars that filled the woods.
That should be her under him, not these country bumpkin hussies. If she got him
back, and back all the way, she was going to show him what breeding was all
about. She sniffed the air one last time and went back to the hideout.
The woman was looking at her, full
of concern. "Tell me dear, how old are you now?"
Maggie looked embarrassed. "I'm not
really sure. I celebrate my birthday on the thirteenth of May, but the orphanage
didn't have any paperwork along those lines. So I guess I think about twelve or
thirteen. It's kind of fuzzy."
"Hmmmm. You had your first
transformation that early?"
"When should I have had it?"
The woman smiled. "Here I am
talking about it like I know so much. I didn't transform until just before I
was killed, and only thanks to Gregori. But if you turned on account of a full
moon, you should be in your late teens, maybe even older. There are so many
variables to having this; uhm, condition."
"So what are you saying?"
"That maybe you're older than you
appear?"
"I doubt it. I seem to remember my
childhood pretty well."
"I'm just saying. You seem to have
longings for things that you should not long for. Being a child is tough enough
without throwing adult desires into the mix."
Maggie snapped. "Look! I don't care
if we're related or not; shut up! I happen to love him, both as my father and
as my lover. It's bad enough that I have to share him when, or rather if we get
home. I'm tired of sharing him, and with him being killed and resurrected and
shot and freaking out. I just want to have him back. I never thought that I
would say this, but I'd like a little peace and tranquility. I want to have him
under the covers. I want him inside me. I was to take him and love him like he
has never been loved before. But how can I do that with everyone trying to get
in the way!"
"Child! Calm down. If you love him
so much, then maybe there is hope for him. But I must reiterate; the bullet
must come out or you will never have a chance at happiness again." She picked
up a woodsman's broad ax. "This should do the trick. I'd suggest we attack from
two fronts. You from the rear and me from the side. You must cleave his head open
and I will slip the ring on his finger. We will have to work quickly to succeed.
Can you do it?"
Maggie shivered. "I'll try. I'd
rather take it in my own skull than to chop open his. I'm only doing this for
his sake."
"My dear, you will be doing this
for all of our sakes. If he is left unchecked, he may very well go on a rampage
the likes the world has not seen in decades. He could very well turn into a
one-were killing machine. They might slow him down, but I doubt very much that
short of the total annihilation of his general vicinity, the present government
has very little at its disposal that would do much good."