FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

OK, so this is my firstattempt at yiff. Have already planned the nexttwo instalments of the series, but would like some feedback as to whether or noth i should bother finishing them ;-)

If you're disturbed by violence, sex, or crude language, please do not read this story.

They were calling it a plague. Even the journalists and reporters had stopped using the politically correct language they usually applied to sensitive issues. Most people now saw it as a plague, even some of the infected. No other pandemic had ever been treated with such extremism. The infected were shunned, and eventually forgotten about. It was taken for granted that most died in the containment areas -- the closed off ghettos where the infected were kept isolated from the rest of the populus. Most cities had containment areas now. At first people had hoped for a cure. Then the first deaths occurred. Then more. The uninfected were still unsure about transmission methods, and were becoming understandably paranoid. Then the transformations started...

The plague killed most of it's victims, but some seemed to recover. At first they seemed to offer hope -- if some people were immune to the infection, or had developed an immunity, there was hope for a vaccine. The "recovered" victims were studied for months, yielding no results. Medical experts refused to give up, working ceaselessly to find at least some sort of clue to an effective treatment or prevention. The truth was that thus far, all people knew for sure was that the disease was viral in nature, but most symptoms were so foreign and unfamiliar, that even the origins of the disease were a mystery, not to mention the actual mechanisms of the infection.

A breakthrough finally came when Doctor Adelle Pannier, a French virologist studying a group of five "survivors," found dormant viruses in the spinal fluid of her subjects. There were no signs of antibodies or any agent which may have caused the dormancy of the infection, but, as other experts soon realised, the situation pointed to only one outcome -- relapse.

It was inevitable that the survivors should start to display a second set of symptoms sooner or later. If only it had been later. Within weeks of Panier's discovery, survivors across the world began to fall ill once again. Convulsions, coupled with hallucinations, fever, hysteria, violence, and eventually, the final stage of the disease manifested globally. This was the final ammunition the extremists needed -- a last, justification for their proposed containment areas had shown itself, and most countries' governments began the construction of ghettos in their major city centres. And still, the prospects of a cure seemed unrealistic. And still, fear crushed the heart of the world.

The disease seemed to mutate in the years that followed. Those who survive the first stage (which now lasted two weeks on average), began to display the symptoms of the second stage of infection within days of their initial recovery. In most countries, once a patient had recovered from the first stage (and sometimes before then) they were taken to a containment area, and were not seen again. The plague was, in short, destroying families, economies, and the world.

Jason coughed as he walked home from college. A woman on the sidewalk next to him stopped and glared at him, an expression of confused fear and pity on her face. Jason knew why she had reacted that way, and hoped she was wrong. Coughing was the first sign. Most of the first stage of the plague resembled the flu -- headaches, fever, nausea. He hoped that he was only coming down with a cold. That was probably the case. He'd had this cough for a week, and he still had no other symptoms. Besides, the cough already seemed to be clearing.

Jason turned up his street, heading toward the apartment block where he lived.

His dad had disappeared when Jason was only 2 -- long before even the first few cases of the plague had been documented, and his mom had died the year before he went to college -- just another victim of the plague's first stage, another statistic. Jason was now 19, and in his second year of study. For a boy who had grown up without a dad, he had turned out pretty well. He was on the honour roll, and played basketball and swam. Even though he was a little short for basketball, he was well-built, and athletic, and made up for his height disadvantage with speed. As for swimming -- no-one could match his powerful backstroke.

Jason opened the front door of the building, and headed for the stairs. he was tired from swimming practice, but the elevator was out of order (as most of the facilities in the building had been for months). He lived in one of the poorer areas in the city, so no-one ever expected anything to be repaired, and nobody complained. At least rent was affordable, even on his student's budget. Jason got to his floor, walked down the dimly-lit corridor to his door, and let himself in.

Jason dropped his bag in his room and went to the bathroom. He unbuttoned his shirt, and dropped it onto the floor. He stood in front of the full-length mirror which was screwed to the bathroom wall opposite the bath, and looked at his chest, running his hand across his ribs, which were barely visible under his smooth pale skin. He placed a hand on his firm abdominal muscles, and felt how hot his skin was. He was burning up. He looked at his face -- he looked like crap. His eyes were dark, and he was visibly warn out. The fact that he hadn't been sleeping well (or at all some nights) was showing. He turned around, and began to run cool water into the bath, sat down on the edge of the bath, untied his sneakers, and took them off. He stood up, unbuttoned his jeans and let hem fall to the floor. Jason stood in his blue boxers, watching the water rise in the bath. Now that he was practically naked, he was really noticing the cold. He shivered as he ran his hand through the water to check the temperature. It was freezing, but he knew that he had to cool off. He took off his boxers, shut off the water, and stepped into the bath. His shivering intensified. The water was like ice. Slowly, he sat down, until the frigid water splashed around his waist. Goose bumps stood up over his skin -- down his arms, back, and legs. His nipples became hard, and his balls pulled up to his body as the cold water swirled around his thighs. Jason moaned gently as he cupped his balls with his right hand, trying to stop the ache which had started almost the instant they touched the water. He lay back, closed his eyes, and relaxed.

As the water swirled and washed over his hot body, he felt the fever ease, and began to relax more. He bent his knees and held his breath, lowering his head into the water, cooling his scalp, his face, his throbbing eyes. He lifted his head out of the water again, and rested it on the edge of the tub, running his hands over his chest, bathing himself with cool water. His fingers played over his hard nipples, making his scrotum contract again in sympathetic pleasure. His cock awoke, and began to enlarge as more hot blood streamed into it. The contrast of the cold water on his hot manhood intensified his erection, and he was soon holding it in the firm grip of his right hand, cupping and squeezing his balls with his left. He bent his head back as he toyed with his throbbing member, and a wave of dizziness overcame him. He was momentarily engulfed in blackness - a blacknesss which seemed almost alive, seemed to reach out for him, pulling him down deeper into unconsciousness.

His own shivers woke him an hour later. The water was like ice, and he was shaking uncontrollably. He looked down. His cock was now limp and shrunken in the cold water, and his smooth abdomen was coated in a sticky white film of semen. Obviously he had missed a very good dream, one which had left him feeling far more tired than before, and slightly, yet inexplicably violated.

Jason got out of the bath, an caught his reflection in the mirror. He was pale, and looking even more gaunt than before. He didn't know how much longer he could take this. "If I'm not better in the morning," he said to no-one in particular, as he put his clothes back on, and headed to the living room to veg in front of the TV, "I'll go to the doctor. It's just flu. Hopefully I'll be able to get something for this damned headache."

Jason's nausea made the prospect of dinner unbearble, so he decided to have an early night. As he undressed in his bedroom, the touch of his cold fingers against his burning skin made him flinch. He stroked his forehead, and felt almost instantly nauseated by the extremes of temperature. His headache was worsening, and he was starting to feel disoriented. He quickly stripped his boxers, and got into bed, covering himself with his a cold, freshly laundered sheet. He lay for a few minutes, stroking his abdominals, the curve of his pecks, his still-hard nipples, trying to make himself feel better, but soon he had fallen asleep.

Even in sleep, Jason was unwell. The darkness welled up around him as he dropped off. Like hot, wet hands, sleep groped at him. He could feel himself sinking, as the borders between the real world and his own subconscious fell away. His dark, sweaty hallucinations became discordant dreams in which something tried to invade his body.

Fingers ran over his lips. Darkness. Wet. Hands on his cheeks. hands on his back. Hands on his tight butt. Something hot, big, so much bigger than he, pressing against his back, fur. Fur under his fingers. Rippling skin underneath. Wanting to grip the fur between his fingers. Teeth in his neck. Biting. Pleasure, screaming, pain, lust filled his unquiet mind. A tongue on his cheek. Hot breath flowed over his chest, still burning with fever, setting him on fire. Arms wrapped around him in the dark, held him tightly, almost squeezing out all his breath. He felt something throbbing against his leg as a wet trail ran down towards his knee. His own member was aching from the erection which he had developed. Moaning, growling, as the teeth found his neck again, as the hot tongue caressed his shoulder. The tongue moved to his chest, found his right nipple. Gentle nibbles sent waves of excitement down his body, buckling his knees. Hands moved down. hands on his thighs, spreading his legs. Fingers moving towards his balls. Hot. Dark. Claws ran along his thighs, getting closer to his manhood on each stroke. Another hand had begun to massage his taut rear, a claw slowly making its way to his hole. As a strong, clawed hand wrapped around Jason's burning cock, squeezing hard, the pain over came him. He came powerfully, painfully, shooting ropes of hot cum into the darkness. A scream escaped his throat as one claw slipped into his hole.

Jason woke up panting in his hot, stuffy room, his sheets stuck to his wet body by sweat and drying cum. He didn't know how long he had been out, but the sleep hadn't helped at all. His mind was still fuzzy with the confused pseudoerotic scenes which he could recall from his dreams. Whatever they entailed, his memories served only to confuse him -- sex with some unidentified entity could hardly have been this draining, especially while asleep, but sure enough, he felt even more tired now than he had before he went to bed.

"That's it," he said to himslef, "Doctor time." He pulled on an old pair of jeans, a dirty T-shirt, and a coat, and set off.

The walk to the doctor was a short one -- there was a government health centre just 4 blocks from the apartment building. Because it was so early, there was nobody else in the waiting room. Jason spoke to the receptionist on duty, and went back to sit the table of magazines and tried to read an old comic which he had found. His dizziness was preventing him from focussing on any of the pages, but trying to read was better than just sitting there, powerless, and faced with the possibility of --

"You can go through," the receptionist told him, and took his hand to help him stand.

They walked into the examining room, and the receptionist turned to leave, closing the door behind her.

The doctor entered the room shortly afterwards. He was a tall man with sharp features and greying hair. "How can I help you?" He said with a thick accent which sounded Eastern European.

"I think I'm coming down with something," replied Jason. "It seems like flu."

"Let's see about that, shall we?" said the doctor. Jason felt his stomach contract.

The doctor walked over to the examination table, and gestured for Jason to sit. He checked Jason's throat and ears, took his temperature with a digital thermometre in his ear, and held a stethascope to his chest, and then his back.

"I'm going to have to do blood work," said the doctor, whose name, according to his name tag, was Markov. "Don't worry. I can have your results in 15 minutes thanks to the new rapid testing we use."

Markov walked to a cupboard across the room, and took out a small box, and a lancer. He inserted a new needle into the device as he walked back to Jason, sat down, and opened the box. He took out a small plastic tab with a hole in it, and a glass capillary tube.

"Give me your hand," he instructed. Jason obliged. Markov swabbed a finger tip, and pricked it. A drop of blood formed on Jason's skin, Markov sucked it up with the tube, and dripped it onto the plastic tab.

"While we wait, let's talk about the test I've just performed on you. It's the new rapid result test for the L19 mutagen, or the plague, as some call it now. I'm sure all your symptoms amount to is a bad cold, but we have to be safe. If your test is negative, I'll give you some pain killers and a vitamin supplement. If it's positive, however, I'll have to alert the authorities. We'll have to discuss what happens after that with them, but I'm sure you know what the treatment of the condition entails."

"Oh yes," said Jason, "I get locked in a ghetto and never see anyone again."

The doctor was silent as he stared at his watch. "Alright," he said, "Should be ready."

He picked up the plastic tab, and compared it to a diagram on the side of the box from which he had taken it. His expression hardened. Jason knew what this meant.

"I have it, don't I?" he asked.

"The test is positive, yes."

"Well do it again!" shouted Jason.

"It gives no false positives."

"Bullshit! do it again!"

"I cannot, by law, perform the test on you again without a government official present. I have to make a phone call." The doctor left the examining room.

Jason sat on the table, shocked. His mouth was dry and his head spinning. He felt unreal somehow. This couldn't be happening to him. He couldn't have the plague. They would take him away. He'd never see anyone he cared about again. The test had to be wrong. He had to be dreaming. That was it! He was still asleep, having a crazy fever dream. He'd wake up soon enough. He closed his eyes, and felt his consciousness drifting. He din't even notice when the doctor came back with a government official in tow.

"Mr Davis, we can perform another test now." Doctor Markov swabbed and pricked Jason's finger again, and the official collected the blood, and dropped it into a small phial. "We'll be testing this at our labs, and will have the results to you by noon tomorrow." he said. "Until then, we have to discuss your handling. You don't have to be contained just yet, but if the test is positive, you will be collected from your home an hour after you receive the results of your test. I suggest you prepare for that eventuality, as the rapid tests have an accuracy of over 98 percent."

Jason stared at him blankly.

"Very well, you will be hearing from me tomorrow," said the official, and left the room.

Back at home, Jason decided to go to bed. He had no strength to do anything else. He fell asleep quickly, and had no dreams.

The next day, he awoke with his front door being broken down, and the sounds of voices approaching his room. Jason jumped out of bed.

"No!" he screamed, heading for the door. "You're not taking me!" The door burst open, and two men came in. One grabbed him, while the other pressed a needle into Jason's arm. "No! what are you doing?" he shouted, just as the world began to get dark.

He woke up in a small room devoid of furnishings other than the small bed on which he was lying, and the table which stood next to it. There was a small yellow booklet on the table. Jason got up to examine it, bracing himself against a wall to keep from falling over again. The room was brightly lit, as there were no curtains, and the sun shone directly through the window. Jason stumbled to the table, noticing that a large black nylon bag had been left at the foot of the bed. He picked up the book and read the words printed on the construction paper cover: "Containment Facility D98-A: Rules and Regulations." He threw the booklet back onto the table, and walked slowly towards the black bag. He knelt next to it, and unzipped it. It held all the clothes he had had in the cupboard in his apartment.

The reality of his situation hit him like a wall -- this was it, his life. He would be here until he died. He didn't even know how things worked, how he would survive. He was lost, he was afraid, he was doomed. He couldn't stay here. He had to leave, had to go. Go anywhere away from this small room which was really nothing more than a prison cell. Was he even allowed to leave? He ran to the door and turned the handle. The door swung open, and Jason ran down the Dark corridor it revealed. He reached a flight of stairs, and sprinteed down them, nearly falling as he went. He came to a dirty, run-down lobby, and continued to sprint towards the double doors at it's far end. He flung the doors open, and ran into the street outside.

The place seemed almost deserted. One or two people lay on the sidewalk, not far from where Jason stood hyperventilating. A few more were walking down or across the street completely randomly. Jason felt as if he had been dropped into another world. His chest tightened, and he began to run again, turning down any street which seemed less disturbing than the one before. Eventually he found himslef in a secluded alley way, and braced himself against the cold brick wall to keep his balance. He was about to start running again, when the darkness came once more, not slowly this time, but in one black, cold crushing wave. He collapsed onto the road.

He heard a scraping noise to his left as his consciousness returned. He was lying on a blanket in the middle of a large, warm room. It was dimly lit, and the light seemed to have a moving quality to it, which could only mean that it came from a fire near by. He looked in the direction from where he had heard the sound before. Crouched over a fire was a figure who seemed to be stirring the contents of a small pot. Jason, still confused, and very afraid, move to get up. His arms gave way underneath him, and he fell to the floor again. The figure at the fire, hearing Jason's attempts to lift himslef, turned around, and moved cautiously towards him.

Jason saw that it was a man, young, mid twenties, he'd say, with untidy black hair and light grey-blue eyes. He was of average build, about Jason's height, and the tight shirt he wore showed clearly defined muscles under his tanned skin. Even though Jason didn't know him, the kind expression on this stranger's face set him instantly at ease.

"Welcome back to the world," said the man, smiling. "Feeling any better?"

"Same as always, I suppose," said Jason. "Um..." he hesitated, unsure of what exactly to ask first. "Where am I?"

"You must be very confused," said the man. "Let me explain. You're in a deserted office building in Containment Facility D98-A. I assume you're here because you're infected. As for how you get to this building, I found you collapsed in an alley not far from here as I was coming home. I didn't know where your assigned living quarters were, but i guess, like most people, you've figured out that that's not a good place to stay, so I brought you here."

"What do you mean, 'not a good place to stay'?" asked Jason, still trying to make sense of everything he'd just heard.

"When did you get here?" asked the stranger, answering Jason's question with another question.

"I don't know. I couple of days ago at most. Time isn't exactly something i've been keeping track of."

"Ah," said the stranger, seeming to understand. "Well, I suppose you must have left pretty soon after you arrived. If you'd stuck around, you would have had your first inspection. The department sends guys out every week to check up on the infected. Basically, to see if you're still you. If they find you any... different, well, let's just say you won't be having any more inspections."

Jason was shocked, but not particularly surprised. He had wondered why the stories of mutation he had heard were always sketchy, and never seemed resolved. He'd supposed that the infected, and their mutated counterparts all lived in the ghettos together, but from what he had heard about the transformations, he should have known that that idea was preposterous.

"So, who are you?" asked Jason, after taking a while to process his new thoughts.

"My name's Michael," replied the stranger. "I've been here for about three months now." Jason looked surprised at this.

"What? aren't you --"

"Infected?" asked Michael. "Yes, but I've been lucky. The transformation hasn't happened yet. I suppose it will with time. It always does. But for now, I'm just trying to survive here."

Jason looked forlorn. The reality of his new life, or new existence, as this couldn't be called a life, kept hitting him. How was he supposed to survive? At least he knew he wouldn't have to do so for much longer.

"Don't worry," said Michael. "I'm here for you now, and if anything happens, we'll look after each other. You can't do this alone. I've seen people try, and I've seen them fail... Anyway, enough of this depressing talk. Part of survival is keeping your spirits up. Here," Michael walked back to the fire, and picked up the pot. He put it down in front of Jason, and removed two spoons from his pocket. "Have some soup."

Jason was ravenous, and had quickly eaten half the soup. He stopped to let Michael have some.

"It's ok," said michael. "I have a lot more food, and food stamps. Not mine, of course. I haven't been back to my assigned room since I left it two months ago, but there are still ways of getting stamps, and whatever else you need, because even getting food at the handout points can be dangerous. This place is like prison -- a lot of people have contacts in high places. So please, eat more."

Jason was happy to oblige, and quickly finished the rest of the rich vegetable soup.

"Thanks," he said shyly.

"No problem," replied michael, reaching out a hand to stroke Jason's forearm. Jason was surprised by how comfortable he was with this gesture. Usually he wasn't into physical contact, but with Michael, it felt OK.

"You still look worn out," said Michael, looking concerned. "Maybe you should go back to bed."

"Maybe," said Jason, and lay down. MicHael lay down beside him, and covered them both with a blanket which had been lying folded next to the makeshift bed. Jason rolled over with his back to Michael. Michael rolled onto his side as well, facing Jason's back, and put an arm around him. Jason was slightly disconcerted by how comforting another man's arm around him felt, but was too tired to worry about that, and he soon fell asleep.

As time passed, Jason and Michael greew closer. Michael was an ever-present protective force, which was something that Jason knew he needed. Regardless of the harsh lifestyle into which he had ben thrown, Jason was, at heart, still a kid. Having someone to show him the ways of the containment facility, which he was sure would have killed him otherwise, was something that Jason was immensely grateful for. Michael introduced him to contacts who could get him practically anything, for a price, naturally. Jason learnt how to find food, where he could spend a safe night alone occasionally, and how to survive the gang wars which raged constantly in the facility.

The politics of conatinment were similar to those of life on the outside -- rival gangs formed quickly, and because even guns were available through certain corrupt officials, deaths in the ghetto were a common occurance. Of course, only the unmutated inmates formed gangs. Even though mutants were rarely spotted in the daylight hours, there were stories about them which every inmate had heard. Some even swore that they had spotted mutants roaming the street at night. Most, however, had only vague discriptions of what would happen to them to go by, as anyone who had actually seen a transformation had been either killed by the newly formed mutant, or transformed shortly thereafter themselves.

What most people had heard was that once mutation began, the infected person had only a few hours of humanity left, three hours seemed the maximum. The process was a painful one. Many people, Jason included, had heard screams late at night; screams which slowly became inhuman, animalistic, and eventually developed into howls. The body of the mutating person would slowly change, growing hair, increasing in muscle mass, his face would elongate, teeth would enlarge, and eventually, the new animal that he had become would take over completely -- he would be, in short, something resembling far too closely, a werewolf. This similarity bred all kinds of legends amongst the inmates -- that if a mutant bit someone, that person would transform within hours, and that the only way to kill a mutant was with silver bullets. Some even swore that they had shot or stabbed mutants, and that they had seemed completely impervious to the attcks. Jason was so confused by most of these strories, he didn't know what to believe. He didn't even know if he bought the stories about the actual transformation. All that he knew for sure was that it was no party -- he had heard the screams in the back alleys late at night.

Michael was constantly reassuring in the face of Jason's persistant fear. It had been over a month, and Jason had yet to show any chages. At least the first stage of his infection had cleared -- his fever had broken the day after he had met Michael, and even his headaches had cleared up. The only remaining symptom (and he wasn't even sure it had anything to do with his infection) was the dream which would invade his mind when ever he slept -- the darkness which tried ceaselessly to fill his body.

"I've had them as well," Michael told Jason after he had told him about the dreams. It was a cold night, and they were back in the office building where Michael had taken him that first night. "It's as if something is trying to get... inside."

"Exactly," said Jason. "It must have something to do with the infection then."

"Probably does," said Michael. "It's not like anything else about this disease is normal."

"Right," said Jason, massaging his temples. His headaches had worsened again, and he seemed to have hit a particularly bad patch.

"Tired?" asked Michael, stroking Jason's shoulder.

"Yup, and I have a bad headache."

"Well, it's late anyway. I think it's time we turned in," suggested Michael, unfolding their blanket, and leaning over to cover Jason. Jason lay down, but couldn't seem to shake the feeling of dread which was slowly creeping up on him. His headache was worsening by the minute, and he could feel the dizziness approaching once more. When he lay down next to Michael, he could feel the same dreadul darkness seeping up from the depths of his mind, groping at his body, pulling him into sleep.

He lay in the hot, wet blackness, waiting. He knew it would come. It always did. A hand on his back. A hand, but not a human hand. He felt claws on his skin. The light hair covering his legs, arms, and neck stood instantly to attention as the claws stroked gently up his spine. They moved down again, retracing the lines they had drawn up his back. He felt hot breath on his neck, rippling over his shoulders. The breathing intensified, as did his own. The claws now began to move to his shoulder blades, and soon, they had moved to the front of his body, where they found his nipples. Large, muscular, hairy arms were wrapped around his body now. A pair of sharp claws played with each nipple, which was already hard. The breath on his neck became warmer, wetter, as a muzzle drew nearer to the delicate skin. A tongue emerged from the sharp fangs the muzzle held, and licked the side of Jason's neck, just below his ear. The sheer horror of the thought of being defiled by some unknown beast -- the embodiment of his infection -- was completely overwhelmed by the pleasure which the hot, wet tongue had sent coursing through Jason's body, causing his scrotum to contract, and ripples of electric excitment to find his cock, and begin to harden it painfully.

The tongue continued to lap at Jason's sweaty skin, moving slowly upward, finding his ear lobe. Sharp teeth nibbled gently at his ear, and moved away once more. The claws moved now to Jason's hips, and as the hands began to squeez and massage his pelvis, the tongue moved down to Jason's shoulder. It licked fiercely, abrasively, almost painfully at his skin, as the hands began to massage his ass cheeks, pulling them gently apart every now and then. A claw found Jason's hole, which clenched with his surprise. The claw circled the circumference of his tight anus, gently relaxing it, but sending wave upon wave of painful excitement to his cock, which was now throbbing, and glistening with its first few dribbles of precum. The claw was inserted into Jason's hole, which clenched tightly shut around it. His cock convulsed, and spurted a large dollop of pre. Even though he was enjoying the experience, Jason tried to suppress a scream at the thought of having his virgin hole raped by a creature which he couldn't even see.

The claw in his anus began to move again, circling more aggressively now. Soon Jason's hole had relaxed enough to allow another claw entry. The combination of anal stimulation and the constant licking at his shoulder and neck was maddening -- he wanted nothing more than for the creature to grab his cock in its clawed fist, and jerk his manhood until the throbbing stopped with a spurt of hot cum, but he also didn't want the claws to leave his hole. He moaned, and pressed himself towards the hand behind him, pressing the claws deeper into his hot insides. A third claw found his hole, and was quickly and forcefully pressed into it. Jason gasped in ecstacy, as his ass opened up completely, ready to be pounded.

Jason now felt a hard, hot, pulsating, furry object pressed against his back. He reached behind him, and felt a swollen sheath throbbing and enlarging in his hand. At its base he felt an increased swelling. He supposed that this creature must be built a lot like a dog, if a knot was already forming at the base of its cock. Jason began to stroke the sheath, sliding the furry skin over the hard swelling it contained. The licking at his shoulder was quickly replace with a gentle nibbling. Jason bent over, and rubbed the tip of the slippery penis which had begun to protrude from the sheath against his wet and gaping hole. The creature needed no further encouragement. It wrapped its huge arms around Jason's waist, pulling him closer to itself. It continued to bite his shoulder softly as it inserted the head of its penis into him. The heat and girth of the member invading Jason's assmade him clench tightly around it. The creature's biting intensified as it pushed past Jason's contraction, impaling him on its massive shaft. Claws dug into Jason's sides as the creature began to ride him. Jason could feel his rectum being torn as the beast delivered thrust upon thrust, digging its claw deeper, and bitng harder with each motion. Jason could feel the creature's knot forming, as it pulled and pushed past his contracting, painfully stretched sphincter. He could also feel the warm sensation of the beast's precum lubricating his hole, increasing his own sensitivity.

Eventually, Jason felt himslef tied to the beast, as each outward motion pulled his hips sychronously with the creature's. Jason heard howl-like yelps as the animal's cock was forced deeper and deeper into him. His own cock throbbed with each thrust as he neared climax. With one final thrust, the monster dug his claws into Jason's delicate flesh, and bit down hard on his shoulder. Jason felt blood run down his chest and back. The pain of the bite was completely overshadowed by the immense explosion of cum in his anus. The creature thrust deeply, holding Jason's now limp body to it's own furry torso as it shot load upon load of hot cum into his bowels. Jason screamed...

His own screams woke him. Pain. Unbelievable pain was racing through his body. His skin felt as if it was on fire. Michael lay behind him. When Jason noticed that he had been grinding his butt against Michael's crotch, he stopped, regaining some composure, which was difficult, since he felt as if his head was about to split open and spill its contents onto the cold concrete floor.

"Jason! Jason, what's wrong?!" asked Michael, worried.

"I'm... help... I'm ch--" muttered Jason, through his sobs. They both knew what was happening, but neither wanted to admit it. This couldn't be... not now.

Jason rolled onto his back and screamed as another flash of seering pain bolted through his body. His skin itched and burned, his eyes hurt, his very bones ached. As he arched his back in agony, he screamed again, but this time, the voice was not his own.

"Michael, you have to go," he moaned, but Micael would not hear it.

"I'm staying. I love you."

"NO!"

"I won't leave you. Not now."

"Please, I can't --" Jason screamed again, feeling his skin burst open from the pain. It couldn't be -- He looked down and saw that his hands were contorted, and growing hair. His arms were bulging, and thick black fur was sprouting on them. "I'm going to --" This time, he howled, no longer a human voice at all, but the howl of a wolf.

He could feel the skin on his face stretching. He reached up to touch his mouth, and saw that his hands had become more paws than anything else, and that claws had grown over his nails. He felt his face, and to his horror, felt that the lower half was elongating. His jaws were forming into a muzzle.

His clothes had become too tight for his bulging muscles, and he tore at them with his claws. He managed to rip his pants, and most of his shirt off, except for one sleeve, which soon burst at the seam dut to the pressure exerted on it by his bicep. His entire body now seemed covered in thick fur. Only his legs were still vaguely human-like, yet they had become furry.

He howled again as his facial muscles and bones twisted into their final position. Already, he could feel the darkness filling him again. This time, however, he wasn't sleepy. Now he knew -- the creature which had raped him in his dream had not only fucked him, it had become him. Even as he looked at his bewildered and frightened friend, he felt urges foreign to him rise to the surface of his conscious mind. He wanted to --

He coudn't. He had to control himself. He was human. Humans didn't... He had to. The urge, his need was too great.

"Michael," he growled. The sound he made was barely recognisable as English.

Michael shuddered, yet reached out to touch him.

Before he knew what he was doing, before he could censor his actions, Jason grabbed Michael's arm, and pulled him towards himself. He turned him around roughly, and pushed him to the ground, pinning his shoulders to the floor. Michael turned his head to try to face Jason. The sight of his exposed, vulnerable neck was too much for Jason to resist. Jason tore at the fabric of Michael's shirt, ripping the thin cloth from his body. He bent down and sunk his teeth into Michael's upper arm. Michael screamed in pain as Jason bit him again and again. He climbed onto Michael's soft body, digging his knees into his back, still biting his arms and shoulders. He lowered his head further, and tore a chunk of flesh out of his side. As he chewed on the bloody hunk of meat in his jaws, he felt his sheath swelling between his muscular legs. He reached down with a clawed hand and began to massage it along with his greatly enlarged balls. The tip of his hard pink penis, already glistening with pre, emerged from the tip of his sheath. He reached down, and pulled Michael up by the hips, raising his ass, and sinking his claws into his skin as he did so. He tore and bit at michael's pants until he had formed a hole exposing his clenched sphincter. He once more took hold of his own sheath, and slid back the skin, exposing his veined canine shaft completely. Without any hesitation, he plunged its pointed tip into Michael's hole. He screamed again as the wolf tore his rectum apart. Jason looked down as he pulled out his cock, and saw that it was covered in blood. This served only to excite him even further. Slashing at michael's back with his sharp claws, he began to thrust into him mercilessly. With each thrust, his knot grew larger, until it became difficult to pull out of michael at all, and each time he succeded, it would be accompanied by a wet slurping noise, and would be follwed by more of michael's screams as Jason forced his ever-enlarging penis into his bleeding hole.

Jason could feel himself approaching orgasm. Michael was now whimpering quietly on the floor, held up only by Jason's strong arms. As Jason began to climax, he pulled Michael's motionless body close to his own, and sunk his shining white fangs into his neck. Blood filled his mouth, pushing him completely over the edge. He came in hot sticky waves, filling michael to such an extent that the thick chunky semen splashed onto the gtround below them in great white and red globs. Jason though that his coming would never end. With each wave, each spurt, each thrust, he bit down into Michael's neck, until eventually the powerful spurting of blood ceased, and Jason collapsed, entirely spent, but still bound to Michael's motionless body by his engorged cock.

After a few seconds, the reality of what he had done overcame him like a flood of iced water, shrinking his erection instantly. He stood up, and looked at the bloody, lifeless heap at his feet. What had he done?

He turned away, revolted at the sight, and screamed. His howl echoed through the empty room, and frightened him. Panicked, he turned and ran to the door. He had to leave. Had to run. Away from this place, away from Michael, away from himslef... He could not stay. Not any more.