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[center]His Wolf Part 2 - by A. A. Samuel[/center]

Sam was in the forest. Wind rustled the trees. It was night, but perhaps nearing dawn. Sam looked down at himself. He looked normal. His clothes looked normal. He tried to remember what he'd been doing before the forest, how he'd gotten here . . .

A semi blew past on the freeway, honking its prodigious horn. Sam spun toward the sound. Freeway? There was no freeway here. He peered around, but saw no sign of roads of any kind. He heard only the forest. Crickets chirped.

Sam explored the forest, walking through it, staring around himself. He saw streams and rocks, ferns and fallen logs. He heard animals, saw flickers of movement in the trees, but . . . never quite caught [i]sight[/i] of another creature—silhouettes of fluttering wings in the treetops, blurs of motion at the corners of his eyes—all of them had gone by the time he focused on them. Other things came and went as well: out of place sounds, like the semi, or scenes, like an empty recliner arranged before a flickering television set, right there in the woods, by itself, functioning without apparent electricity.

Sam wondered if he should find this eerie. He couldn't seem to tell.

He continued on, walking, walking alone, until he looked around and noticed he'd reached somewhere familiar. No, more than that, he was back where he'd started. Those were the same trees, in the same positions, with the same markings. Could he really have walked in a circle?

Sam put the eastern predawn glow on his left and set off again. He wasn't sure where he was going or what he hoped to find, but he obviously couldn't reach his goals by going nowhere at all. South would do, for now.

After a remarkably short interval, Sam found himself once more between the same four trees—arriving from the same angle, no less. It wasn't so much as if he'd gotten himself turned around as it was like . . .

. . . the forest had looped, like the edge of a game screen.

Sam blinked. The realization didn't upset him. It didn't even really confuse him. In fact, it rather made everything make more sense.

This must be [i]that[/i] forest. He must've . . . what, been asleep, and woken up here? That seemed a little odd, but less so than most of the other things he'd experienced in the last two days. He wasn't worried.

He wondered if [i]she[/i] were here.

Not three steps later, Sam looked up from working his way around a particularly persistent holly tree, and there she was.

Or, well, no. It was a creamy-white wolf, not a wolf-woman, lying sprawled in lazy contentment, sleeping happily. Maybe it was her, and maybe not.

Sam peered at her, tiptoeing closer. Some of her fur was wet. A clear, thick substance seemed to be dribbled over parts of her face and chest as well as all over her hindquarters, under her tail- . . .

Sam realized what he was looking at. Shame, arousal, and disgust washed over him in a squirming cocktail.

"Hey," he said aloud. His own voice sounded strange, almost echo-y in this unnatural forest. When the wolf didn't move, Sam repeated himself, louder. He resisted the urge to kick the sleeping creature. He wasn't sure why it was so important to him that she wake up, but he knew it was.

After about the fourth "hey"—this one nearly a shout—the sleeping wolf finally stirred and blinked at him. Rolling to lay upright on her belly, she regarded him with a doggish smile and lazy, laughing eyes.

"Oh, it's you," she said. It was [i]her[/i]. She sounded no different from her wolf-woman voice.

Even here in this weird forest, Sam reeled at watching a dog actually talk. A werewolf was impossible to begin with, so when their canine mouths formed human words, it seemed no stranger than their existence in the first place, but this was just a wolf, no matter what she had in her fur. It made no sense that her lips, throat, and tongue should be able to form human words, but somehow she managed.

Sam stared at her.

"You've been having sex," he found himself saying, tossing the words down between them like evidence of a crime. "In my body."

She cocked her head at him and languidly stretched, dog-style, first back legs, then front.

"It's my body, and I'll fuck who I please." Her tone was almost cheerful.

"No!" Sam shouted at her. Without transition, he found himself angry. "Get out of here! You're not welcome!"

The creamy, fluffy wolf flopped back down on her belly, tongue lolling out with doggish amusement. "Look who's learned to bark," she drawled. "But that doesn't make me any less in charge here." She shook her canine head. "You heard Jake. You and I are supposed to be the same person. I was just born, so it can't be [i]my[/i] fault if we're not."

She bent to lick some of the mess from her fur, with every appearance of enjoying the taste. Sam gaped, unsure whether to feel sick or horny.

"Clearly," she said, "you're the crazy one. All the more reason to let me handle things from here."

"How would you feel if [i]I[/i] made [i]you[/i] have sex against your will?" Sam managed to demand.

She snuffed in disdain. "As if you could," she said. "I'd simply command you to be impotent."

"No," he insisted again, though even to himself, he sounded more pleading this time than angry. Could she do that? Did she have such power over him? "You can't," he insisted. He wished he was sure.

She seemed to laugh at him, though she made no sound. Then, "I can do anything I like with my body," she said. "Just watch me."

In a single motion, she stood and . . . left.

Sam stared at the place where she'd been. What had he seen? In the space of two blinks, it was like she'd stepped through a beaded curtain, or a dimensional portal, or . . .

He walked around the empty air where the wolf had disappeared. Sam had blinked, and there'd been a . . . something—whatever it was she'd walked through. He'd blinked again, and everything had vanished, including the wolf. He poked at the place where the door-like-thing had been, tried to walk through it. Nothing. Just air. She was gone.

"Mornin' Gorgeous," Jake said. His voice came as if from far away and behind a wall of cotton. Languid laughter followed.

Phantom sensations ghosted along Sam's sides, affectionate nails through fur he didn't have. It felt nice, except that Sam shouldn't have been feeling anything at all. He spun in circles, attempting to locate the source of all this.

Instead of finding anything, Sam heard Jake again, still far away, still laughing. "Ready for breakfast?"

"I've got something right here," came [i]her[/i] voice, low and sultry, teasing.

A heartbeat later, Sam felt oddly as if he had something in his mouth. He began to panic.

Jake's voice again: "You want [i]more?"[/i] He sounded incredulous, but pleased.

More of the phantom caresses brushed over Sam's sides and chest, followed by an odd sense of being pushed backward.

"Uh-uh, Sammie, not so deep," Sam heard Jake say, breathless and regretful. "We'll neither one of us like it if I knot in your throat. Oh yeah, tongue's good." Happy panting, more of the strange fullness in Sam's mouth. "Tongue's [i]real[/i] good."

They were having sex again. [i]Again![/i] And this time Sam wasn't even [i]watching helplessly[/i] inside his own body. He was . . . stuck in this forest, the mind forest. Why . . .

Why [i]had[/i] he woken up here, instead of the real world?

A chill blew through him. He was in danger. Sam realized for the first time that he could lose himself to this wolf-woman, forever. He had to do something, but what?

Jake, laughing, "If you want my knot in your mouth that bad, you've gotta turn human. No fangs."

And Sam found himself horny again. He couldn't help it. She really could just have her way with his body as she saw fit. He looked down at himself.

Without transition, he'd become naked, hard as bone. He realized he had been for some time, though he couldn't guess just how long.

He realized he'd seen changes like this before, too, as he wandered the forest. The recliner had disappeared when he looked away from it, Sam now recalled, and he hadn't even noticed until now. And there [i]had[/i] been a freeway, hadn't there, until he'd remembered there wasn't one and then it had never been.

A part of Sam wanted to be confused by this, even frightened, but . . . he wasn't.

This was a place of the mind. It made sense that it appeared however the mind wanted it to appear. Desire and pleasure had made Sam expect nudity, so nudity had happened while he wasn't looking.

And if that was true . . .

Sam ignored a muffled jolt of pleasure to his nipple, the distant sounds of Jake's ecstasy, the weird, wonderful fullness Sam had come to associate with having a cock-stuffed cunt. He stared hard at the air before him, brow knitting. Awkwardly, feeling stupid, Sam . . . willed a door to appear before him. He visualized it coalescing in the air, right before his eyes, even adding imaginary special effects and sounds.

Nothing happened. Sam cursed, bit his lip to keep concentrating against the lust and pleasure.

No, it made sense that summoning a door right there in front of him hadn't worked. Nothing else had changed [i]while he watched.[/i] The changes happened when he wasn't looking. That didn't make much sense to Sam, but he didn't care. Whatever worked.

He shut his eyes and concentrated on wanting the door, out of this forest, back to his body.

To be extra sure it worked, Sam even let himself move toward where it "felt" like the door should be. He turned right, took two steps, turned left, stepped again, and opened his eyes.

A doorframe hung in the air, with a door in it. Sam honestly could not have sworn it hadn't been there all along. It looked like Sam's bedroom door, plain and painted beige, with a plain metal knob. He walked around it. The door went to nowhere and the frame was attached to nothing.

[i]Doesn't matter,[/i] Sam told himself firmly. [i]It's my mind and my body. I can do this.[/i]

Shutting his eyes again, he turned the knob, stepped through the open door.

Sam sat astride Jake, in wolf-woman form, deeply impaled on his werewolf-friend's cock. He was back in his body, yes, but [i]her[/i] version of it, and [i]she[/i] still had control.

[i]Damn it![/i]

No, Sam told himself. It wasn't a failure. He'd gotten this far. He could get further.

The wolf-woman flexed powerful thighs, drawing herself up the length of her partner's thick, canine cock. Sam felt every millimeter of that journey, felt the surreal loss and emptiness as Jake's cock slid out of the cunt Sam shouldn't have, felt each shivering shock of pleasure as sensitive cunny-lips were dragged bit by bit over the skin of a sex-slicked phallus.

As she reached the tip, Sam found himself anxious, almost fearful that Jake would slip out. The sensation was that good—even though Sam didn't want it at all, he felt desperate to keep it going.

He didn't want to be having sex, not with Jake, not with any partner he didn't choose on his own. He wanted all of this to stop, right now, and yet . . .

[i]She[/i] didn't let Jake's cock slip out. At the last moment, just before the tip of him escaped her, the wolf-woman slammed herself back down, shoving her body hard onto the phallus she used as her living pleasure-toy.

As it rammed home, back up inside Sam, all thoughts blasted from his mind.

He'd felt this sensation how many times last night? Yet it never lost one drop of intensity, one shock of electricity. How could anything feel as good as . . . this?

It would be different, Sam knew, if he had the physical ability to resist. He knew from stupid, teen-aged experience that sex could be quite painful for even a [i]consenting[/i] woman if she wasn't in the mood. With [i]her[/i] calling the shots, however—not to mention her heat—well, this body was always in the mood.

And every thrust felt amazing. No, beyond amazing. Sam had no words to describe the bliss.

He did want it to stop. It was a violation of his free will. And yet . . .

How [i]could[/i] he want it to stop, really? The fullness, the heat, the deep pleasure up inside, the shocking ecstasy tickling the tender lips, the searing glory as [i]she[/i] angled herself to brush her clit against Jake's sex-slicked body.

Sam was disappointed when she flexed again, to pull away, but disappointed the way a beach is disappointed to bid goodbye to a receding wave. Sam knew she only began her cycle again, flex, bounce, slide . . . and thrust. Over and over, the oldest dance, while Jake lay back and enjoyed her hard work. He moaned his pleasure, gripping her hips, thrusting up to meet her each time she slammed down onto him. Sam had little attention to spare for the wolfman Sam's body rode and used without Sam's permission.

His own pleasure was too much for his mind. He had room for nothing else.

Sam [i]did[/i] want it to stop. He kept saying it over and over to himself. It was still rape, no matter how good it felt. He didn't want to fuck men, especially not friends of his.

He wanted it to stop.

[i]She[/i] slammed down on Jake's cock again.

Pleasure exploded through Sam's body and mind. [i]She[/i] sped her rhythm, increased the force of her thrusts. Jake matched his time to hers.

Sam wanted to cry.

Maybe . . .

Maybe he wanted it to stop [i]after[/i] this time. Just . . . just finish up, this one last time . . .

Another thrust, and another. Sam struggled to concentrate.

No! He had a goal here. He'd gotten back into his body for a reason. [i]Focus![/i]

Sam had to get control. This [i]was[/i] his body, and she couldn't have it. Never mind that he looked like her right now. Never mind that he had fur and fangs, breasts and a vulva.

Fuck, he could [i]live[/i] with that, somehow. As long as he got back his self control.

Working actively to stay present, stay [i]here[/i] in the real world, Sam pushed with all his will to fight the wolf-woman for the right to direct his own body.

Nothing happened. As far as he could tell, she ignored him. Jake, clearly, didn't even know he was there.

They fucked. They moaned. They enjoyed themselves completely. Sam, watching, helpless, raped, could only enjoy the pleasure.

Again.

"I'm cumming," Jake gasped. He thrust a few more times up into his partner, then tensed all over, his werewolf face foolish in wild ecstasy.

The wolf-woman made no attempt to avoid Jake's knot as orgasm wracked Sam as well. Fire and ice, lightning and magic crackled through every nerve in his body. [i]She[/i] laughed through his throat, collapsed forward to lick Jake's pointed, wolf ear, and then . . .

She was gone again.

Just like that.

Sam felt it instantly. He had control.

He had control, and he hadn't changed forms. He remained a female werewolf, but . . . he was his own. He swallowed hard, tried to roll away.

. . . and yelped in pain. The same sensitive cunny-lips that had caused Sam such maddeningly unwanted pleasure when gently dragged up and down Jake's sex-slicked cock now screamed like they might be ripped from Sam's body.

"Careful there, Sweetfangs," Jake purred. "You're stuck with me a few more minutes."

Sam was his own again, [i]while locked in coitus with some dude![/i]

Panic flooded him. Sam sprang back—as far as he could go without . . . tugging again. He stared down at the wolfman his old college friend Jake had turned out to be.

Suddenly, it was too real. Everything was too real. Sam bit his tongue to fight down a rush of little boy tears. The bite hurt like hell.

Fangs.

Fuck. A second wolfish yelp escaped Sam before he could stop it. He found himself glancing desperately around Jake's cavelike basement, though he couldn't guess what he hoped to see. He felt his own arms come up to clutch himself, like he was cold, but when he touched his own breasts, Sam dropped his hands back to his sides.

Helplessly aware that his rational mind had, for the moment, beaten a sudden retreat, Sam tugged again at Jake's cock in his cunt. Pain and too much pleasure spiked through him in unison. He whimpered.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jake asked. He put his furred, clawed, werewolf hands up to Sam's hips, stroking soothingly, eyes concerned.

Sam shoved his hands away.

Concern and confusion leaped higher in Jake's canine gaze. "Sammie, what happened?"

"Don't fucking call me that, asshole," Sam said. He hadn't meant to, didn't really know [i]what[/i] he wanted to say. He only knew he was goddamn [i]done[/i] with being fucked without his permission.

And he couldn't make it stop yet. He tugged again. Same results. He wanted to scream.

"What the hell?" Jake still sounded hurt and worried, but now also annoyed. "Sam . . ."

And Sam was angry. Fuck Jake anyway. He'd [i]known[/i] this would happen. He'd done this on [i]purpose.[/i]

Without really meaning to, Sam—still tied to Jake's knot in the cunt he shouldn't have—punched the other werewolf, hard.

"Ow!" Jake snarled.

Sam had hit him in the upper arm—a bad bruise at worst—but Jake knew, Sam saw in his eyes, that this was different from last night's rough sex play. The wolf woman had hurt him worse, even made him bleed, but she'd meant it very differently. There was no misunderstanding.

"Dammit, Sam! What'd I do?" Jake sounded angry, but also like he really didn't know.

Sam, unthinking—feeling way too many things to think, struggling too hard against helpless tears to have much more control than he did with [i]her[/i] around—lashed out again with clenched fists.

Jake caught at Sam's wrists, struggling for his own defense only. He made no attempt to hurt back.

Snarling, hating the canine sound of his own voice, Sam wrenched his arms free of Jake's grip, hurled himself violently away from Jake's body.

Pain ripped through Sam's vulva.

"Fuck!" Jake barked. "Fucking ow!"

Sam was away. He was free. Fuck, it hurt. He rolled to his feet and forced himself not to clutch at his genitals. He didn't want to feel . . . that they weren't male. Instead, Sam spun to face Jake, took his old high school wrestling stance, and growled.

Jake wasn't even looking at him. He [i]was[/i] clutching his genitals, rolling in the pile of blankets and cushions, eyes scrunched up in pain, repeating, "ow, ow, ow, ow, fuck, ow, ow . . ."

Sam felt himself start to relax. He backed a few paces further toward the wall, remembering to breathe, to manage his anger. Other emotions stopped threatening him with tears. Rational thought gradually resumed. Sam wondered whether or not he should feel bad for hitting Jake.

"You fucking raped me," he muttered.

Yeah, he didn't feel that bad.

Jake froze.

Slowly, carefully, Jake pulled his hands away from himself and sat up, facing Sam. He raised both hands to show them empty, and he very deliberately turned human.

It was strange to watch the process in reverse. Jake's fur just melted away, like it had never been—except at the top of his head, where it grew and kinked back to his former short afro. Jake's ears shrank, restored to roundness, and slid down his head to their humanish spot at the sides of his face. His muzzle and fangs shrank back to humanish squareness.

Naked and hairless, creamy brown and cut like a moviestar, Jake nevertheless looked tiny now, helpless before Sam's claws and fangs. He still held his hands up, human and unarmed. He bowed his head.

"Let's calm down for a minute," he said softly. "I think I must've heard you wrong, but I want to make sure. What'd you just say to me?" His tone was even, controlled, but Sam heard a touch of anger underneath it. He didn't doubt that Jake could shift back fast enough to defend himself if things went ugly.

Sam swallowed. More rage drained away. He backed up to the wall and slid down it to sit. He tried to ignore the way his breasts touched his thighs. He didn't dare look down at himself, and he couldn't bring himself to meet Jake's eyes.

"I [i]told[/i] you she wasn't me," Sam grumbled. "How could you?"

He could feel Jake staring. He didn't even need to look up.

"Sam, I [i]had[/i] consent," he said, tone still controlled, unreadable. "Fuck, you [i]hurt[/i] me. If there was force involved, [i]I[/i] was the one bleeding first . . ."

"[i]She[/i] consented just fine!" Sam barked. "Don't you get it? You [i]helped[/i] her take advantage of me. You [i]liked[/i] it. You fucking [i]set it up!"[/i] He gestured angrily at the basement around them. When he met Jake's eyes, it was by accident.

Gazes locked, Sam watched Jake's human frown deepen. Still seated, still naked, Jake crossed his arms over his chest.

"I can [i]smell[/i] when a woman's not into me," Jake said softly. "I can even smell when she's horny for the wrong reason, like drugs, or fucking chemical imbalance." He shut his eyes and shook his head. "I have never, [i]ever[/i] had an unwilling woman. I don't even make [i]human[/i] mistakes that way."

Sam stared helplessly. He wasn't getting through.

"Is it that hard to believe that [i]she's not me[/i]?" he asked, desperate, wishing he could make his voice sound normal again, a human low tenor, not this growling, dykish alto.

Jake didn't answer. He stood up, wearily, stiffly, and went to the covered area under the basement stairs. Sam remembered from last night that he kept fluffy, clean towels there. Jake pulled one out and wincingly used it on his groin. He tossed a second towel to Sam.

"Don't fucking ignore me!" Sam snapped, catching the towel.

"I need food, Sam," Jake said, looking at the floor. "Can't think. Werewolf metabolism. You need food too." He sighed. "You want to eat down here or up there?"

Sam did want out of the basement. He didn't say anything, but he stood up to follow Jake. Something warm and wet dribbled from Sam's sensitive vulva-lips, down the fur of his leg.

For reasons he couldn't quite explain, Sam bit back tears again. Frustrated and humiliated, he applied his towel, as Jake had done, gingerly sopping up the leavings of activities he hadn't wanted from parts he shouldn't have. He hated that the towel felt good, every time it touched him. Every drop of Sam's willpower went to squelching a silent scream.

"I'll start with sausages?" Jake asked, halfway up the basement stairs.

Sam didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to need Jake's help or his food, or his fucking towels, but . . . he did. "How do I change back?" he asked. Even to himself Sam sounded bitter, sullen.

"It's a bad idea on an empty stomach," Jake admitted. "Almost knocked me out, and you're not used to this stuff yet. Come on up. I've got the blinds closed. No one will see." He reached the lock on the door at the top of the stairs, began to open it. "We'll get back to lessons after food." He sounded tired, even depressed.

Sam wasn't sure what to think. He finished wiping himself dry and cast about helplessly for some sort of clothing to put on. He found nothing of the kind, down in the werewolf-basement, but hulking wolf-creature or no, it didn't feel right to Sam not to put on some kind of clothes. Besides, he didn't want to be nude around Jake anymore, not after . . . last night.

In desperation, and famished enough at the thought of food to make him just a bit absent-minded, Sam finally grabbed a ratty but clean-smelling blanket from the floor and—squeezing his eyes shut so as not to have to deal with the sight of his radically altered body—wrapped it around his waist like a towel. That would have to do. Thus "clothed" Sam followed Jake helplessly upstairs.

Breakfast took a good, long while. They ate in near-silence. Jake—in boxers and a t-shirt now—fixed all the food by himself, told Sam not to bother "helping" with huge, clawed, werewolf hands he wasn't used to. Sam's host didn't go as all-out in quality as he had the day before, though the size of the banquet did not diminish. Much was microwaved, and the rest prepared as simply as possible. Eventually, for reasons Sam couldn't pinpoint, Jake seemed to decide they'd eaten enough.

"To transform back to human," he instructed dully, "you'll need to connect with your wolf. All transformations are a kind of communion . . ."

"No fucking way," Sam said. He shook his head over and over, like he couldn't stop. Panic rose in his throat once more, but he somehow swallowed it down to speak. "I'm not giving her control. Never again."

Jake looked up at him, and his grey-green eyes were sad. "There's always something," he said, without explanation. His lips curved in an unhappy smile. He shook his head. "Sam, she's you. You connect with her, or you're stuck like that. Your call."

[i]He believes that,[/i] Sam realized. Maybe it was true—at least the connection part. Sam set his jaw and shut his eyes.

He willed himself into the forest. The forest appeared. Sam shut his eyes again and turned around, wanting [i]her[/i] to be there. There she was, a four-pawed wolf again, flopped on her side, sleeping.

"I want to be human," he told her.

One ear twitched, and one paw. She didn't open her eyes, but she did yawn and stretch a bit. "Sure, whatever," she said. "I'm not busy."

As if she'd somehow flung him, Sam was back in the physical world, and shrinking. He watched in wonder as his fur melted away, his fingernails turned small and round, translucent white and pink. He almost cried [i]again[/i] when he felt his clitoris swell to the size of a penis, everything returning to normal, head flaring to its proper shape around his urethra. Sam didn't feel his vulva seal, but he did feel his labia fill up into testes and drop to hang like they should.

He was a man again.

Sam barely noticed his breasts shrinking away, but the moment they were gone it occurred to him: he'd never gotten dressed. Oh, he'd kept the blanket around his waist, but with the fluffy fur and the wolf-ness, and the aftermath of sex, Sam hadn't even thought . . . He'd been naked from the waist up for hours now, just sitting around Jake's house, eating breakfast with his boobs right there on display . . .

Huh.

Well, he had a male chest now. In fact, it was hard to tell from this angle, but it looked like . . . Sam was fitter than before, more defined.

Huh.

He glanced up at Jake. Watching Sam warily, Jake nodded.

"How'd that go?" he asked.

"She was napping," Sam said. "She didn't care."

"She pissed at me too?" Jake asked dully.

Anger reared up again in Sam's belly. He wanted to punch something. "I didn't fucking ask her," he grated. "Why would she be?"

Anger flashed in Jake's eyes too, for just a moment, but he appeared to force it back down.

"Right," he muttered. "So tell me more about this bastard who bit you."

It was hard, for Sam, to talk about Alpha to Jake. It was hard to trust Jake at all after the way he'd arranged to take advantage of Sam's horny slut of a wolf.

Sam had nowhere else to go, though, and no one else to ask about any of this. So he told the story, of the bite and the break-in. He didn't give the humiliating details—like how Alpha had forced him to suck his cock—but he let Jake see he'd been abused.

Jake stayed sad and serious while he listened, but little by little his demeanor grew less dull, less wholly at a loss. He seemed almost to square his shoulders for some task or other. When Sam finished his tale, Jake nodded grimly.

"That man is a menace to werewolves," he said. His tone left no room for argument. "You don't do [i]any[/i] of the shit he did to you. Werewolves need to stay secret. Plenty of people would love to study us like rats. Plenty of magic things would love to hunt us down for a thousand weird reasons. We keep to ourselves, and we don't make new werewolves without a good reason. Let's start there."

Sam's first "werewolf culture" lesson followed. Sam learned the importance of condoms with all non-werewolves, to avoid passing on lycanthropy, and the importance of never biting anyone for any reason.

"You have lycanthropy in all your bodily fluids," Jake explained. "It's there even when you're human, but in smaller quantities. Won't usually change a person without a [i]lot[/i] of repeated exposure, but better to be safe. In all forms, the lycanthropy's gone the second it hits air, so you at least never have to worry about piss or sweat or sneezing. Even your wolf-form blood won't change people once it leaves your body, but anytime anything from wolf-you goes into another person's body without passing "go" in between—even spit—bam." He snapped his fingers.

Sam nodded, paying close attention, relieved by the practicality of the subject matter.

Jake seemed to approve of his seriousness. "Biting's the worst, so I hope all the Sams in there are listening close."

Sam let that pass. He hoped she was listening too, but he couldn't tell.

"Both the wolf forms have these great teeth for fighting," Jake said. "The human won't fight with them. Doesn't feel natural. The wolf [i]loves[/i] to bite though." He shook his head. "You've got to rein that in. Always. You remember fucking Trey, back in college?"

Sam nodded. "You were the dog that saved Taylor from him, when she said Trey assaulted her." He'd already guessed as much, before coming here.

Jake nodded too. "Yeah, I shouldn't have let myself be seen around campus as a wolf so often. I was young." He shrugged. "But what I did [i]right[/i] that day was fight with my paws, not my jaws. Trey deserved to bleed for how he acted, but he [i]didn't[/i] deserve the honor of becoming a werewolf. I knocked him down, scraped and scared him a bit, gave Taylor a chance to run. Then I left. No biting."

Sam pondered the implications.

[i]Trey deserved to bleed,[/i] Jake had said. Sam tried to make that mesh with the way he'd been manipulated and used for Jake's pleasure. The pieces just didn't fit.

But Sam resolved not to bite people. He resolved to find some way to stop [i]her[/i] if she tried.

"Next lesson," Jake said. "Your blood won't infect people, not after it's hit air, but it [i]will[/i] make them ask questions, and the world will fucking explode if science gets a sample to examine. You bleed, you clean it up."

Sam blinked. "I left bloody clothes in my hamper, back at my apartment!" He jumped up.

Jake waved him back down. "Your apartment is probably ok, but you'll want to make phone calls and whatever so no one goes in looking for you. Your landlord likely to poke around? Anyone else have a key?"

Sam shook his head, but he made a mental note to call his family and friends, make sure no one worried about him while he hid from Alpha. He wondered if he'd have to quit his job.

The two werewolves' conversation went on a while, Sam doing his best to learn the ropes while Jake instructed. Neither one mentioned sex or rape, or anything else that had happened last night. They kept to practical matters, kept their emotions in check.

Sam hated to admit it, but he was grateful.

He also hated to admit that, like it or not, he did have a fair amount of trouble staying focused. He wanted to know the things Jake told him, but . . . between the weird sex, the constant fear of having his body taken over again by that [i]bitch,[/i] the recurring shame of remembering Alpha's cock in his mouth, Jake's cock . . . fucking everywhere, remembering all that blood in his shower, and the sheer enormity of what had happened . . .

[i]I'm not human.[/i]

Sam struggled.

And every time his mind wandered, every time he caught himself spacing off instead of listening to Jake's vital tips on life as a werewolf, Sam would see things.

The forest, usually. That alone was enough to scare him back into the present. He didn't want to talk to the wolf inside him, didn't want to deal with her existence. He hoped she slept forever—or at least until he learned some way to control her, keep himself in charge.

It wasn't always the forest though. Some of of the things Sam saw with his wandering mind were scarier.

Alpha's cock, hard and dripping, waiting to be sucked. [i]"Sam,"[/i] Alpha called. He sounded indulgent and searching, like he played hide-and-seek with a child. [i]"Sam!"[/i]

[i]"[/i]Sam!" Jake said, snapping his fingers near Sam's face. "You with me?"

"Sorry," Sam mumbled, blushing, ashamed. "I'm doing my best."

Jake frowned, nodded and went back to pacing his living room floor, talking about internet privacy and the dangers of werewolf hunters. He explained the channels he would go through in the supernatural community to get the Wayback Machine archived site that had implicated him to Sam taken down, so no one else could find him that way.

"What about other werewolves?" Sam asked. "What if I hadn't been able to find . . . " He started to say an ally, or a safe haven, but Sam didn't feel incredibly safe here. It was a hell of a lot better than time spent with Alpha, but Jake had still violated him. He wasn't really Sam's friend.

Jake didn't wait for him to find the right word. "It's not pretty," he admitted. "When someone gets brought in the wrong way like this . . . they're kind of on their own. A lot of them get killed by hunters, or some coven captures them for ritual sacrifice. Sometimes the FBI gets them and everyone else has to break them out and destroy the evidence. The supernatural world has spies on the inside for that kind of thing, mages and stuff. You can't trust them worth shit—if they think you're a problem, they'll make you 'go away' instead of helping, so never let them think you're a problem—but . . . they keep us out of the media at least." Jake shook his head. "It's bad to be alone out there. You don't bring people into the world of magic lightly."

Jake trailed off, staring into space, and Sam let himself do the same. So much to think about, so much to fear. Mages, covens, hunters, and Jake had implied other threats, other creatures out there, a whole world Sam had never suspected.

He thought about movies he'd seen, visualizing scenes of demons and and trolls, fairies and vampires. How much was real?

Sam felt a phantom hand in his hair, gripping his head as if forcing him to kneel. He saw a black wolf running through a blood-slicked street, nose to the ground, tendrils of shadow reaching out from its fur, reaching out for Sam.

"[i]I'll find you,"[/i] Alpha whispered, so tenderly. [i]"You can't hide forever."[/i]

With a shocking suddenness, Jake turned to punch the wall. It dented, but didn't break. Solid house. Sam startled back to the present, staring. Jake rubbed his fist.

"I'm glad you found me, Sam," he muttered. "Regardless."

Sam looked up at him, the coiled frustration in his shoulders, the unspoken conflict between them.

"I think he's trying to track me," Sam confessed, without meaning to. "I keep getting this sense that he's talking to me."

Jake blinked, controlled himself. "If your attacker knows magic, we're in trouble," he said, "but most werewolves don't. It's not easy to learn. You've been through a trauma, though, Sam. It's no surprise if you're having PTSD or whatever."

Sam shivered. "But he [i]could[/i] know magic?" he asked.

Jake shrugged. "If he comes here, we'll take him. Two against one. I shouldn't have said that about us being in trouble." He waved a hand, a deliberate show of confidence. "Mages are shit at fighting werewolves. You're safe here."

Safe. Sam tried to believe him. He heard Alpha laughing, and he couldn't honestly tell whether or not it—or any of the rest of it—was just his imagination.

He [i]had[/i] been through a trauma. He thought about asking Jake where he could find a psychiatric counselor for werewolves, but before he said anything, Jake took a deep breath for what looked like courage and sat down across from Sam.

"About last night," Jake said, "and all the sex . . ."

All other thoughts flew out of Sam's brain.

Jake shook his head, eyes shut, face again unreadable. "I don't know, Sam. Last night, for me . . ." He fell silent for a moment, jaw flexing. He opened his eyes and met Sam's almost fiercely. "Last night was amazing." He said it like a truth he'd fight to defend. Then he sagged. "I expected a different morning. I was all prepped to reassure you I'm still cool with you in this body." He gestured at Sam's male chest, clothed again in yesterday's t-shirt. "I figured we'd work it out, you know? If you're a straight woman, deep down, so what? Maybe we'd try gay stuff, and maybe we'd only boink as wolves. I didn't [i]care[/i]."

Abruptly, Jake turned his back, hands clenching into fists. Sam just stared at him. Thoughts didn't seem to want to happen.

"I didn't mean to say that much," Jake amended after a moment. "I'm sorry. You're having a rough time right now, I see that." He sighed, and his shoulders slumped. He turned back around.

Sam's anger drained away, just like that. He didn't know what was going on, or what to think, but somehow all the anger had vanished. Still, he stared. Jake's face was closed. His mouth curved itself into a brave smile.

"I've never been through whatever's happening to you, Sam," he said. "You smell sane now, and you smelled sane last night too—close enough for consent anyway, but . . . I guess there's some dissociation, or . . ." He shook his head. "We'll get you through it, ok? As friends or whatever you need. And . . ." He glanced away, ran an awkward hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Sam. When I took you down there, I just wanted . . . to let you know I was ok with you. I thought it would help."

Sam couldn't speak. He had no idea what to say. Jake's view of the situation began to piece itself together in his head. He was trying to help Sam and his wolf see eye to eye, realize they were part of the same person.

He just couldn't [i]get[/i] that in Sam's case they were nothing of the kind.

Sam tried to decide how he felt about that, how he should respond to Jake's misguided "tenderness". Fuck, the man sounded like he'd been ready to start a [i]relationship.[/i] The notion left Sam reeling, as if he needed one more thing to worry about.

Jake seemed to take pity on his internal struggle.

"We've been talking way too long," he said, forcing another brave smile. "Let's break for lunch, eh? I'll start some frozen pizzas and baked potatoes, and we can snack on chips while we make grilled cheese in the mean time."

"Yeah, ok," Sam tried to say, with a brave smile of his own.

He didn't get the chance.

Without a word, without even a struggle, [i]she[/i] was back in charge.

"Lunch," she said brightly, "sounds delicious."

To Jake's credit, he seemed to notice that something had changed. Seething and frightened, Sam watched as the two interacted, and saw Jake guardedly keeping his distance. They made food, and they ate it, and Jake ignored every flirtatious thing [i]she[/i] said to him through Sam's throat.

As soon as Sam felt safe to leave them, he sent his thoughts to the mind-forest. It appeared. He ignored the eerie, distant howl of another wolf, one he somehow knew to be black and searching for him. Sam refused to believe the trees were watching him, and when they seemed to whisper his name, he turned and snapped at them.

"You're [i]my[/i] mind! Not hers, and [i]definitely[/i] not his!" Sam shouted to his "inner" world. "The black wolf is the enemy. Resist [i]everything[/i] he wants, no matter what!"

The wind in the trees seemed to pause for a moment. When it started up again, everything sounded normal. Momentarily satisfied, even bolstered, Sam closed his eyes and pictured [i]her[/i], standing beside him.

She was there when his eyes opened, in werewolf form this time. She had a chip in her hand, and crunched another in her mouth.

"What?" she asked. She sounded bored.

"How'd you do that?" Sam asked. "How'd you get control from me again, so easy, without a fight? I thought Jake said I'd have more power in the human form."

She shrugged. "You were distracted." She popped the second chip into her mouth, making him wait until she'd chewed and swallowed for the rest of her explanation. "And you've accepted me, deep down, as your superior."

Sam tried to protest, but she laughed and cut him off.

"Beat me in a fight, if you want more say," she said. "I don't compromise with weaklings."

Sam blinked. She was gone.

He hurried to follow her.

Once again, Sam watched helplessly while someone else controlled his body.

The wolf woman ate with Jake, laughed with Jake, and—using glances and body language, and remarkably few words—she little by little teased Jake out of today's dark mood. Sam couldn't stop her. All he could do was wait and hope.

They finished their meal. Jake flopped—finally smiling again, if a bit worriedly—onto the couch.

"PS4?" he asked, "or straight back to work?"

"I have a better idea," [i]she[/i] said through Sam's mouth. Fluidly, with a grace Sam didn't realize his body could even manage, she stood, dropped the jeans Sam had been wearing, and threw off his t-shirt. Then she changed.

Sam felt it, all of it. He knew what he was feeling this time, when his sack shriveled into nothing but empty skin, and his body opened up down there like a hungry mouth. He tried not to think about his penis shrinking down to the size of a clit. He barely even noticed the rest this time, the fur and the fangs, the breasts and the tail. He was used to all that, in his way.

He just wanted his dick back.

The wolf woman, however, made it instantly clear that she felt nothing of the kind.

Jake—while [i]she[/i] undressed and transformed—had a pained look on his face, wary. He put his hands up in protest, and he made a point of looking away from Sam's nude, furred body.

The wolf woman ignored all this. In two steps she'd launched herself into Jake's lap, straddling him, pinning him against the couch.

"Change," she whispered in his ear with a lick. "I'm horny."

Jake wouldn't meet Sam's gaze. "Bad idea," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know what's up with you or why, but until I know for sure what you want . . . "

She ignored him, grinding her already-dripping, swelling, half-canine cunt across the front of his boxers. He pushed her gently away, but she ignored that too.

"If you want me to stop," she purred, much bigger and stronger than he was, "change and make me."

A nervous laugh escaped Jake's lips, but he again shook his head. "I can't trust the wolf," he said. "He's too instinctive, and you smell too good. He wouldn't mean to take advantage, but he wouldn't stop, not with you acting like this."

She laughed too. Inside her, Sam squirmed. He could tell that Jake resisted because he thought that—despite all scents to the contrary—Sam might be crazy. Jake still believed, however, that he was dealing with just one person, and Sam knew that was a person Jake still wanted. Sam didn't think Jake's willpower would hold out forever—not after the friendly, post-apology lunch they'd shared.

"If you're not in the mood to take advantage," [i]she[/i] murmured, "I'll do it." She reached down between her legs to unbutton Jake's boxers, free his unsurprisingly hard cock. Sam knew it was all over. With a sultry hint of a growl, she added, "I'll just hold you down and force you to obey."

She shifted in his lap. His cock slid into her. Jake shut his eyes and moaned. The wolf woman laughed and rode him, while Sam, lost in the pleasure [i]she[/i] forced on him, fantasized about vengeance from the prison of his own possessed body. He hated her. He didn't know who she was, or where she'd come from, but she fast became at least as much his enemy as the man who'd done this to him.

Sam would destroy her.

She ignored him and fucked his friend.

"Damn it, Sam," Jake said, panting, still not meeting his partner's eyes, "you really are a piece of work." As if he couldn't help it, Jake's hands moved to her hips, and his own hips began to thrust. "We shouldn't do this."

"Change," she urged him, riding him hard. "I want your knot in me again."

"You're crazy," was all Jake said.

Sam felt Jake's cock deep inside [i]her[/i] heat-swelled cunt. It felt good, but it wasn't enough. Sam knew why [i]she[/i] wanted what she did. He almost wanted it himself.

He hated, yet again, that all of this felt so damn good.

"Change or I'll tear out your throat, little man," [i]she[/i] growled. She hooked her claws into Jake's plain, white t-shirt. He hissed in pain as she shredded it off him, exposing criss-crossed welts freshly cut into his perfect, brown chest. While Sam watched, the scratches began to bead with tiny, bright dots of crimson blood. They weren't deep, but they had to hurt like hell.

Sam didn't know if Jake's will broke, if he got scared and retreated to the safety of his other form, or if Jake's wolf just got tired of waiting and took over himself. It was always hard to tell the difference between Jake and his wolf.

The end result was the same though. Jake changed. His boxers stretched to their limit and creaked, but other than them he was already naked. His fur pushed in, and his body bulked and shifted. Sam felt Jake's cock grow and change inside [i]her[/i] cunt.

Sam hated that now it felt perfect.

Werewolf Jake heaved Sam off him with a mighty growl, and [i]she[/i] laughed and twisted, landing just further down the couch with her legs spread in welcome.

"You can't act like this and then make accusations," Jake snarled. "Tell me you want sex, Sam. Promise me you won't deny it later."

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up and fuck me," she said, "before I make you prove your strength again."

Though clearly more than a little angry, and inclined to be rough, Jake didn't hold back any longer. He held her pinned to the couch by her throat—a sensation Sam found alarmingly pleasant—and he fucked her hard and deep, taking her for his own selfish pleasure.

She didn't mind. She writhed and bucked beneath him, positioning her body to the perfect angle, so his every thrust dragged across her clit.

Sam wished he could choke her himself, but the physical sensations he now drowned in were nothing short of glorious.

He almost wished this was consensual. He almost wished he'd just decided to fuck Jake for fun.

Sam hated himself for thinking it, and he hated [i]her[/i] for putting him in this position.

He didn't know anymore what to think of Jake.

With a spasm and a cry, Jake pumped yet another load of cum up into Sam's body. As his knot expanded inside her, the wolf-woman cried out too, convulsing in bliss as their bodies tied together.

Sam reeled in jolt after jolt of unwanted ecstasy. He hadn't had sex this good in . . . well, maybe in his whole life, ever.

Why did it have to be against his will, and with a man?

He watched helplessly as the two lovers lounged together, sated and panting. This time, for once, Sam saw the change when human Jake took control of Jake's body back from the wolf. He didn't change forms. He didn't try to break the tie. He did, however, look down at Sam with grave, sad eyes.

"I'm thinking clearer now," he said, "with those 'instincts' appeased."

The wolf-woman wriggled teasingly beneath him. Whatever he saw in her eyes seemed only to confirm the fears Sam saw in his.

"You really aren't my friend Sam, are you," he said. It wasn't a question.

"I'm Sam," she said. "This is my body, which you are, for now, deemed fit to borrow for fucking whenever you like." She squeezed his knot with her vaginal muscles. Pleasure jabbed at Sam.

Jake clearly felt it too. He gasped and smiled, but he also shook his head. "You're Sam's wolf," he said, smile already fading. His voice held guilt this time, and regret.

She sniffed. "Hardly, the weakling. No," she insisted, "He's my human."

"Shit," Jake said. "I'll be needing help with this one."

With a tenderness that surprised Sam and seemed to utterly baffle the wolf-woman, Jake gathered her close in his arms, his knotted cock still tied with her sated cunt.

"Forgive me, Sam," he said. "I should have listened better. I don't know what's wrong, but we'll figure it out. I know who to ask now. I'll get you the help you need."

In Sam's mind, in the forest, he heard only the word, "boring."

He had control again.

Awkwardly, warily, Sam returned Jake's intimate embrace. He didn't know what to say.

"Please don't rip away from me again, Sam," Jake added as soon as he felt Sam's tentative return-hug. He sounded wary. "If it's that uncomfortable, I can always turn human. That fucking hurt last time."

"What if [i]I[/i] turn human?" Sam asked. He had to say [i]something[/i] to distract himself from the rich, post-coital blending of Jake's scent with his own, Jake's warm, nude nearness, Jake's fucking [i]cock[/i] still buried to the hilt [i]inside Sam's body[/i].

If Sam thought about it too closely—Jake's heartbeat against his chest, Jake's warm breath against his neck, the way Jake's cock might feel [i]inside[/i] while he transformed to release the tie—Sam . . . felt certain he would have thoughts he didn't want to have. He was tired of unwanted thoughts, unwanted feelings, sensations, unwanted goddamn [i]sex[/i].

He had to say something. Feeling just the slightest bit crazy, Sam gave a soft laugh. It felt like the first time he'd laughed in a year, though it had only been a couple of days. To keep from tumbling over the madness cliff—assuming he hadn't already—Sam pressed his question. "Would my change push you out or make us stuck like this?"

With every part of his body, Sam [i]felt[/i] Jake twitch in alarm.

"Please, please, please, let's not find out?" Jake begged.

"No more sex unless you're really sure it's me asking," Sam said, "and you have a deal." He wondered why he'd phrased it that way. Why not just say no more sex ever? Sam was a straight guy, no matter how good this stuff felt. He didn't want Jake that way, no matter how happily his knot-stuffed cunt protested otherwise. Right?

But Jake relaxed and pulled gently back from holding him. He nodded sadly, then glanced a wry grin down at their tied genitals.

"I said I can smell crazy," he said, "and I do turn women down if they smell to me like they're beyond consent, I swear I do, but," he admitted, "I'm a sucker for crazy chicks, Sam. Sometimes the crazy smells good to me. It's a problem."

Sam punched him in the arm again, but not as hard this time. Jake still winced, but his grin didn't fade.

"I'll do my best," Jake promised. "I don't get how, but I believe you. I should have sooner. She won't fool me again, and I'll make myself as hard to force as I can." He bowed his head. "I fucked up, Sam, bad. I'm really, really sorry."

Blushing, awkward, wishing they weren't still locked in coitus, Sam glanced away and muttered. "Yeah, well, she's not big with giving people options."

Sam tried to imagine how he himself would have responded if an attractive female had come onto him that forcefully. It wasn't Sam's kink, but . . . he didn't imagine he'd have resisted long anyway. The thought didn't make him feel much better about himself, but it helped him to better understand Jake, at least. Sam sighed. Jake's scent and heat and the fucking amazing feel of his cock buried deep inside Sam's body . . . would not fucking leave Sam alone.

"God damn it," he muttered softly. "I can't do this." Changing would mean talking to [i]her[/i] again, but with any luck she'd be too high on afterglow to care. "Turn human, Jake," Sam said.

A few fumbling minutes later, both men were human, and both were dressed. They stood side by side with their hands in their pockets and stared at the closed entertainment center.

Silence stretched.

And stretched.

"So," Jake finally said, "PS4?"

"Fuck yes," Sam replied.

Jake leapt to turn on the TV.