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I was slowly woken up from one of the better erotic dreams I’d had in awhile. In that way that most dreams do, it immediately evaporated Leaving behind only the inexplicably aroused feelings, and tiny fragments of memory of the dream. It was something along the lines of my new boyfriend railing me while my parents watched? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an exhibitionist or into anything weird, but in the dream it just felt great to finally be dating someone I could take home to meet the folks. I’d like to think I don’t need my parent’s approval -that- much, but anyways…

Without opening my eyes, the not quite on-rhythm jolting and rattling underneath reminded me that I was on the subway. That’s right, I was on my way home. And after a few moments the reason why I woke up hit me, the “delightful” scent of wet dog reaching my nostrils. It takes a real asshole to bring a dog onto a subway car. To take an animal that had evolved for millions of years to be above-ground and in nice wide open spaces, and instead shove them in a dark smelly tube underground, going faster than their little canine bodies were ever meant to go? Yea as a human I was in the same situation, but we’d built subways and so riding in them was just sort of karma for that fact.

I’d like to think I have a little self-confidence. Enough at least to confront a stranger on the subway at least, and so I opened my eyes. Ready to at least give a snarky remark to whatever asshole had decided to stink up the car for the rest of us, when I saw it. Well, him. Very definitely a him. A werewolf. Shit.

I’m bad with estimating heights, but I’d give my right arm if he wasn’t at least 12 feet tall, and several hundred pounds. Naked, or that was to say clothed only in the remnants of what he’d been wearing during the transformation. Massive clawed toes poked out of front of converse sneakers whose canvas had nearly completely popped off. Leaving them looking like thick-soled flip-flops. Absolutely zero in the way of pants, and the remains of a turquoise hooded sweatshirt, stretched near to the point of bursting, and comically undersized was just hugging the giant brute’s shoulders. The sweatshirt hunched up on the very small of his back. Hell, the Were had even transformed with his hood up, and the force of the transformation had even burst his ears through the hood of the jacket, twitching in sleep above the fabric. Shit. Although I may have already said that.

Fucking idiot. Who runs out of Antilune these days? Well, vagrants mostly. Also those rich enough to have the luxury, and property to go full were for awhile without running into other people, or the law. When the treatment for Lycanthropy (treatment, not cure. We were no closer to a cure than bloodletting barbers had ever been) was available in every pharmacy, it was beyond irresponsible to go full Were. He was wearing that oblivious “Happy-dog” face. Eerily backlit, brake-light red eyes focused on nothing really in particular. While that big coal black nose, larger than my fist twitched this way and that, taking in the scents of the subway. Thick-jowled, though that wasn’t enough to hide the shiny overbite canine fangs that curled over leathery looking black lips. Those two fangs each the size of one of the highlighters stashed away in my backpack. Even his smallest fangs looked to be bigger than my pinkie finger. Shaggy-haired as well as furred, the thick grey hair hung chin length, mostly swept back although a few errant bangs drooped in front of those glowing eyes. A thick brambley forest of a “beard” up his cheeks and bottom jaw, blending into the fur over his bared neck and pecs. His bulk requiring him to sit across several of the plastic bucket seats.

Taking a glance around the subway car I noticed it was deserted. Assholes. No one had woken me up when the idiot had Were’ed out, and they’d quietly evacuated the car Probably afraid of flipping his mood from dopey dog, to killer wolf.

Someone who had Were’ed out was next to completely unpredictable to the average person. Unless you were some expert animal behaviorist, or knew a hell of a lot about Antilune, a werewolf seemed like a ticking timebomb. Just a big goofy dog one moment, and the next he’s going for throats. And hell, every now and then a professional gets mauled by a lion, or gets their face ripped off by a chimp, so even experts aren’t safe.

I swallowed. My mouth suddenly very dry. Remembering every drill I’d ever had in school for this sort of thing. The most important thing was not to panic, and quietly, and calmly get to a Lycan shelter. Fatalities from werewolves these days were at near zero what with Antilune, shelters and Lycan control and all. Waiting until I was absolutely certain the brute’s attention was elsewhere, I casually, quietly began scooting towards one end of the train car. Ignoring the pain in my ass as the hard plastic dividers between the seats hit me in the butt, smoothly sliding my way over to the door. Not even moving my head to look at the handle to the door as I slowly grasped it. Ignoring the weird oil-covered sensation of well-used metal in a public place, and slowly pushed the handle. Only for it to stop less than a quarter of the way, bumping up against the lock. ASSHOLES!

Definitely starting to panic now, I ripped my attention away from the werewolf. Glancing at the subway car door to verify that, yes, the door was locked. The fine mesh of silver wire encircling the car after someone had pulled the emergency button. ASSHOLES! That should be against the law, leaving someone behind in a situation like this! Actually, I was almost positive it was against the law to not do the best to evacuate everyone in a situation like this. My ghost was going to sue the shit out of someone. Maybe I could get enough to afford to pay someone to scrape together my pieces and have a decent burial.

Okay, nothing to it. I took a deep breath, and exhaled as quietly as possible, trying to slow my heartbeat. Nothing else to do in this situation but act calm. Don’t look like either prey, or a competing predator, and don’t do anything to set the Werewolf off. And so I turned my attention between the Werewolf’s legs, eyeing up his junk.

Again, I’m not some sort of perv! I was actually a little bit better equipped to handle this situation than most. I was a pharmacy school student, and so I’d studied Antilune and the Werewolf transformation in depth. I knew how to approximate how long someone had been off their meds, how much of the drug they still had in their system, and basically how much human brain there was still rattling around in their skull.

For whatever reason, the genitals were one of the last things to change. Once a Werewolf was sporting the classic “Red Rocket” there was pretty much no hope of reaching them on any sort of mental level. They were gone wolf. Their brain was on vacation. Pretty much entirely instinct. This Werewolf was sporting…well there actually was a complicated medical term for it, but I’d best describe it as about 3-4th’s gone. A dong bigger around than an old CD, partway between a sheath, and what might as well have been a weird sort of fuzzy foreskin the length of a tube of tennis balls partially sunk in a thick scrub of pubic hair and fur. Connecting to a big triangular happy trail, testes the size of my fists pulled up rather tight in their fuzzy sac. In my expert medical opinion that beast was packing 64 oz of penis, and probably...130mm each testes. Why was I so good at measuring that and so bad at height? Again, med school, it was a volume thing.

I’d say if I had to I could probably still talk to the moron. Maybe only using kindergarten words, or treating the dumb safety hazard like the Hollywood image of a Neanderthal. (I knew that actually, Neanderthals were highly advanced, and surprisingly gentle and emotional! There was evidence that they cared for their sick and elderly, mourned their dead, and…not the time for that). So he and I were probably speaking in the same language, but in the same way a dog could recognize the difference between the words “Food” and “Vet”. And let’s see I had…at least 30 minutes before the next stop, which coincidentally was mine. Great. God Damnit.

I winced as the Subway train took a particularly tight turn on its route. Metal screeching against metal as the city’s aging infrastructure meant two unoiled bits of machinery hit one another, making a high pitched screech. Fuck. Apparently the sound was high pitched enough that I saw the Werewolf wince, his ears flattening against the broad, timber wolf looking skull of his. Growling as he looked around for the source of the offending noise, and spotting me. If I curse a lot here, I think I deserve too given the situation. Fuck.

“Hey. Heyyyy. No bud. It’s cool, it’s just the tracks.” Knowing that my tone would do way more than any of the actual words coming out of my mouth, I tried to play it calm and reassuring. I’d never actually had a pet dog of my own, but enough friends had that I thought I could try and ape the tone. Making what I thought was a soothing, both-hand gesture towards the floor, indicating that the werewolf should just sit down. No such luck.

The furry bathrobe-wrapped-around-a-tank rose to it’s feet, growling at a deep basso pitch that made my inner monkey scream. And it was no good telling my lizard brain that I was underground, and that there was nowhere to hide. I actually am rather proud that I kept control of my bladder as the massive werewolf stomped over to me, huge nose sniffing the air. Fuck. I promise not to end every paragraph that way.

Growling, but nose-twitching, the massive, partially-human brute didn’t know what to make of me. Probably nothing in a werewolf’s brain could understand it’s current location. Or maybe the dumb human in the background vaguely recognized I wasn’t a threat. The wolf however was trying to decide just where I fit in his more primal world-view. So, better to show it I wasn’t a threat.

As I rose up from my seat the werewolf took a half-step back. Snarling as It got ready to meet my challenge, but instead I also took a half step-forward. Bending only slightly to duck my head under it and bump it’s bottom jaw. Again, my ancestral DNA screamed at me for getting that close to those fangs, which evolution had designed to easily poke through my skull and pierce my brain. Damn my medical training sometimes…these sorts of things were just to easy to mentally picture. I bumped my forehead under the Werewolf’s chin. Almost a headbutt, but not quite. Burying my face into the fur of his under-snout and jaw. Pressing them roughly against my own tightly curled locks, and pushing my glasses down the bridge of my nose as I nuzzled the beast. Showing a sign of canine submission.

Like I said, I was a pharmacy school student. The same way I knew the Heimlich Maneuver, CPR, and how to perform an emergency Tracheotomy in case I ever needed it (god I hope I never needed it) I knew a little about canine body language. Who knew when some vagrant was going to come wandering in to where I worked, needing an emergency Antilune booster to keep from going on a rampage?

The werewolf stiffened, and then seemed baffled by the gesture. You know that you’ve seen dogs with that thoroughly confused expression. Pulling back a step, it glowered. Though it’s growl lowered in volume, as it eyed me with confusion. Obviously I didn’t look like a packmate, submissive or not. Heart pounding in my chest, I took another step forward. Lifting my head up, and giving a quick double-tap of licks to the creature’s chin. Ugh god the taste of fur, and the smell of musk. That “unwashed dog” scent that had woken me up mixed with a gym bag full of well-used athletic socks. Not truly -bad-, but thick enough that I could use it for packing material.

The werewolf’s growl was just going through the motions at this point. Telling me that it didn’t think it was going to harm me just yet, just that it could at any moment. The solid fat drop of drool that fell down it’s jowls, quivering gemlike on the point of one of those fangs for a moment, before it landed in my hair made me wince, and reminded me that I was still not out of the woods yet. (Woods, werewolf, red riding hood joke?) And once again, god damnit. But…I didn’t have any food on me, and so I couldn’t further ingratiate myself to the “pack” that way…and so there was really only one option left. Yes really.

Wincing, taking a deep breath, I lifted one hand to scratch the bottom of the Werewolf’s muzzle. The massive brute leaned over me like a furry carpeted tent as I stretched out, reaching my other hand towards his pseudo-sheath. The werewolf immediately growled a warning, but relented almost just as quickly.

“Hey…hey big guy…yeah, yeah you’re in charge you big dumb Alpha.” My best cross somewhere between baby-talk and how I’d talk to a friend’s dog that had suddenly developed rabies. My hand wrapped around that furry pseudo-sheathe. Well, it didn’t wrap around it so much as cup the underside of that massive furry beer growler. My hands sunk almost to the wrist in the thick fur of the thing. Gently squeezing, pushing it back just a few centimeters. Poking the fat purplish glans out of the furry foreskin. Yep…still humanoid enough that this looked more like a typical guy’s than not…just way bigger, and a solid, uniform color of purplish-reddish. What? I’m in med-school…and yes also gay.

The fat glans…that is to say cockhead (might as well get into the spirit of the thing at this point), swelled visibly as it tasted free air. Admittedly fascinated from a purely medical perspective I watched the thing poke free and swell. Watching the slit at the top flex, gaping like a fish gasping for air, before a steady, leaky-faucet dribble of precum welled out of it. Splattering onto the dirty, thick rubber subway car floor, and onto my wrist. Well. At least my plan was working. The Werewolf that was half-hunched overtop of me -definitely- didn’t think I was on the dinner menu at this point…

Shifting my grip to the bottom of that furry pseudo-sheath, I gripped gently but firmly. Soft squeezes, slow tugs back and forth that dragged that foreskin back farther with every tug. Coaxing out the entirety of the werewolf’s cock. A glistening, faintly slimy looking thing. It was prelubed from that pseudo-sheath, and it throbbed, swelled, and thickened with my hand movements. The thing was visibly beating with the brute’s heartbeat. I could actually see the veins in the thing pulse as it engorged with blood.

“That’s right you big dummy. Just gonna get you off, and you’ll think I’m some beta male, and when you’re nice and sleepy I can get off the subway car without being a statistic.”

Even with the creature’s slightly mind-boggling proportions, he was still a “Grow-er” not a “Show-er”. I actively tried not to guess at the big purple demi-wolf’s cock’s proportions, for a number of different reasons. Hell if I made the werewolf mad at this point it could just club my to death with it’s dick given the size of it. Gulping, and briefly wincing, although it wasn’t nearly as bad as I feared, my hand cupped the underside of the Werewolf’s shaft. Immediately coating my palm with it’s slick pre-cum, firmly starting to tug the beast off.

Although I had never done -this- before, I had done this before. I don’t want to brag about my own skills in the bedroom, but I felt I was rather good at this. Tugging and stroking, enough force to jostle those big furry coconuts of his, that plastic grocery-bag sized nutsack of his thudding

…Fuck. This wasn’t going to work. I’ve been with enough guys to sense when a handjob just isn’t going to be enough. And there was no way that I was going to blow that monster. I didn’t trust the mostly-animal brute not to try and choke me with the thing, if I could even get my mouth around it without accidentally hitting it with my teeth. Damnit…well..

Taking a glance to my left, at least the thick silver screen would prevent anyone from looking. And let’s be honest, the security cameras in the subway cars were -always- broken, and never repaired. Taking a deep breath, I turned, and gave the drawstring of my scrubs a quick tug, easily letting them pool to the floor, along with the simple white boxers I wore underneath. God…I don’t think I’d ever had such a rock-hard fear boner in my life. And, that was just definitely…fear pre-cum that had made my own thumb sized cocktip (look, I’m not a big guy. I’m a bottom anyways so not that it matters)shiny and glossy.

“C’mere big-guy.” I muttered under my breath, reaching down to gently grasp the base of that fucking baseball bat of a cock, urging the werewolf forward. At least that pseudo-sheathe had pre-lubed the thing for me, not to mention the still steadily leaking precum from the beast’s head. Placing one arm on the wall of the subway car for support, I faced away from the Werewolf. Guiding him between my legs, gently squeezing that huge dick between my thighs.

It made quite a sight, the size comparison. Looking down at my own 4 inch…ish..pale white cock and small nuts, and small brown bush of pubic hair straddled overtop of the werewolf’s dick. Under it, supporting it, and nonverbally laughing at my diminutive size…in comparison! But then again I don’t know that a horse could compete with what the Lycan was packing.

Offering a suppressed moan (friction was friction after all) as the beast slid forward..confused. Feeling that huge shaft frot along my own erect cock and smooth coinpurse, I squeezed my thighs together. Feeling the squish of the pre-lubed shaft, gently, but firmly grasped between my soft pale legs. The sensation if nothing else seemed to get the Werewolf’s attention, as he began rutting. I blushed as I felt those huge heavy furry nuts of his swing, hitting me in the back of the legs.

“Yea, I be this feels better than the edge of the couch, or a stuffed animal you dumb mutt” I muttered under my breath. Maybe there was a little more human brain left in the werewolf than I had assumed (odd to be thinking about levels of consciousness while it felt like a mound of shag carpeting kept hitting me in the ass, with me wrapped around the beast’s cock all pommel-horse style). Because if it was just dog, or wolf in there I had no doubt that this would be a different experience. Just rapid fire thrusting instead of watching that lubricated shaft slide between my legs back and forth, sliding my own barely-haired sack along with it.

Shit. I spoke too soon. The Werewolf’s growl was a diesel-motor starting rumble that turned my insides to jelly. My legs wobbling so much that I had to almost completely sit on that huge phallus between my legs as it continued to ‘schlliiick…schliiick..schliiick” back and forth between my legs. Hairs on my neck standing up as I waited for the inevitable hot breath on the back of my neck as the werewolf reconsidered lunch…instead…feeling the Werewolf hunch over my further, more steel-cored fur suddenly pressing against my entire back, giving me just enough time to realize what was going to happen, long enough to brace my arms against the smooth, thin metal of the subway car wall. Braced, but not completely locked.

The big humanity-throw-back-wolf-beast behind me suddenly rammed forward, and didn’t stop. Knocking a moan, and then the wind out of me as the Were swiftly began pounding me like a dog with a stuffed animal. That hunched over, rapid fire blurry-hip dog fucking that was mostly powerful hips. A wince, and a whimper as I tried to keep my face from hitting the wall as that massive breeding tool between his legs pounded back and forth, pistoning, and those huge furry nuts smacking against my lower buttcheeks and thighs, hard enough to surely leave a bruise or two. His furry groin hitting my tailbone repeatedly, like someone had wrapped shag carpeting around a shopping cart and was continually bumping me from behind.

I lost it then. Gasping as I lowered a hand to my own small prick, only considering for a moment if this made me more of a “participant” and less of a victim. Pressing my cock down against the monster’s sauna-warm cock as it wetly frotted along mine. The sensation too much to bear with that gentle pressure for more than a few seconds. My wrist on the subway wall burned with exertion as I forced it to support the two of us, and gasping, I climaxed. Mortified somewhere deep in the back of my mind, like a passenger in my own body as I watched what was undoubtedly maybe one of the top three cumshots I’d ever had in my life burst out of me. My small sack pulled up tight against my body as my cock jerked and spasmed. Off-white bursts of spunk tossed out…mostly landing on the werewolf’s own shaft but he didn’t seem to mind or notice.

Hell, maybe that was what set -him- off. I felt the cock underneath me swell. I physically felt it. Like watching a boa swallow soccer ball in reverse, or one of those old timey cartoons of a sphere being pushed through a garden hose. That huge dick -rippled- with the volume a moment before the werewolf -howled-, and came himself. The volume was…a bucket. I was too tired and horny to mentally convert it into metric. The wolf’s spunk was slightly more watery than a humans, and came out in several…bursts instead of ropey spurts…like tossing buckets of soapy water while washing a car. The majority of it managed to miss me, although I hurried to stand on tip-toe, feeling his seed splash back as it hit the wall of the subway car, sliding down, pooling around my crocs (what? I’d just gotten off a shift), and barely avoiding ruining my scrub bottoms.

Feeling the furry weight relent from my back, I winced at the dull arm ache as I stopped using my forearms for support. Noting out of the corner of my eye that barely-sated behemoth growing flaccid between my legs, retreating, I stepped away, “dismounting”. Pulling up my scrub bottoms, and wincing at the warm, slimy sensation, the wolf’s spunk had managed to land inside my pants. Not nearly as bad as it could have, but it looked like I’d be walking home with a sticky reminder, officially turning the rest of my commute into a walk of shame.

Quickly knotting my drawstring, I turned around, and did a double-take as I watched the Lycanthropic transformation take place in reverse. Canine teeth shrunk, and the muzzle shortened. Fur grew in reverse, disappearing to a nowhere not thoroughly explained by science. In middle-finger waving defiance I watched as tons of mass seemingly disappeared as the Lycanthrope shrunk, though not as much as I had thought, and narrowed down. I don’t know what I had expected but it was -not- this. A scrawny, I’d freely use the term “gangly” man, 2.33- meters tall (ahh see there it was coming back to me) but maybe not even a hundred pounds. A…I don’t know fashion, I’d call it a “mop” of hair, too much to be called a bowlcut. Lean, “skinnyfat”, long limbed, with slightly darker, but not tanned skin with only the occasional errant freckle. And downstairs, uncut. Slightly on the bigger side, but nothing unremarkable. That “buzzed” pubic hair manscaping look, hair thin enough to see the skin of his groin under it. About my age, and something about the long limbs, general awkwardness, and slightly hunched over pose just shouted “Convenience store worker” to me.

“Wha…I…huh?” Well, I supposed I’d said dumber things after a nut and a one night stand. At least he wasn’t telling me he loved me.

“You fucking idiot.” Was what I said in response, still catching my breath as I looked him up and down. Cursing yet another inconvenience as I rummaged around in my back, pulling out my backup scrubs, and my cherry flavored Squeezit, that had been intended to be my treat when I got home. Shoving both of them into the de-Were’d idiot’s hands, who had just enough attention-span to grab them. “Wear the pants, drink the juice. You’re gonna need fluids and glucose and calories.” My excuse for packing that particularly juvenile drink.

The human responded robotically. Slipping the pants on and cracking the little plastic top, which I quickly grabbed before he could drop it. (I hate litter). The plastic deformed as he sucked the juice down in a moment, his large Adam’s apple bobbing as he did. Taking that bottle back and putting it in my backpack, I’d hand off a lukewarm wheel of Babybell cheese that I’d found in my pack. Holding my hand out for the wrapper again as he scarfed it down.

“Fucking….idiot” I wasn’t feeling my most put-down creative at the moment as I saw we were finally approaching my stop. The werewolf’s ounces of cum sloshing along the bottom of the car, running in rivulets between the rubber grated floor. My distaste for litter was going to have to ignore that biohazard, and I felt bad for the poor public transport janitors.

“Buh….ugh….I’m..” I ignored the now-human, my cheeks burning red with a hot mix of embarrassment, I knew I had to get home as quickly as possible. As the chime rang and the mechanical voice announced my station, the doors open, and blissfully there was no one on the darkened platform waiting to get in. Although…yeah…damn. Far off to my left I saw through the plexiglass of the security station booth, at least six members of a response team finishing putting on their gear. Kevlar and silver, and arming up with the cattle-prods and mancatchers on poles. Sigh. “Come on you idiot.”

A snap and a whistle was enough to get the were-human’s attention. Still babbling, yeesh, he was going to be out of it for awhile. Making a patting gesture on one thigh, he stumbled towards me, and began following me as I quickly speed-walked towards the stairs aboveground, to avoid dealing with the response team. The were was securely on my heels, on instinct, or dim human understanding that he needed to get out of there. I couldn’t help it. Despite my mingled feelings of anger and humiliation I couldn’t leave the idiot to his fate, or just leave him on the sidewalk.

“Come with me you gangly mutt.” I muttered. “I’ve got generic sports drink at my house and salted mixed nuts. Get your electrolytes stabilized before I kick you out of my apartment.” I felt the medical obligation to at least do that much, maybe force him to take a dose of Antilune I had in my first aid kit at home before he left. Sigh.

I guess if I fed him that made this a date. Our first date.