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Returning "home" was an odd feeling, like putting on a pair of shoes you knew fit perfectly when you last used them, but that had spent years in the depths of the closet. More than anything, I realized, looking at the old apartment building, was that we had only ever lived one step above the refuse of the city; the poverty-stricken, the werewolves and everyone else without a rental contract or a roof to call their own.

The neighbourhood was blanketed in a fine dusting of snow, now. It made everything look at once both solemn and festive. Out in the wild the stars would've made the snow sparkle and glitter, lighting up the night even for human eyes, but in the city none of that was necessary. The streetlights kept every inch of every asphalt street lit, around the clock. All that light, in turn, drowned out the stars and even the light of the moon. I could still see the moon, sure, but I could only see maybe a handful of the brightest stars, and none of the light they cast seemed to ever reach the ground here. Those sodium lights made sure of that.

Excuse me if I wax poetic, but that was truly how it felt. Sure, I still lived in the city, but only as a human. Most of the nights I spent outside, far in the wilderness, running with the rest of my pack, hunting and training for our planned break-in at the Ambicorp factories. That felt like reality now, and the human life felt like a faded nightmare. I felt this sort of connection now to the celestial bodies of the night, especially the moon; certainly there was some lunatic connection between her (or him, perhaps – the moon felt like both, to me) and our curse, even if it was – according to Emily – Earth itself that had created this curse.

Where at one point the streetlights had made me feel safe and helped me find my way home, they now felt suffocating, blocking out the natural world. The stars were how I found my way around now, as humans and animals had done for untold millennia. Well, stars, scents, uncanny primal sense of direction, but surely my point was clear enough; the lights were a plague, even on humans, destroying their ability to see in the dark, making them dependent on it, making sure we drowned the world in lights until one day, bang, no more fossil fuels, no more energy, and no more lights. Surely, it'd be our end. I was half convinced that all the stories Emily and Stephen and told me were true.

As for myself, I was sitting on a bus, restlessly waiting for the same stop I'd taken for a dozen years when coming home after a long day at work. As usual, the bus smelled like absolute hell, and the wolfish senses bleeding over into my human life didn't help. You did not want to have a sharp sense of smell in this place. Everyone's sweat and perfume was ingrained into every fiber of the seats, which made me disgusted to even sit there. I could smell urine too, which wasn't terribly surprising given the number of homeless people. Vomit, too, probably from some partygoers. I distinctly remembered that by human standards, these buses smelled fairly clean, but with my permanently enhanced nose, I realized it was far from the truth.

I was more aware of the other passengers too. Not that there were any; it was only a few hours left until nightfall. I wanted to see my spouse one more time as a human before I turned him; wanted him to realize that I was still me, even if cursed. That I wasn't just a mindless beast. But I digress. Everyone on the bus looked tired, was my point. Not because it was late, but rather due to boredom, due to repetition. I figured I must've looked like that too working 9 to 5 before, but I couldn't remember any of it. I felt an urge to shake them, to force them to wake up, but I knew it'd only get me and our plans shot, by both the people behind Ambicorp and probably the police too.

Perhaps one day, though. Maybe one day we'd all return to nature instead of living outside of it like this, like a cancerous growth that only drains life from its host and only contributes to its own growth.

I wondered how I should make my entrance. Should I let my shift come in a back alley or stairwell, and force my way in as a wolf? I wouldn't be recognized, then, and perhaps he would forget about me when the curse took over. The police would get no more input from him, and there'd be no search. Not that I thought there would be much in the way of a search; I was a nobody, presumed dead or kidnapped in the office burglary. Nobody cared about me. A city cares about none of its citizens any more than the ant queen cares about any individual ant. The only one that did was my spouse. I've been avoiding his name, and that's because I don't want him to be associated with any of this, should this story be found and published. It was the least I could do; although I was now tasked of turning him, at least I can avoid hanging him out to dry.

I could walk in as a human, and explain the situation. Two outcomes were possible here; he'd accept, and let me rut him, which was very unlikely. The other outcome was, of course, that he'd decline, call the police, or even not believe me until he saw me shift, at which point he'd definitely decline.

It wasn't much of a choice. I had to do it forcefully and in the guise of the wolf, and I had to be out of there to let Stephen and Emily guide him away before he recognized me.

I stepped off the bus, almost automatically. I'd made this trip so many times when I was still human, and although the days had started fading in my memory, they remained on some subconscious level. I half hoped I could perhaps smell my old boyfriend, out of some perverse nostalgia, but instead exhaust fumes and smog filled my lungs, making me cough. The air conditioning on the bus had at least kept these horrible toxins out, as bad as it'd smelled in there. And to think I'd lived for thirty years in this place, breathing smoke in and out without noticing it. I could only shudder imagining how bad it would be after I shifted. I'd have to get out of the inner city as fast as I possibly could.

Quickly, I navigated to our old apartment building, but instead of entering and risking being seen, I chose to take off into an alleyway to the side. There, in the relative darkness, shielded from streetlights, I sat down to await my transformation into the beast. Time passed slowly. I had very little to do except wait and watch.

I saw the human detritus of urban life floating around. Vagrants, homeless people, bums, pickpockets, every flavour of willing lowlife or unlucky castaway walked past at some point. Most ignored me, wishing only to be ignored themselves in return. Such was this life. You were unseen, unwanted, uncared for. We werewolves existed in a state between the castoffs and the working class; although we were every bit as hated, ignored, and undesirable as a beggar or thief, we at least had the advantage of superhuman strength, speed and regeneration. I was strange, existing in the dusky midpoint between insect and demigod. We had a grander destiny, too, if Emily was to be believed, although we didn't exactly know the details.

They'd told me two variants. One was that mankind had created an evil god, either literal or figurative, and that the moon-curse was the world's response to this. Like a shadow cast by the fires of industry. Simply put, the world was utterly out of balance, and creatures like ourselves were the result. Although I'd seen no proof of any evil deities, I could imagine one, crawling over our cities like a spider and slowly dry everything and everyone entangled in its great web of chains, humans and everything else natural alike.. I thought it was more a metaphorical god of evil, the tragedy of the commons, where nothing good and free could exist without it being quickly ruined by greed or simply overexploitation.

The other explanation, as I'd heard was that Ambicorp specifically had accidentally unleashed a biological agent that created us, which would also explain why they were so focused on our demise. This was probably what my former bosses believed, if they knew anything about this conflict. Emily called it bullshit, and I tended to agree, although imagining nature as a cosmic force for balance didn't really speak to me either. It would remain a mystery for the longest time.

Then, as suddenly as always, the rising moon brought with it my transmogrification. I leaned against the wall feeling that familiar wave of nausea wash over me, just in time to hear someone ask if I had any change. I tried to reply but no words came out, only a strangled growl. I couldn't hear anything, but I felt them reach into my pockets when I wouldn't reply. Not that there was anything in them, anyway, beyond change left over from the bus tickets. I fell into him as my legs gave, sending both me and the thief stumbling onto the street.

I barely felt the impact; at this point, half of my body was already covered in fur. He smelled terrible, I realized. Unwashed from a life in grime. I heard him groan as he hit the pavement, but then, when I opened my eyes again, I could see him staring at me, unmoving. Gripped by the same kind of primal emotions that our shifts seemed to trigger in the unwary onlookers. As my limbs grew, as claws stuck out on every digit, and as face was reshaped into that of a wolf, he stared blankly, almost as if comatose. It hadn't been the impact with the ground, I knew that; the smell of fear was acrid and overpowering. He was frozen in sheer terror, staring at my unnatural shape being sculpted by the lunar light.

Soon, it was complete. I stood on all fours above the poor hapless pickpocket, and found myself drooling. The instincts were overpowering: bite him and let him turn, or devour him where he lay. I saw him as prey, helpless prey at that. He looked sickly, though, and I think that's what allowed me to resist that primordial need to tear him to shreds. Despite the fact that I was probably immune to most diseases, some other instinct to avoid contagion warned me against it. It was strange, this conflux of conflicting emotions; I wonder, sometimes, if normal animals ever feel like it.

Instead of shredding his throat, I growled a few words. “I will hunt you down if you tell anyone". It sounds trivial in writing, but my voice as a werewolf was deep and gravely, afire with barely controlled urges. He would obey. If he'd even remember. He didn't move a muscle, not even to acknowledge me.

I stood up, leaving him in his misery. Looking up, I saw the windows of my former apartment. I couldn't rightfully go through the front door; the darkness here shielded me from prying eyes and busybodies who'd alarm everyone if they saw me. Instead, I leapt upwards, guided by the wolf; I dug my claws into the concrete wall, and hung there for a moment until I got my paws embedded into the wall as well. It was bizarre how easily manmade materials, no matter how strong, could be torn apart by primal nature. I suppose it was something similar to the dandelion growing from concrete, but amplified a thousand times; effectively, it felt, nothing constructed by humans could really withstand my claws. Of course, there was one substance that proved an exception, and you, the reader, probably already know what it was, but I wouldn't encounter it until later.

I bounded up the wall. This time of the night everyone was asleep, and the thump-thump-thump of me digging my claws into solid stone wouldn't wake anyone; not anyone living in this city. Traffic was loud, construction was loud, and I knew from experience living here that the neighbours were very loud too, often at night. Of course, those people wouldn't be asleep, but they wouldn't be bothered by noise themselves. As long as nobody in the building on the opposite side happened to be at their window, I would be safe. Halfway through my climb I realized that if I were to look down, I'd almost certainly fall, overcome with vertigo even as a wolf. I steeled myself and continued upwards, steadily climbing. It must've been a terrifying sight, had anyone been there to see it, a black-furred abomination inexorably advancing towards something, impossibly scaling the walls that kept humans feeling safe.

I would've been lying, had I said that it wasn't exciting. It was, and I liked it. Such unfathomable power in every limb, every sinew, every claw. That primordial arousal came back. It seemed like every time I engaged in these vulgar displays of power, it awakened in me a need to fuck and dominate, at least if my alpha wasn't around.

I reached our – his, now – window and dug my claws in deep around it. The lights were off, but I could still see inside, and seeing my old home like that gave me pangs of nostalgia. I wanted it back, in a way, but couldn't. Saudade; a longing for what was lost and could never be returned, but accompanied by a nostalgia with the vaguest hope that it might one day return despite that being impossible, perhaps in another life. I shook it off; the human feelings were still noticeable, but felt more like droplets of rain on a lilypad than the pouring rain that previously soaked me to the bone, in my former life.

I hung there only for a moment, and then dug my claws into the window frame. They slid through wood and metal swiftly and silently, which was exactly what I wanted; I had to not make too much noise, especially not breaking glass. Luckily, with some strength, I managed to force the window open with a quiet snap, and then I was inside. Now, if ever, the memories came flooding back with all the familiar scents assaulting my nose. My old apartment, and even the familiar, comforting smell of my spouse.

But I had a job to do. I slowly padded to the bedroom, as quietly as my hulking shape could, through my former things, my former rooms. That's where I found him, fast asleep. I could see him clear as day despite the darkness, and he was sleeping without his blankets on. Somewhere in my suppressed human consciousness I wanted to cuddle him, wake him up with a kiss, but the werewolf had other ideas. Now, I had to formulate the second part of my plan. How would I turn him?

If I bit him, he might go to the doctors. The doctors were all paid off by Ambicorp, I had been told, which might be bad. Of course, we could kidnap him after I bit him, but that felt too cruel, too inhumane. Not that cursing him either way wasn't cruel and inhumane, but at least it gave pleasure rather than mortal terror. As such, I settled for mating him, breeding him full of werewolf seed. Was there ever any question, really? My sheath had been uncomfortably swollen ever since I saw him, with just a little bit of my red, animalistic cock peeking out.

Now, how would I do that? I remembered Stephen's musk had an aphrodisiac effect on me. In fact, truly, his whole being had that effect, and it'd sapped my resistance very effectively. The question was whether or not I had that same ability, yet.

I crept closer. Close enough that he must've been smelling me in his dreams, and waited. The night was still young, there was no need to hurry; instead, I bided my time, watching his reaction. He was nude apart from his boxers, the apartment warm enough to allow sleeping like that, although his light brown skin had goosebumps. Was it like that when I first saw him, or was it my presence that caused it?

He turned over onto his back, tossing and turning in his sleep as always. I remembered many nights when he'd accidentally slapped an arm across my chest while doing that. I'd deal with the nostalgia later, I resolved; now, it was time for action.

I saw that his boxers were starting to tent. He'd always been rather well-endowed, but this was clearly a growing erection. It wasn't instant, but I was a young werewolf. Still, it showed that my scent did have some effect on him. He spoke something incoherent that sounded like a moan and I took a step back, but it was just him sleep-talking. I watched with growing arousal of my own as he writhed and how his cock swelled, hidden away only by the thin fabric of his underwear. Soon enough, if I woke him, he'd be all too willing to accept being mounted, with that primordial lust coursing through him.

With the gentle press of a claw, I sliced open those alluring boxers, letting his thick cock flop out. It was as beautiful as I remembered it being, but it wasn't what I'd be paying attention to today. Still, I carefully leaned over and gave his length a long lick, watching his every move to see if he'd stir from his slumber. He didn't; instead I heard a silent mmph, and his hips weakly thrust upwards to meet my lupine tongue. He tasted a little sweaty, and as my tongue lapped around his tip, I could taste his tangy precum as well. It wasn't as tasty as that of us beasts and nowhere near as plentiful, but I knew he was about ready to be bred.

I softly rolled him over, revealing his luscious ass to me. I clambered on top of him, raising him into a proper doggy position with his rear raised invitingly. I no longer cared if he woke up; he would, once I properly mounted him.

I nudged my swollen rod between his cheeks.

“Wh- wha- oh, man, that feels good…" he mumbled, half-awake and fully under the spell of my pheromones, of the primal lust that infused every cell of my being.

I found my mark, and slowly sunk my cock into him, growling in satisfaction. It was the first time I'd been on top since my transformation, and it felt wonderful. I twitched, shuddered, and felt myself throb inside his body. Precum, I thought. Much more plentiful and intense than for humans.

My spouse was awake now, but not really all there. He pushed back, suddenly, forcing my cock into him to the hilt. “Oh, fuck me…" he moaned. For a brief moment, I thought he'd recognized me, and realized that I had returned to him, but his eyes were glazed over with lust and he seemed barely conscious. No, what he wanted was a good rutting, and that was what I was going to give him.

I began slowly. My body told me to jackhammer into him, but I resisted. I wanted to enjoy this, and it was at that point I realized I'd become little more than just another werewolf; the act of infecting someone else with our curse was delicious, intensely erotic. I pumped into him slowly, drawing incoherent, muffled moans from him. Every few thrusts it got slicker, my precum lubricating him. My jaws were hanging right above his neck, ready to take that fateful mating bite.

But instead, I teased him. I withdrew almost fully, then slowly, slowly pushed back in, making him moan out loud. The neighbours might complain, but that wouldn't be either of our problems. I made quick and short thrusts into his receptive ass, long and slow strokes, each one bringing us both closer to orgasm. I loved the way his body gripped me, just as it had when he'd been together. I could feel my knot starting to swell, each clench of his threatening to trap me inside.

“I don't- hhrrgh- know if you can even hear me…" I murmured. “But you'll be full of my seed soon, and then you'll be like me."

I wasn't very good at the dirty talk.

I let him breed himself on my cock for a while, rocking back and forth, willingly penetrating his body with my lupine shaft, drawing closer and closer to the point of no return. I wondered if I'd have time to watch him turn. Stephen had explained that they'd be there to take care of that and that I had to be gone before he recognized me, but he'd hardly be able to while in the grip of transformation.

I grinded my hips against his, my balls slapping into his with each gyrating thrust. I felt like this was my purpose, right then and there; rutting other males and turning them into one of us. The thought was so arousing that I found my knot having swollen fully, my balls tightened up as familiar feelings welled through my loins.

I could've knotted him, but I didn't want to hurt him. Human nostalgia. Just as I was about to seed him, a new scent reached my nose, that of human cum. He'd sprayed his load all over the bedsheets, and almost immediately went limp underneath me. I pushed as deep as I could go, and let out a triumphant howl as my bestial orgasm coursed through me. I bit down into his neck by sheer instinct, as if to hold him in place. I could feel his inside gripping me as I painted them white with thick, pearly and very infectious lycanthropic seed. Over and over I throbbed, like I hadn't cum in weeks. It was better than any human orgasm; it was like I was pouring my very essence into him, in utterly pleasurable spasms that rocked my whole body, lupine cock jumping inside of my mate as it just kept filling him. I could already see the changes starting to occur, and for him, the first sign was a tail bursting forth. A white, fluffy tail, from which a white pelt began to spread.

He was mostly covered in fur by the time I pulled out, still dribbling semen on the floor. I had turned my first, and it'd have been a moment for reflection, but then I heard two familiar voices behind me. Emily and Stephen. The latter was in his wolf form, simply staring at me while growling, while the other spoke.

“Well, well, well. Nicely done. You really filled that poor guy up. We'll take it from here, though. Good thing you didn't knot him or we'd have had to pull you apart by force!" he laughed, a manic giggle.

“But what-“ I began, and was immediately interrupted by an angry, deep rumble from Stephen.

“Now, you get out. Same way you got in. And return to our lair. We'll take your mate here somewhere else when he finishes transforming," she explained.

I glanced over at my spouse. His ears had grown into big, pointed wolf ears, and his limbs were in the process of restructuring themselves for the very first time. To me, it looked beautiful, for some perverse reason. Perhaps the same way parents think their babies beautiful.

I wanted to stay, but I knew I couldn't. I couldn't risk any of the plan, not at this point. Without a word, I loped to the window, my dripping cock slowly retreating back into its fuzzy, black sheath. I leapt out, catching myself on the opposite building, and slowly descended. It wasn't easy, but the post-orgasmic bliss had me on autopilot. Nobody saw me, and as I reached the ground again, I disappeared into the dark alleys of the city, once again joining that unseen part of urban life, but luckily, this time on my way out.