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Music pulsed through the condo, and Aaliyah maneuvered through the crowd. It had been a while since she’d been to a party like this; medical school was not known for bountiful free time, after all. But Courtney had insisted that she needed to get out to stay sane, and what better excuse than Halloween to dress up in a cool costume and unwind?

But Courtney had flaked out relatively early on into the evening and so Aaliyah was left alone, trying to navigate a party she was increasingly unsure she wanted to be here for. She passed other students in their costumes; they ranged from shitty to spectacular, one dude—a toilet paper mummy—looking even more humiliating next to an 18th-century count who looked like he stepped right out of a swashbuckling flick. While there were a couple of decent outfits for the ladies, Aaliyah increasingly rolled her eyes at how many of her fellow girls clearly had one thing on their minds. In the past minute alone she’d run into slutty nurse, slutty teacher, slutty Darth Vader… talk about uninspired.

Aaliyah didn’t begrudge her fellow ladies attempts to charm men to bed; it had been a while since she’d had a good lay herself. But for God’s sake, at least have some class about it.

When a group of drunken fratbros started up beer pong, she decided she was done with this scene, and maneuvered her way into the kitchen for something that was hopefully a touch more sedate. Stepping onto the tiled floor, she stopped dead at the greatest costume she’d ever seen.

The guy looked like he had just stepped off the set of a high-budget horror flick. He had to be standing a good six-and-a-half feet, and he had the confidence to go shirtless with a pair of loose-fitting cargo shorts underneath. But there wasn’t any bare skin on display. He was dressed as the Wolfman—or some sort of werewolf—with slatey charcoal fur covering every available inch of his body. Aaliyah recalled that the actresses in Wicked actually dyed their skin green for the role; she’d thought that an insane level of dedication, one which this guy had clearly applied to his outfit.

Wolfy’s chest was appreciably muscled underneath his fur; not to the extremes of a bodybuilder, but the more realistic, appealing sculpt of a believable athlete. His arms were folded and Aaliyah noted with approval that he’d even taken the effort to coat his fingers in fur, his nails trimmed into long claws. What had to be Hollywood-level makeup gave him the appearance of a wolf’s snout and peaked ears with a predator’s hungry eyes underneath. A long tail that reminded her of her uncle’s husky swished lazily behind him. Incredibly, even his feet appeared canine, resting digitigrade on the floor (these she assumed were special boots or shoes.)

He caught her staring and the muzzle twisted in a smirk that made her want to faint. Unfolding his arms, Wolfy strode across the kitchen in confident strides, the few others melting out of his way. Up close, Aaliyah could see that even his nose appeared black and wet and shiny up close. How had he done it?

“Little red, little red,” he murmured, and oh fuck, his voice sounded like red velvet cake given form: low, luscious, smooth, addicting. Already Aaliyah found herself idly tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a classic tic of hers for nervous excitement. “What big eyes you have indeed.”

She blushed. She’d almost forgotten her own costume… Little Red Riding Hood, a crimson mantle done up over an old-fashioned dress and shoes she’d found when thrift store hunting. A wicker basket in the crook of her arm (empty; she wasn’t an idiot) completed the look.

Well, it looked like little red had found the Big Bad Wolf.

“Hey,” she replied stupidly, immediately chastising herself for not saying something smarter, sexier, more appealing, but that god damn impeccable voice rumbled a laugh out of his rich chest.

“Hey,” replied Wolfy playfully, his eyes gleaming, and Aaliyah felt her breath catch.

“That’s… one hell of a costume,” she said. “You a makeup artist or something? Hollywood’s gonna love you.”

He rolled his shoulders lazily, his tail ‘wagging’ once (and she had to admire his dedication to the role), but he looked pleased. “Nope, not a makeup artist. Not theater either.”

“Then… who? How?”

Wolfy turned his head out the window and Aaliyah followed his gaze. Outside, just visible over the treetops, the bright orb of the full moon was coming into view as the cold autumn wind chased the clouds away.

Ah, so he was that committed to his bit. Normally, that would be a bit nerdy… but something about his sheer passion for it—plus his stature and physique—made it exotic rather than lame.

God damn, she wanted him.

Swallowing with excitement, positive that she would have one hell of a story to share with Courtney the following day, Aaliyah drew in close to Wolfy. “Can I…?” she ventured.

“Go ahead,” he said with what might have been amusement. She threaded her fingers through his fur, not knowing what to expect. She’d figured he’d probably used dog fur for the outfit, but this wasn’t like her uncle’s husky… it was stiff but not coarse or unpleasant, definitely the fur of something wild. Had he actually gotten real wolf fur? How?

Stroking her fingers lower, she found the warmth of the skin underneath and felt a rumble of pleasure thread through Wolfy’s chest. Darting her eyes lower, was it just her—or was there the beginnings of a tent in those cargo shorts?

The kitchen was only mostly empty, and a chorus of titters and whispers surrounded her and Wolfy. “Fuck this scene,” Aaliyah whispered, pitching her voice for him to hear. “Let’s go somewhere private.”

He exhaled once, softly, brimming with tension. “Private?”

“You know,” she said, scarcely believing what she was about to propose, excited beyond belief. “Upstairs.”

His eyes alit with delight.

---

The room was tight, clearly an office or something similar that had been repurposed. A cheap mattress had been thrown down in the corner. Aaliyah didn’t mind. She shut the door and dimmed the lights as Wolfy strode across to the window and snapped up the blinds. The radiance of the full moon blasted through the window, bathing them both in pale light. A distant untz-untz-untz could still be felt from downstairs and the sounds of the crowd were present as a low murmur, but Aaliyah was used to drowning out noise. She didn’t care. The night seemed alive with Halloween magic.

“So how do you want to take this, little red?” Wolfy asked, leaning against the wall. His arms were folded again, claws on display, his tail curling around his legs.

“I want to touch you again,” Aaliyah breathed, and when he nodded, looking eager, she crossed to him. Once more, his fur played under her touch, so firm and warm, so exotic. He reached down a hand and stroked her cheek with the back of one finger, the caress making her feel wild.

The two of them explored one another’s bodies with their hands, her reaching up to appreciate the sculpted form under that fur and trace his rigid collarbone, him stroking her neck and cheek and tracing lower to her chest. She breathed in once, sharply, but murmured for him to continue, so Wolfy slipped his hand under her shirt, and his firm grasp played against her breast. She moaned with arousal, feeling her loins heat up, coating with slick as she grew wet, and she dipped her hand under his cargo shorts. There it was… an incredible, thick rod. From his size alone she’d expected—_hoped—_he’d be big, and it seemed she would not be disappointed.

Amazingly, it seemed his dedication to costumecraft extended so far as to even gird his loins with the same fur that coated the rest of him. Aaliyah couldn’t see it, but she could feel its roughness brushing her hand, right up to the base of his cock.

Or was it costumecraft? To have put glue—or whatever—around his sack and penis would have been uncomfortable at best. And she was cogent of the moonlight still seeping in through the window. A full moon’s night… Halloween magic… and here she was, with a wolfman of her own…

Maybe this was a dream or something else, but she didn’t care. Med school was eating her alive. She deserved to indulge from time to time.

“What big eyes you have,” he said, an echo of their first meeting. God, that voice—_how could it be human? How could something be so deep, so untamed, so _enticing?

_“_That’s not the wolf’s line,” she murmured back. “It’s red’s.”

“Say it, then,” he prompted.

“What big eyes you have…”

He rumbled with delight and surprisingly dexterous fingers slipped under her shirt, finding the clasp to her bra and unworking it. “The better to see you with, my dear.”

The smell of arousal was in the air. Aaliyah could feel how wet she was, and his cock pulsed under her touch. “What big ears you have_…”_

Said ears flapped once in delight. “The better to hear you with, my dear.”

Her bra hit the floor and he got to work on her shirt, moving slow and indulgently, his hands drifting across her breasts and her back. Eventually, the shirt dropped too—leaving Aaliyah topless except for the red hood itself and her dark brown skin, glistening slightly with sweat under the moonlight.

She managed to wrest her hands from his cock to parrot his actions, lowering the shorts and boxers. In the pale light of the moon, his cock was fully on display, and her eyes widened. This was… not a human penis. It couldn’t have been. It was big, and tapered slightly, and even a bit red…

Some part of Aaliyah wondered if this was just a dream, another part of her was demanding that she take a step back and think about all this—but then one fur-coated hand slipped to the hemline of her panties and lowered them while the other cupped her chin and lifted her gaze to hungry amber eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness, eyes that threatened to swallow her.

He was grinning.

“What a big mouth you have…” she muttered.

Wolfy leaned low, holding her tight, burying his muzzle into the crook of her shoulder. “The better to taste you with, my dear,” he murmured, and then, quick as lightning, he maneuvered her against the wall, hands splayed flat, body naked, and she was quivering with anticipation and wonder, his red canine cock tickling her pussy.

And then the real fun began.

He pressed inside and she arched, moaning, feeling the totality of it in her. It was unreal… the whole thing was unreal. It had to be.

His voice low and luscious, Wolfy began to fuck her.

Aaliyah moaned and pushed against him, or tried to, and she felt the rumble of pleasure sparking within his body. He was strong, effortlessly keeping her pinned, his fur-coated, claw-tipped hands keeping her good and locked against the wall. Hot breath cascaded over her shoulder and then she shuddered as she felt something warm and hot drag its away along her. She gasped—he was licking her. It didn’t feel like a man’s tongue, but like a dog’s. A wolf’s.

This all felt so real…

I might be in trouble, Aaliyah thought to herself, only for the worry to rush out of her head with one especially fierce thrust. She keened.

Wolfy kept at it, hunched over her, angling his hips to slide in and out of Aaliyah. God, he was so big—bigger than any man she’d ever had, the sensation making her go wild with ecstasy. Every spear and push made her wild, and he didn’t move gently, either; he was dressed as an animal—or was one, perhaps—and fucked like one: raw, ferocious, hungry.

The music from the party below continued to throb through the room, pulsing against her flesh; impossibly, Wolfy seemed to be rutting her in time with the beat, his thick rod slamming into her over and over and over again. Despite his size, he didn’t have to force his way in; his slightly tapered shape and Aaliyah’s own wetness made things relatively smooth, his red cock gliding in and out, her cunt just tight enough to pepper them both with heavy pleasure.

He sank even closer, pressing her body against the wall, her breasts and cheek squishing against the firmness as his fur tickled her ass and thighs and the small of her back. He licked her again, his warm tongue leaving a glistening trail along her neck to dance on the lobe of her ear. He picked up his pace, going madcap; he fucked as bestial as he looked, his drive raw and unrepentant, driving her wild; it was all she could do not to just roll her eyes back and succumb to sheer bliss. She felt like a wild bitch, surrendering herself to a proud, dominant mate.

Another rumble of delight pushed through his chest, making her quake, and he slammed home, and she keened as suddenly she felt herself spreading wider—

And in the back of her mind Aaliyah began to panic. “W-wait,” she said, “pull out first… you’re not wearing a rubber…”

His rich velvet voice carried only a whiff of apology. “Canines don’t work that way,” he said. “Too late. The knot’s tied us together now_…”_

Knot, she thought, realizing that was what was spreading her apart. Holy fuck. No one could imitate that with makeup. It was… this was real.

He was real.

She was fucking a werewolf, and he was knotting her, and then he unleashed a high, prideful howl as he came, and Aaliyah matched him in wordless bliss, her vagina fluttering impossibly and clenching around a thick knot it had never expected to take, and she was left adrift on a sea of pleasure. When she came down, cresting from orgasm, they were still knotted, intimately, unrepentantly tied and Wolfy’s voice ate at her like an addict’s fix: “You don’t just want one, do you?”

She knew better. She really shouldn’t have. But this was too incredible, too magical, to turn down.

“You know it,” she replied.

And he fucked her through the night.

---

She never saw him again—at least not in that form—but she hadn’t expected to.

November 1st, she was sore enough to commit the cardinal sin of med school and call out of class and work, claiming illness. Any lingering regrets she might have had_—especially_ about him cumming in her; she took the pill, of course, but was still uncertain—were overshadowed by how incredible the night had been. They’d finally wound down shortly before dawn.

As Halloween receded more and more in the past, Aaliyah found herself wondering if she’d been imagining Wolfy’s… unusual qualities, or if memory was playing tricks on her. She was studying to be a doctor. People didn’t just turn into wolves. That was nonsense.

November rushed like a river, everything coming much too fast. The semester was winding down and she had far, far too much to do. Whole days went by without her so much as remembering Wolfy or that incredible night on Halloween.

The changes she first attributed to stress. Sometimes feeling flushed or hot during the day, waking up nauseous or slightly dizzy. It was normal. Studying to be a doctor was rough on the brain, and mental health affected the physical. She didn’t think too much of it.

Until the 29th of November. The first full moon since Halloween.

All throughout the day, Aaliyah felt a bit… anxious. Antsy. The way she’d felt as a little girl while in line for a big roller coaster—both intimidated and wordlessly excited. Anticipation smoldered in the back of her mind.

When the sun went down, she found herself… a touch different.

Oh, she wasn’t a ravenous wolf monster. That was silly. She was increasingly sure that she had embellished or imagined parts of her Halloween encounter. But as the moon rose, she found herself feeling belligerent—aggressive. Snapping at nothing and eager to pick a fight. Her roomies had avoided her that evening. She also felt a bit itchy on her arms and legs.

And that wasn’t the only change. Some strangely animalistic urge came over her, and she spent the evening stroking her modest tummy, feeling strangely confident, almost protective and maternal. It was a nameless, primal impulse she couldn’t curb.

The following day the impulses were gone, and so were the itchiness and the weird maternal instincts, but Aaliyah couldn’t shake a quiet fear. She had missed her monthly time, though that was not unusual for individuals under stress. A few days into December, she bought a pregnancy test just to give herself peace of mind.

It came back showing two lines.

She stared at it wordlessly, trying to grapple with what was happening. She’d taken the pill the morning after. She hadn’t slept with anyone recently, besides Wolfy. She—

She—

She swallowed dryly. She was in serious trouble.

---

December continued, and with it came the first snows and the end of the semester. Aaliyah somehow managed to make it through all her labs and assignments without losing her mind. She hadn’t told anyone what was happening, about the things that were growing inside of her. (Things, plural; she somehow knew, knew, that she was carrying more than one.) She still barely showed. Her roommates and Courtney only delivered lighthearted jabs about stress weight, and even that dread-filled return home for Christmas went fine, with her parents and siblings not noticing or commenting on how she ever-so-slightly filled out more than usual.

She made sure to be back on campus shortly after Christmas, however. Another full moon was due the 29th.

Aaliyah spent it locked up in her room, grunting and groaning, sweat beading on her skin. The itchiness had returned, and there was a weird tension to her bones. The whole sensation was stronger than it had been last month. The maternal feeling had returned, stronger than before, and small, sensitive dots appeared on her stomach. Her nails grew, too; long and pointed and sharp, like Wolfy’s. She wasn’t able to trim them until the following morning, where everything went away.

Her roommates noticed the change in her demeanor—how she came to be preoccupied and stressed. Her grades started to slip, though she was far from being in danger of being booted from the program. By late January, anyone with eyes could tell she was pregnant; still modest, but definitely on the cusp between the first and second trimesters. Her roommates had tried to talk to her about it, and their voices had withered under a cold, angry glare. Courtney had tried to get Aaliyah to open up, been rebuffed; a few days later Aaliyah’s mother had called her out of the blue, demanding to know what was happening. Courtney had spilled the beans. Aaliyah had gotten short and cross with her, as she had with anyone who stuck their nose in her affairs.

She had very little free time, but much of it was spent in the library. The thing about werewolves was that there was no consistent lore. Were they witches? Monsters? Demons? People suffering a curse, or a rare disease? The weakness to silver seemed to have been invented by silent films. Some said the first wolf was the Grecian king Lycaon, who had offended Zeus and been cursed to walk as a monster for it. It was from his name that lycanthropy came. The Norse claimed that berserkers channeled the spirits of beasts like wolves and bears. Could that be what was happening?

A tiny, almost invisible squirm echoed in her tummy, and Aaliyah rubbed it disconcertingly. She’d never been one for mythology, considering it to be bunk. But if Wolfy had really been a lycanthrope, then anything was on the table.

January 28th was the next full moon; according to NASA’s public website, it was the “Wolf Moon.” That had brought a bitter smile to Aaliyah’s lips. She’d arranged to lock herself in her room again for the evening.

Things didn’t go as planned.

The moment the sun dipped behind the horizon, she broke out in a cold sweat, dropping to her hands and knees, trembling with sudden exertion. Her whole body ached like she’d just gone for a long run, the sensation settling in her limbs and joints and tailbone and especially on her face. Just as before, it had increased from the previous month. She could feel her nose growing wetter and darker, her tongue registering the sudden presence of fangs in her mouth, and her hands and feet both became clawed as before. Despite her attempts at keeping secrets, her roommates quickly pounded on the door as groans and shudders wracked through the apartment, and Aaliyah snapped at them in a hoarse voice to leave her alone. In her bizarre, half-transformed state, she paced her tiny room, feeling awash with new sensations—anger, pride, excitability, and an unquenchable drive to engage in the most animalistic of behaviors: to prowl and pursue, fight and fuck.

Patches of coarse hair grew in spots of her body, including her stomach, and she felt the occupants within squirm excitedly.

The following morning, she explained over breakfast that she hadn’t been feeling well the previous evening, and her roommates had looked at her with disapproval, though they kept their voices to themselves. The itchiness had gone away, but she couldn’t stop rubbing her arms.

February passed like a dream; she somehow kept up in classes, if only just, and one of her professors had pulled her aside after, the grey-haired matron awkwardly asking if Aaliyah’s condition was responsible for her sudden slip in grades, pointedly not looking at her tummy as she spoke.

Not the condition you’re thinking of, she thought. She brushed off the woman’s concerns icily and kept at it.

February’s transformation was much like January’s, except that now the urges were too powerful to fight, and Aaliyah had managed to crank open her dorm window and prowl the nighttime campus, feeling awkward and exhilarated in her aching body with its lengthy claw-like nails and hair patching in on various spots.

For future months, she arranged to go camping in remote locations during the full moon instead, blowing off Courtney’s worried insistence that she’d never been outdoorsy.

(She tried not to be angry at Courtney or her roommates or her parents. She could understand why they’d be worried. She would be too, in their place. But what was she supposed to do?)

As winter bled into spring bled into summer, she continued swelling, feeling the squirm of her kids, always active, and she limped her way through med school. She spent more and more time outside, and once a month, from sundown to sunup, she changed in ways that were impossible to describe, growing closer and closer to how she remembered Wolfy each time.

Until finally, July was on her—the ninth full moon since Halloween. She was camping in remote wilderness. It had been a while since she’d attended class. Her friends and family had been insistent that she not take a multi-day camping trip so close to her due date. Aaliyah had blown them off; she’d had to. What else could she do? Squeeze out wolfish offspring in a hospital?

She was in the backcountry alongside a quiet stream, not a campground. There was no one around. There couldn’t be. She didn’t stoke a fire; she’d increasingly found she didn’t need one.

It was the middle of summer, so sunset came late—but when it did, the change settled on her.

And the moment it hit, she knew, finally, that she would be going all the way.

The by-now-familiar strain settled in her joints and bones, and Aaliyah grunted as she felt her limbs change. Her arms didn’t have it so bad; they became lean and muscular, slightly longer than usual, as dark red-brown hair—no, fur—climbed up it. It had been coming in coarser and broader in recent months, but for the first time, it covered all of her. She almost felt relieved.

That was not the only change. Her legs shifted as her ankles seemed to climb higher, her feet repositioning themselves as she walked digitigrade. Fur of the same color coated these limbs as well, and thick pads grew in at the base of her toes.

A pressure asserted itself at the base of her spine. This had been a familiar visitor the past few months, but finally, it managed to unfurl. There was a relief of tension as the tail grew out, quickly growing wide and fluffy, and she wagged it experimentally, feeling like her uncle’s husky. It’s presence felt unusual, almost like a fifth limb.

When her extremities were done transforming, the fur rushed in for her face and torso, which changed at once. Aaliyah arched her head back and howled to the night sky as her face lengthened into a full muzzle, her nose black and wet and shiny, whiskers sprouting. Her ears peaked into points, climbing atop her head, and her kinked hair morphed into fur just like the rest of her body, keeping its hue.

Fur crawled down her pregnant belly, and sensitive nipples budded, quickly expanding and plumping into milk-filled teats only slightly smaller than her chest, which was itself newly furred. The transformation happened in a matter of seconds; when it was complete, Aaliyah was standing there, fully transformed, her tail keeping her from toddling sideways on her digitigrade feet, her new and sharper senses unveiling a symphony of sensation.

She had completely assumed her new form for the first time in her life. A werewolf.

She wanted desperately to try out her new body—lope over mountains, push through leaves under cover of darkness. But she had other duties demanding her attention.

Almost immediately after transforming, she knew it was time. Her young were ready to be born.

Following her instincts, Aaliyah maneuvered herself into a position as close to hands and knees as she could manage. Her tummy was hanging low, swaying with every movement, and she could feel the young within squirming more and more, ready to be born. Steeling herself, the werewolf pushed.

Aaliyah had expected it to be miserably difficult, but it came easy. But then, most creatures didn’t have as hard a time as humans. She felt the weight settle into her birthing canal, traveling down with every push, until the snout crowned her entrance and her first child squeaked its way into the world. A small pup, with hair like a mix of her own reddish-brown and the dark charcoal of its sire, was left coated in juices on the ground. Even as the next pup settled into her canal, she reached down and gently lifted her firstborn by the scruff of its neck, settling it directly underneath one of her teats. All of them were by now dripping milk thanks to gravity and her body’s own readiness. A tiny mouth fixed on her nipple, finding it easily amongst her fur, and she sighed as the milk began to flow.

As her next pup settled into place, Aaliyah succumbed to instinct and let loose a proud howl. The months since Halloween had been mired with doubt and uncertainty, but now that the day was finally here, she felt comfortable and confident. Maybe she hadn’t planned this, but she wasn’t going to spurn it.

Glancing down at the stream waters, a fur-coated, anthro wolfess stared back. She flicked her ears once and then smiled, fangs bared in a grin.

“Little red, little red,” she crooned as she brought a second pup into the world. “My, my, my. What big dreams you have.”