Shades of Werewolf

by T. S. Ryder

  I lick her down to her sparsely-haired pussy, moistening her already wet labia with my tongue. Her body tenses as I push my tongue into her virgin pussy, but I work down her until her body relaxes again. Her juices are trickling down. I spit on my finger and push it inside her, relaxing her even further. I get back on top and bury my face in her tits, pushing another finger up her cunt. She lets out a small moan when I push in the third finger, her body responding to the fingering, her breathing getting heavier. I stop when she gets close, wanting an explicit response from her.

  “Harrod,” she says, in a quivering voice.

  “What?”

  “Please don’t stop.”

  “You want me inside you,” I say, forcing her to look at me. She nods. I push my cock between her legs, pressing her legs closer together, rubbing the entire 7.5 inches against her virginity, giving her a taste of what’s to come. Her flowing juices lubricate it already. I know she’s ready.

  I tower over her and spit on my cock, rubbing the head against the pink folds of her opening. She arches her back, desperate for it. I push inside her slowly, just the head. Her hand shoots up and presses into my chest. “Stop,” she says, moving her ass to force my cock out. “It hurts.”

  “It will be alright,” I say, reassuring her. Her pussy is too tight and my cock too big for it. “Trust me,” I say.

  She nods. I get on top and pin her in place. I cover her mouth with mine, “Trust me.” I don’t move until she stops squirming under me. Her pussy is so tight that my cock is squished tightly into it. It’s almost uncomfortable for me. Her insides are stretched, pushing to return to their normal position, putting pressure on my cock from all sides. She moves slightly, a gentle motion with her hips. She’s ready.

  I don’t want to cause pain or damage. I remember my ex-girlfriend had to see a gynecologist for vaginal tearing after her first time. When she’s ready, she wraps her arm around my neck and pulls me close, bringing my mouth to hers, kissing me. I start moving slowly, focusing on her pleasure. The more she responds, the faster I fuck. All the while my mouth is on hers. She kisses me tightly, passionately, the intensity of her mouth reflecting the speed of my thrusts. I can feel myself dripping pre-cum inside her. Then I pick her up, my cock still inside her, and push her against the tree. We don’t talk. Her eyes are closed. I start fucking her harder and she suppresses her moans at first. Her breathing gets heavier and her moans get louder. Her nails start digging into my back, scratching along the length.

  “I’m close,” I say. “Fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come inside you.”

  “Harder,” she mumbles in a quivering voice, her body tense, ready for release.

  I push her back on the grass and start fucking her the way she wants me to now. I pull all the way out, leaving her empty for a second, then push in with a swift thrust. She’s enjoying this, I can tell from her face and her moans. In and out, faster. The water splashes as our wet, naked bodies come close to relief. She wraps her legs tightly around me as she reaches her orgasm, shooting her warm juice onto my cock. I want to pull out but I’m so close I can’t stop myself. She moans loudly as she comes, and I pant heavily, climaxing, shooting my load inside her in three huge spurts. I crash on top of her and plant a kiss on her cheek.

  “That was…” she struggles to find words.

  “Amazing,” I say.

  I turn around and bring her on top of me, her cheek pressed against my heart. We lie there until it gets too cold and wet. When we get up, she’s a mess. Her body has dirt all over it, and there is grass in her messy hair bun. She gets up and struggles to walk, and it looks horrifying for a second. She can’t walk straight. But she smiles at me and I know it’s all right. She picks up our clothes and walks back to me with a lopsided gait. I see our mixed juices flowing between her legs. She presses her hand to her pussy, then squints to look at it.

  “I am bleeding,” she says.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, planting a kiss on her forehead.

  “It’s okay.” We start walking back naked. There seems to be no point in putting on the wet clothes now. She takes six steps and stops. “Harrod, I can’t walk. It hurts.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll carry you.”

  “My clothes are wet. What are we gonna do?”

  “Walk back naked,” I say with a grin.

  “What if someone sees us?”

  I scoop her up in my arms and carry her back. “Who cares?”

  When we reach the stairs, I put her back on her feet. We run back inside, laughing, soaking wet, dripping on the carpet all the way until we reach my bedroom. I follow her into the shower but she tells me she wants to shower alone so I leave her and fill the Jacuzzi instead. I lie back in the hot water, picturing her washing herself. I wonder how she feels. She steps out of the shower, a towel wrapped around, her curly, wet hair falling to her side. She sits on the side of the Jacuzzi and tests the water with her finger.

  “This is nice and warm,” she says.

  “You’re welcome to join. We can do it all over again.” I’m getting hard again already.

  She shakes her head. “I don’t think I can do it again for a month.”

  “Come on in,” I say, grabbing her arm. She squeals as I pull her in.

  “No sex,” she says.

  “Okay,” I say. She’s back on my lap again, my hard cock pressing into her back. “Let’s just have this bath together.” I massage her supple, tired body.

  “That was incredible,” she says.

  “If it was then why don’t you want to do it again?”

  “I do, of course. I just…not right now. I’m really sore.” I massage her pussy softly with my fingers. I can already feel that it’s not as tight as it was moments ago. “You’re a cool guy,” she throws in as an afterthought.

  We get out of the bath. “I don’t have any clothes for you,” I say. “But Gabe will have them washed and clean by the time you wake up. Until then, you are sleeping with me, naked.”

  “That sounds nice,” she says.

  Once we get in bed, we make out for a while. I want to take her from behind, slap her full ass-cheeks as I bury myself inside her, but I know she isn’t up for it. Then I remember coming inside her.

  “Sorry I came inside you, but you wrapped your legs around me. I couldn’t pull out.”

  “It’s fine,” she says dismissively. “I’ve read stuff. Nothing happens if you don’t wear a condom once.”

  I wake up before she does in the morning, with morning wood. I haven’t desired a woman so much ever before, but then no woman has ever said no to me. She hasn’t really turned me down, though. I understand why she can’t fuck again just yet.

  Gabe takes our clothes to the laundry, and we head down to the dining room for breakfast in towels. The towel is too small for her, and half her cleavage is already hanging out. It keeps falling off until she finally throws it aside.

  We wait until she gets her clothes back, lying on the sofa, whispering sweet nothings to each other. She leaves soon after her clothes are returned from the laundry.

  “It was really nice, Harrod.”

  “What was?” I ask.

  She blushes. “You know what. All of it.”

  “Likewise.”

  “So, I’ll…see you around?” she wagers.

  “You bet you will.”

  Chapter Seven - The Reunion

  Harrod

  When my dad returns from work that night, he calls me into his room.

  “Harrod,” he begins. “Have you given any thought to what we talked about the other day?”

  “I thought it was a dream, or that you were joking,” I say.

  “Tell me, Harrod,” he says in an ominous tone. “In all the time you have known me, do I come across as a person who jokes or fucks around with people?”

  I shake my head.

  “Then why would I joke about who we are?”

  “It’s just hard to believe, to take in all this supernatural stuff just because
you say so.”

  “Very well,” he says. “You will head to the farmlands tomorrow. I’ll let Grandpa know you’re coming. I am sure you’ll be excited to see your brother. The next full moon is not for another three weeks. You will have plenty of time to understand and get used to things. As you have implied, you will believe things when you see them.”

  “You can’t be serious,” I say. I have always wanted to go to the farmlands, but my dad has never allowed me. Now that I can actually go, I’m not sure whether I’m excited or not.

  “I am. I’ll send in your clearance early. You leave at noon tomorrow. It’s best to get there while the sun is out. Pack your things.”

  “Okay,” I say, excited.

  Around 11:30 the next day, Gabe knocks on my door. “Sir, the jet will be ready to depart in half an hour. I have already loaded your bags.”

  I walk down the stairs and across the gardens to the runway. The heat is radiating from the dark asphalt, as though there’s water boiling underneath. After the security swipe, the officers clear me to go. I hop on board and prepare for a reunion with my brother. I wonder what he’ll be like, how tall he’ll be, whether he’ll have missed me, what his personality will be like, etc.

  I fall asleep soon after take-off. When I wake up, I head to the pilot’s cabin.

  “Drew? I didn't know you could fly planes.”

  “It’s how your father prefers it,” he says.

  “And why is there no hostess on board?”

  “Your father’s instructions.”

  “Weird,” I say.

  “Oh, you have no idea,” he says savagely. “Enjoy the view,” he says. “We’re almost there.”

  I go back to my seat and open the shutter. All I see down below are snow-capped mountains and jumbo trees. If I didn’t know better, I’d wager we were in the Swiss Alps, but it takes a lot longer to get there, so I know we’re still in the States.

  “Buckle up,” says Drew, over the speakers. “It’s gonna get bumpy.”

  We land on a small runway in a clearing. Drew opens the door and ushers me out. “I have to head back. They’ll be here soon.”

  “Who will be here?” I ask. “Where am I, Drew? There’s nothing here.”

  “Your Grandpa has been alerted of your arrival. He’ll come pick you up.”

  Drew unloads my luggage and leaves it a little off the runway, then gets back into the plane, nods to me and closes the door. I watch as he turns the plane around, taxis and flies off, disappearing into the clouds. Then I look around. The runway is just a small patch of road that leads nowhere. There are no roads or buildings around. I am standing in a forest on a mountain surrounded by trees. The trees look familiar, like the giant ones I saw in my dreams, but the place is different.

  “Hello,” I holler into the emptiness around me. “Is there anyone here?”

  There’s a rustling in the trees and the distant howl of a wolf.

  “Grandpa,” I shout again, the word tasting strange in my mouth. I can’t really remember the last time I talked to him or saw him. I’d probably seen him back when Harrison was with us. I almost want to run into the woods, out of the clearing, but I stay where I am. I pull out my phone to call my dad but there’s no service here.

  Then I hear more howls, closer this time, more terrifying. I take a step back and look around, looking for some tree to climb up in case wild animals attack. In the distance, I see two figures approaching. I can’t tell whether they’re human or not. The white clouds are close to the ground, reducing the visibility.

  A man with white hair approaches, with a woman who seems to be in her early forties.

  “Harrod,” he shouts, arms opening wide.

  “Grandpa?”

  “It’s been so long,” he says, hugging me tightly. He’s surprisingly strong for his age. “Oh, boy, I have waited for this for so long.” He kisses me on the cheek, and I pull back.

  “How are you?”

  “I must be a stranger to you,” he says. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me. You sound so formal.”

  “That’s natural,” I say. “You just disappeared from my life.”

  “You’ll learn we aren’t big on formalities here, boy.” Then he looks at the woman standing next to him. “This is Mishayev. She’ll be your guide and trainer here and will see to all your needs.”

  Mishayev smiles and shakes my hand firmly. Her hair is a mix of gray and black streaks, and I can’t tell whether it is white with black streaks or the other way around. She looks intimidating.

  “Let’s head back to the village,” he says. “It’s gonna any time now.”

  There’s nothing to guide us, no landmarks, no signs, not even a trail. But Grandpa and Mishayev seem to know their way and go through the woods like expert navigators, toward what they call The Den.

  When I hear the word Den, all I can think of is stone caves, like the ones I’d seen in The Jungle Book. After fifteen minutes of ambling through the woods, we reach a large fence, thick as prison bars, with two guys wearing fur coats standing guard inside. They let us in and Grandpa turns to me.

  “So, first things first. Stay away from the fences, they are high voltage. We aren’t immune to electricity. Don’t go outside without talking to me first. Our Den is vast, so you won’t have to go out. There’s nothing for you outside anyway. You are safe only as long as you are inside the fenced boundary.”

  “Okay.”

  The trees inside the fence are sparse, taller and mostly crooked, forming a roof over the clearing. There are wooden cabins here and there, with smoke emitting from the chimneys. A large fireplace is set in what seems like a sitting area, and a few guys sitting around the fire drinking. There’s a deer suspended above the fire on a stick to cook.

  There’s a great hustle bustle all around, with some children running wild and playing. But my eyes fix on a guy walking towards us. The hairs on my arms stick up as if I’ve been electrocuted as he comes closer. I look into his eyes. There’s something about them, something familiar. My soul trembles when I see him and tears well up in my eyes. It’s as if I’m getting something that I never even knew I longed for.

  He’s the same height as me. He’s wearing a fur coat, which looks as though he made it himself. He picks up the pace when he sees me and jogs toward us. Unlike the movies, nothing dramatic happens. He looks at my grandpa with innocent eyes.

  “Grandpa, I don’t really—” I begin.

  “Grandpa?” the guy says, a look of surprise and shock on his face. His mouth moves but no words come out, as his eyes fix on me.

  It’s got to be him. I know it is him. Tears are running down my cheeks.

  “Harrison?”

  Chapter Eight - The Training

  Harrod

  In the days that follow, Harrison and Grandpa familiarize me with the area, the family history and, yes, werewolves. Harrison and I catch up on each other’s lives. There is a slight awkwardness between us, but there is a force that draws us to each other. The brotherly bond we have, it seems, never died or broke. Cellphones don’t work here, but there is a landline. I talk to Siobhan almost every night. It seems like things are going somewhere. She wants to meet and asks me where I am, but I just tell her I am visiting my Grandpa. I never pictured myself living in a forest, but now that I’m here it’s not so bad. I just wish Siobhan could be here. During my second week, when we sit by the fire, my Grandpa tells me that I’m a late bloomer, but it is time for me to unleash the inner wolf. Somehow, in spite of everything, I don’t really believe any of this.

  “So, Harrod,” says Grandpa, as we sit by the fire and roast the day’s game. “Are you still having those dreams?”

  “It’s funny,” I say. “I almost forgot about those. I haven’t had any since coming here.”

  He nods thoughtfully. “You are where you are supposed to be.”

  “Time to show him,” says Harrison.

  “He needs time,” says Grandpa.

  But Harrison gets up, doffs
his clothes and stands naked before us.

  “What are you doing?” I ask. No one around the fire is surprised by him getting naked. They all act like it’s normal.

  Then Harrison starts jerking, bending out of shape, his limbs twisting at unnatural angles. He yowls, but ten seconds later he has transformed into a wolf. I am gobsmacked. I look at Grandpa, at everyone around me, and no one finds this weird.

  “Harrison, you are freaking me out,” I say, in a panicked voice.

  Grandpa pats me on the shoulder, and then he follows my brother’s lead. One by one they all shift and I am surrounded by wolves. I look up at the sky, at the thin moon. It is like Déjà vu, exactly like my dreams, except that the full moon is missing. Mishayev comes out from behind a tree and tells me that it is time to start my training.

  “Everything will be easy, boy,” she says. “The only part that’s going to suck, and you know that I don’t exaggerate things, will be the first shifting.”

  “As in?”

  “As in, come full moon you will shift into a werewolf. None of us can keep ourselves from shifting during a full moon. Why do you think your dad comes here every full moon?”

  “To hunt,” I say. “It’s just once a month, randomly. He never said anything about the full moon.”

  “The full moon doesn’t follow your calendar dates. Anyway, even a person as strong as your father can’t resist it. You will be coming with him from now on.”

  “Do all werewolves have to be here every full moon?”

  “No, they don’t,” she replies politely. She thinks for a moment. “But after what happened with Harrison and your mother, we believe it is for the best if they are.”

  “What happened that night?”

  “Your father used to lock himself in his study during full moons. Your mother had a spare key because she was working on renovating the study.”

  “Then?”

  “This one night she had forgotten something in there. She unlocked the door and there he was, shifting. Your brother was in her arms. They saw the whole thing, the complete shift from man to wolf. She lost it after that. We tried to talk some sense into her, but she was hell-bent on getting the word out. But then she lost it completely.”