3: Fera - Pack City

by Weldon, Carys

I know it’s an odd time to think about genetics, but suddenly, I wondered...was the pure line I descended from really...an unnatural line? I surely felt more human than wolf, in my thinking, at least.

  My hand, before me, seemed to be losing hairs as I watched it. Not that I was watching it on purpose, just, my eyes had glazed over and were refocusing...on a very human hand.

  Chapter Eight

  “Shit.” Jack pulled away from me. “We need to go somewhere.”

  I shook my head, stepped back and lay down on the grass, pulling him down beside me. “We need to do this first. I can’t think. The pheromones are fogging my brain.”

  Really, I had a fear that I would change over, and he wouldn’t like what he saw. At least in crinos, the pheromones between us would help the consummation process, keep up the attraction. Fear of what was to come and what I had just possibly figured out, had me turning to my instincts in blindness, blocking out my thought processes.

  He chuckled. “Is that what it is? And here I just thought it was love at first sight.”

  I knew he was joking, or thinking it was a joke. Just being clever. But I blinked up at him, drew his hand to my lips and kissed it, then eased my tongue out and sucked his fingers, one by one, into my mouth--watching his face the whole time.

  Slowly, he stretched out, shifted to spread himself along the side of my body, where our skin was touching. When I was done with that hand, I let it go, trailed it down my chin, and set it on my breast--which had become very human in the interim. I never looked down.

  Jack indulged in cupping. Little tickles, tweaks. Firm hand holds. Brief caresses that promised something to come. Investigating my whole body, every dimple, every bump, lump, and crease.

  Eventually, he worked his hand down to my pubis.

  That made me arch. I wanted nothing more than to feel his hand tighter there. Or his finger-- or more-- inside me again. But he kissed me instead, keeping up the same steady pressure with his hand. Just enough to make me buck for fulfillment.

  Before long, he was half over me, sliding his tongue inside my mouth, and his cock dripped against the flesh of my upper thigh. I couldn’t stand it any more, I reached for his manhood, literally pulled it-- and him-- until he lay atop me, ready to go in.

  Ripping my lips free, I said, “For Gaia’s sake, fuck me. I’ve waited a lifetime for this.”

  Jack grabbed a hold of my chin, made me look him in the eye. And, as you know, that wasn’t something I’d done a lot of before. “Fera--”

  His face seemed so beautiful to me, but definitely, his eyes had me sucked into their depths.

  I love the expressions he gets. So serious in his eyes, but his lips always twitch, always ready to smirk.

  “What?” I spread my legs, pulled up my knees and put my hands on his hips. I figured, if he was gonna take his time about it, I might just have to help him.

  Too sincere, too serious, he said, “You drive me wild.”

  That made me laugh. “Could’ve fooled me.”

  He shook his head though, and said, “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “What?” Yeah, I was having trouble concentrating.

  “The waiting, the wanting--it’s the best part. That’s why I--” Why he didn’t take me back at Pack City. Why he’d run all over hell with me. He’d been enjoying the anticipation.

  My night’s hell. I’d had enough of anticipation for one lifetime, or so I thought.

  “Bet me.” I pulled him up inside of me. One firm grip and yank.

  And, to be honest, I had a moment of such intense pain that my vision blacked out. My whole body went rigid.

  He groaned, “Sorry. Oh, shit.” And despite the fact that I was somewhere in la-la land, my head rolled back, eyes up in my head, there was no stopping him. Long, deep strokes. I felt him all the way up to my throat, from the inside. Well, practically.

  It didn’t take too many strokes like that to bring me around.

  “It’s my first time like this,” he said, as he got near the edge.

  All I could do was ride the ride, go with the flow. Hang on for dear life.

  Claw into his biceps.

  He never noticed. And he didn’t seem to mind afterwards, either. I left marks on him.

  Jack didn’t have to work too hard to reach my spot. I don’t know if it’s the way he’s built, or how hot I get when I’m near him, but I didn’t have any problems finding that orgasm. He rode me right to it.

  I hit it before he did, and that just sent him over the top, I guess. But I was definitely pulling him up into me deeper, had my hands on his ass, helping.

  He came in shivering thrusts. His whole body was into it. I felt his toes, his feet stiffening. And he said into my ear, “God, you’re everything I ever dreamed of.”

  So, okay, that made me laugh.

  “Oh. Oh. Oh.”

  I guess my shaking from the laughter was causing extra convulsions around his cock, almost painful in their tickling strangles.

  “Stop,” he begged.

  And that made me laugh more.

  But that didn’t last long. It just pumped all the jism from his body. His head started to swell, a noticeably filling sensation, even after the fullness of him just being inside, and I panicked, started pushing, screaming for him to get out. I don’t know how he managed to do it, but a second later he was on his knees, a few feet from me, a little panicked himself.

  My legs were still spread-eagled around him. I propped myself up on my elbows to look at him as he asked, “Did I hurt you somehow?”

  When he asked that, I didn’t answer. The phenomenon of a swelling cock is worth watching. I’m sure my eyes were as wide as they could get, and narrowed in on that.

  His gaze followed mine. His dripping cock had gone ahead and swollen up, still pulsing with fluids, semen.

  He seemed a little concerned. Squeezed along the length of his shaft, kind’ve pushing the liquid out the end. Wincing, holding it tight, closing his eyes for a few minutes.

  There, with the light of that full moon on him, hanging on, he looked like a sculpture. A great, wolfish sculpture of a man. I knew I’d found my destiny. Good or bad, this was the soulmate for me, a werewolf who struggled with who he was, what he’d become, and how to express himself.

  At least, when he eventually told the sky, “Help me, I think I need to go again,” I knew that this was going to work out.

  I pounced him and showed him how to fuck crinos. It’s definitely a rabbit deal. I had his hands pinned out, wide, at the sides of his head. I straddled him, lowered myself into position over his shaft, which, by the way, was a serious stretch, one that had me questioning my own sense. I mean, only a minute before, I’d been pushing that mushroomed bastard out of me. Now, I was drawing it in, sliding onto it with slow purpose, telling my new lover, “In a minute, I’m gonna show you what it really is to fuck someone’s brains out.”

  Once on, it took me a minute or two to get my breath, shake the double vision from my eyes. Long enough that Jack teased, “Any time. Go ahead, fuck my brains out.”

  So, I started riding up and down, slow and easy at first. I told him, “I’m working up to it. Give me a second.”

  Inside, I was nothing but nerves, sensitized bits, every single tidbit of me geared toward coming another time. But I realized I couldn’t get that rabbit thing going without his help. I think the position was--just--unnatural to me at that point.

  I definitely wanted an orgasm again, quick. I growled, “Pump, dammit. Fucking--fuck me.”

  He laughed a little at my ferocity, but got his hips moving. And he demanded, “Let go of my hands.”

  I did. A second later, his fingers were on my hips, pushing me onto his shaft in body-stabbing, impaling yanks. It was great. It was fast. It was furious.

  I remember his eyes flashing and him asking, “Ya like that?”

  And me smiling back, saying, “Yeah. Is that all ya got?”

  Chapter Nine

  Here’s the thing...It
didn’t take long to exhaust ourselves, or to experience multiple orgasms. We ended up falling asleep in each other’s arms.

  Which, by anyone’s standards, should be a good deal.

  Except I didn’t sleep long. I totally panicked when I saw dawn slipping over the horizon. Not because of the change in him, but because I was afraid I wouldn’t change. Or I would.

  I was confused. Scared. I crept away from Jack and sat a few feet from him, watching him. As the night receded and the morn broke, his features shifted. The fur disappeared completely. Not that he’d been covered by that much of it.

  Revealed by the dawn’s light was a very handsome man. Dark, curly hair, not too short, not too long. Black lashes that fanned his cheeks in sleep. Beautiful lips. Kissable lips.

  Pale skin.

  Not sickly white. But definitely white.

  I rested my chin on my knee and wondered, when will I turn back to lupus? And would that be painful? Even though I’d done well so far, I was sure that pain lurked in the next part of the shifting.

  Examining my hands, I noted that the hairs were almost invisible and short, that my nails weren’t really claws. They were still long, but not vicious looking, as they’d been in crinos. That had me crawling back toward Jack, to look at the marks on his biceps. Healed wounds, red lines.

  Tipping my head, I placed my hand in the air above them, matched them up--felt a little sad that I’d marked such an otherwise perfect body. Except, I noticed where he’d been bitten. On the back of his neck, like something had jumped him from behind.

  I scooted back against a rock, wrapped my hands around my knees and wondered how he got loose. And who had done that to him?

  One of the losers. The bitches had said that. But which one?

  Not that it mattered. Losers were losers.

  But still, I was curious. Not that I had any real urge to play detective, but I once again crawled close to Jack’s head and examined the bite marks. Scars, now, that included a second bite a few inches below the first. Apparently, Jack had been running, and kept on running. I looked at his legs. Strong legs.

  They made me smile, and remember the way he’d tipped me backward, resting me on his thigh, before he’d kissed me. I ran my hand through my hair, scratched.

  Then realized that I had gone human, full over. My hair curved around my cheeks, which were smooth, rounded, fleshy-feeling. I scrambled to my feet, and turned in circles, looking down at myself. Squiggled my toes in the grass, dug them into the dirt. I didn’t know what to think, couldn’t stop touching myself.

  First, I squeezed my breasts, rubbed the nubs. I enjoyed that immensely, couldn’t wait to get Jack to do it, too. I had to pause for a minute though, because something in my brain was telling me that he had already, and that my recall wasn’t completely up to par.

  No matter. This was the first time, in the light of day, that I could examine myself in human form. I delighted in running my hands up my arms. It was so different from when I was in crinos. No hair. My muscles didn’t bulge now. I was firm, but not--huge. Not that I have a problem with that. I think bigger is better, in men and women.

  It didn’t take long for me to reach down between my legs, or to rub the soreness away with some light stroking. We’d had some hard sex, and it being my first time, had made me a little raw.

  I went to the water and stepped in, slowly, quietly, so as not to wake Jack up. I washed. His dried semen was all over me, down my legs, over my belly. He had definitely ‘taken possession.’ I liked the aching feel between my legs. I liked knowing that Jack had wanted me repeatedly.

  The creek was deep, the water cool and soothing, very refreshing. And the early sun was warming. I remember turning my face up toward it, closing my eyes, and thanking Gaia for the gift of a full shift. I lifted my hands, full of water, toward the sky, and let it fall in trickling waterfalls down my arms.

  “So, this is what I have to wake up to now.”

  Jack’s words had me blinking, twirling and covering my breasts as I spun around to look at him. I sputtered. “How--how long have you been awake?”

  “Move your hands.”

  I did, but I ducked into the water first.

  Jack shook his head, planted a grin on his lips, and told me, “Stand up, let me see you.”

  But I bit my lower lip. I hadn’t yet gotten completely comfortable with my new self, and I didn’t know how long it would last. I sure didn’t know how it stacked up in a human’s world, or a man’s eyes.

  The sudden urge to explain that to him had me responding, “How much do you know about--garou?”

  He frowned. “Garou?”

  “You know, werewolves.”

  “Oh.” He shrugged, looked away, bit the inside of his cheek. “Not as much as I need to know, that’s for damn sure.”

  “There are some--simple things--that you need to know.”

  He glanced back at me. “Like what? That the full moon turns them into monsters? Believe me, I got that part figured out.”

  I flinched a little. What we’d shared, most of our night--we’d shared...in crinos. I felt a little confused on that. I mean, I remember that our embraces started while we were both in that form, but straddling him, I’d felt very--awkward. Very human formed. I asked, “Did you hate it?”

  He considered that for several minutes, before he finally said, “No. Not exactly.”

  “But you like being human better?”

  “Don’t you?” he snapped at me. But there was no growl, or flash in his eyes.

  Honestly, I said, “I--I don’t know.”

  At this point, I realized that the unnaturals didn’t shift all the way to lupus. At least, this one hadn’t. Though his crinos had the best features of the wolf incorporated with the best of the human.

  “How can you not know?”

  He didn’t get it.

  “What do you think, Jack? That we’re all bitten, like you were?”

  Flinching, he got up off the ground, kept himself busy for a minute--brushing grass and dirt from his body. I watched him, thinking, Oh. My. Gaia. He is beautiful in every form. Well, the two forms I’d seen him in, and what was between them.

  Even at that moment, when his male genitalia hung limply, it appeared worthy of appreciation. His human muscles, though much smaller than his crinos form, showed definition, dents worth investigating.

  He asked, “By that, I take it that the entire pack wasn’t.” He really was too smart for his own good. Too clever. Getting information out of me.

  “No.” I didn’t want to tell him the rest, but I said, “Some were. But more of the garou at Pack City are breeders, born werewolf.”

  “Is that so?” He glanced over at me. “In what? Crinos?”

  I winced. “Yeah, a few.” I knew one thing; birthing a crinos infant was as painful as it gets. I don’t know why, but it had something to do with claws, over-sizing of the baby, that sort of thing. “More in human or lupus.”

  “How many are born like you?” His tone sharpened, and his gaze narrowed, and I felt like it was almost a criticism.

  Swallowing hard, I tried to think. How many?