Stocking Stuffer: The Christmas Bunny
Camille Anthony
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Copyright ©2006 Camille Anthony
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ISBN (10) 1-59596-405-3
ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-405-2
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Wolf
The dead of winter -- the humans’ Christmas Eve, in fact -- cold as a sleeping bear’s behind, and there I was lost in a snowstorm, hungry enough to eat vegetables. I came to myself miles from anywhere stumbling through the forest, head bleeding where I’d cut it after shattering the window of my burning car. My transportation was fried -- literally.
I’d smelled rabbit and instead of watching the road, I’d been salivating, anticipating snagging a quick hot snack. That luscious aroma -- fear-spiked adrenaline -- had sparked my appetite, short-circuiting my attention. I never saw the tree.
So my almost brand new car was back who-knows-where, twisted around the boll of a tree. It must have lit the night sky with a blaze of gasoline and fine imported leather.
Anyway, the night was far gone. The moon, full and bright, rode low on the western horizon. Soft white beams bathed the area, glazing the snow-covered landscape with their pearlescent glow. The beauty made me shiver. The peace, the calm, was total, so perfect -- akin to the perfection of coming in a woman I care about. Are you lucky enough to know what I mean?
There’s this one sublime moment we men strive for, the culmination of all our heaving and thrusting, sweating and grunting, when we just let go. We release not only our sperm, but all our inhibitions when we collapse onto a soft pillow of welcoming curves. There’s no greater act of trust. It’s then, with our dwindling cock still buried in our woman’s tight intimate grip, that we surrender… and gain a peace unsurpassed.
Mother Moon, I missed that; missed having a warm welcoming woman snuggle her full-fleshed body against mine. I missed having her hot silky pussy gloving my cock, her thighs hugging my balls… which were freezing, by the way.
I know. Why didn’t I just turn into a wolf and at least be warm? I tried. Several times. All I got was a gut-churning bellyache from straining to twist my innards into a different shape.
I never shift well when I’m hungry. Those vegetables I mentioned earlier? I’m a carnivore. I love meat. Hot, dripping and still on the hoof when I can get it. But right then, I’d take raw cabbage and cry grateful tears before wolfing it down. Goddess, just saying that is enough to make a fellow howl.
So, there I was, trudging through knee-high piles of powdery snowdrifts, cursing and rubbing my arms in a futile attempt at keeping the blood flowing. It was torture. My feet were blocks of ice, the snow around my legs having melted into numbing slush and found its way inside my socks, turning my toes blue.
More than my feet were in danger of freezing. My clothes were minimal -- a thin black cashmere turtleneck over black Dockers. I’d been traveling in a heated BMW, on my way to a posh, private reserve attended by others of my kind, and had dressed appropriately. I had to find shelter or a way to get warm very soon before I turned into a wolf-sicle.
In shifted form, I could easily scent my destination, run down some dinner on the way and still be in time for the opening ceremonies. The problem was, out of my four-footed form, my eyes are my weakest sense. I can’t see worth a damn. Direction challenged. Lassie might find her way home from two hundred miles away, but I get lost using MapQuest. Turning would solve most of my problems, but for now it seemed, I was stuck in this clumsy two-legged shape. Hells bells, I missed my fur.
Wait a minute…
There it was again -- a heavenly smell wafting past my quivering nose, reminding me what had caused my problems earlier. Live food! My stomach cramped with hunger, and I rubbed my belly -- as if that’d stop the ache.
I lifted my face, nose quivering, trying to pinpoint the mouth-watering aroma. It had been south of me earlier…
The wind sent a flurry of snowflakes in my upturned face but I ignored the discomfort to drink in the hot, sweet smell of fear-laden blood. Off to the left, back in the trees. Yes! There was my prey!
With the realization food was near, I started after the rabbit, loping through the snow. My clothes seemed to fall away, but in reality, I shredded top and pants with budding claws. Shoes dropped behind and soggy socks were shaken off as my body completed its change.
Naturally, smoothly… at last… I took on fur and teeth, fangs and tail. The forest grew still as my joyful howls rang clear in the night air. Wolf once more, I trotted after the fleeing scent.
Oh, the joy of running as wolf, of being the lord of nature, a supreme predator ruling the night! Now, more than ever, I reveled in my change, thankful to be myself again, to be on the hunt… to be warm!
In a lighthearted moment, I dropped and rolled in a pristine snow bank, giving in to the puppyish impulse to play. My earliest memories are of our sire taking me and my sibs out in the first snowfall and watching over us as we frolicked. The best times were when he would join in, rough-housing and growling, then showing throat to us in mock surrender.
One day, I’ll do that with my pups. But right now, the smell of fleeing rabbit reminded me of hunger. Shaking off the snow that no longer chilled me, I resumed my hunt.
Over there, up ahead!
My nose twitched as the juicy scent flooded my olfactory glands. My stomach growled. I’d lost that rabbit tidbit earlier, but providence had sent it back across my path. It wouldn’t escape this time.
I could almost taste my prey, knew I was gaining on it, when instinct kicked in again, making me slow against my will. My nose crinkled at the disturbing scent of three more creatures in the forest. Humans, rank with the stink of exertion-induced sweat and stale body odor, heavily tainted with the yeasty aroma of hops. Whew, they hadn’t been drinking much, huh? And they seemed focused on my dinner!
Oh, hell no!
My first reaction was fury. I defer only to my Alpha and his mate. Where feeding is concerned, I eat after them. All other times, I’m first at the kill. If these human interlopers thought they could challenge me, get between me and my already delayed meal, they were in for a rude awakening.
I suppressed my inclination to attack, as duty takes precedence over instinct. As Pack Enforcer, it is my job to evaluate threats to the pack and deal with them accordingly. Cautiously I followed the loud, lumbering humans. Unlike the stupid poachers, I knew sound traveled easily across snow.
What are men doing in our forests, on our pack lands? This close to the solstice celebration, they were lucky they hadn’t come upon some of my arriving people. We wolves don’t tolerate trespassers.
We weren’t kidding when we posted the sign No trespassing! Offenders will be shot. Survivors will be eaten!
Needing answers, I trotted through the bright night, determined to catch up to the fleeing group. A short time later, a flash of white in the distance had hunger howling in me. I poured on a burst of speed.
The rabbit’s tail, fluffy, round and white, taunted me, bobbing across the snow in erratic patterns, zigzagging frantically in front of its pursuers. But there was something strange about that tail. It rode too high. Either that rabbit was making some phenomenally high jumps or it was more than five feet tall!
Impossible!
Come to think of it, there was something strange about the rabbit’s odor, too. Now that I’d gotten closer, it really didn’t smell like rabbit at all. Oh, the aroma of fur, the blood and skin scent was there, but the underlying fear smell -- strong and sweet -- belonged to a human… a female human.
My hackles rose. The men I tracked were chasing a young female through the frozen woods in the middle of the night. A frightened woman they’d dressed in bloody rabbit furs and set loose as prey. She was bleeding, panting loudly and, judging by the rapid beating of her heart, probably hyperventilating. The poor thing seemed very close to exhaustion. It wasn’t hard for me to imagine what they had planned for her… not with the heavy cloud of lust the three males were giving off.
Her fear blazed hot, an electric current running across the field, lighting it up like a midnight sun; a beacon to all who hunted by scent. The depravity of the situation made me ill. I might be a wolf, but these males were the true animals. No werewolf would ever treat one of our females in such a manner.
We remain thinking souls in our fur. Our morals are high, our laws strict. One doesn’t hunt the helpless except to cull the herd and satisfy body hunger. One doesn’t harm the young-bearing of one’s kind. This fleeing, frightened girl wasn’t pack, wasn’t wolf, but she was in need. In two-legged form, I’d often fucked her kind and found a measure of joy. And hell, by now it was Christmas and a good deed done this night -- even for a human -- should earn me kudos from our Big Kahuna, the Moon Goddess.
I veered off, heading across the snow, intending to scout the lay of the land before cutting off the three men in pursuit of the winded girl. My lips curled back, revealing my fangs in an anticipatory snarl. I’d show them what it feels like to be hunted…
Prey
Crap! Was that a wolf howling? That’s all I needed, on top of those three filthy hillbillies chasing me! Andersonville, North Carolina, was the arm-pit of beyond, totally devoid of civilized life as far as I could tell. My life had gone to hell since waking up in the trunk of Patrick’s old Plymouth.
Some sorry excuse for a woman I am, unable to tell when a man was playing me. I’d been so grateful for a show of interest, even from a white man, that I’d welcomed Patrick’s tentative advances.
I’d questioned his motives at first. Who wouldn’t? It’s not like men were beating my door down for a date. I was the perfect target. Alone in the world, with no relatives, no one to care if I fell off the face of the earth. Wasn’t that what he’d said when he was tying me into this stupid bunny suit?
“Ouida, you’re perfect for us ’cause no one will miss you, but I really do like you. You got plenty of meat on your bones. My brothers and I share everything, and we all like big women. Thing is, we just need a little something extra to get really excited. We need the hunt, the thrill of chasing prey.”
“You won’t get away with this, Patrick. Someone will miss me. They’ll remember you were hanging around me on the job.”
“I mailed them a letter saying you quit to get married. To me. I said we’d be sending invitations later.” He paused to test the fit of the skimpy skins. I remember how my stomach muscles had tightened with fear. When they finished with me, I’d be dead. Fear blossomed out of control when he slid his hand down my leg, probing with his fingers between my thighs.
“I didn’t really lie, either. We’ll all three act the husband with you, so in a sense, you will be our bride. Bo and Ro don’t even mind you’re black. We ain’t never been prejudiced. If you’re a good girl and don’t make us hurt you, you’ll probably last a long time. I hope so. I don’t like going into town. The last girl, Jenna, got Ro real mad ’cause she refused to suck his cock. Course, she had to be punished, but he got carried away…”
“Oh, my God!”
“Don’t you worry none, Ouida. I won’t let that happen to you. Just do as you’re told, make us happy and everything will be all right.”
If making them happy involved running till my lungs burst, dressed up in some poorly-sewn nasty smelly rabbit skin outfit, they had it. If it meant docilely taking their filthy cocks in my mouth, they were gonna be disappointed.
I don’t think the two older brothers knew what water was. They certainly didn’t drink it, and they sure as hell hadn’t bathed in it any time recently. They smelled like funky gym clothes dipped in teenage sweat and left in a dark, dank place to molder for fifteen years. Just the thought of sucking them off made me gag.
I couldn’t help a quick glance over my shoulder. They’re gaining on me!
I tripped, regained my footing, cursing my stupidity with each hurried step. “Idiot, why did you look back? Are you happy now? Heart thumping in your chest, fear gnawing at your courage, choking your breath…”
I stopped verbalizing to pray. Oh God, help me, help-me-help-me-help-me get away from these insane monsters. I’m so tired… Can’t stop… they’re gonna rape me when they catch me. Not fair not fair not fair!
My breath wheezed loudly in the still air. It felt like I’d been running for hours. Had I evaded them for thirty minutes? If I did, they’d promised to let me choose which one raped me. Otherwise, they’d take turns till their sap ran dry… Bo’s words, not mine. Considering what they looked and smelled like, I didn’t find it a bit surprising their sap hadn’t been tapped in a looooong while…
The moon, a round fat ball of brightness, lit the snow-covered landscape for miles. How the hell was I supposed to hide in all this openness? And I had to hide… I couldn’t outrun my three pursuers much longer. I was too out of shape.
My lungs were burning, straining to grasp each breath as I ran flat out, pushing my way through scratchy bushes, stumbling over rocks and jutting roots. I wanted to close my eyes, block out the pitiful picture I made, but I couldn’t risk running into something and knocking my stupid ass out.
Terror made me push on. I was prepared to run until my heart exploded, die of a heart attack if it would rob the three Horny Goats Gruff of their Christmas present.
That Broderick was a damned mountain -- so fucking big he scared the shit out of me. When he’d showed me his dick, I’d fallen over in a dead faint. Good Lord, there had to be a cutoff point when bigger ceased to be better. So help me, if that man -- and I use the term lightly -- ever managed to stuff that thing up me, my throat would hurt.
Damn them all, anyway. Damned red-necked hillbillies too sorry to try attracting a woman in the usual way. They had it all worked out. Send handsome Patrick to the city to find a lonely woman willing to believe any line. He’d been cute in an old-fashioned sort of way… all politeness and shy smiles. Coaxing him into conversation, I’d forgotten my own usual shyness.
I can’t believe I fell for that sappy shit. Tears wet my cheeks, freezing before they hit my chin. Wiping them away was futile -- more would just take their place. I’d been so gullible. It hadn’t taken him long to lure me into trusting him.
If there was a God up there, watching this, She better get me some help fast, ’cause this situation was waaaay bogus!
Wolf
The three men smelled like variations on a theme, sharing the same underlying scent. It marked them den-mates, siblings. They could’ve played the three bears; one big and burly, the middle one wiry and slim. The youngest seemed a cub still, unfinished in stature.
I’d heard some of the reclusive, less civilized m
ountain families shared spouses, females being a rarity in these parts, but this particular situation had never come up in any pack discussion. What the fuck did they mean to do with the woman after they caught her? I mean, besides the obvious. Did they mean to keep running her again and again? Frightening and fucking her over and over until her heart and courage eventually wore out?
Shit.
That was just wrong on so many levels. As primitive as my thinking was as wolf, my ruff bristled over this situation. If she were indeed the rabbit I’d smelled earlier, she’d eluded her hunters a long time. She’d persevered in adversity, refusing to give up.
A woman deserved to be savored like fine wine, tasted slowly, sipped delicately, not guzzled and slopped over as if she were a coarse beer. I had half a mind to show her just how I’d treat a courageous bitch like herself…
Whoa, there, Rin Tin Tin… where the spit did that come from?
Damn it all, I was NOT interested in humans, no way no how. Still… the night ahead loomed cold and lonely. By the time I finished with these yahoos, I’d have missed the party, and the chance to link up with an unmated bitch for some holiday tail-sniffing. Maybe this woman would grant me a Christmas fuck in gratitude for her rescue.
Then again, probably not. Hey, a wolf could hope…
Backtracking, I found their cars about a mile down the road. Why had they brought two? Ah! A second sniff told me one was the woman’s. They probably planned to ditch it when they ditched her body.
Hell, I didn’t need that visual. It was awful enough I had to let them catch her. I felt badly about the situation, but I didn’t have a choice. There are rules, even for an enforcer. I had to have evidence of the humans’ crimes before exacting punishment.
I shredded their tires, chuffing in amusement. I planned to leave one man injured, but alive. Unless the survivor drove out of here on rims, he wouldn’t be going anywhere until morning.
Stocking Stuffer: The Christmas Bunny Page 1