Diary of a Wolf: A Gay Shifter Romance

by Hunter, Troy

  The canine wags his tail, a sign he’s warming up to the idea.

  No pun intended.

  My new friend slowly hunches himself over the tub, bravely sticking his left paw into the water to test it. A frantic yelp escapes him as he retracts his paw. He turns to look at me with a mortified expression on his face. His eyes are as wide as moons and his ears are folded down. It’s almost like he was trying to telepathically send curses my way, amongst other threats and insults.

  “Vile demon,” he probably calls me. “Why would you draw a bath this hot? We’re not caught in a blizzard, you insipid bastard.” I chortle at the mental image. What an adorable creature to have wandered into my home.

  “Too hot, little one?”

  The wolf gives me an agitated bark, followed by a small growl.

  “My apologies. I’ll remember next time to not draw a bath comprised solely of melted dry ice.”

  The words “dry ice” nearly make his eyes pop out of their sockets.

  “That’s a joke, my friend.”

  The young lycan barks two more times, each sounding rightfully annoyed with me. By this point, I can’t tell if I should feel bad for laughing at this poor wolf’s misfortune. Imagine how bad a night one must be having to be caught in a horrible thunderstorm, only to be invited indoors by an insufferable asshole who bullies them with ear scratches and hot baths. The humanity. When will someone strike me down for my devilish ways?

  At least the canine seems to understand that I mean it all in jest. He isn’t withdrawing at my jabs nor is he lashing out at me. I must admit, I’m honored to finally meet someone who appreciates my brand of humor. Lord knows my family never did.

  “Come now. After soaking in the fire for a minute, you’ll soon feel like you’re enveloped within a cozy blanket. That’s how it does me and I typically bathe when I have much less fur than you.”

  Despite the gruff bark he chooses to respond with, the wolf turns around and slowly eases himself into the bathtub. He whines as his body submerges itself within the water, high temperatures overwhelming his small body. I admire him for soldiering through the scorching heat, though I admittedly feel like a louse for subjecting him to it.

  It’s okay, Kenneth.

  This is only his first bath.

  He’ll handle the others with grace, I’m sure of it.

  I clear my throat and kneel on the washroom floor. My right hand gently drags itself over his back. “Shh. It’s okay, boy. You’ll be clean in no time.” I scratch the back of the pitiful canine’s ears as he whimpers in the hot water. My eyes fixate on his while I lightly splash water over his body.

  I know this is a new experience for him. With all new experiences, there’s bound to be apprehension afoot. And considering the typically intimate nature of bathing oneself, I can completely understand the wolf’s nervousness. I’m a stranger. I’m still in the process of remedying the foolish mistake I made when we first met.

  I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge him. Just because a lycan finds their way into one’s home doesn’t necessarily mean they’re trying to challenge anyone’s authority. Granted, that’s usually what such an action entails when coming from a male shifter. But, as my new friend has proven, that intention is not always guaranteed. This wolf is unlike most I’ve encountered. While they seem to favor power and status, this one simply wants to be safe from harm.

  I’m such a fool. My paranoia gets the better of me far too often. I try to remember that not everyone is out to fight me. Obviously, it’s a little too easy for me to forget. Maybe it’s just the eccentric Adelbrecht in me.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never bathed a wolf before.”

  The canine blinks slowly as the frequency of his whimpers cease a bit.

  “Yes, Sir. You’re the first. Looks like we’re learning this together.” I run my fingers through his fur coat, digging for any clumps of mud that might be there. “You see, I grew up in a household full of lycans. Everyone with the Adelbrecht name seems to possess a connection to the Great Wolf upon birth. However, despite every household member being a shifter, we’ve never had to have help bathing.”

  I dip my hand into the bath water and bring it back up to wet the wolf’s head. “I know that must sound strange to you, given your predicament. But most shifters can transform at will. In fact, we’re required to do it every once in a while, so our connection to the mighty father remains strong.” I look away for a moment to grab a bar of soap and moisten it in the water. “My father’s a shifter. His father’s a shifter, too. And his father was a shifter, as well. Father was lucky to have met Mother when he did. There aren’t many female lycans around nowadays, at least not in England.”

  I look back at the wolf, trying to gauge whether I’m boring him with my family history. To my surprise, he’s staring at me rather attentively. And I hadn’t noticed before on account of my chatter, but his whimpering has completed stopped. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he finds my rambling to be soothing, like a melodic hymn being played on a siren’s harp.

  I admit that’s pushing it a wee bit, but I digress.

  I’m honored he finds such fascination in what I have to say.

  “There’s, uh, a lot of females in Scotland, however. I’ve been there a time or two on business.” I lather his fur with the soap, chuckling weakly at the memories. “They’re…a fun bunch to frolic with, I suppose. But I had nothing in common with any of them.” I pull away from scrubbing the wolf and give him a half-hearted shrug. “So be it, then. Human women are just as complicated.”

  I quell the temptation to point out the complicated nature of human men, as well.

  “Maybe I’m just not as good with people as I thought. I was quite the charmer a few years back. During house parties, I used to entertain the overly posh nobles with tales of my experiences in other countries. They called me cultured, said I was a man of the world.” I smirk at the wolf. “I’m no such man. I travelled because it was my job, not because I was looking for praise.”

  I sigh and shift my eyes at my foam-covered hands. “Perhaps I was only popular because of my achievements. Any small-minded neanderthal could’ve been the life of the party. Any arrogant fool could’ve regaled others with grandiose tales.” I look back at the brown wolf and shake my head. “I wasn’t anyone special. Not really.”

  The canine stares at me for a moment, eyes shifting downward. It appears I’ve saddened him with my ranting. That was certainly not the intention of my words. With everything that’s happened over the last couple of days, I suppose I just need someone to listen to me. Nobody back home offered me a shoulder to lean on and my new servants aren’t exactly the type I’d feel comfortable baring my soul to.

  “Forgive me, my friend,” I request as I scratch underneath his chin. “It was rude of me to pile all of that on top of you. My burdens are my own and I shouldn’t try to hand them to others.”

  The wolf barks once and leans over to lick my left cheek. I chuckle at the sensation.

  I suppose I’m forgiven, then.

  “Thank you, boy. I promise next time I shift, I’ll keep my mouth shut so you can regale me with tales of your own.”

  He nuzzles his soaked face into my collarbone, dampening my shirt.

  I’m not sure he intended to, but somehow this contact tickles the flesh on my neck. “Q-Quit that. You’re covered in soap,” I rationalize through newfound giggles.

  The wolf doesn’t pull away. Instead, he proceeds to repeatedly nuzzle against me. This must be his revenge for my jests earlier.

  “Stop!”

  The canine finally pulls away, panting happily.

  What a satisfied grin he’s sporting.

  How pleased he appears to be with himself.

  Little bugger.

  “You think that’s clever, do you? Giving me the piss like that? Well then. We’ll one day see how you like being overpowered, Mister…” My eyes widen as I make a startling realization. I haven’t asked the wol
f for his name, yet. Not only that, but I haven’t even properly introduced myself. Get it together, Kenneth. What are you thinking?

  “I, uh, seem to have…” I clear my throat and give the canine a rather sheepish grin. “I’m an absolute bastard. All this time I’ve been chatting your ear off and I haven’t even the courtesy to introduce myself.” I put the soap down and begin rinsing the wolf’s fur. “I’m Kenneth Adelbrecht. I’m the great-nephew of the man who used to live here.”

  At these words, the brown wolf whines rather loudly.

  “No need to be sorry,” I assure him. “I think he’s been deceased for quite some time now. The government just wants someone of his bloodline to occupy the estate before it topples over. Thankfully, my inheritance letter arrived just in time.” I cup some bath water in my hands and pour it over the wolf’s scalp. “Bunch of sorry bastards is all that’s left in London, I’m afraid. Everyone is too shallow. Nobody seems to be genuinely passionate about anything other than money and status. As prideful as I am with my work in the scientific community, I’m guilty of letting others exploit my findings to further enhance their own reputation amongst their rich friends. My last employer…mighty father preserve me.”

  I groan at the very mention of that awful man.

  I sincerely hope another jilted lover has punched Bosie in the face since our last interaction.

  “You’re much better company than him thus far. Much cleaner, too. Especially now,” I acknowledge with a head rub and wink. “Don’t you worry, though. If you think I’m going to let you get away with not speaking during my next transformation, you’ve got another think coming. I don’t plan to go our entire friendship simply calling you Wolf or Dog. You’ve a name that predates your abilities.”

  The wolf barks once, letting his tongue hang out of his mouth afterward.

  “And so help me I’m going to teach you how to shift on your own accord. There’s no reason you should be stuck in that body for such prolonged periods of time.”

  He barks again, this time spinning around once in the bathtub.

  I smile widely. I have a feeling my promises have provided him with joy that he’s long since been neglected of. No longer does he have to brave storms outdoors. No longer does he have to face social rejection from stray cats or birds.

  He has someone to keep him company now.

  I now have someone to listen to me.

  7

  A Missing Wolf’s Woes

  Eustace

  September 20, 1823

  I’ve done it, my friends.

  I’ve finally done it!

  I don’t know how I did it, but I’ve regained my human form.

  I’m a human again.

  Praise the Lord!

  My transformation was excruciating. My bones felt like they were about to snap. After being a wolf for so long, my body needed to get used to being human again. How many people can say their biggest struggle in life is to simply exist as a person among people? It’s one thing to avoid socialization, but another thing entirely to completely forget how to be human.

  Once my transformation was complete, it took me a good three minutes to process what had just happened. When I saw my reflection in a river, I had to cover my mouth, so I didn’t accidently alert anyone with my cheers. After all, the very last thing I need is to lose my humanity as soon as I get it back. I’m overjoyed, ecstatic.

  For what seemed to be an eternity, I’ve been crippled in my ability to see things as they are. But here I am now, enjoying the contrast between the beige pages of my diary and the red quill I’m writing with. The green and purple chemicals bubbling over at Elias’ stand bless my vision like an angel’s gentle embrace. I never thought I’d be so happy to see colors, but here I am.

  But for how long?

  Truthfully, I don’t know how long this transformation will last. I’m not sure if this is permanent or if I’m going to change back into my wolf form in a couple of hours. Either way, I’m taking advantage of this freedom. Luckily for me, Elias seems to keep my belongings stowed away in his laboratory. He slumbers for the time being, so this is my best chance to pen my experiences as a wolf in my diary.

  One month has passed since that awful night in Elias Adelbrecht’s laboratory. It’s been one month since he robbed me of my humanity. It’s hard to think that so much time has already passed since that horrible experiment was conducted. I suppose one perk to this new form of mine is that I no longer have any concept of time. Granted, this proves to be both a blessing and a curse, depending on the situation.

  For instance, hours tend to fly like a flock of seagulls. But days themselves? I can’t tell the difference between night and day, not anymore. The sky looks the same to me, regardless of the time of day. Eyes that were once able to see many shades of colors now only see three: black, white, and grey.

  As awful a predicament as that may sound, it’s honestly not so bad.

  In fact, I find it to be rather liberating.

  I’ll explain this bit of logic later.

  However inconsistent time seems nowadays, I still manage to hold on to the memories of my previous life. This comes as quite the disappointment to me. I had hoped that, perhaps, taking the form of a wolf would exile some of my human memories. I don’t want to lose all my memories, no. But I don’t think I’d be too upset if I forgot some of the more heartbreaking ones.

  My father’s disappointment in me.

  My failed dreams of being a musician.

  Anything and everything involving Ambrose Pemberton.

  But maybe that’s just how things are supposed to be. Maybe I’m meant to be stuck with these terrible memories. I suppose that, at the very least, they can serve as reminders. Reminders of a dark past where I’d made too many mistakes to count, a reminder to never make those mistakes ever again.

  I was surprised when I walked outside that dungeon with my life still intact. With all his insane talk of wolves and shifters, I feared the ritual he had performed would cause me serious harm. The unholy combination of the chemicals burning holes through my throat and the Satanic chanting ringing in my ears made me truthfully think he was using me for some kind of human sacrifice. How could I not suspect that? Elias had ranted about the sins of mankind and how his fellow shifters had forsaken him. He spoke of losing his shifting powers and blaming mankind for it. I was a man, much like the ones he ranted about. He wanted to use me for a diabolical experiment for God’s sake! And I still haven’t forgotten how the lunatic touched my body like I was a doll used for black magic rituals. I believe that’s the very purpose I served on that fateful morning of August 21, 1823.

  Never would I have predicted that I’d one day take part in a dark ritual, of which the end result would involve me exchanging my human body for that of a wolf. This sort of thing was unheard of. Absolutely mental. Back when I was a boy, wolfmen were considered children’s tales. Myths our parents used to scare us into completing our chores. To think that those tales were true all this time…what other stories have I foolishly disregarded?

  Once I realized Elias’ ritual had succeeded in turning me into a wolf, I howled loudly in misery. “What have you done to me, you bastard? Where’s my body? Explain yourself!”

  Of course, Elias couldn’t hear me. I couldn’t tell if it was because of my altered voice, or because of how loud he was laughing. “It worked! My ritual has worked. Ha ha! Finally, after all these years, yes!”

  Considering how manic the old codger was acting, I assumed this was the intended result. I wanted to tell him to change me back. I tried to tell him to change me back. I even attempted to tell the old bastard to rot in hell, where he belonged.

  But Elias never heard me.

  All he did was continue to laugh.

  Laugh at his achievements.

  Laugh at my misfortune.

  “Fear not, hound. We shall converse once the time is right. For now, I have much more work to do and I simply do not have time to deal with mangy half-breeds.” Elias
then clapped his hands, summoning three servants. “Take Mister Eustace away.”

  The three of them nodded simultaneously and grabbed hold of my now smaller body.

  At first, his staff frightened me. They all looked like puppets that had been brought to life through the use of some potentially sinful, devilish magic. Life appeared to be missing from their faces. Their eyes seemed blank, even through my monochromatic vision. They all spoke like death as well. Each word that fell from their lips sounded like that final cold breath that escapes your lips before you expire. However, they seemed nice enough. They never hurt me, nor did they ever shout at me. Despite their lifeless presence, they were still better company than Elias Adelbrecht.

  “Try not to move too much, Eustace.” Advised the woman, who looked to be as old as her master. “The pain only feels worse when you try to move.”

  I didn’t exactly understand what she meant by that statement. Then again, I suppose I wasn’t in a position to really understand anything. I was a bloody wolf, after all.

  On my first night in my new body, I was forced to sleep outside the estate while tied to a tree. Making matters worse was the fact that, like the night I fled London as well as the night I arrived at Stagwood Grove, there was a chaotic storm brewing. I whined and begged the staff to release me or at least let me sleep indoors. But, like Elias, they didn’t understand me.

  “Apologies, Eustace. Master’s orders. We’ll be bringing you food periodically throughout the night.” The lifeless family retreated indoors, leaving me all alone with the rain, stuck in a wolf’s body.

  A flurry of emotions overwhelmed me.

  Fear.

  Depression.

  Hopelessness.

  Fury.

  Pain.

  What was I going to do now?

  * * *