Beginning

It all started with jogging, so that’s where I’ll start. I jog, three times a week, after work on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Most people go in the morning but with my hour commute and early start time... well, jogging at 4am is not that fun. Anyway, the park doesn’t open until 6am.

So as I said, it started with jogging. I was on the last curve around the arboretum lake before turning off for home. It’s quiet stretch of tree-blinded blacktop, a rarely used bike lane the city put in four years ago. Still, it was clean and clear of debris and a pleasure to go through. Trees, wind, the scent of the lake—you could almost forget you were in the city.

I passed him jogging the other way. He seemed to pay me no mind but when I glanced back as I went about the curve: he had stopped to stare. Then the trees occluded him and when I backtracked, he was gone. I brushed off the idea off as my mind playing tricks: he had stopped to tie a shoe or watch a bird over my head, that’s all.

At home my routine was uninterrupted; shower, a light vegetarian dinner, an hour of my favorite video game, then bed. The next morning it was off to work, a Tuesday. The same cheese and vegetable sandwich and V8 at Subway, the same night at the karaoke bar with co-workers, then a salad in my car on the way home. Just like every week for the past 7 years since I left college…

...until I saw him again Wednesday evening on the final stretch around the lake deep in the trees. This time I stopped and pretended not to watch him pass. He winked, no doubt in my mind, he winked at me as I passed. I blatantly watched his back as he disappeared about the curve.

Friday night, I stopped and watched him again. He stopped. Our eyes met then parted again as his striking silver blue visage raked me from head to toe. I felt suddenly naked before him, like a puny animal caught in the clear. My heart thudded harder than from any leisurely run I’d just taken today. He grinned at me and I was surprised to find his eyes upon mine again.

“Evenin’. Beautiful out, ain’t it?” he said with a native lilt. I took in his long black hair, tanned skin, and sharp looking teeth. They didn’t match with his stark blue eyes.

“Why, yea...Nice and clear after last night’s rain.” Always safe to talk about the weather, so that’s what I did. At least, until I noticed his shorts, gunmetal gray with red race lines. No question needed; he was well endowed, nor did he show any shame. He didn’t seem to care that his shorts were ready to split out over the largest erection I had ever seen. ‘He should be in the book of world records,’ I thought.

I didn’t consider myself gay since I only ever looked, but that was what I was very pointedly doing now. He took a few steps closer, close enough that I could have reached out to touch him. “Ah...my name’s Simon, “ I told him with an involuntary shuffle and shift of hips to hide my own swelling arousal, my nose filled with the scent of him: sweat, pine, and something familiar and musty.

“Derek,” he told me and for a moment I didn’t know what he meant. I was lost in memories the scent brought to me of being a child and—playing with my dog apparently. He spoke again, “I know somewhere private we could go-n-talk.”

“Oh, sure…” I replied with complete distraction.

He lead me into the forest away from the lake, He seemed to move through the underbrush like a fish through water and I clumped through as I struggled to follow. For all I knew he could lead me to my death right now, but somehow I trusted him. We stopped at a pond, completely hidden from the path, and he stopped at a dry mound of rushes and packed dirt. It looked well worn.

I glanced up into his face as he turned toward me. He had no interest in talk either I recognized and again felt helpless and naked before him. Having taken almost five minutes to get to the pond I would have reasoned for diminished arousal, I would have been wrong. A rabbit into the jaws of a lion, l stepped forward. His large hand found my cheek and as I looked up I realized just how tall he was. I was no slouch standing at 6’1”, but he was a head taller at least. His hypnotic eyes flashed silver as just a hint of a cold smile played across his lips.

I touched him at last, not the relatively intimate but safe touch as he had to my cheek. I ... I boldly laid my palm over his straining shorts and felt the sodden patch over the head. He only grunted and moved his hand slowly up from my cheek up into my short hair, and then gripped it fiercely. My scalp was on fire but my stomach fluttered and my knees felt weak. I felt them give way and I let myself fall until his stomach was against my brow.

I jerked his shorts down, he wore no underwear and before my eyes his phallus was freed. I gazed down at it, my nostrils flared, my mouth watered. A distant part of myself screamed at me ‘What if he has AIDS? What if he has herpes? What am I doing? This isn’t me!’ And then he was between my lips and I was committed to doing something sanity said I never would.

He was an endless font of musky fluid, I swallowed repeatedly yet still his precum dripped off my chin. I was inept, inexperienced, but he never let go of my hair. He guided me yet never said a word or made a sound. I drank from him, caressed him, buried myself in him, choked upon him and felt all the while, I was drowning in him.

And then I was. He gave no warning, one moment I had been trying to fit his vast head snugly into the back of my throat between my tonsils… then in the next instant his blast of semen filled my throat, lungs, stomach, sinuses and mouth. The second torrent overflowed from my nose and lips. Then I coughed and his penis fell free to empty down over my head and shirt.

I felt humiliated, no porn had ever been like that, so much cum...I wanted to weep and hide, but when I looked up again he was gone. My humiliation became anger, not even a thanks or a pat on the head, he just left me in the mud drenched in his release. My own carnal needs dismissed without even a backward glance.

By then it was well past dark, even so I had to avoid one neighbor on my way home too disgraced to be seen in that disheveled state. I showered. I washed my mouth out over and over. I coughed. I blew my nose. I screamed. Nothing kept the taste, the smell and the feel of him from me. I went to bed in a black mood and awoke the next morning aroused as the hint of a dream involving him evaporated. I cursed myself helplessly as I masturbated to his memory. It was downright shameful.

By Monday I couldn’t keep him from my mind. I was useless at work, barely able to go through the motions. There was no doubt in my mind, I would jog tonight, I would see him, I would surrender once again. I hated myself for it. I hated him. Yet, I couldn’t wait to feel the grip of his fingers entwined in my hair again even though it hurt. I even wanted him to fuck me though I knew he would tear me open if he did.

So there I was, jogging again. More than once I almost turned down a different path, but I continued on the path toward him. ‘Perhaps he won't be there’ I reasoned, ‘Perhaps he won’t even look at me, disgusted by how pathetic I am.’

Then I was there, I jogged around the bend. And there he stood, waiting, staring at me. He said not a word just turned off into the trees and I followed wordlessly. There we were at the pond, I was on my knees and it all happened again. I did better this time, he grunted and growled, his fingers tore hair out, and then…I managed not to choke on his release this time. I drank it down, still there was too much and it ran from my nose and lips.

When I looked up, with his hand still in my hair, he was smiling. I even imagined I saw a hint of warmth in his cold gray eyes, but then it was gone, never there, just imagined. Then he let me go and turned away to piss against a tree. The bitter stench of it was a shock against my lust riddled mind and I flinched from it. Then he pulled his shorts on and vanished into the trees. Neither of us had spoken a word and I just sat up on my heels in silence for a good twenty minutes just to try to think clearly.

I went home well after dark. This time I savored the feel of his seed upon me. I didn’t bother with dinner either, he had left me full. Only the thought of my filthy sheets in the morning convinced me to wash the mess off.

The next evening, i skipped karaoke and jogged on a Tuesday. He wasn’t there. That night to my shame, I cried myself to sleep. It was foolish but I felt absolutely rejected. I knew only his name, we’ve spoken no more than ten or twenty words, yet my every waking thought revolved around him, my every nightmare was him as well.

I was fleeing through the forest, stumbling over roots, whipped by branches. He was behind me, hunting me. He could smell his cum upon me for miles and was going to finish me off. Then somehow he was before me, all teeth, claws and fur with a monstrous erection. I couldn’t stop, I fell upon it and felt it spear through my chest as those teeth flashed and my throat was torn free.

I awoke screaming with my hips jerking. I found myself mid orgasm and utterly confused emotionally. Then my alarm sounded and I had only minutes to rush clean and flee to the safety of work. I felt as if I had no chance to catch my breath or think about what had happened. I still hadn’t thought it all through. Then I was there again, mind still numb as I rounded the bend.

And he was there, as before, just standing in wait with that penetrating stare.

“I ...I came yesterday” I told him, suddenly shy and flustered.

He just smiled that predatory smile, “Was outta town.” Then he turned for the forest and I followed him. For the third time I feasted up his lust, the only sustenance I needed. I had never done hard drugs but I now felt I know what addicts went through. I could not ever get enough. I was never satisfied. I only wanted, wanted more of him.

Friday was the same, then Monday again. By now, I was getting so good at it I was finishing him, before dark and sat savoring him until I could slip home in the night. He never stayed, never spoke unless I spoke first. Until Wednesday.

I was laying upon my back, licking my fingers clean and waiting for dark when he spoke. I hadn’t even watched for him to leave, just laid in the rushes. I had been debating masturbating there in the woods when he said to me “Won’t be around Friday. I’ll see you Saturday, kay?”

I looked up at him with a moment of terrible loss at having to wait so long, “y-yes” I sputtered.

“I have’ta give ya somethin’ though.” he said after a moment’s hesitation. Then he stepped forward, jogging shorts still down. He grasped his flaccid member, the foreskin hung limply from the end. Then if flared and a splattering stream landed in my lap. I jerked away and sank my hand to the wrist in mud but his stream lifted to follow me.

I looked up into his face and saw something in it as he emptied on my chest, “Wha..what are you doing?”

“You be mine, ya belong to me, my bitch, my territory. I will find ya Saturday, anywhere and you’ll never escape,” he told me, then splashed his piss over my face as the stream slacked with a beastily snarl, “My Bitch!” Then he turned away as all my nightmares came to me. Panic clutched at my heart and a tiny involuntary whimper escaped.

He was in every dream and every dream was a nightmare. He was a demon, a monster, a horror from news. Every nightmare woke me with an orgasm until I ran out of clean sheets Wednesday night and woke in a puddle of cum, sweat and lust. Thursday was an act of futility and that night a repeat of the one before, except in the morning I awoke pawing at the pile of dirty sheets atop me and found I had slept near the heater, naked on the floor. That day, Friday I called in sick and hid in my room...after I laundered all the bedding.

I was filled with dread and yearning and only chanced to notice on the news that it was a full moon as my favorite newscaster said “Another full moon and the city is terrified. Six deaths this past year, each on a full moon, everyone wants to know who’s next?”

I had heard about it, yet somehow the news had slipped from my memory. They always found the victim raped and mutilated, limbs and organs missing. Suddenly, I knew I was next. Derek was going to find me, rape me and eat me alive...and suddenly I moaned with desperate need. Outside my bedroom window the moon peeked over the yard. Quietly I slipped from my bed and went to unlock the front door, then in my underwear and robe I stepped out.

The porch light failed to come on, the street light was out too. A shudder came over me as I peered into the dark, I sought any sign of movement. I found none. With something like disappointment I turned back inside and left the door ajar. The microwave said 10:49pm, still Friday. I sat myself upon the couch and watched the moon outside the patio.

Sometime like a child who tries to stay up late, I must have fallen asleep. When I next looked up it was 2:18am Saturday morning and my heart pounded. “Derek?” I asked and looked to the front door.

The answer was bone shaking growl as something ducked under the door frame then kicked the door shut behind it. It was all fur, teeth and claws, just like my first fantasy nightmare. A thick inhuman phallus poked from a black furred sheath as well. He lept across the room, fifteen feet in a single bound and his eyes caught the light from the moon. Silver Blue. Then his massive form landed upon me.

I was beset by claws, they raked my hips and back as he turned me. His teeth flashed down and sank into my shoulder. Hot saliva ran down my skin followed by my own hot blood. He had me on my belly, face down suffocated in the couch cushion. He wasted no time, I couldn’t breathe to scream, I had no chance to react, suddenly he was inside of me. All I felt was a thrust then a shock of warmth, no pain. Then blackness came.

Sometime in the night I must have awoken for I remember brief flashes of his brutal use of me. I also remember pain, disturbing and strange, loose unhealthy sensations, as if my organs were being ripped out. Yet, I had one lucid moment of sunshine as hot broth slid past my teeth, so I knew, I wasn’t dead.

I awoke in delirium more than once, the walls pulsed in time with my heart. I looked up to see him, Derek over me, thrusting, but he seemed strange. Every nightmare had him in the forest not the safe confines of my bedroom.

Another brief return to awareness as I drank the first sip of a mug full of hot bitter urine. I tried to pull away but he was so strong, I was helpless but to drink it all. Then there was another mug of soup and I was gone before I finished it.

It was Thursday afternoon when I finally woke. I was weak, yet my mind was clear. I stumbled into the kitchen and reached for an apple I took one bite and almost threw up into the sink. Then I saw, or perhaps I smelled an open container of bacon and began to eat it, raw. It wasn’t until I was half full that I remembered I was vegetarian. I’d not eaten meat in two decades. I stared down at the raw meat and tried to resist. I couldn’t. I gobbled the rest, all in a confused blink.

Next was a shower—after nearly a week in bed, covered with both cum and piss—I needed one. I was mid wash when I shocked myself so bad I slipped. My ass was fine, not even sore...completely unused, yet when I touched my sack, I found it raw and split along its seam. My fingers disappeared inside it, a unique sensation to say the least. The root of my penis, once firmly bound in place, was now torn aside to make room. I must, to my shame, admit that I screamed. I could find no sign of my testicles, they had been there before.

“My Bitch!” echoed through my mind as I sobbed in the water huddled in the corner. What had he done to me? I wondered, then shied away from the horrific question.

The door flew open and in stepped—him, and he had a frown upon his face. I’d never seen him frown, it was terrifying. “You ate the bacon I was thawin’ ” he stated.

“Wh...Where are they?” I sobbed.

“Huh?” he grunted.

I pointed between my thighs, enlightenment dawned in his eyes and he licked his lips “I ate ‘em, ya tasty bitch. Please me well or I might take another bite.”

I shuddered and scrambled out of the shower, hands and knees miss moving I tripped in my haste and my chin scrapped tile. My hand tugged at his jeans and I sobbed, getting him all wet. He sighed, bent over to pluck my naked form from the floor like a child and chastised me, “I was only teasin’ Bitch.” Then he kissed me. I’d dreamed of his kiss, fantasized, yearned for it. When he kissed me and I calmed, immediate and complete.

With my arms about his neck he carried me into the bedroom, as if I weighed nothing. He laid me down then kissed me again until I was sucking at his tongue and lifting my hips to rub myself into his denim covered thighs. Somehow, even though I was hard enough to cut a diamond my penis wouldn’t stand up, it just hung, stiff, between my thighs. Then I recalled the torn root and the deep passage into my belly.

He did too apparently, for as I thought he undid his belt to free himself. Then he pulled my knees open and climbed between. Bitch indeed, I moaned in unfamiliar pleasure as he sank to the hilt in my belly. I stared up into his eyes and knew intimately, my place.

“I love you,” I told him, he laughed and took me harder. It hurt, my muscles so weak, many of them cramped or strained. I was in tears before he finished and clutched at him with all my ragged strength.

He panted and growled like an animal as he drew close, then howled. I have never heard a wolf in the wild, only on TV or online, yet that was a wolf song he sang into me that shivered my bones. With it, his back arched as tight as a drawn bow, I felt him cum. Nothing spilled from between my thighs but my stomach swelled around it and I felt my own pleasure peak.

Finished, he tried to rise but I wouldn’t let him go. I cried a little, my face in his chest, then asked, “What did you do to me?”

His hand stroked through my hair, then clenched and pulled my head back. He winked, “Nothing important, Bitch.”

“I...I opened my door for you...I expected you to...I mean, I wanted you to… I mean… are you the full moon murderer?”

He looked into my eyes, the smile gone suddenly. I felt a chill and recoiled, but his grip on my hair kept me in place. Slowly he nodded, “You was gonna to be my next prey, but—ya surprised me. That first evenin’ ya gave me pleasure, me, a complete stranger. I was watchin’ ya all year and it was so out of yer character, I didn’t know what’ta think. So I returned, then returned again,” “What are you?” I gasped out. wide eyed and chilled to the bone, “I dreamed you were hunting me, every night since….”

“Since ya followed a stranger into the forest just’ta choke on his dick?” He suggested. I flushed with abject humiliation and nodded, “Not unexpected. Yer kind cannot have such a close encounter wid mine without ita changin’ ya after all. Ya waste yer whole lives lookin’ for somethin’ more than ya self, then when ya find it, somethin’ just breaks.”

“Kind?” I asked.

“Human, well, you was.”

“...was?”

He grinned, then pulled his shaft from me, which made my whole body clench with confused pain and pleasure. Then came a huge puddle of his cum to soak into my mattress. “You my bitch, now, not human, still growin’ though. Drink.” He ordered, then pushed himself up and landed his phallus between my lips, just in time to catch his sour filth from his bladder. I sputtered, I choked, I was drenched in the backwash. Then timidly, I drank with great gulps and wide disgusted eyes. He patted my head like a dog and told me, “Gotta make sure the infection takes real good. Ya body done fightin’ but yer soul ain’t.” My eyes closed, confused and my stomach hurt.

The next few weeks were strange to say the least. I went back to work that Friday but my boss sent me home after taking one look at my emaciated body and bruised hollow eyes. I did not show him my claw and bite wounds, they were still raw and angry.

So day after day, I was in truth, his bitch, awake or asleep, sore, sick, or healthy—He used me, as many times as seven a day. And of course, the “contagion” he spoke of, I didn’t know what to make of his claims but “no” was a word no longer allowed upon my lips. He never abused me, but his strength and will were irresistible. He said drink? I drank either by choice, or by force with a funnel. I only forced him to do it once and the bruises on my lips took a week to fade.

One week passed, then another, a routine formed. He fed me, he fucked me, I went to work, I came home, he fucked me, he fed me, I went to bed, I woke from a nightmare and he fucked me again to sleep. Even though I no longer feared him, my dreams still persisted, worse than ever. Sometimes I was the hunter and I was the one stalking some poor person. Either way, whether I died or I killed, I awoke in terror and mid climax.

“It’s yer soul fightin’ me,” He told me one night, then forced me to drink a pint of his blood. No was not in my vocabulary.

Another week passed and we were on the cusp of the next full moon. “Tomorrow night Bitch, I win,” He told me as I drank my bitter medicine. All day my body had felt odd, too hot, too cold, or too still. I paced at work, restless. My belly clenched, hungry, yet not for food. When I told him, all he had to say was “hormones, no balls, right? Yer body’s confused.” Yet as he said it there was an odd look in his eye, a hunger like my own.

The next day it was worse and I found myself slipping into the toilet to masturbate. The plumbing was all torn and broken now, yet still, I came breathlessly if dryly. I longed for the feel of ejaculation, but at least I didn’t need to clean up. On my way home I had to stop twice and found a puddle forming in my underwear, worse each time.

Then I was home, the tension in my belly was enough that I left the door open as I tore through the house looking for Derek. He wasn’t home yet and I fell to my knees and howled in confused rage. Then I sat, tension growing worse and worse. I was writhing, I was tortured, I clawed at my own skin until I felt a sickening sensation like being cloven in twain. I screamed and it became a bestial howl, a wolf howl.

My eyes fell upon the patio door, a nightmare visage looked back with shining gold eyes that caught the rising moon. Then the door behind me banged into the wall as Derek stepped in almost too big to fit. Only my vaulted ceiling let him stand straight, tall and beautiful before me.

I leaped with flashing teeth and reaching claws. He caught and threw me back across the room. I cannot tell you exactly what happened next, only that from heart to soul I was taught my place under him; my leader, my mate, his bitch. Then sometime in the night, side by side we hunted. I know now the taste of human flesh and what can I say? I liked it.

When the moon set around 3am, I found myself halfway across the city in someone’s backyard with Derek still atop me and a dead woman below. I will admit, I was shocked, not the least by the feel of his immense erection and its painfully large knot. I would not ever have considered myself violent, yet the bloody sight below me….It was mouth watering and arousing. And that shocked me.

I looked back to gaze upon him atop me, still in wolf shape with his teeth locked on my shoulder and knot tied in my womb. And yes, somehow I knew I had a womb. The gaping open body below me, I had eaten it right out of her. My penis was gone, my body converted, my heart and soul reborn for my leader. I let my fur out again and bucked back against him. My wolf song started before his, unable now to hold back my pleasure. I howled like a bitch in heat and of a sudden knew that I was. We howled in unison as we peaked together and he flooded and filled me.

Now, you might think my life would never be the same after this, yet, on Monday I went to work, then jogged. The only difference? Derek jogged at my side until we reached the last bend on the lake. With a look, we dipped into the trees and found our place next to the pond.

I worked, he brought home food and cooked. I served him, and he trained me. I gave my womb to him, and after a month we knew he had filled it, I’m sure you can imagine how confused my boss was when I requested maternity leave but when he felt the kick, even he couldn’t deny I was pregnant.

And then my life really did change. At home, in bed, I gave birth to quintuplets, three boys, two girls. It had to be at home for they had to be birthed in the fur. I didn’t know a doctor who knew what to do with werewolves anyway. And the second change, one day the door opened and in walked a man. I didn’t know him. Then another, and another. By midnight there were 17 strangers men paying me and the kids no mind as they ate, pissed on the furniture, and played with one another. They were violent, powerful men, who shared a camaraderie I had never before witnessed.

Then Derek was there with a stocky man of quick eye and quicker smile. “Bitch, this be Lou, me right hand. You go into heat next moon, you be his.“

I looked between the two with a whine, “ You...you don’t want me anymore?”

“Sh...no, it’s not that. You belong to the tribe. After Lou, then Jack’s turn, then Red, you get? But you be my bitch, I say who fills you,” He told me firmly.

“Yes, Alpha,” I replied softly, then flinched as Lou let out his fur, a dark gray with silver eyes. As Derek watched, he took me, he mated me, and I saw no jealousy in Derek’s eyes, only a possessive appreciation. A child, only two month, yipped and bounded over to grab one of my six swinging breasts to feed.

I never did go back to work, too many kids to feed, too many men to satisfy. I still go jogging occasionally, but they don’t make a sports bra for six lactating breasts full of milk. What a bummer…

End

9/30/2018

This work is © omo.thenest.host and its creator Omo All Rights Reserved.
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