Reflections

--- Emily ---

Lycanthropy comes with a unique set of changes, physical and mental. I think the physical ones are the worst. Not the obvious body changes, no. The hormonal ones. The urges and new desires.

It's hard to control but you can learn to control it if you're the right kind of person. Otherwise you go crazy from it.

Four years. Forty-eight months. Roughly one hundred and forty-four changes. Give or take. Fuck whoever that was on the mountain four years ago. Fuck him and his need.

But, by God, I understand it. The hunger. The heat. The heat more than anything once you get the beast under control. I had an okay sex drive before. I liked sex when I was in the mood for it but I could go a while without and still be happy. A good video or piece of erotica or something in between lovers and I was sated for a while. Once a week or so when I was in a relationship.

Now, outside of the full moon, I need it almost every day. When the full moon hits, I hurt from the need to get off. Thankfully my job is flexible and I schedule way out in advance. Those days I'm home. Masturbating. Eating. Needing.

Even when it's not a full moon, my life is forever changed. I can no longer wear anything that shows my belly. No bikinis. Dentist visits are out. Doctor visits are a no-go. Thankfully, a side effect is that I'm really, really healthy. Freakishly so. One might even say I can heal from almost anything within a day or two.

Almost anything.

Fucking Jacques. My fault there.

A year into my change, when I finally brought the beast under control, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to have a lover. The heat and base, animalistic urge to have a mate (trust me, it's not the same as a lover) was harder to resist than the beast herself. So I took some time to find one. Went on a ton of first dates and asked little probing questions as carefully as I could. I was a walking talking personality test. HR departments would've loved to have me on their team. I could sniff out assholes from a mile away (literally sometimes) and knew just what to ask to suss out the ones I couldn't smell.

Or so I thought. Jacques hit all the right notes. Calm, thoughtful, sweet, caring and intelligent. You'd think I'd be looking for some macho alpha male crap but, hell no. That's a recipe for murderous raging beast. Plus, despite Lupa inside of me, I happen to like a guy that'll be sweet to me. Until the heat hits then collars are off, nails come out and I expect blood to be drawn while we fuck. Beast in the sheets, sweet in the streets? Sure.

Night of the full moon comes and I change Jacques. We hadn't had sex yet (hey, I'm self conscious about my body) and I thought I'd found The One.

Holy Jesus Fuck, it was amazing. I'd gone a year without being fucked and enduring the heat throughout and finally, finally I had a mate. Best day ever.

But, I guess you can't reduce someone to a personality chart completely. The beast changed him. I don't think he even tried to fight it. He reveled in the power and strength and brutality and carnal needs. I tried. For half a year, I worked with him. Reasoned with him. Suffered through his bouts of rage. Tried to get him to listen. My Lupa had enough before I did.

The last night I had with him, on the night of the full moon, we were out in the middle of nowhere while I tried to work with him on controlling the beast and he struck me. Not in a rough sex kind of way, no. That would've been fine if we were playing that game. No. She took control from me in an instant, burying her teeth in his throat. I struggled against her but it seems she has a limit and knew it better than me. I hurt for days, even with the way I heal. Days. I almost lost the thumb on my left hand and that's saying something.

Now it's the night before Halloween and I've been dating again. Trying, anyway. I fucking hate dating. So many assholes and "nice guys" and the same bro over and over that still thinks he's stuck in his sophomore year of college. I'm tired of it but I have to keep trying.

"Buck up, Emily," I tell myself. Staring in the mirror, I flash my teeth and wince at the obviously sharp canines. I can't tell you how many times I've had to explain them away to people. They aren't full-on vampire teeth but they sure the hell aren't normal human teeth, either. Thank you random mountainous werewolf creature. Thank you so fucking much.

No zits (not anymore, not since the first change) and my hair's all in perfect place, pulled back into a ponytail. Looking fine if I do say so myself. Got my comfy work clothes on and my good shoes.

Let's do it.

The drive is quiet and uneventful for a large city. I work and live on the outskirts so I get to skip most of the traffic issues. I'm a therapist in a small physical therapy office and focus primarily on leg injuries. Lower body at least. Out of the car, shrugging off the cold (thank you, Lupa) and into the building. I've worked here five years and love it. Keeps me active and moving and time passes fast because of it. Although I guess I don't need exercise to keep in shape anymore.

"You've got your new client coming in about ten minutes," Janice says. I smile at her and thank her because she's our awesome receptionist. Christian as all get out but not pushy so she gets a smile. Super friendly.

Buck's the only other person in the office since it's a light schedule tonight and he's working with a high school kid on a shoulder injury.

"Hey Emily," Buck says without looking. "Don't forget to update the board. Your turn."

"Oh, I remembered," I tell him. In fact, I've been looking forward to it. And have been subtly maneuvering into being the one to do it this week. Dropping off my stuff, I grab a dry erase marker and stand in front of the board. Finally, I nod and start writing.

"The Howling 2," a voice eventually says behind me. My 8 am client. He smells nice. A little sweaty, though and hasn't even started exercising. A nervous, no - anxious smell. Sounds like his right knee is hurt based on the way he steps and I can hear a little bit of pain under his voice. I'm going to guess football injury and, let's see, twenty-seven years old. White dude and brown hair.

"You're right," I say, turning to smile at him. Ah, rats, bad guess. Black hair. Still looks twenty-seven, though.

"And An American Werewolf in London for the third one," he says and then stops to think for a bit. He looks up and to the left when he does that, and taps his finger against his leg. "The second is, uh, Nosferatu?"

"One hundred percent, you get a gold sticker," I tell him and step forward with my hand out. "Horror movie lover?"

"Oh, yeah, I mean, good ones," he says with a firm shake. "I'm behind on the times, though. I'm Daniel. You must be Emily?"

"One hundred and ten percent," I answer. "Have a seat on the table. You know, I thought nobody would get the first question."

Every week we rotate out trivia questions and, this week, with Halloween around the corner, I thought I'd set out some bait. Dumb and low chance of catching anything but, shit, what else can I do? I picked two werewolf movies and a vampire one just so I didn't look like a total weirdo. American Werewolf in London was easy. Nosferatu semi-difficult but how many other landmark '20s horror movies are there? No, the real catch is the Howling 2.

First, I made the question obscure: "What 80's horror movie starred a 1970's Captain America actor?"

Answer? The Howling 2. But, I picked it not just because it's obscure (and a sequel) but because it's a dirty, dirty sex filled werewolf movie. There's literally a scene where werewolves (poorly) do it. No, I haven't watched it multiple times for masturbation material. Of course I wouldn't lie about that. Look, over there! Squirrel!

It's a dumb test but how the flying fuck do you expect to try to catch someone who might be okay with being a werewolf? I've ran the idea of just asking "Hey, would you like to be a werewolf?" to a date after we've been going out for a while but I haven't gotten there yet. It's a sore point that I still debate mentally. If I ask and they say no, then what? I kill them. But if I like them and take a chance and change them and apologize afterwards? Well. Foot in the proverbial werewolf door, you know?

Fuck, who am I kidding? I'm scared. Scared of failing and I know what I'm doing is shitty but I can't keep doing this and I'm terrified of taking a chance and killing someone innocent again. So I lie to myself that it's alright. I can't wait longer. I honestly believe I'll lose control of her again. It's been two years and I'm running out of time.

"I don't know many people that have seen that one," I say with a smirk as he sits back on the table. "Or that want to admit it."

"Well," he says with a little bit of a blush. Adorable. "I watched a lot of movies growing up and I like monster movies."

"Oh yeah?" I ask slightly disinterestedly. Oh yeah? I think, ears perking up. Yes, they're slightly pointed. Yes, I try to hide it a little. Yes, I'm terrified that they'll continue to grow out into sharper points the longer I live with the beast. So far, so good. "Alright, tell me what's wrong."

We talk a bit. Recreational touch football injury. Touch football. Oh my. Torn ACL from lack of proper strengthening and sudden sideways motion and a good lick of bad luck. He's cute and has a good self-deprecating sense of humor. I'd fuck him and turn him into a monstrous beast. No problem.

She stirs within me and my smile freezes for a second while I push back. I don't think he noticed. Down girl, I think. I was kidding. So far.

We talk and I probe as gently as I can.

"We're going to go through a range of exercises and I'll make you a list for you to do at home," I tell him. "Do you have someone with you that can help if you need it?"

"I'm not, no," he says, blushing a little again and swallowing. Awww. I just want to pinch his adorable reddened cheeks. "Just me. I'll figure it out if I have to, though."

There's no female scents on him but it's always best to ask. Although, even if his girlfriend or fiancée had been out of town a while, I would've smelled her. Our scents tend to pile up when we stay in one place too long and then we drag those scents around us.

"Yeah, you'll probably be fine," I say, letting him off the hook. I keep talking with him and working him through basics to find range of motion. Warehouse manager (wooo, exciting) and he hurt himself playing on a company team. Likes to go hiking and camping and kayaking and biking like every other goddamn Tinder profile I've read. Likes old movies and is trying to learn metal crafting to make jewelry to sale on the side.

I want to give him shit for all the generic-ness but then I realize that I'm also into just being outdoors and also curling up inside. And baking. And sometimes cooking. And definitely eating.

He's got a really nice ass. All the biking, I bet. Lupa stirs again and I have to clear my throat in a quiet, low rumble. She wants.

At the end, we set up appointments for twice a week and I move onto my next patient, going through the motions while I chew on the thought and scent of Daniel. I'm afraid to admit that I'm a little hopeful for him. Enough that I'm excited for the next appointment in two days.

---

The day after Halloween, a little less than two weeks to the full moon and I've got Daniel in my proverbial claws again.

"It was fun, lots of adorable kids in costumes," Daniel says through quiet grunts. I've got him doing simple leg lifts at the moment. Nice calves that go well with his ass. Could stand to lose a little weight but at least he's got some muscle and tone. Yeah, I'm still allowed to be a little picky even with my condition.

"I went out with my niece," I tell him. "I'm the overprotective aunt that growls at anyone that gets too close." Yes, I mention things like that on purpose. The whole 'growl' and such. Yes, it's cliche. "Did you have a favorite costume growing up?"

I can smell his embarrassment before he does the blushing thing again. Lupa whines and I feel my stomach start to ache. Well, not my stomach. It's not really adorable anymore. The blushing. It's, well, it's turning me on. Not just that but all of it connected. I'm liking Daniel more than is currently comfortable.

"Ah, well," he shrugs and then grunts while setting his leg down too hard. "My mom made a pretty rad vampire costume when I was eight. Fangs and cape and everything. I'm not a big vampire fan but it was a really great costume."

Darn. Can't win them all, I guess. I mean, what are the chances a werewolf lover just waltzes right into my life when I need it? And who says 'rad' anymore?

"I thought with the whole 'Howling 2' thing the other day that you might be a werewolf fan," I say and then immediately cringe. Jesus Christ, Emily. You wanna just announce it right there? Lupa growls within. I just want this one. I want this one to work, goddammit. I like him, I tell her.

"Oh, hah, I mean," he shrugs and does this little sketchy sideways eye thing. "I do like werewolves. My friend got to be the werewolf that year. It was a better costume. Even had fake fur. You just don't get a lot of people talking about them. It's all about zombies and vampires."

"I know," I say. And I do. Fucking zombies, man. That's all it ever is because it's cheap and easy to do a zombie costume in a movie. Not so much with the special effects needed to show someone transforming into a bipedal beast. "I like werewolves but I guess it costs too much to show them."

He gives me a curious look. I can't tell what it's about exactly but it smells like something interesting. Just an open mind, maybe? I can work with that.

"Hey, Emily," Buck asks. "Can you give me a hand for second over here?"

"I'm busy," I growl and then wince. Goddammit, Lupa. You can't just pull that shit. But, no, she's just sitting there on her imaginary paws looking all innocent. As if she didn't just push me to say that like a jealous lover attending to her mate. "Sorry, gimme a sec."

Leaving Daniel on the balance board, I help Buck get his gear setup for the next patient. And then I just watch Daniel.

He's sweating and he's got this really intense look of focus that makes me all hot and bothered. Oh, and he really, really sucks at the balance board. But what gets me is that he keeps failing and then getting back up. Again and again. When he goes too far to the side, he resets and tries again. Definitely nice calves on that one.

"Alright, switch up," I tell him.

"Can I just keep trying a little?" He asks and I smile with just the right amount of teeth, even though he's not looking.

"You don't have to," I say. "Your knee's wobbling. Looks kinda tired."

"I know but I think I can get it," he says.

Oh gosh. Oh golly. He's sticking his tongue out a little bit with that same intense look. Be still my heart. And my loins.

"Be my guest," I say, voice low and sultry as I watch him, my smile widening to show more teeth. Watching his legs and ass and crotch and feeling the heat start spreading from my stomach until I growl. "I'll be right back."

I stalk into the bathroom, frantically unzipping my blue jeans as the door closes behind me. The full moon is getting closer and the heat is building to obnoxious levels.

Sitting against the edge of the sink, one hand down my pants and under my panties, I close my eyes and picture him there. Kissing me. Just holding me like I'm a normal woman, lips against mine. Feeling his hardness (god yes) against me. Whispering dirty things into his ear just before I nip it. And then (oh, I'm close, so close) on my back with him above me, gloriously naked.

My hand slips under the bottom of my shirt and I tense, hips jerking a little.

On my back, waiting for him. Waiting. The heat and start of the change a physical pain. Waiting.

Pain. The staring, dead eyes of my friend looking beyond me. So close to the edge. Blood everywhere. He stood there, watching me. His fat, red cock bloated and angry and throbbing above a thick knot.

My hand stops and I shudder with a heavy sigh. The mountain werewolf.I thought he'd wanted me dead at the time but I've learned since then that violence and sex are difficult to distinguish when the beast is in control. I remember those first few months where I struggled and I can't imagine if I'd just given in and never tried to contain it.

And yet, I still see it vividly behind my closed eyes. His knot. Disgusting at the time but my tastes have changed to say the least. Riled from watching Daniel and my own heat, even the harsh memory of that night does little to stop me. It's just been so long since I've been knotted and I need it so much.

"You have to be calm," I tell Lupa quietly. "Even they will smell this if it gets worse. Go back to sleep and let me keep watching him until we're sure. Please, Lupa."

I stand, cleaning myself up as best I can. Washing my hands roughly four times until my own scent is faded even to me.

Heart racing, I step lightly back into the room, grinding my teeth at my swollen, needy sex. The rest of the session is rough but mostly uneventful. Two more before I have to take a chance.

My head is throbbing and I worry about it a little. For several months, it's acted up the closer it gets to the full moon. Makes for a shorter temper but Lupa is there to talk to me. I know it's the heat burning through me and the urge to find a mate. I just need to take my time and do it right, despite her growling hisses. Feels like the bitch has her claws deeper and deeper in me some days.

---

The next session, I flirt. Subtle. Very, very brief and semi-professional hand touches to guide his exercises. A little more manual stretching than is perhaps called for. I get him to laugh with stories of my youth (well, I'm still young so my younger youth) and stupid camping trips.

It's not until the fourth session that he starts being more personable, dropping the standard guarded patient vibe. Yup, that's right, trust me. Just your average everyday young physical therapist. I have to visit the bathroom twice that time and it's not even one of the three nights of the full moon. By the end of the session, my mind is made up. Lupa will fucking frenzy if I don't take this chance.

"Alright," I say forcefully with a smile that trembles. I don't know how they can't hear my heartbeat pounding in my chest. I am in such harsh control of myself that I know I'm gonna have to use the basement tonight. I'm struggling here. "Let's get you all scheduled for next week."

"Well, I'm-"

"Oh no," I interrupt him. "I forgot my next week is crazy. I'm full up until the next Friday. But, it looks like I can make some time Saturday evening? At 5?"

I can almost see his brain clunk and churn.

"I didn't know you were open on the weekends," he says. Oh, I'm all kinds of open to all kinds of things.

"Normally, no, but I'm gonna make an exception since you have your follow-up at the doctor's office soon. We definitely want to get you in good shape for that. I mean, unless you've got plans?"

Please please please please please please. I almost fucking whine while waiting for him to think about it.

"No, I'm free," he replies. "Just about any time works for me but 5 pm is fine."

"Oh, great!" I smile and my hand only trembles a tiny bit when I pretend to enter the information into our scheduling computer. Definitely gonna be in the basement tonight. Tomorrow, too. First night of the full moon and a day before I take a mate? Oh yeah.