Sheep In Wolf's Clothing

The Hunter closed in around shanty hut, the dim light of his dying torch shimmering as he paced, eyeing for an entrance. I could feel myself turning under the Watching Moon's gaze, the wolf I suppressed screaming to be released, as the Hunter barged in through the entrance. I see his hands tremble - he's new at this, I thought - as he points his flintlock in my direction; silver bullets assured. The barrel of his once-finely crafted Miquelet approaching my kneeling body with his every step.

I felt the cool steel of the barrel upon my forehead, but couldn't bare to look; whether it was the pain of my attempts to suppress my turning, or the sheer fright of what was to come, I was not sure.

"Beast," he said, his voice younger than I had expected, firm as it was, it lacked confidence. Likely, he was one of the last surviving males.

"Thou ravage my home, my people, and my God. I shall give thee the punishment equal to what is merited to you."

I 𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 tried. But as I opened my eyes and saw my would-be killer, my desire flashed stronger than my will, and I turned. I wasn't a true wolf, at least, not like any I'd seen before. My mother, a forester - human. My father, a wolf. I felt my ears extend over past my blonde hair, small patches of gray fur extending from them, and subtle but sharp claws from my fingertips. And a tail grow too. I'd never get used to that damned tail. I coughed a bit - transformation is never easy. I couldn't help but nervously chuckle when I saw his frightened blue eyes peering through his ruffled brown hair. He had stumbled back against the wooden walls of my shack. He really 𝘸𝘢𝘴 new at this.

"I understand your task, human, if it must be done, it must be done. Your God wills it."

He slowly raised his pistol to my person, hands now in a full quiver as if taken by a winter's ague.

"But, of course, forgive me for defending my self." I said with sheepish acknowledgment.

I rushed at him first, my small hands deflecting his pistol, as I went for his chest. What I hadn't accounted for was his strength. The shock subsided as he gathered his wits, and moments before my strike, he grabbed my wrists and tumbled me to the floor, his weight upon mine, his hands around mine. I struggled against his strength until he let go of his left and wrapped it around my throat.

"What must be done, must be done, beast."

He hands clenched harder, to the point of airlessness, and I felt... bliss? I smiled a bit at him - having no idea what else I could do - and to my surprised he loosened his grip enough to let a weak breath through."

"What's wrong, human?"

I took advantage of his momentary lapse in murderous intent to buffet his liver - he writhed in pain as he knelt over me, significantly weakened.

"You... bitch."

His anger flowed right through me in the form of lust, a rushing river of wanton blood throughout my veins. I reached past his ears, past his hair, grabbed ahold of his nape. I pulled myself up to him and, as if possessed by a succubal poltergeist of craving, I kissed him harshly. My hand fell back through his hair and across his cheek, and I felt a warmth - whether of love, lust, or abashment, I did not know.

The moment subsided and we shared a longing look; the look subsided and so did his trance. I felt a rough blow to my side, and coughed up what must have been blood. I wrapped my hand around his upper arm as I braced, and let a tear or two out. I could feel his muscles disburden, and a look of regret upon his face.

I lay for a moment, recovering my disposition. I was surprised, but grateful, that he ceased his blows. He too was tiring; I felt his weight upon me, his chest to my breasts, his breaths deep and rapid. His upper arm's muscle was large and strong and provided a perfect place to brace my hands. I soon realized that rubbed upon me was his rigid member. I was glad to know, at least, that the desire was mutual. He collapsed beside me, presumably to rest, but my fervent needs outweighed my tiring body; I pounced upon him, and with precise clawed cuts I removed his shirt, and felt his chest upon my hands.

I felt his cock under my buttocks, and arched back as I continued to feel his sturdy chest. With deep pleasure I rubbed my ass on his penis; I was always hungry on transformation. He unsheathed his staff as I moved my way down, past his chest, his belly, and eventually to my coveted prize.

It was bigger than I was used to, or maybe it had just been awhile, but it filled my mouth and then my throat. I did not care. His hand brushed through my hair and his slight pushes guided me as it throbbed inside. I gasped for air, he allowed but a pant before guiding my mouth back to his cock with force. My pack would have exiled me, accused of domestication, but me and my mister shared one common fact: our packs were no more. He ravaged my throat until the tears were too great before allowing me to come up for air. I panted and sobbed, but my desire was too great.

"Master, I need more," I whispered.

"What you need is to be domesticated."

Though only a few years over a couple decades old, I felt his command. He put his hands on my chin and opened my mouth to see his virile seed, before grabbing my waist and putting me on my back. He sucked on my neck as I felt his cock enter me, with impetus his poundings began. It troubles me to remember the events past that point, as, under his watch, my thoughts slipped away like a leaf in the autumn's wind. I remember the feeling of each pulse within me, going deeper inside as I begged for more. His subtle groans reverberated through my now empty head as his lips bit ever so softly upon my ears...

What next I remember his sturdy arms flipping me over as he raised himself to his knees. His herculean hands wrapped around my waist, he lifted my behind up and held me through continual poundings; the rough wooden floor was not my concern, as my mindless elation consumed my thoughts. With a hand he grabbed enough of my hair to pull back, and in that moment I was completely at his will.

I could feel his penis' throbs growing and his moans turn to groans until, with a final thrust, his seed flowed inside of me. He let go of my hair; his hands running over my neck, my back, my tail, and finally to my ass. As weak as I was, he lifted me and took me to my cot, where he promptly fell asleep as my transformation reversed under the rising sun.

It is here and now that I write in my journal the events of this night. It is my covet that tonight is not singular, for though our clans had feuded before, it is neither my wish, nor his, to continue these senseless battles. Until his eventual awake, I shall lay here and gaze upon his features, and though awake, I shall dream of what our life may be.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Thank you for reading! This was my first "furry" style erotic piece. I am not a furry myself so I hope I did the genre justice! Please heart this and leave a comment or an email if you want me to write more stuff like this!