Not Another Werewolf Romance

“Rutger threw her on the bed, his body already beginning to transform as his muscled chest and arms sprouted thick grey hair. His jeans ripped at the seams, the bulging manhood tearing free from the constraints of the stone-washed denim as it grew to nearly double its original size.

Jennifer couldn’t suppress a panicked cry as his hands, lengthening and growing vicious talons from the fingertips, ripped her dress off with animal intensity. She gave a plaintive whimper as those huge hands tore her underwear into shreds, the expensive silk and lace no match for the Alpha’s lust.

She lay back, naked and vulnerable, as the huge werewolf completed the shift into his animal form. Rutger had always been a big man, easily six feet and change in human guise, yet in Were form his head brushed the ceiling of the cheap motel room.

His golden eyes met hers and she nodded once, giving her consent. Rutger stepped forwards and parted her legs, gently despite the immense power of his shifted body, easing his huge organ inside of her waiting….”

“Can it, Audrey” my partner murmured to me from where he squatted against the roof ledge.

“But it’s just getting to the good part!” I whined. “There’s huge throbbing manhoods and everything!”

“I thought you told me you hated those Werewolf romances?” he snapped back, his goggled eyes scanning the nighttime streets below us.

“I do!” I insisted and closed the tattered paperback, but not before turning the page corner to mark my place. Thomas, the Ranger assigned to hold my leash tonight, looked back and gave a derisive snort.

“So why do you keep reading the bloody things, Audrey?” he asked, softly because we were on stakeout, yet with that sharp edge underlying his words. It wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation. Whenever we were waiting for a target, I read my stories out loud to him.

“Because they remind me of how stupid I used to be” I told him and he laughed quietly, some of the harshness still there but softened just a bit. That pissed me off, like it always did, and the self-righteous prick knew it.

His full name was Thomas Shaw, a Ranger with the Animal Control Agency, or ACA to those of us who liked to keep things brief, and he had all the requisite qualities the Agency demanded of its most elite operatives. He was strong, smart, well-skilled in using long-range firearms and absolutely convinced that animals like me needed to be kept under control.

I tucked my latest read into a small backpack, the one I used when on duty in the field. It was made of a cut resistant armour weave, the exact same material as my Ranger partner was sheathed in from head to toe, with elasticated carry straps that could shrink or expand as needed. I carried it to the edge of the roof, dropping it beside Thomas’s boots before leaning over the railing to view the city.

The moon was a juicy fat orb on the horizon, full and bright like God’s flashlight shining over the city below. I felt it’s call in my blood and bones, a demand to let myself go and surrender to the beast. It was an urge few could resist and it was only my training that let me keep control of myself.

My eyes dropped to the sprawl of office towers and apartment buildings that surrounded us, the moonlight hiding more than it revealed. It wasn’t a great city, but it was the one I grew up in so I had more than a passing affection for the place. I would tell you its name and location, which is in the East Coast state of (REDACTED) but as you can probably guess the Agency doesn’t like its operatives to spill the beans on our activities.

To be honest, my partner’s name isn’t even really Thomas Shaw, and mine isn’t Audrey King, but I needed to call us something. I can’t keep having you read (REDACTED) every time so I need to make some compromises. So for now, let’s call this fine seaside city Port August and leave it at that. If you can work out where it really is, come and visit and we’ll share a brew together.

“Getting anything?” Thomas asked me. “Besides horny, I mean”

I was feeling kind of horny to be honest. A natural side effect of reading trashy porn disguised as supernatural romance, though in truth it had been too long since the last time anybody put their organ into me, huge or otherwise.

Two years out from ‘the encounter’ as my state sponsored therapist called it and I was still having anxiety issues. Fucking ‘encounter’ was hardly the word to describe something that had ruined my life so utterly and irrevocably, but Doctor Shelley liked to give things neat little labels.

She said it would help me heal and deal with the loss of everything I had held so dear.

Fuck that for a joke. What would help me right now would be a good hard screw with someone I didn’t care about, but that wasn’t on the cards. What was on the cards was the kind of release my job gave me a couple of times each month. Especially on nights when the moon was full.

“Two males, about a block over but coming this way” I answered Thomas. I pointed in the approximate direction that I could smell them, their scent hot and heavy on the night air. He duly aimed his goggles to where I had indicated, fiddling with the controls on the side to magnify or enhance or whatever the bloody things did.

It wasn’t like I would ever need them, not since my body had been so comprehensively changed. My eyesight was sharper, my sense of smell unnaturally intense and my ears able to hear a whispered conversation at over fifty yards.

All of that while still in my own human body. I was stronger too and could easily lift Thomas up over my head and throw him off the roof, if I was so inclined. I was often so inclined but I bit those impulses back since he wasn’t the biggest asshole that I’d been partnered with.

Those others hadn’t lasted that long either, not because of anything I did in case you were wondering. Working for Animal Control had a way of shortening the lifespans of anybody who signed up, voluntarily or otherwise.

“I see them” Thomas said in flat, clipped tones. “They’re stalking a woman, red dress with long black hair. She’s noticed them and is coming this way”

I sniffed the air, catching a hint of some nice perfume overlaying the sour smell of a frightened woman. She thought they wanted to rape her or rob her, maybe a bit of both. If she knew what they really wanted she’d be pissing her panties.

With a skill born from much practice I unzipped my stretchy one-piece unitard and stepped out of it, the cool night air making my skin erupt with goosebumps. Thomas barely glanced at my bare ass as I folded the garment and stashed it into my backpack. It wasn’t like he’d never seen me buck naked before - he just wasn’t interested in the view.

I took a little spray bottle from a side pocket in the backpack and gave myself a quick squirt under each armpit, lifted my boobs to douse the creases there and gave my undercarriage a hefty spray back and front. The official designation of the chemical spray was ‘Lupine Scent Suppressant’ and it was crafted by Agency boffins to hide the odour of a shifted Were.

I called it ‘Bitch-Be-Gone!’ and the stuff worked remarkably well. Those two boys down there wouldn’t smell me coming, especially with their noses already clogged up with Miss Red Dress and her pissy panties.

The bottle got squared away and I slipped the pack over my shoulders, making sure the straps were positioned properly. I couldn’t afford to lose the pack and my precious clothing because the last thing I wanted was to be stark bollock naked in front of strangers.

“Cut me loose, Thomas” I growled, eager to begin the hunt. He stood up and laid his thumb against the thick metal collar that encircled my neck. I had worn it for two years now and still hadn’t gotten used to the clunky piece of hardware. It clicked open and he took it from my throat, laying it beside his sniping gear.

I was naked at last, from the top of my brown haired head to the tips of my mannish toes.

“Operative King uncollared at twelve-thirty-seven” he spoke quietly into a small microphone attached to the side of his head. “Released for action on my authority”

“Copy that, Agent Shaw” I heard the reply come over the comms link. “Bitch King has been uncollared”

That would be Randolph ‘Randy Fucker’ James, our controller back at the Pound. He used to be a Ranger working in the field until he tried it on with one of the female Weres. Bastard was lucky he only lost one arm but he still ogled us ‘bitches’ every chance he got.

He’d never try it with me though. Randy was smart enough to know that a Bitch who’d outlived two Ranger partners was not someone he wanted to tango with. The last girl only ripped his arm off. I’d tear his cock and balls out at the roots then eat them raw while he bled to death in front of me. And I wouldn’t even shift to do it.

“Good luck, Audrey” Thomas told me. “Try and get them into the open if you can”

“Copy that, Thomas” I replied and stepped up onto the ledge, the city laid out before me, waiting for the real me to show herself. Time to hunt.

I triggered my shift as I took one step forwards, gravity taking hold and sending me dropping like a stone towards the pavement three stories below. The shift was fast, something I had spent the last twenty-two odd months practising until I could complete the transformation in the mere seconds it took me to fall forty feet to the ground.

The pavement groaned as I landed hard, my hands and feet shifted into the huge taloned paws of my Were form. I had stepped from the roof of our stakeout as a six foot tall woman and landed as an eight foot tall, heavily muscled and golden furred Werewolf.

Audrey King was tucked away out of sight deep inside of me and the Bitch King was ready for action!

I kicked off from the pavement, my rear claws leaving gouges in the cement slabs as I accelerated into a run. My prey were about two hundred yards away on the other side of a small park, the woman they were stalking moving away from me along a side street.

I crossed the park at a run, my speed the envy of a professional athlete if there was anybody around to time me. A startled cat mewled and bolted for the bushes as I raced past, the only witness to my breathtaking athleticism. I scented a few squirrels in the sparse trees, huddled down for the night, sharing the branches with a pair of pigeons and one watchful owl.

Apart from the wandering feline, now huddled fearfully under a dense hedge, none of the wildlife made a peep as I crossed the grassy field. I might have blocked my scent from the Weres but the locals knew better than to poke their heads out when an apex predator was in the area.

There was a time when I loved cats. I could never have one in my old apartment so I’d take out my feline affections on a cat that lived in the neighbouring building. His name tag declared he was ‘Mister Mittens’ and I’d sneak a cuddle whenever I spotted him lounging on the steps outside the lobby.

The week after I’d been turned, I tried to approach Mister Mittens. He’d hissed at me like I was the Devil herself and given me a deep scratch that had taken days to heal up. I’d been caught and collared by the ACA the next full moon and I had never been back to my old neighbourhood since.

It sounds weird I know, but of all the many things that Arken Laine had stolen from me, it was never seeing Mister Mittens again that I missed the most. Not my old job or work colleagues, not my estranged father nor my drunken sow of a mother. Not even the one person I used to count as my best friend, living in the northern states for the past three years.

Memories could get me killed when I was off the leash so I squashed them down, burying them deep inside. Maybe Doctor Shelley would dig them up later and peruse them with interest, but for now I had to forget about Audrey King and her shitty life.

I vaulted the metal fence that bordered the park and closed in on the two men. They were close to Miss Red Dress now and she was walking as fast as she could without actually running. The men were close to shifting, their bloodlust a palpable aroma that filled my own nostrils and quickened my already racing pulse.

The guy at the back, tall and muscular with gorgeous dark skin and close cropped hair, sensed me at the last instant. He let out a surprised yell and pivoted towards me but he wasn’t fast enough to dodge my blow. Nobody who wasn’t shifted would have been fast enough.

My extended claws ripped across his right shoulder, tearing open his shirt and sending vibrant crimson blood spraying over one cheek and across his back. I’d meant to rip open his neck, to force him into unconsciousness. Instead he flew away from me as my blow hurled him into a parked car, one of them stupidly small electric jobs that could only carry two yuppies in moderate discomfort.

I didn’t have time to worry any further about him as his partner spun towards me, a solidly built redhead with blunt features and dark eyes, shifting rapidly into his own Were form. It took the second guy longer than it should and I wasn’t going to give him a sporting chance. Two long strides forwards and I slashed him with my talons, shredding the sleeve of the jacketed arm he hastily threw in the way of his face.

He spun sideways, blood flying in rivulets to land on the pavement as he caromed off a lamp-post and fell to his knees.

“Bitch!” he growled, the words slurring as his jaws elongated, his whole body transforming into a man-shaped nightmare of the Lupine kind, jeans and jacket ripping and tearing apart as he grew larger. He would be shifted in moments and I had to take all the advantages I could while I had the chance.

Except the woman was still there, watching it all like it was some damned TV show.

“RUN” I barked at her, putting as much urgency into the single word as I could. It was hard to vocalise while shifted and I’d spent a lot of time practising the skill, knowing there would be nights when I needed some idiot human to understand me.

She looked me square in the eyes, panicked and yet weirdly composed, like seeing Werewolves fighting in the street was an expected hazard to night-time travel in Port August. Brawling male drunks, women vomiting into the gutter while a friend held their hair and Weres trying to kill each other - just another night in the big city.

This close I could see she was rather pretty, her long hair bound into a sensible plait, the makeup subtle and alluring, her deep green eyes framed by a rather stylish pair of glasses. She was reaching into her oversized clutch for something, maybe a phone to call a cab or snap a selfie?

“NOW!” I snarled and she finally unfroze, bolting away from me on a pair of very practical black runners. I turned around just in time to have a wicked handful of talons rake across my stomach, adding my own blood to the splatters already decorating the pavement.

“FUCK!” I screamed and punched the grinning Were in front of me right in the face. I felt his long jaws break as my fist connected, driving him back into the same lamp-post he had tangled with the first time. The abused piece of street lighting buckled as his massive body slammed into it, bending the metal pole like a banana.

I laid a hand over my wounded stomach, feeling the gashes the bastard had ripped into me already beginning to stitch themselves closed. I’d been lucky that his blow had been badly timed, only cutting the thick outer layer of fur and skin rather than tearing up my guts.

Still fucking hurt though and I was determined to make him pay for the injury. He was smiling at me from his broken jaw despite the pain he had to be feeling, the bones and teeth knitting and realigning as I stepped into range of my talons.

It was a sideways flick of his blood red eyes that saved me, looking for just a moment at something other than the big-ass golden Were about to tear him a new one. I ducked and lashed out with my right arm, catching the second male a raking blow across his thighs as he jumped me.

He had healed the injury I’d given him when he shifted, one of the advantages of our Were metabolisms. The downside was the huge amount of calories it burned, meaning he was going to want to fuel up real soon. Unfortunately for me, I was the closest meal available right then.

We went down together, lashing out at each other while we rolled across the pavement. He was strong, stronger than the red head but not as powerful as me. I got my hind legs under him as we tumbled and kicked him loose, sending the bastard flying over the parked cars that lined this side of the street.

His wolfish face registered surprise as I sent him on his way, perhaps wondering why a female Were was so much stronger than him. It all boiled down to one simple truth - your strength and size in human form had little to do with what you could achieve once you shifted. The bloodline of the Sire was what really mattered, the one who’d cursed you with the disease of lycanthropy.

My Sire had been a guy I’d known as Arken Laine, a major figure amongst the Were community, but I hadn’t known anything about that at the time. I thought he was some hot corporate type who had a thing for mannish women with decent tits and a firm ass.

Two years later and I still didn’t know why he turned me. When I finally caught up with the prick I planned to ask him. Then rip his throat out and dance on his grave. I was still undecided about what dance it would be, probably something with a lot of foot stamping and clapping, but I’d wait and see how the mood took me.

For now I was using the strength he had given me to take down every last Werewolf in Port August.

Redhead leaped at me, eyes blazing with berserk fury. When he shifted, his wolf pelt had come out as a lustrous amber, the kind of hair colour women would pay a fortune for. Most of the time, your natural human hair colour determined what your wolf fur would be, with maybe some shades from your Sire mixed in.

I was pure golden, my brunette tones washed away in the blonde glory of my Sire. Apparently that complete colour change was extremely rare and the technical geeks at the Agency thought it had some special significance.

It just made me stand out more and Redhead recognised me as soon as he got a good look. He body-slammed me back against some iron railings, his fetid breath hot and heavy in my face, jamming me onto the hard metal bars so I couldn’t use the strength in my legs to kick him away.

“The Golden Bitch herself” he whispered hoarsely in my elongated ear. “I’ve been hoping I might get a chance to have a taste of you”

He was pretty good at vocalising in wolf form, I had to give him credit for that. Someone had been practicing too it seemed.

I strained against his hold on me and he grinned wickedly, sliding a big red tongue around his fangs.

“You’re helpless against a big male, aren’t you honey?” he growled and I felt his manhood grinding against my thigh. I won’t deny my own body was starting to respond, as much as I hated myself for it.

“Not exactly” I replied and gave him a feral grin of my own. “I just needed you to stand still for more than a couple of seconds”

I could see the ‘Why?’ forming in his eyes in that moment before the fifty calibre bullet slammed into his left shoulder and flung him like a rag doll along the pavement. The muffled report from my Ranger’s sniping rifle reached me a fraction of a second later.

There was blood everywhere and chunks of gory fur too. Redhead’s left arm was hanging by a thin scrap of muscle to the rest of his body. The bullet had torn into the chest cavity and travelled out the other side, taking some very important organs with it.

For a human it was a fatal shot ten times over. For a Were, even a weak one like Redhead, it triggered a shift back to human form. It was the only way the creature could regenerate such massive trauma and blood loss, using the transformation to reknit the abused flesh and bone into something that could keep breathing.

He was going to be out of action for a while. One down, one to go.

I vaulted the line of cars and landed in the open street, scanning for the other guy. His scent was strong in my nostrils, meaning he had to be close, wary after he had felt my strength. I saw him break cover as he dashed towards a car parked on the opposite side of the street, his fur pitch black in the pale moonlight with a slash of silvery white at the throat.

Bastard was just as gorgeous in his Were form and my horny admiration of his physique is what nearly got me killed. He grabbed the car, a vanilla white Lexus, in two powerful arms and flung it at me like it was a baseball.

My feet moved of their own accord, my brain too busy ogling the impressive tackle of Pitch Black where the streetlights hinted at its magnitude. The front fender caught me on the shoulder as I turned away, pile-driving me into a second car and pinning me in place.

I screamed, a guttural roar of rage and frustration and tried to lever the bloody car off but I was stuck fast, one shoulder jammed into the wheel well and my legs kicking uselessly at thin air. There was nothing I could do but hurl abuse at Pitch Black as he stalked closer, his eyes flicking from me to the far end of the park.

He knew I had a partner waiting up there somewhere, looking for a clean shot.

“What’s the matter?” I taunted Pitch Black as I struggled to free my shoulder, nearly passing out from the agony that caused. “Scared of a helpless little old girl wolf?”

“You haven’t been helpless for a while, Golden Bitch” he growled to me, sinking onto his haunches about halfway across the street. He’d worked out that my partner’s firing position was obscured on that side, which meant Pitch Black wasn’t some newly turned Shifter. His vocalising was fairly clear too, another sign he had been a Were for some time.

Positioned as we were, I had an exceedingly good view of his junk. Colour me impressed. He noticed the direction of my gaze and gave me a wolfish grin.

“The stories about you are true it seems” he laughed mockingly then halted, cocking an ear to a distant sound. I’d noticed it too and hoped he was too busy laughing at my predicament to detect it. My luck was all kinds of fucked up tonight, that was a definite.

Pitch Black threw a glance towards the pavement where his partner Redhead was a slowly regenerating puddle of blood and guts. To get to him he’d have to cross the open side of the street and risk a bullet.

“We’ll call it a draw tonight, Golden Bitch” he declared and moved on all fours towards the shadows that lined his side of the street. “Better luck next time” he added in silky tones before vanishing from my sight.

I heard the Pound wagon roaring up from a side street and finally let myself go, surrendering to the pain of my busted shoulder and arm. If Pitch Black had come at me, he’d have killed me as easily as a dog kills a chicken.

Maybe my luck wasn’t as screwed up as I thought it was.

=====

I awoke to the sound of a tow truck hauling the Lexus off of me, an anxious voice calling me back from the dark places.

“Audrey! Can you hear me?”

It was a voice I knew.

I felt the heavy cold weight of my collar being refastened and for a panicked moment I tried to stop it being closed. To remain uncollared for just a few minutes longer. To be free.

“Stop it, Audrey!” the voice hissed at me in annoyance. “You have to complete the shift back to normal. Your shoulder is pretty bad and you need to regenerate”

“Don’t want to!” I slurred sulkily but it was already too late. I felt a pair of strong, albeit human, arms lift me from the tarmac and carry me towards the Pound wagon. My eyes were slits and I could feel the warmth from my Ranger’s arms against my naked butt and back as he slid me into the side door.

“Operative King collared at twelve fifty-two” Thomas declared in flat, clipped tones as he strapped me into a chair. He grabbed one of those silver foil blankets and tucked it around me, shielding my skin from the cold night air and the curious gaze of the driver and another Ranger.

“Copy that” I heard the reply from Randy Fucker over the comms unit. “Secure the Stray and get moving, Shaw. There’s a Police cruiser headed your way and Operations can’t stall them any longer”

“Yeah, yeah” Thomas responded abstractedly and I felt him clamber into the seat beside me, slamming the door shut once he was settled. His hip was a warm pressure against mine that the thin foil blanket did nothing to prevent. I leaned my head against his armoured shoulder, letting my eyes close fully, surrendering for a second time to the darkness.

I wasn’t home. I wasn’t safe. But right at that moment I felt like I had someone who would watch over me.