Moon Phases

by Robin

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fiction, Zoophilia, Furry, non-anthro, Transformation, .

Desc: Sex Story: Jack is turned on the beach at a party. His life from then on becomes punctuated every 27 days when he metamorphasises into a werewolf.

Moon phases.

Six months earlier.

It was at a beach party that Jack was turned. Someone, an acquaintance, invited him and a few bottles, to the dunes on the South Kentish Sea front near Dungeness.

As usual, he drank a bit too much, but he was sure afterwards, that his drink was spiked. Certainly, he had a metallic taste in his mouth the next morning and a monumental headache, the like he had never experienced before. He was also quite photosensitive to the point of almost being blinded by the sunlight.

He was alone and all that remained of the previous night’s party were a few dying embers in the fire, and a few beer bottles and cans scattered around. The sea was an impossible distance away, having receded in tidal action. Littlestone is a shallow section of the shore, all sand and the sea pulls back by up to a mile in places before rushing back on the return tide. The foreshore though, is untouched by the modern demand for entertainment and retains its wild untended desolation, as nature built it over millennia.

He rolled over, trying to find some shelter from the sunlight that seemed to be burning into his brain like a laser. A new pain announced its presence.

Christ, he thought, what the fuck did she do to me? I dim recollection of his previous nights excesses came to him. He couldn’t see the wound but his tentative touches revealed a large bite or something on the side of his neck just above where it joins the shoulder. It hurt like hell and now that he was aware of it, also burned as fiercely as the sun.

Somehow, Jack found some shelter, cowering beside a tall marsh-grass covered dune. The sea breeze whipped the sand up which felt like little knives as it hit him, but at least, he was shaded from the merciless sun. He managed to sleep for a few hours, curled in the foetal position.

The day progressed through the afternoon. The sun lowered and the sea returned in its rush to scour the exposed sand. Jack woke, feeling parched and his stomach gurgled its emptiness.

He opened his eyes gingerly as if to test the quality of light and how much pain it would induce. Gradually, they focused on a bright red pair of plastic sandals that were occupied by a pair of dirty bare feet.

The child, standing a scant few feet away, regarded him intently, not moving or saying anything as her subject uncoiled and groaned awake.

Jack’s senses coalesced into cognitive order. After his visual appraisal of the young child who so studiously observed him, he became aware of her smell. He couldn’t put a name to it, but somehow, it smelled wholesome. Yes, wholesome was a good description of her smell.

He heard her blood pulsing through her veins. The sound, when he realised what it was, both frightened him and excited his senses, provoking a momentary and inexplicable hunger.

She turned and imperiously walked away, leaving him feeling desperately lonely suddenly. He watched her go, thinking to call her back, but he didn’t, he was still trying to understand how he could have heard her blood and sensed her smell so vividly

He got up from his laying position and tried to stand, but a wave of dizziness and nausea overcame him and he sat back down with a thud. The depression in the soft sand where he had lain for the day, made an uncomfortable ridge that jarred his ribs as he almost fell. He stayed in his relatively safe place until dusk.

Soundlessly, she approached him, coming from down wind and only letting him know she was there when she was close enough to have attacked him before he would have had a chance to protect himself. It was her voice that announced her presence.

“So your alive then.” Her clothes looked to be rags, but were in fact, a dress made up of strips of printed cloth. White hair fell to below shoulder length and an almost translucent face framed pitch black eyes.

He recognised her from the previous night and then remembered the wild sex they had enjoyed until it all became too weird. Her smell intrigued him and arose a heightened awareness of his sexual arousal, made all the more obvious by his stiffening cock. He realised for the first time that he was naked, not even his socks were around.

The sun had sunk now and dark was dropping like a final curtain on the day, but it was light enough for him to see her transformation. She dropped to her knees and her face stretched and elongated into a snout, her body changes were mostly covered by her dress, but he could see well enough, the altered outline of her silver coloured furry body.

His own transformation took no less time. It seemed to him, that one second he was a man and the next, he had changed into a wolf, complete with black fur and a mouth full of teeth. An inconsequential thing struck him the hardest. Colour went from his visual understanding; everything took on an aspect of grey, black or white. Strangely, he mourned this loss more than anything else.

He should have been frightened by the change. Should have been a mess of confusion, but somehow, the transformation from Human to Lupine seemed a perfectly natural progression.

She stepped out of the dress and crossed the few feet between them. Her brush against him produced a thrill that coursed through his body, producing a shiver of pleasure.

His nose told him she was in oestrous and ready to mate. He would have to impress her in some way to gain her favour. He needn’t have worried because her overtures towards him left no room for doubt. She licked his jowls and came to him in supplication, her tail down and crouching. She licked his mouth again and then spun, buffeting him playfully with her haunches. She lowered her head and licked his sheath with a long lash of her tongue. There was very little nuance about her next action, she turned once more and presented her rear to his nose for inspection.

He couldn’t help but take in her scent, breathing it deeply so that it passed over his olfactory sense glands and triggered the mating ritual. He licked her centre and then again, making her wet with his saliva. Her vulva pouted at his touch and she whined her readiness for him.

With no further preamble, he mounted her, his cock already prodding through its sheath and questing for her sex. It took a few attempts, but once they had shifted into a position where he was perfectly aligned, he forcible shoved forward while locking his forepaws around her haunches and pulling her into him. Once inside, he started a furious pace of fucking her. It lasted for quite some time and soon, his tongue lolled from the side of his mouth with the effort.

Instinct took over and very soon he was pummelling her sex with his massive cock, scrabbling his hind legs in an effort to get deeply embedded within her body. Her tail got in the way once or twice and was a distraction, but only until his body was entirely supported on her rump, his legs off the ground and his knot passed into her. His thrusting stopped as she locked her muscles around his bulbous knot. It swelled from the massage her body gave it and then he began his release. His seed pumped in long streams while she milked him with convulsions of her muscles until he was totally dry.

He signalled his completion by trying to dismount. The pain was almost unbearable and in a desperate attempt, he managed to twist and stand rear to rear as her sex gripped him in a vice-like embrace that continued to pulsate and milk every last drop from him. Feeling like he would never be released, he tried to pull out of her and away, but her muscles had totally enclosed him and would not let go.

Eventually, after ten minutes that seemed like hours, she relaxed her grip on him and they parted. She spun on him and nipped his shoulder. It was then that he noticed several pairs of eyes reflecting what luminescent light there was, silently staring from the surrounding dunes. They had also approached noiselessly from downwind.

Then, in a melee of furry bodies, they greeted him and her, rolling over in supplication and whining their joy at the addition and their successful mating. All except one joined in, in the confusing dance. She stood separate, observing them with a cool dispassionate stare.

His mate yipped once and began to slope off along the beach. The pack, for that is what it was, followed silently. Not knowing what else to do, he followed and shortly was running in an easy ground covering gait alongside the silver wolf, who was now carrying his cubs.

They travelled for some time, angling away from the sea and over a tarmac road towards the restaurant at the end of the miniature railway that ran from Hythe to Dymchurch through Romney. The stink of oil and human made him want to gag, but fortunately, it passed by quickly as their ground covering pace left it behind.

They were heading towards a row of houses set back and away from the road. Only shingle and gorse was between them and the brightly lit houses. She slowed her pace and became more cautious, smelling the air as she went.

A door opened to one of the houses, flooding light across the shingle, a figure was briefly silhouetted in the frame. It turned back briefly to shout something back into the house and then the door was pulled shut and the figure started to walk towards the gate, set in a wooden fence...

She crouched behind a gorse bush and watched to see what would happen. The rest of the pack fanned out and crouched behind her, finding what cover they could.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Fiction / Zoophilia / Furry / non-anthro / Transformation /