Chapter 1

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Rape, Drunk/Drugged, Heterosexual, Science Fiction, Extra Sensory Perception, Zoophilia, non-anthro, Rough, Gang Bang, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Enema, Pregnancy, Violent, .

Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Zoe loves to run. She is out running when confronted by a large rabid dog. "The Man" saves her and kills the dog. Then he howls like a wolf. Zoe is intrigued, but can also smell the fresh blood from the creature and is ready to rip hot blood filled meat from the kill when stopped by "the man". Follow Zoe as Gus feeds her buffalo meat and romances her through several situations, along with Tiger, his telepathic cat.

Characters appearing in the first two chapters are:

Zoe

She wolf, 5'-7" tall, 138 pounds, 38D-24-36, 24 years old, long auburn hair, hazel eyes, beautiful

Gus

Male wolf, blacksmith, 6'-3" tall, 240 pounds, 30 years old, light brown hair, gray eyes, muscular

Tiger

Female Cat, 18 pounds, her fur is a striped sandy red and white, and she has large head


My name is Zoe and I love to run. I love the exhilaration, my feet pounding the ground, my blood pumping and my lungs taking in large amounts of air. I love the wind blowing through my long hair. I even love the sweat. What I don't love is the sports bra that I have to wear to control my 38D breasts. Those breasts though were a part of what make me so attractive to men.

I had been running for about forty minutes on this bright, sunny, but not too warm Saturday morning in September. I had chosen to run through this particular subdivision because it's just off of my regular route, and I had never run in here before.

I was gliding along at a five and a half minute a mile pace, when I was startled by a large, savage looking dog that leaped out of the shrubbery along the side of the road to confront me. I skidded to a stop four yards from it and dropped into a crouch to lower my center of gravity. At 5'-7" tall and 138 pounds, I knew that I had my work cut out for me, facing this large a dog that must weigh over a hundred pounds. He snarled and barked at me while saliva dripped from his jaws.

I had screamed in surprise when first confronted, but now closed my hands into a fist so that my four, two- inch long claws could project from the top knuckles of each of my closed fists. I threw back my head and howled, while I sent out a telepathic blast that would scare most dogs in the area into hiding for hours at least, and followed this with a vocal snarl of my own.

None of this appeared to have any effect on the creature confronting me. It drop into a crouch also, as it prepared to spring. I braced myself for the shock and impact that I knew was only seconds away. Just as the creature started forward, "The Man" appeared beside me. Initially, I was only aware of a large shape beside me with something protruding in front of it.

The creature rushed forward and sprang into the air, so that it could tear out the throat of its victim. The object that "The Man" held seemed to leap up and jump forward to intercept the creature in midair. The creature impaled itself on the object and then both creature and object headed toward the ground where they landed with a thud.

"The Man" stepped forward bringing his end the object up and turning the creature with it. I could see that the object was buried deep in the creatures chest. "The Man" stepped forward and planted a large, heavy, leather booted foot on the creature's body. He heaved the object up from the creature's chest and then with a swift thrust plunged it back into the body again, piercing the heart. All life went out of the creature and blood ran from both wounds as "The Man" removed the object from the creature's body. All of this had taken less than ten seconds. Much less time than it took to tell about it.

I could now clearly see that the object was a boar spear. The broad 10" long, 2" wide head had a thick steel bar across the back end to limit penetration. The six foot steel shaft was a good inch thick and decorated in places. It was a fearsome heavy weapon, and took a powerful man to wield it as this one had with so little apparent trouble. He thrust the sharp point into the soft ground at the edge of the road, stood up straight, threw out his chest, threw back his head, and howled, "AAA ROOO".

I drew back in fear and had goose bumps all up and down my arms and legs. This was no normal man. No, this was a pack leader and I instinctively recognized him as possibly my mate to be. My entire body quivered and lust ran through me for a time.

But now I could smell the creature's blood and an instinct as ancient as lust and sex took its place as saliva filled my mouth and the desire for hot, blood filled meat consumed me. My hands were still clenched into fists and my claws were extended. I drew back an arm ready to strike and rip fresh, hot meat from the kill when I was stopped in my tracks by a booming voice.

"NO," the man shouted, "not that. You don't know what disease or other problems it may have had. Come with me. We have a little time before the police arrive, and I have something much better for you to eat." He led the way then, across the lawn to a building on the side of the house there. As we entered the building, it was obvious that it was a shop - a blacksmith shop. There were two large anvils and several smaller ones. There was the forge with a roaring fire in it, and on the walls and in racks scattered about were the numerous and varied tools that a blacksmith requires.

"The Man" threw a switch and the electric blower stopped supplying air to the forge fire. The fire still glowed white and angry but was now quiet. The man raked coal from the sides of the fire into the center and patted it down. He then placed new coal around the perimeter of the fire from a bucket. Taking a can with holes in the bottom on a long handle, he dipped it in the large water barrel at the side of the forge and sprinkled water on the fresh coal. All of this appeared to be an automatic operation on his part for he continued to smile at me the entire time.

"It will only be a few seconds," he assured me. "I need to keep the fire supplied." He then went to the wall and removed a piece of metal with up turned edges. It was about two feet long and a foot and a-half wide. He placed it over the fire and then reached out and moved a piece of metal on the air pipe leading to the forge.

"I need to switch to the bellows," he explained as he reached out again and began pulling on a rope hanging down from the rafters. Looking up, I saw a huge four-foot wide bellows sitting up in the rafters. As I watched, the bellows opened and closed several times sending air into the fire, which had resumed its red glow and was headed toward a yellow and eventually a white heat.

My eyes followed the rope down again to his large hand. Then there was the thick wrist and the muscular forearm. Above this were the bulging muscles of his upper arm and then the massive shoulders. It was apparent that this was a man used to hard work and exertion.

"My name is Gustav, but everyone calls me Gus," he said as he pumped the bellows. He is a tall man, at least 6'-3" tall and weighing at least 240 pounds from his build. He has brown hair and gray eyes. They were eyes that didn't flinch when I returned his stare but only seemed to smile.

"My name is Zoe," I said, when I found my voice. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Preparing a snack," he answered and then checking the fire, he released the rope to the bellows.

"Follow me," he said. It was not a request. From the way that he said it, it was a command and not to be ignored.

We went across the shop, along a porch, and through a door to the house proper where we entered the kitchen. It was large and open to the rest of the house, which was not as tidy as I would have kept it, but was never-the-less not a total mess either. I could see weapons hanging on the walls. There were a number of different types of swords. There was a rack with various types of spears and other pole arms, and over the fireplace hung two things. One was a double bit ax with long curving blades and the other was a large, heavy looking rifle.

My attention was drawn back to the kitchen as Gus opened the door of a very large industrial looking side by side refrigerator. He removed a covered pan and shut the door.

"You can look at the house later," he said as he headed out of the kitchen and back to the shop with the covered pan.

Back at the forge, he sat the pan down and resumed pulling on the bellows rope for a few minutes. Then he reached over to a shelf and removed a dirty looking glass bottle, opened it and poured some of the contents on to the hot piece of metal there. I realized then that it was some kind of homemade pan of thick metal.

"Olive oil," he said as he replaced the bottle. He then opened the covered pan to reveal the large chunk of meat inside. There was also blood on the bottom of the pan. He reached in and picked up the piece of meat, which must have weighed twelve pounds judging from its size, and dropped it on the pan over the fire. It immediately started to sizzle when it hit the hot pan. Then he took the other pan, that the meat had been in, and poured the remaining blood over the top of the meat.

The smells overloaded my senses. There was the meat sizzling, and the blood and olive oil mixed together. My mouth dripped saliva and my fangs, which had come out for the fight clashed together. I was ready to attack anything that got between of me and that meat. Gus merely smiled.

"Give it a little time, yet," he said.

How could he wait? The smell was overpowering and to kill for. Did he have the patience of Job or what, I wondered?

"Soon, my little Zoe, we'll have a meal fit for a wolf," he assured me.

He produced a large, heavy-duty, two prong fork, stabbed it into the chunk of meat and turned it over with a flip of his powerful wrist. This I knew required considerable strength, for as I had said before, this was at least twelve pounds of raw meat. I noticed that some of the meat stuck to the pan when he turned it. Also, all of the blood from the top of the meat splattered down on the pan and renewed the smell of hot blood and olive oil mixed with that of the natural juice from the meat.

I was ready to pounce. How could this man wait? The smell was driving me crazy!

"Only another minute or two, my Sweet," he assured me as he went over to another shelf and withdrew a large wooden platter. He returned to the forge and using the large fork, he lifted the edge of the meat to judge its condition. Shortly, he seemed satisfied and again stabbed the fork into the meat and lifted it off of the pan and deposited it on the wooden platter in his other hand.

My gaze was still on the pan over the fire. The smell of hot blood was still almost overpowering. Obviously, he knew where my gaze was, for he reminded me about the pan.

"That pan is very hot. If you try to get the blood left there now you will burn your mouth. Later, when it cools, we will clean it up using slices of French bread. There is nothing quite like blood soaked French bread, but that's for later. For now there is the meat."

I followed him back to the house, like a puppy follows its master. He placed the platter on a small table with two chairs. Then he handed me what looked like a fancy piece of finished wood. I could see several pieces of metal embedded in it.

We sat down, and he pulled out the ends of his piece of wood to reveal a large heavy knife and an equally hefty fork. He stabbed the fork into the meat, cut off a chunk, and popped it into his mouth. I quickly followed suit, fearing being left out.

I stabbed the fork into one end of the meat, cut off a chunk, and popped it into my mouth. The meat was fantastic! It was divine! It was hot, juicy, and still contained blood. It was charred on the outside, but still red in the middle. The flavor was amazing, and I now knew why he had waited so long while it heated.

We finished all of the meat. I can't say that we ate it. We consumed it in large chunks and only chewed it sufficiently to get it down our ravenous throats. I'm sure that I got at least five pounds of that meat, and Gus let me lick the platter clean of the juices there. By the time I was finishing up, we heard the siren of a police car approaching.

"Time to go outside again, my Sweet," Gus said.

"What will I tell them?" I asked, in fright.

"Tell them the truth. That is always best. It will astonish some and amaze others. It's the easiest thing to remember, also. Just tell them that you were out running. That was what you were doing, wasn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, I was running when that creature jumped out at me," I told him.

"Tell the sheriff that," he said. "I'll tell him that I heard you scream and rushed out to see what the problem was. I happened to be working on the spear at the time and just carried it along. Simple."

We went back out to the road, arriving just as the sheriff's car pulled up. There were several neighbors gathered there looking at the body of the creature. The deputy, who got out, was also a large man but was not built like Gus. The deputy was flabby.

"Morning, Gus," he said as he came around the car. "What happened here?"

"Morning, Phil," Gus said. It was obvious that he knew the deputy. "This lady was out running. I heard her scream and came out to see what the problem was. I got here just as the dog sprang at her. I was working on this spear at the time and just carried it out with me. I was just in time to catch the dog in mid-air with the spear," Gus told the deputy.

"Damn," the deputy said, "this is the third dog attack this week, and he sure looks like the description give by the others that were attacked, too. The doctors and vets suspect rabies. I guess they'll be able to check the carcass for that." Then turning to me, he asked, "Are you sure that he didn't bite you or scratch you? If he did you could have rabies, too."

"No, Gus stopped him before he got to me. He scared the living daylights out of me though," I said and sobbed for effect. These men were so easy to fool!

"All right," Deputy Phil said, "I'll need your name and address for the report. I already know your's Gus. I'll get the animal control people out here and have the carcass checked by the vets for rabies." I gave him my name and address.

"Do you need a ride home," he asked me next, obviously interested in me.

"No," I told him, "Gus has already offered to take me home. Thank you, Deputy."

"All right, ma'am," he said. Then, "I'll see you later, Gus," and we were dismissed as he started to talk into his radio to finish up the investigation.

Gus and I returned to the shop. By now the fire in the forge had burned down considerably. Gus removed the pan from the forge with two large pairs of tongs and sat it on one of the large anvils to cool further.

"That's still pretty hot," he warned me. "Go in the kitchen. You'll find several loves of French bread in the refrigerator. Cut one into slices about an inch thick with the serrated bread knife on the counter and bring them out on a large plate. I'll rebuild my fire, and we can eat when the pan is cool enough. That anvil will pull the heat out of it rather quickly."

I returned to the kitchen and did as he requested. Well, ordered, but I would rather think of it as a request from an equal. I soon returned to the shop with the bread. Gus was still playing with the forge fire.

"Oh hell," Gus finally said, "Why do I think I am going to do anymore work today?" Then he turned and looked at me.

"Zoe, will you stay for a while?" he asked.

"My run," I started, "I haven't... !!"

"Do you really think that you'll be able to run after all of the meat that you consumed?" he wanted to know.

"I... !!" I started, but stopped to examine the full feeling in my stomach. By my own estimate, I had consumed five pounds of meat and rather swiftly. This didn't include the grease, blood and olive oil on the platter. I was so full that I could barely walk. Who was I kidding? I wasn't going to do any running for a while. Not only that, what about my diet? This just shot my diet all to hell-and-gone. I wouldn't be able to eat for a week! I'd probably gain ten pounds and look like a blimp to boot! I started to moan.

"No," I finally admitted, "I won't be able to run. I can hardly walk and I'm soo full! Why did you let me do that?" I demanded.

"I," he asked, incredulously, "I let you do that? I had to practically drag you away from the table. And that was after the meat was heated. You were ready to eat it before I even got it on the fire," he finished, in disgust.

"I'm sorry," I admitted. "It wasn't your fault. I just couldn't control myself. Oh God, what have I gotten into?"

"Don't worry, my Sweet," he said. "Stay here a while. Help me finish the pan, and I'll take you home later."

I turned toward the pan and sniffed. Oh Lord, I could still smell it, and it smelled delicious. I held up the plate of bread that I still carried and we gathered around the pan that was sitting on the anvil.

"Put the plate on the swing out tool carrier," Gus told me, as he brushed the tools off of it and onto the shop floor, which was lightly covered with sand.

Gus took a piece of the bread and wiped it through the cooling mixture on the pan. It absorbed what it was able to and he popped it into his mouth. I tried it next. It was delicious! The taste of blood mixed with the olive oil and the juices from the meat was just fantastic! I hardly noticed the bread, as it was just a carrier. The mixture could stand a little seasoning I thought, maybe some Rosemary. It grows wild and is easy to obtain. It would also go well with the meat.

While I was doing all of this thinking, Gus had gotten two slices of bread ahead of me. I grabbed another piece of the bread as he got up to get something. He returned in a minute with a small putty knife and started scraping the stuck meat loose in the pan. I managed to catch up to him while he was thus distracted. Then I had to stop. I just couldn't eat another bite. I would throw up if I ate one more piece of bread, but God, it smelled so good!! My fingers trembled as I reached for a piece of the loosened meat. I brought it up to my mouth, but I just couldn't finish it. I was ready to cry.

"I just can't eat another bite," I finally admitted.

"I know," he admitted as well. "I'm stuffed too. The next time I'll use a smaller piece of meat or we can spread it out over two days or so." He was still scraping the pan as he said this.

"What are you going to do with the pan," I asked.

"Oh, Tiger will finish up what we leave," he assured me.

"You have a dog?" I asked, shocked.

"What? NO! No, Tiger is a cat. She's very independent, but I'm sure she'll be back soon. The smell of that meat is all over the neighborhood by now. She'll recognize the smell for sure. No one else around here cooks buffalo. I'm the only one that has that, and she loves it too. She'll probably be put out that we finished all of it, but she'll finish up what's in the pan. I'll just set it on the ground here."

"Would you like to see my house?" he asked next.

Before I could answer, there was a knock on the door frame and Phil, the deputy sheriff, was standing there.

"I'm done with the spear, Gus," he said, then added, "How much does this thing weigh?"

"It weighs in at twenty one pounds, Phil. The head weighs two and a half pounds and the shaft is about eighteen and a half pounds. It took me a while to forge it, too," Gus told him.

"Yes, I guess it would from all of the work I can see and going from square to round and then back a couple of times," Phil said.

"Yes, those transitions make good holding points as well as being decorative. It took me a while to figure out the right locations for them." Gus told him.

"It would wear me out just carrying it around," Phil said. "Wouldn't wood be lighter?"

"Lighter ... yes. But the steel shaft won't break. Wood, even ash or hickory, will break. Would you want to face a pissed-off 600 pound boar with a spear that might break when you get him on the other end of it?" Gus asked, in all seriousness.

"I wouldn't want to get a 600 pound boar on anything but a spit over a fire," Phil said, and shuttered. "How much does a thing like this go for, just out of curiosity?"

"That one is a thousand dollars, and is already spoken for," Gus told him. "It just needs a little more sharpening to finish it up."

"It certainly did a job on that dog," Phil said. "You were certainly lucky to have it with you when you went out there."

"A boar has a much tougher hide, Phil," Gus assured him.

"If you say so, Gus. I don't want to ever have to find out. I'll wait out front for the Animal Control people. See you later, Gus. Ma'am," Phil said as he left. Gus was twirling the spear in his hand like a baton.

"Were you serious?" I asked, amazed. "Is that thing really a thousand dollars?"

"Yes, it definitely would be IF I were selling it, but it's mine. I put a lot of extra work into it and it performed just as I knew it would today. It does need a little more sharpening though."

"Are you going after a 600 pound boar?" I asked, as my heart rate increased at the thought.

"No," he answered, "the wild pigs around here don't usually go over about 300 pounds, but they are still nasty buggers. But I don't like pork that much. I prefer buffalo myself," he said as he placed the spear in a rack along with several others that weren't finished yet.

"Shall we go in the house?" he asked. We went back across the porch and into the house. Now that I was full, and the blood lust was gone, I took more time to examine the house. The living room, dining room and kitchen / breakfast room were one large open space with only some low walls or furniture to act as dividers of the space. There were stairs along one wall leading to a partial second story. There were also two doors leading to other rooms on the first floor, along with the front door. There wasn't a ceiling in the conventional sense. You could see the exposed rafters high above the floor, and there was a finished layer of rood under the roofing.

There was a large stone fireplace in the living room. It was the kind that they cooked in long ago. There were also a long sofa, a love seat, a stuffed chair and the usual end tables. There were bookcases along one wall that were nearly full, and there was a large TV and a music system. Also on the walls were the weapons that I had noticed earlier. There was a table and chairs in the dining area along with a buffet.

"Did you make all of these?" I asked, in wonder as I pointed at the weapons on the walls.

"Most of them," Gus replied. "The Long Sword, the Claymore, is an original. It set me back quite a bit. The rifle is a reproduction Sharps 74 buffalo rifle. I used it to collect the buffalo meat that we had earlier."

"You shot it?!" I asked, in wonder.

"Yes, you don't attack a 2000 pound buffalo with your claws or a spear. I hit it in the lungs from 125 yards and knocked it down. It soon expired." he told me.

"Two thousand pounds?" I asked, "how long does that last?"

"Well, part of that is the hide and the bones. Also there are the internal organs. It's still a lot of meat."

"Don't they see you and run off?" I wanted to know.

"No, bison don't have the best eyesight in the world. Besides you sneak up on them. They do have a pretty good sense of smell. The hunt was on a ranch where they are raised for meat, but it's still quite a job. The last time, after I got my animal, one of the other bulls went wild and charged another hunting party. The guy was apparently too frightened or was too stunned to shoot the charging animal.

"I had reloaded the Sharps out of habit, and we were on our way to join the other party, as we needed to wait for them to finish before we brought in the truck to take care of packing both animals out to get them butchered. My guide and I both saw the bull start to charge. He screamed "Shoot it" at me and I did. I brought the Sharps up, cocking the hammer on the way, shouldered it, lined up on the target, swung just ahead of it and touched it off.

"That bull dropped and skidded to within twenty feet of the other hunting party. Their guide finished it off with his 44-magnum pistol. The rest of the guides refused to take the guy out again. He was a big old boy with a big old rifle, but no guts. He lost his animal tag for not shooting and I got both animals. My rental freezer truck was really loaded down when I returned home. I also got both hides and brain tanned then when I got home," Gus finished with a smile.

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