Chapter 1

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Consensual, NonConsensual, Heterosexual, Science Fiction, non-anthro, Gang Bang, First, Oral Sex, Bestiality, Violent, Transformation, .

Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Perra was the pampered daughter. Damien was just the "help" - but he was the only one she felt really understood her. When his inappropriate behaviour was discovered he was sent away and what else could she do but follow. Alone in a strange city she was prey for evil men - but, with her powers, naive didn't mean easy. Note : 'beast' is present in the codes for completeness but give the story a chance - we aren't talking 'Horny housewife meets Lassie'.

A story from the dawn of the XXX Mutant era, before Homo Sapiens really appreciated its replacement had arrived.


Teenagers!

Perra's mother no longer understood what motivated her daughter. They just didn't seem to speak the same language any more.

Skula, regal matriarch and ultra-sensitive to societal mores, did not like the young man her daughter was showing such an interest in. He had been working for the Lukos family for a couple of years now and Skula was adamant her daughter was NOT going to get involved with the "help".

It just wasn't done!


Perra of course saw things differently.

Where the older generation and, indeed to be completely honest, her siblings saw the world only in terms of black and white, Perra had found an inexpressible joy in a world filled with colour -- warm reds and oranges; cool relaxing blues and greens; vibrant hues in an apparently infinite range of shades.

It was Damien who provided this refreshing access to the world outside the stifling confines of her home. Actually he was the only access she had.

In fact it was not an exaggeration to say that, without his influence, she would not be the person she was.


Damien had been employed to care for the animals in a private zoo, an expensive foible of an eccentric businessman who could afford the macho thrill of being able to tell of his collection of carnivores. Damien had yet to see him do more than occasionally walk past or over the enclosures with a few others in tow.

He didn't know how his boss had managed to get some of the rarer specimens -- virtually all carnivores were threatened if not actually endangered -- and he certainly had assembled a divers collection.

Damien's favourites were the canine types -- the coyotes, wolves, dingoes, jackals and foxes (though he could take or leave the hyenas) -- and some of the ursine specimens -- bears from Canada, Russia, China and Indo-china.

He had mixed feelings about the assortment of felines; he had never been a cat person and the beauty of their smooth powerful musculature couldn't make up for their tendency to snarl whenever he went near.

He was professional enough not to let that affect the treatment he afforded the tigers, lynxes, leopards, cougars, cheetahs, jaguars and slightly moth-eaten lions.

But ... he didn't talk to them, he didn't make friends with any of them, they didn't respond eagerly when he came round unless it was feeding time.

It was the way that he treated the animals that attracted Perra (she didn't care much for the cats either -- their enclosures stunk!). Or more to the point the fact that he spoke to her with the same easygoing friendliness that no-one else ever used.

The other servants on the estate would barely acknowledge her. Perra thought they were too afraid of her parents to get close enough to make friends; she couldn't blame them -- she was afraid of them as well, or rather of the way they always seemed to find fault with her lately.

Whenever she could join him Perra listened carefully as Damien explained what he was doing. He probably shouldn't have encouraged her but she was eager to be with him and, making sure his boss never found out, he didn't mind her wandering around helping him.

It should have occurred to him that she was forming an attachment to him -- he was the only person she really spent time with after all. He certainly didn't think of the consequences if it should continue, nor if, as was inevitable, they were discovered together.


Perra was inconsolable. Damien hadn't been sacked, instead he had been given an opportunity to resign. Oh, he got adequate severance pay and even more than adequate references under the circumstances but his wishes, and Perra's, were not considered.

He was gone! The presence she had known all her life, her mentor, her only friend -- Gone!

All her life? A couple of years? Not unreasonable since a wolf grows much faster than a human.

But Perra wasn't just a wolf.

The mutations that were affecting humans had not left the rest of the animal kingdom untouched though the differences in brain structure meant the effects were less significant -- generally.

Perra wasn't the only animal to become more intelligent but that wasn't enough in most cases. For many, the distraction of higher thought processes tended to cause them either to make dangerous forays or to pause when they should be taking evasive action. It was a case of curiosity killing the smart cat and the early bird catching the contemplative worm.

A child needs their language centres stimulated in the right way at the right time if they are to develop the ability to use speech. No matter how intelligent the animal, if it is surrounded only by literally dumb companions it will never reach that extra level.

Perra fortunately had a talkative Damien around throughout that time and could eventually clearly understand him; she tried her hardest to answer with a throat not designed for the subtleties of human speech. The attempt, though unsuccessful and misinterpreted by the keeper, built the appropriate -- and necessary -- neural pathways.

It messed up her relationships with the other wolves though. Perra could still converse with them, messages even more complex in their own special way, but when she tried to use human concepts she only confused them; a confusion that turned to the special hostility reserved for one who betrayed their heritage.

Perra didn't know why Damien had been replaced. She simply knew that his duties were being performed by someone else -- someone who would not acknowledge her let alone release her so she could keep him company as he worked.

Perra found herself restricted to the area by the gate of the wolf enclosure -- a sculptured sunken area the size of several large suburban house blocks with aerial walkways and viewing platforms. She was isolated from her friend on one side of the fence and targeted by her former pack on the other.

At least in the narrow walkway she could limit any hostile attacks to a face-to-face confrontation with one wolf at a time.

It couldn't last though. She would have to leave her shelter to get food or water, or even just to escape the stench of her excrement. They however could take turns watching for a momentary advantage.

Escape! If only. She would be able to search for Damien.

Perra had watched how he opened the gate. She knew she would be able to do it if only she had hands instead of paws. Perhaps she could still manage it. She was irrationally optimistic without ever having seen an episode of Lassie. At least she would be no worse off if she failed.

There were ominous noises from out in the compound. Perhaps she would be worse off. She turned back to the gate in desperation.

The catch was easy enough to reach through the narrow armhole but Perra couldn't quite seize the knob to turn it. The noises became more noticeable. They were understandable at a gut level even though she had never heard them expressed before. They meant trouble.

Perra tried again with increasing desperation. If she didn't get it this time she would have to turn before they came upon her. The attack would be vicious; there would be no acceptance of an exposed belly designating complete surrender -- she was now prey.

Her paw was turning the knob; Perra leaned against the gate so her weight would swing it open as soon as the catch was released; she couldn't risk it slipping shut again -- there wouldn't be another attempt.

The mesh fell away from her and she collapsed onto the path as the spring closure swung the gate shut again, just as her brother crashed snarling into it.

He was confused. He could smell Perra. He could smell the fear scent that had driven him to attack. But the person lying on the concrete was hairless. It was one of THEM regardless of the strong impression of his hated sister.

His tail swept angrily as he turned away. He might not have been "privileged" to have had his intelligence increased like his sister but he knew he would not be able to get through the gate. Regardless of where his sister was, he knew she wasn't here, and that was good enough for now. If she returned they would have their reckoning then; she was no longer part of the pack.


Perra shivered, unaccustomedly cool as she lay on her side. She turned her head to nip her shoulder where she felt the biting insect and realised with a shock that she couldn't reach it and that her normal warm coat of fur was missing.

She stood up; that didn't feel right either, her paws were strange, human appendages on the end of human limbs. It meant her normal four-footed stance left her bare tailless buttocks poised high above her. Her buttocks were different too, far more muscular, designed for an upright stance rather than for quadruped travel.

Perra stood on her hind legs. "No", she thought, "my only legs!"

She looked at her forepaws, the long delicate fingers were a contrast to the normal toes; the fine nails far less useful than her robust claws. But at least she had the opposable thumbs that had allowed her to open the latch when she had needed it.

She had to hold onto the fence to steady herself. She wasn't used to standing this way.

"Oh! What's happened to me?"

Her voice was eerily distorted to her ears. She had said the words; she could understand her own speech though she doubted others would have been able to. Perra had the physical means to make the right noises and a mind that could send the right signals but she hadn't the practise to make them come out clearly -- yet.

Perra realised the question that was most important was not what had happened but what would happen to her.


After easily opening the remaining gates Perra had carefully headed out of the enclosures, keeping to the shadows. She knew the way to what had been Damien's quarters, having travelled that far on her penultimate excursion with him; she held out no hope that he would be there. It had been too long.

Her damned nose wasn't working properly though and her hearing was far less sensitive. She made up for the loss by being extra careful as she snuck along.

The new keeper was out. Provided the animals had been fed, watered and mucked out there was no reason for him not to have his evenings free.

Perra knew she would have to wear the coverings the other humans wore; without her fur she would freeze, perhaps not literally though she did have goose bumps already, and she was sure they would take more notice of her if she was naked.

With the small house located inside one of the most secure estates in the country, there was little by way of additional measures to stop intruders gaining access to Damien's former quarters. Had the new keeper bothered to turn on his alarm system Perra's entry would have been noticed but since he was only visiting with some of the other resident staff he hadn't bothered.

The cupboards and drawers were not dissimilar to the bins Perra had observed Damien opening. The outer clothing was recognisable but she had never seen Damien in other than his white overalls and what she found stowed away made little sense. She searched through the house looking for something she could understand and finally found it in a pile of laundry returned to the house but not yet put away.

It took some time, and a few tears of frustration, and even a curse that Damien would have been embarrassed about had he known that he had taught it to her.

Finally all her limbs were in the appropriate holes and she had managed to close the front. It was fortunate the buttons and press studs had been replaced with Velcro else she would have displayed a most unusual plunging neckline.

In almost every way Perra would pass for a human female in her mid to late teens. True, her short hair and eyes were both unusual colours, and there was just a hint of a hairy tuft behind the merest point at the top of each ear but the first just enhanced her mysterious beauty and the second could easily be overlooked.

But ... whereas any other young lady might be expected to have prominent mounds across her chest, Perra had eight -- all double A, maybe less; though she certainly had no knowledge of breast sizes, she was aware that the lumps were more prominent in her new form. Under the baggy overalls the repeated ripples were disguised; Perra could even pass for a male worker if her face was hidden. Certainly no-one would associate her with a missing she-wolf.

Footwear was more of a problem. Firstly there was nothing small enough for her feet and secondly she had no experience of laces or buckles.

What she did recognise were the black rubber Wellingtons, filth encrusted from the day's earlier cleanup. They would flop around making bipedal movement more difficult for the novice but they would at least protect the soft pads -- No, the soles -- of her feet.

Perra left the house to try and find Damien.


The scent receptors in the human nose cover an insignificant area when compared to those of a hunting animal such as a bloodhound -- or a wolf.

While Perra in human form suffered a drastic loss of ability compared to her lupine state, she still could sense far smaller traces than others born to that shape. It took a while for her to appreciate what she still had rather than regretting her losses but eventually she came across a significant scent of her beloved Damien.

She had been quartering the estate, being missed on three occasions by complacent security staff more interested in the absence of "visitors", welcome or not, outside the grounds than in differentiating between those already inside the gates. Had the senior staff been present matters may have turned out differently.

Damien had been given transport away from the estate, leaving from the servant's entrance of course. Traces of his scent, mingled with a mixture from each of those who had said goodbye, could be found by the drive.

It took a while for Perra to recognise the metallic-rubber-hydrocarbon mix as one of the vehicles people sometimes travelled in. She couldn't scent Damien but the automobile's spoor was much stronger.

Perra followed it down the drive.

Guarded areas tend to be designed with their strengths concentrated in one direction; you are either stopping people from getting in or from leaving. The estate was no different.

At the time all eyes were focussed outwards so Perra was at, and over, the gate before her presence really registered. With no sign of a problem the guards delayed their decision whether to raise an alarm until they were then likely to be criticised for not raising it.

Perra was just following the road down the hillside without attempting to be furtive so the two guards finally decided that their bosses wouldn't want to be disturbed for what was obviously nothing.

"Unless it's logged it didn't happen", suggested one. His co-worker agreed. It hadn't happened!


The recent weather had been fortunate; the scent of the car was traceable to the bottom of the private road but then things got confusing. Still it was obvious that the conglomeration of lights was the likely destination. Perra was still naive enough not to realise the world consisted of more than the estate and the lights; had she realised that Damien could be in some other place, or even how big the "lights" were, she may have just curled up by the side of the road.

It was late and a weeknight and the road she followed passed through quiet residential suburbs where most people were fast asleep.

Perra travelled at a ground-covering lope, neither walking nor running, fit enough that the exercise had not begun to tire her. Her stride incorporated a bouncing motion, discovered to be the best compromise with the heavy pendulum-like boots; their inertia dragged her forward once she had a rhythm established rather than her having to lift them step by solid step.

As she went she lifted her puny nose to sniff the air.

"Not even a decent muzzle and such pathetic fangs", she thought, running her tongue over the blunt enamel. "How can humans spread their jaws wide enough to rip out a decent chunk of flesh?"

There was no trace of the one she sought.

Perra wandered through the chill night. She was happy she had thought to replace her fur with the human clothing; it wasn't sufficient but it was better than nothing would have been.

She found the variety of colours in the lighting nothing short of amazing. The enclosure had been left "au natural" except for tiny night lights along the sides of the paths. On the few occasions Perry could remember them being used their blue-violet glow could barely be seen by the animals below.

Now there was a plethora of multi-coloured neon signs around her, in or over shop windows; there were rows of orange sodium lights and the bright white mercury vapour lamps at the intersections. There were poles and suspended lights that changed colours in a perplexing yet regular manner. For a night "person" there was still plenty to see and Perra kept her head moving from side to side no different from any other tourist who didn't want to miss a thing.

Perra continued to follow the main road though she got no further clues to Damien's whereabouts. Quartering the estate had borne fruit so she was willing to try a similar technique without realising the far larger area and the greater number of confusing scents would make it a far more difficult problem for her weaker senses.

The suburbs eventually changed to the inner city and now she started seeing more people about. None of them were her Damien. Traffic flow increased as well and Perra found herself forced over to the sidewalks in imitation to the other humans.

While that kept her away from the dangerous metal carriages it brought her much closer to another danger that she did not have experience enough to comprehend until it was almost too late.

"Hey babe. Watcha doon out sa late? Lookin' fra part-ee?"

There were three men standing around next to one of the parked cars. She had trouble making sense of both their accents and their words; Damien did not speak like that.

They might know where to find him though.

"Damien. Find Damien."

Her speech was clearer than theirs in many respects but the slowness and limited wordage suggested that she was slightly retarded. Still she was certainly something to look at, regardless of her unusual costume, and the trio figured she might provide a little late night recreation.

"Damien? He's a good friend of ours. Ya want us to take ya t'him? Hop in." The speaker opened the door.

Perra thought a moment before climbing in. She understood their speech better than their intent and it was only when the three men climbed in, one in the front and the other two on either side of her, that she noticed the stink of their sexual anticipation.

Damien had never responded to her interests, if his sense of smell was as poor as hers seemed to be she did not wonder that he would have missed the aromatic cues. She didn't seem to go into heat quite like the rest of her ex-pack. She emitted the pheromones when oestrus was on her but unlike them she could resist the mating urges; contrarily she could have the urges, albeit nowhere near as strong, at other times when her female relatives would have rejected any advances -- not that the males would have been interested then.

These males seemed different. Though SHE knew she wasn't fertile they were responding as though she was. They had taken no action to establish their interest, yet, but their eyes showed they were well aware of her.

"Where you come from?" The man on her left who had not spoken yet asked a question that he didn't really care she answered; it might be nice to know if the young woman was likely to be missed if they decided to keep her for a while but they could find out more later. He would also have liked to have started exploring on the way but knew it would be easier to get her out of the car if she wasn't waking up half the neighbourhood. They could afford a short wait.

"Home." Perra didn't really have another name for it.

Once again the men interpreted this as being some institution. Perhaps she worked in the garden and had wandered off. If so she had probably been missing for several hours now. That she was wandering around the streets in the early hours of the morning did not suggest she was sensible enough to ask for help. The situation looked all the better for them.

Al turned into the driveway next to a rundown house in an older suburb, an area poorly maintained in comparison to the leafier avenues she had passed earlier in the evening.

Gabe, the one who had originally opened the door for her, got out and offered her his hand. When she was hesitant, more from a misunderstanding of the gesture, he took her arm, not unduly roughly but with an insistence she found disturbing.

Nick pushed her from behind, ready to cover her mouth if she tried to scream. That was a response she was not familiar with; a snarl would have been more likely.

"Damien is inside." Gabe tried to allay any suspicions while Al hurried to open the door. Perra got out and was "escorted" inside where she was "offered" a seat on the lounge between Gabe and Nick.

"Damien is out right now but we told him you were here. He said to wait for him and that we should have a little party together. 'Kay?"

"Here yago." Al pushed a glass towards her. Her senses found the smell of the harsh spirit acrid and she turned away refusing it.

"Where IS Damien?" she wondered.

"Not thirsty? Perhaps ya like to do other things with good ol' Damien? Howsbout we make ya a bit more comfy?"

Gabe was holding one arm while Nick held the other. Al put down the glass and started to undo the seal that held the front of Perra's overalls in place.

"Well now I've gotta say this here is one of the best outfits I've seen. It just peels apart and yaint got nuthin underneath." He pulled the sides of the material apart.

Since Perra felt no shame about her body nor experience of human behaviour in such situations his action, in itself, caused her no distress and she let him expose her breasts.

"Oh what fine titties ya got girl. They is just so tiny -- they is itty bitty titties! I think ya really should have ya drink now."

He put it to her lips, pressing his finger into her cheek, painfully separating her teeth so she would have to open enough for him to pour the whiskey between her lips. The taste made her gasp which only allowed him to pour in more which she was compelled to swallow.

It burned her throat going down and the odours burned inside her nostrils. She ended up swallowing the major part of a not insubstantial glass.

"Now ya just had to spill some dincha? I spose I better help clean ya up."

Al knelt before Perra and leaned towards her. The whiskey had flowed down her chin and Al licked the still-wet trail over her neck and down to one of the petite breasts.

She struggled at the unwelcome contact but was held firm on either side. Gabe took advantage of the bare breast beside him and began to rub his finger and thumb around the nipple. It hardened to his touch, a sign that promised an interesting night even if the unknown girl proved less than co-operative. She might not want to party but it looked like her body might not put up as much resistance; he much rather would work on a wet pussy than a dry one and he knew she would end up preferring that as well if she got to experience both.

Nick, without a breast of his own to play with, was opening the rest of the overalls. He reached around inside, not sure whether there was room to finger her cunt but the garment seemed loose enough to allow at least a little exploration. He found more than he expected without ever getting anywhere near his objective.

"What the fuck?!"

The abrupt delivery of his exclamation brought a halt to the other's activities.

"What?"

"Have a look what I found."

The three men took a serious look at the third breast and then the fourth, fifth, and sixth.

"How many fuck'n tits does she have anyway?"

"Let's see shall we? Clear the table."

Al hurried to obey Gabe and the other two walked Perra to the kitchen where she was stood facing the table. Al stood behind and slipped the overalls off of her shoulders, each man releasing his grip just long enough for the sleeves to be removed one at a time from her pale limbs.

Al produced a set of handcuffs and they secured her wrists behind her. With the garment around her knees she was turned again and lifted onto the table where her back was forced against the cold and gritty surface. Al barely paused to glance at the silky smooth pubic hair before pulling off her boots and discarding her only garment.

"Will ya look at this! Eight tittles all like the first."

"She must be Snow White!" laughed Gabe. "Pale as all hell and enough tits so each of the little guys got one each!"

Al laughed, ignoring the fact that this still left one for Prince Charming when he turned up. "Well there certainly are enough to go around here. Dig in."

The three men each bent over, taking one breast in each hand and pressing their mouths over a pointy nipple. There seemed barely enough flesh to hold onto!

Gabe, and then Nick when he saw what his friend had done, moved the hand that was holding the breast he was sucking on over to a breast that was free and began to work on three breasts simultaneously.

Al, at the end of the table, missed out but found the girl's pussy was fresh enough to explore as well. He used his chest and elbows to spread her thighs and trapped her knees in his armpits so he could continue to play with her lowermost pair of breasts while he lapped at her cunt juices.

The flavour was strong but not offensive and her struggles to get away from the three only spurred them on. The fact that she hadn't called for help made them more convinced that she was some dummy who didn't have enough sense to keep out of dangerous situations.

Perra had never been in a situation where such a call had been necessary. Her food had been past needing to call out and wouldn't have used those words. The call of one of the pack if trapped would have been more a warning to it's pack-mates to avoid the danger rather than a request for assistance; the pack itself would have treated a call for help only as a sign that the time had come for that member of the pack to die.

And then the elusive Damien. His only use of the word had been a loving "Are you ready to help me again girl?"; not a sentence that had any relationship to her current position.

Despite her anger at being confined and her annoyance that the three men had not taken her to her Damien, Perra was not afraid. She did not have the social upbringing that warned of stranger danger and rape; violence was a necessary way of life without being what would have been described as "needless".

Wolves lived with a "needed violence" when required and at other times were just as loving to their pack as any well-adjusted human family would have been. They could thrill to the hunt but, when the chase was finished, their prey was despatched as humanely (lupinely?) as possible. The provision of already despatched prey as food could not change untold generations of wolfish behaviour.

Though she continued to struggle, Perra's body was not strong enough to resist the attentions of three muscular men. Her own musculature would have made many a female athlete envious but it was built for speed and endurance, not for lifting or punching. Had she known some martial art it might have sufficed but her real defensive power lay in the jaw muscles she no longer possessed.

She couldn't help feel the pleasurable sensations that they were causing though. Had she been frightened of what was happening things might have been different but now she just wanted the pleasure to stop. They were NOT Damien and, though the position she was in was most unnatural, the situation was no different than when her former pack had been sniffing around before they had decided she was too different to be Pack any more.

The men finally decided that they had done enough to get her ready, after all they hadn't picked her up for HER entertainment. They weren't particularly brutal people, unless they had to be, and so far her relatively compliant behaviour had meant the rape had proceeded with remarkable civility.

They had their own pecking order so there was no objection when Al stood between Perra's legs and dropped his pants. Gabe similarly dragged his not unsubstantial erection through his fly and turned Perra's head towards it.

"Now ya be a good girl 'n' things will be all-l-l right. "Ya understand?"

Gabe took the movement of Perra's head to be acquisition. Perhaps this Damien guy had given her a bit of pork sausage himself from time to time and she was used to partying. He pushed his prick against her lips and with just the barest pause Perra opened to let him in.

Perra's taste buds were more sensitive than a human's though still not quite what she was used to. Fortunately her brain still had a wolf's sensibilities as to what was nice and what was nasty. A prick that has been sitting inside a pair of sweaty jocks for several hours isn't quite as offensive when you are used to tearing steaming entrails open to get at a hot bloody liver.

She wasn't at all sure of why he had put his prick there. Damien certainly hadn't done anything similar though she had groomed some of the other wolves and had licked their fur-covered sheaths and occasionally the spike-like extension that had poked forth as a result of her attentions. The fact it had included her father and brothers as well as the other members of the pack was not important; wolves didn't view things in quite the same way.

The actions of the three men, even Al's cunnilingus, were near enough to past grooming experiences that Perra hadn't found it disturbing. What Al was doing now WAS!

She automatically tried to turn her head but Gabe pressed his palm against her ear and began to move his organ in and out instead and her muffled attempts at protest meant the previously insipid blow job began to feel more pleasant.

Al had wiped the head of his prick through Perra's juices and had then slid the length of his erection over the surface of her pussy in an attempt to make her eager for the fucking he was about to give her. Her hips became more agitated as she realised his intention and a smile grew on his face -- if she kept that up he was going to have a good time; there was nothing worse than some bitch who just lay there!

Al didn't know just how much of a bitch was laying there. A bitch who didn't scream and scratch and cry. But rather a bitch who had had to stand up against those who had been closest to her and who had an ingrained instinct to fight for herself in one way.

Gabe had no chance. Perra's teeth clamping down in reflex to Al's thrust through her hymen might not have caused him a serious injury (seriousness in this case being, like beauty, very much a personal appraisal) but she still had some of the former length in her canines and the puncturing wounds they caused were instinctively followed by a seizure of the tender piece of meat between scissor-like incisors and a twisting of her head that even his heavy hand could not prevent.

Al looked up from the view of his own vanished prick to the sound of Gabe's piercing scream. His friend staggered back with blood flowing out of his trousers like a stream of the reddest piss Al could imagine. Nick's movement as he jumped back from the table caused him to turn back away from the horrid image. He found an even worse one.

Perra, her lips and chin smeared with the blood flowing from Gabe's stump, was chewing and, as Al watched in disbelief, she swallowed and then began chewing again.

They had thought her mentally disabled, now they wondered what sort of homicidal maniac they had found.

Al's penis was shrivelling but before it had dropped out of Perra's no longer virgin hole he felt it squeezed hard as yet another horror occurred.

Perra was changing in front of his, and Nick's, eyes. Gabe, collapsed on the floor, curled in a ball and still screaming, missed the transformation from attractive young woman to equally attractive young wolf.

For Perra it was not a pleasant experience. The transformation was not painful, merely a little discomfort akin to growing pains as limbs adjusted and to indigestion as internal organs moved around. Her fore legs however were trapped behind her in a position that was barely okay for a human and excruciating for a canine.

Al found that he was now holding the much thinner and hairier hind legs of a wolf that was struggling to get free of the handcuffs holding her imprisoned. He looked down as he felt his penis pushed out of Perra's body. He had been fucking a bloody animal!

He let Perra go and stepped back himself just as her paw slipped through the circle of steel set to hold a human wrist. She rolled over, bringing her front legs back into a more normal position and lay there for a few seconds as her shoulders screamed their own agony and simultaneous relief.

Al was more worried about his reputation should his bestial activities become known than about Gabe's injury. If Gabe bled to death it would be one less witness though it would be preferable if he died when Al wasn't around. At least it was Gabe's house. He looked over at Nick's face where he was trying, barely successfully, not to vomit.

"Kill her", he said softly. "You go one way and I'll go the other. There's knives behind you and I'll get Gabe's gun."

He slowly moved past Gabe.

What he didn't count on was Perra understanding every word of this conversation, well all but one; she wasn't familiar with "gun" but taken in context it wasn't going to be something nice.

Knives could cut; Perra had watched Damien preparing the meat for those animals who couldn't take a whole goat or sheep. "Knives" cut through the flesh even better than her own teeth in some respects. "Kill her" was also obvious and very personal. Perra ignored the ache in her shoulder and launched herself off of the tabletop in a fluid motion even as Nick grabbed the long and very sharp carving knife.

It was impossible for Nick to hold the knife once Perra's fangs tore the muscles of his forearm into something that reminded him of diced steak and it clattered to the floor as he added his screams to Gabe's. Perra left him and turned to find the third rapist.

Al might have been okay if he had bothered to close the door behind him. Only "might" since Perra in wolf form probably had the strength to break it open without first having to change back to turn the knob. He "might" have had enough time to put more than one bullet into the revolver and "might" have had time to aim properly -- but he didn't.

His shot wasn't far off but the bullet only passed through Perra's fore leg as she jumped towards him and then her teeth were in his throat while he uselessly pulled the trigger over and over until his brain, starved of the oxygen-filled blood pulsing from his carotids, stopped telling his fingers to squeeze yet again.

He had fallen as she crashed into him and she tore the front of his throat out, quite appropriately wolfing it down. As the adrenalin rush passed the pain of the bullet wound became obvious and she wobbled in reaction.

Perra turned away from Al's body and limped back to the lounge and then the kitchen where the two other men lay, their screams turned to whimpers.

Both looked pale amidst the rich red blood. Gabe had just sat in shocked disbelief as his pants had become a sodden mess. He had made no attempt to stop the flow and now it was going to be too late unless a paramedic arrived in the next minute or so.

Nick's pants were a sodden mess as well but only because he had lost control of both bladder and bowels at the infliction of a pain he had never previously experienced in circumstances he could not accept. There were no such things as werewolves!

He was right. But there was at least one were-human.

Being right didn't stop the arterial flow that spurted far less energetically as shock shut down peripheral blood flow to ensure an adequate supply to the more vital parts of his body. That assumed that he had enough left to BE an adequate supply; an incorrect assumption.

Nick watched the she-wolf standing beside him and waited for her to attack again. Had she been a shark she would have but Perra had no need to do any more. She didn't particularly hate him, or the other two, she had simply reacted to an attack against her. Had Al found some other way to get his pleasure she may even have groomed all three of them, blowing them until they came even though that wasn't a wolf "tradition".

Perra simply turned and limped towards the door on three legs. She looked at the latch and the change was far easier this time.

On two legs it was easy to walk past the dying rapists to don her only garment and boots. Then out the door and off into the dark, once more keeping stealthily to the shadows.


Monitoring their scanners, the press turned up with the Police in response to some neighbour's call about the blood-curdling screams that came from the only house that had had its lights on at 3:30 in the morning. There were a few more now that there were red and blue lights flashing as well.

It might have been a poorer neighbourhood than that Perra had first seen but that didn't mean the people who lived there were any better or worse. Those who were of the better sort welcomed the Police presence. The three new corpses had lived there because they couldn't afford better; had they been wealthier they would simply have planned their rapes differently or perhaps made more use of the city's hookers.

Even before the sun had risen, the radio and television news reports were telling of the vicious murder. They mentioned the dog bites but even the reporters who had been told about the injuries "off the record" were not able to talk about lost penises; even torn out throats would have to wait for the late-night news, it wasn't something to hear over one's breakfast.

Damien hadn't tuned in to the news but did have a job interview that morning. With little time to search for anything better when he didn't know how long his money had to last, he had gotten a small room only three blocks from where Perra had been taken. Despite their proximity, he certainly had no knowledge of her captives.

There was still a large enough Police presence in the morning to draw a crowd of onlookers as they headed off to their jobs. Damien, heading past on foot, had paused long enough to find out what had happened and then had to sprint to catch his bus into the city.


Perra had found an abandoned building to hide out in during the day. It had been less than twenty four hours since her first transformation and she was still used to a nocturnal existence even though her colour vision was far less sensitive to the more subtle differences at night than her relatives' monochromatic sight. Still you don't miss that which you never had quite as much as the things you know you have lost.

What she had lost, and was definitely missing, was her Damien. During the day Perra had periodically licked at her arm, keeping the small wounds clean. The bruised muscle tissue was sore but there had very fortunately been minimal damage. There had been little blood flow once she had settled but she quite noticeably favoured it once dusk descended.

She crept out of the building and stripped off in the shadows of a nearby garden to empty her bladder and her bowels. It was cool but she was smart enough to know that leaving the garment on would not be a good idea.

Perra managed to dress again without being caught; it was getting easier (with a single exception) to twist her limbs to slide them down the sleeves and pants legs. She started out on her quest again. One direction seemed as good as another and she continued away from the scene of her imprisonment.

The basically rectangular city blocks helped make her search more systematic as she walked down one side of several and then walked around the end of the block to come back on the opposite side. She combined the inherent sense of direction and ability to smell her own trail from her wolf ancestry with the ability to conceptualise the geometrical design of the landscapes she was experiencing and the numerical skills to count her progress. She covered five blocks then came back down the next five, zigzagging between the two major North-South thoroughfares.

It took almost four hours even though Perra ignored the little lanes and cul-de-sacs that would have made the distance even longer. She moved at a ground-covering rate, running with her regular boot-clomping bounce for a block and a half then walking for the balance of the block. She was an unusual jogger who drew quite a few glances and comments but it was early enough that she didn't meet up with the equivalent of the morning's three stooges; her system allowed her to keep going far longer than a normal jogger would have managed. She copied Damien's actions and turned on a garden tap every now and then to get some water; she only got one objection but she simply ignored it with some puzzlement. Private ownership, other than of a fresh kill, wasn't a wolfish trait.

A block of warehouses and then a linear park divided the suburbs from the city and Perra decided to head back to her starting point and continue in the other direction. The direct route back was far quicker.

Perra's zigzags took her past the scene of her "crime" and she walked rather than ran so she could see what was happening there. A crowd, much smaller than in the morning, had gathered ghoul-like at the mere suggestion of a murder site and an officer had been detailed to keep them out for now. It made no sense to Perra and the person walking in the outlandish costume didn't draw the same attention that the same person running would have.

The officer watching the crowd did notice the woman pause and tilt her head back but, other than wishing she had come closer so he could have seen if she really was as good looking as she seemed, he ignored her harmless behaviour.

Perra had found a trace. Perhaps her captors HAD known Damien. She sniffed the air. It was faint and she had to roam around somewhat to find where it was strongest. It was probably the longest five minutes of her life and her bladder was twitching with the excitement; she had found him! (She hoped.)

Perra broke out into a run. The spoor was only getting stronger and any delay was too long after all she felt she had gone through. If she went too far and lost it she would only have to double back a little way but she was confident in her abilities.

It helped that the young man had walked in a straight line before turning the corner to walk past the infamous house. Perra only lost Damien's scent when she had gone past the entrance to his building. She immediately turned back and carefully followed the trail inside.

There were only three floors but of course he had to live on the top one. Perra barely noticed the climb. There were six doors and she went to the one that he clearly used and then came the dilemma. It was close to one in the morning and Perra couldn't get the door to open; she had experience of latches and door knobs but keys were another matter.

"Damien." Perra called softly.

"Damien!" More urgently and louder when he didn't come.

"Damien!!!" She finally heard a response from behind the door.

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