Wolf Island
Copyright© 2026 by Sonarflash2026
Chapter 3
Science Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 3 - A product of illicit genetic engineering, Beth escapes from a research facility in a stolen kayak. Pursued by men in a fast cruiser, she turns into a limestone fissure, hoping to find a place to hide. Swept into a tidal cavern, she escapes, finding herself mystically swept into an alternate world.
Caution: This Science Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Science Fiction Paranormal Magic Were animal Cream Pie Oral Sex
He came out of the night, silvery grey and fierce, eyes shifting from red to amber as they caught firelight. He stalked up to the circle of stones, glaring at her.
Beth averted her eyes, not staring back while keeping watch. She absently poked a stick into embers, stirring up flames. She tossed in more branches, some dry grass and dried bark. The wolf huffed, backing off a little as tinder flared. His chest rumbled, then he settled on haunches, glancing left and right, finally staring at her. Beth knew better than to stare back. Instead, she studied him surreptitiously, still not certain she believed Edward’s tale.
With access to an extensive electronic library, she had seen numerous videos and pictures of wolves. This one was large, but not as large or tall as an Arctic timber wolf. He was also clean and glossy. Instead of the Duke’s dire warnings, his altered self didn’t seem all that fearsome, though she knew any wolf could be dangerous.
When his nostrils twitched, attention shifting to her cooking, Beth noticed. The frying pan had cooled some. She reached, snatching out a large slab of salmon. Caught towards sunset with a hand line, the fish had been seven or eight kilos in weight.
“Care for a bedtime snack? she asked, holding up the large filet.
The wolf huffed again, nostrils twitching. She moved slow, easing to her feet, edging around the circle of stones, the broiled salmon held out before her. A mouth full of large fangs yawned open. An inordinately long, red tongue curled around the fillet, then jaws snapped and the fish vanished. He chewed twice, licked his chops, swallowed and sighed. Beth interpreted his groan as one of satisfaction. Boldly, she held out her hand. His nostrils flared, sniffing. Long and red, his tongue thoroughly licked her fingers. She plucked out another chunk of salmon. He took that with more decorum, again licking down grease and fish oil, finally cleaning her hand.
Memories stirred, the wet slide of his tongue between fingers evoking images. Beth shivered, reminded of facility guard dogs, and how she had used her body to imprint two big males. After letting them mount her a few times, she soon gained their eager cooperation. That bit of planning and foresight guaranteed her escape; and, now, presented with this wolf, a restless urge began stirring her loins.
“Should I go there?” she wondered, not moving back when the wolf continued licking, his tongue mobile and soft. Her imagination had that same tongue lavishing attention on other parts. She felt herself getting wet with the beginning of an arousal, eyes drifting down to his belly. Light grey shaded to white fur about his large scrotum. She licked her lips, gaze moving back to the wet slit of his penile sheath. While she looked, his licking stopped. The wolf cocked his head, ears twitching. As though sensing her focus, a glistening centimetre of penis emerged from the furry sheath. Beth stared, swallowing as remembered pleasure coursed through her insides. Firelight perfectly illuminated his wetness. Instantly, she was recalling how penetration of guard dogs felt so much better than the rough dryness of the men who used her.
Sight of the wolf’s tapered, wet, crimson tip held her focus. Aware of her attention, he whined, flicking the long brush of his tail. Almost like an invitation, liquid began dripping from the pointed tip of his extruding shaft.
“Oh shit!” she breathed, recognizing the familiar stirring in her belly ... After a few months, imprinting the guard dogs had become a very pleasurable routine. After her first experience, getting knotted by one of the big male dogs was far more satisfying than submitting to the rutting of a sweaty human male. Her keepers were all about getting off. At least the guard dogs indulged her with eager foreplay, tongues gladly lapping up her vaginal juices.
Beth felt her resistance crumble. An early indulgence to sexual pleasure had become an addiction that was her greatest weakness. Desire took hold even as she wondered if the wolf would be too large for her. That could prove dangerous. She bit her lower lip, already imagining his continual release pumping out the contents of two very large balls.
As though reading her thoughts, amber Eyes fixed on her face. The wolf gave a low, questioning whine. Ruby and slick, more of his shaft emerged, catching firelight. He moved, head ducking, nostrils sniffing between her legs. Beth took a faltering step back and away from the fire. He followed, growling, letting out a ‘wuff’ of hot breath that penetrated denim and panties. He nudged Beth insistently, then took her jeans in his fangs, tugging emphatically. His demand was unmistakeable.