Chapter 5: Turning

Matt was woken by Smoke’s whining. He blinked groggily, resisting the urge to turn on his phone’s screen to see where the dog was. He pulled his earbuds out, listening to the Husky grumble and whimper. He was somewhere over by one of the windows in the living room.

“What’s wrong Smoke?”

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw the dog scratching at the wall below the window and whining as he looked out beneath the curtain. His ears were up and alert, tracking something. This was the noise that he usually made when he saw something to chase in the forest near the house, and he wanted to be let out.

“No Smoke, you can’t go outside,” Matt mumbled. He rolled over, intending to go back to sleep, but then Smoke barked loudly. Matt slid off the couch, knowing that he’d get no peace as long as his pet was excited. If the dog didn’t quieten down, he would have to shut him in the kitchen. Smoke yapped again, whining, something in the woods surrounding the house was getting him riled up. It was probably a squirrel or a deer.

He rose to his feet reluctantly and walked over to Smoke, gripping him by the collar and pulling him down from the windowsill, he had scarred the wallpaper beneath it with his sharp claws. Smoke immediately tried to jump back up, ignoring his master entirely, all of his senses focused like a laser beam on whatever he had seen outside.

“Smoke, bad dog,” Matt grumbled. “Smoke!”

The dog barked again, his tail as straight as a rod. Something really had him spooked.

A howl rang out over the forest, loud enough to be heard clearly inside the house, making Matt’s skin crawl and his blood run ice cold as it echoed through the trees. Smoke barked excitedly, tugging at his collar as Matt struggled to hold him.

That was a wolf! Had to be. Matt knew that there were timber wolves in the Pacific Northwest, but they tended to steer clear of humans and population centers.

Wait a minute, the biker was out there, alone in the forest. Timber wolves could grow to be as long as a human was tall and they hunted in packs. If they had come across her out in the woods, then she might be in danger. As much as he loved nature, reintroducing those animals into the wild had been a fucking stupid idea. Who knew when some lost hiker or wayward camper might fall prey to them.

He released Smoke, rushing to get his boots and his coat. Her cryptic instructions be damned, he wasn’t about to wait around while she got savaged by a pack of wild animals. He had a gun, most people who lived out in the boonies did, an old double-barrel shotgun that would deter a wolf if it didn’t kill it outright. It belonged to his father, but he had shot it a couple of times in his youth, and he knew how to handle it well enough.

Smoke shot towards the front door, smart enough to know what was going on. He sensed that his master was on the hunt. The dog whined and scratched at the door as Matt tied his laces and threw on his parka, retrieving the gun from its place beside the coat rack and opening the break action. No shells, he had forgotten that it wasn’t kept loaded, but he knew that there were some loose shells in one of the kitchen drawers.

He raced to the kitchen, fumbling in the drawers until he found the shells, loading the weapon with two of them and shoving a loose handful into his pocket. He made for the door, unbolting it with a loud click as Smoke spun excitedly nearby.

“No Smoke, stay! Stay!”

The dog was ignoring him, so Matt raised his voice, his tone stern.

“Smoke, sit! Stay!”

The dog sat reluctantly, his ears still standing erect and his eyes fixed on the door. Matt opened it a crack, trying to slide through without giving Smoke room to escape, but the dog was large and powerful. He bolted past his master like a bat out of hell as soon as he saw an opening.

“Smoke! Come! Bad dog!”

Too late, the Husky had vanished into the trees. Matt cursed under his breath and set off after him, at least the damned dog would lead him straight to the wolves. If he could at least scare them out of the general area, then they hopefully wouldn’t find the biker. He should have kept Smoke on a leash, damn it. He was a big dog, but he couldn’t face off with a timber wolf.

Matt jogged towards the treeline, Smoke now out of sight as he entered the forest, hurrying in the direction that he had seen the dog run. The air was cold, stinging his mouth and nose as he panted, the shotgun held ready lest he meet one of the wolves. The pine forest was dark and steeped in shadows that might hide all manner of critters or beasts, lit by a bright full moon that was at its apex in the sky, the night cloudless and dotted with twinkling stars. It was fortunate, he could at least see where he was walking. In his haste, he had neglected to bring a flashlight with him.

“Smoke!”

He couldn’t hear anything besides the rustling of the trees in the breeze. There were no howls or barks, no whining or shouts for help. He got the impression that he wasn’t alone, however. The feeling was making the hair on his arms and neck stand on end, as if there was some unseen force watching him from afar. He clutched the comforting heft of the shotgun in his hands, feeling the wood grain beneath his fingers as he shouldered the stock. He had to be careful, the last thing he wanted to do was shoot Smoke accidentally if he came barreling out from between the trees, he looked enough like a wolf himself.

As he made his way through the forest, he spotted something on the ground, black and shiny. He walked over to it and crouched down to examine it, realizing with a pang of anxiety that it was the biker’s signature jacket. He lifted it, fearing that it would be torn and bloody, the evidence of some horrific attack. It was intact, however, undamaged. Almost as if she had taken it off herself. Why would she have done that?

The eerie silence was broken by another blood-curdling howl, this one sounded closer and whatever was making that ominous noise was fucking big. It was deep and powerful, guttural, somehow wrong. That wasn’t how a wolf should sound, it sounded more like a bear, but bears didn’t howl like that...

Matt fought the instinct to run back to the safety of the house. He had come out here intending to find the lost woman, or at least to scare away the wolves. He sure as hell wasn’t going back without his dog at the very least. He mustered the courage to shout again as he rose to his feet and continued on, his voice echoing through the forest.

“Smoke! Come!”

To his immense relief, after a few tense moments, his dog appeared from the undergrowth a few feet in front of him. He was wagging his tail as his pink tongue hung from his mouth.

“Smoke!” Matt hissed, “come here you stupid dog!” He patted his thigh, but the damned mutt didn’t budge. Instead, he shot back into the forest as Matt gave chase. He could hear the rustling, the dog’s paws impacting the ground as he ran after him. If he had to get a hold of his collar and drag the dog back to the house by the neck, he would.

Matt ground to a halt, his eyes wide, feeling as if he had just been stabbed through the chest with an icicle. There was something in the forest, something huge and hairy lurking between the trees perhaps thirty feet away. He darted behind a nearby tree trunk as he held the shotgun with shaking hands. What the hell was it?

He dared to peek out from behind his hiding spot, watching the thing as it was illuminated in the moonlight. It must be eight feet tall at least, covered in a coat of shaggy fur, walking on its hind legs. It had to be a grizzly bear, nothing else was that large. Could his shotgun stop a grizzly? He gritted his teeth in horror as he watched Smoke trot up to the thing, practically begging for a paw swipe that would gut him like a trout, but Matt was too terrified to cry out to him.

The dog lifted its head towards the creature, which lowered its nose to smell him in turn, the two of them touching snouts. Matt breathed a sigh of relief. At least for the moment, the bear did not seem to be aggressive towards the dog, but that surely wouldn’t last. He had to find a way to get back to the house. He couldn’t take on a bear, but he didn’t want to leave his best friend out here to die.

If there was a bear in the area then there wouldn’t be any wolves nearby, perhaps the woman would be safe as long as the grizzly didn’t find her. He would call the police when he got back to the house, which is what he should have done the moment the strange woman had wandered off into the forest alone. What the hell had been going through his head when he had humored her bizarre request? He had been thinking with his dick, that was the problem, and now she might be bear bait for all he knew.

Just as he was mustering the courage to slink off back towards the house to call for help, Smoke appeared beside him, wagging his tail happily. Matt’s heart stopped cold in his chest, the stupid dog had given him away. He was going to get them both eaten.

This was his chance. He reached down and gripped Smoke by the collar, dragging him along with him as he trudged through the undergrowth. He went as fast he could, but not fast enough, hearing the movement of something large and heavy behind him. It panted, sniffing the air loudly, tracking him. Keeping one hand on Smoke’s collar, he swung his shotgun in the direction of the sound, his blood running cold as he looked up at the silhouette of something monstrous standing between two tall trees and looming over him.

It wasn’t a bear, its build was all wrong. It looked like a gigantic timber wolf that was rearing up on its hind legs. No, it was more humanoid than that, with muscular arms and legs that were placed wrong for a canine. The light of the moon illuminated it as it took a step forward, emerging from beneath the shadow cast by the trees. Matt was frozen in terror, unable to move as his eyes played over it.

The creature had the face of a wolf with a wet, black nose on the end of its long snout. Its hackles were raised and its black lips were drawn back in a snarl, exposing long, pearly teeth that glinted in the pale light. Slaver hung from its jaws in long strands, its eyes yellow and intense, staring at him with a primal hunger that was almost palpable. It was covered in thick, grey fur that blew gently in the wind, obscuring many of its features. Its body was ... wrong. It was humanoid, standing upright on a pair of legs that were jointed like those of a dog. Its two arms ended in distinctly human hands, its fingers tipped with black claws that scoured the bark on the trees where it gripped them.

Smoke seemed unconcerned by the thing, but Matt felt like he was about to soil himself, finally regaining control of his faculties as he aimed his shotgun at its head.

There was a crack like thunder as he fired both barrels, a roar of anger deafening him as he turned and ran, not waiting to see if he had even hit the thing. He let go of Smoke, sprinting back towards the house, the bellows of the creature echoing behind him as he stumbled through the dense woodland. He wasn’t even sure that he was going in the right direction, he wasn’t thinking, adrenaline was coursing through his veins and his most base and primal instincts were compelling him to flee. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he emerged into the clearing around his house, running towards the door, faster than he had ever run in his life.

He slammed into it, still hearing the snarling of the monster on his heels, fumbling with the handle and rushing inside to slam the door behind him. With shaking hands, he closed the bolt, and not a second after it slid into place something impossibly heavy slammed against the door from the other side. Matt fell backwards, scrambling along the floor, watching as the door shook on its hinges. The monster hammered on the wood, he could hear the creature’s panting breath as it took in his scent, its rumbling snarl as it tore at the door with its wicked claws.

For a moment he feared that it would break down the door and come in after him, but the house was old and sturdy, the beast giving up after a few moments. He could hear the slow plodding of its feet as it circled around the house, practically feeling the vibrations through the floor. The thing weighed as much as a damned truck.

It snarled and growled with every breath, the very sound of it instilling him with a primal terror stronger than any fear that he had ever felt before. It was stalking him, trying to find a way inside. He crawled towards the living room on his hands and knees, staying low and out of sight. He saw its shadow pass behind the curtain and he trembled as its long, hooked claws scraped against the glass. Its breath misted the pane, its yellow eyes visible through the thin fabric of the curtain. He prayed to whatever deity might be listening that it wouldn’t pry open the window and find its way inside.

It moved on, lumbering around the side of the building, reappearing at the window on the far wall. The living room was at the corner of the house, and it had two large windows, one facing North and the other facing West. Again its long claws scraped against the glass, squeaking like nails on a chalkboard, its shadow blocking the light of the moon as it tried to figure out a way to get to him. It was strong enough to easily break the glass, but it might not be able to squeeze through the opening. Was it smart for having realized that, or was it stupid for not having tried? Just what the hell kind of animal was it?

He took refuge behind the couch, hoping that it wouldn’t see him, his arms wrapped around his knees and the shotgun resting at his side as he considered what to do next. Buckshot wasn’t going to stop the thing, it was too large, but it might at least deter it if it managed to get inside. He dug in the pocket of his parka for the spare shells, popping the spent ones out of the shotgun and reloading it, the weapon doing little to comfort him. The thing’s nose pressed against the window with a bump, smearing moisture on the pane as it tried to smell him, then it broke away and moved on.

His heart skipped a beat as he realized that he could no longer see it. He wracked his brain trying to remember if there were any other ways to get into the house that he might not have accounted for. Fortunately for him, the biker had told him to secure the house earlier, or the thing might well have broken in by now. Had she somehow known that this would happen? How was that possible?

He was startled by a loud thudding sound, coming from the back door no doubt. The beast at least knew what a door was and it was trying to break in. Matt scrambled to his feet, raising the shotgun as he crept towards the kitchen, his heart leaping in his chest as he watched the back door shake in its frame. The thing was throwing all of its weight against it, trying to get inside, but it was locked tight. It lowered its snout, blowing air under the door as it breathed in his smell, snarling and gurgling wetly as it caught his scent.

He felt a moment of relief as it seemed to pull away, but then he saw it standing by the small window just above the sink, with no curtain to cover it. Its glowing yellow eyes pierced him, wide and unblinking, with dilated pupils like black circles. It was looking right at him, making eye contact, betraying a calculating and predatory intelligence. He fled, taking cover behind the fridge, not wanting to look at the thing for a second longer.

When he dared to look again, it was gone, moving on to some other door or window no doubt. All of the windows on the upper floor were closed up too, and he doubted that it could have reached them. It was very tall, but not that tall. He heard the shattering of glass, and he shouldered his shotgun as he rushed towards the source of the sound, his adrenaline fading now to leave him frightened and exhausted. He rounded a corner into the living room to see shards of broken glass on the carpet, the creature’s long arm reaching in through the opening and grasping with its clawed fingers. It resembled a man’s arm at first glance, with a five-fingered hand, but it was unnaturally elongated and coated in a layer of shaggy fur.

Matt wasted no time, aiming his weapon and firing it, buckshot pockmarking the wall around the window as the beast shrieked with pain and withdrew its hairy limb. It couldn’t get in that way at least, the opening was too small for it, and he watched as the shadowy figure fled around to another side of the house.

The windows on the ground floor were the largest, but it couldn’t get in through any of them. As long as the doors were all bolted and locked, he should be relatively safe. He popped open the hinge on his shotgun and plucked out the spent shells, cursing as he burned his fingers on the hot metal. He only had three shells left in his pocket, but there were more in the kitchen if he needed them. He struggled to load the gun with trembling hands as he kept an ear out for any untoward noises.

He heard huffing coming from the back of the house, and he hurried out of the living room and down the hallway. It sounded like it was coming from the direction of ... the garage!

Of course, there was a third door to the house, the one that led to the garage. He hadn’t even thought about it. The garage door had been closed for years, and it had only been opened so that the biker could search inside for tools. How could he have been so stupid? He sprinted towards the door, knowing that if he could lock it before the creature figured out how to open it, he would be safe.

He froze on the spot as he watched the garage door swing open with a creak, a pair of glowing, yellow eyes peering at him from the darkness beyond. A breeze blew into the hall, carrying the smell of oil along with it, joined by the musk of an animal. It knew that it had Matt cornered now, he could see the satisfaction in its eyes, the claws on its paw-like feet scraping against the wood floor as it stepped over the threshold.

Matt made to fire his weapon, but the thing was on him in a flash, swiping at the long barrel of the shotgun and batting it out of his hands. It was so large that it filled the hallway, its head brushing the ceiling even as it crouched to fit, its shoulders broad enough to scrape against the walls. Its jaws were open, the pale teeth of a carnivore bared as fat strings of drool hung from its dark lips, the flesh on its long snout furrowed as it loosed a heart-stopping snarl that shook him to the bone.

He turned and fled, the beast tearing after him, slowed by its sheer size as it struggled through the house. Matt headed towards the staircase, hoping that the old wood might not be able to support the thing’s weight. It squeezed through the doorway behind him as its grasping claws tore at the back of his parka, slicing through the material like a knife through butter.

He mounted the stairs, flying up them as his pursuer splintered the door frame, shouldering through it as it chased after him. The floorboards creaked beneath its feet, so heavy that it might well break through them and crash down into the basement below, but it was too much to hope for. Matt cleared the landing and broke into a sprint, heading towards the bedroom. He heard the sound of claws on wood as the beast struggled its way up the stairs behind him.

He made it inside and slammed the old oak door, locking it just as the creature barreled into it from the other side, the key flying from the lock under the impact and clattering onto the floor. It howled, a haunting and terrifying sound, perhaps trying to call more of its ilk to the hunt. Matt scrambled across the room and slid beneath the bed, taking refuge as it clawed at the door, panting and slavering as it threw all of its strength at the obstacle. When it had been trying to get into the house, it had been stalking, cautious. But now it was in a blind rage. He could hear its massive fists hammering against the wood, its shoulder shaking the door on its old hinges as it tried to knock it down. Matt covered his ears, the growling and yapping getting to him, praying that it would not break through.

While the door was made of thick oak, the hinges were old and rusted. As the beast slammed into the door one final time, the hinges snapped off, and the heavy slab of wood fell to the floor with a monumental crash.

Matt covered his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle the sound of his frightened breathing, watching in horror as it stepped on top of the felled door. Its long tail waved behind it, covered in puffy fur like that of a wolf. He heard it sniff the air, tracking him like a bloodhound.

It paused near the end of the bed, taking in deep, rumbling huffs. There was no way it wouldn’t find him here, he was done for. He watched as its clawed feet moved around to the side of the bed, he could feel the vibrations in his chest as he lay prone on the floor, it was heavy enough to make the boards sag.

Suddenly its yellow eyes were staring at him. He felt a hand grip him by the ankle, dragging him out from beneath the bed as he kicked and fought. He stomach lurched as it held him upside down, flinging him onto the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath him.

He rolled onto his back to face the thing as it leaned over him, the only light in the room filtered through the curtains, the moon’s pale glow illuminating the beast. Matt resigned himself to his fate. He was caught, he could only hope that his death would come quickly as it pressed closer and opened its jaws near his neck. He shut his eyes, just wanting it to be over, preparing himself for the killing bite.

He felt its hot breath wash over him, its pearly canines pressing into his skin, the musky smell of it rising to his nose as its thick saliva dripped down onto his collar. It seemed to hesitate, its wicked fangs withdrawing. He shivered as it thrust its wet nose into the nape of his neck, hearing it huff and sniff loudly as it breathed in his scent. One of its large hands came to rest beside him on the bed, sharp claws digging into the fabric, and he winced as it took his face in its fingers and turned his head as if trying to examine him.

Its jaws were so close, he could smell its breath, surprisingly not rancid as he had imagined. He could hear it panting, hear the movement of its flat tongue in its mouth as it licked its chops.

He dared to glance up at it again, opening his eyes to see its long snout hovering an inch away from his face, its black lips now covering its sharp teeth. Had it decided not to eat him? It had caught him now, it had no reason not to finish the job, and yet it seemed far more interested in sniffing him.

Its long, pink tongue left its maw to lick him, dragging from his neck up to his cheek like a damp towel. It was like a dog’s tongue, flat and flexible, hot and coated with viscous drool. Matt resisted the urge to wipe away the trail of saliva lest he startle the creature, feeling it move down to his chest, trying to push its wet nose beneath his parka.

He heard the telltale pitter patter of Smoke’s feet as he came up the stairs, Matt turning his head slowly to watch as the Husky trotted into the room, sitting on the floor beside the furry beast.

What the hell was going on? Smoke was not afraid of it, and he didn’t seem concerned for his master’s safety in the least. Balto must be rolling in his grave. The towering creature seemed indifferent to the presence of the Husky too, as though the two of them had found some sort of truce.

The thing’s claws dug into the fabric of his coat, tearing it open with ease as if it was made of nothing more than tissue paper. It hooked its sharp talons beneath the flannel shirt that lay beneath, grazing his skin as it ripped it apart to expose his bare chest, a string of its slaver falling to land heavily on his belly. Maybe it had been confused by his clothes, and now that it had uncovered his body it was going to tear into him like a hungry lion?

He lay still, the only movement coming from the slow rise and fall of his chest, the wolf-like creature lowering its dripping jowls towards his exposed torso. He felt its hot breath on his chest, its black lips pulling back to reveal its wicked teeth and its impossibly long tongue sliding out of its mouth to drag across his skin. The fear was making him hypersensitive, the smooth flesh of its damp organ tickling him, and he opened his mouth to breathe a gasp of surprise.

It loosed a deep rumble, like a growl but not quite as aggressive, shaking Matt’s bones. Fear was hard to maintain and his terror was fading along with his adrenaline rush, replaced by fatigue as the thing lapped at his belly with its wide tongue.

It was so wet, coating him in its stringy saliva, clear ropes of it hanging from its dark lips with the consistency of jelly.

Now that he was less terrified, he took the opportunity to get a closer look at the beast’s body. It was covered from head to toe in thick, grey fur, identical to that of a wolf. It was humanoid from the neck to the knees, its lower limbs tapering into the Z shaped configuration of a canine’s hind leg. It was bipedal, however, balancing on wide paws that were tipped with the same sharp claws that were to be found on the ends of its fingers. It was like someone had taken a man, covered him in fur and blown him up to eight or nine feet.

Er ... make that a woman...

He spied two heavy breasts hanging from its chest, emerging from the forest of thick fur as they swayed with its movements, their surface covered in a thinner layer of grey hair that parted to reveal two black nipples. They were enormous, larger than his head. It was like someone had put two watermelons in socks and had hung them from its body. Its hips were wide too, giving it a distinct hourglass figure, with thick thighs to support its immense weight.

It almost looked like a werewolf, but those weren’t real, right?

The creature roamed down towards his trousers, drawing in huge lungfuls of air as it sniffed loudly, drool raining down on him. It reminded him of Smoke when he cooked bacon, sitting beside the stove and salivating, hoping that a scrap might fall to the floor.

He squirmed and gritted his teeth in discomfort as it dug its claws beneath his waistband, tugging at his pants as if trying to pull them off, the denim too thick for it to easily tear. It pressed its snout against his hip, the cold of its nose contrasting with the heat coming from its mouth, chewing at the fabric in an attempt to get through.

It finally succeeded in ripping through the denim at the belt line, dragging the jeans down and throwing them aside, the rain of gooey drool now falling on his bare thighs. His hands moved down towards his groin, slowly so as not to startle the animal, attempting to cover his crotch. It beat him to the punch however, gripping his hip with one hand as it ripped off his shorts with the other, its claws pressing into his skin to leave red indents.

He now lay naked before his captor, increasingly unsure of its motives, and he lurched as it leaned down to smell his loins. A quiet whimper escaped his lips as its soft, flat tongue dragged across his balls, blood flooding into his member despite his fear and confusion. Now was not the time to get an erection, for all he knew the damned thing might just bite it off like it was a Vienna sausage.

It pushed its wet nose into his pubic hair, air blowing as it sniffed, then it roamed down and licked his inner thigh. He realized that he was trembling, his legs shaking, his breathing now ragged and irregular. He felt as if he might melt into a puddle on the bed. He didn’t understand what was happening, nor did he understand his strange reaction to it.

The wolf found his erection, grazing its length with its tongue, like someone had soaked a washcloth in KY jelly. He gasped and writhed, its slippery muscle grazing the sensitive underside of his glans as it withdrew, coating his manhood in its warm slaver.

Why was he so goddamned hard? It was wrong, insane, but as the monster came back down to lap at his balls, his spine arched off the mattress and his member throbbed in the air. It teased him, perhaps unintentionally, its powerful organ roaming across his thighs and belly. It was covering him in its spit, there was so much of it, warm and slimy as it clung to his skin in globs.

The creature seemed to examine him, its black lips poised an inch above his member, nostrils flaring. Its tongue was flexible, reaching out to curl around the tip of his pulsing erection and enclosing it in hot flesh.

Matt’s knees were weak, and he was short of breath, an unwelcome pleasure coursing through his body like a tingling fever as the creature drew his cock into its mouth. His member throbbed against its tongue, and he felt its teeth graze his shaft, duller than they had looked at first glance and certainly not sharp enough to cut unless force was applied. It maneuvered his erection around in its mouth, glazing it with beast drool as his exposed glans brushed against its smooth palate, its nose rubbing against his belly as it made obscene licking sounds.

He reached a hand down in a futile attempt to ward it off, finding that it didn’t pull back when he touched it. The long fur on its head was silky and soft beneath his fingers as he tried to push it away.