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My name is Rex. Or rather, it is now. At birth, I was Vince Foreman, and until a few years ago, I was an everyday electrician in West Virginia. One evening, a drive home from work changed my life. I was on my way back to my forty-acre farm outside Charleston, just as the sun set beyond the mountains to the west. I hopped out of my van to open the front gate, and was rushed by what seemed a blond, furry Peterbilt. I hit the gravel, dazed, my head throbbing. It took me a moment to realize the thing that had slammed into me was still on top of me. I felt a set of massive claws dig into my wrists, pinning my arms to the ground. All I recall after that are the teeth… And somewhere in the ether, a breath away from the next world, I made a choice. Faced with the prospect of death, or the waking nightmare of lycanthropy, I hastily chose the latter, and I would do it again. The following weeks saw a hellish change in my body and mind. I was split between my mortal conscience and a new, bestial instinct that grew more forceful with every passing hour. The nights brought this on more profoundly, and more than once I found myself out in the middle of my forest, or even on land owned by some neighbor, with the taste of raw meat in my mouth, fur under my fingernails and in my teeth. Gradually I learned to cope with the primal instincts, both for food and for sex. I learned to voluntarily shift between humanity and my new canine form, and tried returning to a peaceful existence. What came next, I could never have prepared for. It had been two months since the attack. Sixty-three nights, two full moons had passed, and though it was a pain cleaning up the shredded rabbit remains and pretending to search for my neighbors’ missing cattle, I was managing just fine. The time came to find a woman – a HUMAN woman – to spend some time with. I headed to town with a few buddies, trolled our favorite bar, and ran across a pretty young thing that I couldn’t pass up. A few drinks and some smooth talk got her into the car with me. Stupid girl… running off with a stranger into the middle of nowhere. We got back to my place and never made it to the bedroom. I maneuvered her to the couch as we pulled each other’s clothes off in a fit of passion, and I had her there, in the most ferocious, bestial manner. It could have ended there, and I wish that it had, but the hormones pulsing through me wouldn’t surrender control. I kept her pinned beneath my body, kissing every tender curve, until the kisses became bites, and the bites became harder, and harder, until they began to tear out flesh in large chunks. I scarcely heard her screaming, and before long, there was no more screaming to be heard. I had slaughtered the poor girl with my bare hands. I backed away from the mutilated corpse, disgusted with myself, and I bolted out the door, taking my canine form and running with all my strength. This girl had family, and she had friends. There were witnesses who’d seen her leave with me. I ran until I found myself in the city, and I wandered for several days, scrounging the garbage for food. Though I was disgusted, I was too afraid to take my human form for fear that they might be searching for me, and I knew that if I got too hungry, I would attack another innocent human. For the most part, I was ignored. Now and then, the odd cop would slow down and try calling me, and one punk kid tossed a beer bottle my way. Still, after a week of this living, I was nearly ready to turn myself in. Then one night, just as I left the alley I’d made my hiding place, I saw a woman. She looked like she’d stepped out of the nineteenth century: knee-high boots, brown leather pants, a white blouse and deep red hair flowing from beneath her wide-brimmed hat. On top of that, a large, polished silver crucifix hung between her supple, tempting breasts. "Aw, what a sweet little thing! Come here puppy." She knelt, holding out a hand. I tried to back away, but I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but inch nearer. Once I was in reach, she produced a bit of jerky from her pocket, and I snapped it up greedily. That’s how she did it without my noticing. When I finished the bit of meat, I realized I had a snug chain around my neck. I pulled away, looking around to make sure we were alone, then tried to change my form. I couldn’t turn completely human as the chain dug into my neck, and all I could choke out in English was, ‘Human… human!" before changing back. She just smiled warmly, reached to scratch behind my ears and whispered. "Oh, sweety, I know what you are. I’ve been watching you. My name is Relena, and I make my living hunting your kind. I intended to kill you after the incident with that girl from the bar, but you seem fairly benign. Of course, I can’t allow you to go free, and you wouldn’t be safe out there either. So, tell you what; you become my pet, live with me, and obey my commands, and I won’t destroy you." At this point she stood and offered her hand again. "If you accept my offer, lick my hand and come with me." Who was this freak? A werewolf hunter? She’d been watching me? What’s more, she knew what I’d done… I had little choice. I cautiously licked her hand, and she led me to her pickup truck, instructing me to get into the bed. She took off, and before long it seemed she was taking me back to my home, and indeed, she drove past the gate, the very place this nightmare had begun. She drove for nearly an hour, deep into the mountains. Her home was a palatial log cabin on three hundred acres, and she took me inside, gave me real human food and cold water, brushed out my filthy fur. As she sat beside me, I lay my head on her leg and dozed. The next morning, my collar was removed and I was allowed to become human. "All right then, feel better? You still need a bath, but that can wait. And what is your name?" "I’m Vince. Just what is all this? How do you know about me?" "Well," She huffed, a false pout on her lips, "I’d think a thank-you was in order, rather than twenty-questions. Besides which, I already told you. I’m Relena, I am a hunter, and you are a werewolf. Okay, to put it succinctly, you’re a were-coyote, but werewolf is the generally accepted term. Unless you prefer ‘Lycanthrope’." "Well thanks for the meal and, uhh, for not killing me? Now what do you plan on doing to me? If you’re a werewolf hunter, and you don’t plan on killing me…" "Well Vince, I – no, I don’t care for that. Rex is much better, maybe not too original for a canine, but I think it suits you. Well, Rex, I intend to make you my puppy. You will stay here with me, help with things around the house, et cetera. Your nose and ears will help me find my targets easier, and on top of that, you’ll, umm… be my ‘companion’ from time to time. That sound good?" It sounded fine to me. Her shapely body had me panting as I stood, nude of course and rock hard. I could only nod as she looked my body over. "That reminds me, honey. I can’t risk bringing more of your kind into existence, and lycanthropes are notoriously hard to control once their base urges overtake them. My colleagues have all given me the same advice once I told them I am keeping you." At this point, she gently pushed me back against the wall, standing on her tiptoes to give my lips a playful kiss, looking up into my eyes with a serene, superior expression. "I have to neuter you, Rex." I stood dumbly for a moment, and it slowly dawned on me just what it meant. If she hadn't had my back to the wall, I'd have bolted. As it was, I shoved her out of my way and went scrambling for the driveway. I hadn't gotten twenty feet when a lasso drew taught around my neck, jerking me back onto my ass on the gravel. I took my morphic form and fought like hell against the rope, ripping at it with clawed hands. Relena straddled me and put a silver chain around my neck as I thrashed, trying and failing to buck her off. She spoke to me in what I recognized as Latin, the silver chain began to feel much heavier, and soon my body was numb and limp on the ground, a warm, soothing feeling coming over me. I couldn't move a muscle except to lift my head, and my lungs barely drew air at all, let alone enough to scream. I watched as she massaged my dick from its sheath, stroking its length as it remained limp in her hand. She then let it rest on my belly and tied a nylon cord around the base of my sac, cinching it down slowly. "Can you feel that? Are you in pain?" Her question was sincere as she looked down at me. I shook my head, letting out a pitiful whimper. She sighed, cinching the cord down as tight as she could before doing the same with another cord a quarter-inch lower on my sac. "Good. Hun, I don't want to cause you pain, and I'm not going to bother saying this is for your own good. This is the only way I'll be allowed to keep you. Otherwise, another hunter'll kill you and I'll be a pariah among my colleagues. Besides, I have the public welfare and my own safety to consider." She leaned forward and kissed my nose as I let out another whimper, and licked her cheek. She smiled and nodded affirmatively, sitting up again and unsheathing a short hunting knife from a pouch on her belt. My eyes widened at the gut hook on the back. I'd gutted my share of deer in my time, and I prayed she wasn't planning a similar operation on me. She looked down at me, smiling and shaking her head as if she knew what I was thinking, and lifted my swollen balls in her hand. She played with them, rolled them around in her hand, twisted them several times, squeezed and massaged them. I was aroused at the sight of her playing, and I was fearfully excited by the idea of this gorgeous woman taking my masculinity as a prize. Then, placing the knife underneath, between the two cords she'd tied on, she sliced cleanly through my flesh and I watched my full, furry scrotum fall free of my body and into her tender hand. My head fell back and I closed my eyes, whining. She set them aside and carefully stitched me up, humming a sweet, low song. When she was finished, she rubbed a numbing gel on the wound and recited a few more words in Latin that allowed me to move my body again. She sat beside me and I curled up, laying my head in her lap and huffing, defeated. She pet me with one hand, lifting up a golden medallion in the other, letting me read: "Relena's puppy - Forever" And on the reverse: "Rex" She reached down to the chain around my neck and clipped the medallion to it. "There we go, sweet puppy. All set." She stood and led me inside, picking up my balls along the way. That night, as I lay on the couch in my coyote form, I smelled something frying in the kitchen; something… good. Before long she came to me, holding a plate with two egg-shaped objects, three inches thick and four inches long. I knew at a glance that they were my balls. She sat down by me, stroked my fur softly and hand-fed me one of my own nuts, eating the other herself. She squealed as if she really savored the taste, and in fact, it was delicious, filled with the very last load of cum I had ever produced. I licked my master's hand and lay my head in her lap, not realizing my tail had been wagging. I had accepted the idea of living as a neutered pet. It's been over a year since then, and I've been happier than ever. With my balls gone, the violent instincts are much less powerful. I serve Relena as a hunting dog, a bodyguard, a servant and, as she promised, a lover. I haven't had an orgasm since I was neutered, and I don't crave them anymore. I love the sensation of sex and hearing Relena's moans and screams in my supersensitive ears as her fingernails run through the fur of my back and tail. As for my scrotum, Relena made it into a furry pouch, in which she keeps treats to reward me for being obedient When other hunters come to visit, I serve them as Relena tells me. The women all seem fond of me, and love to see me nude in my morphic form. They commend Relena on her feat of domesticating a werewolf, and many of them now want a pet of their own. |