A Little Late For Halloween

By: Andrew Stone

I’ve been stalking the man since he parked his truck. He looked around when he stepped out of the track and sweat started to from on his brow as soon as he hit the hot, humid air. He looks around again and sniffs the air than pulls off his shirt exposing his massive, hairy chest. He’s a big guy, at least 6’3’’ and with bulk of a power lifter. His short, military-style hides his male pattern baldness well and he has a thick, gray mustache. Eyes so blue that I can see them from here and his skin is a little on the pale side and is covered in gray body hair that is so thick it might as well be fur. The big guy looks around again, adjusts his round glasses, pulls up his jeans and starts to walks in the woods. He’s not carrying any gear.

Stalking him is easy. The oppressive heat makes him sweat and soon his body is covered in sheen of sweat. His sweat-scent dances on the wind and the powerful musk gives me a hard-on. I stay down wind from him and out of sight. I’ve been living in these woods for the past month and I know every trail, every stream, and almost every tree. I move like I’ve been taught to move, like a hunter. He lumbers through the woods, stopping to look and smell at things and collecting leaves and herbs and mushroom caps. He thinks he’s alone but he’s not. I’m here, watching and waiting.

A couple of hours later, the big man stumbles onto a stream. It’s a quick, shallow stream of run off from the mountains. He looks around and I know what he is thinking. The water looks good to him, nice and cool. He looks around again and sniffs the air before bending over and unlacing his boots. He takes them off and his socks before unbuckling his jeans and pulling them off. He isn’t wearing underwear and I get a good look at his huge testicles. They are big and hanging low from the heat. I wonder how he walks with balls so big. He slowly wades into the stream before submerging under the water.

Now is the time. When he is at his most vulnerable, now is the time. I run around the big boulders between the stream and the edge of the forest hoping to surprise him. I circle around the boulder and jump down to the edge of stream and let out a fierce growl. Instead of facing the guy I’ve been stalking for the past couple of hours, I’m standing face to face with a polar bear. He roars a roar that makes my growl sound like a whimper. The solid white polar bear stares at me and lets out another roar.

I growl back at him but the fact is that a wolf can’t fight a polar bear alone. I’m a wolf, a shape-shifter actually. I can change shapes between that of a wolf and a man. All the myths are true. We really do exist. We live in the shadows of humanity waiting for our time to come again. The big guy, my friend, is a shape-shifter too. He’s a different species than me.

I look at his massive bear shape standing almost eight feet tall with claws the size of daggers fully extending and decides that he wins this game of tag. I change back to my man shape. I feel my flesh melt and flow like water and reforming into a different shape. Once the shift is done, I stand up and face the polar bear. I’m naked, mundane objects like clothing don’t survive the change. I stand just less than six feet tall and I weigh in at 220 pounds. I’m built like rugby player with bulk to hit and survive being hit but also built for sprinting. I’m hairy but no where near as hairy as my friend with a dark tan from being outside all the time and covered in scars. I like to fight. It is my nature.

“You win,” I concede.

The bear grins and his flesh melts and flows like water. In a blink of an eye, I’m standing before the guy I’ve been stalking.

“Damn straight, pup,” he says with a voice of pure bass, “You’re good but you’re not that good yet.”

He opens his arms and I jump into the water and swim to him before jumping into his arms. His massive arms pull me close to him and I wrap my legs around his waist and we kiss deep and passionate kisses. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him last. He falls backwards into the water and we continue kissing underwater until I’m out of breath and I have to push against his chest. He can hold his breath forever. I can’t. He lets me go and I float to the surface. I look around and he’s still underwater. I can feel him swimming around me. He’s a natural swimmer, quick and agile despite his size when he’s in water. He surfaces behind me and wraps his arms around me again, lifting me out of the water, and kissing the back of my neck.

“I’ve missed you so much, pup,” he tells me between kisses.

“I’ve missed you too.”

“Who’s your favorite daddy?”

“You’re my only daddy,” I tell him and he squeezes me tighter with happiness. Bears have this thing about being called daddy. I don’t know why, it must be genetic or something.

He lets goes of me and I fall into the water. “Go to land,” he tells me, “There’s some fish in here that will make a mighty fine dinner.”

I nod and start to wade to the bank and he slaps in the back playfully. Bears like to play rough, another genetic trait I guess. I sit on a big rock once I get to stream’s bank and feel the sun drying my skin. I watch him in the water. The water is his favorite place to be. It isn’t long before he is wading back to me holding two big trout that he caught with his bare hands. Certain qualities, instincts, are present in us no matter what shape we’re in. We are not part time man and part time animal. We’re animal all the time, just our outer appearance changes. Our spirit stays the same.

“Do me a favor, pup,” he says as he slaps a trout on the rock, “Fetch my knife from my pants.”

I look at him. I’m not a dog. I don’t the whole fetch thing.

He grins, “Please fetch me my knife. I’m asking nicely.”

I walk over to his jeans and search through the pockets. The only things he has in them are keys and folding knife. I toss the knife to him.

“Thanks, pup,” he says with a nod and unfolds the knife and starts to clean and prepare the fish. He looks up at me, “What have you been doing, pup?”

“Oh, you know, the same old thing,” I tell him.

He smiles, “You’re getting good, pup. I lost track of you several times in the woods. You move like a hunter.”

“I am a hunter.”

“I know, pup,” he looks at me from head to toe, “You are a warrior too. You added a few more scars to your collection, pup.”

“Just a few,” I say with a grin.

He finishes up cleaning the fish and asks me where my camp is. I remind him of his pants and boots and he says that they can stay by the stream. No one will take them this far out into the woods. We walk to the camp. It isn’t long before he’s covered in sweat again and his scent is flooding the air around him. I start to get stiff from the scent but he doesn’t say anything. We walk around naked all the time around each other. It’s just our way.

We arrive to my camp. I’ve walked into the woods with just my backpack. Everything else I made or I stole from campers that pissed me off in one way or another. I start up the fire and he finds some sticks to cook the fish on. As he works on the fish, some of his sweat drips into the fish.

He looks at me and smiles, “My secret flavoring, pup.”

I walk to a cooler I stole and pull out a beer and give it to him, “Why don’t you take a seat in the shade? I’ll finish up here.”

He smacks me on the ass playfully and smiles, “You’re always so good to me, pup.”

He lumbers onto some shade I’ve set up and I finish up setting up the fish for the fire. I stake them to the ground in the fire and let them cook. I look over to him and he has finished his beer and lay down onto his back. His legs are spread slightly apart and his balls are hanging low. I walk over to one of my coolers and grab and handful of ice. I walk over to him and kneel down by his side and hold the ice to his balls.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he moans and his back arches, “that feels so good!” He looks over at me, “You know how treat your daddy, pup.” He reaches up and grabs me and pulls me down so my head is lying on his big, muscular chest. My head moves up and down as he takes his massive breaths.

“I worry about you, pup,” he tells me in a serious tone.

“Why?”

“You’re alone a lot, pup. Your kind isn’t meant to be alone.”

“I’m the stereotypical lone wolf,” I tell him.

He pulls me closer to him. He knows my history. I’m not like other wolves he has met. Wolves are typically very clannish. I’m not. I know there are hunters that hunt our kind. They have been doing it for centuries but lately they’ve been getting better, more organized. Wolves are able to survive because of the strength of the pack. Other species of shape-shifters don’t have that advantage. Other wolves may turn a blind eye as shape-shifter blood is spilled but I won’t. I’ve been acting as an agent between the wolf clans and other shape-shifters.

We lay there for a while until the smell of the fish catches our attention and we go over and eat an early dinner. When we’re done, he takes me by my hand and leads me back to the shade. After eating, he likes to sleep. He lies down on his back again and I place my head on his chest. I reach down and clutch his balls and he grins. He likes to have his balls held when he sleeps. It isn’t long before he’s snoring.

I take a short nap but my raging boner wakes me up. He’s sweating buckets again and I’m covered in his sweat. I get up and walk to the stream and jump in. I like him but being around him makes me horny as all hell. I need to save my semen for certain Tantric rituals I need to perform. It’s going to be difficult with him around.

I need to run and check the borders of my territory. I shift to my more natural wolf shape and run. I love to be in my wolf shape. It’s black like a shadow with a blue-ish undercoat that marks me different from any other naturally born wolf. I wasn’t born a wolf. I was born a man. I lived my life normally until I was 18 than I was diagnosed with cancer. I was dying in the hospital when my godfather came to my bedside. He asked me if I wanted to live. I said yes. He asked me again if I wanted to live. I said yes again. He looked in my eyes and asked a final third time. I told him I wanted to live more than anything else in the world. He pulled down the sheets, rolled me on to my stomach and fucked me up the ass right there. It’s complicated being a shape-shifter. Genetic potential to become a shape-shifter runs in certain families but it’s a two-step process. Active shape-shifters carry a virus within their blood that activates the potential. That’s what my godfather did to me when he raped my ass. He passed along the virus that re-wrote my genetic structure and activated my potential. Over the next few weeks, I started changing. I became a shape-shifter.

By time I return to the campsite, the big guy is already awake. He walks over to me, his balls swinging between his legs and pets my head like I’m a dog. I hate to be petted and he knows that. With a blink of an eye, I shift back into my human shape. He looks at me with a grin and tries to pet my head again. He knows he’s starting trouble. It’s time to play.

I grab his wrist as he tries to pull his hand away. He’s big and strong but he’s not that fast. I’m faster. I twist his wrist and he tries to counter but I can read him like a book and know what he’s going to do next. Bears are naturally brawlers. Wolves are naturally warriors. There’s a difference. To a bear, fighting is something that they have to do. To a wolf, fighting is what we do. We don’t just like to fight. We study it. For us, it is both a science and an art form. I have black belts in jiu-jitsu, karate, American kung fu, and muy Thai.

He’s big and strong but I know how to use his mass against him. With quick side step and twist of wrist I throw him onto the ground but he isn’t just big and strong. He has experience too and that experience tells him to take me down to the ground. We wrestle and I let him mount me.

“It looks like I’m going to win, pup,” he says with a smile.

He stops smiling when he realizes that I’m smiling. I still have hold of his wrist and start to slide my legs up his body and around his head in a triangle lock. He’s big and strong but I’m a hell of a lot more flexible than he is. He realizes that he’s in trouble and stands up, pulling me up with him before slamming me back down on the ground. I don’t let go. He’s big and strong but I’m a stubborn bastard. He picks me up and slams me back down again but again I don’t let go. By this time, my legs are securely around his head and I start to crank back on his arm. I can hyperextend his elbow or I can choke him out or I can do both at the same time.

He realizes this and taps out, “You win, pup.”

I let go and roll clear, ready to run just in case he decides to attack again. I won because he didn’t get angry. If he got angry, he can punch through concrete even in human shape. The adrenalin response in bears is tremendous.

He looks at me and smiles. He looks down at my raging boner and smiles a bigger smile. Fighting makes me excited. Fighting him makes me extremely excited. I can smell his sweat all over me again. I look down at my boner and it’s huge, bigger than before. I’ve been storing a load for a while now. It’s aching to get out.

“Ready when you are, pup,” he says as he rolls over on to his stomach with his ass in the air, “You won fair and square, pup. It’s yours.”

“I can’t.”

He rolls over to look at me, “Why?”

“There are rituals that I need to perform,” I tell him. Shape-shifters are more attuned with nature and the forces that dwell within more than humans are. I’ve learned how to use that. There is a war coming and we need every weapon we can muster if we plan to survive it.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been practicing that garbage, pup,” he sounds slightly disappointed.

Bears are a superstitious lot and don’t like to tamper with the forces of nature. They depend on their size and strength and the fact that they heal rapidly from almost anything to survive. Other species don’t have such gifts. I heal about three times faster than a normal human but I couldn’t survive being hit buy a train. I’ve seen a bear survive being hit by one, with little scarring afterwards. Their recuperative powers are renowned among our kind.

I get up and start to walk away, “I have to jump in the stream or something.”

“Pup,” he calls out after me. I hear him running to my side and he places his big hand on my shoulder, “I’m sorry, pup. I didn’t mean to sound like a bastard but you know how I feel about that. Don’t be mad at me, pup. I’m just a big, old, dumb bear.”

I place my hand on top of his, “I’m not mad.”

“Are you sure? I know how you like to brood, pup.”

“I’m sure.”

“Why don’t you tell me about your ritual?”

I sigh and turn to face him, “I’ve been purifying an area for a lunar cycle now. I’ve been storing my sperm for some time now too. When I’m readying, I’m going to release my energy into that area than suck that energy back in hoping to ignite my charkas and whatever enlightenment comes along with it.”

He nods, understanding what I’ve been saying, “The problem I have is nature isn’t what it used to be, pup. Even here, there are signs of pollution. There is risk of corruption.”

“I’ve been purifying the area for some time now.”

“I know, pup. But I would be more comfortable if you tapped into a more pure source.”

I look at him confused and I look around, “Where am I going to get a more pure source?”

“Me.”

“What?”

“Listen me out, pup. I’ve got energy in me enough to heal me from anything, except silver of course. If you can tap into that energy maybe it can boost your own healing talents or it might be enough to tap into the enlightenment you are looking for. Either way, we both win. You get then energy you need and I get the peace of mind that you’re not going to so gonzo afterwards, pup.”

I look at him. He’s serious, “I have to be in wolf shape.”

“I know, pup.”

It’s okay to fuck around with each other wearing our human shape but its taboo when we’re in our true shapes. Species don’t cross fuck.

“I can’t ask that.”

“You’re not asking, pup. I’m offering.”

“Why?”

“Why,” he repeats, “You’ve helped me more times that I can count. You saved my life when the hunters tagged me with a silver slug in the knee. I owe you, pup. It’s time I paid you back.”

“I can’t.”

“Hey,” he almost yells, “Mind your elders, pup. If I’m offering you’re going to accept it.”

“I can’t.”

“Are you stuttering, pup?” He places a hand on the side of my face gently, “This is you were talking about. I’m not letting a wolf I’ve just met plow me up the ass. I love you, pup.”

He knows I can’t say it back. I nod and take him by his hand and lead him to the place I’ve been purifying. It’s between three oak trees. It took me some time to find it but I was excited when I finally found it. I carved runes into the bark of the trees and asked the spirits under the full moon light to guide me with my task. For a lunar month, I sat vigil in my place and meditated, getting it ready and feeling the flow of the energy in this place.

I lead him to center of the place and lay him down on his back and tell him to wait until I return and feel the flow of things. He laughs but nods anyways. I return a short time later with stakes and ropes. He closes his eyes and I ask him again if this is okay.

“You lead, pup. I’ll follow.”

He knows that he had to yield to me for this work. I hammer in the stakes and he lets me tie him spread eagle between them. He could break free if he wanted to. This action is symbolic. I stand over him and look at him. He nods and knows what has to come next. I have to mark him and his energy as mine. I force a stream of urine out of my hard-on and it hits him in the chest. He grimaces but he doesn’t say anything. That has to be killing him. For a bear to submit to a wolf in a way like this, the shame must be almost unbearable. We usually just wrestle around in our human shapes and let certain body parts slip into each other’s body parts. But this is different.

I walk around and kneel between his legs. I take a hold of his shaft and start to suck on his huge, hairy balls. I feel him grow harder in my hand and he starts to moan. He loves to have his balls sucked. I suck on if for a while. It’s the size of a damn apple. I try to suck one of his testicles into my mouth and I gnaw on it a little. He moans more and more. I start to suck his cock. I taste his pre-cum and I pull it out of my mouth and jerk his cock for a while until it is slick with fluid. I crawl over him until we are face to face.

“I love you, pup.” His eyes are locked with mine.

I kiss him than I move so I’m straddling his chest and he opens his mouth and I start to fuck his mouth. He’s a good cock-sucker. He loves to suck cock. I keep fucking until I’m at the edge of loosing it than I pull out and stand up so I can line my ass with his cock. I squat down and take his swollen manhood into me. He moans as his cock slides into me. I keep going until it’s all in me. That’s the least I can for him. I know there is worse to come.

I start to work his cock, sliding it up and down while clenching my ass. He’s looking at me the whole time. I can see it in his eyes. He wants to put his arms around me. He’s very physical in that way when we have sex but it can’t be like that this time. I work his cock and I can feel it rubbing my prostate and my cock is dripping a mess over his gut. He’s straining against his bonds but he’s not pulling them out of the ground. I bounce faster and faster and he’s moaning more and more. He’s struggling not to lose control but he can’t fight it anymore. I feel him shoot inside of me. He roars and bucks, trying to throw me off of him but I ride him. I can feel his cock spasm inside of me and I keep riding him until milk him dry. I can feel his sperm filling me up. It drives me over the edge and I feel the power of orgasm build inside of me. I look down at my swollen cock and I grab the base of it with a vice grip just before I’m about to shoot. My sperm can’t shoot out so it shoots back inside of me. I feel all the energy in my pelvis build and overflow and start to radiate up my spine lighting up all of my charka points along the way. The energy reaches my brain and fires off all of my synapse like the fourth of fucking July.

For a moment, I am consumed by the light.

When I regain my senses, I realize that I am floating above my body. I have astral projected. I look around and I can see, more like feel all of the patterns around me and I absorb all of it. I look down and I watch as my body shifts to its wolf shape by itself, removed of rational thought it only has its instinct to follow. My wolf shape looks bigger and meaner than it has ever before. With its sharp teeth, it breaks the ropes binding him to the ground. I give him credit, a lot of credit; he doesn’t try to run from my big, bad wolf shape. It would only hunt him down anyways. He rolls over and lets the wolf mount him. He yells, screams in pain as the huge, animal cock rips into him. His shape blurs for a moment but too much of his energy have been drained from the ritual. My wolf shape pounds his ass than howls when he shoots his load.

I black out and when I wake up I’m back in my body. It is night time but I’m seeing like it is daytime. I always had night vision but it’s stronger now. All of senses are stronger. I feel stronger. I have changed. I can feel it.

I hear his breathing and I walk to him. He’s a little pale. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll heal.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says with a tired voice, “I saw you, pup, when you were floating above.”

“You saw that?”

He nods his head yes, “We were linked, I guess, for a moment, pup. It was beautiful. You were beautiful, pup.”

I look at the pool of blood under him. I cradle his head and plant a kiss on his lips, “Do you still love me, daddy.”

He smiles, “I love you, pup.”

I can’t say it in return. A wolf can only love another wolf. That is the way of things.