A werewolf and the tentacle demon get loose and run wild.
CHAPTER 14: WOLF
The phone woke her up. Claire sighed, another night of sleep cut short. She picked up the receiver and put it to her ear. "Hello."
"Dr. Thompson, it’s Colonel Jeffers. We've got an inbound lycanthrope for you."
"Oh really? Haven't seen one of those in a while," Claire said. "Okay, I'll meet you there." Of course real werewolves bear little resemblance to the popular Hollywoodized version of the lore (and vampire lore was even more inaccurate). The cryptid shape-shifting gene had somehow attached itself to a retrovirus, and then it managed to pick up a large portion of the genome of a predatory animal. The wolf, naturally, but in other areas of the world the process had duplicated itself with a few big cats, giving rise to African legends of werepanthers and the like.
Now, certainly wolves are nocturnal predators, but the full moon has no bearing on anything, just like bats and other bloodsucking fauna aren't harmed by sunlight and show up in mirrors perfectly well. Werewolfism usually manifests itself in an infected individual as a sort of sleep disorder. Rather than a human sleep walking, they would become the beast, go out prowling, and wake up in the morning remembering almost nothing, like a dream. More rarely it worked on an emotional trigger, similar to the Incredible Hulk of comic book fame. Extreme agitation, anger, fear or pain could bring on the transformation. The Institute scientists had wondered if a man afflicted long enough could ever attain conscious control over his wolf side, but no example of this had yet been found. Once they developed a treatment to block the virus and the military trackers figured out what signs to look for in media and police reports for an active werewolf, none ever lasted long enough to even attempt that sort of control.
A new werewolf popped up on their radar every now and then, so a supply of the counteragent was kept ready to go in cold storage in the Institute lab. One injection and the wolfman would be "cured", although procedure was to keep them overnight for observation before sending them home with a warning to never talk about what happened to them with anybody, save the government-provided counselor. The treatment had to be re administered every six months to keep the virus in check, something that was strictly overseen by the military. The afflicted also could never donate blood, though fortunately the virus was not sexually transmitted nor passed to offspring, and saliva-borne only while in wolf form.
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Claire had stopped in the lab to prepare the syringe of counteragent while Jeffers and his men delivered their gurney to Containment Room 2. Suddenly she heard shots being fired and a loud roar. Shit. Those idiots, she thought they'd learned their lesson about giving an extra dose of tranquilizer to the ones that look like they could rip your head off. Now they'd fucked it up royally. If they were lucky, they would manage to pump the creature full of enough bullets to bring it down before it got loose in the building, and she would have a corpse to deal with rather than a catch and release. Failing that, her best chance to survive intact was to get to the armory and gear up as soon as the injection was ready.
She emerged from the lab into the hallway and made a dash for the gun supply. She stopped short as the werewolf leapt out from around the corner at the end of the hall and turned to face her. Claire's scent must have led it straight to her. Bloodthirsty eyes stared at her over a furry snout. Wolfmen stand erect like the human they turn from, but the legs are restructured in a way that greatly enhances running speed. Outrunning a werewolf is not an option.
"Shit!" Claire hissed, then started slowly backing away. The werewolf followed, walking towards her. Claire started moving faster, then turned and started running, and the wolf followed suit. The end of the hallway she was running towards had a security door though. There wasn't time to get through it, it may as well have been a dead end. She realized she was going to die. She held up her arms to brace her sudden stop against the door, then spun around and dropped to the floor, arms still up in an instinctual protective position even though they weren't going to do any good. The werewolf was right in front of her now, she saw it pounce, leaping into the air with sharp claws forwards and its mouth, full of sharper teeth, wide open. She shut her eyes and cringed in preparation for the jaws that were about to clamp down into her flesh.
A second went by. Then another. She should be screaming in pain by now. She opened her eyes. The deadly jaws snapped at nothing but air mere inches away from her, while the wolf snarled in frustration at being denied its prey. She realized it couldn't reach her for some reason. Her eyes looked to the side and saw a familiar tentacle wrapped around the wolf's furry wrist, pulling its arm back. In fact both arms and both legs were restrained by tentacles. Another tentacle circled the monster's midsection, pulled tight, and plucked it off the ground into the air. "Gruthsorik!" she called out in grateful surprise, finally having processed why she wasn't dead.
"Thank Satan I reached you in time," Gruthsorik said, visibly relieved.
"But... how did you...?" Claire stammered.
"After the gunfire stopped, wolfy here broke down the door into my room and tried to attack me," the demon said. "Oh, you're a feisty one! It's actually difficult to keep you spread!" Claire could see that the werewolf was putting up quite a fight. Gruthsorik wasn't losing his grip, but was evenly matched in the tug of war between limbs and tentacles. She watched as another tentacle disappeared into the wolf's furry crotch. The beast roared in protest.
"It's a female!" Claire realized.
"Of course she is. You didn't know?" Gruthsorik said. "Anyway, when she discovered she couldn't get to me she started to attack my cell with the door she had smashed in. She was actually making progress, but she gave up and took off down the hallway. I managed to finish the job and followed her. This is incredible! I'm getting sheer hunger and rage off of her, nothing else. And yet it's somehow faint, like it's behind a wall or something." Another tentacle maneuvered in under the wolf's tail and entered her asshole. She roared again.
"The human consciousness is obviously submerged when the werewolf is active. Maybe you need that acting as a conduit when you feed," Claire said. Things like fear, pain, and lust are lower brain functions common to most of the animal kingdom. But if Gruthsorik was unable to tap into that directly, it explained his limited choice of prey. "That's why you only attack humans. It wouldn't work on animals." She couldn't keep her eyes off the werewolf as it was raped by the tentacles. It was probably the most unlikely thing she would ever see in a lifetime of unlikely things. The wolf was actually struggling a little less now, and its snarling had settled into a regular rhythm. Then she threw her head back and howled.
"That's a good girl," Gruthsorik said. "And here I thought we were done learning new things about me. If you'd asked me about it before, I would have just said that only human girls are sexy enough."
"What about her?" Claire asked.
"Nah. Are you kidding? She's a real dog. Woof woof." They both smiled at that. However, just then the wolf began to change. The snout shrank back into a normal human nose and chin. The large, pointed predator's ears returned to a small and rounded shape. Her tail vanished back into her rear and her animalistic digitigrade feet returned to normal. The roars and snarls gave way to screams and moans. The gray fur covering her body faded away, leaving a beautiful young woman. "I take it back, she's very fuckable after all," Gruthsorik said. Her screams became muffled as a tentacle dove into her mouth. Not long after that, her body shook as she came, followed by Gruthsorik, who gave a roar of his own and filled and sprayed the former wolfgirl with his cum. The woman whimpered and promptly passed out, and Gruthsorik laid her down on the floor. Claire wiped a spot on her arm clean, pulled the syringe from her pocket, and administered the treatment.
With the excitement over, Claire leaned back against the wall and started to process the enormity of the situation. "You... you saved me. Thank you," she said, sounding astonished.
"How could I do otherwise? You've been so nice to me here. I would have hated seeing you torn up like those soldiers," Gruthsorik replied.
"Oh God, the soldiers!" Claire said. "If any of them survived they need medical attention immediately. I need to go help them!" She stood up and started towards the Containment wing, then stopped short. She had just realized something. She turned back to Gruthsorik. "You have to leave now, don't you," she said, crestfallen. Now that he was out of the cell, the rest of the doors and the fence outside wouldn't be able to hold him in.
Gruthsorik stepped closer and got down on one knee to speak to her face to face. "I wish... that I could have stayed here... with you, for a long, long time."
"Me too. But I won't be here forever, while you don't age, and you may never have this good an opportunity to escape again," Claire said regretfully. Her retirement was so far off that she hadn't even thought about what it meant for him. Her replacement might not be so accommodating, or possibly not even a woman. Odds were he would end up headed for the dissection table, or worse. She would have protested to no avail and then probably would have done something stupid like trying to stage an escape for him, and they probably would have been ready for it, dooming Claire as well as Gruthsorik. No, he had to take the opportunity now while it was available.
Gruthsorik put his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. "Claire Thompson, I will remember you fondly, always."
"And I you," she replied wistfully. A long moment passed between them, then the demon stood.
"Go to them, they need you," he said. Claire nodded and ran down the hallway. Before turning the corner she stopped to look back. He was already gone. Only the cum-covered girl on the floor remained.
Continued in Chapter 15: Houseguest
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