Wednesday
21:09 – 00:00
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“You lost control.”
My hand twitches as I hear the voice on the other end. The crackling distortions caused by the old cabling makes my ears twitch uncomfortably. I stand at the corner next to the Quail apartments, my finger idly running along the metal braiding of the phone cord, leaving it painted in red.
“I have it under…” I steady myself “I did what I had to.”
I hate the shaking in my voice. My lips are still pulled up into a snarl, my breath is condensing against the stainless-steel console of the public phone, my free ear twitching and turning to scout for any errant footsteps outside. There is a pause from the other end of the line.
I can hear her judging me.
A soft rustling is heard, then the sound of unfolding paper. The words in my ears are concerned.
“Where are you right now?”
The question is unwarranted. Where am I? What does it matter, you stupid creature! She is dead, I fucked her to death, I ate her flesh, I am finally at ease and-
“You don’t even know, do you?”
A loud, distorted sigh pierces my ears. My eyes are dry, I forgot to blink again. My left hand clutches the phone cord harshly, it is too narrow in diameter to properly provide resistance and I feel my claws dig into my pawpads as a result. I press it against the console as my tail dusts across the dirty diamond plate on the floor. “Listen, Goat; it does not matter where I am. I finally found her! It was the most delicious encounter I had in the last decade, you stupid slut, I guarantee you, I-“
“Is she dead?”
What an idiotic question! Can’t this godforsaken Caprine not see the greatness which has unfolded today?
“Yes, she is! I fucked her, I raped her pretty face in two and made sure her own mother won’t recognize what is left of her! She is everywhere! From the house to the driveway, all rolled out like her guts.” Another pause. I can tell the Goat is calculating her words. But nothing she says can change what I accomplished.
“Fine. Tell me what happened.”
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The night is cold.
I am standing in front of her house, lucid like I had not felt in months. Palm fronds brush across my back and my heated groin. My breath condenses, I can see the wafts of steam hover about, illuminated by the street light, like tiny nebula in the surrounding dark. The street is badly maintained, what little light the old street lamp manages to pour onto it is barely enough to even reach the opposite sidewalk. Two large trees loom over the driveway leading up to the garage, a lone flagpole protrudes from the wall perpendicular to the entrance door.
Inside is the deer. I can feel her heartbeat, imagine her scent. It lingers in the air, be it real or my imagination, I may not tell. But it matters little. My nostrils flare up, drawing in my second, third, maybe fifteenth breath, I wouldn’t be able to say. Waiting out here is a pain in my loins, an ache in my ankles. I cannot bear the thought of simply walking away again like the other nights.
I had spied out the location for days now. Nights spent trailing around the place in look for an opening that would grant me an opportunity. She had noticed something was coming, I am sure. Any time she perks those ears when buying her coffee in the morning, when walking outside on the streets as the sun was passing the horizon; any time the rustling of leaves sound harsher than the wind can muster; whenever I am looking into her windows from afar. She knows. She had never seen me, but she knows.
And as such, my endeavor is a risky one. I never hunt in tandem, there is no one here to assist. Sable does not even know I am here, heaven forbid. The amount of work it would create were I to be caught would be immense. Modern forensics and data bases have largely eroded any justification for my antics. But the thrill of the hunt never leaves me. It is something I desire, something I need, it cannot be replaced by the plays in the castle. No social gathering, no matter how elaborate is able to inject the adrenaline into my veins the same way. Out in the wild, hunched over, naked, with only my nose and my loins to tell my next move.
I look up into the sky. The moon is rising steadily. A waning crescent, no clouds, it’s white light casting the street and the short grass on her lawn in an ominous shade of blue. My nose twitches as I finally begin to make my move. The plantar balls of my feet feel every crack in the asphalt, every errant piece of gravel and sand strewn across it. My senses are heightened to fantastic degrees, I can see all around me, know every leave the wind is turning, every sliver of grass brushing my ankles. The air is filled with the scent of freshly cut shrubs, the deer has taken care of the bushes on her front lawn, bringing them down enough to let her see outside the windows again.
And a Wolf inside.
My eyes squint as I peer inside; white, translucent drapes and the dark interior make it difficult to gauge anything, even with my heightened senses. I see shapes resembling her, something sitting at the small dinner table, hunched over her phone, but it is a ruse. My bounty is in bed, wrapped in covers like a little present to tear open and shove my snout inside like a child on Christmas eve. I lean forward, across the bushes, feeling the cut branches peak through my fur uncomfortably as I do. Fur is getting stuck on errant branches, leaving behind my mark once again. A little smile crosses my muzzle as I slowly climb across the shrubbery and hook my claws underneath the window.
I remember when I began to draw circles around the little hind, I had brushed by these bushes many times. I can still grasp my scent from the leaves, just faintly. It is all over the lawn, just a waft of it in the air. I can sense she isn’t asleep. She has likely not slept for days.
I pull upwards with as little force as I can muster, the old wooden frame creaking in protest against the small metal clasp holding it in place on the inside. My shoulders tense up, my biceps flex as I steadily continue to push until I can finally hear the clasp snap. Ears perked, I follow the sound of the errant piece of metal click across the kitchen floor, the linoleum dampening the impact, but it may as well have been a gunshot to the two of us. I pause for just a moment, then push the Window upwards until the gap is large enough to fit the beast.
My head is first to enter, followed by my hands, steadily pulling myself across the window sill and down onto the floor. The cheap flooring flares up under my weight, I can hear the worn glue crisp as the laminate bunches where my weight is most apparent. I slide through, my loins leaving a streak of clear liquid across the sill, drooping down the light blue wall… if I wasn’t aware of what is to come, I’d be concerned over leaving evidence.
I remain on the floor for a couple more seconds, then stand up and close the window. By this point, my weight is making the floor squeak and I make no more amends to conceal my presence. She already knows I am here.
A soft squeak has come from the bedroom. That distinct vocalization only deer will utter. I feel my body tremble. My hands ball to fists, I can feel the nails dig into my hand pads, my flews grow wet as my mouth salivates… my self-control is slipping with every step I take towards the bedroom.
I feel dazed and drunk, every little of my feet sends shivers up my spine, radiates through me, the impacts ripple in my core like my heels were heavy as lead. And then I see her.
Sitting there, upright in her bed, her hands clutching the blanked against her chest. Pillows surrounding her like a defensive fort, no doubt pulled towards her body as fear gripped her minutes ago. Her eyes are wider than mine could ever hope to be, her ears are stiff and spread like the wings of a bird. And the look on her face is one of unspeakable terror.
Fear. Primal and undiluted, the kind only the pairing of Lupine and Cervine is able to produce.
Moments pass. Her nostrils twitch, mine flare. Her head twitches, mine sinks. I slowly lower myself down, my hands touching the floor and I can feel my back rising into a grotesque hunch. My fur bristles up, every hair raising into stiff peaks as I feel a guttural growl well up in my vocal cords. It feels instinctual, I cannot control it and by the time it escapes my muzzle, it is followed by a harsh flow of saliva that hit the floor like a wet towel.
Her expression grows more mortified and her hooved digits clutch the fabric in a fit of helplessness. A little deer staring in the face of doom. I can only guess what her thoughts might be. But they hardly matter.
My brain is swimming in a flood of endorphin and ecstasy, my back raises once again, my muscles tense, sinews pushing in my digitigrades and with a feral bark escaping my jaws and I lunge forward.
I hit the bed, my hands on the wall, claws contracting, fingers clenching, digging into the many posters that line it, my legs barely fitting on the canvas I plan to paint this work of mine on! She gasps, turning her head, wanting to close her eyes, but can’t. Instead, she stares at me, wide-eyed and full of fear. Trembling and shivering with such intensity, I see her head twitch like a spastic very now and then.
And it sets my loins on fire.
My cock is already hard, having reared its smooth head from the sheath, standing proud and leaking, my juices soaking her bedsheets as I too begin to tremble. My head lowers down and begins to taste her. Tongue rolled across her cheeks to feel the heat of her flesh and savor the salted taste of her sweat and tears.
It hurts, you little hind, can’t you see?
My desire for you is making me cramp up inside, it forms a knot in my stomach and my chest.
Whatever follows is your fault.
Your doing.
I cannot be held responsible for my nature, for what you force upon me.
My feelings, my desires - this all is you.
I linger on my thoughts for just a moment more. Then I bite.
My head jerks forward, jaws clamping around her shoulder as I sink my teeth into it and she beings to shriek. Shriek, not cry. The sound like a bleat but morbid and distorted, piercing my ears with its high tones and making me burn with desire. Like a gust of wind stoking the flames of a furnace. I press down, my jaws clamping with all the force I can muster and spewing blood across the bed. Then things begin to accumulate and I lose track of where I am.
Shoulders split when I bite them. I can feel bones under my molars, cracking like sweet pieces of jaggery. I can feel skin rip under the draw of my claws and flesh flay apart as I dig and dig.
Dig into her body, like into a meal. The taste of raw flesh is as disgusting as it is sweet. The metallic taste of blood that rushes past my lips and tickles my tongue. We fight, we kick, both of us trying to escape the nest of a bed she has dug herself into. I cannot tell how long it takes me to rip apart the blanket but at some stage there are feathers joining the mix.
Stained, covered in blood, sticking to my fur and hers like macabre war marks of an ancient tribe. Her screams pierce the night but they sound dull and meaningless in the small room. All the shuffling and commotion, all drowned out and swallowed by the many pillows, the carpet, the torn bedsheets… it seems to mock the severity of the situation from afar, but my mind pays it little attention. It will be afterthoughts when I recite the events on a later date while getting my dick sucked by another.
Can you feel it, little hind? How your shoulder muscle is torn and flayed as I finally rip my jaws free of it. Having shaken my head from side to side like a feral beast, each ripple, each violent jerk tearing apart sinews and fibers, peeling skin from muscle? Or is it all drowned out in the fear that has gripped your body? I will not allow you to pass out from it. I will dismantle you.
I perch over my prey, looking down at her with desire to dive my nose into her, to dive back into the nest of gore and blood I have created. She is twitching and heaving, her chest raising in rippling intervals from crying and hyperventilation, the matrass is soaked in blood to the point of being squishy. I grip her neck and position myself, the enormous shaft of mine pressing into her folds.
Is she a naked sleeper? No… no, I remember now. My claws attempting to pull off her panties but missing over and over. I clawed at her loins, tearing the fabric through some errant stroke and ripping her in the process. Her midriff is riddled with deep lacerations, her inner thighs red and stained, cuts running alongside the little cunt of hers. Trembling and hot like molten iron, I can feel her lips burn against the lower side of my shaft.
Words want to form in my mouth. I want to spit them at her, demean her, let her know that this is how it was meant to be. But I cannot formulate any. I cannot fathom to speak anymore and so I let my actions do so for me.
And she knew what was about to happen. She is crying, pleading, the softest hint at words sputtered from her lovely muzzle. Why do you try and ruin the moment, bleater? You should not talk if I cannot.
Her voice grows shrill once more when I push myself into her. I am too wide. Too rich in girth to make it fit, so I need to press hard, exert all the force my loins can muster while I push down onto her midriff to help the cause. She bunches up, folds of flesh appearing on her body like she was but a pillow and her bleats begin to distort into a terrifying cacophony of pain and terror. But it sounds so sweet to my ears, I want to hear more for it.
You gilded hind, pour your voice into my ears.
You are an angel.
I feel her insides scrape across my length, she is so tight, I make her inner canal move along with me and the resulting rutting is one of deep discomfort. Short and hectic, quick bursts of pleasure, riddled with the pain of unlubricated insertions. Is she wet? I cannot tell. The blood and my copious excretions will need to do. As I hunch over her, trying to push into her body, her cries slowly but surely begin to vanish. Her screams die down until they are but tiny exhales, nothing more than simple harsh gusts of air forced out of her lungs by my body pressing down on her. Insignificant little moans of pain for each thrust of mine.
Minutes pass, then more. Time is no longer of the essence and blends together. I cannot stand to keep track and lose myself in the moment until I can feel the lust flare up in my lower spine. My eyes widen and I begin to whine and weep. Not for her sake but because I know it will be over soon. I dread having to leave her flesh.
I do not want to be separated.
Why do you do this to me?
Can’t you see you are breaking my heart?
And as the final pushes occur, my balls aching, my knot swelling up and filling with blood to painful degrees, I realize that I cannot bear to end it here. I must rob myself of the pleasure. It cannot be over just yet!
My howl pierces the quiet of the room as I release. Seed is being pumped up the little hind, little more than a bag to receive my most intimate gift. I can feel it bloat her womb, fill it within mere seconds, ropes of cum battering the upper end of her womb and causing the hind to convulse and shudder. Her hands flail about, her dull hooves scrape my arms and as I muster the strength to pull out of her, she turns her head and begins to vomit. I see her stretch her neck, the guttural sounds of her belching up the last meal are heard, wet chunks of food spill across the blood-soaked bed as my seed is draped across her midriff.
Any other moment, I would have enjoyed the display. Watching the degrading show of liquids of all kind spill over her body and remind her of her place… but I can’t hold back any longer. I need to let her indulge in the most carnal of desires. And so, I sink my teeth into her anew. Into her right ankle, right above the hoof. Screams are muffled by her barfing as I drag her off of the bed. She turns and revolts, her hooves desperately flailing across the bed as to not be dragged along by me.
But why?
Anger flares up inside me in an instant. Why are you fighting it? This is what you were meant to be! I drag her out of the room and into the kitchen, the flailing and crying cunt is reaching for anything she can grasp, kicking her legs about and trying to escape. Ungrateful. Unwilling. She shows no appreciation for the gift I am bestowing upon her.
“Please don’t.”
The voice has finally returned to her. I glare down at the slut, her fighting continues, I keep her leg in my mouth but her question has stunted me. She looks bewildered, confused. She truly does not understand, does she? I grimace, feeling my jaws clench.
Why, you little… why can’t you see the beauty of what it is we are indulging in?
Her screams pick up again, they grow higher and louder and my jaws keep clenching until I feel the bone shatter and I lose myself once more.
I may have cum already but my lust is burning like nothing had changed. Riled up, roused, my teeth clench and I rip, tear and pull. Sinews separate, bones crack, one hand on her chest, one on her thigh, I jerk and twist my head until I can finally feel the leg come lose. It feels like a triumph, a trophy to take with me, clenched between my teeth, I have torn off her digitigrade! The excitement is short-lived, however, the lust for more is still cursing through my veins and reluctantly I drop the leg and dig into her thigh instead.
I feel barely lucid anymore. Bite. Pull. Tear. It all blends together into an intoxicating cocktail that I never knew could be mixed this strong. I feel the burn of the ethanol in form of her hoof striking my chest and scratching my skin bloody, her hands wiling at my face in her final attempts to keep me from tearing her body apart.
But I prevail, guided only by core instincts that lead me to sink my teeth into her over and over. Her thighs, her chest, shoulders and arms, every time I close my teeth, I pull, attempting to rip her to chunks to spit them out on the floor… until my control finally slips and I allow myself to indulge and swallow.
Heavenly. Disgusting. Raw venison coats my throat, bits of fur and skin, sinew and fat offend my gums and my tongue. Fresh, bloody chunks off a prey that is still twitching and screaming. Is this the turning point? The branching path where one decides whether to end it and move on or to keep going, merely to ride the high and delve deeper into carnage and raw desires they may never fully return from? I believe it is. And I wave at it as I rush by.
At some point, it is over.
The hind has stopped to move. I am sitting outside in the driveway and look up at the street lamp. The pavement feels cold underneath my bottom, hands wrapped around my legs with my head sunk softly down. Behind me are the remains of my indulgence. I don’t even remember why I am out here but what is left of her is laying just next to the large tree on the lawn. It is difficult to gauge. Torso. A leg and an arm. A breast is missing.
"I believe I ate it."
I stare blankly forwards, repeating the sentence in my head. Ate it. I ate a lot of her. Uncooked. Unseasoned. From the bones. I can still feel warm blood drip from my muzzle and my hands. My torso is soaked. I haven’t been this lost in a while now. Indulged so deeply into the forbidden pleasure, it feels almost like jumping into a cold lake waking up. How the instincts can bewitch a Wolf like this.
“You did this.” I say out loud, speaking to the torso on the lawn, turning my head towards it. “You did this…”
At this point I simply need to hear my voice. Just to see if it is still there. I close my eyes and draw in deep breaths. In and out, the cold air feels refreshing until the gag reflex hits the back of my throat. Raw bile tickles my gums and my eyes widen in disgust, I am only barely able to bend to the side before the contents of my stomach splatter down on the pavement. I hunch over, my stomach is cut lose and it revolts like a winding maggot, desperate to regurgitate the things I have consumed. I see bits of fur, bone and dissolving flesh drape into a pile, aided by the disgusting bitterness of bile and stomach acid… then it stops. My eyes bulge in their sockets and I close them, feeling tears push past the closed eyelids as I turn my body and clutch my hands to fists and remain in a hunched position. I must keep it in. I cannot bare to let go of her this soon.
I stay on my fours for a while longer to compose myself. I shake, my fur bristles but eventually my stomach ceases to revolt against my wishes. I spew up a final glob of vile discharge, then turn to sit upright again. Slowly but surely, my mind slides out of the exciting embrace of carnal instincts. My muscles relax, my lips conceal my flews once more. I am calm.
Crickets chirping, the wind rustling the branches of the tree. No barking dogs, no lights turned on in the neighboring houses. If anyone heard the carnage, they have not seen a need to call the authorities. Which is good. I made such a mess; it would be difficult to explain it away. Is this even a case that could be swept under the rug anymore? It should be… after all, this wasn’t my fault. Deer should not be allowed to tease a Wolf like this. But I do need to get this cleaned up eventually.
With a deep sigh, I push my hands behind my back and get up onto my feet. A gush of blood that has accumulated in my groin splatters onto the floor. I take a look at it and a strange feeling of solemnity washes over me. I then walk back into her house to find some coins. I saw a payphone on the way here.
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This illustration of righteousness was provided by \r\n\t\t\t\t\t
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