The Altered Boy
Father Angelo never told Jim about the werewolves, at least, not until he reached puberty. It was then that the father finally worked up the courage to admit the secret he'd been hiding from the lad, since he'd come to the convent as a baby.
"Jim, come close to me," the old man said, waving his weathered fingers inward. "I've got somethin' to tell ya."
"What is it, Father?" the young, brown-haired lad whispered awkwardly. The shadows seemed to dance across the cathedral on this moonlit evening, and Jim felt the Devil stirring in him, enticing him with earthly temptations.
"You've been like a son to me, Jim, but there's something I've been hiding from ya, since you came to me as a baby. The reason why this old man doesn't move on, leave passin' on the Word of God to younger hands like yourself."
His blue eyes, almost grey and fast losing focus week by week, still conveyed the glimmer of a painful secret, that would change the way the two viewed one another.
"Do you believe in werewolves, son?" the old man said firmly. "Now I'm not asking you this because I'm upset at you--but tell me truthfully."
Jim put his hands in his pockets, and gulped. "I've heard things 'bout them, yeah, Father... people who've sold their souls to Satan, so they can turn into wolves, and be the devil's minions. But why would you ask me, Father?" he slurred in his country accent.
The old man took a deep breath, and fixed his collar. "Jim, that ain't but half the truth. Did you know that there are werewolves... here?"
The boy froze up, barely hiding an expression of guilt on his face. "In the church, Father?!"
The old preacher's expression softened, and he smiled, shaking his head. "No, no son. In the forest, here. This is an old, old place, older than me, older than this church. I came here to protect people from the legend of this place--and I feel it's time I passed on this knowledge to someone who can take up my cross, when I pass on."
And so the two continued their parley, and the boy learned the story of Grey Wolf's Crossing, a place in the woods, where Satan stood, admiring God's creation, and there, attained the inspiration to tempt it.
"Now the Bible says in Genesis 1:25, son, that 'God made the wild animals according to their kinds, the livestock according to their kinds, and all the creatures that move along the ground according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good.'"
The young lad folded his hands, sitting on the stool next to the pulpit, and nodded.
"But the locals have a story--Old Satan, in his contempt and mockery for the Lord's work, decided to tempt his children--as he often does. One night, he sat in the woods, not far from where we now stand--and he cast his eyes upon the Lord's work, and saw the wolf."
A rumble of thunder shook the sky, and a downpour began, rain splashing against the stained glass windows of the sanctuary.
"Now Old Satan got it into his head--'What if I make man jealous of the rest of creation?'--and so he went on a search for a woman--estranged from her family, and abandoned... and he took her in."
"And then, Father? Did his plan work?" the boy asked concernedly, sweat beading on his forehead, as he gripped his hands together, enthralled by the old preacher's story.
"That devil got the woman to lay with him, as a wolf--and together, they had a family... and nowadays, it's said that all the wolves of this region originate from that coupling, and that anyone who sets eyes on one, and feels lust for it, is cursed to walk the woods, seeking out the devil--to become a wolf themself."
"Wow..." the young man whispered, feeling strangely... good... about the terrible story. His right hand dropped down through the shadows, to his leg--though the Father did not notice.
"Now son, I don't expect you to make your decisions on hearsay and rumors--but I'm tellin' you--those wolves out there are evil--Satan's spawn. You don't give them one look--and if you do, you tell me, and I'll come-a-huntin'."
There was a pause as guilt shot through the heart of the lad, and he tried hard not to break away from the old man's grey stare, with his own young brown eyes.
"Y-yes, Father. Thank you."
"Good. Now get to bed son, we've got rounds to do in the morning, before the sermon." the old man said, donning his wide brimmed black hat, over his grey head of hair, and standing.
Golden eyes shone through a small chip in the stained glass of the Virgin Mary, although no one saw them. They watched the two men seperate, and then disappeared.
* * *
In service, Jim sat in the back, behind several other worshippers, and held the hand of his dream girl. She wore white silk, and a frumpy headdress, her Sunday best--but her chestnut eyes sparkled with something enchanting, and devilish, that the boy secretly wanted to know about--more than any of his Father's scriptures or secrets.
"And the Lord Sayeth--'Thou Shalt not Kill'." the old man continued, reminding everyone of the Ten Commandments of Mount Sinai. The old tenets droned on, as the lad's eyes met hers, and he felt a new sensation of interest... a stirring in his body he'd never sensed before, as she brought her hand up his knee, slowly across his leg.
"I have a secret I want to share with you..." she whispered, bringing her face close to his ear, as he tried, sweating, to continue looking forward, and not at her.
"N-no... I don't think that the Father would... like it very much if I abandoned my duties... I must clean the stables, and tend to the Church..." he said, straining to keep his voice low.
Her hand drew up his leg, hot in the cold room, delicately moving his soft black sunday pants.
"I have a secret I want to share with you..." she repeated resolutely, hooking her nails slowly under his waistband, and bringing her fingers warm against the skin of his groin. Slowly, she lowered them into the bush of newgrown hair he'd only recently developed...
And she began to squeeze his penis delicately, and jostle it up and down with her thumb overtop his shaft.
He practically fainted, then. It would've been his prerogative to scream--if he had not, in truth, wanted to know what was happening to him. You see, his Father--the priest--had denied and withheld him knowledge of his maturation; a fatal mistake, to say the least. And now, young Jim desired to know why he felt so wonderfully, so passionately for this quiet mystery woman. After all--this was not the first time... that they had met.
When she withdrew her hand, he could barely hide the firm erection she had given him... and he wanted more. They did not exchange further words during that service--but the gaze they shared was stirring Jim's soul. He resolutely followed her, even after the bells had tolled, denoting the need for his services.
He followed her through the crowd headed back into town, and met her at the pigs' stable, behind the church. Amidst the sweet scent of mud mixed with dung, they hid in the shadows, and she courted her suitor.
"Young man... you've been ever so kind to me. I felt that it would be best to reward you for your attentions these many weeks..." she said, stroking his face with her hand, as he stared fixated at her beauty.
"You see, tonight, I must go home to be with my family once more, and we will not see each other again, in this place." she sighed.
"I don't want you to go... please, tell me what's happening to me. Why are you showing these things to me, when they put me in jeapordy?"
The woman closed in on her prey, and together with him, descended into the mud and filth, knocking him off balance.
"I want you to come with me, darlin'," she said, and then licked his face. His heart skipped several beats--in a land somewhere between terror and ecstasy.
He squirmed in the mud, helpless as a child, as she pulled down his pants, and began to thrust into his boyhood, her lacy dress stroking his young meat.
"You're turnin' into a fine adult, Jim." she whispered. "But I've got a gift for you that's better still... all you've gotta do is say yes."
Why was he thrusting back? What force compelled him so? He had never known that he could feel this way--and the only thing that came to his mind was... the Devil's trickery.
And so he shook her off as she grappled for his shaft with shit-slicked fingers. The sensation of her palm and fingers slipping across it, leaving a brown stain, was like a last parting kiss, as the voice of the Preacher echoed loudly, searching for him.
She stood and took off, cringing, tears staining her face. He did not see which way she ran, and although he later returned, he could find no trail, no footprints in the mud to suggest she'd ever been.
* * *
"Cmere boy, you're a complete mess! What's gotten into you?" the old man grumbled, rubbing his naked back down with the cloth, as he soaked in the wooden tub, filled with warm water and suds.
Jim blushed. Something felt different about his Father's touch now. Ever since the woman had attacked him, he felt desires he never would have entertained, or even realized he had. He did his best to shut them out, closed his eyes, and ducked under for a moment, to rinse out his hair.
"I asked you to clean the stables, not dirty yourself--now don't tell me what I told you last night is gettin' you jumpy, and you're losin yer senses."
He took a deep breath, and let it all out.
"She touched me... Father. That woman who sat next to me in church."
"Eh?!" the old man said. "A Delilah, here, in my midst? What did she do, boy?!" he cried, getting worked up, shaking him by his shoulders.
"The lady in the lace--the one with the fancy hat, and brown eyes... she wanted to show me something... so... we went back by the stables... and...she pinned me down like an animal! I never felt so strange, Father... it felt... good."
"The wolf." the old man muttered with a drawl. "I should have known. Boy, how far did she get with you? Come on now, show me what you got down there."
Jim blushed. It'd been years since he'd shown his unmentionables to the priest--it just wasn't something you did... but this was important.
He stood up, and splashed water on his waist, so they could both get a good look.
What he saw terrified him as much as it enthralled.
"Dear Jesus... what did she do to me?" he whispered, looking down at the nub of skin covering the entirety of his penis.
"I've seen this once before, Jimbo..." the father said, a look of dread in his eyes, and the sound of it in his voice. "Ah yes... she's made you her mark--wants you as her next."
"Next? Next what?!" Jim cried, panicked, hands shaking as he reached for the--thing... that covered his penis... it had completely overtaken his member, and clung to his belly by a thick band of skin. He knew he'd seen similar on animals, but this was...a sheathe. His sheathe."
"She wants you to be her wolf, son." the priest said grimly. "And there'll be no stopping her til she has you, side by side with her, howlin' to the moon, and praisin' Satan. Only we can stop her now."
"Stop her?! What are you talkin' about, F-Father?" he said, dipping his body back into the water.
"Get cleaned up, boy, and don't go touching that awful thing she's put in you. Get yer clothes on, and meet me up in the attic right away."
He waited for the Father to leave... before curiously playing with himself.
It still felt good, better than ever.
* * *
When he finally got his robes on, and his mind out of the fever that was still burning in him, it wasn't hard to find his way to the old pastor. He just followed the sound of the banging, and pounding of metal.
Up in the dusty attic, there was a light shining, from a burning flame. At first, Jim thought that the church had caught fire--and then he was the door that had slid open in the attic wall, where there had been only bricks before.
Father Angelo was hammering at a bit of glistening metal. Amidst the table next to him were strewn various items of silverware, layed helter skelter, and shimmering in the firelight.
"Pastor, what are you doing?" Jim asked with scrutiny.
"Silver, son--I'm makin' silver bolts... and we're going to put an end to this legend, one way or another."
"Father--you don't have any proof she's the wolf!" Jim complained, his loins stirring, a guilty desire to protect his confidant arising in his heart of hearts.
"Boy..." the old man said gruffly, "The proof is right there between yer legs. Now I'm not askin' you to kill her--but you'n at least help me out here." he growled, offering the lad a hammer.
He refused. "The Lord Sayeth--'Thou Shalt not Kill', Father. It is a sin, what you are planning."
"Damnit, Jim... I'm a priest, not a murderer! But I'll be tarred and feathered before I let her take you from me. She's a wolf, for God's sakes, son! A child of the Devil--it's our duty to stop her tempting you!" he shouted resolutely, slamming the tongs and hammer against the anvil, sending the chunk of silver flying.
"I will have no part in this, Father... I-I'm sorry. You don't have my blessing in any part of this, either." he cried, trembling in anxiety, and turning to run back and be alone.
"Jim! Oh hell and tarnation!" the priest growled, standing up for a second, and then turning to pick up the stray piece of silver.
* * *
Jim's anxiety, however, was not for the fact that his would-be father simply intended to murder a woman. In his soul, he knew the curse was true, and knew his body was rebelling against God's will, taken by these strange new sensations.
No, truthfully, he was anxious because he was guilty. He enjoyed what the woman was doing to him in ways he'd never understood before. His cloistered world was being opened up forcibly, and the pastor wanted to keep him safe and sheltered, in the dark. But Jim no longer was content with his little world, or the answers it provided.
And so, when it drew late, and the old man had wrapped up his pounding and hammering, and left the church to return to his bed, Jim set out to undo his "father's" efforts.
The boy knew little beyond what he had watched the pastor do in the past, heating the metal til it grew bright red, and shaping it with many strikes from the hammer. It had always been things like horseshoes, or nails, occasionally something more intricate like a sculpture. And yet, a determination burned bright in Jim, as he sought to protect the woman who'd caught his attentions. He began to recreate his parent's work--only in Iron, not Silver.
He could not see it, but grey fur had begun to spread from his loins, replacing the wiry brown curls he once bore.
* * *
Running out into the woods, he called for her. He knew not her name, only shouting "Ma'am, Ma'am are you there?"
Over and over he shouted, and hours passed. He quickly grew lost, and it seemed like he might never be found--that he would die out here, cold and starving.
And then the song of a wolf broke the silence, a piercing, mournful howl. It called for him, and he responded in kind, unable to hold in his voice. Soon, the cries were closer... and he continued in their direction.
And at last, the figure of a woman--not a wolf--broke through the underbrush.
They embraced unquestioningly--he did not even bother to look at her... and when he did, it was the yellow eyes of a wolf that met his.
"You came back." the familiar voice whispered.
"I couldn't stay... I had to see you again." he said, kissing her.
In shock, he felt as his lips met the lips and fangs of a wolf. Warm, rancid odor streamed into his nose as she exhaled, her breath forming mist in the cold air.
"You're so handsome, young boy... I've pined for you these last few nights." the wolf said. She stood like a woman, had the breasts of a woman, in addition to her six small nipples--but she was unquestionably an animal, naked and grey-furred, from head to toe.
"I... I can't stop you. I don't WANT to stop you... but please... tell me what you're doing to me--you're drivin' me mad..." he moaned.
She licked his face once more, with her broad, hot lupine tongue... it was the same woman from that Sunday at church, there was no doubt now.
"I'm making you an adult, boy. Now just close your eyes, kneel down in the leaves, and relax."
His lip trembled... he squirmed, antsily... but he complied. He got down on his knees, and she stood over him, and initiated him into wolfhood.
* * *
"Goddamnit..." the old man muttered, as he assembled his stock of bolts. They were rough, but not the first he'd forged for killing a wolf. They would do their job.
He slipped one into the ornate crossbow, and stuffed the rest into a pouch on his belt. There was no telling how much time he had left now, with Jim gone. He only hoped it was not too late to save his son from the fate he'd put his own father through, so long ago.
With brevity, and alacrity, the old man donned his hat, slid shut the hidden door in the attic behind him, and made down the stairs... his destination?
Wherever he could hear the howling.
* * *
She sat next to him, disrobed, as the musky fur rose up his chest, and stroked the nub at his rear that was bending, pushing and straining to be a true tail with her silky palm pad. His breaths were growing heavy, as the snout of a wolf took form, his nose already blackened and moist.
"Arrrrrgh!" he groaned, as his lower jaw stretched to keep up with his blackening upper lip. "Ahroo... rooooooooooooo!"
She palmed his crotch, covered entierly in thick grey shag, tightening her fingers around his sheathe, and rubbing her head against his shoulder.
"That's good... sing, boy... soon you will be a man." she said, tightening her fingers to entice his penis from its resting place.
He growled, helplessly twitching, bringing his padded fingers to his extending face as claws shot out of them. With a loud crunch, his visage turned completely lupine as his lips and nose reached full length muzzle.
He opened his eyes, and they were yellow and black... excited, shining, and sorrowful. He turned his shaggy head to her, as small bits of brown hair began to shed from his forehead, and the grey encroached.
"Come," she whispered, walking with him a ways, and taking him by the hand. "There is much about being alive, to teach someone so new to adulthood."
Jim followed, confused, slowly becoming a creature. His red member shone out slick and shining in the moonlight, eager for the wolf's promises.
Soon, they reached a small clearing in the trees, and she stood aside to reveal the beautiful vista, overlooking the church, which he had beheld from below many times. From here, it was bathed in the full moon's light... and he was pleased. He panted, lolling out his own wolfish tongue, no longer cold, but filled with the heat of lust.
She squatted, and invited him next to her, raising her tail.
"This is home." she whispered softly, relieving herself in thick acrid piles of wolf poop, panting and gazing up at the moonlight.
The boy in him tried to resist, at first. He strode over on human feet that were rapidly being covered in patches of grey fur. But before long, he too had stooped, and begun to relieve himself.
He tried to hold it--tried to badger into his mind that this wasn't something people did... and then... she touched him, held his shoulder, and looked understandingly into his yellow eyes, with her own.
As he relaxed his bowels, and took a huge dump, his tail began to grow, long and full with luscious thick fur, and a flap of skin over his evacuating anus--and his unsheathed dick shone, as dribbles of sticky liquid slid out from the long nozzled prick, and down onto his furry balls.
"Do not fight us anymore. We want you to be full and content, always, as one of us." she whispered, alleviating her needs together with him.
He panted, mindlessly, as he squeezed out every little bit of steaming wolf shit, and the stinking grey fur grew thick through his scalp, as his ears perked up high and triangular.
* * *
When the old man finally did catch up to them, he found a sordid sight that burned into his mind.
What had been Jim barked at him, and then panted, stupidly, squatting on his knees as the concubine lavished him with tonguebaths and caresses. The boy's chest had filled out with thick muscles, and was growing over with grey fur--it was almost impossible to see the young man in him anymore.
"Hello, pastor." the wolf woman spoke, through black, smiling lips. "What are you looking for tonight, a boy?"
She brought her hand down to the werewolf's slick red penis, and rocked her hand back and forth, making it knot up hard.
"There are only men and wolves here, tonight, good Father. Come, run with us." she challenged him wickedly.
"Never!" the old man cried, raising his bow, and firing it straight into the heart of the seductress.
She collapsed in blood, and let out a pained yelp, becoming a true wolf in an instant, huddled on the ground.
In a rage, Jim the wolf-man charged at his father, and grabbed him up by the collar. The reaction was so sudden, the old man had no time to react, and he was soon dangling, choking in the werewolf's muscular grasp.
"J-Jim... no... it's me--your father! Son, remember yourself!"
The wolf behind them choked, moaned, and reverted to its hominid form, seizing the bolt in its chest, and tugging it out. Almost immediately, the wound healed over, scabbing, and falling free to leave only untouched fur.
And the wolf-man growled, hot, rancid breath, reeking of carrion deer filling the old preacher's nose. And for the first time in his newfound manhood, his wolfish mouth found words.
"Youuu can hurrrrt me Father, but you will neverrrr break my hearrrt." he growled, the grey hair on his shoulders and butt standing high and rigid. His humanity had now entirely shed, not a trace of brown hair or bare skin left--only the beautiful pelt of the grey wolf, and its blossoming bushy tail, and golden moonlit eyes, remained.
The old man panicked, trembled--was sure his heart was failing...
And then the great wolf dropped his father to the ground, and knelt upon him, dangling his gleaming cock, and bringing it to the old man's lips.
"Drrrrrrink father... and be a woooolfff...." the beastman howled.
The old man tried to roll out from under, to dodge... but soon felt the red phallic spout meet his lips, and prod at them, wet, hot, and sticky.
And the one who had been a pastor opened his mouth eagerly, and took in his son--as he'd yearned to now for months. Soon, the thick bulging knot was filling his mouth, as the wolf's penis slid down his throat, and Jim the werewolf, for the first time, ejaculated hard, rapid ropes of wolf cum--and knew what it was like to be a man.
"AwoooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
* * *
When the dust had settled, Father Angelo had a moist black pad for a nose, and was licking yellow animal semen from his face and lengthy whiskers. Brown fur had begun to rocket up and down his neck and cheeks, and his eyes had turned glistening ochre.
The wolf woman was there, squeezing her nipples, little jets of milk squirting out onto the old man's naked belly, through the tatters in his robes.
"The wonder of humans is how lustful they are, darling." she whispered, winking at the old wolf-man.
"I don't... I don't understand. What are you sayin'?" the turning elder werewolf asked, perplexed.
The wolf woman smiled, continuing to pinch nipple after nipple, and shifting her tail and ears, she lustily came down on the old man's reddening erection.
"Human beings are the lustful ones, old preacher. Us wolves... we only come into season twice a year, and for us, it is a very important, and special moment, where new packs are forged and founded..."
She eased her lips down over his head, as it slimmed and slicked, bending into a penetrating, crooked wolf prick, and slipped inside of her black cooze.
"But you humans are blessed, and cursed. You're nevvvvver not in season." she gasped, as her husband, Jim, the werewolf, raised her rump, and thrust to penetrate her anus.
"And your point is?" the ex-priest panted, his long wolf tongue springing out of his mouth, as his face took on the semblance of a muzzle, and his fingers sprouted thick black claws.
The wolf woman squinted one eye shut as her husband penetrated deep and hilted in her behind, and the three rutted together. She thought deeply about what special words to say to her new elder.
Finally, amidst the humping, and huffing, and panting of newly fledged werewolves, she came up with her answer.
"My point is, of all the creatures in the world, you humans are the ones who've forgotten, and misrepresented, and demonized--how precious, and essential, and unifying it is--to love. How odd."
And all else was deafened by a cacophony of wild howls, and intense, hot orgasms... and soon after, the spraying of urine, and markings of the Pack.