Bad Puppy: Prologue
#1 of Bad Puppy
This story is a work of erotic gay horror (fiction) that contains scenes of underage sex and species transformation between father & son. It is purposely designed to shock, arouse & offend. Do not view this material in areas that frown upon such things in a legal context. No reproduction or redistribution is allowed without the author's written consent. Feedback / style / grammar tips, are encouraged & appreciated.
Bad Puppy
by OldeWoof
Prologue:
I should have paid more attention when my son Shawn had pulled the dusty old hide down off the cabin wall. We used to raise chickens, but the beast had made short work of them all, late one night. A single rifle shot between the eyes, and the monster laid dead; blood and feathers pouring from it's gaping jaws. I guess I kept the pelt as a kind of trade, for what the animal took from us. We never had any more problems with predators after I hung it on the living room wall, next to the stone fireplace. In fact, ever since then, an odd sort of quiet seemed to have settled around the homestead. Maybe it was just me missing my wife, projecting a silent emptiness? I dunno. But the fear of more losses didn't help motivate me to replace the chickens. So the empty coop out back sat unused for years, until Shawn later made a playhouse out of it. Now that I think back, I almost can't remember a time when my kid wasn't dragging that damn shaggy pelt everywhere with him, always playing with it on, draped loosely over his back. I could never be mad at him for long, so when I found it missing, I decided to let him play with it. Besides it was kind of cute how he loved to pretend to chase and hunt the local wildlife with that over sized grey fur wrapped around him. Guess I figured it was just a phase he was going through, something I hoped he would soon grow out of... In retrospect, I now regret the moment he touched it.
At first, the dried out hide would crack and flop comically around his lanky frame. A short piece of twine kept it anchored around his waist. But over time, the skin seemed to soften, then gradually fit better & better against Shawn's shifting contours as the days and weeks passed. It was getting hard to tell if it was Shawn or a real wolf that was snuggling against me while we watched tv together, late one Spring night. That evening, while letting my fingers stroke his head through the thick fur, I thought I felt the wolf's ear flick in response. I suddenly noticed he smelled musty, like a dog that needed a bath, and his relaxed breathing seemed unusually deep. I glanced down at what I thought was my son, and though I didn't freak out, I honestly couldn't tell where the hide ended and my son began, as the light from the small television flickered dimly across the room. Maybe it was simply a trick my tired eyes played on me?
It was afterwards that I noticed Shawn had taken to sleeping in most of the day, always laying on or near the wolf skin; which was now never far from him. His legs and arms would often wiggle in sync, like he was running in his dreams. God, he looked so cute when he did that. His mouth sometimes moved rhythmically, just like he was still nursing; which always made me think of his mother. When he was awake, the way he carried himself even began to change, as I watched him tiptoe around outside, standing solidly on the balls of his feet with his knees bent, and his back held straight. With the pelt on, he looked even more like the animal that had killed those chickens, so many years ago. Shawn had taken to being alone much more often, and habitually gulped his food down hastily, always longing for sunset-- when he got more active and wanted to play outside. Lost in my own memories of my wife, and the daily distractions of providing a living out in the forest, I hadn't really noticed a pattern to his slowly changing behavior. That is, until that first night I caught him...
I had made meatloaf for dinner, and glanced at my boy, who was quickly shoving heaping mouth fulls of ketchup covered food into his maw. It struck me that he suddenly seemed like an older version of himself; with a more masculine square jaw, big teeth, large hands, and a clear five o'clock shadow on his face. The hair poking out his open shirt told me he now sported chest hair, which actually looked thicker than mine. How long had he been shaving? I know I should have associated the wet shaver and backed up messes in the bathroom sink before, but like I said, I was so busy trying to do what was needed around the place, that I suppose I hadn't taken it all in before. Now that I looked, really looked at my son, I was awestruck at how much like an adult he seemed. Unexpectedly, I felt myself getting hard as I studied him. I blushed in embarrassment, trying to ignore the strange, contradictory feelings.
As if he could smell my reaction, Shawn suddenly looked up at me, his pupils oddly catching the light hanging above the table, twitching his nose in a strange, doggy sort of way. Grunting as if in pain, he then begged, "Pa, can I go outside after dinner?" It had become a ritual to ask, since I always let him go. But this time, I only allowed it after making him promise to help clean up. He stood by the sink, rinsing dishes, clearly more interested in the setting sun lowering through the trees out the kitchen window, than the task in front of him. I could smell that strong musty animal scent coming from him again, as the evening progressed and the stack of dishes disappeared. While I watched him work, it was also apparent that Shawn had gained some muscle mass and grown a bit since the last time we went clothes shopping. I made a mental note to take measurements, and found myself getting hard again, but continued to ignore the throbbing ache. I wasn't sure what was coming over me. My kid was nearly panting now, appearing warm and flushed, stroking the long grey fur of the pelt as it laid over the back of the kitchen chair. It was nearly twilight.
"Pa, can I go now?" he asked even more pleadingly. I told him he could, watching as he lovingly scooped up his favorite possession, then shot for the back door on the pads of his feet. My curiosity was piqued, so Slowly following after him to the back window, I peered outside. I could see Shawn opening the side door to the old chicken coop, hurriedly closing the door behind him. I waited a few moments and didn't see any lights go on as the sky continued to darken. Maybe it was time to have that talk with my boy. Birds and bees stuff, since he projected such a profound maleness at dinner in such a short time... I had assumed there was maybe another year or two before I had to face that. But it was clear the time was now. I waited for my half erection to die before grabbing the wrought iron handle, to see what he was really up to...
As I walked out the back door, I could hear Shawn faintly moaning inside the coop. I silently crept up to the corner of the building, and peered into the side where chicken wire covered the windows. My boy's breathing was becoming louder and deeper. I got an incredible hardon, thinking my grown boy was going to be caught masturbating to porn. Half chuckling to myself, I thought this might turn out to be pretty funny, catching him in the act. I looked in and was shocked. Shawn was on his hands and knees naked, except for the pelt clinging loosely onto his back. He had just pulled his wet hand from his gaping mouth, now slowly reaching down for his erectly bobbing dick. Drool ran down his hairy chin to splat thickly to the floor. His face and hands hadn't been that fuzzy before he left the cabin. I hadn't seen him using the twine cord to keep the hide on lately, and now began to understand why...
My boy's normally tiny 4 inch penis was jutting out straight and huge, as he stroked it with his hairy, saliva coated hand. About 6 inches long now, the increasing length strained against its own skin. I watch dumbfounded, as his cock tip fused into the thickening tube of skin along the sides, and the piss slit stretched & deepened. It no longer resembled anything my flesh and blood brought into this world. Shawn groaned again, his voice lower than I have ever heard it, while the pelt seemed to wetly draw up against him and hug his trembling, flexing form. I couldn't tell if the vocalizations were in pleasure or pain, but it might have been some of both, as Shawn's member surged forward even more, forming a swelling bulb at the base of his now 8 inch dick. He began to arch his extending spine and stroke his mutating cock faster, with an oddly shaped hand that was fast becoming better suited for less dexterous purposes. His fuzzy palm was quickly becoming too long and the fingers too short and thick. The visible tension built as the chubby sheath furred up over my boy's rigid penis. It forced a moist red tip to emerge from the slit, then abruptly slide out to completely expose an inhumanly wet, dark pink spear to the evening air. My altering son let loose a bestial roar that shook the shed.
"Shawn!" I yelled. Heavy facial muscles on both sides of his nose rippled, as my boy snarled a reply. The pelt began to suddenly flex and flap around my son's deepening chest and legs, like a small tornado that was trapped in the room with him. I ran into the small building and he looked up at me, his feral eyes pleading with me not to interfere. "D.. Dad. Don't... I can't... GrrR. Help MEH!" he screamed, then suddenly vibrated and twitched like someone having a seizure. Sickly crunching, popping sounds could be heard from under his skin while his proportions changed even faster. His anguished moans deepened further while his neck popped and lengthened. As his body blended and merged into the pelt, my son's face pressed out into the heavy muzzle of an animal, taking on a feral, fanged visage. I saw the hole left from my bullet slowly close up a raw spot in his forehead. Then a thick tongue unfurled & flopped out past darkening lips and gums. The Shawn-creature began to gulp larger amounts of air with billows-like lungs. He was still trying to talk, but failing miserably as I cautiously approached what was once my only child. I simply had no words for what I felt. I dumbly stroked the back and sides of my boy in comfort as he whined and keened in writhing agony or ecstasy.
The animal that was fast becoming less and less Shawn, began to hump frustratedly into the air, since it's wet hand-paw could no longer stroke the enormous 10 inch breeding tool my boy now heavily sported. I stared, facinated by it. I don't know what motivated me to do what I did, next. Perhaps it was his needful whining, but I eased my hand down between his shaggy haunches, letting the clear fluid he was spurting, wet my work calloused hand. Quickly covered, I slowly began to stroke his lupine tool, while the horrible sounds of bones reforming and the last of the changes faded into a throaty but happy panting sound. The handsome timberwolf that I was now wanking, warmly licked my face. Encouraged, I gently grabbed behind his rock hard knot and firmly squeezed. "There you go boy... No one's going to hurt you. I know it's still you in there Shawn, and I will always love you..." Seeming to understanding my intentions, the lusty animal humped harder. Big forepaws equipped with thick black claws gripped me, as it reared up and used my height to support its hairy body. We traded sloppy kisses, sucking on each others tongues for a while, despite the physical differences. The beast howled and curled it's fluffy tail after I bent down, held it's huge member in both hands, then brought my mouth to the pointed, musky tip, sucking it for all I was worth.
I was overcome by a strange sense of satisfaction and almost parental pride, as large squirts of canine cum shot deep into my throat by the wonderfully primal, male instrument. But I remember it was important for me to make sure Shawn was happy and set at ease, before I could take care of my own building urges. My pants had become stained with pre, and I could never remember being so fucking hard in my entire life; not even with my now long dead wife. After the timberwolf slowed to a trickle, I couldn't take it anymore, and pulled away to tear off my pants and underwear. My boy wagged his tail, excitedly nosing and snorting at my privates with his cold black snoot. "Hold on pup, your Dad's got to take care of business right now..." And began smearing the canine seed from my face and hands onto my throbbing purple pole. A long, broad tongue was eagerly trying to sneak licks in, while I pumped my modest sized piston to release. I erupted after watching Shawn turn to lap his cock back inside its protective sheath. Sitting on his muscular haunches, he seemed to grin toothily at me as I almost passed out from my orgasm. The young beast got up, then hungrily licked the floor clean of the thick white strands and I came again when it used that brilliant tool to clean my oversensitive dick. I hugged him and together we spent the night in the coop, with me curled around his musky warmth.
As the days progressed, Shawn and I spend a great deal more time together. I would never have expected my son would be filling the emotional void I had felt, ever since his mother passed away. In the early evenings we would both wait for the sun to set, and the skin to once again wrap around him and bring the feral joy it clearly gave my boy each time he transformed. Countless times, I wanked or sucked him off during the merge, helping ease the transition. Gradually, we found he could shift earlier and earlier in the evenings. Torso, neck and feet would groan softly and lengthen, swelling with hairy muscle and tendons, as if in eager anticipation of being reunited with the pelt. Shawn's panting tongue would flop past his jutting chin, to cool the building heat. Then we knew the change was possible. As a young man, my son had become even more defined and bearish with each passing week. So too, the wolf that formed out of him & the pelt, seemed to adapt and modify along with him. Sometimes I would catch the intelligent pup trying to use its huge forepaws to open things, or make strange canine vocalizations as if it was trying to speak. The most evident difference being the animal's fur color darkening from a typical Timberwolf's brown, white and grey-- into a glossy midnight black. There was nothing more sexy than seeing dark fur cover my son's twitching muscles, his heavy body drop to all fours, before chasing something down and kill it.
My boy spoke less and less as the summer continued. But when the animal he became was horny, he always made it clear with his body language; an authoritative 4-legged strut, exposed dripping cock and insistent puppy-like nosings at my groin and mouth. After taking down a big buck one early afternoon, it was clear the beast in him was interested in more than just food. The rumbling voice of the now skilled predator, made growls that sounded almost like, "Waaaaant Fuuuuuuck!" so I let him mount me roughly as blood from his kill dripped from his strong jaws, onto my back. Shawn's wolfhood was probably close to 14 inches now, and much thicker than the first transformation I witnessed. It was then that I noticed some small changes to my own body, and watched my hairy abs and fuller length cock flex, then spurt, as my son's enormous paws locked me firmly in position while he slowly worked deeper into me. I realized there was an undeniable purity and honesty to this primal expression of love. Nothing made me feel closer to my boy then when we were tied together for an hour or more. The sensation of his heavy furred balls pressing into mine and his tail laying over my back, gave me a sense of completeness I hoped would last forever. Never had I been happier in my life.
Near sunrise, an exhausted beast with burrs in it's coat, would usually bound up to my bedroom, chuffing it's blood tainted breath in my face, to wake me. I would pat the bed, and Shawn would gracefully leap up and happily begin nosing for my cock under the blankets. Finding his target, he would lave my hard cock with that amazing tongue of his. Often, he would bob his gradually shrinking muzzle over my dick, and use the ribbed roof of his mouth to great effect. His soft pointed ears and cheek ruffs made perfect handles while we did this. After my typically quick orgasm, he would sigh deeply, seeming satisfied, then snuggle up against me. I have to admit, I loved the feel of his musky fur against me in the mornings. With the first rays of light, the pelt would slowly separate and begin to wetly pull away from his human body. Once his tail stopped wagging, I knew most of his transformation had finished. Then I would find his hand beneath the layers, and hold it as I fell back to sleep to the remaining soft pops or crunching sounds of his return. My boy's new pale skin was always red and sticky right afterwards, much like the day he was first born. After I awoke and dressed for the day, Shawn generally wouldn't do anything but sleep, eat or beg for sex; until he thought it was late enough where he could once again don the wolf skin.
When the leaves turned and started to fall, Shawn refused to eat anything I cooked when he walked on two legs, which seemed to be less and less often. Much of his awake time was spent trying to see how much earlier he could change back while gnawing on the remains of his smaller kills. There was quite a collection of dead woodchuck and gopher carcases building up out back, now. I would often sit outside with him in a rocking chair on warm nights, drinking lemonade, while he worried at the larger bones and meat. Since I didn't have to buy as many supplies, and my son was basically feeding himself off the land, I went much less often into town, which was 90 miles away to the south. I remember the last time I made that trip. Upon return, I found my beloved son mounting and humping into what looked like a frightened female wolf in the driveway. I guess I hadn't fully realized how huge and stocky my son had actually become as a four-legger. I tried not to stare while he jackhammered into that small, terrified bitch beneath him, but I have to admit it made me rock hard again. I idly wondered if his mating with one of his own kind, might weaken our close relationship? Getting out of the truck, I casually walked near the busy pair, trying to bring the groceries and the dog brush I had bought for his shedding coat, inside... Clumps of hair from his thick double furred coat was everywhere in the cabin.
"gnnnnnnnnnghMINE!"roared the angry beast as it hugged the poor female tighter and snapped it's great fanged jaws at me. I had never seen such a mindless, completely instinct-driven expression ripple on my wolf's face before. Its muzzle wrinkled in feral hate & distrust for me as I drew nearer. "Shawn, it's me... Your Dad... Remember?" An intense amber stare met my eyes as it bellowed, "YOough rrrRarrh mmmmMMMEAT!" The rapid humping became irregular as it raised its shaggy head, long tongue flopping off to the side, then passionately howled at the noon sky. I could smell his release. Rearing up onto his hind legs with the yelping bitch still tied fast as his groin, he raised both massive forepaws to the sky, while thick limbs and widening chest noisily altered to allow them to swing out to the sides. His sternum cracked between harsh pants, and massive pectoral muscles formed as his chest widened into a more human-like shape. Straining to clench its wide paws into fists, bones began to pop and the big clawed toes grew into longer, thick padded fingers and thumbs. They looked much more like human hands now. With an increasingly rabid expression, my son worked himself up into a frothing rage, as drool spilled down on the poor wolf below. Shawn suddenly bent down, grabbing the neck of the female and began tearing into her flesh with a savage frenzy I've never experienced with any of his prior kills. Stunned at first, I dropped my bags and ran to the cabin to grab my rifle...
When I came back, Shawn was gulping down big chunks of muscle out of the dead wolf still tied to him. He was using his new hands to grasp his victim, helping him eat. I could smell his excitement and continued orgasm while he feasted. "Son, for God's sake, STOP! It's me, your FATHER!" The beast snapped & snarled at me again, then bit into the back of the head, ripping it off and tossed it in my direction. Blood and foam went everywhere. I swear he laughed at me when I jumped back. After the insatiable hybrid hunched and orgasmed once again, it slowed in its hedonistic revelry, blinked then turned to regard at me as if for the first time. It panted deeply, making its wider, more human chest rise and fall. Growling as if it had come to a decision, it slowly stood on heavy hind legs. Fangs thicker than my thumb greeted me with their red stained, arcing perfection. The headless dead wolf now sagging from the beast's groin, looked like a giant bloody sheath, as the animal that had been my son, took a threatening step forward. "Shawn... No! You don't want to do this!" With a defiant canine grin, it took another heavy, upright step, its muzzle twisting with renewed hatred as it neared. In a baritone of almost perfect English, it intoned, "Igh rrRRememberrr YoooOU NooOW... CHICKENS!"as a sharp claw and thick digit pointed exactly where the hole in the pelt's forehead once was: the hole my gun caused all those years ago. My wide eyes told the creature, I too, remembered. Then the black beast worked itself into a frothing rage as it glared at my rifle, crouching low with the dead bitch still attached, then launched itself like a coiled spring at me. I had no choice but to pull the trigger...
I recall waiting until sunrise, then skinned the pelt off my boy's body. It never moved when the first rays of daylight struck its hide. I can still see myself, pulling and tugging at the pelt, like a big wet sheet, tearing it away from what he had become. A dripping, skinless monster now laid before my eyes. Flies had already begun to gather around it's glazed eyes and open muzzle. I guess I wanted to see if maybe something of him was left, deep inside. But it was all beast; every last bone and organ. I buried the bloody remains of the huge wolf in the backyard, using a backhoe I kept in the barn. The pit would have suited a small pony. The incredible sense of loss I felt for my dead son, lead me down a spiraling path of darkest depression and despair. Even booze didn't dull the pain of it. Truth was, I had been slowly losing my boy this whole summer, and the creature that took over my son's body-- his very soul, somehow became aware enough to remember I had killed it in the chicken coop, so long ago. Its evil influence had even extended to me in some small measure, as I looked at my thickly arched nails and shaggy hand. At one point, I even considered wearing the damn thing to see what would happen, but never had the courage to do it. But before I shot myself in the bedroom, I placed the corrupting pelt that I salvaged from the body, into a locked chest; worried some other poor child might find it and become seduced by its feral whims...
Turns out, I was right to worry.
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