“Any ideas?”
“Pull his fur some more.”
She did, and he howled.
“Don’t like that, huh?” she whispered.
He nipped gently at her wrists, her forearms, and she set her jaw with determination and simply found different patches to tug and torture.
He couldn’t get away from her. He couldn’t roll over again, and the vise grip her thighs had on his body was even tighter now with him laying uncomfortably on his back. Dogs weren’t meant to be on their backs.
She grabbed the scruff under his chin, and then one of his ears, and then some hair right atop his chest. Then she reached behind her and grabbed some hair over his belly, and that seemed to break something inside of him. A howl rent the air, and it was his. His body was set on fire, though he could see no flames.
He writhed beneath her, trying to snuff the fire out against the floor. The blaze was getting under his fur, beneath his skin, into his bones, and it hurt like hell.
“Adam, he’s shifting.”
“Good! Good. Keep on him so he doesn’t slip back.”
“Okay.”
Another yank of fur somewhere on his side, and he couldn’t be certain of where because the pain was already so much.
“S-stop,” he croaked in a voice that most certainly was his. The noise was more growling than talking, though.
Briefly, she did stop, but he watched her recoil with shock or fright or something similar.
Scared or not, she kept pulling fur, and stopped that only to scratch at his tender skin, and to pinch him.
“Don’t you dare shift back on me,” she snapped.
“He’s not stuck, is he?” came the voice.
There must have been a phone somewhere with its speaker on. Sweet Mary was apparently conversing with some sort of sadist.
“I think he’s almost back. His skin is…” She reached down and pressed her hands to his cheeks, cringing. “His skin is rippling, but I think he’s through the worst of the change.”
“That’s everything snapping back where it should go. Imagine an elastic band shrinking. Can you hear me, Andreas?”
Andreas growled through human teeth—a most unsatisfying sound. He regretted making the noise. His throat felt like the fires of hell had raged through him.
“Andreas? You need to answer me, or I’m gonna assume you’re feral,” came the male voice.
Andreas’s teeth were chattering and body shaking hard. He was suddenly so cold.
Naked.
“W-w-who are you?” he asked.
“There you go. Nice to meet ya. I’m Adam Carbone.”
“Th-th-that tells me nothing.”
“Adam,” Mary said to the phone, “he’s shivering violently.”
“Get him wrapped up and next to something warm as soon as you can. It’s hard work transitioning from a body that has fur to one that doesn’t.”
She began to move as if to follow that instruction, but Andreas grabbed her by the waist and kept her atop him. She was warm and soft, and she smelled so fucking fertile.