I wished I could punch him or break his nose again. Or maybe all his teeth this time! But though I struggled, the two of them were stronger than me and I had my hands cuffed behind my back. No matter how I twisted and turned, they dragged me over to the curved surface of the breeding bench.
Now that I was looking down on it, I saw that the bench had two large holes cut in one end of it. What the hell were those for, I wondered ominously?
Unfortunately, I was about to find out.
I was still just wearing the T-shirt Nick had given me to sleep in the night before and by now it was stained with the sticky nectar my breasts kept producing. Boyd grabbed the V-neck of the shirt and ripped it right down the middle, baring me completely.
“Mmmph!” I exclaimed, trying to kick him.
“Shut up, bitch! Gotta let the nectar flow free!” Bobby Aiken slapped me so hard my ears rang and I felt dizzy for a moment. I staggered and nearly fell and both men bellowed laughter as they hauled me upright again.
My captors took advantage of my momentary disorientation to shove me down, over the curved surface of the breeding bench. I soon saw what the holes were for—my breasts hung down through them, the honey-like nectar flowing freely from my nipples now.
They strapped my ankles to the bottom legs of the bench and then did something to it which made it split nearly in half. This forced my thighs open and the curve of the bench, which was right under my abdomen and lower belly, ensured that my pussy was tilted up, on full display.
“God-damn look how wet she is!” I heard Bobby Aiken say in a slightly hoarse voice. “Never seen a bitch so deep in the Breeding Fever before.”
“Let her alone,” Boyd said warningly. “You know what the Chief told us—she’s to be used as bait. You breed her now and your scent will be all over her—then the cursed wolf will come after you. Is that what you want?”
“Fuck no!” Bobby shivered. “Don’t worry—I’ll leave her alone. For now,” he added, leaning down to leer at me.
They uncuffed my hands and stripped off the remains of the T-shirt. I wanted to fight them but before I could even try to do anything, they were buckling my wrists into the leather cuffs attached to the front legs of the breeding bench. Then I heard Boyd say,
“Watch out—he’s changing! Better get her out there fast before he finishes!”
With that, the two of them lifted the wooden bench with me still strapped to it and ran it out to the clearing where the huge wolf still circled and Nick was beginning to Shift.
Boyd and Bobby left me there and ran like cowards for the trees, which meant I had a front row seat to see my foster brother change.
Back on that fateful night when Nick had lured Gary Spaulding out and basically castrated him, I hadn’t seen his Shift. In fact, I had barely seen his beast at all—it had been dark and he was already far away when I caught a glimpse of him.
This time, I saw it all.
I watched as the fur flowed over Nick’s skin—silver fur—and covered his body. He burst out of his jeans, just like McCain had burst out of his trousers, but he never went down to all fours. Instead, he seemed to just grow bigger and bigger until I swore he was at least eight feet tall—though it was hard to measure, considering I was strapped down on my stomach over the breeding bench and I had to crane my head to see.
The change in Nick’s face wasn’t as extreme as the change to McCain’s. He didn’t become a full wolf, though his face did lengthen and his ears moved up to the top of his head. He was like a man/wolf hybrid, just as he had told me, I thought numbly, looking up at him. And somehow that was more frightening than him becoming an actual wolf.
It was in his eyes that I saw it the most, I thought—they changed from forest green to pure, brilliant gold. And when I looked in those eyes, I didn’t see Nick staring back at me. Or not the Nick I knew. I remembered him saying that his beast was all id—all hunger and lust and desire. And that was what I saw when the beast looked at me—pure lust.
He seemed to forget about McCain’s wolf and his snout wrinkled as he sniffed the air—doubtless smelling my “Heat” as Boyd and Bobby had called it. He took a step towards me, ignoring the giant wolf still facing him, and I saw that while his knees were bent backwards like a wolf’s and his feet had become enormous paws, his hands were still hands—just a hell of a lot hairier and bigger and the nails looked more like claws.