[pre-story]I had a fit of inspiration, and this just kinda happened. [redacted] Anyways, enjoy![/pre-story]
My husband is a kind, sweet, and gentle man. When we first started dating, my mother was worried about what would happen if he got violent. After all, I’m a ‘delicate little lotus flower’, a tiny, slender Japanese girl barely five foot and almost a hundred pounds, and he’s a 6’3” of blond German muscle, a full hundred pounds heavier. But I knew from the moment we met I didn’t have to worry. He was soft-spoken, emotional, and almost painfully shy, a giant teddy bear of a man. He was aven afraid of my family’s lapdog when he came to visit. I had to be the one to ask him out, to ask him to marry me, and I still have to make the first move when it comes to sex. Not that the sex is bad, mind you, John is big where it counts, too, and he practically worships me in bed. He’s passionate, attentive, and eager to please. Sometime he’ll just spend hours making me cum over and over with his fingers and tongue… But while I am absolutely not complaining about that part, I have to admit, the one thing that bothers me is that he’s so damn precious with me. He touches me like he’s afraid I’ll break, and he feels super-guilty the moment he does something even remotely approaching ‘rough‘.
Thankfully, he’s got a secret side that even he doesn’t know about. Well, not fully. When we first started spending the night together, he warned me, sometimes he has… nightmares, about dogs. Some sort of trauma from when he got attacked by a wolf as a kid. And during these nightmares, he apparently fights them in his sleep, because when he wakes up after, the room is always trashed. He told me, if he should start to thrash around in bed, I should just get out before he accidentally hurts me. I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell him the truth.
The first time I saw it happen, I was terrified. It was just after moving in together, I was reading some trashy romance novel by moonlight, when he began to grunt and groan, his brow furrowing, his head whipping side-to-side. I remembered his warning when he began to writhe, fingers clawing at the sheets. I hurriedly clambered out of bed, but I was curious, perhaps too curious for my own good, and so I stayed, crouching down at the far side of the bed, peeking over the edge, watching as he began to thrash more and more violently. It was a little frightening, watching my normally-gentle husband swinging his fists around wildly. His face was twisted into a grimace, a furious snarl, eyes squeezed shut… Then they snapped open, but they weren’t the soft brown that so often stared into mine, they were gold.
Shock and awe paralyzed me as the transformation began. His blond hair turned steely-gray, then spread, more hair growing out from all over, a rapidly-thickening coat of fur. His body expanded, bones and joints grinding and popping as he added at least another foot in height and broadened his chest and shoulders considerably. His face contorted, nose and jaws stretching forward and merging into a muzzle, his gritted teeth sharpening to wicked fangs. I heard the sheets rips and shred as his fingers became claws... I remember the realization hitting me all at once. My husband was a werewolf.
In an instant, he scrambled up onto all fours, shredding the sheets as he disentangled his legs. He whipped his head around, golden eyes glowing as he searched the room, getting his bearings. He paused, sniffed the air, and turned, his golden eyes locking with mine. I swear, I felt my heart stop. I panicked. I bolted, scrabbling to get my feet under me as I took off running toward the door. I only made it about five feet before he hit me, hard, a full-body tackle that knocked me to the ground, the two of us sliding across the hardwood a few feet before he roughly pinned me down, claws pushing into my skin, threatening to break through with just the tiniest bit more pressure.
I thought I was dead, but the he stopped, staring down at me. “H-honey?” I called, hoping some part of him could hear me, bring him back to his senses… I was wrong. He raised one claw high, then brought it down in a ferocious swipe. I closed my eyes and recoiled, fearing that this was the killing blow. Those claws raked across my skin, leaving little red lines in their wake, but my flesh was not their target. With a mighty rip, my flimsy nightgown was no more, leaving me naked before his hungry gaze. I’m a little self-conscious about my figure, I know I’m not exactly curvy, but John always loved my slender body and perky breasts. Even then, that hadn’t changed, it seemed, and my eyes widened as I saw the bright red shaft emerging from his sheath. John was normally a thick nine inches, but now, he was even thicker, and probably a foot long, if you counted the baseball-sized knot at the base of his cock, with a tapered point on the end.
The sight of that thing was… impressive, to say the least, but it wasn’t quite enough to override my survival instinct. Summoning up all my strength, I shoved at his arm, and managed to shift it enough to squirm free. I heard him snarl as I bolted for the door again. I don’t know why I thought the door would actually stop him, but I was scared. I almost made it. I had my hand on the doorknob when he hit me from behind, his whole body slamming into me, driving me against the door, pinning me flat and driving the air out of me. He snarled in my ear, then I felt his jaws close on the back of my neck, teeth pressing against my skin threateningly. I froze, stiff as a board.
He apparently decided that was enough of a sign of submission for him to get started. His hands, claws really, wrapped around my waist and hefted me up, lifting my feet off the floor, leaving my face and chest pinned to the door, his teeth still on my neck. I felt him line himself up for a half a second, then, without warning, slam his length into me. I screamed. He was huge, and I was more afraid than aroused at the time. It HURT. But he didn’t care. He drew his hips back slammed them forward again, then again, pounding me like an animal, a savage beast. I screamed again, balling my fists to deal with the pain as he pounded into me, his massive knot hammering against the entrance to my pussy relentlessly.
I don’t know how long he fucked me like that, savage and brutal. I do know that it didn’t take long for my body to respond to the animalistic pounding. I felt myself getting wet. It was all so wrong. I was being raped, by my husband, but not my husband, by this wolf-thing that my husband became, by an animal that wasn’t an animal… Somehow, though, the wrongness just made it… hotter. Once that monstrous wolf-cock was nice and wet, the sensations swiftly shifted, pain turning to pleasure. He was so big, so strong, so wild, so commanding… I was powerless to resist him, and something in me responded to that.
Soon, I was moaning uncontrollably as he pounded me from behind, driving my face and chest against the door with each thrust, savagely fucking me as my legs twitched and danced helplessly, scrabbling for the floor well out of their reach. Again and again, I felt that massive knot slam against my tight little pussy, but it was just too fucking huge to push in. Well, it seemed that was simply unacceptable for him. With a growl, he pulled his cock from my thoroughly-soaked pussy and lifted me bodily. I blinked, my mind clearing without that monster pounding at my pleasure-centers. Just as the idea of trying to struggle returned, he threw me down onto the bed, hard enough to make me bounce, then pounced on top of me. My legs were abruptly pinned up toward my chest, spread wide around his hips as he moved on top of me, his massive arms wrapping around my shoulders, holding me tight against the furry bulk of his chest. His fur smelled musky and male... I felt his cock probe against the entrance to my pussy, and in a panic I beat my fists against his sides, but it was like punching a brick wall, if he noticed, he didn’t show it.
I screamed again as he drove into me once more, his massive bulk crushing down on me as he filled me completely with his brutal wolf-cock, but this time, the scream was tainted with a note of pleasure. Just like before, he began to thrust like a jackhammer the moment he was inside me, pounding into me deep and hard, that pointed tip probing at the entrance to my womb with each stroke. I writhed, as much as I could. The pleasure was too much, he was so big, so thick, so rough and dominant! Every instinct in my body screamed that this was perfect, that with was right. My pounding fists turned to clawing nails, raking through his steely fur, tugging at handfuls as I cried out with pleasure. My legs unthinkingly curled around his waist, heels digging into his ass, pulling him down with each thrust. I came hard and fast, my orgasmic screams muffled in his broad, furry chest. He didn’t stop thrusting for a second. He was a machine, an animal, he didn’t care about my pleasure, only his own release.
I think it was around my fifth orgasm that it happened. He gave a particularly brutal thrust, slamming that massive knot against me, but this time, he pushed, and I spread open, the pointed tip of his cock piercing into my womb as that monstrous knot popped into me. I screamed again, stiffening as the beast knotted me. His thrusts shifted immediately. Instead of long, deep strokes, he jerked his trapped knot in me like a jackhammer, short rapid-fire thrusts that pushed and pulled at the monstrous orb as it rapidly began to swell. I writhed, trapped beneath his massive, muscular frame, cumming again and again, uncontrollably.
The monstrous knot doubled in size, stretching me to my absolute limits, painfully, deliciously. He slammed his hips forward one final time, and arched his back, throwing his lupine head skyward to let out a howl as he began to cum. I moaned as it hit me, wave after wave of hot, thick, creamy cum, poured directly into my womb. It just kept coming, it was like a firehose, filling me completely, in moments, then it just kept filling me. I groaned, feeling my womb stretch with the sheer volume of werewolf cum pouring into me.
He held me there, our bodies as close as possible, for what felt like an eternity. We were still, silent except for mutual panting, his monstrous knot keeping the two of us tied together, his hot, creamy cum sloshing in my womb. I almost drifted off to sleep in his arms when I felt the knot pop from my hole, a flood of creamy wolf-cum pouring from my abused pussy. Not for long, though, he swiftly rolled me over onto all fours, his jaws closing on the back of my neck, and slammed that titanic cock back inside me, fucking me with every bit the savage hunger he had the first time.
I took at least four loads of werewolf cum before I passed out. I woke up the next morning sore and aching all over, bruised where he’d gripped my body for leverage as he fucked me through the night. John was back to normal, and he cried, seeing what he’d done to me. I hugged him and told him it was alright, that I knew he would never intentionally hurt me, and that I would always be there for him when he needed comfort, even in his nightmares. He ended up making me breakfast in bed as an apology, and I had to wear long sleeves for a week after that, but later, he did confess vaguely remembering me in his dreams, and feeling less violent than usual because of it.
His transformations have become a monthly ritual. For 27 days, I get to enjoy my husband’s kind, gentle touch and talented tongue, and then, every full moon, he transforms and makes me his bitch for the night. I get the sweetness I love, and the rough treatment I crave. It may not be normal, but it works for me. I’ve come to love those wild nights...
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