A Wolf And His Man - 5. An Unlikely Story

“You don’t much sound like you’re close with your parents, not from what you’ve said.” Oli agreed with his ears. “But at least you knew them. I was one of those proverbial kids that get left on the steps of hospitals. I had a foster family until I was five, but once I started school I got moved to a children’s home. There were two or three of those as I got moved around the country, social services trying to find me my ‘forever home’,” Boris laughed softly, “I’ve always been a stray.”

“Things are not generally considered hopeful in the care system once you get past the ‘adorable small child’ stage, so by the time I was nine, I was pretty much a no-hoper. There are thousands of kids like that, who have next to no chance at all of ever knowing the kind of life every book, TV show and movie will throw at you. We are society’s lost boys, and girls, though girls get rehomed easier.

“I hit puberty early, I was just thirteen when one night I was lying in bed, trying not to think about how bleak the rest of my life looked and trying not to respond as I listened to my roommate jerking off, when my body decided it didn’t like me anymore. I ran to the bathrooms, threw up into the toilet, and two minutes later I’d shredded my clothes and was standing staring at paws instead of hands. I was scared, so I ran.”

Boris’s voice fell silent. He sounded hoarse, as though he’d not spoken this much in years. Oli shuffled closer to him, pressing his muzzle against the man’s throat, his body thrumming gently with sympathy. They didn’t move until both their stomachs growled.

Oli huffed and jumped down off the sofa, pacing to the kitchen and stretching out his newly reformed muscles, flexing his toes as he walked. He bit the para-cord handle attached to the fridge and pulled, took out a bagged portion of chopped beef, closed the fridge with his rump and tore through the bag, empting it into the bowl he’d lain out earlier. The bag went into the flip top bin, and Oli looked up as he realised he was being watched.

“You’re like, the world’s most organised werewolf,” Boris smiled. He glanced at the extra bowl which had been left out for ‘Buddy’. “I’m almost sorry I’m not joining you.”

Oli hadn’t bought a whole load of fresh human food, because it would have gone off, but he was indeed, a very organised werewolf, and the cupboards were well stocked with dried pasta, sauces, things in tins and snack foods. Oli left his dinner and Boris followed him along the kitchen surface until Oli had chosen the correct cupboard, sat and pointed his nose upwards. Boris stared at the tins with a look of trepidation.

“You realise that I normally spend my human days eating out of dumpsters?” Boris arched an eyebrow at the contents of the cupboard, gently selecting a tin of meat filled ravioli in a tomato sauce. “I might get one soup-kitchen meal if I’m very lucky and chose to be near a bigger city.”

Oli stared at him in horror, his bark of surprise dying in his throat.

“Why did you think I wanted to stay so bad? I worked out that first day you were a werewolf, and I knew I had to try and make a go of things here.” Boris placed the tin on the work surface and sank to the floor. “And you’re so wonderful, and nice, and perfect, and lovely. Please let me stay with you. I hate being out there alone.”

Oli couldn’t bear the shaking yellow-green tremor of fear in his voice. He pushed himself into Boris’s lap, standing over him like he might protect a cub, pressing his ruff and muzzle into the man’s throat. Behind the fear his scent was smooth and intoxicating, wolf-flavoured but strange. Oli sniffed deeply, greedily storing the aroma away in his mind to come back to when he was alone.

He wanted, all of a sudden, to be human, to be able to pull Boris into his lap, wrap the man in his arms, to be able to murmur reassurances and condolences, to show him how sorry he was for all that had happened. But he couldn’t. In the end, Oli had to settle for licking Boris’s cheek, a gesture which felt both playful and hugely intimate, and wagged his tail for the man as he rubbed the tears from his eyes. He laid his ears out sideways and grinned, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

“I can stay?”

Oli barked in agreement.

Getting the ravioli out of the tin turned out to be much more complicated than Oli had first thought. Being wolf-shaped while trying to show Boris where things were and how to make dinner was awkward in the extreme. As he began to pace in a small, slightly frustrated circle, waiting for Boris to get the hang of the tin opener, Oli realised that having run away from human life and society when he was thirteen, Boris had probably never made his own dinner before. Oli made a mental note to teach the wolf how to cook as soon as he regained use of his opposable thumbs.

Eventually they managed to plate pasta and sauce without breaking anything or burning the kitchen down and Oli returned to his chuck steak dinner while Boris ate awkwardly at the breakfast bar with a fork. He reminded Oli of the Disney cartoon Beauty and the Beast, because Boris seemed to have very little idea of how to hold his fork, how to aim from plate to hand to mouth without getting sauce everywhere, or how to chew with his mouth closed.

Boris watched Oli refill his water bowl by means of the tap pulley and hose attachment, and when Oli looked up from his lengthy drink, he found Boris sitting on the floor, still watching him. Oli tilted his head to ask a question.

“Sorry.” Boris looked suddenly guilty, and Oli could easily imagine his ears turning back as he ducked his head apologetically. “Can I use your shower? And er… I’m really tired.”

Oli nodded. His freshly laundered bed wouldn’t be waiting for him when he got back from being furry, but on the upside, it would probably be the most comfortable thing Boris had slept on in a long time.

“Will you go hunting?”

Oli shook his head, he was exhausted.

Showing Boris how to use the shower was sort of a bust, and Oli left the young man to work out how to set the temperature himself, and lay down in the open doorway of the bedroom from the hall, watching the bed through sleepy shuttered yellow eyes. Turning into a wolf, and back again, always made him completely exhausted, and Oli would have gone to sleep hours ago if it wasn’t for his company. And what company that had turned out to be! Oli wondered what the chances were of making accidental friends with a werewolf who approached the condition from the other direction. The wolf who had eaten with him, lain on his couch smelling like pond water with an injured ankle and watched him while he slept.

And while he’d not slept. He’d lain in bed while Buddy-the-wolf, now Boris-the-man, had watched him. It had felt sort of illicit and wrong, but harmless. Now Oli squirmed against the carpet and buried his face under his paws in shame. He’d hoped when Buddy came to live with him to have company during his time of the month, but this hadn’t quite been what he’d envisaged.

*

“Hey mum.” Oli dropped his small kit bag by the front door and smiled at his mother coming through from the kitchen. She was making something that made all his wolf senses want to sit up and beg. “What’s cooking?”

“I was making chicken and beef treats for your father, you too.” She vanished back into the kitchen and Oli followed her. There was a tray covered in bone shaped biscuits ready for the oven, and they smelt amazing. She slapped Oli’s knuckles with a wooden spoon as he reached for the tray of treats. “Not a chance kiddo.” She smiled. “You’ve left your visit a little late. Full moon is in about four hours.”

“I know.” Oli bit his lip softly. “I was sort of hoping I could stay here this month.”

“Well of course sweetie!” Oli hugged his mother back as she made his ribs creak in her excitement. “You know you’re always welcome to come home. Your room is all straightened up. You hungry?”

“No.” Oli looked longingly at the treats. “I don’t eat before a change, it just all comes back up.”

“Oh sweetheart,” She smiled. “Never mind. You go and get yourself settled. Your father is in his workshop, I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

Oli’s room hadn’t changed since he’d left over a year previously. His bed was newly washed and made. The shelves looked bare now, empty of much of his stuff. The wardrobe contained only the clothes that either no longer fit or he didn’t ever actually wear. His mother had begged to keep some of his paintings, though Oli had taken nearly all of his graphical work for his portfolio, and there were a few sketches still pinned or tacked to the walls. Sitting by the foot of the bed was a dog bed.

It had been Ruff’s old bed, and Oli had insisted on keeping it, not knowing it would be useful as well as sentimental. During that first month when his body had betrayed him and changed without his permission, Oli had discovered the smell of the bed, the ingrained scent of Ruff left from sleeping in it for so many years, invaded his mind and made him happy and sad in a way he hadn’t known was possible. Ruff had smelt of deep placid blues struck through with the rich green of the landscape. He had been a very calm dog, steadfast and loyal, and Oli loved that he could tell all of that just by the way Ruff smelt. Other dogs would have known it too, would have known how much Ruff had loved his master.

After half an hour of purposeless fussing, Oli abandoned his room and padded across the garden to his father’s workshop. Every now and then he felt sorry for Alexander; that his secret had forced the werewolf to spend four or five days a month shut inside his workshop and den. Granted when Oli was asleep, or out at school, he had not been locked up, but still. Since he’s moved out, it was easier for Oli to talk to his father about meaningless things, like the weather and the state of the economy, but he still couldn’t bear to discuss anything even remotely related to their shared condition. He knocked before stepping into the cedar-wood scented space.

“Hi dad.”

“Who’s a good girl then? You’re such a good girl.” He father’s voice dropped in pitch. “Hello Oliver.”

He father was reclining in his desk chair, and Anastasia was lying between his legs with her paws on his shoulders, alternately licking his face and nuzzling his chest. Her tail wagged hard, and with every waft Oli caught the scent of her, rich and pink and somehow… moist. She’s been spayed, Oli remembered his parents discussing it on one of his visits, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be in heat. Oli coloured at the thought.

“Ana got big.” The dog wuffed at him as he stepped around the end of the main work bench. Oli had never gotten close with the thick set fluffy German Shepherd. She was nothing like Ruff had been, though she seemed to love his father well enough. “How are you?”

“We’re well. Are you in for the duration?”

“Yeah.” Oli shifted his weight from foot to foot. Already, the tips of his fingers were starting to tickle and prickle. Soon he would start to go numb in the extremities and after that, Oli didn’t like to think about what happened. “Mum’s making dog biscuits again. Chicken and beef flavour.”

As though she could understand what he said, Anastasia barked, jumping down from Alexander’s lap and heading for the main door. Oli glanced at his father and looked away quickly, spinning on his heel.

“Dad!”

“Huh? Oh…” Oli tried very deliberately not to listen to his father adjusting his very prominent and very nearly visible hard on. “Sorry son.”

“That was way more information than I really wanted.” Oli shook his head to try and shake the image of the dog-in-heat nuzzling his father-in-heat from his brain, wishing he had some bleach to help expedite the process. He couldn’t work out if the whole thing was deliberate, so he stopped on the other side of the workshop door to allow his father the benefit of the doubt, and watched the dog snuffle around the large, grassy backyard.

“Oliver…”

“You know I don’t really like it when you use my full name.” Oli sighed. “It always feels like you’re going to tell me off.”

“Do you want to go for a run later? We can chase rabbits in the moonlight, just the two of us?”

“Yeah, OK.” Oli glanced sideways at his father. He knew when Alexander went out alone he often caught his prey, killed it and ate it, or brought the rabbits back to be processed once he was human. Oli’s mother didn’t much care for game, or skinning small previously cute animals, but she was a dab hand with a sharp knife, and surgery skills came in surprising handy when one was butchering things killed by your husband. Oli never caught anything, spooked at small noises, and didn’t really like the dark; but it was a chance to bond with his father, and Alexander seemed genuine enough. “I’m gonna go shower. I’ll change in the bathroom.”

“There’s no need…”

“I’ll still change in the bathroom.”

Oli had perfected his change somewhat, but ever since leaving home, returning made him feel anxious. It was as though the wolf in his mind knew that he was no longer at home, that this was not a completely safe environment: this was not his territory. So when he was home, he changed in the bathroom. He couldn’t lock himself in, because of the absent nature of opposable digits after he’d grown fur, but Oli stripped off, completed his usual ablutions, and then sat in the bath with the shower head running softly above him. His toes had started to go numb as he’d brushed his teeth, and now his body shook and twisted and Oli shut his eyes and hoped he didn’t destroy his mother’s new shower curtains.

Damp fur was not wholly pleasant to walk around in, and didn’t smell great either. There was something about being wet, even wet and clean, that just filled the air with the overwhelming mouldy scent of damp-dog. Having shaken out his fur, Oli stood in the hallway and let his mother towel him dry before she patted his head and ruffled his ears gently.

“And how’s my best boy?”

Oli rolled his eyes and huffed.

“Just because you’re my only son Oliver, does not mean you can’t also be my favourite.” Oli decided not to complain: this was mum logic. “Your father is waiting for you. Try not to spook at the sheep again.” Oli growled softly. He’d been lying in the hedge, and a lamb without a sense of self-preservation had come up and sniffed him. It had been his first time out and he’d still not managed to live it down. “Have fun darling.”

Oli trotted downstairs, looking longingly at Ruff’s old dog bed for a moment as he passed his old room. His father wasn’t in the garden, and Oli followed his scent trail, a brighter green overlaid over the mesh of old scent on the lawn, towards the wood store out back of the workshop. As he pushed the door open with his nose, everything was red, lust flooding up his nostrils like mustard gas invading his brain. He stopped, and stared.

Apart from incredibly worrying forays into the internet in search of popular werewolf ‘facts’, he had never seen two canines having sex, but his mind picked out all of the lurid details in vibrant relief. Oli barked in surprise and shock and backed away from the door hard enough to get his head stuck on the wrong side, kicked the wood and dashed into the night. They had to have heard him, or smelt him. It was not possible that his intrusion and hasty departure had been unnoticed, but they hadn’t stopped. Oli didn’t want to see the images in his inner vision, but he couldn’t stop his mind from throwing them at him. His father, fully aroused and panting, fucking Anastasia like a bitch in season. The redness in the wood shed was only overlaid by the swollen pinkness of their joining flesh and Oli, having held onto the contents of his stomach this long, hurled the much digested remnants of his breakfast onto his mother’s lawn. Afterwards he still felt sick.

He had wanted company for the week, to not be alone in his house as a wolf, unable to talk to anyone, unable to listen to anything either. His experiment in working the radio with his paws had led to it smashing rather violently on the kitchen floor. But he didn’t want to have seen what he saw, didn’t want the words ‘my father is fucking an Alsatian’ going around and around in his head like a demented carousel. So Oli did something he had never done, vanished into the dark by himself, and ran across the Downs, all the way home.

*

“Oli?”

The wolf raised his muzzle from the floor, cocking an eyebrow spot at the naked, dripping form of Boris. He was holding a towel, and had been scrubbing at his hair, which now stood out, yet again, in untidy snaggles all over his head. Boris smiled softly at him.

“I used your toothbrush. Sorry.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, like he couldn’t believe how smooth they felt. “I haven’t been able to do that for like, three moons. It’s awesome.” He grinned unselfconsciously, and Oli watched as his new friends features lit up with yellow and gold joy. “I love the taste of toothpaste.”

Oli dropped an ear. Boris was sort of weird, but then, he’d not clocked enough hours as a human since he’d had his first shift to have gotten past being a teenager yet, and Oli worked out that there were certain things about his young friend which would be strange and surprising.

“Is it…” Boris bit his lip and shuffled his feet on the thick carpet. “I mean, you’ve been so nice already… can I…?” He glanced longingly at the bed and Oli barked softly. “Can I sleep in your bed?”

Oli wuffed softly, and nodded before laying his chin back between his paws on the carpet. He watched as Boris dropped the towel on the floor and climbed into the bed. The young man was naked and beautiful, a bit on the skinny side, but strong looking and athletic. Oli grimaced to think that he had masturbated while Boris watched. The young man might be thanking him for his kindness, but there was no way he still respected Oli after that.

“Hey…” Boris’s voice was quiet in the soft shadows after the light went out, and Oli got a hint of how he might have sounded when he was younger and human, before being a werewolf had taken hold of him. He sounded like he had when Oli had first woken up, strong, confident, compelling. “You want to stay down there? Come join me?” Boris patted the thick quilt and Oli flopped his tail and back and forth. He knew that he’d probably end up sprawled on the kitchen floor again, but it would be nice to fall asleep with company, regardless of how disinterested in him that company was. He stood and padded over to the bed before leaping smoothly onto the mattress.

He was about to curl up on the foot of the bed, when Boris’s fingers found his fur, and Oli snuffled at the man before lying down next to him, stretched out along the length of the bed. Boris turned so that he was on his side, his arm draped over Oli’s ribs. Oli was suddenly very aware of his breathing, of the heat of the young man, and of the soft red and pink scents of desire in the air. He wondered how good Boris’s human nose was, and hoped that the young man couldn’t tell he was in the company if a rather aroused wolf. Oli barked at himself in his head for his body’s inappropriate behaviour.

“Thank you Oli.” Boris stroked his fur, and placed an incredibly gentle kiss on his muzzle. “Thank you for giving me a home.”

Oli watched the young man as he drifted into sleep, and felt his heart begin to open up with white hot love. Some twisted, pessimistic part of his mind wondered how long such a feeling could last in the light of day, but right then, Oli decided that he didn’t care, and allowed himself to fall asleep under the probable delusion that he was loved back.