The Wolf in His Dreams

by Deirdre Bonneval

Copyright 2012 Deirdre Bonneval

***

"Look, you're not a wolf, all right?"
Lance stood in front of the bathroom mirror, defiant expression on his face, his eyes staring

back at him with conviction. "You're a human being. You have a human face, a human body, human
thoughts, human feelings. The whole lot." He took a deep breath. "This is ridiculous. Stop being an
idiot, there's nothing to worry about."

With that, he turned away and headed off into the shower. He was due at work in forty-five

minutes, but it had taken him some time to get out of bed that morning, and he was running slightly
late. He'd had one of those nightmares again - the ones with the wolves. As always, it was incredibly
vivid; almost frighteningly believable. He could practically sense the reality of it; feel the earth on his
paws, hear the leaves cracking underneath him; see the moon, shining brightly, lighting his way
through the darkened woods; smell the fresh air, the pines, the flowers. And his pack, surrounding
him, granting that warm feeling of comfort, familiarity. Protection. Brotherhood. It was all so real.
And yet it wasn't. Lance was no wolf. He was a man.

These persistent dreams had taken their toll on Lance, however. He wondered how long he

could keep their content a secret from his partner Matt. He'd already had to answer some questions
about why he was regularly waking up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, though he could
hardly mistake Matt's concern for anger or disappointment. Still, the more he dreamed about the
wolves, the more stressed out he became, and it was apparent to Matt as well. At work, too, he
found it difficult to concentrate, his mind often still reeling with the vivid imagery.

"Everything all right?" Matt looked up from his newspaper, his eyebrows raised, as Lance

stepped into the kitchen, now fresh from his shower and dressed up for work.

"Yeah, fine."
"I made you a cup of coffee."
"Thanks." Lance smiled. He stroked Matt's back as he walked past him on the way to the fridge.
"Did you have one of those dreams again?"
"Nah, just... nothing, really. Bad night, that's all."
Matt was hardly convinced. "You know you're going to have to tell me about it some day." he

said. "I don't want to bug you about it but you've been having these sleeping problems for a long
time now."

"Yeah, well, what are you gonna do?" Lance sat down at the table with his breakfast, a couple

of toasts and a fresh, sliced tomato, wasting no time digging in - he was late enough for work as it
was.

"Well, you could see a doctor, for starters." Matt offered. "That's what they're for." He watched

as Lance chomped down on his toast hurriedly and chuckled.

"Hey, some of us have places to be." Lance mumbled as he chewed. "Not everyone can work

from home."

They finished their morning roundup and went their separate ways for the day, Lance hurrying

to the office and Matt to his computer for his freelance design work. Lance, as always, had trouble
keeping away flashes of his dreams on occasion, but it was otherwise an uneventful day at the office,
and he came back home at around seven. Matt had already prepared dinner.

"So, do you want to see a doctor about the dreams?" Matt asked as they sat down to eat. Lance

frowned; he hadn't expected Matt to be so direct. He had questioned him before about his dreams,
yes, but had always made sure not to press him too much. And Lance, hoping the dreams would go
away on their own, rather resented the notion of opening up about them, either to Matt or to a

doctor.

"Not really... I don't think it's a big deal."
"Will you tell me what they're about?"
"I'd rather not."
Matt dropped the subject, sensing it was no use pressing further. That night, Lance dreamed

again. Again, he was a wolf. And again, he was in the woods, with his pack. This time, though, they
were on the hunt. He could pick out the scent of his - of their - prey, and they approached it
together, encircling it. Quickly, they pounced on it, their powerful jaws biting into its flesh, their
sharp teeth tearing it apart, pulling it to the ground. Its red, warm blood poured out, streaming down
its body, the last gasps of life leaving it as they feasted on it, gnawing and chewing the fresh meat.
Lance could smell death around him. The taste of raw, bloodied meat filled his mouth, overwhelming
him. He woke up suddenly, his body sweating and his breath heavy. Rising up, he tried to steady
himself as he shook.

"Did you have a nightmare again?" He heard Matt's muffled voice behind him. He was still half-

asleep.

"Yeah..." Matt shuffled under the blanket briefly, then rose up as well alongside Lance. He put

his hand on Lance's shoulder gently, caressing it.

"This has to stop, Lance." he said, rubbing his eyes clean with his other hand. "Will you please

tell me what this is all about? I want to help."

Lance took a deep breath, still trying to recover from the sheer intensity of the dream. His head

dropped as he wrestled with himself, trying to figure out if he should tell Matt, and then, exactly
what or how. Matt's arms wrapped around him and he kissed his back softly, encouragingly. "You
know I'm here for you."

"I know..."
"Then what is it?"
"It will sound incredibly stupid."
"It can't be if it's had such a dramatic effect on you."
Lance turned around to face him. He recognized the concern in his boyfriend's eyes. He sighed.
"Well, I've been having these dreams about..." he paused for a moment, almost unable to utter

the words. "Well, about wolves." Matt nodded, his expression unchanged, though Lance could swear
he saw a hint of surprise in his eyes. "They're just really vivid. I don't get it."

"What kind of dreams are they?"
"You know, just... wolf stuff." Lance waved his hands dismissively. "Running, hunting, howling,

those sorts of things."

"You mean that you are a wolf, or do you just see them or what?"
"No, I am an actual wolf in them." Lance sighed again. "I can feel every sensation so powerfully,

so intensely. It's crazy. It's as if all my senses are perfectly attuned to those of the wolves, and I can
sense whatever they do."

Matt looked at him, unsure what to say. "Well recurring dreams generally have a meaning," he

began, "And if they're so vivid I'm sure there's a reason for it. We should book you an appointment
with a doctor."

"What's a doctor going to do?" Lance argued, frustrated.
"A therapist, I mean."
Lance groaned. "A therapist? It's just a bunch of dreams."
"But look at the effect they have on you." Matt countered. "And you've been having them for a

long time, it's been several months now." He put his hand on Lance's shoulder. "I really appreciate
that you've told me about them but I think you need to tell a professional as well."

Lance collapsed back into bed and Matt followed, wrapping his arms around him. They lay

together, huddled closely, for a while, both unsure how to proceed. Lance hoped he could avoid
committing to anything by simply not answering; Matt, as often was the case, didn't want to press
further and risk angering Lance. Still, though, he felt the moment might be right. Lance had just

confessed the true content of these nightmares, after all. Fearing the opportunity might slip away, he
decided to reprise the suggestion.

"Shall we make an appointment tomorrow?" he whispered.
"Okay..." Lance finally agreed, too tired to argue. Though hardly enthusiastic, he knew it was

the right thing to do.

"Great." Matt smiled and kissed him, and they embraced. Their lips pressed together

passionately, and Matt rolled on top of Lance, his hands moving down to his waist, stroking the
muscled, athletic body. He kissed his chest as Lance ran his hands down his back, enjoying Matt's
soft, loving touch. Their passion grew as they continued loving each other, Matt sliding down
Lance's body, to his boxer shorts. He slipped his hands underneath, and his fingers stroked Lance's
erection. Lance moaned slightly as his boxers were pulled down and Matt's lips pressed onto his
awaiting cock. Matt licked him up and down, his spit caressing Lance's cock, covering it, then
sucked on his balls briefly as his hands stroked up and down the shaft. Then, rising up, he took Lance
into his mouth. Lance groaned in delight and his hands pressed down on Matt's head, pushing him
down. Matt began to blow him, bobbing his head up and down on Lance's cock as he pleasured him.

Lance relaxed. Matt knew how to work him, and he so desperately needed his loving treatment

after such an intense dream. Let alone after revealing the truth to Matt - a truth that he'd been hiding
for many months. Matt's soft, wet lips caressed his cock, sliding up and down swiftly along his shaft
as his hands squeezed his balls tightly. Closing his eyes, Lance thought about how much he admired
his man. They'd been together for some years now, having lived together for the past three, and their
relationship was going well. They were soulmates, surely, destined to be together. That Matt could
be so supportive of him, not only now, after he'd told him about the wolves, but also during the past
months, as it became clear that Lance was hiding something - proved how close they were. A weight
had lifted from Lance's shoulders. He was glad that he'd revealed the truth to his lover.

Matt continued sucking on Lance's cock, varying the speed of his movements and the depth that

he took him in. Gradually he began to move quicker, fully aware that they both had to get up early
the next morning, and not wishing to delay their sleep much longer. Lance felt his orgasm
approaching, and he moaned lightly. Matt's mouth worked him relentlessly, sucking him onwards,
showing no intent of delaying the inevitable. Lance came, his hand pressing Matt's head down, his
body tensed up and nearly frozen. A few seconds later, he released his grip on Matt's hair and
relaxed. Matt swallowed quickly and rose up, laying his head on Lance's chest as it heaved up and
down. Wrapping his arm around his lover, Lance pulled up the sheet over them. They fell asleep.

Lance had made the appointment at the therapist for later in the week, and Matt joined him,

partly for moral and emotional support, and partly because he suspected Lance might not be entirely
cooperative otherwise. It was not as productive as Matt had hoped, the therapist suggesting that it
might be a case of obsessive-compulsive disorder, but qualifying it by saying that he would of course
need more time to make a proper diagnosis. He offered them treatment at what they thought to be an
exuberant price, assuring them that it could only be solved through long-term therapy.

"It's the nature of obsessive-compulsive disorder." he smiled at them. "The root of these

unwanted thoughts, which in your case appear primarily in dreams, can only be understood through
long-term treatment."

"Right." Lance nodded.
"You say these thoughts appear outside of your dreams as well, on occasion."
"Yes."
"And you try to stop these thoughts in a compulsive manner by rejecting them, or by trying to

logically prove to yourself that they cannot be true." the therapist continued, and Lance nodded in
affirmation. "Yet they persist and they remain. That is how OCD generally works. It is entirely
treatable, but we would have to get down to the root of the matter, and that takes time and
dedication." The doctor eyed them carefully, waiting for a confirmation. Lance looked at Matt, who
shrugged at him, then turned back to the doctor.

"All right." he said.

They arranged for weekly appointments, and Matt, though he knew and expected that this

would be the most reasonable and likely outcome, couldn't help but be slightly disappointed at the
lack of direct, immediate advice. Still, they'd made some progress, and even Lance himself seemed
somewhat relieved.

Having actively pursued a course of action Lance and Matt both went to sleep that night

decidedly calmer. Lance was not expecting another dream. It was unusual that he'd had them two
nights in a row. It'd be utterly ridiculous if he had three in a row. His subconscious was surely not
dominated by these wolves to such a degree, he reasoned. He was wrong.

Again, the wolves came. And again, Lance was there with them. This time, they felt closer,

though. More present. More real. As if they were physically near him. As if they were hunting him
down. The full moon shone in the blackened sky above, lighting their path. And yes, again: he was
with them. A wolf - hunting himself. Hunting his human form. They arrived at the outskirts of town,
stopping briefly on the hill overlooking it. From there, he could see Matt's and his house, where he
was sleeping; he saw it, and he knew they were coming. They were coming to claim him. It was
inevitable. He felt it. He sensed it. He knew it. Their howls pierced the silent night as they planned
their approach. Yes, he knew it. They were coming for him. Tonight. Now.

Lance woke up. He was breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating in panic. Matt instinctively

woke up next to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked. No answer. "Lance." Matt grabbed his arm, but Lance shook it off.

"Lance, what's wrong?"

"They're coming..." Lance muttered.
"Who's coming?"
"The wolves." Lance took a deep breath. "They're coming to get me."
Matt looked at him, almost in pity. He once again put his hand on Lance's arm softly. This time,

Lance didn't shake it off.

"It's all right, Lance." he said. "It's just a dream."
"No!" Lance raised his voice suddenly. "It's real. I'm telling you, Matt..." he turned to face him,

his eyes almost tearing up, nearly on the verge of a breakdown. "They're coming, I can feel it. I saw
it happen. I was there with them. As if I was hunting myself."

"Lance, just relax. Breathe." Matt rose up and began to massage Lance's shoulders, trying to

soothe him. "We can get you some sleeping pills or something, you don't have to be going through
this. And you've got the appointment next week, it'll be okay."

Lance shook his head. "No," he said, "This is something else. It's not just dreams. It's not just a

disorder. There's something seriously wrong, Matt." He breathed deeply again. "I don't know what it
is, but there's something wrong. I've never had nightmares that were so vivid before. It was almost
like an out-of-body experience. I was a wolf."

"But you're not a wolf, Lance." Matt, though doing his best to support him gently, was getting a

little exasperated. "You're a man, trust me. And you're not out there, you're here with me. Indoors. In
our bed."

Lance couldn't shake the feeling. Even Matt's touch couldn't help calm him down. He shook his

head again. "I'm a wolf, Matt. I'm a fucking wolf. That's what it feels like."

"No, you're not. You're a person, all right? These are just dreams, and we're going to take care

of them."

"What if I am, though?" Lance suddenly turned to face Matt, the expression on his face that of

utter desperation, as if his greatest fear had just materialized. "What if I am a wolf?" He could hear
his own mind, his brain, his reason, mocking him as he uttered the words. Here he was, legitimately
going insane. "How do we know what's real and what isn't?"

Matt sighed in frustration. "I'm telling you what's real, Lance. I'm here right now, telling you

that you are not a wolf, okay? Jesus christ." He slammed down onto the bed.

Lance looked at him through his teary eyes and a tinge of guilt came over him. "I'm sorry, Matt,

I don't know what I'm talking about."

"You sound like you're going crazy."
"It feels like I am."
"You're not. You have some issues that need to be resolved but you are not a fucking wolf,

okay?"

"I can't explain these dreams otherwise."
"You don't need to explain them, the therapist will have to do that. That's his job."
Lance sighed again and laid back down. His mind was racing with thoughts. He couldn't make

sense of any of it. He knew that he wasn't a wolf; he knew it. He had the body of a human, there was
simply nothing more to it. Surely? But still... how could these dreams persist so? And why could he
not rid himself of them? It almost felt like a message. Something, or someone, was compelling him to
dream these dreams, to think these thoughts. He found himself thinking back to the werewolf myth;
men and women who would transform into wolves involuntarily for a night, then wake up in the
morning with no memories of anything they had done. But that's ridiculous, Lance thought.
Werewolves are a myth - a figment of humanity's imagination. An attempt by less knowledgeable
cultures to explain unsolved murders, to shift blame, to worship the occult. A myth; not science.
That's all it was.

Lance was almost afraid to go back to sleep. For the rest of the night the thoughts haunted him

again and again. Could he really be a werewolf? Could this be the beginning of his transformation?
But how would he have been infected? And then, as always, he berated himself - such ridiculous
thoughts. That he could even for a moment entertain the notion that he was a mythical creature - a
monster - was patently absurd. He turned to look at Matt, now sleeping again, and the tinge of guilt
returned - feeling that he had somehow wronged the love of his life. He tried again to sleep, but
couldn't.

Lance spent the next day, all throughout work, looking up the myths surrounding werewolves,

in an almost desperate attempt to permanently purge the thoughts from his mind. He read up on all
the various explanations for the creation of the myth. He knew there was no chance that they could
be real, but still could not remove that tiny element of doubt from his mind. Looking up experts on
the werewolf myth, he decided to pay one, a Professor Lambert at a nearby university, a visit.

"Are you kidding me?" Matt said angrily. "A werewolf expert? You've gone completely insane."
"Just bear with me, I feel like I need to do this." Lance answered sheepishly as they sat down for

dinner.

"Werewolves are a fucking myth, Lance!"
"I know, I know, but I just want to learn a bit more..."
"You think you're a werewolf now, is that it?" Matt glared at him incredulously. "You think

you're a werewolf."

"Well..."
"This is absurd. Werewolves do not exist! Do you hear what I'm telling you?" Matt shouted.

Lance couldn't really hold it against him - the words sounded just as absurd coming out of his own
mouth. "Werewolves do not exist in real life! They are a myth! A myth, Lance!"

"I know... but I just want to hear some more about it, just to get it out of my system, you

know?" Lance pleaded. "You don't have to come if you don't want to, I can just go on my own."

Matt didn't answer. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle a 'specialist' telling his boyfriend that

he was or was not a werewolf. What an utterly insane notion. He sighed. "I'll come if you really want
me to but you have to know that I find this whole thing really disconcerting, and I've almost the mind
to lock you up in some insane asylum if you keep going with this bullshit about werewolves." he
said. "It's one thing to have recurring dreams but it's another thing entirely to start believing in things
that you know to be fiction."

"I know, I don't blame you." Lance smiled meekly.
"You're just really making me worried, Lance."
"I'm sure it'll get better. I'm just kind of confused, is all."
"You got that right."

Professor Lambert, researcher of history and expert in folklore and myth, greeted them as they

walked into his office. Lance hadn't told him exactly what he wanted to talk about other than it
involved werewolves, but Lambert was thrilled that someone else had taken an interest in the subject
of myth and folklore, and was more than happy to share his knowledge.

"What can I do for you?" he smiled at them as he reclined in his chair, motioning for them to sit

down.

"Well," Lance began hesitantly, "I was wondering if you could tell me some things about the

werewolf myth."

The professor nodded and smiled. "You'll have to be more specific than that, I'm afraid. What

exactly would you like to know?"

"Well, have there been any recent cases of, for example, people transforming into werewolves or

thinking they were werewolves, or that sort of thing?" Lance's voice still carried a hint of
embarrassment. Matt could barely stop his eyes rolling.

The professor narrowed his eyes quizzically at Lance. "Why do you want to know about that? I

thought you'd be interested more in the myth behind werewolves. That's really more my expertise."

"I know," Lance acknowledged, "Well it's just..." he stumbled momentarily. "I've been having

these weird dreams lately," he began, almost apologetically glancing at Matt, seated at his side, "and
I've been wondering if you've heard any similar stories before."

Lambert's eyes narrowed further. "What kind of dreams?"
"About wolves. Seeing myself as a wolf, in a pack, you know..." Lance scratched his chin

uncomfortably. "Very vivid dreams."

"Lance is essentially going crazy in front of our very eyes." Matt joked, inciting a polite chuckle

from the professor.

"What else can you tell me about these dreams?" he asked.
"Well, I'm always part of a group of wolves... and we always do wolf-related things, like hunt,

and I guess run through the woods and stuff like that." Lance answered. "And then a couple of
nights ago I had a dream where I, as a wolf, was looking for myself, as a human. Staring down at my
house, as if I was hunting myself. It was incredibly uncomfortable. Again, I've never had such vivid
dreams before, let alone so many recurring dreams in such quick succession."

The professor's face fell, as if he had just heard bad news. It took on a grave expression and

Lance suddenly found himself slightly concerned at what he was about to hear.

"I've heard such stories before." Lambert sighed. "Always young people, men and women. Very

similar to your case. Always dreaming about wolves."

"Wait," Matt interrupted. "You're saying you've met people who have had similar dreams

before? Or you've heard about them, or what?"

"Both." Lambert replied. "I've personally met quite a few. From your description it sounds like

you're having essentially the same dreams as they were. Looking down at yourself as a wolf, vividly
experiencing what the wolf in your dream is experiencing. And then, towards the end, the feeling that
you are hunting yourself in your human form."

"Towards the end?" Lance raised his eyebrows. "What does that mean?"
The professor sighed again, visibly discouraged. "Unfortunately, in every single case that I've

heard about, the person who had these complaints...." he paused, his eyes shifting from Lance to
Matt and then back again, "Well, they all ended up disappearing."

Awkward silence fell on the room as he waited for a response. Lance shifted in his seat

uncomfortably.

"You mean, totally disappearing? Or just not getting in touch with you again?" Matt demanded.
"I mean completely disappearing, from their families, friends, the authorities. Never to be heard

from again." The professor looked at him, somewhat distressed at having to break the news to them.

"This is ridiculous." Matt exclaimed. "You're telling me every single person who has had dreams

about wolves ends up vanishing mysteriously." He turned to Lance. "Give me a break. Let's go."

"Not everyone who dreams about wolves, just those that have displayed this pattern of dreams."

Lambert raised his voice slightly at this challenge of his authority. "What I've heard here today
matches every single case I've heard about in previous years. And they always end up in the same
way."

"So what happens to all these people?" Lance interrupted the argument. The professor eyed him

again, weighting his words.

"My theory," he began, "And this is only a theory, mind you, is that they complete the

transformation." He glanced at Matt. His eyes were wide and his mouth agape, as he stared at
Lambert in complete disbelief; that this was coming from a professor at an established university was
unreal. Lambert continued: "I believe you may have werewolf DNA, Lance. Just as the others did.
And I believe that these genes have been activated, as they always do at a certain age, and your
ultimate transformation into a wolf is... well, it's just a matter of time really. This is not
unprecedented in history."

"Not unprecedented in history?!" Matt shouted. "This is idiotic! It's utter nonsense, werewolves

don't exist!"

Lance, ignoring Matt's despair, questioned the professor further, determined to learn more. "But

if I have werewolf DNA wouldn't it mean that my family - my parents - would have it too? And I
know they're not wolves. They're still around."

"I believe it tends to skip generations." the professor shrugged. "Don't ask me why, I wish I

knew. But all the others had perfect family histories as well. No disappearances or strange events,
dating back to their grandparents. Either it simply skips generations, or something else triggers it. I'm
afraid I don't know for sure."

They spent some more time at Lambert's office, though he had little additional information.

Lance promised to keep in touch, and Lambert assured him he would inform him if he heard any
relevant news or discoveries. When they arrived home Matt could hardly control his anger.

"You don't believe what he said to you, do you?" he asked.
"I do." Lance answered plainly. Frankly, he was too tired and too confused to play the anger

game with Matt now, and had no interest in an argument.

"How could you believe that? It's complete fabrication, a myth. He's full of shit!" Matt yelled,

his frustration having completely taken over.

"Let's just drop it, okay? We don't have to agree."
"What do you mean we don't have to agree? You're my boyfriend and I love you and I want to

help you but you're driving me nuts!" Matt stared at Lance in disbelief. Lance crashed onto the sofa
wearily.

"Look, I don't want to argue about it now."
"I can't take this much longer, Lance." Matt said. "I need to know what you're going to do

about this. You're still going to therapy next week, I hope."

"Yeah, probably."
"Because I don't know what else I can - "
"Look, just drop it, all right?" Lance shot a sudden glare at Matt's direction, cutting him off.

"Just forget it." he continued. "If you don't want to believe me, or you don't want to support me,
then just forget it and let me be."

"Not want to support you?" Matt could hardly believe what he was hearing. "What the hell do

you think I've been doing all this time?"

"All I've been getting from you is disbelief and doubt!" Lance suddenly raised his voice. He

looked at Matt angrily. "All you ever said about this is how stupid and idiotic and ridiculous it is, you
never for a second took anything I said or felt seriously. All you did was doubt me again and again."
He jumped up and approached Matt. "Now you want to tell me I'm crazy, that I'm insane, that I don't
know what I'm talking about. Why don't you just shut the fuck up about it if you can't provide some
real support."

Matt took a step back, somewhat shocked at Lance's tirade. He'd never seen him this angry

before; certainly he'd never used that kind of language with him in the past. There was something

different about him. Matt figured it was just the culmination of the sleepless nights and endless
nightmares that have taken their toll on Lance. Still, in a way he was turned on by it - Lance's fierce,
angry expression, his muscles bulging as his body tensed up, the testosterone shooting up through it.
He knew he was being crazy just thinking about it, but he was intensely attracted to him at that
moment, even after suffering through Lance's abuse.

"Fuck me." he said, simply. His eyes stared deep into Lance's.
"What?"
"Fuck me." Matt repeated.
Within a moment Lance was all over him, his hands down at his waist, pulling Matt closer, and

his lips pressing against Matt's aggressively. He kissed him forcefully, his hands quickly moving down
under Matt's shirt, pulling it up. Matt tossed it away as it came off, revealing his fit chest, and
Lance's hands ran over it. His tongue licked his chest, and he knelt down, quickly working to unzip
Matt's jeans. They came off swiftly, and the shorts thereafter, leaving Matt now entirely naked. Lance
quickly took off his own clothes, tossing them in a ragged pile on the floor, and he looked at Matt
almost menacingly, as if an animalistic lust for sex had taken over him. He pushed Matt to the wall,
and Matt braced himself as Lance spread his ass open, spit on his hand and rubbed it on his cock,
then slid it into him. Matt groaned as it filled him up, and Lance began to fuck him powerfully, as
they braced together against the wall.

He'd never fucked him that hard, Matt thought. Lance pounded his tight ass over and over

again, moving his cock in and out of him in swift motions, periodically lubing it up with more spit,
using his fingers to take some of Matt's as well. Matt moaned in ecstasy as Lance grabbed his erect
cock from behind and began to jerk it off. Their bodies started to sweat in the intense heat that they
were generating, and Lance licked it off Matt's back, his shoulders, his neck, savoring the salty taste.
Then, at once, he pulled out and shoved Matt onto the sofa, almost carelessly.

Matt braced himself once more, lying on his stomach, as Lance stood over him. Again, his ass

was spread open and again Lance penetrated him, this time spanking him as well as he continued to
fuck him. This was the most intense fucking Matt had ever received from Lance, and he loved it.
There was a sense of freedom, a lack of restraint, in Lance's movements and his almost complete
disregard for Matt as he just took him the way he pleased. Matt enjoyed every moment as it
continued, until finally, Lance came inside of him, grunting loudly as he climaxed, his cum filling
Matt's ass to the brim. He pulled out slowly and stumbled back, then turned to the bathroom to clean
up wordlessly. Matt lay on the sofa for a bit longer before eventually getting up and following. It
may have been worth riling him up, he thought, chuckling to himself, if that's the kind of sex he'd be
getting as a result. The thought occurred to him that sex could be a good way of getting Lance's
mind off his nightmares.

When he entered the bathroom Lance was already done cleaning himself, and he shot an

intimidating look at Matt.

"Nice of you to take care of me too." Matt teased.
"Do it yourself." Lance shot back. Matt smiled and began to jerk off as Lance watched. He

grasped his erect cock in his right hand and his left cupped his balls, squeezing them gently. He
rubbed it, moving over his shaft expertly, his mind still racing with thoughts of the intense fucking
he'd received. As he did, his eyes fixed on Lance's and he smiled, noticing how turned on Lance was
becoming. Seconds later, Lance fell to his knees and took Matt in his mouth, replacing Matt's hand
with his own, sucking him quickly, his full lips wrapped around the tip of Matt's cock and his tongue
caressing it as he pushed it in and out of his throat. He looked up at Matt and watched his face as it
twitched and his orgasm came over him. He felt him begin to pump the cum into his mouth and he
swallowed it quickly as it filled it up, Matt pulling out of him immediately afterwards. Lance stood
up, the anger that had nearly taken control of him earlier having passed. They embraced, comforting
each other.

That night, Lance dreamed again. The wolves had gotten closer. He had gotten closer. He was

moving with the pack through the town. Through people's yards, on the street, around cars. They

were running in the dark like shadows, moving swiftly towards his house. Towards their house. They
were closing in on him. He was closing in on himself. He jumped over the fence that surrounded
their house and approached their bedroom window. Rising on his hind legs, he peered inside,
watching himself sleep, Matt at his side. He could see his body twitching as his nightmare continued.
He looked at the other members of his pack, crowding behind him, and they walked around the
house, to the front door. One wolf pushed it gently and it creaked open. They walked in. He walked
in. Their paws moved quietly over the floors as they made their way to the bedroom. He moved with
them, and they entered. They stood before the bed. Matt was still sleeping, oblivious. Lance was still
sleeping, oblivious. But he wasn't. He knew what was happening. He felt it. The wolves climbed over
the bed, over him, their noses poking at him. Yet still he did not wake up. They growled at him,
exposing their sharp teeth. They clawed at him, calling him. His body shook under the sheets. They
wanted him. They were beckoning for him. He was already there, with them. It was finished.

When he woke up, Lance saw Matt standing by the side of the bed, a terrified expression on his

face. He looked at him in concern.

"What happened?" he asked.
"You tell me."
"I don't remember."
Matt teared up. "You don't remember tearing our house apart in the middle of the night?" he

whimpered. "You don't remember tossing the furniture over, the plates, the cups, the flowers, you
don't remember making a fucking mess?"

Lance was speechless.
"What the hell is happening Lance?!" Matt sobbed. "It's too much for me now. I could handle

the wolf stuff and everything but this, this is too much."

Lance jumped out of the bed and walked into the living room. The scene was terrifying, as if a

great struggle had taken place there. The entire room was nearly destroyed, its contents scattered
randomly on the floor. The shelves were torn down, books and films strewn around them. The vases
were broken, the flowers crushed underneath in a small pool of water. Furniture was turned over, the
sofa ripped into shreds, the table broken, the chairs upside down. Wall paintings had been tossed
aside, their frames cracked, some broken into pieces. Mirror shards littered the floor.

"I tried to stop you but you just wouldn't wake up." Matt came up behind him. "And then you

just went back to bed as if nothing ever happened."

"Why... why didn't you call someone?" Lance muttered, though he wasn't sure who Matt

could've called anyway.

"Who could I call? The police? I don't want you arrested." Matt answered. "But this can't go on,

Lance. It just can't."

"Matt," Lance began, and he turned around to face his lover. "It's started. I can feel it." He

swallowed hard as Matt looked at him in despair. "They were here last night, the wolves. I saw
them."

"No..." Matt said weakly. "No, this was all your doing. I watched you do it, Lance."
"I know." Lance said. "I think this is a sign that my transformation has begun. I think this was

the... the beast." he sighed. "Taking over."

The tears flowed freely from Matt's eyes now. "You're talking nonsense again, Lance... what am

I supposed to do with you?" He collapsed onto Lance's chest and sobbed. Lance embraced him
closely.

They stayed home that day, neither one of them in any state to work. Lance called in sick and

they spent the day cleaning up the mess and putting everything back together as much as possible,
both knowing full-well that this wasn't over yet. At night, as they went to sleep, Lance had the most
distinct feeling that something big would happen that night. It was a full moon, as you'd expect it to
be. And he felt himself longing to be out there, in the cool night, the breeze against his face,
wandering in the woods. He knew this was the moment. Everything Professor Lambert had told him
had become his truth, and he was convinced that he was a werewolf. He looked at Matt in concern,

not knowing what will happen to him, the great love of his life. He worried he might hurt him once
his transformation was complete. He couldn't know what would happen. But he dared not say a
word to him. Instead, he wrapped around Matt as they fell asleep, together.

When Lance awoke in the middle of the night, it wasn't because of a nightmare. In fact, his mind

was as clear as it had ever been. He knew exactly what he had to do. He knew where he had to go.
He could smell the path in front of him and he could see it in the dark. He got out of the bed. His
body felt odd, yes, but at the same time it felt... right. He did not feel any pain. He felt fine. Just -
different. He looked at his arms. They were covered in fur. Wolf fur. Yes, it had began. The moon
was out there, and his transformation had begun in earnest. He ran his fingers on his teeth. They felt
sharper; different. His eyes drifted to Matt, still soundly asleep, but Lance knew he must go. He
slipped out through the bedroom door, not bothering to put any shoes or other clothes on other than
the boxers he was in. He opened the front door of their house quietly and stepped into the black
night, the fresh cool breeze blowing through his wolf fur. He dropped to all fours - it was more
comfortable, and he noticed his feet and hands had been replaced by sturdy, furry, animal paws. He
didn't even notice it when it happened. His hind legs propelled him forward quickly, and he ran as he
had never ran before, outside of town, and into freedom, into the woods, the forest. His keen sense
of smell picked up on many new scents, yet they were all familiar. He knew them, and it felt good to
be out in the wild, where he belonged. He ran and ran and ran some more, his nose guiding him
along the path, a predetermined path, surely, one that he had seen before, in his dreams. He knew
exactly where he was going, and his body, his wolf body, now no longer human at all, guided him
there swiftly and expertly, as if he had been a wolf all his life. He arrived, finally, at the glade, well-lit
by the full moon. And there they stood: the pack. His pack. They had been waiting for him.

There were nine of them, and they faced him in silence, their eyes all fixated on him. Then, they

circled him slowly, approaching, sniffing at him, rubbing their heads against him, as if to welcome
him. Suddenly, they stepped back, and Lance watched, entranced, as they transformed in front of
him. Their bodies changed from wolf to human, rising up tall, the fur receding gradually, their beastly
features disappearing, replaced by those of humans. Five men and four women they were, and they
stood before him, all naked, looking at him, smiling. Warmly. Reassuringly. One stepped forward.
The leader.

"Take your human form, Lance." Lance wasn't sure how. "Envision it in your mind." The man

said again. "See it happen, and it will." Lance concentrated. In his mind's eye, he saw himself
transform, from wolf to man. And gradually, he felt it become a reality. With great difficulty, he
convinced his mind - his brain - to order his body into action. The fur gradually disappeared off his
limbs, his teeth shrunk down and straightened out, and his body rose up, till he stood on two feet.
Two bare, human feet, his body naked, lit in the moonlight. He shivered in the cold, his fur now
gone.

"Welcome, Lance." The man reached out and shook his hand, and the others followed suite, all

greeting him warmly. "We are your pack. We've been waiting for you."

"How did you know I would come?" Lance asked, though he knew the answer before it came.
"We knew the same way that you knew you would come. We have all been in your position as

well, Lance. We all know what it's like. I am Aaron." He introduced himself.

"You... we... we live here?"
"Yes, these woods are our home. Yours now, as well."
"But Matt... my life..." Lance mumbled, very much confused. As much as things felt real to him

when he was in wolf form - and he could not deny just how natural it all felt - now that he was back
in human form he felt utterly bewildered; rattled.

"Yes, I know." Aaron said. "It's not easy to leave your old life behind, but I'm afraid you must."

Aaron eyed Lance briefly, but before Lance could respond he spoke again. "Lance, let's not talk any
further tonight. You've had quite the experience, I know. Follow us, our residence is not far from
here."

"But, I don't know if I can turn back again..." Lance said.

"We'll walk as humans."
He followed as they walked, their bare feet stepping on the forest floor, the moist dirt sticking

to them, and leaves cracking underneath them. He stepped over fallen branches, over rocks, over
flowers. His body shivered in the coolness of the night, goosebumps rising on his skin. For fifteen
minutes they walked, until they arrived at the entrance to a cave. A dim fire burnt at the entrance, and
they walked in. Lance looked around as they sat around the fire, one woman tossing more wood
onto it. The cave was furnished with many household items - human items. They seemed to be living
well. Closets full of books stood against the walls of the cave. Carpets lined the floor. A small gas
stove, surrounded by pans, pots and various cutlery, stood in one corner. Deeper into the cave he
could make out the shapes of several beds. Quite large, the cave could easily fit all nine of them. Or
ten, now that Lance had joined.

"I don't understand." he said. "You live like humans. You sleep on beds. You cook on pans. Why

not just live in human society? Why do we need to hide away here in these woods?"

Aaron sighed and briefly looked at his friends, none of whom had yet to speak a word since they

arrived. "I'm afraid we can't go back. You can't go back either. Our DNA is... infected, with this, this
disease. You know, as you were not able to control your transformation once it began."

"But you are able to control it, right?" Lance looked at them pleading for a positive answer. "I

saw you do it. I know you can control it. Why not just go back and never transform again?"

"The only reason we can transform at will is that we have chosen to embrace our lives as

werewolves, I'm afraid." Aaron answered. "The more we live as wolves, the more we can control the
beast inside us." He looked at Lance. "I'm sure something happened to you as well. I'm sure the
beast inside you got loose and you were not able to control it."

Lance lowered his head. He thought back to the carnage he had inflicted on his home during the

previous night. Aaron sensed it, but did not press the matter. Instead, he continued. "I'm afraid that
you can never know what the beast will do. It could do something trivial that doesn't hurt anyone,
like knock over a garbage bin. Or it could do something terrible. It could attack, injure, maim
someone. It could kill." He paused, and sighed again. "The less time you spend in wolf form the less
you are able to control the beast. And the more time you spend as a wolf, the more in tune you
become with it, and the more in control you are of it. That's why we could never go back to living as
humans. If we did, it could have disastrous consequences for everyone around us as our control
slips." He looked at Lance, his glum face partly lit by the dancing fire, and shook his head sadly. "I'm
sorry, Lance. I wish I had better news for you."

"But... Matt... I had a whole life. I can't just leave it behind."
"We all had to give up something because of this. We all understand, we all know how it feels."

Lance felt hands on his back, comforting him. "At least we have each other. We are together in this, a
family. A pack. We live together, we hunt together. You are one of us now and you're welcome here.
This is your home now."

Lance didn't answer. He almost couldn't believe it wasn't all a dream. But he knew it wasn't.

Aaron motioned for them to get up.

"We'll sleep now, Lance. We can talk more in the morning. You really need to rest." He led him

to a bed in the depths of the cave and Lance collapsed down on it. He looked up at Aaron.

"Do you have any clothes for me?" he asked.
"No, but you don't need them. You'll have a blanket here at your bed, but eventually you'll learn

to sleep as a wolf, like us." Aaron smiled at him. "Good night." He turned and walked, and Lance
watched him, startling somewhat as Aaron transformed into wolf form. The wolf turned his head
back briefly, eying him, then jogged forwards. Lance laid his head down on his pillow and fell asleep.
It was the first night of his life as a werewolf.

The weeks passed quickly. Lance honed his skills as a wolf, learning all the tricks from his pack

members. Generally, the life was good, and Lance felt comfortable in it, as if it was a part of him for
a long time. It did not take him long to adjust to the new life, though he still had trouble shifting at
will. They assured him that it would take time for him to be able to do it consistently, and that he'd

need to spend more time as a wolf. Lance couldn't help but think about Matt, and what he had left
behind. He wondered how he was doing, how he felt when he got up that morning and Lance had
vanished, and what he must have thought. Did he cry? Did he call the police? His family? Lance's
parents? The sense of guilt and sadness was nearly overwhelming at times, but Lance knew it was for
the best - he could not go back. Surely? If he did there'd be no telling what would happen. Yet Matt
was his one great love. It tore him apart, gnawed at his heart. He wished he could see him again, if
only to say a proper goodbye.

Then, one night, as they were out, Lance picked up a familiar smell. He recognized it

immediately. It was Matt. He was far, several miles away, but there was no mistaking it. His pack
sensed it, too, and they looked at him questioningly as he stood up on a rock, his nose in the air,
trying to sense the direction it was coming from. Could he have come looking for him? Why would
he? And how would he know where to find him? He turned his head to the rest, and Aaron nodded in
approval. They had to investigate.

They made their way quickly, silently moving between trees and bushes, climbing over rocks

and fallen stumps, coming closer and closer. And then, Lance saw him. Matt sat there, leaning
against a tree, flashlight in his hand, backpack next to him. Professor Lambert was there too. It made
sense, Lance thought; they'd gone together in search of him. He darted forwards quickly, tail
between his legs, his pack following in his footsteps. He watched as Matt lifted up his head in
trepidation, responding to the sound of their movements, and as he scrambled to his feet hurriedly,
Lambert shouting something unintelligible at him. Matt pulled out a small gun and pointed it at
Lance, his hands shaking. He would probably not be able to even hit him if he pulled the trigger.

More and more wolves showed up from the darkness of the forest. Matt and Lambert looked

around them in fear as the wolves closed in, encircling them. In front of them stood Lance, calm,
quiet, peaceful. In fact, none of the wolves were threatening them at all. They seemed more
inquisitive, as if wondering what these trespassers were doing in their neck of the woods. Lance
couldn't bear it any longer. How he had missed Matt. He had to. He put all his willpower into it and
began to transform in front of their very eyes. Gradually he rose up from the ground, his front legs
transforming into arms, paws into hands. He stood before them, naked, as a human. Just as Matt
remembered him. Quickly, the other wolves followed suite, their own transformations much quicker
and easier than that of Lance - befitting of experienced werewolves. Matt stood still, staring at Lance
in a mix of shock and dread, unable to utter a word.

"Matt." Lance said. No answer. Lance took a step towards him, but Matt was still frozen in his

place. He wrapped him arms around him, pulling him closely to him. Feeling Matt's warm breath on
his neck, he closed his eyes and they embraced, and he heard Matt begin to sob quietly. They held
each other for a minute; it had been a long time.

"Matt." Lance said again, and he pulled back a little, looking into Matt's teary eyes. He smiled

warmly at him.

"Lance..." Matt finally spoke softly. He looked around him at the circle of naked people

watching them. Professor Lambert at his side was equally stunned, trying to grasp what was
transpiring in front of them. "Lance... I missed you." Matt said. "What happened to you?"

"Exactly what I was afraid of." Lance answered. "I missed you more than you could ever know.

I love you Matt. I wish I could go back, but I can't."

"Why not? Just come back with me. You don't have to live out here."
Aaron and the rest of the pack remained quiet, watching, as if testing Lance for his reaction.

Lance took a deep breath, and sighed. "I can't. I wish I could."

"But why?!" Matt cried. "Why? Tell me!"
"If I did I wouldn't be able to control the wolf..." Lance began, and he felt himself almost tearing

up as well as he looked into Matt's eyes. "I have to stay out here where I'm no danger to anyone."

Matt didn't understand. Before he could speak, Aaron stepped up. "He's right, Matt." he said.

"I'm afraid all of us werewolves could never go back to human society. It's simply too dangerous. We
must spend the majority of our time as wolves so that we can tame our own animalistic nature. If we

don't, it could take over us and we wouldn't be able to control it. It's best for everyone if we stay
here." He eyed him and the professor, then added: "It would also be best if no one knew we were
here. We keep to ourselves, and we'd like to not attract any unnecessary attention. I'm sure you can
understand." The professor nodded slowly, but Matt simply turned back to Lance.

"Lance, come back, please. I need you."
"I can't!" Lance said again. "I wish I could, Matt." He kissed him briefly, their cold lips pressing

together.

"Why can't you just control the transformation? You can do it now." Matt insisted.
"If I go back to live as a human I will lose the control."
"Then stay as a wolf, and just transform on occasion... sometimes... to spend time with me."
Lance paused briefly, as if considering the suggestion. "But I could never live as a wolf in

human society... it's just... it can't be."

"Why not?!" Matt yelled angrily. "Stay as a wolf as much as you want, and just transform into a

human sometimes. You don't have to do it all the time."

"But what will I do? I have a family here, Matt!"
"I'm your family!" Matt shouted in anguish, the tears streaming down his cheeks. Lance didn't

answer, and they stood for a few minutes in silence, the sound of Matt's quiet sobbing accompanied
only by the occasional call of an owl and the leaves, rustling gently in the wind. Eventually, Aaron
stepped forward once again.

"Lance, you must make a choice." he said grimly. "You could go back to human civilization if

you wanted, but you would risk losing control over your transformation, and over the beast. Or you
can stay here, with us."

Lance glanced at him, then at Lambert. "Have there been cases where people went back and

didn't lose the control?" he asked. The professor shook his head - he didn't know.

"There have been cases where people went back, yes." Aaron said, to Lance's surprise. "Some

of them were able to control the beast inside of them, transforming only on rare occasions, and still
maintaining control over themselves. They live mostly normal lives within human society now."
Lance looked at Matt as if sensing an opportunity. "But," Aaron continued, "there have been cases
where people went back and lost that control." The somber look in his eyes almost pierced straight
through Lance. "And these cases have resulted in some great tragedies. I'm afraid there's no way to
know what will happen, Lance. You may go back and risk it, if you wish."

Lance, his mind racing with doubts, looked again at Matt's pleading face. He wanted Lance

back. He wanted to touch him, to caress him, to hug him, to kiss him. To love him. He wanted to
share his life with him.

"Come back, Lance." he said softly. "Come back with me."
Lance remained silent, and he lowered his head as he struggled to make the decision. He closed

his eyes. He heard the leaves quietly rustle around him, and felt the wind caressing his naked body,
causing it to shiver slightly at its cold touch. Matt stood in front of him: his one, great love. And
surrounding him, his pack stood motionless, awaiting his decision. He heard Aaron's voice once
more.

"You must choose, Lance. What will it be?"
Lance took a deep breath and opened his eyes.
He spoke.

###

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