Damon couldn't believe his luck. No more servants, no more castles, no more parents. No more royal responsibilities. No more human responsibilities of any kind. Just a wolf in the woods with a practical body and impeccable senses. He'll go where he wants and do what his body tells him. The birds and rodents and even mighty stags would live in fear of him, because they would be his dinner. His jaws and teeth and claws had real power, not the kind of power his stuffy family always told him he had.
'Yeah, I'll 'go' where I want alright,' thought Damon as he kicked up a leg and left his liquid signature on the trunk of a big old tree in the middle of nowhere. Then he wandered on, aiming his muzzle around, taking inventory of the vast library of scents his new nose was giving him. Grass, dirt, fur from dozens of different species... even scent markings from other wolves. He wondered if he'd ever meet any of them.
-- Sniff, sniff -- 'Is that the smell of water nearby? I could use a bit.'
Damon ambled his way over to a nearby stream, lowered his muzzle, and let his long tongue down into the water and back up again. Lapping it up, not worrying about germs or parasites, just feeling the cool perfection hitch a ride on his tongue and satiate his thirst... it was liberating. He got a mental image of his clone sipping wine out of a ceremonial chalice at an official function somewhere, with jealous nobles glaring awkwardly, totally unaware that their sacred duplicate was not really Prince Damon.
'Of course, I'm not really Prince Damon either, not anymore,' he thought to himself, wagging his tail. He wasn't even a commoner, just Damon the wolf, wild and free. He brought his mouth back up from the water and stared across it, gazing lazily at the trees.
'Not only am I not Prince Damon,' he realized, 'I'm not even really Damon.' After all, his human name had no meaning out here. His real identification here in the wilderness was his scent. It was still clinging to his sheath; he curled around and took a more whiffs back there, just to get a little more acquainted with how he was going to be known from now on. In the midst of his self-examination, he noticed just how far he could curl himself around... it was even far enough to...
He looked around out of habit to make sure no one was watching, then realized it didn't matter. He let his long tongue out for an experimental lick across his crotch. How many humans would ever be able to do this? Before long, his veiny bony penis was sticking out getting an enthusiastic tongue-bath from its owner. Damon knew it was a bit gross, but he was relishing the pleasant feelings boiling up from down there. It felt like a dog was licking his manhood, which was basically true, and he was the dog (the wolf!). Servants were probably decorating the clone prince in delicate robes right now, unaware that the real (former) prince was out here licking his own dick in the middle of the woods. And he could do this anytime he wants to from now on.
The novice wolf was distracted out of his newfound self-pleasure by the sound of a large pack of wolves howling in the distance. He stared at the source of the sound and angled his ears around to get the full clarity. They were probably miles away, but Damon could hear them plain as day.
'Should I go and join them?' thought Damon. Maybe joining a pack would make it easier to get food and make friends while he was still getting used to his new body. On the other hand, he'd only had his wild freedom for a little while so far, and he was enjoying be out and about on his own. What should he do?