The new need is so hard to control that you can't put the breaks on your deviant behaviors. Difficult still when your slumbering shewolf's own body starts to brush and grind as urgently as yours, as if her bothered whines and heated panting begs you to relent and give into your lusty cravings and renew each other's carnal union. The alarm bells continue to sound in the back of your mind, though. Perhaps she is roused by another wet and primal dream kindled by your greedy touch and grind, but how much of her conscious will remain wolf when she wakes? Will she retain her beastly persona and embrace her domineering stud, or will the woman she was before everything last night become present? Is it wrong to take advantage of your partner while she is asleep?
Perhaps none of this matters to you, seeing you've pushed the envelope this far already. Allowing to make such lewd and drastic changes to this random woman's life through the website, potentially altering her mind and personality to meet your fascinations, rutting with a creature that had taken over this stranger. You've chosen such a deviant path. You're having fun with your little supernatural scenario. This all could still be one lengthy dream where consequence doesn't matter. Maybe she is into fucking as a beast.
You don't care by this point. You can't really care to think about what you are doing; how this might affect your partner, your mate. There is nothing but this damning need right now, that pulsing from your thicken red lupine bone aching to bury back inside your bitch before you erupt again. She smells ready. She writhes and bucks with you wanting that fleshy spear. How much longer can you wait?
Gnashing your fangs spilling anxious growls, you pull your slumbering shewolf ever closer rubbing hairy chest and supple breasts between each other, panting heavily as such carnal stimulation builds upon your arousal and your thrusting wolfhood, a small yelp escaping both your maws once the tip of your rod pushes past the shewolf's sweltering swollen folds.
You can't fight this anymore. Even your mate runs her hands over your shoulders clutching tight, feeling her pelvis bump eagerly into you hungry to feel that knot pop through. Surely she would have voiced some sort of protest by now; she can't be this ignorant to realize what is happening even being asleep. You feel you have permission to go further and claim your bitch fully, nuzzling and licking her face and neck frantically while you roll your shewolf onto her back climbing on top and lying above.
You feel...no; it's your right. You two are already mated. Your bond is already cemented. You both declared each other yours last night with your many romps. What harm is there truly to keep breeding? She looks beautiful...can be more beautiful as a wolf again. You can feel each other's bodies starting to writhe and burn, the supernatural sensation that ignited your beastly changes surfacing. Mating rouses your wolf. Mating changes you. Mating will renew your real feral forms.
Gone this far. Why stop now. Need to mate. Need to breed. Grow your pack.
Your body trembles and contorts while you hump, riding through the swell of aches and pains stretching and snapping at your bones, pull at your hide and expanding your muscles. A wolfish grin curls at your tightening lips as you feel your face crack and protrude, pushing out the start of your lupine muzzle; feeling your pointed ears pulling and widening back to their feral shapes. Grasping fingers curled over your mate's shoulders slowly lose dexterity shortening into stubby digits; palms elongating, resembling proper forepaws. Your feetpaws pull and lengthen at the arches as your calves shorten; your legs molding into beastly legs.
Yes. Your changing back into a wolf. More wolf than you felt last night. A real feral animal. It's hard to imagine why you would ever prefer your old human husk, a furry lupine body so much natural and invigorating. You don't mind how much of your humanity is leaving you; instinct and primal urges the only urgency you have now. To mate. To hunt. To be a wolf.
Only such primal zeal only heightens as you watch your mate underneath begin to show her own transition; her fuzzy hide thickening and darkening all over her frail nudity, her animal teats forming more prominently over her abdomen and stomach, her limp hands anxiously flailing to hug your furry sides cracking and stretching into lupine forepaws. Panting maws hover between snouts, delightfully transfixed at how your bitch's face pops and crunches slowly starting to push out into a muzzle like yours.
All the while feeling your mate curl up and cling to your animal body, whimpering climbing; her burning need begging you to keep going and fill her up. At least you believe this is what she wants; this is what she desires. The fact she rocks and bumps into your wolfhood with eager anticipation for the tie only furthers that reality, doesn't it?
Such hesitation is fleeting so deep into your act, relishing your mate's own trembling embrace as you pick up your pace pumping frantically to push your swollen knot inside. Being a wolf; watching and feeling your mate become a wolf again. This is how it should be. This is right. This is rapture.
Your thrusts grow fierce, growling anxiously as you are determined to plunge your spear fully, each pound closer to slip through your bitch's tight folds. While your eyes shut and head tilts high focusing solely on tying, you are unaware of your shewolf's drowsy eyes finally starting to part. For a moment there is little change to her already hazy gaze or posture, your mate staring up to your muzzle with glossy fascination. Entranced; her limp grip slowly starts to tighten around your feral body, feeling her lower half aiding your heavy thrusts just a bit more, suggestion that your dominant assumptions were always correct; that your bitch welcomes your lusty antics.
However; even though a smile starts to stretch over her growing muzzle, her eyes soon start to widen and dart in confusion. Her yelps of ecstasy suddenly shift to whines of panic. Your humping focus is broken as you start to feel your mate wrestling underneath you, growls and yelps spilling from her animal maw. You snap your attention back down to your shewolf personally bewildered in her hesitation. She flails her furry arms and forepaws over your shoulders and chest as if trying to pry you off, though her behavior flounders eventually panting in exhaustion as she lies back submissively, her paws tucked close to her chest.
Seeing your mate in such a shocked and timid state manages to rekindle some sign of humanity within, or at least remind you of the concept of morality. She doesn't seem as eager to continue mating as you thought, staring up at you with weary, almost teary eyes frightened in the position you have her pinned upon.
Does this mean the shewolf's human personality has indeed resurfaced? Is she now aware of her transformed plight? Or is she simply having second thoughts of copulating again so soon...or disturbed that you would take advantage of her while she was asleep?
You look upon your somber shewolf, fevered thoughts struggling with how to respond. Do you back off and give your mate some space, give her the chance to come to terms with her fate as a wolf? Or do you ignore such consideration and remind your bitch who is her alpha now. And what her alpha wants, he takes.