III

"Well, not wild Wild with a capital W. Transformation wild. Don't you remember the alleyway? The fight against the weredog?" Yvonne clarified.

"The fight..." The memories flooded back, crashing into Turner's consciousness like an unyielding force. The chilling touch of cobblestones, the monstrous canine, hurling the coffee, the onslaught of the attack.

And then, the kiss.

Turner groaned, his hands instinctively grasping his head as the recollection struck him with relentless force, like a cement block.

"The kiss... and then darkness. Nothingness until the floor and the toy monkey," he muttered, his voice laced with disbelief.

"You turned into a wolf girl!" he exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Yvonne.

"Piece of cake," she casually responded before transforming before his very eyes. In the span of a single blink, wolf ears emerged from her fiery tresses, her voluptuous form now covered in copper-colored fur. Unabashedly nude, her allure captivated Turner's gaze as she playfully rolled onto her side, revealing a fluffy tail protruding from her perfectly rounded derriere.

"With practice, you'll be able to do it too," she stated matter-of-factly.

Another blink, and she returned to her human form, smooth skin replacing the bestial features. Turner swayed involuntarily, feeling the tug of her transformation, as if her actions beckoned him to follow suit.

Yvonne rolled onto her back once again, parting her legs enticingly.

"Now, Alpha, come here," she beckoned, the word resonating within him. While a distant part of his mind recognized the need for panic, the implications of being an Alpha, and the existence of weredogs, another part acknowledged an inexplicable truth—a sense of correctness. The world, previously askew, now aligned itself as it should be. With each step he took, the creaking floor and protesting bed beneath his weight, he wondered how he had seemingly gained mass when he thought he had shed excess fat.

"Good boy," Yvonne whispered as Turner tenderly caressed her feet, both of them stained with tiny droplets of blood—his and hers. Pressing his lips to the sole of her foot, he tasted the metallic tang, realization dawning upon him.

That creature in the alleyway was a weredog... so was she a werewolf? He kissed his way up Yvonne's leg, past her knee, and toward her inner thigh. Initially, she giggled, but her amusement transformed into blissful sighs as he ventured higher, guided by a haunting familiarity that echoed through the curves of her body, the taste of her skin, and her intoxicating scent.

He traced a path, moving upward past her belly button and descending, drawing nearer, his touch grazing against her skin as she exhaled with satisfaction.

"Please," she pleaded, reaching down to tug at his hair.

With a long, deliberate lick, he sent shivers coursing through her body, her sigh abruptly silenced as his tongue swirled. Turner firmly grasped her petite buttocks, adjusting her hips and varying the pace, alternating between rapid and languid movements, evoking gasps from Yvonne.

Her taste was exquisite, and the symphony of her pleasured sounds drove him to the brink of madness.

Soon, a rhythm took shape, her moans and sighs replaced by short breaths. She teetered on the precipice of release, her legs beginning to twitch, Yvonne on the verge of surrendering to ecstasy.

She cried out, her hand gripping his hair while the other sought to stifle her moans. Undeterred, he continued his fervent ministrations, driving her closer to the edge. But then, she placed both hands atop his head, wriggling away.

"No, no, it's too sensitive," she gasped.

"It doesn't matter," he growled.

Taking hold of her wrists, he smoothly ascended her body, entering her with a primal force. Instinctively, she arched her hips backward as he pressed her wrists onto the bed.

"Oh, goddess," Yvonne moaned, her flushed cheeks adorned with a smattering of freckles he hadn't noticed before. Amidst the symphony of sounds, her vibrant green eyes, and the molten heat engulfing them, the overwhelming urge to bite, dominate, and possess her completely consumed him.

Yvonne still trembled from the aftershocks as he thrust into her relentlessly. Soon, her gasps, pleas, and moans resounded beneath him. At some point, he lifted her knees, relinquishing his grip on her wrists to firmly grasp the nape of her neck. She curled beneath him, completely at his mercy.

Time faded into a hazy blur. Normally, his world would narrow, his sole focus fixated on the woman in his bed. However, inexplicably, Turner felt his senses expand. He could discern the rustling of small creatures in the nearby forest, the distant melodies of chirping birds, and the gentle buzz of bees. A palpable warmth enveloped him like an invisible cocoon, ebbing and flowing like the tides. A fleeting cold spot grazed past his feet, and Yvonne's eyes fluttered open beneath him.

"Is that magic?" she asked, her voice tinged with astonishment.

The connection between their bodies tugged at her, drawing her into its embrace. Yvonne attempted to speak again, but her ability to form coherent words dissolved, leaving nothing but plaintive moans. Turner, too, could sense the encompassing warmth, distinct from himself yet intermingling with his being. It flowed through his muscles, akin to the indulgent caress of a hot bath. Every movement he made, it mirrored.

As Turner quickened his pace, familiar tingles surged through his lower back. In his periphery, he caught sight of the toy monkey nodding and rocking feverishly, golden sparks dancing across its form.

"It's magic," he thought, surrendering himself to the pure rush of Yvonne beneath him, the cascade of heat coursing through his body, and Yvonne trembling in response.

Conventional decorum dictated that one shouldn't immediately succumb to slumber, but Turner couldn't resist, and neither could Yvonne. He observed her eyes fluttering closed, and his own followed suit. Fleetingly, he witnessed various objects in the room levitating, buoyed by golden sparks, before sleep overcame him.

The last sounds that reached his ears were the thuds of those objects meeting the wooden floor and Yvonne's contented sigh reverberating in his ear.