The Hunger

His eyes may be different, but the hunger is the same.  He watches from a distance.  It's the other him that she watches for.  This, this flimsy handsome body is harmless.  As harmless as hers.

She made her way through the desolate woods.  It was time to take her basket to Grandma's.  She was warned.  Her step father warned her with his own wolfish leer to avoid strangers.  Stay pure.  Fear the wolf.  She did.  She feared him every night.  These woods, they were barren.  Creepy.  But the wolf she feared the most wasn't in them.  The wolf in the woods was a great shaggy beast with powerful fast claws and sharp flesh-tearing teeth.  He snarled and howled.  She would know him by the hunger in his gaze.  She laughed to herself.  No, she knew real predators.  This mythic beast instilled no fear in her.

He skulked behind the trees, watching.  Waiting.  She slowed.  With a furtive glance, she removed her cloak with a flourish and spread it out on the ground.  Grandma wouldn't miss just one currant roll.  She sat on her cloak for a nibble.

He wore simple clothes.  Modern.  Unobtrusive.  It was part of the magic.  Whenever he turned, he kept his clothing with him.  He was just a young man.  His eyes maybe different, but the hunger was the same.  Not the same.  As fierce, but not the same.

She pulled out a second bun.  She saw him watching, this handsome young man.  He must be hungry.  Starving, really.  She held out the roll and he crept close, forgetting his form.  She thought him odd.  Isolated. Handsome.  He took the food from her hand with a smile.  She's done this before.

She shook her head.  Handsome.  Beautiful.  Hunger.  she kissed him.  He tried to walk away, but there was no way now.  Not when she bared her her ripe ivory breasts with nipples like juicy cherries.  Not when he could sink his teeth into her plump ass.  She was warned.  But it was her that howled as he took her on the red cloak.  Her touch on his human skin.  Her wet heat around him.  A tangle of frail human flesh.  a mess of hunger and need.  But only she was warned.

The knife was quick.  A flash of silver.  His warm blood on her hands.  Shock and pain twisted his face.  At least she'd let him cum, she thought.  She pushed him off her to watch him change.  His nose elongated into a grey muzzle.  His skin covered with thick, grey-black fur.  His beautifully powerful limbs curled into a silent leap.  She wiped the blade on the ground and fixed her clothes.  She gathered Grandma's basket.

She shook off a brief sting of sadness.  No, she wasn't afraid.  She knew real predators