Cambrian’s Emporium of Everything (Multiple Settings)

Full Moon Park (Original Supernatural)

Commission (Part 1-3)

Themes: Monster Sex, Dom/Sub, Rough Sex

Summary: A pair of Park Rangers head over to the restricted side of the woods so that the veteran can introduce her newbie to Full Moon Park's long-kept secret.

-x-X-x-

Part 1:

-x-X-x-

“We’re here!”
 
As the jeep rolls to a stop, two women hop out onto the dirt road it’s been trundling down. At first glance, one would notice that they were both Park Rangers. They had the stereotypical Park Ranger uniforms after all. At second glance, however, one would be surprised at just how different they seemed from one another.
 
On the one side you had Montana, the more veteran of the pair. Ironically from Texas, Montana definitely has an ‘alternative’ look to her. Raven-black hair, piercing blue eyes, a pair of large (pierced) breasts, and more than a handful of wolf-themed tattoos scattered across her body. Some visible, some not.
 
On the other side, you had Staci. She’s your stereotypical tomboy sorority sister, the kind of coed who was big into sports and outdoorsy stuff, but still blonde with pigtails (her one feminine indulgence), a pair of perky tits, and her biggest asset, her toned athletic ass that she’d literally had someone bounce a quarter off of once… again, sorority sister. To top it all off, she had a pair of long, exquisite legs that just didn’t quit.
 
However, she was also a virgin who’d never even kissed a man before, having avoided THOSE kinds of parties while she was in college simply by virtue of having too many early morning training sessions to be bothered with staying up late, partying hard, OR even so much as getting drunk.
 
And really, at the end of the day that was what brought everything back around for the two women. They might look different superficially, but they couldn’t be closer in a lot of the deeper, under the surface ways. They both loved the outdoors. They both loved nature. And they were both go-getters in a way that a lot of their respective generations just… weren’t these days.
 
The world might be going to hell in a hand basket all around them, but for ladies like Montana and Staci, that was no excuse to just lie down and die. They were out here in these woods to make sure the beauty of nature and the wildlife that populated it weren’t tainted any faster by the excesses of human civilization. Compared to that, what were a few superficial differences between them, right?
 
Or at least, that was how Staci saw it anyways. Despite what guys liked to assume about the perky blonde with her cutesy pigtails, she wasn’t a dunce or an idiot. No, she actually had a lot going on between those ears of hers. That said…
 
“Where exactly is ‘here’? Because if I remember correctly, you said this part of the Park was off-limits for both guests and newbie rangers.”
 
Montana snickers at that and nods, even as she leads Staci through the underbrush. They quickly come out the other side into a wide clearing… with a rather large cave mouth protruding from a hill on the far side of it.
 
“That’s right. But you’ve been here for a month now, Staci. You’re not a newbie anymore. And we both felt it was about time that you learned the truth.”
 
Well, that first part was nice to hear, but that second part was downright ominous.
 
“We? Who’s we?”
 
Montana doesn’t get a chance to answer, as before she can, a sudden growl that shakes Staci’s very bones echoes out from the cave. No, not a cave Staci quickly realizes. She might be only one month into this job, but she’s spent her whole life outdoors. Rapidly, the blonde puts everything together, from the tracks she’s just now noticing to the smells in the air. And she realizes, that’s not a cave at all… or at least, not just a cave.
 
It's a den.
 
“Montana…”
 
“Don’t try and run, Staci. And if you want to keep your uniform intact, you should start removing them now. Then again, feel free to let him rip it off of you. I’ll reimburse it just this once if he does… my treat~”
 
Looking over at the veteran Park Ranger, Staci is gobsmacked to see Montana has already started following her own advice and stripping right there on the spot. She leaves her boots and socks on, but everything else comes off. First her jacket, then her shirt, and then her shorts, only to reveal she hadn’t been wearing panties or a bra.
 
Staci, however, is more caught on something she sees as soon as Montana takes off her collared Park Ranger’s jacket. Namely… there was another tattoo hidden just under her collar. A tattoo that encircles Montana’s neck. A tattoo of… of a dog collar, of all things.
 
The ground suddenly shakes, and Staci freezes up as her eyes dart back to the entrance of the den. Coming from the shadows is the biggest wolf that she’s ever seen. No… wait. Not a wolf. Or at least, not JUST a wolf. As the creature leaves his den, he lifts himself up onto his hind legs, coming to his full height, and Staci finds herself face to face with a massive, hulking werewolf.
 
Probably around eight feet tall, a few hundred pounds of bulging muscle, dark brown fur all over… and intelligent yellow eyes staring down at her.
 
“Mm. Fresh Meat.”
 
“Staci, this is the Beast, your new Master. Master… this is Staci. I’ve been telling you about her~”
 
Montana’s introductions break Staci out of her stupefaction, though not enough that she can get her legs to answer her pleas to turn and run. Standing there quaking in her boots, the pigtailed blonde whimpers.
 
“W-What?”
 
Giving her an indulgent, almost motherly smile, Montana runs her hands up and down her own body, moaning softly as she plays with her pierced nipples and squeezing her large breasts.
 
“This is the truth of these woods, Staci. Didn’t you ever wonder why every single Park Ranger here is a woman? There are six of us, and our profession is a male-dominated one. And yet, all six Park Rangers are female. It’s because of him. Our Alpha. The Beast.”
 
As Montana speaks, the Beast makes his way across the clearing to where Staci is standing at an almost leisurely pace. However, even if his pace is leisurely… his intentions are anything but. Slowly but surely, protruding from its sheath inch by inch, is the Werewolf Alpha’s massive, fat wolf-cock. As he comes to a stop in front of her, it just keeps growing and growing, until it’s fully erect, complete with a huge bulbous knot at its base.
 
“A thousand years ago, the witches of these woods made a pact with the Beast. A pact to enslave themselves to him in exchange for protection and to keep this area safe from harm. Admittedly, only one of their descendants survives to today… me. But the Beast still honors the pact. So long as we honor him in turn. The others are already aware of this. They welcome the Beast’s dominion over them. As you will too.”
 
Panting at this point, though whether out of fear or something else, Staci can’t say, she whimpers as she looks from Montana to the Beast and then back again.
 
“That’s… that’s crazy.”
 
Montana just shakes her head, smiling wickedly as she touches herself while staring adoringly at the hulking monster in their midst.
 
“Crazy? No, Staci. That’s life. The Beast is the undisputed Alpha of these lands. And so long as we give him our bodies, he is a benevolent overlord. He keeps this place safe and secure, and even helps us carry out our duties. He doesn’t hurt people; he doesn’t kill humans unless they earn his scorn. He’s a good Master. And you’ll learn to love submitting to him.”
 
Before Staci can answer that, the Beast lets out a sudden deep chuckle.
 
“This one might not have to learn a thing. I can smell your arousal, fresh meat. You want to become my bitch, don’t you?”
 
Staci jolts at being called out like that. It wasn’t her fault! S-So what if she was maybe a little… furry adjacent? Look, she’d jilled off to just as much normal vanilla porn as she had furry porn. It was just… well, the idea of an Alpha Wolf fucking his beta bitch silly HAD always appealed to her a little bit. It was the raw, rough, unbridled ferocity of it. It was nature in its purest form.
 
“I… I…”
 
“No matter. You don’t have to answer for me to know the truth. Like my other bitch said. If you wanted to keep the uniform, you should have removed it already.”
 
Before Staci can react, the Beast abruptly palms her skull with one massive paw-like hand and lifts her off the ground. She lets out a muffled scream as he does so, her feet kicking back and forth in the air ineffectually, but in the end there’s nothing to be done. His other claws come up and rake down her front and while she’s expecting pain… she feels nothing but the faintest pressure of his incredibly sharp claws against her skin, even as her uniform is rent from her body.
 
A gasp leaves her lips and Staci’s perky breasts quickly gain a pair of perky nipples as the Beast rips off her uniform, bra, and panties, all in one swoop. He opens her up like a Christmas Present, ripping the ‘packaging’ to shreds with a practiced motion but leaving the cute blonde sorority sister underneath entirely intact… if woefully naked as a result.
 
Then, he brings a digit up to her pussy, her sopping wet cunt giving way before his finger with ease as Staci whimpers in fear. But he’s retracted his claw so he can play with her, toying and teasing her cunt with a finger that’s easily as big as your average human dick. Of course, there’s no physical representation of her virginity to be lost to that huge digit. Staci is an active athlete and has been the outdoorsy type all her life. She tore her hymen ages ago.
 
And yet, the Beast still chuckles as he fingers her.
 
“Virgin. Good.”
 
From nearby, Montana perks up at that.
 
“Oh? I’d thought she seemed innocent, but I didn’t think a college type would still be pure. Good for you, Staci!”
 
Staci just whimpers. Part of her wants to rant and rage at Montana for thrusting her into this situation with no way out. But another part of her doesn’t want it to stop, as shameful as that is. She… wants this. More than she cares to admit. And if she gets upset or angry, they might not give it to her. Even if THAT seems vanishingly likely.
 
And so Staci doesn’t raise much of a protest, not even as the Beast sits down right there in the clearing and transitions his grip to her itty bitty waist, lowering her down so that she’s suddenly feeling the tapered end of his penis rubbing against her slippery wet folds. Staci gasps, her hands going to the massive werewolf’s chest and curling in his fur there as he grins at her wickedly.
 
Then, he’s inside of her. No further fanfare. No howl of triumph. Nothing. Just a soft pleased growl from the hulking monster as she’s sunk down his massive wolf cock a few inches. Staci squeaks and shudders, her athletic and toned body trembling from the sensation. She’s never had anything more than a few fingers in her cunt before. She’s used some toys, but only vibrating wands, never anything penetrative.
 
In fact, before his dick, the biggest thing Staci had inside of her was the Beast’s thick inhuman finger. Now though… now she’s getting the real deal. And right off the bat, the pigtailed blonde recognizes that she’ll never be able to go back to the way she was before. Not after this. But… is that necessarily a bad thing?
 
The Beast sinks her another couple inches down his cock, making Staci gasp and shudder even harder. She finds herself moaning, even as she clutches at his fur. For a moment, she even forgets that they’re not alone. She forgets that there’s someone else in the clearing with them. Until, of course, Montana makes her presence known again.
 
“That’s it hun. Give in. Surrender to the Master’s will. You love it, don’t you? His big fat cock… you absolutely love it~”
 
The veteran Park Ranger comes up behind Staci and wraps her arms around the quivering blonde, grabbing her by her perky tits and giving them a good hard squeeze. The combination of pleasure from Montana toying with Staci’s tits and the Beast’s cock pulsing inside of her hungry twat is enough to make the blonde cry out, her eyes half-rolling back in her head as she experiences her first orgasm upon the Werewolf Alpha’s cock.
 
The result of that climax is that she ends up slipping and sliding another few inches down his length, until the tapered tip of his massive wolf dick suddenly rests against her cervix, pressing into her womb itself. Staci’s eyes widen at the sensation of being oh so full, even as Montana hums in her ear.
 
“A good wolf slut always takes every last inch of her Master and Alpha’s cock. But… you’re still a newbie, Staci. Just a different kind of newbie now. Welcome to your new life, darling. Don’t worry… the others and I will walk you through it. We’ll be there every step of the way to make sure it all goes well~”
 
Staci whimpers, her hands clutching at the Beast’s chest fur for dear life by this point. Montana just giggles… and then drops down to her knees behind her. Staci’s eyes widen as the veteran Park Ranger (and veteran Wolf Slut too, she supposed) begins going to town on not just the part of the Beast’s cock that doesn’t currently fit into Staci, but also Staci’s asshole as well.
 
A guttural groan leaves the pigtailed blonde’s lips as she shudders atop the Werewolf Alpha’s cock. Meanwhile, the Beast seems content for a moment… but only a moment. After a beat, he reaches up and casually begins to molest her tits with one hand, while at the same time giving an order.
 
“Start moving, bitch. Or I’ll move you.”
 
The thought of the hulking werewolf fucking her from below with his no doubt considerable might fills her with both anticipation and trepidation… but the fear is a bit greater than the interest, so Staci does as she’s told. She begins to bounce upon the Beast’s cock… no, upon her Master’s cock.
 
Montana is right. There’s no escaping this. There’s no hope of running. As soon as she and the Beast laid eyes on each other for the first time, it was already over. She was his. So… she might as well enjoy it, right? Moaning up a storm, shuddering her way through orgasm after orgasm, Staci fucks herself on her new Master’s cock while Montana provides the services of an expert fluffer down below. The veteran Park Ranger does things with her tongue and mouth that Staci wouldn’t have thought possible.
 
But the main focus is on her Master’s dick… and being the best bitch she can be for him as she rides him all the way to completion. His knot doesn’t fit inside of her that first time, but his seed certainly fills her to the brim and then some.
 
And so Staci begins her new life, not just as a Park Ranger Trainee… but also as a Werewolf Alpha’s newest bitch.

-x-X-x-

Part 2:

-x-X-x-

“Right this way, ma’am!”
 
Cynthia Blackrock can’t help but huff as she’s led into the ‘restricted area’ of the park by a bubbly blonde in pigtails named Staci. At least the girl was respectful… but even still. Cynthia despised this.
 
Oh, she didn’t despise the nature, to be clear. As a Native American woman, Cynthia Blackrock had straight black hair, dark brown eyes, tanned skin almost starting to border on dusky, and a body that just wouldn’t quit. She also had a love for the outdoors, a connection to her Native American roots that admittedly hadn’t really started until after she’d gotten back from college.
 
… It had taken the eye-opening experience that was living amongst mostly white people for the first time in her life to make the Native American woman realize how good she’d had it growing up among her own kind. Not that she was racist, mind you. Rather, it was constantly being mistaken for an illegal immigrant from Mexico or South America that had quickly worn Cynthia’s tolerance for modern civilization down to a nub.
 
There was only so many times Cynthia could have total strangers come up to her and demand she ‘go back to where she came from’ before the Native American woman wanted to scream. In the end though, that would just feed into the stereotypes about her people being ‘savages’. So rather than continue to engage, Cynthia had gotten her degree and gotten the fuck out.
 
… Unfortunately, while things were better back with her people, they weren’t perfect. For one, the Native American men on offer weren’t much better than the white men back at college. She’d had a few romps, both at college and after college, and none of them had really… kept her attention. They were just all so self-centered. Not a single one cared about her for her, but rather were only interested in what she might offer them.
 
For the moment, Cynthia had sworn off men, while at the same time still holding out hope that she’d come across ‘that special someone’. She’d been considering getting a pet dog in the meantime, because admittedly it was becoming a little lonely at her old family home, what with her being the only living member left. That was also why she’d thrown herself into her work.
 
As one of the only ones among her people to go off to college and come back with a fancy degree and education from the colonizers, getting a job working in the tribe’s administration had been simple enough. However, it was also mind-numbingly boring and quite depressing, being stuck behind a desk. As such, when the site supervisor for one of the National Parks that technically fell under the tribe’s purview had to go on maternity leave, Cynthia had seen an opportunity to get out from behind the desk and embrace her long lost connection with nature.
 
As the temporary supervisor for the park, she had full authority over the Park Rangers, who all turned out to be women, much to Cynthia’s surprise. She’d thought that would be a good thing to be honest, because she didn’t really want to have to deal with any chauvinism while she was just trying to get back to nature for a little bit. However… very quickly, a point of contention and immense frustration had shown up.
 
Namely, the park apparently had a ‘restricted section’ that she wasn’t allowed to go to. HER! The Park Supervisor! And sure, maybe she was simply the temporary supervisor, but who got off on telling her she couldn’t go somewhere in the place she was supposed to supervise?! Well… the normal Park Supervisor, that was who.
 
The other Native American woman had left specific instructions for her temporary replacement. Most of them, Cynthia was happy to follow. However, one of them was… intolerable. Her predecessor had mentioned the restricted area and then told Cynthia NOT to go there. Even underlining parts of the phrase ‘DO NOT ENTER THE RESTRICTED AREA’ a few times for good measure.
 
Seriously? Sure, maybe Cynthia was just the temporary supervisor. But she couldn’t very well take care of this place if she was being stonewalled the entire time! As such… she’d pulled a bit of an underhanded move. She’d gone straight to the Park Rangers and told them that the previous supervisors’ instructions on the matter were very clear. Namely, she needed to be shown the restricted section as soon as possible.
 
The Head Ranger, a woman named Montana, had had this look of amusement in her face that made Cynthia think she saw right through her. Or was maybe privy to the ACTUAL instructions left behind by the other Native American Woman. And yet, she hadn’t called her on it. Instead, without hesitation, Montana had assigned Staci to escort Cynthia out.
 
That led them to the present moment and what Cynthia despised about all of this. She’d asked Staci on the ride over what was even so restricted about the restricted section of the park, and the blonde had giggled for a moment before clamming up. All she could get out of the bitch was ‘you’ll see!’
 
If Staci hadn’t otherwise been relatively respectful so far, Cynthia might have tried her hand at firing the other woman. Frankly, she might still if all of this turns out to be an absurd waste of time.
 
Either way, Cynthia is going to get to the bottom of this. As she follows Staci through the underbrush and they step out into a clearing, the Native American frowns, eyeing the place carefully. It’s very beautiful, of course. Though that cave entrance looks a little ominous.
 
“We’re here!”
 
Blinking, Cynthia looks around.
 
“What? This is it? Why the fuck would THIS place need to be restricted?”
 
“Because of the Beast, of course!”
 
Wait, beast? Is there some sort of animal out here? A predator that might hurt tourists? Cynthia might not have much love for white folk because of her own past experiences, but she recognizes that the tribe gains a lot from working with the Federal Government in managing this National Park. And part of that comes from the tourist angle. If there really is a beast out here, then it might make sense that part of the park is restricted.
 
… But at the same time, how can they possibly keep people out? Wouldn’t it be better to relocate the beast entirely?
 
Just as Cynthia opens her mouth to voice this, there’s a low rumbling from the mouth of the cave… and then the ground shakes slightly as something comes padding out. The Native American woman’s dark brown eyes go wider and wider as something that is definitely NOT a mere beast comes out of the cave… no, the den.
 
As the Skinwalker stretches himself out to his full, towering height, his furred muscles flexing and his entire body on display, Cynthia blanches. She’s heard of this kind of creature. But only in legends. Humans who… were no longer humans. Malevolent witches or sorcerers who managed to transform themselves into twisted versions of the animals that her people once worshipped.
 
“Oh? You’re new.”
 
The Skinwalker sniffs the air and then tilts his wolf-like head to the side as he gives her a doggy grin with way too many teeth to it.
 
“Not virginal though. But that’s alright.”
 
 “Here you are, Supervisor Blackrock! This is the Alpha… our Master.”
 
Whipping her head to the side, Cynthia sees Staci the bubbly blonde Park Ranger looking at the Skinwalker almost… enraptured. Now she understands. The Native American woman isn’t stupid, after all. She’s always been quick and observant. This was why all of the Park Rangers were women. And…
 
“You. You’re the reason that the normal Site Supervisor is on maternity leave, aren’t you?”
 
It’d been sort of a scandal. After all, Cynthia’s predecessor was just as unattached as she was. No one knew who the father was… and it was said that the woman was having triplets at that, which was why she’d had to go on maternity leave only a few months into the pregnancy. But this… Cynthia hadn’t realized there was a Skinwalker under their nose. Why hadn’t her predecessor told anyone?
 
… No, she knew why. Because the tribe was a shadow of its former self. No one would have believed her. They would have tossed her in a mental hospital before daring to believe that the legends from their past could be true.
 
At the same time, Cynthia sees in the Skinwalker’s intelligent eyes his intentions for her. His grin only widens as she blanches, turns, and tries to run.
 
“Wha- Supervisor Blackrock! Where are you going?!”
 
She doesn’t deign to give the blonde an answer. It’s already too late for her. Staci is a casualty of a war older than the poor girl’s fucking country. But Cynthia refuses to be the same. She’s going to get back to the jeep and she’s going to get out of here. She’s-!
 
Of course, she’d heard the Beast give chase behind her. She’d felt the ground shaking under her feet, heard the birds fleeing from nearby trees as the Skinwalker chased her down. But she’d still held out hope, pushing every bit of her strength into her long legs, pumping her arms as hard as possible and going as fast as the wind could carry her.
 
Unfortunately, she only barely makes it to the idling jeep before he catches up to her. A cry leaves Cynthia’s lips as she’s slammed down onto the hood of the jeep, making it rock with the force as her hands slap onto its hot surface. Thankfully it was not so hot it burns her; Staci had been smart enough to park it in some shade.
 
Even still, she feels one massive clawed hand come down upon her head, the digits sliding over her skull. The other rakes down her back and Cynthia screams, expecting to feel pain flare up a moment later. When it doesn’t, she’s confused. Until she feels the wind on her exposed skin.
 
“Nice try, bitch. Your predecessor ran better though. Made me chase her for a good ten minutes before I pinned her down and had my way with her.”
 
Cynthia flushes, whimpering as his hot breath ghosts across her body. He tears again, ripping more of her clothes off of her. She understands why the other woman tried to warn her away now. It was clearly too late for her predecessor to escape his clutches, but she might have avoided it if she’d just been smart enough to stay ignorant and not ask questions.
 
No, not even ask questions… she’d demanded answers. And now, this was her fate.
 
“Heh, she liked to go commando too. But then, that’s a tribal tradition, isn’t it?”
 
Cynthia blushes as her pussy is exposed with the destruction of her jeans. She hadn’t… yes, she went commando. At all times. But tribal tradition? She’d never heard that before. It was just how she was most comfortable. It made her wonder just how long the Skinwalker had been alive. Hundreds of years? Thousands?
 
She doesn’t get much more time to consider it though, because the next thing she knows, he’s pulling her head back with his claws… and sliding into her with his massive but tapered canine cock. Cynthia’s eyes widen as her cunt is stretched upon the Beast’s member. She howls as he spreads and spreads her, her legs quaking from the sensation.
 
Beneath her, the engine of the idling jeep rumbles quietly, reminding her how close she’d been to escaping. Then again, would she have even been able to get away in the jeep? Or would the Skinwalker have been capable of outrunning even a motorized vehicle? In the end… did it really matter?

Tears prick at Cynthia’s eyes as the Beast takes her from behind, slowly at first but with more and more ferocity by the moment. She gasps and groans, whimpering and moaning, shaking and shuddering under him. This isn’t… this isn’t what she wanted. She’d wanted to find someone special. Someone who appreciated her for her. Not… this.
 
And yet, even as Cynthia bemoans her circumstances, her body reacts to the Skinwalker. His cock stretching out her insides soon as her body heating up, her pussy growing wetter. Purely biological responses, she tries to assure herself… even as the moans start to drop from her lips involuntarily.
 
“There it is. There’s the bitch within. All of you women have one. All of you are secretly just bitches in heat, deep down inside.
 
“B-Bastard… a-ah!”
 
The Skinwalker chuckles.
 
“Mm, I like them defiant. Just as much as I like them pliant. Isn’t that right, bitch?”
 
For a second, she assumes he’s talking to her. But then…
 
“Yes, Master!”
 
Staci’s chirpy voice reminds Cynthia that she has an audience. The Native American woman flinches as Staci climbs into the jeep in front of her, one hand stuffed down her ranger shorts and another pulling open the jacket of her uniform so she can fondle her tits. The pigtailed blonde gives Cynthia a raunchy grin, even as she matches the Skinwalker’s tempo, fingering herself faster and harder when he fucks Cynthia faster and harder.
 
“Montana said you were probably warned off and wouldn’t want to check out the restricted area. Apparently, you Indian gals are all a bit more leery of the Beast. She said the other supervisor really acclimated properly to the dynamic. Imagine our surprise when one of the first things you asked for was to be brought right here!”
 
Staci giggles some more, even as the Skinwalker chuckles. Cynthia whimpers. She’d done this to herself. She’d-
 
A loud cry spills forth from the large-breasted Native American woman’s lips as she suddenly reaches an unexpected orgasm upon the Beast’s canine cock. In response, he growls… and picks up the pace. Before she knows it, she can feel the knot at the base of his doggy dick starting to swell and strike against the entrance to her pussy again and again.
 
Cynthia… Cynthia was a bit of a freak. She had NEVER practiced bestiality, to be clear. But the internet was a gateway to some… dangerous things. So yes, she knew all about a dog’s knot. And she knew what happened next.
 
“N-No… no!”
 
But her pleas and denials fall on deaf ears as the Skinwalker howls and tosses his head back, thrusting into her from behind one final time. His knot pushes past the entrance to her cunt, locking them together as it manages to pop inside of her despite being huge. Cynthia’s eyes roll back in her head from the intense sensation even before he begins to cum. And cum. And cum. His seed flows out of his massive ball sack like there’s no tomorrow, never seeming to stop.
 
Cynthia loses track of everything for a moment, and the next thing she knows she’s laid back against the Skinwalker’s broad, furred chest, his massive claws sheathed and his large digits playing with her tits as she lolls her head to the side, a little delirious. Her eyes take a moment to focus, but when they do, she looks down to see her belly painfully distended and bloated. She looks like she’s already six months pregnant as it is!
 
… She can understand why her predecessor was having triplets now. And it seemed she wouldn’t need to get a pet dog any time soon. No… the Native American Woman was going to be having a littler of pups to look after, in due time of course.
 
Courtesy of her new Master.

-x-X-x-

Part 3:

-x-X-x-

She arrives at her new home, far out in the boonies by a National Park, by helicopter of course. Technically there IS a road from her house to the nearest freeway, but not only is it dirt… Monique doesn’t drive. Nor will she have to ever again at this point.
 
The African American woman, standing at just over five and a half-foot tall in heels, steps out of the back of the helicopter, giving her pilot a broad smile and a wave of his hand, one that he returns her. Whether that’s because of her natural beauty or simply because of how well he’s paid for trips like this, Monique doesn’t know. Nor does she care. He’s not the sort of guy she’d invite inside for a drink anyways.
 
Moving off the Helipad and listening as the chopper departs, Monique pats down her burgundy pantsuit, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. One last deal. This was it. From this moment on, the busty, curvaceous, chocolate-skinned woman didn’t have to worry about business any longer. She was officially… retired.
 
To be fair, the life of a real estate mogul wasn’t one that Monique had ever expected for herself to begin with. She’d always been gorgeous. There were a couple touchups here and there, but otherwise her body was entirely natural with very little in the way of silicon. No, her dump truck of an ass and her fat tits were all organic baby. And she’d worked hard to sculpt her body into the perfect hourglass figure as well.
 
What for, one might wonder? Simple of course… to be the best prospective trophy wife she could be. Sure, most rich white men preferred skinny white girls for their trophy wives, but that was quickly becoming a thing of the past. There were more and more incredibly wealthy men out there who had a taste for the ebony, and that was where Monique had decided she would come in.
 
She’d hooked herself a big fish, the sort of man who was thirty years older than her and had it made. He’d been the real mogul, truthfully. In fact, it was his business that Monique had just finished selling off today. Though… it had been ten long years since he’d died, so Monique felt like she’d more than made it her own by this point. And she also felt like he’d agree with her, if he were still alive today.
 
The timeline went a little something like this. She’d married her husband at the age of twenty, when he’d been fifty. Despite being old enough to be her father and then some, they’d actually gotten along rather well. He was quite spry for his age and she’d enjoyed his company in bed as part of her ‘wifely duties’. However, it wasn’t just that.
 
No, her late husband had an eye for potential. He saw things that nobody else saw and knew people could be more than they seemed on the surface. As such, in their five years of marriage, he had not only encouraged Monique to step beyond her role as a trophy wife, but pushed for it… until, when he’d suddenly and inconceivably died of a heart attack at the age of fifty-five, Monique had been left holding the bag, as it were.
 
He’d left her everything. All his wealth. His entire business, privately owned. Monique could have sold it then and there and lived comfortably for the rest of her life. But she’d wanted to prove him right. She’d wanted to make something of herself. And so, for the past ten long years, Monique had gone from trophy wife to consummate businesswoman.
 
She’d stood in more boardrooms then she could count and she’d told more men then she could remember where they could stuff their racism and misogyny. And ultimately, she’d made a name for herself as a cutthroat, ice cold bitch who took no prisoners and ALWAYS got her way, even when some deals fell through.
 
Monique had become the boogeyman of the business world. Or perhaps the boogeywoman. Regardless, she’d turned her late husband’s company into something even bigger than it was when he died. She’d made something that she knew he would have been proud of. But in the end, at the age of thirty-five… Monique was done.
 
She’d always wondered why a man of only fifty-five could die so young. He’d seemed to be in good health after all. The answer was simple. Stress. In just ten years, Monique had learned the sort of stress her late husband must have been under first-hand. And in the end, she’d decided it wasn’t for her. No sir.
 
That was why she’d sold it. That was why she’d retired at the still relatively young age of thirty-five, to live out the rest of her life in luxury, rich beyond belief. With more money than some second world countries, Monique was very much set for life at this point.
 
With all this going through her head, the beautiful African American Woman makes her way into her post-modern forest mansion’s kitchen and sets about preparing herself a drink in celebration. So caught up in her own thoughts, she doesn’t even notice the shifting of a rather large mass in the dark, unlit living room beyond.
 
Of course, as she begins to come out of the kitchen, sipping her well-deserved drink… it becomes impossible to miss, especially when a pair of glowing red eyes appear in the darkness as well.
 
Monique is made of sterner stuff than most. Where most women… hell, where most people would scream and drop their cocktail, she does not. She does, however, freeze in place, her eyes going wider and wider as the glowing red gaze rises higher and higher into the air. Her ceilings are more than high enough to let the monster in her living room stand up to his full height.
 
Finally, still wide-eyed and mostly glued to one spot, Monique reaches over and flicks the light switch. There, towering over her in her living room… is an honest-to-god werewolf. The hulking monster’s lips peel back in what she thinks might be a grin, even as it reveals rows of very sharp teeth.
 
“Hello, Monique.”
 
Monique swallows dryly, only to decide then and there that she might as well be swallowing wetly instead. Taking a long drink from her cocktail to gird herself, she then lifts the glass to the werewolf.
 
“Hello yourself.”
 
Is she hallucinating? She doesn’t think so. She’s never been prone to that sort of thing. And she’s NEVER done drugs. No, Monique has had a clear head and a mind like a diamond for most of her life. And more than that… he’s too fucking real. This werewolf standing in front of her is way too goddamn real to be a hallucination or a figment of her imagination.
 
“Mm, your picture in the newspaper didn’t do you justice.”
 
Monique opens her mouth to respond, only for the werewolf to surge forward. That’s when the freshly retired real estate mogul finally acts. Tossing the rest of her cocktail along with the glass at the monster, she kicks off her high heels in his direction as well and then spins around to run. Unfortunately, she barely gets a step before a claw hooks into the collar of her pantsuit and Monique chokes as she’s abruptly yanked back.
 
“Cute.”
 
A massive clawed hand closes around her skinny waist, leaving the woman with an hourglass figure squirming and struggling in the monster’s grasp. But to no avail. She can’t escape him. She’s… she’s dead.
 
“I’m not here to kill you, Monique.”
 
… What?
 
“I’m here to bed you, you silly bitch!”
 
Wait, what?!
 
Turned around by the werewolf, his red eyes glow as he looks down at her while holding her aloft.
 
“I’ll keep this short. I live near here… over in Full Moon Park. Unfortunately you people rely on fictional currencies much too much in this modern era. I hear you don’t even back your money with gold anymore… not that gold is worth much itself beyond being the prettiest of all the rocks.”
 
Monique blinks rapidly as the werewolf growls in irritation.
 
“… Sorry, I said I’d keep this short. The people who THINK they’re in charge of Full Moon Park have decided to sell off parts of the Park to make a quick buck. Including some close to where I live.”
 
Oh. That was…
 
“I… I understand why that would m-make you upset… but I’m not quite sure what that h-has to do with me. I’m not… in the real estate business anymore.”
 
The werewolf chuckles darkly.
 
“That’s what makes you perfect. Freshly retired with a boatload of that fictional currency… you’re going to donate it, of course. You’re going to donate all of it… and in exchange, you’re going to get to spend the rest of your days as my beautiful breeding bitch. Good trade, don’t you think?”
 
Monique is stunned into speechlessness. But it’s apparently a rhetorical question anyways, because the werewolf doesn’t wait for her answer. Grabbing the front of her burgundy pantsuit, he yanks down hard and a tearing sound fills the air as he rips her clothing off of her body, exposing her naked flesh to his gaze.
 
Here, Monique does squeak a bit from the sudden violence. Even if she herself isn’t injured, it’s still heart stopping to see those massive claws of his raking down at her from above. It takes her a moment to realize she’s not been killed… even as her nipples grow rock hard now that they’re exposed to open air. One last show of disrespect to the men she’d been finalizing the deal with today. Monique had gone braless, knowing full well that their eyes would be all over her, allowing her to not only get one or two final concessions, but also luxuriating in the knowledge that they would never, ever get to touch her.
 
Well, they wouldn’t… but HE would. The werewolf growls as he leans in to suckle at her massive tits and Monique moans, even as the rest of her pantsuit is torn from her in short order as well. Soon enough, the chocolate-skinned woman is wearing nothing but the lacy white thong she’d chosen to have on today. And… one other thing.
 
The werewolf finds it when he tears her thong off. The golden clit piercing with a Queen of Hearts symbol made out of her and her late husband’s melted down wedding rings. He pauses at the sight of it, before chuckling as he taps it with a claw point.
 
“Cute. Very cute.”
 
Monique blushes, recognizing that he somehow knows what the symbol means. She supposes she should be glad he finds it humorous, rather than offensive, given his very black fur. As things stand, it had always been a little bit of a joke… a way to remember her husband, all these years.
 
She almost expects the werewolf to tear it off of her, ripping it from her body… but he leaves it be, much to her surprise. Not that it really matters when he pushes her down onto one of her fifty-thousand dollar couches a moment later, her legs folded up against her body and his massive tapered canine cock pressing against her slit.
 
Monique’s heart races in anticipation and trepidation… but she doesn’t see a way out of this. No, more than that, she doesn’t want to find a way out of this. Something the werewolf notes, even as he teases her entrance with his tip.
 
“Hm. Wet. Very wet. Ah… this is a pleasant surprise. You’re not just perfect for our purposes… you’re also a perfect bitch desperate for a good, hard dicking. Aren’t you, bitch?”
 
Monique shudders, opening her mouth to deny it… but the words catch on her tongue. She… truthfully, she can’t say he’s wrong.
 
Deep down inside, all Monique wants… is to be loved. Those five years with her late husband had been spectacular. Their relationship, initially one based entirely on the transactional nature of her having a body that just wouldn’t quit and him having a lot of money, had actually blossomed into something almost romantic before the end. Affection if nothing else.
 
But love… Monique hadn’t ever truly experienced love. She’d never been able to be her true self either, not since her husband died. Ten years of becoming the boogeywoman of the business world and secretly, all Monique had ever wanted was to be slammed down and ridden so hard that her brain leaked out of her ears.
 
Of course, none of the men she’d had dealings with in the business world were worthy of her body. They might have thought themselves big, strong men because they held the fates of thousands of people in their hands whenever they made a deal. But even the most intense, cutthroat of those men had always felt… pathetic in Monique’s eyes.
 
Maybe that was why she’d decided to move out here into the woods. In the hopes of finding some sort of… sexy lumberjack, a real man living off the land who might give her what she truly desired. Of course, now she finds herself about to be impaled upon a werewolf’s cock and… well, he’d asked her a question, hadn’t he?
 
Licking her lips, the African American woman finally nods.
 
“Y-Yes… yes… sir…”
 
“Heh. Good girl. You can call me Sir, Alpha, or Master from now on. Now… what do you want me to do to you, hm?”
 
“… F-Fuck me. Fuck me, Alpha. Knock me up. Make me your breeding bitch.”
 
It’s shameful and embarrassing how easy the words come to her. But she doesn’t regret them for a single moment, especially when the hulking werewolf thrusts forward a moment later, slamming into her cunt at long last. Monique cries out as she’s impaled upon his humungous canine cock. His tapered tip is pressing against her cervix in an instant and she can do nothing but squeal as he grabs the back of the expensive couch and begins to rail her.
 
Needless to say, her couch doesn’t survive the experience. Monique isn’t sure that she herself survives it. As the Alpha pounds her pussy, reshaping her to his dick, the beautiful retired mogul gets exactly what she wanted. Her brains leaking out of her ears as she gurgles and moans and cums and cums for her new Master.
 
Laying there under him, pinned down and unable to escape while he plows her cunt like there’s no tomorrow, Monique… let’s go. She lets go of all those business deals. She lets go of the memory of her late husband. She still has her clit piercing, something her Master seems content to let her have as an amusement if nothing else, but in the end… in the end, there’s only room for one male in Monique’s life. Her husband is gone. Her Master is present in the here and now.
 
“YES! HARDER! FUCK ME HARDER!”
 
That, the Alpha does with no intentions of relenting. He fucks her all throughout her incredibly expensive forest mansion. The place had cost something like twenty million dollars to have built and furnished, but Monique hadn’t cared. It was a drop in the bucket for someone like her who had those silly little websites claiming her net worth was valued in the billions of dollars. Ridiculous, of course. She probably didn’t have more than three quarters of a billion dollars to her name.
 
But even then, even with around seven hundred and fifty million dollars… Monique would have been able to live in luxury for the rest of her day. However… would she have been HAPPY?
 
No, the African American woman decides as she bounces up and down on her new Master’s cock. Riding him now, Monique groans as she does her best to fill herself with every inch of his canine shaft. She wouldn’t have been happy, all alone in this pathetic replacement for a more natural life. But she would be happy now, with her Alpha taking care of her and filling her with his pups.
 
… Of course, even if she did her best to let go of her old life in those ensuing hours, Monique couldn’t help it. She was who she was to her core. As such, when all is said and done and the Werewolf Alpha has not only pumped her full of his seed but also knotted her, she finds herself resting against his furred chest in the ruins of her home… and thinking.
 
“You want me to sign over all of my riches and wealth to the Park so they don’t have to sell any land, right Master?”
 
The Alpha looks down at her with glowing red eyes and nods after a moment. Monique just grins.
 
“I have a better idea.”
 
-x-X-x-
 
And thus does half of Full Moon Park become privately owned. After all, why give all of Monique’s money to the people who mismanaged the Park so much in the first place that they were considering selling parts of it off, when instead, they can use her money to buy not just those parts but even more as well and keep the place protected?
 
Of course, no one at the top is happy when every single one of the Park Rangers for Full Moon Park resigns from their posts and is subsequently hired by the newly minted Full Moon Incorporated. Meanwhile, the Pack, made up of both the Park Rangers and others, are so very jealous of Monique and her new status as their Alpha’s live-in bitch as she happily disappears into his den to live out the rest of her days there.
 
But Monique doesn’t care about who she might have made unhappy with her final move as a real estate mogul. And she certainly doesn’t care about her fellow bitches being jealous. The cream will rise to the top… always. Her Master is happy and she’s happy. And in the end, that’s all that matters.

-x-X-x-

Looking for something Original from me to read? Check out !

-x-X-x-

If you'd like to read more of my work not seen on this website, check out  and  where I have over a thousand stories!

If you'd like to contribute to funding my writing at all, check me out on 

Thanks for reading!