Meanwhile, Nick and Tiff were already down the road after the unusual closing of Frank’s (hey, small-town businesses can do that—they’re people too). Tiff’s in her seat, cradling the quested, coveted—tasty noms—in her lap as they make their way quickly back to Nick’s (but safely, because—bad weather).

  Nick pulled in close to the front door and honked the horn, per Tiffany’s request. Jarvis opened the front door, saw them, and flew out to get the door for Tiffany as she rushed inside with the food and her bags. Nick parked the car in the barn and lingered a bit longer, lighting the last of his Lucky Strikes. He plopped down on the crisp hay, leaning against the car, letting the quiet settle around him. So much had happened in such a short time, and for once, the barn didn’t feel like a mess—it felt like a place to breathe.

  He heard a small rustling sound. Rolling his head slowly toward the back of the barn, he spotted the same mouse popping out of the hay. It scuttled halfway toward Nick, then stood on its hind legs to wet its tiny paws and groom its face.

  Nick, cigarette dangling from his mouth, remembered something that had fallen out of the food bag Tiffany grabbed in a hurry. He got up, opened the passenger door of the car, reached down to the floorboard, and grabbed a small packet. Gently shutting the door, he plopped back down on the hay with a subtle crunch and tore open the packet, offering a cracker to the mouse.

  It tilted its head, licked its paws again, and scuttled fearlessly toward him. It walked up on all fours, accepted the outstretched offering, then stood upright, holding the cracker above its head in a happy celebratory wiggle. Nick stretched out another cracker and toasted the mouse. They both took a bite—Nick, quietly amused; the mouse, clearly on cloud nine.

  “I don’t suppose you’re the American version of one of those soot sprites that goes around cleaning or fixing people’s stuff, are you? Maybe know the forest spirit? Been on any flying or moving castles?” He laughed to himself, brushing hay off to the side and handing the other half of the cracker to the mouse, who gladly accepted the handoff.

  Nick finished the cigarette, grabbed his towel, and looked back at the mouse.

  “Hey…” The mouse paused mid-meal, looking up at him.

  “You’re in charge when I’m not here, okay? Look after the place for me.”

  The mouse stood rigid, gave what Nick swore was a salute, then did an about-face—cracker in mouth—and scampered back to the haystack at the back of the barn.

  “Well… can’t say that’s the strangest thing I’ve seen all week. Welp… mustn’t keep a lady waiting,” he said, tossing the towel over his head as he jogged toward the house, using it as an shield against the relentless torrent of rain.

  Nick made it inside. Tiffany already had plates of food laid out—her three meals and Nick’s modest *one* barely fitting on the coffee table in front of the couch facing the TV. Ready for stage one of Netflix and grill, Nick went to shower, warming up and rinsing the damp chill from the rain. He returned to the living room in his comfy clothes: just a plain white T-shirt and some workout shorts.

  He popped in a movie while Tiffany wedged in close, plate of food in hand. She’d opted for the spork this time while in her human form—most of the food wasn’t meat and would’ve been nearly impossible to eat with claws. She looked skeptically at the pile of white, lumpy stuff with yellow liquid pooled in the center, creeping over the edges.

  “What’s this?” she asked, poking at it with her spork.

  Nick turned from his own food to see what she was talking about.

  “Oh, that’s grits.”

  Still skeptical, she looked up at him with a cocked eyebrow. “What is a grit?” she asked, scooping some up and taking a bite. The texture and taste were odd, but not unpleasant. Nick laughed at her array of facial expressions as she continued to eat.

  “Geez, Venny—never had grits before?” he teased.

  “It’s just ground corn and butter. Frank makes them from scratch first thing in the morning… I’m kinda surprised he had this much left. Usually he’s out by now. Guess it’s a slow day with the weather we’re having.”

  As if on cue—*Boom*!—a burst of thunder and lightning crashed outside the windows behind them. Tiffany, already close, somehow managed to scoot even closer to Nick—practically in his lap. He wasn’t complaining, but it was funny watching her momentarily startled, yet not missing a beat as she kept eating.

  “It’s so... coarse...” she muttered, trying to get past the texture that was really bothering her, but suffering through it anyway.

  “Next time I’ll call ahead and ask Frank to make it al dente or creamy for you,” Nick teased.

  That earned him an elbow from his encroaching couch companion. She gave him an odd look.

  Sigh. “Never seen *My Cousin Vinny*, I take it?”

  She looked even more confused.

  “Um... as far as I’m aware, you’re the only one in your family I’ve met.”

  “Also... as much as I love your food here, your corn is not winning me over. No more corn, please,” she said, giving Nick a squinty-eyed, perturbed look.

  Nick rubbed his forehead, trying not to laugh at the poor girl.

  “It’s okay. I’ll just add it to the watch-later list,” he said, dropping the topic and settling back into their late-noon breakfast and movie binge.

  Finishing off her hearty breakfast, Tiff snuggled tightly into Nick’s lap as they continued working through the movie list she’d picked from his DVD archive.

  “Remember I said you could make things up to me?” Tiffany purred coyly.

  Nick looked at her blankly.

  “I do, but last I checked, either you still owed me or we were even… I’d rather even,” he said.

  She rolled onto her back and lightly caressed his stubbled face with her fingertips.

  “Or you could just be my knight in comfy-clothed armor and do me a favor,” she crooned with a smirk, tracing small circles with an index finger in his stubble as she looked up at him from his lap.

  She sat up suddenly, nearly headbutting her couch buddy, then hopped off the couch and grabbed the plastic bag by the front door. Spinning on a heel, she jogged happily down the hall to the bathroom.

  “I’ll be right back. I want a shower—then we can discuss terms.”

  “Terms?” he called after her from the living room.

  *Thump!* The only answer he received was the closing of the bathroom door.

  *Sigh… Guess I’ll have to wait and see. Oh well,* Nick thought as his head sank into the headrest couch cushion, staring up at the wood-paneled ceiling. He dozed off, unsure how long he’d been out. Eyes still closed, he could hear the rain beating mercilessly against the aged tin roof. To him, the sound was peaceful—always had a way of lulling him to sleep.

  But now, layered beneath the thunder and rain, came a different sound.

  Click-clack. Claws on the worn wood floor, coming from the hallway.

  Nick cracked an eye toward the entrance.

  A huge, beastly Lupas emerged from the hallway, sporting a snug but comfortable tube top and matching spandex bike shorts—complete with a hole poked in the back for her large, bushy tail. She wore a wide, toothy grin like a Windego masquerading as a wolf, her bright green eyes glowing in the dark hallway entrance. Yet her body language and lolling tongue reminded Nick of a happy-go-lucky golden retriever—if golden retrievers on all fours were the height of a small horse. It was scary, cute, and mesmerizing all at once.

  Tiffany padded toward him, floofy tail swishing behind her, a plastic bag dangling from a protruding canine.

  She plopped down in front of him on her rear, the floorboards protesting in a low *groan*. Her tail arched and swished slowly, the bag still dangling. She opened her mouth, unfurled her tongue, and dropped the bag into his lap. Sitting tall, shoulders back, top strained, and tongue still hanging out, she flashed far too many happy, gleaming teeth.

  Nick sat up without thinking and petted her on the head, working his fingertips through her coarse outer layer, rubbing her skin and soft, downy coat underneath. He gently added more pressure as her eyes closed, ears pulling back in bliss while she leaned into the head pats. Then she looked down at the bag, suddenly serious. Her gleaming green eyes flicked toward it as she tilted her head, now level with Nick’s.

  Inside, Nick found a large wooden-handled brush—thick plastic bristles on one side, metal spines on the other.

  “Come. Sit on the floor so we can watch more movies and you can brush me. Also—I want wubs,” she said, leading him to the throw rug between the coffee table and TV. Her tail swished back and forth as she circled her intended spot a few times before finally flopping down, causing the floorboards to creak and groan under her weight. Looking back at him, she patted a spot for Nick.

  Nick got off the couch and sat beside her, making himself comfortable against her midsection. Tiffany curled around him like a massive, floofy fur wall. He leaned back into her and began brushing her head, which transitioned into a mane as he worked his way down her back.

  She melted into a puddle of fur and bliss, her body vibrating like a small engine purring. Her tail thumped lazily against the carpet as Nick kept brushing.

  After a while, Tiffany shifted, snuggling tighter and resting her head in Nick’s lap as they continued working through the movie list she’d picked from his DVD archive.

  ---

  *Grrrrrrrr*

  "Meh? Huh?"

  *Grrrrrrrggle*

  Nick woke to the sound of Tiffany’s stomach growling. She lay passed out, snoring audibly on the floor, curled up with her large head resting in his lap. He gently slid both arms under her head, lifting it just enough to ease out from beneath her, then gingerly set her head atop a throw pillow he found tucked under the coffee table behind him—letting the content, slumbering wolf sleep.

  The bots were taking the day off, both relaxing and running diagnostics while perched on their charging docks.

  Nick quietly snuck out the front door. Tiffany’s ear perked up and swiveled in his direction as he stepped outside.

  *Thunk*

  *Minutes passed.*

  *Shunk*

  Nick gently closed the door behind him, arms full of the last of Tiffany’s hunt. He glanced toward the living room floor—Tiffany still curled in a tight ball, one flat ear perked and swiveling toward him. Her tail lazily lifted and dropped once with a soft thump as the snoring continued.

  He continued to the kitchen and noticed a note.

  —

  Dear Madam or Sir,

  Please enjoy each other’s company. My atrocious roommate and I will be down for the next few hours doing our weekly defrag while we charge. (Sir, please flip over. Mum, DO NOT READ.)

  Be forewarned: Mum deeply has feelings for you (among other things). She doesn’t know her own strength and has been quite... pent up. You have been warned. Treat her with the love, respect, and—I believe how she’d put it— needs “wubs.” Or else... you’ve been warned.

  —

  Well then... that was an unusual note. Wonder what he meant? Nick thought as he loaded the hyper warmer, dumping in the meat and a few vegetables from the deep freezer that needed to be eaten. Setting the timer, he walked back to the bathroom to dry off and change into fresh clothes, tossing the damp ones into the dryer.

  He plated the food, taking only a small portion of meat for himself with extra veggies. Tiffany’s plate got a generous helping of meat and just a few sparse vegetables. As he set her plate on the old, varnished kitchen table, he noticed—out of the corner of his eye—her ears perk up and swivel toward the clatter of ceramic.

  *Clack—Clatter*

  Her tail lifted and began to *thump* heavily on the living room throw rug. It thumped faster as her nose shot straight up, catching the scent of warmed meat. She rolled onto her stomach, doing an exaggerated downward dog stretch with her tail high—swishing in the air as she yawned and licked her chops.

  “Pfft-ha.” Nick chuckled, watching Tiffany in wolf form stretch.

  “What?” she growled sleepily, sitting upright and bending backward to stretch her spine, then side to side.

  “Nothing... It’s not every day you see a humanoid wolf creature your size—actually, any size—in a downward dog.”

  “You know you liked it,” she replied with a grin.

  Nick was about to respond but stopped.

  *Good gravy... how is that top holding those things in? Each one’s bigger than my freaking head. Is she completely oblivious to the amount of cleavage spilling out the top and bottom? ...Aaannnddd her nips went hard... great, she’s going to notice me staring. Must—stop—staring...*

  Nick’s brain went into full lockdown mode.

  Tiffany noticed his stunned gaze as she followed the trail to her chest, blushing slightly—her face flashing a whitish pink as she saw the pop-tents her nipples had made in the overstretched fabric of her tube top. She reached up and patted them down, breaking his trance.

  She padded over to her spot—no chair, just the plate—and sat on the floor, slunked under the table. Her eyes poked above the edge, staring at the plate. Then she froze.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “What’s this? And why is it touching my meat?” she asked, clawed index finger hovering above the yellow, buttered cob.

  “It’s corn. Figured you could use some roughage…”

  She stabbed the offending vegetable with a clawed index finger and flicked it effortlessly. It landed—miraculously—on Nick’s plate and stayed.

  “Last warning—no corn,” she growled before sitting upright and proceeding to stab the platter full of cubed meat chunks.

  “Well fine then, sourpuss,” he said, picking up the cob and taking a bite.

  “I don’t think Jarvis would approve of your table manners.” She stopped mid-bite, looking around.

  “Where is he anyway...? Normally he’s buzzing about and sitting down at chow time,” she asked, ignoring his jab at her less-than-stellar vegetable etiquette.

  “He and Glitchet retired for the evening—for what he called a defrag and charge. Said they’d be down for a couple of hours.”

  Nick polished off his veggies and moved on to the few pieces of meat he’d saved for himself, having given Tiffany the majority.

  “So... now what?” he asked, popping a cube of meat into his mouth with a fork.

  Tiffany looked up from her plate, paused, and gave an exaggerated stretch with her arms, ignoring the protesting seam under her arm as a stitch gave way. Nick glanced up, noticed, then quickly returned his focus to his plate, waiting for her answer.

  “Hmmm, we can pick up more cuddles and movies tomorrow. I’ll probably get up extra early to hunt down some fresh meat... Wait—actually, I still have a stash in my freezer unit. It’s not as fresh, but it’s still good. If you don’t mind me setting it up in a corner?”

  He took another bite, swirling the next chunk around in the juices before chewing.

  “Whatever’s easiest for you. I’m pretty sure even if the rain stops, you’ll be tromping around in the mud getting soaked and dirty anyway.”

  She nodded thoughtfully, then jabbed the last few pieces of meat with her claw and popped them into her mouth. Without thinking, she picked up the plate and began lapping up the remaining juices with her large canine tongue.

  Nick sighed, scooted back, and walked over to the oblivious wolf still happily licking the plate. He gently took it from her, earning a look like he’d just taken a half-eaten ice cream cone from a child—except in her case, she was licking the wrapper.

  He set the plate aside, wiped her mouth, kissed the end of her nose, then gently wiped her claws before taking the dishes to the sink.

  Tiffany sat quietly at the table, staring at the now-empty spot where her plate had been. She whimpered softly.

  “I think I’m going to try to get some sleep. Thank you... for everything.”

  Nick walked past her to grab his glass, but was stopped by a large, hairy, clawed hand gently grasping his forearm. Tiffany, still seated on the floor, pulled him into a warm, furry embrace and hugged him tight.

  “We can pick up tomorrow. Thank you so much. For everything.”

  She let go, stood, and hunched as she padded toward her new room. The door closed behind her.

  Nick’s gaze lingered on the door, his thoughts tangled in quiet confusion. He stood there for a moment, then exhaled.

  “Love you too, ya big crazy fur ball,” he breathed out, shutting down the house for the night, and stumbled off to his own bed.

  Nick lay in his bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep despite how tired he was. Tiffany was in her room, too, but for different reasons. In her human form, she pressed pillows against her ears, trying to block out the ongoing thunderstorm outside.

  *This is stupid... I can't take it anymore*, she thought, lying in bed, the pillows pressed tightly against her ears failing to block the sound of the storm.

  *There's a perfectly hot guy in the room down the hall who I clearly like, and I know he likes me... Oh, fudruckles, I want him so bad...* Her body heat spiked at the thought.

  It was like her body answered her thoughts—her nether regions and inner thighs growing slick at the idea of him and her… doing… stuff.

  *Jeez, at least to have someone to snuggle with during the thunderstorm, and yet here I am, cowering alone in bed,* she grumbled, throwing her legs over the side of the bed, wearing only a thin, oversized t-shirt.

  She slipped past her room and the sleeping droids, tiptoeing quietly to Nick’s door. It wasn’t shut all the way.

  She sneaked inside, sliding under the blankets at the foot of the bed, seeking out the warmth and comfort of Nick’s side. His scent was intoxicating as she slowly scooted across the mattress under the covers, until she felt something warm.

  Nick heard his bedroom door creak open. His eyes tried not to notice the small, petite figure sneaking inside, but he felt a gentle shift in the bed. Then he caught the smell—a powerful musk, so strong he instantly became hard at the whiff. Suddenly, a small, dainty hand grasped his shaft, making him jolt. The other person was just as surprised, letting out an “Eeep!” and quickly pulling away, realizing what she’d grabbed.

  “Why aren’t you wearing clothes?!? And why is THAT hard?!” Tiffany squeaked from under the covers, popping her head out for air, flustered.

  Nick smiled at her silhouette; even in the dark room he could see her face flush red as a tomato.

  “Well, one, it’s my room—not to mention my house... Why are you in my room anyway?” he asked, curious, not accusatory. She pulled the covers up to her nose, hiding her mouth as she looked at him.

  “Um... I was scared and lonely—I just didn’t want to be by myself. Also, if I may ask... why are you, um, hard... down there?”

  He blushed this time.

  “Well, I blame you for that... Like I said before, you smell strong... and, well, this happens. Sorry, I’m not trying to be a perv or a creep.”

  She stared at him for a moment. The only sounds besides their heavy breathing were the pounding rain, bursts of thunder, and crackling lightning illuminating the room—casting their shadows on the wall.

  “Would you hold me...? Please?”

  He said nothing, rolling toward her and wrapping an arm around her, drawing her close in a warm embrace. He ran a hand across her back, comforting her. Her body felt limp in his arms as they held each other. She nuzzled the side of his head with hers, and he gently nibbled her ear, eliciting a soft gasp as her body shuddered.

  A smile crept across his lips. He wanted to test a theory—though little did he realize some theories are best left… untested.

  He moved his face close to hers; their eyes locked as they kissed with a heated passion—like the small embers they’d felt in the woods before the transport ship interrupted. Here, no interruptions. Just the two of them becoming one.

  She parted her lips from his, her flushed face radiating heat as she panted heavily. Her eyes half-closed as she gently moved to continue what they had started. Nick shifted playfully, then in a swift motion, nipped her ear—hard.

  Her whole body tensed. Eyes shot wide open, her back spasmed and arched. He felt something warm spray across his chest—a heavy musk that quickly permeated the bed and everything on it. Then, like a switch flipping, her eyes narrowed into slits as she glared at him—not angry, but primal, starving. Something he hadn’t seen in her human form.

  With sudden force, she flipped him onto his back and rolled on top of him, her gaze unwavering.

  “I was trying all this time to be a good guest, an honest girl... and you did the one thing I told you not to do. I’m not responsible for what happens next,” she growled, voice raspy and choked.

  She slid close, her warmth and wetness pressing against him like a claim, marking her presence. Hovering above, she found his arousal and gently guided him inside. Her breath hitched, her body paused—then eased down, slow and deliberate.

  She began to ride him, pacing herself with quiet intensity. He grasped her hips, matching her rhythm as she found her groove. His hands wandered upward, caressing her breasts—squeezing, kneading, each touch melting away the world’s weight. With a thumb on each fully budded nipple, he drew a soft, pleased gasp from her lips. A low mechanical growl reverberated from her core, vibrating through him as her eyes rolled back with every thrust.

  Her gaze returned to Nick. Pausing, poised in his lap, she pulled his face to hers and began to stroke him slowly, deliberately, as they painted each other’s faces with kisses. She leaned in close, whispering in his ear:

  “I’ve fallen for you since the moment we met. I love you with every fiber of my being… I choose you. If you accept me.”

  He sat up, grasped her face, and kissed her—heated, passionate, overwhelming. She melted in his arms, time freezing around them, heat and emotion radiating like a storm held in skin.

  When he broke the kiss, her expression was bliss-struck, her mind short-circuited by everything wrapped in that moment.

  “I love you too,” he whispered, nuzzling her cheek, nibbling at her ear. “And I accept everything you are… and whatever comes with you.”

  She bit her lip, tensed, then clamped down on him—hard. One hand pressed to his chest, pushing him back down as she resumed her pace. Something felt strange to Nick. Not just her sudden enthusiasm, but the heat—steadily climbing, not painful, but intense. Her nether regions clamped around him with vice-like intensity.

  She felt it too. Every nerve ablaze, her spine lit like a live wire—from tailbone to neck. She was gone, lost in the moment. He gripped her hips, just trying to hold on.

  Then something started to change—gradually.

  Crackle.

  Lightning flashed outside. In its brief illumination, he saw her pale skin darkening—shifting to onyx. She didn’t flinch at the thunder or the storm crashing beyond the window, lost to the flood of sensation overloading her body. Nick stared, stunned, as Tiffany began to resemble something unfolding from a horror film—beautiful, terrifying, otherworldly.

  Then he felt it in his hands: soft red fur sprouting beneath his fingers as he caressed her hips, which widened under his grip.

  *Crack—pop—creeeeaaaak—grooooaaannn.*

  So many sounds echoed around them: joints reversing, bed springs groaning, wood straining, cracking. With every thrust, they sank deeper into the mattress. Nick watched, powerless, as his partner above him grew—her once-oversized shirt shifting from loose to snug, then tight, until her compressed breasts burst free from the overstretched fabric. The whole garment shredded, unable to contain her expanding frame of fur and muscle.

  She hunched down, her warm, heavy, furred breasts pressing against Nick’s face as she rocked with reckless abandon. For her, it was like a dam finally caving to the flood—unstoppable, euphoric. For him, it was heat, pleasure, and a gradually increasing pain from her weighted thrusts.

  Nick couldn’t move. The mattress had caved around him like Styrofoam around an action figure—tight, unyielding. He was pinned, trapped in place, forced to watch the inevitable unfold.

  “Tiff!” he yelped in protest.

  “Feels—too—good—can’t stop—almost—there!” she grunted between breaths, her voice a gruff growl that matched the bed frame’s own groaning protest beneath them.

  She pinned his arms back, putting all her force into her broadened, fur-covered hips. Her tail slapped each side of the bed in a frenzied blur. As she hit the upstroke, her tail arched straight, fur frazzled like she’d been struck by lightning. On the final, powerful downstroke, it was like a geyser erupting beneath her—everything gave at once.

  *Crack—Boom—Crunch—Aaaahhhhh!*

  The mixture of Tiffany’s euphoric climax, the bed collapsing in a crumpled heap, and Nick’s high-pitched scream (not the kind she’d hoped for) snapped her out of her trance. She sat atop the wreckage and looked beneath her.

  Nick wasn’t breathing.

  She leapt off in a panic, realizing Nick was completely crushed from his lower torso to his knees. The once-comfortable bedding was soaked—her fluids, his blood.

  “Nick! Nick!” she cried. No response. He still wasn’t breathing.

  “Jarvis, emergency medical lift—now!” she screamed through tears, her voice cracking as she shook him, desperate for any sign of life.

  Jarvis activated the emergency protocol without question. He hovered silently, confused and concerned, watching his friend crumpled over their host. Tiffany sobbed uncontrollably, her body racked with grief, emitting low, agonizing whimpers and howls. She didn’t know what else to do.

  Tiffany knelt beside Nick, trembling. Her hands were slick with blood and panic. She pressed her ear to his chest. Nothing. She nudged his head with her muzzle. It limply rolled to the side. Still nothing.

  “Please wake up... Don’t leave me alone again...” she whispered.

  The only response was silence—and the thunderstorm outside, rattling the old single-pane windows in short, random bursts.

  She whispered his name again, softer this time. As if her whimpering might break the silence. As if love and pleas alone could restart a heart.

  *Crackle—BOOOOM.*

  *Death By Snu-Snu, To Be Continued...?*

  *Yes??----No*