Wolf for Hire

Chapter Thirteen

The
spasms subsided, and my body settled. Fur still clung stubbornly to my
skin, my claws hadn't receded in the slightest. Nor did I need a mirror
to know my face still sported a muzzle and sharp teeth. This was now my
natural state, the way I was meant to be… for the time being.

Pushing
myself to sit upright, I tested a tentative stretch. My joints ached,
but they held steady. Touching my snout, I ran a claw over my elongated
teeth. A wolf-mask for my wolf-clothes.

My
attention snapped to the sound of the backdoor creaking open, followed
by the sounds of dozens of paws clicking excitedly across the porch.
Clearly, Coy had entered the house and decided to let his fellow dogs
out. Moments later I was being swarmed by all the dogs, their cold noses
prodding me from every angle. It wasn't clear to me what they found so
interesting about my current state. I mean, they had already seen me as a
wolf before. But, perhaps, I was covered with sufficiently new and
novel smells to find entertaining.

I was like a beauty catalogue for dogs, the ones with the peel-able sample tabs that let you smell the new perfumes. In today's issue, featuring AJ, Wolf Accountant, we have: Dirt, Grass, and Chlorinated Pool Water.

The
dogs sniffed and nudged, tails wagging wildly, and I just sat there,
too sore to move. Like the day before, their emotions hit me like a
tidal wave—curiosity, joy, and a chaotic energy that made my head spin.
At first I tried to resist the feelings, as I had yesterday, but then I
remembered I was supposed to play the role of wolf.

Let the emotions flow through you—join the Dog Side.

What was the worst that could happen? That I get the zoomies?I
took a deep inhale, imagining myself tensing up, then exhaled slowly,
and imagined my body relaxing. Not the most sophisticated form of
meditation, but it often did the trick for me. My body followed my mind,
and I felt myself loosening up. Which, in turn, allowed me to open up
to the cacophony of the dogs' thoughts.

I
would say that the results were made somewhat lackluster by the
soreness and fatigue I was experiencing at the moment. What filled me
would be best described as an overwhelming giddiness followed by an
impulsive desire to run in circles, roll on the ground, and play a game
of tag—or just chase something. However, when I tried to act on this
instinct, I was painfully reminded that I was in no shape to do either
of these things. Save for perhaps rolling on the ground.What was
more noteworthy was the wolf's response to the sudden surge of emotion.
The wolf, who'd been quietly napping, was taken by surprise as the wave
of feeling crashed into her. I could feel the abrupt jolt of her waking
in panic—as if woken by an airhorn. Confused and enraged, she was a
sleeping dog that I didn't let lie. She rushed to the forefront
of my mind, in full attack mode, only to find the driver seat empty. No
threat. No danger. Just a false alarm and a wheel rocking back and forth
on its own accord, while I did much the same in the grass.

With
a huff, and what I could only describe as a sense of parental
disapproval, as if I were the unruly pup in this situation, the wolf
once again retreated to the back of my mind and curled up.Hey, you made me do this, I thought at her, to which she didn't dignify a response.

Monty
tightened around my neck, and I suddenly remembered why I'd rushed home
in the first place. Fighting through the sensory overload, I dragged
myself to my feet, commanding the dogs to give me some space. They
didn't entirely listen, but they let me shuffle past them, their noses
still twitching as they followed.

Inside,
I made my way to Monty's enclosure. She coiled around my arm as I
unwound Monty from my neck, but slid off easily as I set her into her
sunning basket.

"Time to relax," I said, as I slowly buried her with the pillows. She poked out her head, tongue flickering, and settled in.

"One
more down," I muttered, running a clawed hand through my matted mane.
The chlorine from the pool was making my skin itch. Along with the dirt,
twigs, and leaves stuck in my fur, the feeling was becoming unbearable,
making me uncomfortable in my own skin—and pelt.

On top of that, my ribs continued to throb.

Human or not, I needed a shower.

When
I glanced at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I winced. My fur was
stiff and patchy, caked with grass and grime, and my damp clothes clung
to me like a second skin. I looked at my legs and mourned the wasted
effort I spent this morning trying to shave them. I'd need
hedge-trimmers now.

Learning
from my past mistakes, I made sure that I had a towel ready, and I also
brought my clothes from the dryer too. Once I was showered and in clean
clothes, perhaps I'd be in a better headspace to try shifting back
again. Hopefully, I could figure this out before JT came back.
Explaining to him why the Big Bad Wolf was in his sister's house, and
how it had lost her dog, was not a conversation I wished to engage in.The sooner I figured out how to get out of my wolf-clothes, the sooner I could head into town and find Boden.

After
a minute of shepherding the dogs that had followed me into the bathroom
back out into the hall, I closed the door and disrobed. Sure enough,
even under my clothing I was covered in a thick pelt. Not a single
square itch of skin was spared. Nor was the tattoo on my back visible at
all.

One problem at a time, I suppose.I
decided I had time for one more experiment. Sitting onto the rim of the
tub, I inhaled and exhaled, performing my standard breathing exercises
and tried to focus on, well, being human. I closed my eyes, trying to
imagine myself as normal AJ again, visualizing my normal hands, feet
with toes, and smooth, furless skin.

At some point I must have blacked out from the strain.

It
was hard to tell since my eyes were closed, but I was pretty sure I'd
passed out. I'd been sitting in one moment, and, in the next, I was in
the tub being greeted with a pounding headache. It appeared that I'd
fallen backward and smacked my noggin on the other side of the tub.
Emma, Rosie, and Annie were also in the tub with me, licking my face in
an attempt to resuscitate me. Maggie leaned over the edge, her eyes
filled with concern, while the rest of the pack crowded into the
bathroom. I felt a tug on my tail and groggily reached for it, only to
pull up the terrier from earlier.

"How'd you get in here?" I growled. "Coy, did you leave the door open?"

Coy huffed innocently, but we both knew he wasn't fooling anyone.

Bracing
myself to stand to get up, I tried to reach for the edge of the tub,
grabbing the shower knob instead. An icy blast of water shot out,
soaking me and the dogs in one cold sweep.

The tub erupted into barks and yips as the dogs scrambled to escape. I waved them out, herding them through the doorway.

"All
of you, out! And someone keep an eye on that little menace," I said,
pointing at the terrier who, at some point, seemed to have ingratiated
themself amongst the other dogs—just one of the pack now.

The
water heated up as I stepped under the spray, only to immediately crank
the temperature way down. Normally, I preferred my showers just a few
degrees below scalding, but now the only temperature I could tolerate
would've left regular me freezing her ass off. New body, new
preferences, it seemed.

If saving on the electric bill was a silver lining of lycanthropy, I'd take whatever I could get.

In
hindsight, I should've brushed before bathing. Loose fur accumulated
about the drain with astonishing regularity, and I had a lot of it. Each
time I thought I was done, it wasn't more than mere moments that
another wad of fur built itself up and blocked the flow.

Then
came the debate over shampoo and conditioner. Sandy's supply was the
same Garnier Fructis she'd stocked for JT, but it occurred to me that
human shampoo would irritate a dog's skin—didn't want to make myself
itchier. But then again, I wasn't technically a dog—even though I may be
suffering from similar characteristics. Ultimately, I decided that, if I
was going to be hairy from head to foot, I might as well make hair
silky smooth.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Not exactly L'Oréal, but, baby, I was worth it.

My
thick coat devoured as much shampoo as I could scrub in it. The shower
had one of those removable heads, which made rinsing more manageable and
kept water out of my ears. That, I learned quickly, was an unexpectedly
miserable sensation. Water in my human ears wasn't all that pleasant
either, but it paled in comparison. With my ear now large, and more
sensitive, the sensation was akin to having the tips of a stethoscope
shoved down your ear canal while the other end was used as a tiny drum.

No wonder dogs hated baths so much.

By the time I finished shampooing myself, I'd emptied the bottle, and the drain was entirely clogged.

The conditioner didn't last much longer.

So,
all-in-all, I wouldn't say lycanthropy was all that economic in terms
of bathing. Sure, I might save on heating costs, but I'd blow it all on
shampoo and conditioner. Not to mention it'd be hell on the plumbing.

Next
came drying off. I'd remembered a towel this time, but it was woefully
inadequate for my soggy self. I was certain that my pelt held more water
than a single towel could handle. Sandy kept a hairdryer in the
bathroom drawer I could use, though I suspected I'd need a leaf blower
to do the job right. Still, it was worth a shot.

As
I fanned myself with the dryer, an odd itch started crawling down my
spine. It wasn't a normal itch that you could scratch—more like the urge
to sneeze. It built slowly, growing stronger by the second.

Before I could figure out what was happening, my body acted on its own.

A full-body shake rippled through me, starting at my head and traveling all the way to my tail.

Water sprayed in every direction, drenching the walls, floor, ceiling, and mirror.

Dizzy and disoriented, I staggered back, grabbing the sink to steady myself.

When the world stopped spinning, I surveyed the disaster.

Strands of dark, wet fur clung to every surface, in stark contrast with the pale bathroom tiles.

I wiped a patch of mirror clean and stared at my reflection.

My fur stuck out in wild tufts, like I'd stuck a finger in an outlet.

All
that left was toweling off my legs—which was a more manageable process
compared to my entire body. But, as expedient as my shake-off had been,
once you factored in the clean-up, I wasn't saving that much time after
all.

Next time I'd be sure to stay in the shower.

Even
better, I'd left my change of clothes on the sink countertop, and
they'd gotten a thorough coating of... well... me. Even if I managed to
return to human form, the smell of wet dog was going to haunt me for
days to come.

After
brushing and blow-drying myself as best I could, I made a mental note
to buy a dog brush to the growing list of things I either need to buy,
or compensate Sandy for. I'd broken most the teeth off her comb, and was
now using a brush that was all too small to use on my entire body.While
I was sure Sandy had several dog brushes lying around, god knew there
was no way I was sharing one with another dog. I had standards.

Cracking the bathroom door, I peeked out to make sure JT wasn't home yet, then darted into the guest room.

It
looked exactly how I'd left it this morning: a mess of blankets and
pillows strewn across the floor. And, in the middle of it sat a garden
gnome, its red hat bearing deep teeth marks where it had been used as a
chew toy.

My chew toy.

Well,
not by me, obviously, but by the wolf in me. She'd picked it up at some
point—a little souvenir from her recent nighttime escapade. And though I
could recall much of the previous night, for the life of me, I couldn't
recall which yard she'd stolen it from; the tracks we'd followed led
through half a dozen suburban neighborhoods, with countless yards. Any
of which might have once been home to a now missing garden gnome.

A mystery best left unsolved.

I turned my attention to the act of dressing, or lack thereof.

My
tail made putting on underwear awkward but still manageable. Jeans,
however, were a no-go. Technically, I could wear them like an
early-2000s rapper, sagging them low enough to accommodate the tail. But
that wasn't my style.

Fortunately,
I'd spotted a pair of JT's scrubs in the laundry room. Baggy, soft, and
with plenty of leg space, they'd work much like sweatpants and had
enough room to accommodate a tail. I'd already been caught wearing
Sandy's clothes by JT, so I might as well go for broke.

Moving
to the upstairs, I wrestled with my sports bra, which was much tighter
than usual thanks to my newer—fluffier—physique. With my ribs still sore
from Monty's scaly embrace, it made moving, and breathing, rather
unpleasant, and I eventually gave up on it. But going half-commando was
still better than full-commando.

At
least my turtleneck went on easily enough, though my fur puffed out
from the cuffs and collar, making it look like I was wearing a fur-lined
sweater.

Bottomless,
I made my way back to the laundry room to find JT's pants and I sniffed
them to... you know... make sure they were clean. Once back in the
guestroom I pulled on JT's scrubs to complete my ensemble.

I stepped back and took in the full picture in the mirror.

The sight was enough to make a grown woman cry.

But, I was cleaned and clothed, so I seated myself on the floor. It was time for another try at transforming myself.

After
making sure I wasn't going to hit my head against anything, I decided
to focus solely on my feet and nothing else. The idea was that this
might reduce the strain into something more bite-sized that I could
handle. If I could just make them human-enough to hide in a pair of
shoes, I'd be good to go.

Pain
lanced through my legs as my toes started to shift, bones popping in
protest. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced the transformation to
continue, imagining myself as a werewolf that could wear sneakers—a wolf
in street clothes. The sensation of my bone and muscle reshaping was
not unlike how I'd imagine having legs turned to paste under the wheels
of a steam roller would be. Perhaps, over time, I'd get desensitized to
the sensation, but right now, I could only tolerate it for barely a
half-minute.

When
I opened my eyes to observe my progress, I was dismayed to see that,
while my feet were a little more human-like than before, moving them
further into the territory of Uncanny Valley, they were still clearly
the feet of a werewolf. Or a wolf-like human. Or, perhaps, a mascot.

You could go either way.

More importantly, they were still inadequate for wearing shoes, except for, maybe, rain boots.When I tried to stand, I immediately crumpled back to the floor.

My
feet felt like I'd run them over broken glass barefoot: not unlike the
pins and needles you get when your legs fall asleep, but cranked up to
eleven. While my half-assed transformation hadn't changed my feet's
outward appearance all that much, it had done a number on their internal
wiring.

Apparently, I could hobble myself.

I rolled onto my back, clutching my feet, stringing together lines of profanity that would surely demonetize any Youtube video.

"Having difficulties, are we?"

The voice, smooth and sardonic, came from the desk behind me.

My head snapped toward the desk. There sat Solomon, paws tucked neatly under him, his tail flicking lazily.

"Where the hell have you been?" I growled, sitting upright.

He stretched, his back arching and claws extending. "I don't see how that's relevant." he said, as he began to lick his paw.

"I'm in this mess because of you." I glared up at the cat, all the while still rubbing my feet to get the prickling to stop.

"Me?" His ears twitched. "Whatever did I do? Besides, perhaps, tell you what you should have already known?"

"Don't
give me that bullshit. You withheld information and let me get roped
into walking the dog after the moon rose. That's why so many familiars
went missing." I felt myself growling, a low rumble in my chest, and was
surprised to realize that I was the one doing it, not the wolf. She was
still curled up in the back of my mind.

No, all the wolfing around now was all me.

The longer I was in my wolf-clothes, the more they seemed to fit.

Solomon began rubbing his face with his paw, his movements unhurried. "I wouldn't call wandering around missing.
They are free spirited creatures after all." Solomon continued grooming
himself slowly, methodically. Meanwhile I continued to glare at him.Eventually, he returned my look.

"You're
also assuming I'm under any obligation to help you. That is not the
case. And, if fact, you could say I've only ever been altruistic toward
you."

"Oh, really?" I reply, rolling my eyes. "Pray tell. What altruism do you plan to subject me to now?"

"The grace of my company."

"You're shitting me."

Solomon
yawned, his teeth flashing. Then, he stood, stretched, and hopped over
to the bed where he rolled onto his side like a cat inviting you to rub
its belly. But his placement was just out of reach, as if to taunt me.

"Do continue," he drawled, his voice thick with mock encouragement. "I won't get in your way."

I
clenched my fists, forcing myself to focus on my feet again. If I could
just manage this small thing—if I could make them usable, enough to
stand up and slap a cat—I'd call it a win.

The
sensation in my feet lessened, becoming bearable even, but I couldn't
seem to make much if any progress on their appearance. I could feel my
body's desire to change—my desire to change—but there seemed to be a
wall I was pushing up against that I couldn't break through.

From the corner of my eye, Solomon stretched languidly, his movements slow and deliberate, ending with a theatrical yawn.

"Fine!"
I snapped, my patience unraveling. "I could use your help with this.
That's why you're here, right? To provide me with wisdom or
instruction?"

His whiskers twitched with what I could only interpret as amusement.

"I think you misunderstand my reason for being here," he said.

I glared up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Then why the hell are you here?"

"Company,
as I said. That, and I'm waiting for you to finish these silly
exercises," he said, matter-of-factually. "It's time for lunch, you see,
and I'm feeling rather peckish. Aren't you?"

"No." I said flatly.

The
thought of food churned my stomach. Images of the partially eaten buck
flashed through my mind, and any appetite I might have mustered
vanished.

"Even
if that was the case, you can't neglect the needs of your charges,"
Solomon said, his voice pointed, a subtle edge in his tone.

I
reached for my purse and dug out my phone, sighing when I saw the time.
It was well past noon, and that meant it was time to feed the animals.
Testing my feet, which had dulled slightly in their sensitivity, I stood
shakily and grabbed JT's checklist.

I left my purse open on the
desk, next to the garden gnome.