2019 Deviantart Story Request - The Lycanthrope Club: The Other Bet

"How about you expanding the moments of when all the girls in the club except for Melinda broke the no disclosure rule she made for the club."

-mr-Sy

Gregory McCloud sprinted down the unlit corridor. He could barely see where he was going but didn't dare slow down. He caught glimpses of classrooms, lockers and notice boards on either side as he ran but paid them no heed. He had to get out. The hallway ahead suddenly ended in a T-intersection. Greg skidded to a near stop but slammed into the wall with a loud thump. Cursing, he pushed against the wall, launching himself forward, and continued along the passage to the right. His rapid footsteps echoed throughout the otherwise silent building. 

Greg glanced to his left. There were large windows every ten feet or so along the wall here but they offered little in the way of illumination; it was night, and a particularly dark one at that. Beyond the windows Greg could make out clusters of large, indistinct silhouettes - most likely trees or parked vehicles as this side of the building faced the school parking - and tiny, distant motes of orange light - streetlights. There didn't seem to be anyone around, inside or outside the school, but Greg knew he wasn't alone. He grimaced and kept running.

Eventually he spied a familiar set of sturdy double-doors at the end of the hall. A glowing red translucent sign with the words 'EXIT' printed on it in bold letters could be seen above the egress, seemingly floating in the darkness. Greg slowed to a jog and stopped before the doors. Panting, sweat dribbling down his brow, he pressed the left door's touch bar handle with both hands but it did not budge. Greg groaned in despair. He pushed harder, his arms bulging with effort, but it didn't open. Greg screamed and slammed his bulky frame into it once, then twice. The doors rattled and buckled but held fast. 

"Dammit," growled Greg, shaking his head. 

He reached down to retrieve his cell phone only to remember he was wearing his black polyester football pants, which had no pockets. 

"Christ," breathed Greg, shaking his head. He stepped back but then quickly grabbed the door bars. He stood there for a few seconds, hunched over, gasping for breath. He'd barely ran a hundred yards yet he felt like he was about to faint. Was he still worn out from the game? Had he pushed himself too far when he tried to break down the doors? Or had the shock of what he had witnessed been too much for him to handle?

Summoning his final reserves of strength, Greg grit his teeth, let go of the door and stepped back. He teetered for a second or two but managed to stay upright. He looked around in a half-daze and realized he was essentially standing in a dead end. He licked his lips nervously. All the other doors along the hall led to classrooms and he couldn't just hide in one of them all night. They'd probably be locked in any case. The only open exit was the way he'd come and that simply wasn't an option. Suddenly, Greg stared thoughtfully at the windows. He scanned the corridor for anything large or dense enough to shatter glass. Though he saw nothing useful - indeed, very little at all in the darkness - he recalled there was a fire extinguisher near the corner of the T-intersection. It would do. Greg took a deep breath, exhaled and hurried down the hall - not running, but not exactly walking either.

As Greg made his way down the hall, frantic terror gave way to creeping dread. His listened intently between steps for any sound, no matter how slight or innocuous. His eyes, having adjusted to the gloom, darted back and forth, searching for anything untoward or uncanny. He approached the intersection and, in the faint, pale light emanating through the windows, spotted a red cylinder hanging off the wall near the corner. Greg wiped the sweat from his face, hurried over and yanked the fire extinguisher off the wall. He gasped at its unexpected weight but nonetheless hefted over his shoulder. He turned to face one of the windows. His muscles tensed as he prepared to hurl the heavy thing.

"Greg."

Greg shrieked and dropped the fire extinguisher. It struck the floor with a shockingly loud clang and rolled away. Greg turned around and saw it. Her. 

Greg wasn't used to things looking down at him. At 6'2" he dwarfed most of the students and many of the teachers, even his coach, but the creature standing before him was a good head or two taller than him. She probably weighed a lot more than him, too. Her entire body was covered in thick, startlingly bright yellow fur that softened and lightened to near whiteness along her impressive bust and chest. Powerful, sinewy muscles could be seen beneath her pelt. Her arms ended in wide, paw-like hands tipped with sharp claws just barely protruding from their sheaths. While basically humanoid her legs bore a closer resemblance to those of a quadruped animal than a human; she stood on enlarged toes rather than her heels with her knees bent forward. Her head - its visage - while not exactly that of a wolf, was certainly lupine, featuring a short muzzle, leathery black nose, pointed, tufted ears and glowing green eyes. Curiously, she also sported a long flowing blonde mane. But most terrifying thing about the creature was how familiar she looked. 

"Greg," repeated the creature in a deep yet nonetheless feminine voice.

Greg opened his mouth and shut it. He looked behind his shoulder and back at the creature, taking a step back.

"Geez, Greg, would you fucking relax?" said the creature in a strained and somewhat, in truth, nervous tone. 

"Wha-wh-wh-...h-h-how...?" stuttered Greg, eyes wide, lips trembling.

The creature sighed. Loudly. She rubbed her fuzzy forehead. 

"Just...give me a second," she said. "I have to think. And don't you dare run off on me again," she added as Greg retreated another step.

Greg froze.

"Okay," she said, raising a paw, eyes shut. "Fuck Melinda."

"W-Wha-?" said Greg, dumbfounded.

"You're not in any danger, Greg," said the creature. "I'm still me. I'm not going to hurt you."

Greg swallowed. 

"I know how fucked up this looks. Believe me," she took a deep breath, her large, furry chest rising and deflating. "The short version is I'm a werewolf," she said. "Yes, werewolves are real. Yes, I turn into a wolf monster every full moon but no, I don't go Freddy Krueger and try to kill everyone when I do." She smirked. "Believe me, if I did you'd already be dead. I can actually change back and forth whenever I want but..." she squirmed uncomfortably "...Sometimes I, well, I just...lose control."

"Like, w-when we were making out?" blurted Greg.

The hallway was silent for a time. 

"Yes, like when we were making out," said the creature icily.

A thousand questions whirled around in Greg's mind.

"H-Have you always-"

"No, I haven't always been a werewolf," she sighed. She raised a paw. "Listen, babe, I'd love to explain everything but I'd rather not do it here. At school. Where anyone might look through the window and see an eight-foot tall wolf monster," she said in a sardonically sweet voice. 

"Oh, uh, yeah," muttered Greg.

"So why don't you head on back to your place and I'll meet you outside," she said. "I need to change." She paused. "Shit, my uniform's shredded," she growled. "Could you dial my phone for me? I need to call one of my galpals for a change of clothes and it's a pain in the ass to do it with these giant fingers."

* * *

Tyler rolled back on Greg's bed, cackling. He nearly fell off but managed to claw his way back to the center. Greg watched, amused, from his desk. The room was full of acrid smoke somewhat offset by a sweet, almost perfume-like scent wafting in the air. 

"Dude, seriously? She made you go back and dial her phone for her?" guffawed Tyler as though it were the funniest thing in the world.

Greg took a long toke, blew out the smoke, coughed a few times, and grinned.

"Yeah, totally," he croaked. "It was, like, that old episode of the Simpsons when like, Homer got too fat to dial the phone. Only, like, with werewolves. Maybe I should have told her to order a special dialing stick."

Tyler laughed and laughed. Greg leaned back in his chair and looked over at the air freshener plugged in the wall and then his bedroom door. A white dresser had been propped up against it.  

"Wha? You worried about your parents, brah?" inquired Tyler, noticing.

"Nah, they won't be back for five hours," said Greg dismissively, waving a hand. "Plenty of time to air out. 'Sides, I'm pretty sure my dad...indulges from time to time," he said. "He's cool."

"Pretty crazy, brah," snickered Tyler. "Maybe you should write it for English. Y'know, that short story assignment coming up."

"Uh, nah, Cynthia would lose her shit if I did."

"Why would she care," said Tyler, shrugging. "Only Mr. Macalester would read it."

"Yeah, but she made me promise not to tell anybody."

Tyler raised an eyebrow.

"What? Wait-wait-wait. Why would she...y'know? Why would you tell her about this weird-ass story?"

"'Cause she was there, remember?" snorted Greg.

"...There when you had the idea for the story?" said Tyler, cocking his head.

"No, dumbass, it actually happened. She's a werewolf. My girlfriend is a goddamn, motherfucking werewolf."

"Okay dude, whatever," said Tyler, rolling his eyes.

"No, dude, for real. It actually happened."

"Uh, maybe you should lay off the-"

"I'm not joking."

"Come on, man. I mean, it was weird when you start-"

"I'm not fucking joking," said Greg, rising. He put his joint on the dresser. "I mean, we talked for hours and hours afterwards and...there are all these rules and stuff she has to follow and...shit, dude, it's actually kinda hot."

"What, you into hairy girls now?" said Tyler, grinning.

"Well shit, dude, if you saw her..." he trailed off. He marched over to his window and peered up through the shades. The moon was full. He turned back to Tyler, who was looking up at him stupidly. Greg smiled slightly as an idea formed. 

"I'll bet you fifty...no, one-hundred bucks she's a werewolf," he said. 

"Huh?"

"It's a full moon. I'll call her up and tell her there's an emergency or something and she has to meet me in my backyard. We're right next to the fucking preserve so it's not like she far off."

"The preserve?"

"Yeah, dumbass, that's where she hangs out during the full moon," said Greg, already digging his cell phone from his pocket. He reached up to dial and then hesitated. Something was tugging at him from the back of his mind through the haze of THC. Was this really a good idea? 

"Yeah, this is a great idea!" he exclaimed, chuckling. "She'd totally be up for this. She's awesome like that."

* * *

Greg and Tyler sat slumped in the two lawn chairs gazing out at the woods beyond the wooden fence that surrounded Greg's backyard. Every so often one of them would take a slow drag on their joint. Greg had switched off most of the lights so it was very dark; the only source of illumination was a dim yellow light above the screen door. The sound of crickets and distant traffic hung in the air. 

"So, like, where is she?" asked Tyler, turning to Greg.

"I dunno, man," he said. "She said she'd be here in, like, ten minutes. Something about a deer or some shit."

The two were silent for a time.

"So, I've been thinking," said Tyler. 

"Yeah?" said Greg.

"You become a werewolf if you get bitten by one, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, what happens if you get fucked by a werewolf?"

Greg's eyes bulged. He started coughing and hacking.

"What are yo-" Greg coughed. "...What are you talking about, man?"

"I mean, it's all about blood, right? Wouldn't you catch werewolf just like an STD?"

"Don't look at me. I got a C- in biology," said Greg, who had finally recovered. He sat up and shot Tyler a dirty look.

"What? You said she explained how werewolves worked," said Tyler, returning his dirty look with a mocking one.

"It didn't come up," snapped Greg.

"Welp, maybe something to keep in mind for the future, eh?" said Tyler, grinning.

"It's not like you actually believe me," growled Greg. He leaned back in the chair and took another toke. He sat there for a few seconds, a scowl on his face. Unwanted thoughts percolated his mind.

"Do you think it would still count if we did it while she wa-" he began

There were three loud knocks. Both teens turned to the yard. Two glowing motes appeared above the wooden fence.

"What the...?" said Tyler, rising.

"There's my gal," said Greg, grinning. He got up off the lawn chair - nearly tumbling to the ground in the process - and waved. "I'll be right there!"

"Keep your voice down," growled a voice from the forest. It wasn't quite human.

"What the F..." hissed Tyler. 

Ignoring him, Greg jogged over to a door in the fence. He lifted the latch, opened it and stepped back. 

"What's this all about?" asked Cynthia wearily as she entered Greg's backyard, her long, fluffy tail swishing behind her as she walked.

Tyler goggled at the sight of the eight-foot tall walking blonde wolf with glowing eyes. Cynthia turned to face him and snarled. Tyler yelped.

"Greg!" she hissed out of the corner of her toothy maw. "Why is HE here? More importantly why did you let him see me?" She sniffed the air. "You two dillweeds are smoking pot, aren't you?"

"Tada!" exclaimed Greg, gesturing grandiosely at the disgruntled she-wolf. "Werewolf girlfriend! Pay up, sucka!"

"Pay up?" exclaimed Cynthia. Her glowing eyes flared in intensity. "You bet that little dipshit that I was a werewolf?" she snarled. "That's why you dragged me out here?"

Oblivious to her less-than-positive reaction, Greg hurried back to Tyler, who was slowly backing towards the house, trembling. Greg wrapped his arm around Tyler's shoulder.

"Naw, naw, man, don't worry," he slurred. "She's cool. She wouldn't hurt a fly."

Anyone looking at Cynthia at this point would have probably disagreed. Her hackles were raised, her lips had peeled back revealing rows of razor sharp teeth, and her eyes were burning like twin green suns.

"You...look a little pissed, Cynthia," said Greg, who then giggled. "T-Tell you what. I'll split the money with you - fiddy-fiddy." He looked at Tyler meaningfully. "Comeon, man, pay up. Hundred bucks."

Cynthia shut her eyes. Her paws curled into trembling fists. She started walking towards the two boys.

"Uh, Cynthia?" said Greg as she advanced.

"Dude, she looks pissed," whispered Tyler, giggling nervously.

"Hey, hold on there," said Greg, releasing Tyler. 

Cynthia just kept walking. Greg swore he saw steam coming out of her nostrils. Or maybe it was because it was a cold night. 

"W-Wait, Cynthia, I'm sorry, but-"

Cynthia was now mere feet away and didn't look like she was about to stop. Both boys cried out and cringed, shielding themselves. 

Cynthia strode right past them.

Greg slowly opened his eyes and looked up. Cynthia was opening his porch door.

"C-Cynthia?" he said nervously. "What...where are you-"

"I'm going up to your room," said Cynthia in a flat voice. "I'm going to find your stash, take it and chuck it in the fucking lake. And if I ever smell that shit on you again I'll toss you in the lake!"

"What? No!" protested Greg, horrified. "And...and I have like eighty dollar's worth up there!"

"Don't care."

"Y-You wouldn't be able to find it anyhow!" said Greg. 

"Uh, with this nose?" said Cynthia, tapping her leathery snout. "You bet your ass I will." She gave Tyler a look. "I'm going to have a little talk with your friend here afterwards. Don't go anywhere!"

With that, the enormous she-wolf stomped into the house and shut the screen door behind her. Greg stood there in silence, mouth agape. Tyler shuffled up to him.

"Uh, wow," he said, shaking her head. "Bitches, huh?"

Greg stared at him for a few seconds. Then, he burst into laughter. Tyler snickered and then started laughing as well. Their wild, almost manic laughter filled the yard.

"Okay, okay," said Greg, waving a hand. "We...we'd better dial it down. Don't want the neighbors getting all pissy." He cleared his throat. "And uh, when can I expect that money?" 

Tyler grinned foolishly and shrugged.

"Sorry, dude. I'm broke."