Loup Garou

by Erotickynk


We weren’t allowed to go out after dark on nights with a full moon. I did once and I wish I hadn’t. I wish I never knew what was going to happen to me before it did. It caused me so much anxiety wondering when or if it would happen, but once it really did start ... well, it ends okay.

As children we were told it was a Goldbridge tradition for families to spend evenings together during the full moon. Sometimes families would invite a neighbour family over for the evening, the visitors not going home until the full moon set on the western horizon. Those were fun nights when I was little - staying up late, playing games and telling stories - but now that I know the truth ... well, there’s no point in ruining good memories.

It was the history project I turned in late last winter that I am paying for right now. Girls in this town have been enduring what I am enduring for over a hundred years. It hurts a lot, but I’m getting used to it and I’m feeling some euphoria from the endorphins now, so it’s not so bad I guess. I remember the film of the little gazelle being eaten alive by the hyenas ... that’s me now. Oh god, that’s me.

But yeah ... it’s not so bad, really.

My name is Kate. Katie to some of my friends. Katherine to my adopted mom and dad when they’re mad at me. I live - at least for about four or five more minutes - in Goldbridge, Ontario. It’s a rich mining town off highway 599 near Saint Raphael Provincial Park.

Goldbridge is a remote town, but the gold mine just outside of town makes it a really wealthy one; big houses and estates; the best schools I have ever seen; our own movie theatre; a cute downtown with lots of shops; all the best for the rich families of Goldbridge. Even the miners and mechanics and administrative people at the mine earn big money and have nice houses. All told about a hundred and fifty thousand of us live here.

Most of the things we need come via the Great Lakes through Thunder Bay and are shipped up the highway which makes everything expensive. But it doesn’t matter, there’s plenty of money.

The Goldbridge mine is a hard rock mine, which means the miners have to blast holes through the mountain to follow the gold seam. I toured it once when I was in grade nine and they showed us the seam. We rode down a huge elevator then walked underground through a maze of mine shafts until we got to a place where we could see the gold; it looked like a thick rope of deep yellow gold that wound through the rock - they called it string gold because if you got a good grip on it you could pull it out of the rockface. I got to hold some of it and was amazed how heavy it was.

But Goldbridge isn’t what it seems.

One of Goldbridge’s claims to fame - other than the seemingly endless riches in the mine - is that it has the highest percentage of adopted children in North America. The town calls the program; “Share The Wealth, Share The Family”. The thing is, almost all the adopted kids are girls. I didn’t start noticing that until last year, and I didn’t know then that a crazy high percentage of those ran away and were never heard from again.

Every gone girl had a story about her; she got pregnant; she was doing drugs and ran away; her birth mother found her and the court took her back, and occasionally, when they couldn’t come up with any bullshit; she just disappeared.

Last winter we had to write an essay on something in Canadian history, so I chose Goldbridge. The problem was I couldn’t find much in our public or school libraries; just the usual thin books on the town and the mine that looked more like tourist brochures than history books. I even looked at the microfiches of old issues of The Gold Standard - our local newspaper. I knew the town was founded in 1890 and the newspaper started up in 1895, but the early records were rare until 1917. The librarian said they’d burned up in a fire back in 1920. But if the fire burned them up in 1920, why didn’t they all burn?

When the family decided to do an overnight to Thunder Bay to do some Christmas shopping, I took advantage of that and visited the public library there. That’s when I found about the legend of the Loup Garou and all the trouble started.

Not that I didn’t have trouble before that. Even though my adopted mom and dad told me they loved me a lot and I got lots of hugs from them and my adopted sister, Marcie, my adopted brother Mitchell never got close to me and ignored me most of the time.

But one way he didn’t ignore me was on nights after everyone else was asleep and he’d come creeping into my bedroom and sliding into my bed. At first it was just him pulling down my pajama bottoms and fingering me, then masturbating and shooting his load between the cheeks of my bare bum. But as I got older he would fuck me from behind, sometimes in my pussy, sometimes in my bum. The pussy fucking stopped after I got my first period, because he said he didn’t want to get me pregnant.

But after every time he did it, he’d tell me not to tell or he would blame me and mom and dad would believe him and send me back to foster care.

When he turned sixteen and got to drive the old truck, Mitchell started taking me up to the abandoned buildings of the old mine. I was old enough then to tell him I’d fight him if I didn’t get any pleasure out of it, so if I didn’t cum first, I would help him cum. From then on he’d always start by stripping me naked and finger fucking me hard until I came. He’d curl two fingers inside me and pump so hard it almost lifted me off my feet, and he’s done it so often over the years that my pussy is stretched and loose, but holy fuck; he’d work me so hard my legs would go all weak and quivery and give out when I came.

I asked him once as we drove back down the mountain if he had any feelings for me.

“I like to have sex with you.” he said.

“No, I mean ... like ... do you love me? Even a little?” I asked, because I thought I loved him.

“No.” he said, then thought about it, “I can’t let myself love you. The adopted girls end up gone.”

“I won’t.” I said, being hopeful.

“Yes you will.” he said, “You all do. So it’s not going to happen, Katie.”

That broke my heart. I still went up to the old mine with him after school two or three times a week, but it always made me sad afterward.

Up on the mountain while I was still cumming from Mitchel finger fucking me savagely, he’d ease me down to squat on shaky legs and suck his cock and swallow his cum, even when I begged him that I needed time to catch my breath. As we did this more and more, he would fuck my throat instead, making me gag and heave. I didn’t mind it though, I like the quivery feeling in my stomach that his cock makes sliding up and down my throat, making me heave and gag. I even sick up sometimes and I like that too. I looked it up - it’s called emetophilia and it’s when sicking up feels sexual and so good.

Anyway, I wrote my paper about the birth of Goldbridge and the early “troubles”. That’s what the old timers called the Loup Garou - “the troubles”. At first they thought it was wolves killing the miners, but after awhile someone figured out that the savage killings only happened during the full moon. Then in 1915, a family awoke one night to screams and caught a Loup Garou eating their daughter.

It wasn’t furry like Hollywood portrays werewolves, it had a long snout and sharp teeth, claws, but had human skin with excess hair. I looked up the “Share The Wealth, Share The Family” program and it started in 1915. War orphans were adopted and started to disappear.

That was the beginning.

I wrote my paper as though it was an early legend intermingled with the town history and totally got shit for it. It was rejected and I had to write another one on a “real” history. Not only that, my adopted mom and dad were called in to meet the Principal and the school psychologist. They talked about me like I wasn’t even there and said they were going to keep an eye on me to see if I “exhibited any further psychosis”. It wasn’t psychosis, I knew what I read, but they said it was a figment of my imagination and they guessed it might be from early childhood trauma from before I was adopted.

It was like a propaganda play was going on around me and my parents were playing their parts. They nodded sadly and my mom held my hand when the psychologist talked about suppressed early childhood trauma that he suspected happened when I was in foster care. I wanted to scream at them and tell them about their son who got off on fingering little girls’ bums and cumming on them in the middle of the night.

I was given a prescription for Seroquel which I only took once and hated it, so I palmed it and flushed it down the toilet from then on. There wasn’t anything wrong with me, I’d just uncovered the tip of a dark secret and I wondered how many people were in on it.

I suspected I knew what happened to the gone girls and started to imagine horrible things. Girls taken out of their homes by force and tied up in the woods on full moon nights while the entire town had family time and were locked in their safe houses.

I thought about running away, hitchhiking down to Thunder Bay and finding somewhere else to live. But I saw the flaw in the plan right away; if what I suspected was true, anyone leaving Goldbridge would know what I was up to and take me home.

I thought about calling the Ministry of Children and Youth Services, but no matter what, I couldn’t see a way that anyone there would believe me, and they would probably call my mom and dad.

I ended up just living with the anxiety, day by day, hoping I’d be one of the lucky girls who didn’t get gone. But I had a plan; I got my hand on a hunting knife and hid it under my mattress - if they came for me I would give them a fight.

My theories flew out the window last full moon. Mom had invited the Kellys over for Family Night. They were our neighbours two doors down. I was friends with Blaire, their adopted daughter, and I was disappointed that they arrived without her. Blaire wasn’t one of my besties, but she was one of the friends that I confided in about my research on the Loup Garou and the gone girls.

Blaire had got into it when I was telling her, but laughed at the end, treating it like a summer camp ghost story. But I began to feel alarmed that she wasn’t at our house on Family Night. Blaire’s mom said Blaire decided to go over the Cindi’s house that night to work on a school project, but I knew that was bullshit. I’d talked to Blaire at school that day, and she was looking forward to coming over, plus I was her partner on the only school project we had on the go that week.

I begged off playing the board games by pretending to have a bad headache and going to bed early. Instead, I stuffed my body pillow in my bed and covered it up to make it look like was sleeping, then silently opened my window and climbing out into the twilight.

I went down the alley and came into Blaire’s yard through the back. The house was dark and still. I tapped on her bedroom window and didn’t get a response, but I thought I heard a thump and a faint sob from inside.

The back door was locked, so I walked around to the front of the house. It was eerie that the whole town was quiet, and though lights were on in most houses, no one but me was on the street.

I saw that the front door was wide open and as I walked up the sidewalk I saw that wild Fox Glove flowers lined it on either side. As I neared, I saw that the front door was actually missing. I leaned in through the open doorway, scanning the living room and hallway.

“Hello?” I called softly, hearing the tremor in my voice.

As I crept through the house toward Blaire’s bedroom I head a growly, snuffling sound coming from the open basement door. I felt a rush of fear when I saw the door was damaged - splintered on the edge. As silent as I could I tip-toed down the stairs and saw that a hallway light was on.

Then I heard the soft growling and wet sounds coming from the storage room. It felt like an hour passed as I quietly entered the storage room and walked inside but it was only a few seconds.

Blaire was laying on her back on the floor beside some shelves. She was staring up at the ceiling and just breathing. Two more steps deeper into the room and I saw it - the Loup Garou. He was muscular, almost human but his skin was laced with sparse hair, and he was feeding on Blaire - his muzzle buried in her shredded belly. I could hear him chewing and ripping her flesh, I could hear her breathing.

I was transfixed, frozen in place. My friend was being eaten alive. The legend of Loup Garou was real - Goldbridge adopted girls to give to this beast.

As I started to back out of the room, I heard him snuffling, then he moved his head, licking and growling, his snout still deep in her belly. He bit down again and Blaire sicked up, not vomiting, but gagging and choking on fluid that gushed up from her stomach to splatter on her face and the floor. I caught the smell of spices as the he continued to feed on Blaire’s insides.

I couldn’t help her - how could I stop that thing from eating her without getting myself killed? And her sicking up, I knew that her insides were so damaged that even a doctor couldn’t save her if she lived long enough for the Loup Garou to finish with her.

I carefully crept up the stairs and out of the house.

I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept seeing Blaire lying so still as the Loup Garou ate her insides. From the angle of his muzzle I guessed he was eating her liver. I didn’t know why she wasn’t screaming, then I remembered a video we watched in biology, how a pack of hyenas brought down a gazelle. At first the gazelle fought. kicking and trying to get up to run away, but once her belly was ripped open and her guts were hanging down, she just went limp as they buried their muzzles into her open belly and chewed and fed on her internal organs. I could tell she was still alive because she was breathing, but she just stared into space as more and more of her was devoured. Our teacher said that the mind will only allow so much pain. She said the gazelle was feeling a rush of endorphins which block all pain and put the her into a state of bliss.

Is that what Blaire was feeling? A state of bliss?

It was three days later that the Kellys reported Blaire missing. The town cops said they had a witness who saw Blaire hitchhiking down the highway toward Thunder Bay and that they had found a meth pipe in her bedroom. She was another poor adopted girl who got involved in drugs and ran away.

It was bullshit, but it scared me because even the cops were in on it.

I lived in fear for the next three full moons and was relieved when we all sat down for family time. Our front door stayed closed and locked those nights and no Foxglove flowers decorated our front walk.

I knew that some adopted girls survived. I knew of three who graduated and went away to Lakehead University in Thunder Bay. I knew they survived because they would come back during breaks to visit, and logically why would families spend all that money to educate them if they were just going to be given to the Loup Garou?

This full moon, my mom said we were going to celebrate Mitchel’s upcoming graduation, and after dinner we were going to the Campbell’s for family night to sing karaoke. It sounded pretty good to me, because it meant I was going to survive another full moon.

Mom made a lamb roast and I could smell it cooking from my room. I could smell the spices and they were kind of familiar, but I couldn’t place them. At dinner, I asked mom what spices she used and she said cumin, cloves, and cinnamon. It was a recipe she heard about and wanted to try.

As we ate, the family seemed happy so I was happy. Mom kept dishing out more lamb and told us we might as well eat it all because it didn’t taste as good as leftovers. It was near the end of dinner that I started feeling whoozy.

I was dizzy and started to feel so sleepy. Mom noticed and reached for my hand.

“Are you okay, Katie?” she asked, but she was looking at dad.

“...’m dizzy ...” I muttered.

I felt a tinge of fear as everyone stopped eating and put down their forks, all their eyes on me. I saw a tear slip down Marcie’s cheek.

“Maybe you should lay down, honey.” dad said.

“Yes.” said mom, rising and coming around behind me, “Let’s get you up and in bed.”

“... mom?” I was slurring my words. The room started to go all topsy-turvy as my mom took hold of my right arm and tried to help me up. My legs were weak and wobbly.

“Give me a hand, Mitchel.” she said, and Mitchel came around the table and took my left arm and they lifted me half out of my chair.

Dad got up and told Marcie he needed her help and they went toward the front door. Mom and Mitchel had got me out of my chair and were struggling to keep me standing.

“It hit her hard.” mom said.

“Yeah.” Mitchel said with a laugh, “She’s high as fuck.”

“Mitchel!”

Even though my vision was blurry, I watched dad and Marcie carrying the front door through the living room. That’s when I pissed myself.

“... mommy ... please ...” I wailed weakly.

“It’s okay, baby. We’ll get you cleaned up.” and they looped my arms over their shoulders and carried me to the bathroom as piss streamed down my thighs.

Things became a blur. I found myself slumped on the toilet as mom pulled my top off.

“Pull off her socks.” mom said.

“It's gross. Get Marcie to help you.” Mitchel complained.

“For fuck sakes, Mitchel. You’ve been fucking her for years. Help your sister.”

Then I was in the shower, my mom washing the piss from my crotch and legs with the spray wand. The last thing I remember is sliding down the wall, crumpling on the floor of the shower, and hoping I was dying as the world went dark.

The sun was setting when I woke up. I was in bed on top of the covers. Mom and Mitchel had dressed me in my white top and grey underpants.

I still felt whoozy, but I managed to sit up. My bedroom door was open and I could see that the lights were on in the house.

“Mom?” I called out, unsteady and weaving as I sat on the edge of my bed.

The house was silent.

“No-no-no-no-no ...” I whispered to myself. I slid off my bed to my knees and reached between the mattresses to where my hunting knife was.

It was gone.

Fear danced up my thighs and body like little tingling fingers making me go all shiver-bumps. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was just sick and was getting better after my little sleep. Maybe they were waiting for me over at the Campbell’s.

I stood up on shaky legs and tip-toed out of my bedroom, holding my breath and listening. The house remained silent. I crept down the hallway to the living room and could feel a draft. Then I remembered ...

I peered around the corner and saw that the front door was missing and from the little I could see, our front walk was edged with Fox Glove flowers. I couldn’t help it, I started to cry and my vision blurred with tears.

It was my turn with the Loup Garou.

But I was still alive, so the Loup Garou mustn’t be there yet. I couldn’t put the front door back on by myself even if I could find where they put it, but I could run away and hide. I stepped past the corner into the living room, meaning to run out the door, and that’s when I heard the low growl.

He was crouched in the corner of the room between the easy chair and the bookcase. His body was muscular and dusted with long strands of hair. His face was sort of human, but with a lengthened muzzle and pointed ears, tipped with tufts of hair. His fingers were long and instead of fingernails he had claws. His flaccid penis and testicles hung from between his muscular thighs.

It was his eyes that were the most frightening; they were yellow and bright and he was staring at me as he growled. I could see him flexing his muscles, digging his toes into the carpet as he got ready to come at me, and as he did, his penis swelled and lifted and grew rigid. His desire to eat me was arousing for him.

I felt frozen - paralyzed. I was sobbing. What the fuck was he waiting for?

He sniffed the air and growled louder, his face contorting. Then his rigid, curved penis jerked and pulsed and jetted wads of pearly white cum over the carpet. He had smelt me and my scent had made him cum.

When he ran at me it was on all fours and he moved so fast that he was a blur. I managed to scream “NO!” before he slammed me hard and drove me to the floor, his weight suddenly on top of me. I gasped as he gripped me tight with one hand on my crotch, his clawed fingers pushing the fabric of my underpants into me, gripping me like a bowling ball. Then his mouth was wide open and he sunk his teeth into my belly and bit down, ripping my shirt, gripping my belly. He pulled upward, stretching my skin and abdominal muscles making me feel a strong suction inside my belly. Then I felt the impossible - my skin and muscles shredded in his teeth and I was ripped open.

It feels like he has been eating me for hours, but I know only a few moments have passed. The sharp pains faded quickly to a dull bruised feeling, and even that is fading. I’m feeling a euphoria now - light and blissful - I’m very aware of his clawed fingers gripping me between my flaccid thighs. His muzzle is deep inside me, ripping, chewing, and swallowing my flesh. He went right for my liver and by the sound of his low throaty growls, he’s enjoying it.

The impossibility of all this keeps slamming into my consciousness; he is feeding on my flesh. But the euphoria of my endorphins dulls the edge of the insanity just like it dulls the pain. I remember the gazelle, staring at nothing as it was being eaten alive by the hyenas. I remember Blaire lying still and just breathing when it was her turn. Now it’s me.

I should be fighting him, but he is so strong and I am so weak. Plus, I don’t care anymore.

I just don’t care.

When I came out of my bedroom I was feeling cold and shivery - some from fear, but mostly because the missing front door was letting in the descending cold mountain air. But now - along with my growing euphoria - I’m feeling warm, almost feverish.

As the Loup Garou roots around my belly to bite and chew and swallow all of my liver, his muzzle nudges my stomach. I burp, tasting and smelling the roast lamb and the spices my mom used on it. The memory of Blaire gently comes to my mind - how the Loup Garou was sniffing then bit down on her stomach, squeezing her vomit up her throat as I was backing out of the storage room. I remember the smell of that - the smell I now recognize as roasted lamb flavoured with cumin, cloves, and cinnamon.

Like the Fox Glove flowers, that lamb recipe was another way of attracting the Loup Garou - it was an olfactory signpost that said; ‘here she is ... here is your dinner”. I recall him sniffing my scent and getting an erection and having an orgasm, spurting long ropes of cum all over the carpet. I wish he had fucked me instead, or at least before he started devouring me ... I realize I am getting fuzzy, having odd thoughts like being fucked violently by the Loup Garou and being filled with his powerful jets of cum. That would have been better.

Distantly, I feel sexual arousal building like an internal pressure in my lower belly. Am I going to cum? His clawed fingers inside me are helping along with a huge endorphin release that seems to be getting stronger.

Oh, please let me cum.

My mind harkens back to all the times Mitchel finger fucked me so brutally until I had massive orgasms that turned my legs to jelly and those orgasms being extended as he lowered me to a squat and throat fucked me, making my stomach quivery and convulse - and yeah, that felt just like an orgasm, especially when it made me sick up.

I feel the Loup Garou rip the last morsel of my liver loose and swallow it. He is snuffling now, his nose working inside my open belly. I feel his long tongue lick my lamb-bloated stomach, caressing its roundness, making it tighten sweetly. I feel his teeth gently slide over its surface, both under it and over it, as he takes it into his mouth, making it tighten more and becoming a hard ball of flesh.

Oh gawd, he’s going to do it!

The Loup Garou slowly closes his jaws around my tightened stomach, his teeth puncturing the tender flesh, his tongue licking. I feel the vomit rising quickly up my gullet and just like that I’m cumming. It’s a long, squirmy orgasm - not as powerful as the one’s Mitchel gave me, but still oh-so-sweet and wonderful.

I am drowning and cumming. The liquid gurgling in my throat and mouth as he chews and pulls and keeps me pinned to the floor with his strong iron grip on my crotch. I hope Blaire felt this at the end. I hope all the girls in the past felt it, and all the girls in the future feel it in their last moments.

He is chewing my convulsing stomach for the lamb inside it and it feels similar to having my liver eaten, but Mitchel trained me to enjoy sicking up around his cock and it feels a little like that but more intense.

Suddenly he sucks and I feel the fluid in my mouth and throat rush back down. It’s like he is nursing, sucking and swallowing the half digested food in my belly. He sucks and swallows until he draws air and it feels like a reverse burp to me and makes me gag and gasp.

He pulls his snout from my open belly and releases my crotch and suddenly he is gone. I hear him scramble out of the house, his claws scraping against the sidewalk as his sound fades, and I am left quivering and feeling hollow and used up. My pussy feels empty without his fingers in me, and my belly feels wounded and fragile.

My orgasm is faint now, but still trembles inside me. I still feel that inner, feverish heat, but a creeping numbness slowly spreads inward from my extremities like a towel slowly soaking up water. The muscles I use to breathe are disconnected, funny that I didn’t notice that until now. I can draw some air into my lungs if I struggle at it, but not enough - I realize - to keep me alive. And why bother? I am used up. I fed the Loup Garou so my worth is gone.

I lay and stare up at the ceiling, waiting to die. My body is twitching on its own, I no longer even try to breathe.

Memories fade in and out ... fun times on full moon nights before I knew the truth ... masturbating during Mitchel’s early night visits with as he made the crease of my bum slick with cum ... Mitchel violently fingering me ... gagging and sicking up on his cock ... the intimacy of the Loup Garou’s muzzle so deep in my belly ... feasting ... and with each, comes small phantom physical sensations of pleasure.

It comes on so swiftly in the end, like falling backward into warm water ... dizzy ... blind ... numbing fast ...

Oh my ...