John Houlihan.net

“We’re animals man, nothing more than fucking animals, smart ones sure, but the beast’s skin tight cage can get stretched awfully thin.

“Don’t you ever want to go on the hunt? Run rampant, run with the pack, stalk through the shadowed night, howling at that moon, embracing the beast within?

“On the prowl, senses primed, child of the inner dark. Your blood surges as you catch the scent and muscle, bone and sinew answer. Pulse hammers, the chase is on, then the catch, the kill and you tear, rend and feed on the fallen, snout bloody and red.

“Content, belly full, a new scent emerges, one that whispers of heat, attraction, desire. You circle, teeth bared, wary, until the first bite, the taste, then you curl, writhe, go at it, fuck like animals. After, you curl up asleep in your lair, dozing uneasy dreams of your lost human self.”