Gwen, of course.

Gwen’s scent isn’t hard for you to pick out; it’s clean and floral amidst a tapestry of blood, musk, and stranger unnatural scents. You take off in a hurry, alternating between running on two legs and loping with your hands.

You smell her behind the bathroom door, bracing herself against it as two pale dead things hammer on it with your fist.

The first one doesn’t even have time to react as you lash out with your claws, nearly severing his head from his shoulders. The second one dodges with unnatural speed, evading as if he knows in advance where you’re about to swing.

You feel yourself becoming frustrated as he continues to dodge, landing powerful blows that would cripple a human. Your transformed body withstands them, but they are starting to add up.

One blow just misses your groin, and you feel your rage peak. Your eyes and mouth glow with hellfire. You roar, breathing out a massive cone of red flame.

The dead thing, believing he’s fighting a mere werewolf, is caught in the unexpected attack. He lets out an inhuman shriek as his flesh melts off his bones in seconds, his bones disintegrating into dust.

He breathe in and out, admiring your handiwork. After a few moments, Gwen emerges from the bathroom, the badly damaged door falling off its hinges in the process.

Gwen’s relief turns to terror as she looks at her rescuer. You tower over her, panting with anticipation. You’d started the night hoping for a little action, but things like consent and other social niceties no longer factor into your thought process. Black pre-cum is already dripping from the tip of your cock.

You’re still capable of language even if words feel like a tiresome distraction from your purpose: to fuck, corrupt and feed. Still, what’s left of your higher cognitive functions is amused by situation and wants her to know. You growl and snarl lustily at her as you try to form words with your slobbering, fanged snout. She recoils into a ball, guarding her

“Gwennnnn,” you rumble. “Youuuu. Kept. Me. Wait ... ing.”

Gwen lowers her arm a little, confused, eyes widening in horror as she seems to make the connection.

“Jack?” She whimpers, “Oh no, they got you too.”

“Not just ‘they.’ Me,” Tina steps forward into the light. “Your man is an incredible lay, Gwen. You’ll see.”

Gwen glares at Tina, disgust mixing with fear. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but you both need to snap out of ...”

She screams as you take a step forward.

“Please, don’t turn me into a wolf thing!” She begs.

Tina giggles, scratching your back above you tail like she would a dog. Her claws feel amazing against your hide.

“Oh Gwen, Jack is so much more than one of those mongrels,” Tina giggles. “He’s a hellhound. He carries inside him the seed of every demon in the host of hell. He could turn you into just about any hellspawn he feels like. That’s why we love these creatures so much. They’re annoyingly hard to create. So you understand if I’m a little protective of him.”

Tina puts her claw to her lip coquettishly. “I guess I could turn into a succubus but I’m not sure you deserve it after not putting out for Jackie boy.”

All this talking is driving you crazy, as is the scent of Gwen’s fear and well-hidden lust, no doubt a side effect of Tina’s presence.

“I think it’s up to Jack,” Tina grins.