He had thought that everything was back to normal after that freak animal attack a month ago. The doctors were happy with how his wounds were healing, and he'd made great progress with his therapist on getting back on the hiking trails - a former passion that had (somewhat understandably) lost its luster.

He'd thought it a good sign when the mood struck him - the desire for the great outdoors. Maybe desire was the wrong word, though. It felt more like a compulsion. He was in such a hurry to get out there that he almost forgot to put on his shoes. He left without so much as a water bottle or walking stick.

He was already entering the trail when he realized that the feeling had struck him quite late - the sun was descending over the horizon, and the other hikers were on their way out. He didn't care. All he knew was that he needed to be here. The idea that this was abnormal - perhaps even concerning - didn't even cross his mind as he began his hike. Just as he had before the attack, he picked a path on a whim and started walking.

His feet carried him forward as though of their own volition. It was a while before the thought even occurred to him to examine his own behavior. He had no water, no snacks. He'd left his phone on the bedside table, which meant no torch, and no podcast to listen to as he usually would. The trauma and fear from his attack had simply evaporated in the face of his desire to come here and brave woods that he knew from personal experience played host to animal attacks.

"I should turn around," he muttered to no one in particular. His feet did not respond to this thought, carrying him forward as though possessed.

"I should turn around," he said, louder this time, as though willing his feet to hear him. They did not.

"STOP!" He did not even realize he was shouting until he heard the echo of his own words in the empty woods around him. He was shaking, sweat was dripping down his face. But his feet had finally listened: he had stopped. He was standing perfectly still.

"A-alright," the pushed the word out of his mouth with effort. "N-now I just have to turn ar- OW!" His attention jerked to his hand as a sudden, sharp pain appeared in his fingertips. All five fingernails had shot forward, and formed themselves into sharp, curved claws. His thoughts went immediately to his phone, to calling for help, but it was no use - he'd left it at home in his zeal to come here.

He took a deep breath and screamed at the top of him lungs, "IS ANYBODY THERE? PLEASE HELP M--" the last word caught in his throat as he felt a pressure inside his neck. His eyes bulged as the air was cut off. He could feel something inside, moving like so many worms inside his body. Relief came and he sucked in air like a drowning man, but it was short-lived. Some invisible vice closed in around his head and a scream escaped his lips as his nose and mouth jutted forward. The cracking and popping of his skull as it reshaped itself almost drowned out his own scream. The crackling in his ears as they stretched into a long point and traveled up to the top of his head was the only thing he could hear until it stopped. He watched through eyes streaked with sweat and tears as his new muzzle consumed the center of his vision.

The red-hot pain in his face subsided, and he thought again to call for help. "R-rrrrrruff!" His new mouth could no longer form human speech, but he kept trying. "Ruff. Ruff! Rrrrr--AAAAAAAAARGH!" his pitiful barks became his first howl as his hands began to feel that vice-like grip. His palms were stretching out, his fingers shrinking and widening, his thumbs being drawn by that invisible force to his wrists.

His hands had barely finished forming into paws before he felt the tightening in his shoes, and felt the panic as he realized that he no longer had a way to untie them. He watched helplessly, still screaming for help in a language no potential savior would understand, as his lengthening feet were birthed out of ruined shoes. His ankles forced themselves off the ground, and in the shock of the moment, he fell forward, catching himself on his new paws.

As if taking advantage of his vulnerability, his shoulders popped, and something in his waist rotated forward, locking him onto all fours. His body continued to grow, straining against clothes he no longer had the dexterity to remove. His shirt split down the middle as his chest swelled, and he wriggled out of the uncomfortably-tight remains. As muscle built down his legs, he was finally free of the remains of his pants.

Like a coiled spring, his spine shot out and lengthened. He turned to see his now-canine lower half ended in a tall, a sensation that made no sense to his overwhelmed brain.

Even with his entire body fully changed, he was still not allowed relief. A stinging pain, like his skin being pierced by thousands of tiny needles, overtook his entire body. Within moments, he was covered in a thick layer of fur. He turned around to see the source of all this - the full moon poking through the branches. He'd thought himself free of the trauma of the animal attack, but now he'd have something new to discuss with his therapist.

As the pain finally subsided alongside his howling, he felt something else. No longer the physical pain, he felt as though something was smothering his consciousness. There was a familiarity to it. Another consciousness, alongside him in his head. He realized that it was this voice, not his own, that had felt the compulsion to come out here. It had wanted to be in its natural habitat, he realized, when it took over completely.

As the wolf consumed his mind, he felt a hunger like none he'd ever felt, and he fought feebly for control - to not put another innocent late-hiking dumbass through what he just went through. But it was in vain. The wolf had arrived to hunt, and as his consciousness slipped away, he could feel it would not be discouraged.

A howl was unleashed, but this one was not of pain. It was a warning to the wolf's next victim.

*****

I'll be honest, I didn't expect to write anything alongside this. I got a new phone - one of the ones with the little stylus stored inside - and downloaded Infinite Painter, a really cool paid app kind of like Procreate. I wanted to draw something, and since I'm a simple enby, the first thing I could think to draw was yet another victim having his wardrobe ruined as he realizes that monster attack was not, in fact, a regular animal attack. I had meant to write a short description, and the mood of the piece inspired the above diatribe. I hope you enjoy both - a lot of work went into this.