THE MARK OF THE WOLF
By Raven

     Dale thought it was a good idea to get away for a vacation on his own.  
After leafing through many travel brochures, and listening to hundreds of 
suggestions from his friends, he had decided to take a trip to Scotland.  He 
heard that it was really beautiful there, and besides, they spoke English. It 
was a form of English anyway!

     Early on, he narrowed his choices to Australia, South Africa, New 
Zealand, Ireland, England, or Scotland.  They were all English speaking 
countries.  Dale decided that if he was going to spend money, it might as well 
be in a country where he at least had a shot at understanding everyone.  For 
one reason or another, the choices narrowed themselves further, until only 
Scotland was left.  That was okay, however, because Dale considered 
Scotland to be the most mysterious of all of the choices.  You almost never 
hear anything about Scotland.

     Scotland had a history of Celtic rituals, druids, moors, and even Loch 
Ness.  What could be better for an adventure?

     Dale thought about all of that as he drove along one of the old beaten roads 
nears the moors in rural Scotland.  He had been here for five days, and had 
another two days to go on his vacation. Everything was a beautiful, and as 
interesting as advertised.  Dale had seen many things, including Loch Ness.  
Although it gave him a "creepy" feeling, he didn't see anything.  The only 
thing that he couldn't get used to was driving on the wrong side of the road, 
as well as the wrong side of the car!

     It was late in the evening.  The sun had not yet set, but the shadows on the 
moors were starting to get long.  Dale had been driving for the better part of 
the day, stopping only for gas or directions.  He still had a long way to go 
before he could stop for the night.  However, the persistent rumbling in his 
stomach reminded him that he had not eaten all day.

     On the road up ahead Dale spied a little inn, or pub as they called them in 
Scotland.  He thought that there wouldn't be any harm in stopping off for a 
bite to eat, and a pint of ale.  It would be okay if he got to his hotel a little 
late.  He closed the distance between himself, and the pub in a short period of 
time.

     The pub had a very unusual, if colorful name, "The Bucket of Blood."  
Dale shook his head in disbelief as he looked at the sign.  He shrugged his 
shoulders, walking through the outer doors into the interior of the pub.  Like 
all pubs that he had encountered on this trip, the room was smoky.  It seemed 
like all of the Europeans loved to smoke!  Fortunately, this pub wasn't as 
crowded, and as smoky as others he had been to.

     Dale found a seat in the corner.  He surveyed his surroundings.  At one 
table there were two older men playing what appeared to be a game of chess.  
They were smoking, of course.  There were various onlookers to the game.  
At the bar there were about seven people of mixed gender and age. On the far 
wall there was a dart board, where several younger men were enjoying a 
game of darts. Dale couldn't get over how this country went nuts over the 
game of darts.  It was a  sport' that he was never really that good at.

     Behind the bar was a portly man sporting a beard and mustache.  Dale 
thought to himself that the man looked rather jolly with his ruddy complexion 
and hair.  There was a waitress behind the bar also that was the same 
approximate age as the bartender.  Dale wondered if the bartender and 
waitress were man and wife?  It wasn't unusual to see family run places, 
such as this pub, in these parts.

     The last person he saw was a very pretty young girl in the corner.  She 
was very small, or as the say in Scotland, "A wee slip of a woman."  Not 
only pretty, she was down right beautiful!  From his vantage point, Dale 
could see that she had waist length, flame red hair; a petite figure; and very 
generous firm breasts.  Dale's stare lingered on her as he decided, there and 
then, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

     All of the people in the pub shared one common trait.  They all stared at 
him as he walked in, and sat in his corner table.  That made Dale feel even 
more of an outsider.  They all continued to stare at him as the waitress came 
over to his table.

     Rather than greet him, or take his order, she exclaimed, "Ye should nae be 
here lad!  Ye nae be from these here parts.  Tis very dangerous."

     Although it was hard to understand her thick Scottish accent, Dale 
understood the gist of her message.  He was not welcome here.  "Look," he 
started.  "I'm just a tourist on my way to my hotel. I haven't eaten anything 
today, and I saw your pub.  I just want to order some food, and I'll be on my 
way....."

     The waitress interrupted him by saying, "We nae have any food ere, lad.  
Be gone with ye!"

     Dale was stunned, and just a little miffed at their inhospitable attitude.  He 
was about to vocalize his outrage when he heard a sweet musical voice from 
his right.  "A shame on ye Sarah!  The lad's clearly hungry.  Go get  im some 
food...."

     It was the pretty redhead. Her accent wasn't as thick as the waitress'.  
Dale watched as Sarah, the waitress, seemed to shy away from the girl, as if 
she were afraid of her somehow.  Sarah even had a look of apprehension in 
her eyes.  As the waitress backed away, all that she could respond was, 
"Aye!"

     Dale reflected for a second on what he just saw.  It was incredible.  This 
young little woman had just gotten a much bigger, and meaner looking 
woman to back down.  He wondered what type of hold this beauty had over 
her?

     The girl scanned over the rest of the room, who were watching all of this, 
saying in an icier tone of voice, ".......and the rest of ye.  Go back to wha' 
ye were doin'.  Leave the lad alone."  Instantly, they all did as they were told.

     It was obvious to Dale that, despite her tender years, this girl held some 
position of power around these parts.  He couldn't help to wonder exactly 
what it was?

     "Thank you very much," he said to the girl.  She couldn't have been over 
5' tall.  As she stood beside his table, Dale could not but help to admire her 
large breasts, which were now at about his eye level.

     "Ach!  Ye are quite welcome.  Me family can be quite rude to strangers, ye 
know?  Don't pay them nae mind," she replied, causing Dale to shift his stare 
from her chest to her face.  Up close, her face was even more breathtaking.  
On top of it all she had iridescent green eyes that almost seemed to glow with 
life.

     Dale invited her to join him at the table.  She happily accepted the 
generous offer of the traveler.  Dale introduced himself to her, after which, 
she returned the gesture.

     "My name be Siobhan Scott.  This here is my cousin's place.  I live at a 
little place out in the moors."

     Dale asked, "Have you lived here your entire life?"

     "Aye, Dale.  This be the ancestral  ome of the Scott Clan.  I've nae been 
anywhere's but here. Tis all right though.  Me family makes sure I got 
everything I need."

     "I noticed that.  They seem to do everything that you tell them what to 
do."

     "That sure n' enough be the truth.  I be the Scott heir.  Tis my family, so's 
they got to do what I say.  In exchange, I can't leave the place.  I'm the 
designated protector of the family, you see."

     Dale didn't see.  He couldn't understand how such a small woman could 
protect anyone, or anything.  Still, the rest of the populace appeared to 
respect her position.  It really didn't much matter to him as long as it got him 
a warm meal, and a pint of ale!

     Without warning Siobhan yelled out, "Ach!  Sarah, are ye daft woman?  
The lad's waitin' for is food......"  Siobhan turned to Dale, saying, "Ye wait 
right  ere.  I be back with ye food in two shakes of a wolf's tale."

     As she got up to retrieve his meal, Dale thought to himself, "Interesting 
turn of a phrase!"  Still Dale was quite taken with this lass.  Her sweet voice, 
and slight accent were almost musical............. enchanting.

     No sooner than Siobhan had disappeared out of sight, than one of the 
younger darts players rushed over to him, whispering in his ear, "Beware her 
stranger.  She bears the  mark'............."
 
     The young dart player could not finish his message.  Siobhan appeared 
suddenly from the kitchen with her arms full of hot, steaming food.  Her 
sudden appearance prompted the lad to quickly shuffle back to the dart area.

     Dale didn't pay much attention to what the lad had tried to tell him 
anyway.  He simply thought his reference to the  mark' as a reference to her 
position as heir of the Scott Clan.  He thought he was just being warned 
away from the  head' and protector of their family.

     "Aye Dale!  Ye see?  Plenty of good food to eat at  The Bucket of Blood'," 
said Siobhan.  She sat the food down on the table, encouraging Dale to dig 
in.  Dale was only too happy to do so.  He was famished.

     As Dale ate, he had the most pleasant conversation with Siobhan.  She 
seemed to take a great interest in America, as well as other places Dale had 
been.  She seemed to be fascinated with anything other than where she was 
right now.  The more he spoke to her, the more he was attracted to her.  He 
wondered what she thought of him?

     Dale hadn't been with a woman for some time.  He kind of wanted to 
make love to a Scottish woman, as he had heard they were very warm and 
loving.  Siobhan was certainly making him feel very welcome.

     Eventually the conversation turned toward the name of the pub itself.  Dale 
couldn't get the question of the source of its name out of his head.  He asked 
Siobhan how the place got its name.

     Siobhan raised one eyebrow, suspiciously.  "Ah.  Tis an old Scott legend  
round these parts. Tis said werewolves used to roam the moors, protecting 
the Scott Clan from the English invaders.  The Bucket of Blood tis the 
entrails of the English ripped from  stem t' stern' by the werewolves."

     Dale laughed, "Ha!  Are you serious?"

     "Aye, Dale.  Tis the legend!"

     "Everyone knows there is no such things as werewolves," Dale 
commented in between bites.

     Siobhan laid her hand upon Dale's, simply nodding.  Dale felt an erection 
begin to grow in his pants at her touch.  He wanted to get back on the road, 
and get to his hotel, but he just couldn't bear to tear himself away from her.

     Dale and Siobhan sat and talked for hours.  He had quite a few pints of ale 
under his belt.  At the end of these few hours, Dale was in no condition to 
drive the rest of the way to his hotel.  Still, he got up to gather his things, 
beginning to get ready to make his way toward his car.

     Siobhan had a concerned look on her face.  "Ye nae be thinking of driving 
the rest of the way tonight do ye?  Tis quite late, and ye nae be in any 
condition to be drivin'."

     Dale steadied himself as best he could.  "It'll be okay.  I've driven with 
alcohol in my system many times.  It's not unusual at all in America."

     Siobhan took Dale's face in her hands, pulling it down to her so that they 
were eye to eye.  She kissed him deeply, with an open mouth on his lips.  
Dale responded kissing her back.  The erection grew again in his past, bigger 
than before.

     She cooed, "I thought ye may stay with me t'nite at me place!"

     Dale could take a hint.  This wasn't even a hint.  It was a direct invitation.  
It seemed like his fantasy was about to come true.  "S-sure!" he stuttered.

     Dale didn't notice the rest of the Scott Clan in the pub sadly shaking their 
heads.

     Siobhan took the car keys from Dale's hand, and took his other hand into 
hers, leading him out of  The Bucket of Blood'.  She poured him into the 
passenger side of the vehicle.  "I be drivin' the rest of the way to me 
place....."

     Dale did not protest.  Instead his mind was filled with images of what he 
was going to do to Siobhan.

     She drove the rest of the way to her place.  It was a modest stone house 
set back into the shadows of the moors.  By the time they got to her place, it 
was late, dark, and very, very foggy.  In fact, the fog was so thick, that you 
could barely see three feet in front of you.

     Siobhan helped Dale into her house, guiding him into the living room.  
Once there, she sat him down on the couch, as she set about making a fire in 
the broad fireplace.  As she went about making the fire, Dale scanned the 
room in order to familiarize himself with his surroundings.

     Scattered throughout the room were odd statues, pictures, and totems on 
the walls.  It looked more like items that you would see in a museum, rather 
than as decorations of a house.  Dale was curious.  "Siobhan?  Where did 
you get all of these things?  What are they?"

     She looked up from where she was making a fire, to answer, "They be me 
family heirlooms. The Scott family be directly descended from Celtic Druids.  
The things ye see  ere are the things used by the druids in their ceremonies."

     "I'll bet they are worth a fortune."

     "And well they may be.  They cannae leave this family."

     Presently, Siobhan succeeded in getting the fire going, and joined Dale on 
the couch.  She snuggled up into his warm embrace.  Dale was enjoying even 
the feel of having such a beautiful woman next to him.  The smell of her hair, 
as well as the softness of her skin were intoxicating.

     Dale tried a very cliched line, "Now......where were we?"

     "Aye.  I believe ye were kissing me lips."

     Their eyes met, and soon their lips.  Dale and Siobhan sat in a tangle of 
arms while they passionately kissed one another.  They only stopped to come 
up for air.  Dale slipped his hand on top of her shirt to touch her heaving 
breast.  It was so warm, and so firm.

     The play of the two young lovers progressed to the point where it would 
be necessary to take off clothes.  Dale started to lift Siobhan's shirt over her 
head, when she broke away from him.  "What's wrong?  I thought that 
we..........."

     She interrupted him by kissing him quickly on the lips. "......and we will, 
me love.  I just dinnae want your first time with a Scottish lass to be when ye 
are drunk.  I want to make ye some  special' herbal tea which will fix ye right 
up."

     Siobhan started to walk away, but Dale did not want to let her go. She 
kissed him again just to reassure him of her sincerity.  "Ye silly man!  I be 
right back, and after I do, we be doin' some proper lovin'."

     She left the room, leaving Dale to bask in the warm glow of the fire.  He 
couldn't believe his luck!  Everything was just perfect.  He had almost drifted 
off when Siobhan returned, sometime later with a steaming cup of liquid.

     Siobhan gave the cup to Dale, and bade him to drink it.  Dale tried a sip, 
but it tasted horrible. "Ewww.  What is this stuff?  It tastes terrible!"

     "It be an old family recipe.  Ye drink it now, or ye make me very sad.  If 
ye drink it, everything will be ready...."

     Dale had no idea what she meant by  ready', however, he didn't want to 
upset her.  They had come to far.  He just simply assumed  ready' meant 
ready for love.  Despite the terrible taste, he choked down the rest of the 
brew.

     Now their lovemaking began in earnest.  In a very short period of time, 
the two of them were totally naked, laying on the thick carpet in front of the 
fire.  The two lovers caressed, and fondled each other tenderly as lovers do.  
Dale thought that Siobhan's body was just magnificent, better than any he 
had ever seen in a strip bar, or pornographic magazine.  And here she was, 
with him.  Dale thanked the heavens above, mentally, for his good fortune.

     As Dale was caressing the inside of Siobhan's thigh, he noticed a rather 
odd dark red spot. Actually it looked more like a blood stain.  He tried to 
wipe it off, but it would not.  It was perfectly dried.  He broke his kiss of 
Siobhan long enough to ask her, "What is that unusual mark on your thigh?"

     She sighed, "That be the Mark of the Scotts."

     Dale thought this must be the mark to which the young guy, back at the 
pub, referred to.  He was curious now.  "What is the Mark of the Scotts?"

     "In me family, we dinnae chose the head of the family by seniority or 
wealth.  Tis something which nature chooses for us.  Each generation, one of 
us be born with the mark.  When it is time, the person with the mark serves 
as protector of the Scott Clan.  That is the way has always been.  Tis the way 
will always be."

     "There is no one else with the mark?"

     "There was me uncle Angus.  He died last year, leavin' me as the 
protector.  Inherited this house n' property I did.  Do ye wish to talk further, 
or do ye plan ta finish what ye started?"

     With that said, she grabbed Dale's erect penis, pulling him to her.  She 
guided the shaft into her warm, moist opening.  Siobhan moaned with 
pleasure at the feeling of penetration.  Dale began to thrust his hips up and 
down, pulling out, ever so slightly, and back in again.  The pace of their 
lovemaking quickened.

     Then something very strange happened.  Dale began to get very dizzy, and 
disoriented.  It seemed that every stroke was making him even more 
disoriented.  He didn't know what was wrong with him.  All of a sudden his 
vision blurred completely.

     Suddenly, Dale felt like he was on the bottom, and not on top.  He could 
feel the hard surface of the floor underneath him.  Not only that, it felt as if 
someone was thrusting in and out of him. In seconds his vision cleared.  
When it did, he let out a loud "GASP" as he saw his own face above him 
looking down at him.

     Dale didn't have time to find out what happened as he was overwhelmed 
with the first of multiple female orgasms.  The only thing he could do was 
hold on to the body above him, in him, for dear life as wave after wave of 
sheer pleasure shook him.  The sensations overloaded his brain, as he passed 
out.

     Dale awoke some time later, and instantly knew that he was lying in a big, 
bed.  What had happened to him, he wondered?  The last thing that he 
remembered was making love to Siobhan on the floor in front of the fire.  
After that, things got confusing.  Somehow, some way, somebody had 
gotten him from that room into this bed.

     As he lay there on his back, looking at the ceiling, he decided that he felt 
strange, different somehow.  It wasn't a bad different, just different.  As a 
matter of fact, Dale couldn't remember when, in the recent past when he felt 
this good in the morning.  All of his senses were very acute, and he felt, for 
the lack of a better term, alive.

     However, it wasn't morning.  Dale could tell by the level of light in the 
room, as well as the play of the shadows on the ceiling, that it was dusk 
again.  I've been asleep for almost an entire day! he marveled.  He rolled over 
onto his side so that he could see where Siobhan was.  When he did so, he 
got rather large shock.

     A heavy weight upon his chest shifted as he rolled, while, at the same 
time, a mass of curly, flame red hair fell into his eyes.

     "Wha...." he started to call out, but was halted by the sound of his own 
voice.  Where he was normally  a very pleasant baritone, now his voice 
sounded like an extremely soft soprano.

     The sound of his voice brought back, vividly his last memory from last 
night.  It was the sight of himself on top of him, making love to him.  "How 
can that be?" he whispered, as he pulled the hair out of his face.  Except for 
the accent, his voice sounded just like Siobhan's.

     Dale pulled away the blanket, and looked down at himself.  His stunned 
eyes beheld the naked body of Siobhan, herself.  He grasped the two very 
large female breasts in disbelief, the nipples beginning to swell in response to 
the excitement the body felt.  "No. Please no," he shrieked, even as he knew, 
beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he had somehow exchanged bodies with 
Siobhan.

     Dale' s mind reeled as he explored his newfound femininity  Trembling 
hands moved from his breasts to his waist, and from waist down to hairless 
thighs.  Everything told him that he now possessed the body of Siobhan 
Scott.  Dale felt the soft hair that covered his pubic mound.  He paused for 
just a second before slipping a finger into his vagina to confirm that he was 
now a woman.  The unique sensation of penetration told him that he was.

     He remembered that last night she had told him that her family was 
descended from druids. This had to be the work of magic.  This exchange 
was obviously the act of Siobhan.  But why? Dale asked himself.

     He got up from the bed to find Siobhan, to find out why she had done this 
to him.  He had to convince her to switch him back.  As he rose, those 
breasts swayed.  They dangled heavily from his chest.

     Dale looked all around him.  He felt her waist length hair brush his neck, 
shoulders, and back as he did.  Everything in the room looked higher to him, 
until he recalled that she, now he, was barely 5' tall.  Everything looked so 
big from this vantage point.

     He spied an envelope addressed to "Dale" on the dresser across the room.  
Dale walked toward the dresser, marveling in the sensation of moving about 
in this woman's body.  He reached the dresser, snatching the envelope from 
it's resting place.  The sight of her small arm and hand obeying his mental 
commands was almost more than he could take.

     A flash of movement in the corner of his eye made him look up.  There, 
before his eye was the reflection of Siobhan in the mirror.  It was her lovely 
face, her luxurious hair, her shapely, small body moving as he moved.  Dale 
was overwhelmed by the need to cry.

     He choked back his tears, looking away from the mirror.  Dale ripped 
open the envelope to find a letter from Siobhan:


          Dear Dale:

I am truly sorry for this, my love, but there is no other way.  You 
see, the Mark of the Scotts is not a blessing, but a curse.  It was a 
curse that I Could no longer bear.

As the bearer of the Mark, I could not travel, could not see the world, 
As my heart longed to do.  The gift of your body will allow me to do 
My love. 

I know what you are thinking.  Why me?  According to tradition, one 
can only be released from this curse by passing it, and the body that 
possess it to another.  Even then, it can only be done on the night 
before a full, blue moon to one who does not have Scott blood in their 
veins.  Tonight is a full blue moon, the first in 72 years.  I took your 
appearance from the savior that my prayers to be released from my 
burden was answered.

Now you will take my place as Siobhan Scott leader and protector
of the Scott Clan.  You asked me how one as small as I, now you 
could protect a family.  It is this.......

The Mark of the Scotts, is the Mark of the wolf.  When the full moon 
rises, you will change.  You will change into your second form.  All 
of the legends are true.  I, now you, are a werewolf.

I am truly sorry, but it is the Lord's will.  Be well, my love...

                           Siobhan


     Just as Dale read the last word, the sun slipped below the horizon.  The 
first sensation that he felt was a feeling of itching all over his new body.  He 
tried to scratch the itch with his fingernails, even as he saw them start to 
grow, thicken, and turn black.  "NO....." he tried to shout, but the word got 
stuck in his throat.  The only thing that came out was something akin to a 
gurgle.

     A warmth now accompanied the sensation of itchiness.  Dale's eyes 
widened in horror as he saw hair begin to sprout on his arms, legs, and even 
his chest.

     A tingling began to grow on his abdomen just below his breasts.  The 
tingling began to focus on four separate small spots on his torso.  Dale tried 
to scratch them with the claws that now adorned his fingers.  He only 
succeeded in raising for red welts arranged in a perfect square underneath the 
breasts. However, those spots did not remain welts.  They continued to 
grow, pushing out from his torso, even as his new breasts began to shrink.

     Dale's attention did not remain on his torso for long.  He heard a 
crunching noise, and felt the bones of his arms and legs begin to shift, 
assuming a new shape.  He tried to cry out again for help, but this time, the 
only thing that came out was a howl.

     He tried to run, to get away from this crazy dream.  The new shape of his 
legs would not allow him to do so.  Dale fell forward breaking his fall with 
his hands.  The transformation was moving faster now.  The hands and feet 
quickly formed into paws, as his spine assumed a new curved shape that was 
better suited to walking on four legs.  Dale felt a pulling sensation at the base 
of his spine, when a tail forced its way from the rest of his body.

     Everything was happening so fast that Dale barely noticed that his vision 
turned from color to black and white.  He was covered from head to toe in a 
thick silvery-black fur.  He howled again in protest, bending his neck up 
toward the heavens.  Even as he did, as if to answer his protest, his neck 
lengthened, and a canine snout pushed its way from his face.

     The she-wolf looked under her new torso seeing the row of perfectly 
formed animal teats. Animal senses flooded her brain, particularly a new 
smell.  It was the musk of a male wolf nearby. An overwhelming tingling 
sensation grew in the vaginal opening near her tail.  The fading intelligence of 
Dale didn't know what the sensation was.  However, the growing instincts of 
the she-wolf knew very well.

     She knew that she was in heat, instinctively knew that she needed a mate 
in order to continue her bloodline.  She followed the scent of the male 
downstairs to a large dog door on the kitchen door. She didn't even hesitate 
to run out the door, into the moors, and after the scent.

     At the edge of the moors was a large black male.  She wagged her tail 
excitedly, as she padded up to him.  She nuzzled his snout, and his neck.  
Yes, this was her mate!  The male bit the back of her neck, causing her to 
"YELP" sharply.

     The male did not let go, forcing her down into a submissive position.  He 
mounted her from behind, and began to thrust rapidly into her.  Soon she had 
the seed within her that would perpetuate the Scott Curse, and pass along The 
Mark of the Wolf to another!


FIN