This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. It contains heterosexual and lesbian sexual activity.
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The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead (or just confused) is entirely coincidental. Please do not copy/redistribute the story, in part or in total, without the author's permission.
This story takes place in the entirely fictional city of Springfield, California, so don't go looking for it on a map. And in my little fictional world, there are no unwanted pregnancies or STD's, except as plot driving devices. The author encourages the practice of safe-sex. Finally, as the name implies, this is part of an ongoing series. It would benefit the reader greatly to examine the earlier stories for background information and descriptions.
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"C'mon, keep your eyes up. Don't react to the hands! No, you're telegraphing!" Red growled.
Jane was incredibly frustrated. Once declared healthy, Tarloh and Red decided it was time for Jane to start her training. Jane wasn't sure how exactly she was drafted into this group, but she had acknowledged that she didn't have anywhere else to go. So Jane was playing by the house rules, and that meant learning self-defense, stealth, and "other skills," which Jane didn't inquire about too much.
Red had taken the younger woman aside for the second straight day and began trying to get Jane's feet, fists and hair all coordinated. While a number of people initially found the idea of "living hair" to be silly, Red had quickly realized the potential. Jane's hair had become as strong as steel and was able to stretch to lengths of thirty feet. She seemed to be able to manipulate eight groupings of hair, so Talia had suggested creating eight distinct braids. This had actually done wonders for Jane's control, and she found herself with twelve limbs at her disposal. And she was able to lift tremendous amounts of weight with her new hair appendages . . . the total amount was still to be determined. But for all her potential, Jane was moving around like someone with two left feet and a broken leg. She was trying as hard as she could, and desperately wanted Red not to give up on her, but she seemed to be failing at everything.
Red was conducting a drill where she would approach Jane and try and lightly tag her by touching Jane's side. All Jane had to do was keep Red away, and Jane was failing miserably. She kept trying to run, periodically pushing blindly away with her miscellaneous extremities. She tried anticipating which direction Red was going to go, but the lycanthrope always seemed one step ahead of her.
Jane hadn't seen Red's "other" form until the previous day. When Red morphed, her shoulder's broadened, her breasts seemed to shrink a little bit, her legs bent backward at the knee, her hands grew claws, her skin grew a thin layer of reddish fur and her head became that of a great cat. Quite frankly, she scared the shit out of Jane. But when training, that was the form Red always took.
Jane whipped her head around and extended her braids until they were ten feet in length, using them much like a series of giant weed-whackers. But Red quickly ducked underneath, lunged forward and lightly tagged Jane on the side.
Jane wanted to cry, but she quelled the tears. Her hands were trembling and she hung her head in shame. Then, she felt a soft hand underneath her chin, lifting her face.
"Don't stress," Red said, morphing back to human form and trying to show the girl some support. "I've been doing this for twenty years. You've been doing it for two days, and you're still recovering a bit. Don't be so hard on yourself."
"But I couldn't . . . I couldn't stop you," Jane whispered, her voice reflecting her internal pain. "I can never stop them . . . you . . . Can I go now?" Jane dejectedly headed to the showers as Talia wandered over.
Talia wrapped her arm around Red's shoulders and watch their young friend walk away. "Well, that went well."
"I . . . I don't know how else to train her, but she's so afraid of everything," Red muttered.
"I know. I was just teasing. She really wants to please everybody, particularly you. She doesn't like feeling useless," the dark-skinned beauty pointed out. Jane had actually been doing much better the last few days. While she still kept a safe distance from most people, she let them approach without freaking out and she occasionally engaged in conversations. But mostly, she just seemed to want to listen.
"She's been here what? A week and a half now? What's she expecting?"
"Maybe she doesn't know what to expect. She's kind of been 'just reacting' since she got here. Considering what she's been through, I think she's doing pretty well. Well enough that I thought that I might take her topside tonight . . . you know, bring some of the girls along. You don't need many for the scavenging party, do you?"
"No, just me, Tarloh and two of the gruesome threesome," Red chuckled, using her pet name for Michael, Mindy and Matthew. "Actually, I'll probably take Patrick too. Maybe Johan as well. If you're taking Anya, I'll need someone else stealthy, and a shadow demon will do nicely." Red looked towards the showers. She bit her lip for a moment. "Could you make sure she's okay?"
"Why don't you go ask her?" Talia asked.
"I've got a few things to do . . . finalize a list of targets . . . and she seems a little too fragile for someone with my people-skills to be talking to," Red said, heading over to Tarloh.
"You don't fool me for a minute," Talia said under her breath, then went to get the girls.
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A few hours later . . .
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"God, I forgot how much I liked pizza," Mindy said, running her hands over her stomach. Down in the Den, they did have access to more basic foods but lacked the finer things. Pizza definitely counted as a finer thing.
"Where did you get the money?" Jane asked. It hadn't occurred to her to ask how the Strays managed to survive, as none of them seemed to have jobs.
Talia wrapped her arm around Jane's shoulders, happy she didn't tense up. "We . . . not everything we do is strictly . . . legal," she said. "We steal a lot of what we need to survive, or we scavenge what we can. A lot of the non-lycanthropes donate plasma, which brings in some money, while others work odd jobs whenever they can. Everything in the Den is communal property . . . everyone works for the common good."
"Our dinner tonight was sponsored by a drug-dealer over on Canal Street," Anya said.
"You deal drugs?!?" Jane asked, somewhat shocked.
"No, I stole his wallet," Anya grinned. "It's a pretty common way for me to contribute, and I get a kick out of fucking with anyone who's trying to peddle cocaine to high-school kids."
Jane still looked uncomfortable, and everyone picked up on it. "Listen," Mindy said, "I know it's probably hard. Stealing is wrong . . . that's what everyone is taught. But most of us could never hold full-time jobs or wouldn't want to. Keeping the streets safe from some genuinely evil beings is a job-and-a-half of work by itself."
"Who . . . who do you steal from?"
