REDUCED TO THE STUDHOUSE
Dreamed 1980/11/16 by Chris Wayan
I turn into a wolf every month. But I'm not quite your stereotype of a werewolf: I'm canine fully half the time, not just at the full moon. You might as well say I'm a wolf who turns human at the dark of the moon--a werewoman.
It annoys me that those human movies about us always show men. They never mention how awkward it is, going into heat as a werewolf girl! Especially in a big city--you get mobbed by horny dogs.
But among the werefolk, there's an institution to deal with this... a place where werewolves can go, to get fucked without getting pregnant (no big deal for wolves, but it sometimes persists as a human pregnancy, when we change back. And half-dog babies are often not bright). The studhouse is bit like a human whorehouse, I suppose, but with sterilized stud wolves (it's hard for wolves to put on condoms).
This month, I've been feeling solitary. No boyfriend, no girlfriend--don't want ANYONE. I want to be alone! But the moon gets full and and I need to be a wolf, and when I change, I find I'm in heat. It's torture--my body drawing me to others, drawing them to me, but my mind wanting to be alone.
So for the first time in my life, I decide to face the studhouse. At least no attachment is expected, and I won't risk having pups or children. I'm not happy about it--right now my spirit winces at every contact. But as I lope up to the carved double doors, I remind myself--to meet my body's hunger, the studhouse is the best compromise I can come to.
"Reduced to the studhouse," I think, in shame.
And nose the doors open, and slip in.
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