Wednesday: Puppy Love

“Did you open my mail again?” Wednesday asked from her bed.

“I told you, it’s not like I read your mail, I just like opening letters!” Enid protested, sitting across from Wednesday on her own bed.

The box she’d opened contained Styrofoam peanuts, some of which now littered the floor, and a vial. She’d plucked off the cork and now, smoke was bubbling out of whatever fluid was inside.

Despite herself, Wednesday was intrigued.

Holding the concoction at arm’s length, Enid picked up the box again. “It’s definitely mine!”

She tossed it to Wednesday, who looked at the packing slip herself to double-check.

“So you ordered some dry ice?”

“It’s not dry ice!” Some excitement crept into Enid’s voice as she looked the vial over from all sides. “I’ve been doing some research on the internet and it turns out a lot of people have had trouble shifting. Of course, a lot of the fixes they’ve come up with are old wives’ tales…”

“Funny how we stop listening to women once they’re old and wives.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, whatever,” Enid said quickly. “This is scientifically proven to stimulate the pituitary gland that’s responsible for a werewolf’s shift.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be cured at some camp.”

“Because those don’t work. This is a medication. Like Aspirin.”

“Aspirin bubbles?”

“If it did, would you not take it?”

Wednesday replied crisply: “I would never take anything to dull the pain I feel.”

Enid took a whiff of the vial, quivering slightly. She was quick to hold the vial away from herself after she’d sniffed it.

“Hey, give me the box back, I wanna see if there are any instructions.”

“It’s a vial full of liquid. What instructions could there possibly be? Just drink it.”

“You’re right!” Enid cried, and stiffened her nervous cringing before upending the potion into her mouth.

“I didn’t mean—” Wednesday began to protest, then rifled through the packing peanuts for any instructions. Her fingers brushed against paper. She pulled out a small booklet. It said ‘Warning’ on the cover.

Her eyes jumped to Enid. The blonde’s hands were at her side, the empty vial dangling from one.

“How do you feel?” Wednesday asked warily.

“Not that different. It kinda tasted like cherry cola. Not my favorite, but I would drink it if they didn’t have Sprite, Pepsi, or ice water.”

“Maybe it takes a while to work.”

“That’s probably it,” Enid said. “Is there a draft in here?”

She turned around to check the air conditioner.

Wednesday never opened her eyes too wide. When she did, they practically creaked.

They creaked now.

The back of Enid’s skirt was raised, lifted out of the way by a long, bushy tail.

This seemed like yet another occasion that called for blunt honesty: “Enid, you have a tail.”

“I do?” Enid looked over her shoulder at the same moment her tail wagged, taking it out of sight. “I do?” She looked over her other shoulder. Her tail wagged and wagged the other way, letting her see it. “I do! I have a tail! My tail! Look at my tail!”

She turned around again, trying for a better look at it, and then turned around again, and again.

“Make me a promise, roomie. Don’t let this change who you are.”

Wednesday’s sarcasm was yet again deployed against Enid’s indifference like a bee trying to sting a honey badger.

“Hey, did you get a look at my panties?” Enid asked.

“Yes. They’re nice. You should be very proud.”

“Aw, thanks.”

Looking to deflect against Enid’s sappiness, Wednesday opened the booklet. “It says here you’re supposed to take it with food. You should probably eat something.”

“Yes! Food! Food-food-food-food!” Enid wagged her tail back and forth, her pink tongue hanging from one corner of her mouth.

Wednesday quirked an eyebrow. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m feeling great! Look at my tail! It’s wagging! Oh, I’m so happy! Now you can tell I’m happy! Because I have a wagging tail! Being happy makes me so happy!”

“Yes, you really shouldn’t keep these things so pent up.”

And then Wednesday sloshed about, having to grab hold of her bed to stay in place after Enid leapt on it.

“What? Do you want me to get you some food?”

Enid nodded vigorously.

Wednesday scoffed, but she did owe Enid after betting her she couldn’t keep quiet for fifteen minutes. Then she’d doubled down and bet Enid couldn’t read through her copy of In Cold Blood. Like most white women, Enid had a skewed ratio between her squeamishness and her love of true crime.

“Fine. I’ll see if I have any Purina.”

Really, Wednesday went to the top shelf of her dresser, where she kept some snacks and canned food for when the kitchen was closed. It was a necessity, given that she could work all day on her writing and not realize she was hungry until all the cooks had gone to bed.

She stood on her tip-toes, trying to reach for a can of tuna since she wasn’t wearing her usual thick-soled boots, when she felt Enid’s nose brush behind her knee.

“What fresh hell is this?” Wednesday gasped, jerking back and nearly falling on her ass. The can she’d been reaching for spilled onto the floor, rolling across the floor.

Why had Enid done that? Why had Wednesday reacted that way? She didn’t feel normal, or normally abnormal. In fact, she felt the same tremors as when she had a vision, only no vision. This was more… visceral.

“What was that for?” Wednesday demanded, whirling on Enid.

Only Enid wasn’t there. She was lower. Kneeling and with her hands down on the floor, like a seated dog, her tail only slowly flicking back and forth.

“Enid, this is weird, even for you. Or me, for that matter.”

Her head tilted to one side, Enid looked up at her with bright blue eyes. The thought of how good Enid looked on her knees floated through Wednesday’s mind. Or started to float, before she soundly shoved it out the door of ideas she cared to ponder.

“Enid, say something.”

Enid barked.

Wednesday started to crane her neck before realizing this had to be a joke. Enid getting back at her for… well, take your pick. She puffed out her breath and went to get the can of tuna.

Enid bounded onto all fours, scampering up to Wednesday and happily circling her legs.

“Okay, it’s not a joke,” Wednesday said.

Enid barked again.

Wednesday picked up the booklet from off her bed while Enid laid down at her feet.

“’Warning,’” she read aloud. “’Do not take in less than eight doses over a forty-eight hour period. Take with meals at regular intervals. If not given time to properly diffuse throughout the body, product may cause a disproportionate change in psyche or parts of the anatomy.’” She looked at Enid. The blonde’s tongue was still lolling out of her mouth. “You think you’re a dog? You’re not a dog, Enid. You’re still a person. Get up. Come on, both feet, stand up!”

Enid jumped up, leaning both her hands on Wednesday for balance. Wednesday staggered under her weight and fell to the bed. Enid landed on top of her. She whined faintly.

“I know I say ‘what fresh hell is this?’ a lot, but this really is a fresh hell.” Wednesday looked at the booklet again, trying to ignore having Enid being a lapdog on top of her. “’If a disproportionate change occurs, wait forty-eight hours to allow the product to fully diffuse and cause a complete change. If change does not fully occur after forty-eight hours, call our helpline…”

Wednesday scoured the number. And also the notice that the helpline was only from 8 AM to 7 PM, Eastern Standard Time. That helped her a lot when it was eleven at night.

Enid licked her face. Wednesday pushed her to the floor.

“Absolutely not.”

Enid whined pitifully.

“It’s your own fault. I didn’t order this crap for you. You’re lucky it’s the weekend. I can just lock you in here until Monday.”

Enid hung her head and whined some more.

“Fine. I’ll put down some newspapers too.”

Suddenly Enid threw her head back and howled plaintively.

“Oh, would you—” Wednesday vaulted out of bed to put her hand over Enid’s mouth. “If I get you some food, will you stop whining? Who knows, that might help.”

She got the feeling canned tuna wouldn’t do. If Enid was a wolf, mentally at least, she could probably do with some red meat. Which Wednesday could get from the kitchen, if she were willing to sneak in—which she was, of course.

Getting to use a meat cleaver a few times was probably the only bright spot of this whole mess.

“Wait here and try not to remember how to open doors,” Wednesday told her new dog, going to their room’s exit and letting herself out.

But even as she started to close the door, Enid rushed against it, battering it open so she could get out with Wednesday.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Enid stayed down on all fours, giving an excited bark. Wednesday shushed her.

“Fine. Everyone’s probably asleep by now anyway. Keep quiet and you can come with.”

Enid followed Wednesday, her head down low, her nostrils flaring. It wasn’t until Wednesday reached the stairs that she realized what was happening. Enid was smelling her, savoring her scent, and Wednesday didn’t know why. It wasn’t like she bothered with perfume. How good could she possibly smell?

Wednesday stopped on the landing. When she took hold of the railing, it was with a tight grip. “Okay then. Stay here.” A thought occurred to her. She aimed a finger at Enid. “Stay! Staaaay.”

At first it seemed to work. Enid whined, but sat down. And no sooner had Wednesday turned around then she heard Enid padding toward her. She turned back around and Enid was right by her, head bowed submissively at her feet.

“Uhh… okay. Or I guess you can come along.”

Enid. Who knew with her? Even when she was a person.

She heard Enid sniff—a great big pull from her nostrils that Wednesday knew could only be smelling her. Then Enid was swarming around her legs, nosing up her dress, nostrils virtually sucking at her stockings.

Wednesday felt panic tighten her throat. She wasn’t a dog person in the first place; she didn’t need someone who thought she was a dog either. “No! Bad dog!”

But her voice was fast losing its conviction. Her fingers loosened on the railing as Enid’s nose found the bare flesh of her thighs. Hot tingles rushed up from where the tip of her nose brushed against Wednesday’s pale skin. Inside, she tensed up, bolts of excitement rolling through her to make every inch of her flesh feel hideously alive. As though waiting for Enid’s slightest touch.

Enid began to lick at Wednesday, dragging her tongue down the girl’s stockinged legs, over her feet, happily licking whatever of Wednesday’s flavor she could get at through the mesh.

It was devastating. Wednesday felt every moment of her skin being wetted with saliva like a new caress. The touch of Enid’s tongue, the rub of her lips along the kinky-feeling texture of her stockings… she suddenly felt like a match for Enid. Out of control, something coming out of her, a monster taking her place to do and enjoy things Wednesday never normally would.

“Cara mia,” Wednesday moaned. It just slipped out.

She drew both hands down her face, her fingernails dragging over her agonized expression. It was wrong. Sick. Depraved. Enid was barely human at the moment. She certainly wasn’t in her right mind. And even if she was, imagine enjoying the affections of such an unbearable, such an annoying…

Wednesday leaned heavily against the handrail, pulling each breath in like it was a tug-of-war. She could heard Enid breathing. The werewolf seemed more and more excited, as though matching Wednesday’s own exhilaration. Wednesday shook her head desperately.

“Down! Down boy!” she cried, forcing herself away from Enid until the girl emerged from under her skirt. It took several steps down the staircase, but the feel of the cold mahogany floor finally protruded into her senses, making inroads into the heated arousal she felt.

She could almost start to cool down… only Enid began to prowl down the staircase after her, one hand after the other, face down and eyes up to stalk Wednesday like she was a squirrel caught unawares.