All her life, Orsi felt her father was too overprotective. Even after living through twenty hot, humid summers with him, that never changed. They lived together on an island in a deep, blue ocean so far from the mainland that it was barely even a black speck on the horizon. But even for such a remote place, Orsi had seen plenty of other wild creatures, though never by herself—the island was far too dangerous to risk wandering it alone.

At least, that was what Papa Ulrik always said. He was the one who named her, telling Orsi that her name meant “cub.” Sometimes she found his need to protect her to be a quaint thing, but most days it was just annoying. He was constantly on alert, always telling her not to stray too far from the vicinity of their little den by the sea. Not that Orsi ever saw many other people, and if she did, Papa Ulrik was always nearby.

Orsi wondered if she was to blame. She was a slight female, dark-skinned, and her long hair was as black as a serpent’s scales. But Orsi had no fur or feathers or scales to speak of. Her nude body was soft and pliable, with no protection whatsoever—her teeth had no fangs or long incisors; no matter how she tried, her nails refused to stay pointed for long without breaking. It made Orsi feel like a disappointment, and she hoped her Papa didn’t resent her for it. She couldn’t change shapes like he or the other beasts did: Papa did it regularly, changing between a tall, muscled figure on two legs or a thick, black-furred wolf that ran on all four.

It was hot that day, so Orsi made the short walk to the pool not far from the den that she and Papa shared. The sandy earth was warm, sliding between her toes like silt; the roar of the waterfall guided her through the tall trees. She followed the same path as always: past the large rock, beyond the vine wall, and up the creek until she stood beside the pool at the base of the falls.

She climbed onto a large boulder, half-buried in the earth. It was a short drop into the pool and she jumped, tucking her legs tight against her bare chest before plunging into the warm water—it slid over every curve and soaked into her skin, caressing her flesh like an imaginary lover. Orsi came up with a gasp and threw her wet hair back in an arc before slicking it back against her scalp. In her younger years she often climbed up one of the nearby trees and jumped almost from the top of them to see how deep into the pool she could go, but she’d never touched the bottom. That place was isolated, a lonely spot on the stream’s path to the sea. Most of the other beasts didn’t venture close to it—they were too afraid of entering Papa’s territory—so Orsi enjoyed it whenever she liked.

As she swam closer to the base of the waterfall, where it splashed against the rocks, Orsi felt her pulse begin to quicken. Her tummy was warm, but she was fighting off so something stronger than hunger. It was only at her last visit to the pool yesterday that she found a use for the waterfall that went beyond bathing, and with some time to herself, it felt like a good opportunity to indulge again. As she crawled out onto a flat, smooth stone as the base the falls, the water sluiced and slid down her naked flesh as a warm, pleasant mist billowed in her face.

Papa always said that Orsi’s habit of bathing was just “part of her nature.” Bathing was just something she did, a way to keep clean, but Orsi was just beginning to become aware of her body in ways that never occurred to her in the past. She never thought of her body as anything more than it’s physical form—a sack of meat and bones, barely different than what Papa brought home to fill their bellies. But now, in only the last day or two, a transformation had come over Orsi and she was aware of far, far more. That led her to sit with her legs wide open, slowly scooting towards the falls as her breathing began to quicken.

The first thick beads of water that fell upon her thighs were heavy. But with a little maneuvering, she soon found what she wanted: a steady stream pouring down from one of the heavy stones above. Orsi closed her eyes and made the slightest of adjustments of her body, shimmying her hips slowly into position. She concentrated, her tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth.

“Mmmmm!” When the stream fell just right across the thick nubbin between her legs, Orsi pressed her lips tight together and moaned. Her toes curled tight and she fought not to shiver or wiggle her hips as she often when she was excited. She had to remain as still as possible, but the pleasure began to blossom in her belly and swell in her nipples as they rested against the rough stone. Panting hard as her mouth fell open, she arched her back, moaned again and fought not to move, but that was a challenge.

The repetitive slaps of the wet droplets against her little bud were deliciously frustrating: always falling, but never quite in the rhythm she wanted. Orsi sighed and whimpered as it hammered with such intensity, overwhelming her by the sheer force of it. She was already soaked, but her open-mouthed panting while the water poured down made breathing harder. But she was soon rewarded: a rush of heat, a burning pressure in her belly, and a release that came out of her mouth with a roar.

“Yessssssssss!”It felt so good and she wanted more, but holding still was almost impossible. She wiggled her hips, water pouring down her face as she fought to control herself and get back into position. “Mmm! More! Need more!” Whining with every breath, Orsi raised her hips again and felt the stream slap against her bud and her tight lower lips. She felt like a beast herself as she growled with delight.

Her first time experiencing the sweet pleasure of the waterfall came completely by accident when she was climbing the previous day, as a stream of warm water passed through her legs and made them nearly buckle underneath her. Experimentation followed, turning that day into her longest bath ever as she tested different methods of pleasuring herself under the falls. When she found that the seated method proved best, Orsi enjoyed one orgasm after the next until she was exhausted.

The water poured down and Orsi’s thighs trembled. Her mind was a white fog, formless and blank; when her next climax came, she bore down hard, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she groaned even louder. “Ohhhhhhhh! Oh, Papa! Papa!” The name came unbidden to her lips, so much that she opened her eyes in surprise before quickly closing them again.

Papa Ulrik wasn’t someone she’d thought of that way before. He’d found her as a girl, lost and alone on the beach, and brought her back to his den; she’d remained there ever since. He was a caretaker, a confidant and protector. She held him tight when bad dreams came. Orsi loved him, of course, but she never thought of him as anything more…until now.

Now, Orsi thought of his body for the first time: dark fur, rough hands, long limbs and his handsome face when he was on two legs; his thick, furry body and dark, intimidating eyes when he was on all four. Orsi thought of his broad chest and strong hands, his sharp fangs and the tail that hung down past his backside. She thought of his cock, that strange lump of flesh between his legs so unlike her own, and what it might be like to hold it in her hand.

“Papa! Oh, my Papa!” Orsi whispered to her father, wishing that he could hear her. She had so many questions, so much that suddenly made no sense to her, but she was all alone, left to pleasure herself under the waterfall. She groaned between her teeth and fed her endless lust until her legs trembled and she fell to her back.

“Ohhhhhhhhfuck.” Orsi groaned and trembled on the flat rock, gasping for air as her toes curled and uncurled. Pleasuring herself left her exhausted, just as it had the previous day, but it was worth it.

“Enjoying yourself?” A coarse, warbling voice coming from above cut through Orsi’s happy afterglow. She gasped, wiping the water out of her eyes as she sat up. A wiry, dark shape sat in a tree just a few feet away. He had long limbs and a pair of wings that were covered with thick, black feathers. Most of his body was studded with more feathers so that he blended in with the shadows; he might’ve been watching the whole time and she never would’ve spotted him.

“Wh-who are you?” Orsi pushed to her feet. She was still breathing hard, and her breasts rose and fell with each breath; water dripped and slithered down her naked body. “This is Ulrik the Wolf’s territory!”

“‘Ulrik the Wolf.’ Pah!” The crow man’s beak snapped at the air and she had the impression he tried to spit in derision. “Ravens go where they wish, little cub.”

“I’m not your cub!” she said, scowling at the bird.

He laughed—a gurgling, sputtering sound. “So you say!” With his long limbs the creature leapt to the ground, using his dark wings to slow his fall. His inhuman body was long and twisted, and Orsi took a step back as he reached the ground and stood up again. “You’re not marked, either. Ravens take what they wish, and I can smell you.” He gave a long, heavy sniff. “Besides, I’ve been looking for a woman to warm my nest. You’ll do.” His dark wings unfurled as he threw them out wide on each side; the crow man’s shape became larger and darker, even more intimidating and frightening. The body beneath was pale and wrinkled, while his cock hung down between his legs like a thick, coiled spike of ugly flesh.

Orsi took another step back. Her fists were still clenched, but now they began to tremble. “You can’t catch me!” She spun and darted across the slick stones as fast as she darted to run. There was a hideous screech behind her and a great gust of wind as the raven leapt for her, both feet with their cruel, black talons extended. Orsi ducked under a low branch and grabbed it, throwing herself forward just in time to dodge his strike, falling onto her knees before she pushed up and ran, ignoring his angry cry.

Orsi had no talons, no fangs or claws. She had no feathers or fur, no scales or tough hide to protect herself. All she had were her legs and her wits, and Papa’s order had been absolute: if any of the other beasts came into his territory and attacked her, Orsi was supposed to run for home and never look back. So she ran.

Up above, the sunlight flickered and a shape blurred over one shoulder. As quick as thinking Orsi jumped to one side, grabbing a low-hanging vine to send her swinging wide around a wide tree trunk. The crow shrieked in anger as he just missed her again.

“Get back here!” he shouted, flinging one wing out wide. The blow was hard enough to knock her down, sending Orsi spinning before she stumbled to the ground. She landed hard on one side with a grunt and a cry, rolling end over end before she stopped at the base of another tree, stunned with the wind knocked out of her. She was simultaneously terrified of her inability to pull in a deep breath, and at watching the black creature as he crept towards her again, his back arched and dark beak hanging open; a long, pale tongue slid across its edge as he made a heavy slurp of a sound.

“I wonder if you’ll taste as good in my belly as you will on my cock,” the raven said with a sharp, nasal laugh.

Orsi felt tears sliding down across her temples. She managed enough of a breath for a whimper and shut her eyes.

There was a loud, furious snarl and Orsi opened her eyes again. A second black shape slammed into the crow from the side and they both went flying. The raven shrieked again in anger, but now it sounded panicked or even afraid. Another gust of wind blew in Orsi’s face as she fought to sit upright and wiped her eyes clear.

Two beasts were fighting one another. The raven flapped his black wings and swiped with his taloned feet, trying to drive back a huge wolf man covered in black fur with white streaks. They danced around each other, snarling and spitting, but the fight was heavily one-sided in the wolf’s favor and he ended it quickly: when the crow tried to jump into the air to escape, his opponent grabbed one feathered leg and heaved down, slamming the winged fiend hard into the ground. Orsi winced when she heard bones break.

From there, it was a fast, brutal end for the raven. He squawked feebly as the wolf ripped off one of his arms clean out of its socket. Before the maimed monster could cry out again in pain or fear, the wolf had his jaws around the bird’s neck and squeezed, cutting off any sound at all except for a low, pitiful gurgling. The wolf man pulled back, ripping out flesh and feathers as his enemy died at his feet.

Orsi sniffed and wiped an arm across her face while he raised his head and howled to the morning sky, letting the whole island hear his cry of victory. Then he spun around, fixing her with those dark, golden eyes that shimmered in the sunlight. His underbelly and immense chest was heaving with each breath; the dark fur was stained and matted with the raven’s blood. He was also erect, his cock jutting out like a crimson blade from between his legs—Orsi found herself staring and couldn’t look away.

“Orsi.” Papa’s voice broke the spell and her eyes shot up to his face. His heavy brows furrowed as he drew a long tongue across his fangs; his lips were stained black, dripping with blood. “You are unhurt?”

She nodded, pushing some of her dark hair back; it was even blacker than his fur. Orsi felt strange as she approached him—not from the blood, for she’d seen him hunt and kill before, but because of the tonal shift in her mind. Two nights ago, Papa was simply Papa. Now, her father was a man, and she most definitely felt like a woman.

“Good.” Papa sniffed, swiped a hand across his muzzle and picked up the severed arm of the dead raven. “He attacked you.”

Orsi nodded. “He…wanted me.”

“Crows think they can do whatever they want. This one learned otherwise.” Papa grunted and threw the arm away. “Come, Orsi. We must talk.” With that command given, the wolf man turned and led the way, his body melting from two legs down to four before he walked quickly through the jungle back towards their den.

The den of Ulrik the Wolf was a large cave that looked down at the beach and the ocean beyond it. Far, far in the distance so that it was only a black speck was the mainland, a place that Papa said Orsi had come from years ago. For twenty summers—four on the mainland, sixteen on the island—she’d grown and watched that small speck in the distance, yet she never felt the temptation to go back to it. That cave and the island was her true home.

The cavern was at the furthest end of the stream that led back to her bathing pool, so it had a supply of fresh water, offering protection from the rains when they came and the blistering sunshine when they didn’t. Orsi couldn’t remember a life before she came to the island—she’d always lived in that den, had always lived with Papa. But now that her mind and imagination were awake, their little den felt so much smaller.

Papa changed back to two legs when they got into the cave. By that time he’d licked or cleaned his face and looked relatively normal, with his strong limbs and pointed ears, and those eyes that always flashed when the sun or moon was shining just right. His hard-on had also gone down, retreating into its thick sheath, and Orsi fought against a surge of disappointment to see it.

Orsi slid inside after her father and sank down to sit by the door. She sometimes lingered there at night and listened to the ocean’s roar, letting its soothing sound lull her to sleep. “What is it, Papa?”

He turned and crouched down before her, knees bent, hands flat upon the stone before her. His gold eyes flashed in the sunshine, just like she remembered. “How many days has it been since you bled?”

It took effort not to look away. Orsi was too dark to blush, but she twisted up her mouth and sniffed. “Two nights, Papa.” It wasn’t the first time she woke up with blood between her legs. As always, she snuck out of the den that night, scrubbing herself until her flesh squeaked to the touch. Even so, just as always, it was hard to look him in the eyes the next morning. She always suspected he knew, but he never spoke about it, not once. Orsi almost believed she’d gotten away with it, too.