Monstrous Wolf

Last night I was with some friends at a swing park when we espied a pack of wolves on the fringe of the woods, some distance away. In typical machismo fashion, we urged one another on to take shots at them, to scare them off lest they hurt the children. It was a bad idea. In my eagerness to impress, I took aim with the sniper rifle, lined up the biggest wolf in my sights, and squeezed the trigger. Unfortunately, I had failed to account for the trigonometry of long range shooting, and my bullet fell far short. Although missing its intended target, the wolves were intelligent, and knew we were trying to hunt them. Most of them scattered into the forest, but the alpha male, the one I had intended to shoot, charged in my direction. 

I just had time to reload before the great brute was upon us. My compatriots hung back and left me to finish the job. As the wolf opened its jaws to attack, I thrust the barrel of the gun into its mouth and shot it through. It was a horrendous, demonic wolf, with elongated jaws like a crocodile, or some primordial beast that no longer stalks the land. The bullet did nothing to repel the creature, so I fired again. Again the wolf came on, enraged and foaming at the chops. I shot again, and again. Then I had to reload. The beast reared up to deliver a killing bite, just as I managed to slide one more bullet into the chamber, swing the rifle back into its open maw, and fire again. This shot did the job. The creature began to hiss and expel smoke from its jaws, like an old steam train. 

I thought it would drop dead now, but was not prepared for it regurgitating a big awful sack, like a placenta. We watched in revulsion as the wolf turned inside out to release its gastric burden, and then finally melt away in viscera and sulphur. What it left behind began to stir and groan in its membranous prison. The cocoon burst, and out flopped a giant, bald mutant lady, half reptile. One of her legs was a swollen, scaled club, appalling in its mutatedness. Whether the unfortunate victim had undergone such a metamorphosis in the wolf's belly, or if she's been like that before, we would never know, for the wretch could only moan. Half of her face was covered in green scales, and one of her arms was also a blistered mess. After several minutes writhing in agony, her body bubbled up, and then she exploded like a pus-filled boil.