“What?” I shuddered as the blowjob got more intense. “Fuck, he’s really goin’ to town down there.”
“That’s because you’re just delectable.” He leaned in and whispered into my ear. “By the way, we all have eight nipples.”
“What?” I asked, pushing the feral werewolf away and climbing to my knees to lift Roscoe’s shirt. Sure enough, as I pulled his fur aside, they started appearing one-by-one. “H—how the hell’d I not notice?”
“When’s the last time you were down there?”
“I’m always down there. I just never saw ‘em!”
“Well, you’re looking into the future, bud. We all get eight of them when we turn.”
“Oh, this is awful,” I muttered, running my fingers over each one. “This is a real boner-killer. You know that right?”
“More licks?” the werewolf below me asked, salivating some more as he stared at my crotch.
“Uh, yeah. Go fer it,” I said, still eyeing Roscoe’s belly, slightly confused about whether or not I actually found this hot. I kind of expected the high to mellow, but everything just kept getting weirder. The woods weren’t even dark anymore, just all different colors.
It was scary, but I’d never seen anything more beautiful.
My head pounded as I struggled to open my eyes. Though my mouth was bone dry, I could still taste the smoke and booze. My memories were hazy—I could barely recollect what happened after the more intense effects of the drug had taken hold. The odor of wild werewolves assaulted my nose with every movement against the crush of fur and muscle all around me.
The ferals never left, and from the contented look on their faces, I might have let them do a lot more to me than oral. Nausea hit the pit of my stomach as I moved away, and a thickness filling my ass slid out with a wet thud. Thankfully, it was only Roscoe. I looked up at his face, and another horrible memory hit as I frantically felt around his abdomen.
“Oh thank God,” I whispered, sliding my hand against his fur. No rogue nipples. “I’m never doing that shit again.”
Chapter 20
Self Discovery
The early morning brought the usual chill, a thick fog settling around camp. Raven calls replaced the mourning doves high in the thick canopy of pines and oaks. I sat fully clothed on a log away from the smelly werewolf pile I’d been a part of earlier, all of them snoring and twitching next to smoldering embers.
My mind was a jumbled mess. Being out in the middle of the forest with no amenities terrified me, but not for the expected reasons. There were no modern world distractions, and there was nothing to clean. All I had to occupy myself was my mind, which I was too ashamed to face.
I looked down at my bare feet. A few weeks ago, I could have sworn they were normal. Everything happened so gradually that my brain hadn’t kept up with all the changes—it adaptednaturally. Shoes had been impossible to wear over the last few days because of the claws that had grown in place of my toenails. They were longer and hooked, and the calluses on my soles had thickened and turned a darker color like the pads on fully turned werewolf feet.
I teetered on the edge of embarrassment as I tried to remember last night, but the images in my head didn’t make any sense sober. It was almost like those memories were encrypted and the only way to unlock them was to smoke more of whatever herb that was. Seeing how Roscoe had been so eager to trade for drugs instead of information only disappointed me further. I never expected him to change completely, but I’d at least thought he’d show a little more interest in helping me instead of getting high.
A rough hand landed on my shoulder, startling me. I jumped off the log and turned toward the taller of the wild werewolves wearing his leather harness and sacks. He hadn’t made a sound, and his gray fur made him look more like a specter floating through the fog.
“Uh…” I tried to think of something to say, but I doubted he would understand me now. “Good morning?”
He smiled and gestured to the log before sitting. His expression and body language were different from last night. Taking the place of narrow suspiciousness was wide-eyed curiosity, his tail gently scraping against the bark as I sat next to him.
The werewolf reached into his leather pouch and pulled out a pinch of the herb before placing it in front of my face.
“No,” I said, pushing it away. “No trade.” After last night, I didn’t want to risk doing anything more. The high had lasted so long I probably wouldn’t be able to get home.
His tail swayed a little more as he held the herb in front of my face again. This time, he pretended to take a pinch of the stuff before dropping it into his mouth. He wanted me to eat it?
I shook my head, but he insisted again, this time with a more impatient grimace. There was no way to avoid this without making him angry, and I still wasn’t sure what terms we were on. Taking in a deep breath, I took a pinch of the herb and placed it on my tongue. The werewolf caught my cheeks, holding my mouth open.
Confused, I tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight. He scooped the substance out of my mouth with his thick, clawed fingers before placing the stuff under my tongue. Every gland in my mouth seemed to open at once, and the trickle of morning sunlight beaming through the fog turned into a wobbly prism of pastels.
“Do not chew,” he said, letting go of my face. “Hold under tongue so that the effect only last until you spit.”
The world grew brighter and a deluge of memories flooded my brain. The scenery around us darkened to exactly how it was last night, and the hallucinations turned to visions of events that actually played out.
“How the hell did I not notice?” asked a blurry version of me while parting the fur along Roscoe’s stomach to reveal a couple sets of extra nipples. Of all the scenes that could have played out, it was the most disturbing.
