As my mother often said in Wölfennite:Gott sei Dank für kleine Gnaden.Thank goodness for small mercies.”
“Hi, Aman —”
To say I was unprepared for the scene I walked in on after palming open the sliding doors would have been a complete understatement.
Amanda lay naked with each of her appendages tied to a bedpost, pitifully moaning, “It’s not enough! It’s not enough!”
The sight of Amanda tied up wasn’t what shocked me. After her second heat cycle, Amanda begged Leah and me to tie her to the bed so that she could keep herself from the unholy sin of frantically rubbing the wet triangle between her legs.
Over the past twelve hours, I’d come in here plenty of times to find her all tied up, moaning with her back arched off the bed like someone possessed by one of the demons our community had warned us about growing up.
However, this time, when I walked in, I found Amanda's best friend, Priscilla, between her legs, frantically lapping at her sex.
That was new.
Thanks to the many seasons ofDegrassi HighI'd watched in secret, I managed to recover from my shock by the time the door slid closed behind me.
Still, I had to ask, “Priscilla! What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry!” Priscilla lifted her head to reveal a chin covered in the viscous heat fluid that seeped from Amanda’s private regions whenever she had an episode. “I just came up here to check on her. But she was begging for relief, and some instinct told me this was the only way to help her. I know it is unholy. But she’s my best friend. I had to try to help her.”
“Please keep going,” Amanda cried out. She lifted her hips as far off the bed as she could, trying to push it into Priscilla’s repentant face. “It’s not enough, but it’s something. Please, Prissy! Please, don’t stop!”
Priscilla’s eyes darkened with some emotion I faintly recognized but couldn’t quite label. She licked her lips like someone starving,and her head began to dip back down. But at the last moment, she restrained herself.
“Should I give her more relief?” she asked me.
As if I should know what to do in this situation.
I rubbed at the headache that always began to form when I stayed in Amanda's room for more than the minute or two it took me to retighten her makeshift restraints. I needed to think, but I couldn’t do that with Amanda’s heat smell filling up the air like the version of white noise favored by horror films.
It felt like I would be torturing Amanda if I said no. But what kind of psychological toll would giving Priscilla permission to provide Amanda with relief have later when she and Amanda regained their senses?
IfAmanda regained her senses.
The Scottish she-wolf's ominous words rang through my ears.
God, I needed to think — to reason. But I was so tired…
“Ah! Can’t take it anymore!” The sound of ripping fabric let me know that the makeshift restraints weren’t any match against the strength of a she-wolf in heat.
Amanda pulled her best friend’s head back to her glistening sex, and in an instant, the question went from whether to give spoken permission to whether or not I should cover my eyes.
"Cover my eyes" was winning out when the door whispered open behind me.
Oh no!
Deeply aware that neither Amanda nor Priscilla would appreciate being seen in this position, I spun around to tell the new arrival. “Get out, please. I have this fully under…”
The lie about me having things even slightly — much less fully under control died in my mouth when I saw two she-wolves standing there.
I couldn’t smell anything beyond Amanda’s heat, but I immediately sensed they weren’t Scottish but Irish.
One was tall and thin with ash-blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun. The other Irish she-wolf also had her hair pulled back in a bun. But that was where all similarities ended. She was much shorter and stockier than the ash-blonde, and her muscular arms bulged underneath a Teagan & Sara t-shirt. She had thick blond hair, pulled back into a stubby ponytail. If not for her soft jawline and the swells of breasts underneath her t-shirt, I might have mistaken her for a male.
Or maybe she was a male. All the cultural study I’d done to prepare myself for life at a human institute of learning jumbled through my overwhelmed head. Could this be a real-life example of the people who referred to themselves as non-binary?
The tall, thin one spoke before I could form the words to ask after the shorter one’s pronouns. “Howya there. The doctor's here to sort you all out. What's the craic, then?”
