I sat on the couch watching a video on my phone while Adam kept flipping through the channels on the TV, never sticking to one show for very long. I was going to say something, but from the sly way he’d occasionally look over at me, that was precisely the reaction he was aiming for. This time, I wasn’t going to give him what he wanted, but I was also growing more irritated by the second, especially when he increased the volume.
Simon walked into the living room and paced silently for a moment, shakily holding a werewolf-sized mug of coffee in one hand.
“Are you okay?” I asked, noticing the dilation of his pupils and rapid eye movement.
“Yeah,” he replied, taking a few more sips from the mug. “Need to borrow yer phone.”
“How much space you got on it?”
“I don’t know. Sixty-or-so gigs. Again, why?”
Simon’s ears shot up as he disappeared into the hall. Adam and I looked at one another while listening to boxes scrape against the wall in the bedroom. He reemerged wearing a pair of fake rounded spectacles and a square academic cap a size too small for his head.
“Well? What do ya think?”
“I don’t know what to think. You haven’t explained anything!” I sat my phone on the arm of the couch and stood up. “Give me the coffee, Simon.”
He poured the rest of the mug into his mouth. “This shit’s kinda good. Could use a little Baileys.” His excitement turned to a wide-eyed panic. “I’m not used to bein’ so alert. I’m ’bout to go insane!”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“We ran out of beans. I—I don’t think werewolves are supposed to drink coffee.”
“Then why do you keep drinking it?” I paused and blinked twice. “Simon… that was two-and-a-half pounds of Robusta coffee. What do I do? Do I take you to the vet?”
“Listen to my idea,” he said, talking much faster than before. “Sex Ed by Simon.” He stepped closer and nudged me with his elbow. “Eh? What’dya think?”
“I think I’m going to start hiding my coffee from now on.”
“C’mon. It’s a great idea for the OnlyFans. I’m the big bad wolf that shows up to teach you all about sex, and you pretend to be all doe-eyed and innocent.”
“Heh, yeah. ‘Pretend,” Adam muttered under his breath.
The room flashed red for a second.
“Think about it, Art. We have to have an angle that’s kinda unique or we’ll get buried. You know how much half-turn-on-werewolf porn there is?”
I shook my head.
“A lot.” He rubbed his head. “Shouldn’t be surprised, I guess.”
“What about the costume idea?”
“It wasn’t as unique as I thought.” He took my hands in his and gave me that wide-eyed, watery stare that was always hard to resist. “It could be really fun.”
“You’re not using my phone for this.”
“But I don’t got nothin’ to record us.”
“Use mine,” Adam said with a smirk before fishing his phone out of his pocket and tossing it to Simon. “Art’s phone is a cheap piece of shit. This one’s got some great features.”
“My phone’s cheap because I’m not an idiot that spends over a grand on something I barely use to make phone calls.”
Adam ignored me and hurried over to Simon. “You can record in 4k, and you can even use the slo-mo feature for when things really get rough. It’s even waterproof.”
“Hmm,” Simon said, stroking the thicker fur around his chin. “That could come in handy. I got a great idea.” He looked back at me. “Don’t leave or nothin’.”
“Not like I can go anywhere,” I mumbled, sitting back on the couch to resume the video I was watching earlier.
Simon had been in our bedroom for over an hour with the door closed, stepping out the back door occasionally, and Austin was in the garage working with something metallic. Adam and I finally settled on a show we were trying to hear over the drilling and hammering.
“What the hell is he doing in there? I’m about to say something.”
“Don’t you dare,” Adam said, kicking his feet up on the couch. “He’s leaving me alone. That’s all that matters.”
“I thought you guys were getting along better. Did he do any of that stuff you wanted?”
The half-turn ground his teeth.
“I take that as a no.”
“He was so close. So close, but then he got all weird because I was on top, and was ‘telling him what to do.’ So, it was business as usual. Austin’s specialty: hard and fast with no foreplay.” He muted the television. “You don’t seem like you’re all that interested in Simon’s idea. Why don’t you let me do it?”
A slight pang of anger sent a warm flash through my face. “Don’t subject yourself to Simon’s perversions.”
“I think it’ll be fun, and if he’s as good as you say he is… it could be what I need.”
The entire room turned red again, and the annoyance from earlier quickly morphed into the rage I’d been holding back for days. “Really. It’s not necessary.”
“You’re just going to bore everyone and kill boners.”
“Like anyone will find your gaping, ground hamburger-looking asshole convincing enough to be an innocent high school boy.”
Adam jumped up from the couch. “You’re afraid.”
“Well, yeah. Gaping, ground hamburger anuses are gross.”
“You’re afraid Simon would prefer me over you.”
“You know there’s like, thirty other werewolves in this town, right? If you’re that thirsty, go set up a lemonade stand outside with a glory hole.”
“I’m gonna ask him,” he said in a playful tone before turning toward the hallway.
A low growl left my throat, and everything got darker. “If you step into that room, I will throw you through every window in this fucking house.”
The red hue disappeared when I realized Adam was actually winning.
“Why are you so weird about this?” Adam asked, his tone a little less teasing. “You were fine when Derrek was with him, and it’s not like he’s your boyfriend. You even said that yourself.”
“Just drop it.”
The bedroom door opened, and Simon strolled into the living room with a grin so obnoxious that I began to reconsider Adam’s request.
“You ready?” he asked, handing me a wrinkled sheet of paper.
“It’s yer script.”
I looked down at his terrible handwriting, reading through each of my lines. “This is…surprisingly tame.”
“And you were worried.”
“I still am. This just makes me more suspicious.” I folded the paper as Simon handed me a dirty white t-shirt with a smile emoji on it and a red and white baseball hat. “Oh come on.”
“It’s yer costume. It’s what a high school kid would wear.”
“In what decade? I’ll just wear what I’m wearing.”
“Nah. It’s gotta be that.” He licked his lips. “Only that. No pants.”
“That doesn’t make any sense either—”
“It’s porn, Art! Fucking hell. You’re getting people off, not making a cinematic masterpiece,” Adam interrupted, looking up at Simon. “Let me do it.”
Simon’s ears perked up. “Really?”
The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up, and I reluctantly put on the baseball cap. “Tell me what you want me to do,” I muttered, slipping into the t-shirt.
The perverted old werewolf rubbed his hands together. “Oh boy. When we get to the room, take off yer pants and underwear, then sit at the desk.”
“What desk?” I asked, darting into the bedroom. A little wooden table and chair sat in front of a chalkboard Simon had hastily screwed into the wall. It was slightly crooked with ‘Sex Ed with Simon’ scribbled in pink chalk in the middle. “How? How did you get all this in here without me noticing?”
Simon’s tail wagged, and he pointed to Adam’s phone, which was tied to the handle of our vacuum cleaner. “You said the phone was waterproof, right?”
“Are we taking this into the shower or something?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said with that same devious expression he wore earlier.
I unfolded the sheet of paper he gave me earlier. “I didn’t see it in the script.”
Simon snatched the paper away. “It’s more fun to improvise, don’t you think?”
“I don’t like the way you’re looking at me right now.”
“If Art doesn’t want to, I’ll volun—” I shoved Adam out of the bedroom before slamming the door shut.
“It would have been more fun with the two of you,” he said, straightening the camera phone.
I remained silent, but didn’t take my heated gaze off of him.
“I know. You don’t like threesomes.” He snatched the cap off my head, putting it back on my head the other way. “Alright kiddo. Pants off.”
“Do not call me that on camera,” I said, slipping off my pants. “This is creepy enough as it is.”
“Underwear too,” he added.
“I’m in a classroom. Why would I sit at a desk with a shirt and nothing else?”
Simon swiped his finger across the phone screen and tapped once. “You didn’t read the syllabus, did you?” He walked to the front of the desk, pointing to the seat. “Now yer in detention.”
I cleared my throat, stiffening up a bit as my nerves set in. The camera and I never got along, and as a half-turn, I was even more self-conscious.
“Sorry, sir. I forgot my homework.” I plopped down onto the little wooden chair, which was cold against my bare skin.
“How ’bout we start with some easy lessons?” He wrote something on the board, then moved out of the way before pointing to it with a yardstick. “Now read this.”
“I fucking hate that word.”
He let out a nervous laugh and looked over at the phone. “We’re live.”
“What?” I hissed through my teeth. “This wasn’t supposed to—”
“Do you want another hour of detention, or do you wanna read the word for the rest of the class?”
I let out a sigh, half covering my face with my hand. “Bussy.”
“What was that?”
“Bussy, you fucking—” I said louder, deliberating the pros and cons of committing murder on a live stream. “Mr. Simon.”
He put both palms on the desk and leaned in. “Now, show me where it is,” he demanded, licking the drool from his chops before turning to the camera, adjusting the fake spectacles on his snout. “Half-turn twinks, just like humans, have cute little boy pussies.”
I wanted to die. In fact, if this continued for much longer, I’d probably end up doing just that.
“Why don’t you show me?” I asked, making my tone sound as threatening as possible.
“Well, alright.” He pulled the desk toward him and lifted me up before turning my bare ass toward the camera.
“Put me down!”
“As you can see,” he said, struggling to hold me still, “this is some grade-A boy pussy, and it don’t ever get too loose neither, no matter what you put in there.”
“I’m gonna kill you, I swear to God!” I shouted, punching his back as hard as I could. His other arm locked my lower half in place as he parted my ass with his fingers.
“I could shove my entire arm up there and he’d walk away like nothing happened. Isn’t that amazing?” He finally sat me down, and I threw a punch at his stomach, which didn’t even make him flinch. “Ooh! Looks like we got some viewers,” he said, looking over at the screen of my work laptop sitting in the corner that had his OnlyFans account pulled up on it. For someone who claimed he didn’t know anything about computers, he seemed more than capable when it came to this.
“Simon! That belongs to the company, you idiot.”
Instead of acknowledging me, he scrolled through the fan chat messages.
“That ain’t a bad suggestion, uh—monsterfucker47.”
“Are we even bothering staying in character anymore, or has your goldfish brain already moved onto something else?”
Simon turned back toward me. “We got any grapefruit?”
“Fuck no! Can we try to keep this somewhat normal?”
“Dude, we’re up to fifteen viewers,” he whispered, still reading through the chat. “They really like you. I got a great idea.”
“Oh God. Let’s just fuck or something so we can end this.”
Simon grabbed an old USB phone charging cable and pointed to the chair. “Have a seat. The real lesson’s about to start.”
“What are you doing with that?”
“Trust me,” he whispered, with a look I definitely didn’t trust. “We got twenty viewers now, so we need to take this up a notch.”
Holding the cord, he grabbed my arms and held them behind my back, forcing me into the seat. The more I struggled, the stronger his grip was.
“I—I don’t want to do this anymore.”
He looked at the camera. “Half-turns like Art love to play hard to get, but they’re all kinky little monkeys.” Simon slipped the wire around one wrist, tying it to the arm of the chair before working on the other end. As much as I tried, I couldn’t loosen the wires. They’d just get tighter the more I struggled.
“If I get out of this—” He grabbed my face with one hand and shoved a cheek retractor into my mouth. “UUH COHHA KIIIII YOO!”
“I assure no half-turn will be harmed in the making of this video,” Simon said as he turned the chair toward the camera and got down on one knee. “Rosebud798, thanks fer the twenty. This one’s fer you.” He ran his long tongue up and down my shaft, soaking everything in his spit.
My eyes rolled back as he went to work, and all I could do was moan incoherent words while spittle roped down my chin, since the device he used made it impossible to close my mouth or swallow properly. This wasn’t at all what he usually did during foreplay; instead, it was as if his goal was getting me off as fast as possible, even going as far as slipping a finger into my ass as he sucked. Thankfully, he had trimmed and smoothed out his claws earlier today.
I jerked, tilting my head back as I got closer, grateful that Simon was putting a quick end to this. With one final shudder, I moaned out, fully expecting to blow my load in his mouth, but instead he pulled away at the last second. The red haze returned as I realized what he was doing. I snarled, rocking back and forth on the chair, trying to break loose.
“That sure didn’t make him happy,” Simon said, giving a concerned look toward the camera. The fake sentiment didn’t last long as a wicked smile snaked up his maw. “Want me to do it again?” He squinted at the laptop. “Hell yeah. Fifty viewers.”
He started sucking my dick again, and I got this strange feeling, like sandpaper rubbing beneath my skin. Predictably, I was on the brink and Simon pulled away. This time, a warbling howl left my throat. The rage coursing through my body sent my heart rate through the roof.
“Yer doin’ great. They love it,” he whispered, licking the crook of my neck. Standing again, he turned back toward the camera. “I never met a half-turn that didn’t love a bit of piss play. You guys wanna see that?”
My eyes went wide, and I rapidly shook my head as Simon looked back at me. “He wants it. Don’t you want it, you frustrated little piggy?” He held up a finger and got even more excited. “Oh! I know what’ll make this better.” He trotted over to the laptop and pulled up my Spotify account. “Ever heard this song before?”
An acoustic guitar started playing in a familiar tune, before a bass guitar layered in with hand-clapping. Simon gripped his dick again with one hand as he shuffled playfully around the chair to the beat. Then he started singing.
“Well I don’t know why I came here tonight. I’ve got the feeling that something ain’t right…”
I let out a shrieking yell I’m sure the neighbors could hear as I struggled in vain to loosen the cords.
“Clowns to the left of me—”
Simon swung left, letting loose a stream of urine that soaked my chest. He was actually doing it. Of all the shit he’d pulled since I’d known him, this was probably what was going to put me on a path to homicide.
“Jokers to the right!”
The stream of piss went the other way, this time getting into my mouth. I let out a gurgled scream of rage, the room almost blood red as the sandpapery feeling on my skin got worse. He kept his cock pointed at my chest, pissing while thrusting his hips in time with the music.
“Here I am, stuck in the middle with you. Yes I’m, stuck in the—”
With an ear-splitting snap, the arm of the chair separated, and I pounced upward, breaking the other arm while holding the detached piece of wood in my hand. Before Simon could react, I jumped on his back and began beating him over the head.
“Shit! Art, I’m sorry!”
There were only flashes of light and a few grunts and words, but it was all so hazy. The detached chair arm finally broke, but that didn’t deter me from clinging to him with my claws as I punched him over and over again. He hobbled to the camera and gave a shaky thumbs up.
“That’s all the time we have today—ow—and, uh… hopefully you come back and watch us again,” Simon said before ending the stream. He was able to reach the nape of my neck, giving it a squeeze which made my entire body go limp.
“Calm down, Art.” He held my arms in place, and the angry haze subsided. “Damn, I didn’t think you’d get that upset.”
I didn’t respond at first, my head swimming as though I’d just gotten off of a Tilt-a-Whirl.
“What the hell happened?”
He let me go and sat on our mattress while rubbing his head, which was bleeding a little. “I guess I went a bit too far. Next time, I’ll have to make sure to tie you up better.”
I limped over to the bedroom door, my dripping shirt leaving a beaded trail. “Do werewolves grow things back?”
It took Simon a few seconds to respond. “Why do you ask?”
“Let’s say that tonight, when you fall asleep, I cut something off with a chef’s knife. Will it grow back?”
“Okay, Art. I know yer upset, but… man, I’m feelin’ kind of woozy.”
I turned back around, grimacing. “You should go to sleep,” I growled before walking into the hall toward the bathroom.
An hour later
I sat on the couch in a bathrobe, scrolling through social media while Simon was either giving me space or sleeping off a mild concussion. The other two were out somewhere, and all I could thankfully hear was the gentle blowing of the ceiling fan. The quiet was a wonderful change of pace from the pulsing of blood through my ears earlier.
Taking in a calming breath, I looked down at the thicker, fur-like hair covering my arms and chest. It wasn’t far along like Adam’s, but my body had definitely undergone some kind of change. Even my teeth felt a little sharper.
Cautious footfalls crept through the hallway, stopping at the bathroom as the door shut.
“You better clean the shit out of that floor,” I shouted from the couch, to no response. “I still have that taste in my mouth, you disgusting shitbag!”
The toilet flushed, and the bathroom door opened. Sluggish footsteps grew louder until a very regretful werewolf poked his head out from around the corner.
“We got like a thousand followers off that,” he said, his ears sinking off to the side. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re not sorry! You’d do again, wouldn’t you?”
Simon laughed. “We made five grand.”
“People love that shit.”
“You were reenacting Reservoir Dogs while pissing on me. How the hell did that get a thousand followers?”
“It was the dynamic,” he said, plopping down next to me. I snarled, and he scooted a little further away. “The angrier you got, the more people loved it.”
“If you ever do something like that again, I may hold true to my threat earlier.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Look, Art… I’m genuinely sorry. I thought you’d find it funny. Hell, I’ll let you pee on me next time. How’s that sound?”
“Why—why are these words still coming out of your mouth right now? I don’t want to talk about it; I don’t want to think about it; I don’t even want to remember it. As far as we’re concerned, it never happened.”
He opened his mouth, but I cut him off.
“You’re also going to give me two-thirds of that money.”
“Wait a minute! That’s not what we agreed on.”
There was a dim orange reflection on Simon’s face from my eyes as the room turned that familiar shade of crimson. This was happening way too frequently, and with all that had just transpired, I now understood the warnings Simon gave me. If a human made me that mad, I would have actually killed someone, and I wouldn’t have been able to stop.
The front door slammed open, and both Adam and Austin stomped inside, yelling at one another.
“It’s because your little ass is mine. Kuu rules.”
“In your dreams. I’m over your bullshit.”
“I fuck you what? Ten times a day? That’s still not enough for you?”
I rubbed my head, wishing I could go back to the quiet house moments ago. “What’s wrong with you guys now?”
“Let me ask you something,” Austin said, standing in front of the couch. “Would you go out and fuck half the town, or stay true to your kuu mate?”
I cast a glance at Simon. “Right now, I don’t want to fuck anyone. At all. Probably ever again.”
Austin sniffed the air. “Did someone piss in here?”
The next day
It was breezy and cool, and the air had a sweet smell to it. The first day of fall was a week ago, but it hadn’t felt like it until now. I walked barefoot through the yard, stopping short of the woods. The last encounter I had out there replayed in my head, and I often kept that gem in my pocket. I still didn’t understand what it was, but there was one person in town that likely knew. A genuine elder.
All the blood rushed from my face when I realized I had forgotten to go back to see the mayor yesterday. In a panic, I rushed inside to throw on a fresh shirt and shoes before making a mad dash to the front door.
“What’s wrong with you?” Simon asked, holding another mug of coffee.
“I’ll be back later.” I stopped and examined the half-empty pot of coffee on the counter. “That’s your last cup. I mean it.”
“Yer killin’ me here. I can’t drink, I can’t smoke weed, and now I can’t have coffee.”
“I’m not saying you can’t drink it, but you always do everything to the extreme.” I grabbed his wrist. “You’re shaking. How much did you drink?”
“We may need more coffee beans, again.”
“That’s it. I’m cutting you off.”
“I’m maybe a hundred freakin’ years old. You can’t tell me what to do.” Simon spoke so fast his tongue could barely keep up with his words. He then let out a rapid bout of laughter before taking another sip.
“Yeah,” Adam cut in, snaking his way next to Simon. He took the werewolf’s broad arms in his and leaned his head against him.
“You know what? Go ahead and drink the rest. And after that, why don’t you take Adam to the bedroom and do what you did to me yesterday… for the fans.”
Adam grinned. “Giving up already?” He looked up at Simon. “So, what are we doing, big guy? I mean, professor Simon.”
“Oh boy, yer gonna love it. Go grab a chair from the dining room and uh, I need to get somethin’ from the garage.”
I opened the door, not able to contain a smug half-grin as I stepped outside.
Being a half-turn had its perks, despite the many drawbacks, one of them being stamina. Whether it was hours in different sexual positions or a ten-minute sprint to town without having to stop to catch my breath, I couldn’t deny how much more physically capable I was now than I’d ever been. Werewolves were the same way, but much stronger and faster—even those like Simon that had a little more around the waist than others were startlingly fast and agile.
My anxious dash slowed to a light jog upon reaching the city hall building. There weren’t many people around except for a man in a black suit sitting outside on the bench, smoking a cigar. This part of the country had its share of diversity, but it was rare to see a man of middle-eastern descent. He had ashy dark-brown hair, and a neatly trimmed peppery beard, which gave him the appearance of someone much older. However, this was in contrast to his smooth, bronze skin. I’d never see a middle-aged man so gorgeous. I nearly tripped over the unevenly set sidewalk while trying to check him out without him noticing.
As I approached the door, I gave it a tug, but it held tight against the frame.
“It’s closed,” the man on the bench said in a slightly familiar accent. “It was open yesterday, though.”
“Thanks,” I replied, taking a few steps back before turning around. The trip wasn’t a complete waste of time, because I still had to replace the coffee Simon used up. I started along the route back the way I came when I heard the man behind me stand up.
“You, of all people, should understand what ‘meet me tomorrow’ means.”
I froze. Warmth pulsed against the back of my neck with each steady breath, and with it came the scent of strong tobacco and rich, spicy cologne with a hint of something much more masculine. The man had somehow appeared only a few inches away from me. When I turned around, a quick flash of orange in his irises betrayed who he was.
He grinned and took a few quick puffs of his cigar, blowing the smoke away from us. “Why don’t you have a seat next to me?” The mayor gave me a hard look. “We have much to discuss.”