Chapter 19: A Feral High

Image by ZeForge

Several hours later…

Furious pounding shook the front door, tearing Simon and I from a stupid argument about which Star Trek was the best. We knew this was going to happen soon since the connection between Mosavi and I had been severed. I pleaded with Austin to take Adam out to eat earlier, but as usual, he refused; instead, he kept prodding me into an argument until I started shouting commands. It wasn’t as though I wanted to use that technique again, but I didn’t want either of them to be here for the mayor’s rampage in case the worst happened.

“I know you’re in there, Arthur. I smell you.” 

“Grab the box. We’re getting the hell out of here before he breaks down the door,” I whispered, slipping on my sandals. 

“Doubt it. He sounds human right now, and I don’t think he’s gonna go all wolfy where someone might see him.” He slid the box of beer and snacks off of the dining room table and carried them in his arms. “This is gonna be fun!”

The sound of a key slipping into the knob made me break into a cold sweat, but as it rattled without opening, I was thankful Austin had the foresight to change the locks after he put varnish on the door.

Mosavi growled a few harsh words in Farsi before continuing his assault. 

“We’re not going out there to have fun,” I muttered, grabbing a light coat from the rack and the backpack of supplies I packed earlier. Carefully, I peeked through the curtains to see the mayor in his human form with his cell phone pressed against his ear. He turned away from the house and started speaking calmly in his language. This was our chance to leave, and I followed Simon into the hallway toward the back door. “I’m defying an elder right now. We’re so fucked.”

“We ain’t fucked.” Simon opened the door, and we both slipped outside. “He’s bluffing. He don’t even know if yer home. And if he’s in human form, he probably can’t smell you—” He gave himself a sniff. “He could probably smell me, though.”

“We’re going to have more discussions about your hygiene later,” I whispered, gently shutting the door behind me. “I’m cutting you off unless you start taking more showers.”

Simon let out a quiet snigger, pushing away a few tree branches as we walked into the woods. “I can be as gross as I want, and you’d still ride my dick.”

“Is that so?”

Simon sniffed the air. “Yer horny right now. Let’s test my theory.”

“Yeah, but you’re forgetting you’re not the only werewolf at home, and Austin’s happily obeying everything I say.”

The shitty grin on Simon’s face shifted. 

“Now yer bluffing.”

“Do you really wanna call it?”

“It’s Austin. The guy has the personality of a tree stump, and I know you ain’t gonna willingly let the guy fuck you. Yer too much of a prude.”

I bit down on my lower lip as we went deeper into the dense trees. The late afternoon was fading, and in about an hour, I wouldn’t be able to see anything. We’d both have to rely solely on Simon’s night vision and heightened senses. 

“There’s a lot more to Austin than you think. The poor guy’s been through some horrible shit.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

“You know some of it, but that’s not even scratching the surface.”

Simon turned to me, the bottles in the box rattling as we quickened our pace. 

“There’s more than just the military fuckin’ with his mind?”

I nodded. “Can’t talk about it, though. He confided in me.” Cracking a smug expression, I met Simon’s eyes. “He’s told me things he won’t even tell Adam, so underneath that stump-like personality, there’s a really sweet guy.” After raising one brow, I faced the path we were on. “He also showers for me now. Still gonna call my bluff?”

Simon didn’t say a word. 

“Didn’t think so,” I continued, knowing deep down I really wasn’t going to do anything. There was no way I’d break the promise I made to Adam—well, not without Mosavi’s interference. Another reason to stay far away from that guy. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“Nope. If they wanna be found, they’ll find us. Ever open a Kraft single around a dog?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s kinda what we’re gonna do, only the dogs are eight-foot-tall, aggressively territorial monsters.” 

“And the more you talk, the more I’d rather take my chances with Mosavi.”

I tugged at Simon’s ratty, black, sleeveless shirt that didn’t go past his midriff. This was the first time I’d ever seen him wear it, and it had the word ‘cum’ written in Doom font on the chest.

“Where the hell did you get this?”

“Would you believe someone just threw this away?”

“Absolutely.”

“By the way. Where’s my orange hoodie?”

“In the washing machine. You’re lucky it’s not in the garbage.”

His ears pressed angrily against his head. “You washed it?”

“You’re damn fucking right I did. It was filthy, and I got tired of smelling it.”

“You know how long it took me to get it smellin’ like that?”

“You’re gonna gross me out again, aren’t you?”

Simon huffed, looking away from me. “You just don’t understand. Smells mean everything to a werewolf. That hoodie was comfortable and familiar, and one of my closest friends gave it to me.”

“It’s in the washing machine, dude. It’s not like I threw it in the fire pit.”

“You may as well have. It’s gonna take months to get it smellin’ the way it did.”

“I swear to God, Simon—” 

“Don’t go changin’ everything,” he snapped. “It’s bad enough yer makin’ me take showers all the time. It’s hard on my skin, you know? We ain’t like humans. Gotta have them natural oils or we start to itch all the damn time.” 

“Then why don’t you and Austin just shift into your half-turn form when you shower? My skin doesn’t itch.”

Simon gritted his teeth, still not looking at me. 

“Don’t wash my hoodie anymore.”

“Whatever. Just don’t wear it when we’re close.”

He grinned again. “Yer gonna learn to love that smell one day. Nothin’ really stinks to a werewolf; certain smells just makes us think about things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, see that pile of deer shit over there?” He turned to the right and nudged me. Sure enough, there were deer droppings not far from where we were walking. “I can tell you almost anything about that deer just from smellin’ it’s shit.”

“Are you for real?”

“Ain’t gonna lie about that, otherwise you’d probably think I was into it.”

I squinted at him. “You sure as hell better not be. I draw the line at piss. In fact, we’re never even doing that again.”

“I’m just sayin’ that smells ain’t good or bad to us. They just tell us what we need to know, and sometimes they make us feel comfortable.” He glared at me again. “Like my hoodie.”

“Fine. I’m sorry. I won’t wash it again.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Just curious. What was so comforting about it? You just like your BO or something?”

“Our BO,” he corrected. 

“Excuse me. I do not have BO!”

“I just like the way we smell…together. That hoodie had a lot of us in it, and I liked that.”

As annoyed as I was, that actually made me smile. “Well, now I feel like shit.”

“Mission accomplished. Maybe you won’t be such a hardass about me takin’ showers now.”

“Oh no, you’re definitely doing that more often. I’m putting my foot down.”

The werewolf huffed but didn’t say anything more. We continued along an invisible path only Simon could see, and as the sun got lower, I grew more concerned.

“How long are we going to stay out here?”

“You got yer supplies, right?”

I shuffled under the light weight of my backpack. “We’re not spending the night in the woods. I didn’t pack enough stuff for that.”

“What stuff do you need? Yer a goddamn half-turned werewolf. This is where we should be, anyway.” He inhaled deeply through his nose. “Smell that clean air. Mmm, all them pines and maples.”

“You’re smelling deer shit right now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, that’s in there, too.”

As angry as I was earlier, we’d always end up like this—making each other smile. There wasn’t a soul on the planet who could put on the charms enough to make me drop inhibitions and make compromises I normally wouldn’t, but Simon had his ways.

“Did you live in the woods with the ferals? You seem to know a lot about them.”

One of Simon’s ears fell off to the side as he cocked his head. “I get bits and pieces of when I was young, and I can remember runnin’ through the woods a lot.”

“You? Run?” I laughed. “I don’t believe it.”

“I run when I have to. Just ain’t had to do it in a while.” He shoved me with his elbow. “I was probably a hyper little scamp, but I really don’t remember my time with the ferals. I only know I was livin’ with them at some point. Don’t really know why, either.”

“What about your parents?”

Simon shrugged. “I can’t even remember what they looked like. I mean, they’re good and dead by now, so I guess it don’t matter that much.”

“It’s still sad.”

“Why? You starting to miss yer parents or something?”

“Fuck no,” I snapped, grinding my teeth. “Maybe sometimes, but it was bad enough being gay. If they saw me as a half-turn who’s fucking a werewolf old enough to be my grandfather, I think it actually would kill them.”

“Speaking of…” 

“Not in the woods.”

“Hey, food ain’t the only thing that draws ‘em out. They get a whiff of us doin’ the nasty, and every feral will come a’runnin’.” 

“That’s a good enough reason not to do that out here. It’s hard enough to control myself in the bedroom.”

“They’re ferals. They just fuck hard ‘n fast, and they’re done. You could handle it.”

I shot Simon a disgusted look. 

“I’m just sayin’. We could solve two problems at the same time.”

“I don’t have a problem!” I shouted, lowering my voice again. “Plus, letting a bunch of wild werewolves run a train on me isn’t going to do anything more than make me feel gross. Would you really want to see that?”

“Hell, I’d sit back and jerk to it.”

I bit my lower lip again.

“Oh, come on, Art. You gotta loosen up and stop fighting yer body. You get real cranky when you do that shit.”

“I’m not an animal.”

Simon stopped and set the box down on the ground. “I didn’t say you was.”

“This shit keeps getting implied, like I’m this insatiable sex monkey that can’t control his instincts and is only good at one thing.”

“Jeez, Art.” The werewolf pulled me into a hug. “I think yer like this because yer a bit too old to be a half-turn. I don’t know what you need,” he pulled away and pointed deeper into the woods, “but maybe they do. It’s why we’re here.”

“I thought we were here to figure out how to counter whatever Mosavi’s doing to us.”

“That too, but there’s other reasons.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What other reasons?”

Simon rubbed his hands together. “We should probably set up camp here. It’s gettin’ dark.”


Our drunken laughter echoed through the darkness of the forest, and we were really the only ones making any noise, aside from the crackling of the fire.

“And that’s not even the funniest part. He kept tryin’ to get me to fuck him, but every time he’d say something I’d tell ‘im another dad joke. I thought he was gonna turn right then and there, the way he bared his teeth and the fur on his neck shot up. I think he actually wanted to kill me.”

“You have that effect on people.”

We’d already gone through half the box of beer, and I was actually having a great time. Who’d have thought us sitting next to a warm campfire was all we needed. I leaned against Simon with one arm against his thigh, feeling rather warm on such a cold night.

“I’m not gonna lie. As annoying as he is sometimes, I feel bad for him.”

“I would have fixed that, but you told me not to do anything.” 

“Oh, not that. I definitely didn’t want you doing that. I just feel bad that he and Austin have such a shitty relationship. If Adam found out that the only reason Austin was paying him any attention was because he was under some kind of fucked-up spell and obeying my commands, he’d likely lose the rest of his temper.”

“Once he turns, they might go their separate ways, and we’ll get the house all to ourselves.”

“You sound happy about that.”

Simon cocked his head. “Ain’t that what you wanted?”

I thought about it for a moment, and a few weeks ago I would have definitely said yes, but I had grown rather attached to them. 

“It’s kinda weird. Just the thought of them leaving makes me anxious.”

“That’s pack mentality gettin’ to ya. We all get like that when we’re livin’ with other werewolves. At first it’s just a bunch of chaos, and then everyone just kinda falls into their roles. I’m obviously the leader everyone looks up to.”

I looked up at him and put the bottle of beer up to my lips. “You’re obviously drunk and delusional right now.”

“You guys’d be lost without me.”

“Alright. Tell me what the leader does?”

“Easy. The leader keeps his pack fed, gives emotional support, is someone everyone comes to depend on, is responsible—” 

Simon stopped talking, and I watched his expression go from oblivious to a sudden realization. 

“Go on.”

“Well, fuck,” he muttered, taking another gulp of beer. “Ain’t that a switch?”

“What?”

“This ain’t right at all. Ain’t never heard of a half-turn leadin’ a pack before.”

I took another drink. “Even Mosavi figured it out before you did.”

Simon reached into the box and pulled out a package of cakes. 

“How many of those have you had?”

“Uhh,” he sifted through quite a few empty wrappers. 

“Damn it, we’re not going to have enough to trade if your fat ass keeps eating!”

“But they’re so goooood.”

“Put them back.”

“Yes, alpha Art,” Simon replied sarcastically. 

“I’m not sure whether to cringe or start demanding you all call me that from now on.”

Simon howled out a laugh. “The only one that’s gonna do that is probably Austin. Adam would probably punch you in the face.”

“You’re joking, right? Adam is the twerpiest half-turn I know.”

“He’s the only half-turn you know, and he almost knocked you out earlier.” 

“He caught me by surprise. Plus, he’s close to turning, and it wasn’t exactly a fight.”

A rustle from the trees all around us stifled our conversation. We both snapped our heads toward each sound, but the ferals stayed well hidden. 

“They’re here,” Simon whispered. “Hopefully they’re friendly.”

“Well, they seemed friendly last time, so I’m sure we’re fine.”

Despite what I said, Simon still looked uneasy. 

“What’s wrong? I thought this was what we wanted.”

More branches snapped, and we could hear leaves rustling above us as well. They were still stalking us. 

“They ain’t bein’ friendly right now,” Simon whispered, holding me closer to him. “Shit.”

“Okay, you’re scaring me. How do you know they’re not friendly?”

“I kinda remember this. It’s an intimidation tactic before they attack.”

I swallowed hard. “God damn it. Why do I let you talk me into shit like this?”

“Let’s just stay calm and stay low. They want us to start runnin’ so they can chase us, and that’s the last thing we want.” Simon reached into the box and pulled out a bag of the white cheddar popcorn he brought. “Peace offering.” As another branch broke, Simon tossed the bag in that direction. 

All the surrounding rustling stopped. 

Simon and I looked at each other in silence, waiting for whatever would happen next. Several minutes passed, and despite how chilly it was, sweat beaded on my forehead before dripping onto my arms. Both of us were barely breathing as we waited anxiously for any response. 

A single set of footsteps crunched toward our camp as a large, shadowy figure with glowing red eyes stepped out of the woods, kneeling to pick up the bag while staring us down. This one wore the same garb as I remembered from my first encounter, but had a shorter mane and no braids. He also wore a leather harness decorated with raven feathers and bones while a rope-like belt loosely adorned his waist with two small leather sacks on both sides.

One of the physical features I remembered from that one werewolf were his paw-like feet, but this one had normal feet. I opened my mouth to greet him, but Simon squeezed my arm. 

“Don’t say nothin’. Let them come to us and give us a sniff. We don’t wanna make any weird noises or movements. We gotta submit to them when they get close.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you gotta lay on yer back to show ‘em respect.”

The feral werewolf ripped open the bag, furiously sniffing the contents. 

“What if they kill us?”

“They’d have done that already.” Simon stopped whispering when the werewolf started grunting something incoherent before grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it into his slobbery maw. The other werewolves emerged, another four of them. Two of them looked older, but it was hard to tell for sure at night. Older werewolves weren’t just more masculine, there was something in their eyes that always seemed more attentive. Immediately I took note of the two elders’ pawed feet. “Oh, we got ‘em now. Lay on yer back. Slowly.”

Both of us cautiously stretched out along the ground, me squeezing my eyes shut as one of them stepped closer. His hot breath pulsed against my face and neck as he knelt next to me, probing my body with his nose. The rest made their way over, sniffing both of us while making strange grunting noises at each other. 

After another minute, I felt a tap on my shoulder and my eyes snapped open as Simon hovered over me. 

“Looks like we’re in,” he said with a relieved smile as I sat up. 

The five ferals sat in a semi-circle around the fire, each one staring at us expectantly. 

“So, what now?”

“I guess we’ll see if they wanna talk.” Simon reached into the box and grabbed a bottle of beer, holding it out in front of him. “You guys, uh… wanna trade?”

The wild werewolves turned to each other before looking back at Simon with blank stares. 

“This might be tougher than I thought,” he said, setting the beer on the ground next to his leg.

“I thought you knew what you were doing.” 

“Well, they didn’t kill us, so I guess I didn’t fuck that up.”

“This is just instilling all kinds of confidence right now,” I whispered, eying the ferals as they sat rigid, still staring at us. “This is creepy.”

One of them finally stood and reached into one of the pouches that hung from a crude rope belt he wore. He pulled out a small bundle of herbs wrapped in some kind of frayed fiber and offered it to Simon while pointing to the bottle. 

“Oh yeah. This is the stuff,” he said excitedly, his tail patting the ground as he flicked the cap off the bottle and handed it to the feral in exchange for the herbs. 

“What the hell are we going to do with that?”

“Smoke it,” Simon answered, wetting his lips with his tongue while untying the twine. “Ah, damn. Don’t have a pipe, though.” He sat the herbs on the ground next to him, then reached into the box again for the package of Swiss Rolls he was about to stuff his face with earlier. 

Simon waited as each of the wild wolfmen took turns drinking from the same bottle. They didn’t seal their lips around the end; instead, pouring the contents directly onto their tongues. Their neck fur pricked up as the beverage fizzed and foamed, filling their mouths while dripping from the corners of their thin black lips.

Simon held up the cakes, and another feral on the end stood and eagerly walked over to him, saliva starting to fall in strings from his maw. The old werewolf made a gesture as though he were smoking, and the feral picked up on it right away. He reached into his own pouch and pulled out a long pipe decorated with colorful rocks. They looked like smaller cut gemstones.

In a friendly exchange, Simon took the pipe, and the wild werewolf grabbed the snacks before joining the others again. 

“This is goin’ great.” He held the pipe in one hand while pinching off some of the herbs before stuffing it into the bowl. “Yer gonna love this shit.”

“I’m not smoking some strange weed from these guys. Things are already tense enough.”

“All the more reason to get high,” Simon said, picking up a small stick before poking the end into the campfire. “Trust me. I’ve done this a lot.”

“You don’t even remember your last name, and you think I’m going to trust you on this?”

Simon pulled the flaming stick out of the fire and put it up to the pipe before lighting the herbs, drawing in deep. He coughed in fits before turning to me, his irises a bit uneven as they looked in slightly different directions. 

“That’s some goooood shit,” he said with another cough, his voice pitching a bit higher. He held the pipe in front of me. “You like weed, don’t you?”

“I know what weed is.” 

“This is just like that, kinda.” He shoved the pipe into my hand. “C’mon, Art. Stop bein’ such a mud in the stick,” he said, his words slurring to the point where I could barely understand him. 

“This could be dangerous.”

“Stop. Pipe the smoke, mud stick.”

“Christ,” I muttered, grabbing the pipe. This was a terrible idea, but Simon wasn’t going to let up, plus he wasn’t making sense anymore. After a moment of hesitation, I took a draw, which was a lot more potent than anything I’d breathed in before. The smoke tasted like burnt sage mixed with nutmeg. It irritated my lungs, sending me into a similar coughing fit Simon experienced earlier. “Oh my God, I can’t breathe. I think this is gonna kill…me….” 

The world started to melt into brilliant colors all around, and time slowed to a crawl as Simon waved his hand in front of me in slow motion. 

“How are you feeling?” Though Simon just spoke to me, that wasn’t his accent. That wasn’t even his voice. “It’s always quite riveting the first time, but you start to grow accustomed to the feeling.”

“What the fuck’s you talkin’ about,” I said, barely able to control my tongue. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I don’t see anything wrong,” Simon replied, his words becoming clearer and more astute than they’d ever been. “Sit back and enjoy the high.”

“More bubbles,” a voice from across the fire spoke. “What do trade to get more bubbles?” It was one of the ferals. Though it was broken English, I understood him perfectly. 

Simon grabbed a few more bottles from the box, holding them by the necks in front of the salivating werewolves, some still gnawing on the sweet cakes. 

“Would you take us to your alpha?”

“Damn, dude. When’d you learn to talk so good?” I asked, my brain seeming to sink more into a mire of numb stupidity. 

“I’ve always talked good,” Simon replied, patting me hard on the back before turning his attention to the ferals who were quietly discussing amongst themselves. 

“No,” one of them said. They were harder to tell apart now, despite earlier having different fur colors and patterns. “Have other things for trading.” He pulled out a few glimmering opals. “Shiny rocks for bubbles? Keep scary witches away with shiny rocks.”

“Y’all got witches out heya?” This accent seemed to get thicker and even more ridiculous the more I spoke, but I was way too baked to care anymore. 

“Many witches. Alpha say they dangerous. Some of us not come back after they find us.” He eyed the bottles, licking his chops. “Bubbles for rocks?”

Simon sighed. 

“I guess it’s a start.” He handed the bottles to the wild werewolf in exchange for the entire bag of shiny rocks. “One of you gave my friend here a shiny rock a little while ago. Can any of you tell me who that was?”

The ferals slurped down the beer, each one belching loudly while having a chuckle amongst themselves. 

“They ain’t sayin’ nothin’,” I said, watching in awe as a few neon butterflies flitted by my face. “Jeez that’s purdy. How long’s this last?”

“You’re in for one hell of a night.”

“Simon…” Though I tried to get angry, uncontrollable laughter was all I could manage. Anger resulted in laughter, and Simon sounded intelligent, while I could barely form a coherent sentence. The flames of the fire were purple and bugs around us seemed to emanate different colored bioluminescence. This wasn’t just some weed that got you high, it was as though my entire perception of reality shifted. Was this the way the ferals saw the world all the time?

“You know, sex is phenomenal while on this trip,” Simon said, reaching into my pants to grip my cock. “Every sense is heightened, and the orgasms don’t stop.”

I looked over as the feral werewolves stopped talking, each one staring eagerly at us again. 

“Naw, man. We ain’t doin’ this in front of them.”

“Trade licks for more sweet things,” one of them said, inching closer to me. “You smell good…like thick smoke from green plant.”

“What’s he talkin’ about?”

“He wants to suck your dick,” Simon said with a grin. “I told you. They’ll do anything you want for a few Little Debbie’s.”

“No need trade,” the feral said, his nose buried in my crotch. “Do this for no trade.”

“Well hot damn! We might be able to convince them to take us to their pack after all. Good thing you’re so delicious.”

“Uh, Simon—”

“Just let it happen,” he cut in, licking my neck. “They aren’t going to bring us anywhere near their pack unless they gain our trust. This is a shortcut to that.”

“I don’t know…” My cock disappeared into the feral’s mouth, his rough tongue lapping at everything while his lips sealed around me. It felt like every pleasure sensor in my body was in overdrive. “Ho-ly fuck…”

As the werewolf went to work on me, Simon gently prodded my head downward until my face was against his crotch, his own cock poking through the fluff as he got harder. He smelled so different; everything smelled and felt completely alien, like I wasn’t even in my own body anymore. 

One of the most disappointing things about having a werewolf lover was I never could fit more than the head of his dick into my mouth. I always had to give him wet handjobs, while gently biting the edges of his foreskin. He loved it when I did that. 

The heat of the moment made me forget about the other werewolves who were watching us while pleasuring themselves around the fire. It didn’t matter if they were feral or like us; they were still just as horny.  

While jerking Simon off, my eyes went up along his midsection, and I noticed a slight bump on each side of his bellybutton. 

“What the…” I said, trying to maneuver my body carefully as the werewolf below continued to work my dick between his tongue and sharp teeth. “What the hell are these?”

“I know you’re fucked up right now, but you know what nipples are?”

“What?” I shuddered as the blowjob got more intense. “Fuck, he’s really goin’ to town down there.”

“That’s because the taste of half-turn dick is irresistible to them.” He leaned in and whispered into my ear. “By the way, we all have eight nipples.”

“Are you fucking with me?” I asked, pushing the feral werewolf away as I climbed to my knees and lifted Simon’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 God,” I muttered, running my fingers over each one. “This is so damn weird!” It was then I remembered the odd set of clamps in Mosavi’s briefcase. I wondered why there were so many attached to one another. 

“More licks?” The werewolf below me asked, salivating some more as he stared at my crotch. 

“Uh, yeah. Go fer it,” I said, still playing with Simon’s extra nipples, slightly confused about whether or not I actually found this hot. “Oh fuck!” I cried out as the feral sucking me off now did so with the sole purpose of making me come as quickly as possible.

It was then that whatever I took earlier hit me the hardest. 


My head pounded as I struggled to open my eyes. Though my mouth was bone dry, I could still taste every questionably clean dick I tried to cram into my mouth last night in my fit of typical half-turn frenzy made worse by whatever Simon gave me. The memories were so hazy. The odor of semen and werewolf musk assaulted my olfactory receptors 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 may have let them do a lot more to me than oral. A nauseous feeling hit the pit of my stomach as I moved away, and a thickness filling my ass slid out with a wet thud. I was relieved for a moment to see the cock belonged to Simon, but that was short-lived. I understood what really happened last night as bits of sordid memories trickled in and out of my thoughts. 

It was moments like this that made me hate what I was. I looked up at Simon’s face, his tongue hanging from the side of his maw. Running my hands over the sides of his belly, I felt around for what I may have hallucinated. If I was imagining that, maybe I was imagining what I did… 

As my fingertips grazed one of his lower nipples, there was no more room for denial. There was no taking it back now, so I’d use this to my advantage.

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3 thoughts on “Chapter 19: A Feral High

  1. I loved this chapter. I love the details you give to these characters and how they responded to the ferals. Made me extra invested when the herbs 🌿 were brought into the mix. Can’t wait to read much more.

    Like

  2. omg i love this story but that young teeny halfturn …and his kuumate …forgot their name sry they both diserve some actual peace and love so maybe once arth and simon meet the feral packs alpha he should make the other wolf open up to his kuumate some more so the boy will mellow out a little bit hmmm
    and to tease/torture those two maybe Arth should call his boss lady and ask her for her sisters nummber so the boys parents could try talking via phonecall at least and they give their son a waaay to long overdue parenthal talk even demanding to meet their sons chosen werewolf boyfriend wanting to get to know him
    pretty much a ”we won’t hate your boyfriend we JUST WANNA TALK” situation >:3

    Like

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