Work Text:
It doesn’t take long for the pack to find you. You’re not exactly hiding. You know good and well, just like everyone in this small town, to stay out of these woods on the full moon, to stick to the paths. To stay especially far from the inhuman tracks that lead off-trail. To go running for cover if you find yourself in a clearing filled with food trash and animal bones. No one has ever specifically told you not to lay down in that clearing gazing up at the stars and waiting, but you can probably guess it’s a bad idea.
Well, different people have different definitions of “bad.”
They’re on you all at once. One minute your vision is filled with stars, the next it’s blocked by a blur of fur and teeth and claws. There’s three of them, at least, maybe more; you can tell because of the number of clawed inhuman hands tearing at your clothes, the number of mouths nipping at your neck.
The first bite is anticlimactic; you can’t tell whether that rip in your leg was from a tooth or a claw. The second, third, and next bunch probably come the same way. But the first bite you notice, the one you’ll remember as your First Bite, is teeth sunk into your neck.
He looks at you as he bites you. His eyes are a piercing violet. When you meet his gaze and smile, his eyes widen, like he wasn’t expecting that.
He spits you out and snarls and nips at the others. They fight on top of you for a minute, claws scrabbling on your flesh for purchase, then eventually retreat. They’re bipedal, just like the legends say, with eerie half-man half-wolf faces. All four--you had thought there were three, but yeah, it was hard to tell--of them are shirtless. Three wear pants that look torn to shreds. The one staring at you doesn’t. His cock looks like none you’ve ever seen before; bigger and thicker than any tdick you’ve encountered, smaller than any other cock. A single drip of arousal falls from his exposed pussy.
Words force their way into their mind, painfully, one at a time, growled, animalistic. WHY - DID - YOU - COME.
You groan and clutch your head, sitting up. This must be how they communicate with each other, but it’s harder to communicate with you--you’re not in the pack, and it’s hard for you to understand them. “I want to join you,” you say.
YOU - COULD - HAVE - DIED - WE - COULD - HAVE - KILLED - YOU.
“A risk I was willing to take.” You meet his eyes. He’s foaming at the mouth. He looks hungry. For you?
“There’s nothing for me in the human world,” you continue. “This is all I want. All I’ve ever wanted.”
THE - CHANGE - HURTS - MAKES - YOU - HUNGRY - MAKES YOU -
And instead of a word he gives you a feeling. It’s an intense rush of arousal that spikes between your legs and burns impossibly, painfully strong. You squeeze your thighs together and gasp. It takes every ounce of your willpower to keep from shoving your hand down your pants and rubbing yourself to completion right in front of all of them.
“I don’t care,” you choke out, as the feeling fades. “I don’t care what it takes. I want to be one of you. I want to join the pack.”
He growls, but it sounds approving somehow. They all step back, and wait, intermittently licking their lips. The full moon glistens on your body.
For a few moments, nothing happens. You wonder if there’s anything else you need to do, some ritual you need to complete, when all of a sudden a screaming flash of pain tears through you. You scream and fall to the ground. The pain keeps ripping its way across your whole body, and you’re tearing off your clothes as you cry out. You need the cold of the dirt. You need to bury your face in it. You need--you need--
You need to be touched.
“Someone come here,” you groan. “Please!”
Your face is still buried in the dirt, so you can’t see whose cool, furry hand is rubbing your back, whose hot breath and saliva are coating the back of your neck. Before you can ask, the physical changes start to come on. Your hair falls out in clumps from your head and body until you’re completely nude and bald. You can’t process that for long before in iits place, fur erupts out of you all at once, like needles pushing out of you in patches all over your body.
Your ears retract into your body, and your wolf-ears push out from the top of your head. You can hear better than ever before. God knows how far away, a deer snaps a twig. Somewhere else, a raccoon snores. It’s overwhelming, and your hands go to your head to cover them, just as your snout pushes forward painfully from your face and all of a sudden you can smell. . If you’d ever thought you were able to smell before, you were mistaken. You can smell the scent profile on each werewolf in the clearing--the fur, the sweat, the thick musk of their bodies, concentrated between each of their legs. You want to bury your snout in the werewolf rubbing your back and just smell him, just take him in.
Your teeth elongate, curl into fangs, and you chomp the air a few times; you could really do some damage. Your legs alter subtly to carry the new weight of you. You try to scream, and it comes out as a howl, as your insides rearrange themselves, causing new worlds of pain to ripple through you. Claws sprout from the ends of your hands, scrabbling at the dirt in pain until you’ve dug two holes. And you’re hungry. So hungry. You could eat a whole plate of eggs and pancakes and chicken and ice cream. You could eat a dead deer, freshly killed, bloodstains on the ground beneath it. You’re too far gone to be unnerved by how appetizing that sounds right now.
And the final change happens between your legs. The pain starts to subside as your tdick swells, and swells more and more. It grows until it looks like the violet-eyed werewolf’s. Blood rushes to it, and it throbs. You think it’s going to explode right off your body until you realize what you’re feeling is arousal, stronger than you’ve ever felt, ten times stronger.
You reach down for yourself, but your claws are too sharp; trying to rub it the way you’re used to draws blood. The feeling is fiery, painful, and you can’t do anything about it. You whimper, turn over and start rutting against the dirt, needing friction, something, anything to press against your cock and give you that release.
You feel something lifting your legs. It must be the werewolf who was rubbing your back. You whine and struggle--you need to be touched, you NEED TO BE TOUCHED, he’s taking you away from your one source of relief--until you feel his tongue swirl around your cock. You relax, and let him take the full length of you in his mouth. He sucks you dutifully as your hips buck against his face. You feel his sharp teeth against your cock, and he scratches hard up the inside of your legs. That’s going to leave a mark tomorrow, you know.
More. You need more. You need him to keep going, because it’s the best you’ve ever felt in your fucking life, his mouth on your cock, your cock swelling against him and pressing into all the soft and sharp parts of his mouth, but you also need something inside you right now or you’re going to die. You whimper more, and spread your legs, looking behind you to see who’s going to take you.
It’s the violet-eyed werewolf who approaches you. Your eyes widen--how’s he going to fuck you? He closes his eyes and appears to strain himself, and slowly but surely, his cock extends, growing to an impressive length and girth and dripping a little precum.
Can you do that?
Before you can try, his hands are on your ass and then he’s in your cunt. He doesn’t bother with teasing or gentleness, only shoves his full length inside you hard enough to make you cry out. He fucks you roughly, fast and hard, as the other continues sucking. He makes unearthly grunting noises as he shoves himself in and out of you, and rakes his claws down your back. The other swirls his tongue around your cock before taking its full length again, sucking hard. They keep going, one pounding and one sucking, until you feel something building inside you. You try to tell them, but the only noises you’re capable of producing are guttural moans and gasps. You come screaming, bucking your hips and scrabbling at the dirt.
They don’t stop. Don’t even make any pretense of stopping. The werewolf inside you probably couldn’t stop if he tried; you can tell by the desperation in his thrusts that he needs this. The one sucking your cock just grips your thighs and sucks harder, through your orgasm, past your orgasm.
But that’s good. You still want more. You make an animal noise that, to a trained ear, might sound like “more.”
The werewolves fucking you reposition themselves. The violet-eyed werewolf slides out of you and in the next breath slides into your asshole, drawing a sudden, sharp howl from you. But it feels so good. He slides against a spot that’s new to you. Did the change give you a prostate? You’re too busy greedily shoving your hips back against him to care.
The werewolf who was sucking you repositions himself under you, moving you around like a toy. He slides his hard cock into your dripping wet cunt and begins to fuck you from beneath, in time with the violet-eyed one. As he does he bites down on your shoulder. You’re so full, so full, and it feels so good you bury your snout in the dirt and cry out.
You feel your head being lifted, and claws pry your mouth open. Seconds later it’s filled with hairy cock. You don’t have time to think, you just start sucking, which quickly becomes choking and gagging; he’s shoving himself all the way down your throat. You let out a whimper as all of your holes are filled at once.
The other two inside you don’t let up, and your body feels like it’s being moved in all different directions, but you want to try something. You concentrate as hard as you can on your cock. Sure enough, it thickens and grows; more and more blood rushes to it until your huge erection is rubbing against the bottom werewolf’s soft, hairy stomach with every thrust. Your hips move even more urgently in rhythm with the two fucking your bottom holes. Every time you move it gives you more friction on your cock. It’s still, somehow, not enough.
You wrap one hand around your cock--careful of your claws--and begin jerking off as you’re filled and fucked by three very enthusiastic werewolves. You feel a clawed hand roughly grab your free wrist, and you’re palming yet another cock; the last werewolf must have finally gotten involved. You’re less careful with this one; it’s so hard to be careful when all you can feel is movement and lust and desire and cock, but he doesn’t seem to mind when your claws scrape his base. In fact, he lets out a howl. You take that as encouragement and stroke him faster.
All you can hear is howling and grunting and whimpering. All you can smell is musk and fur and sweat. All you can feel is the five cocks filling up your holes and hands, and white-hot pleasure spreading through your whole body from the base of your cock. The werewolves are too far gone in animal desire to speak; all they can do is fuck, and that would be all you could do, too, even if your mouth wasn’t filled with cock.
But you can catch snippets of quick thoughts aimed in your direction, like the earlier, painful thoughts but this time painless and much easier to understand:
Good boy.
Take it.
Tight. So tight.
Squeeze me more.
Harder.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Motherfucker.
It’s so much. It’s too much. You’re going to come again, already. It’s too soon; you know they’re going to keep fucking you until they’re satisfied, no matter how spent you are, but you just can’t stop furiously stroking your cock, can’t stop rocking your hips back and forth to take all of your werewolf lovers. You feel your pussy squeeze the cock inside you more tightly, that familiar building sensation happening all too quickly. You’re finally able to wrench your hand away to try to delay the inevitable, but it’s pointless; your cock still rubs against that soft, soft furry stomach, and it feels so good, too good, too overwhelmingly good, and you’re coming, thick sticky ropes shooting from your cock and coating both you and the werewolf underneath you. You can’t even apologize, you’re still choking and gagging on cock.
None of them make any pretense of stopping, just as you feared. It’s too much, it’s overstimulating, you can’t keep taking this much cock for much longer. Already you’re oversensitive, your cock aching as it keeps rubbing against the werewolf under you. Your holes are feeling sore and stretched. But they won’t stop pounding you. All you can do is keep stroking, keep sucking, keep bucking your hips and wait for them to come one by one.
The violet-eyed one, the one in your asshole, is the first to buckle. He digs his teeth into the back of your neck and pounds you more urgently, more aggressively. You cry out around the cock in your mouth, but he doesn’t stop, biting down so hard he’s drawing blood and moaning into the bite. Suddenly he stiffens and releases your neck to let out a low growl right in your wolf-ear. You feel him emptying himself inside you, pump after pump of cum filling you up. When he finally, finally pulls out, it drips out of you, onto the werewolf beneath you.
That must set something off in him, because now he’s digging his claws into your hips hard and bouncing you up and down on his cock. The motion makes your head bob up and down awkwardly on the cock in your mouth; the werewolf you’re sucking snarls and grabs your head with both hands, holding it in place so he can facefuck you more effectively. The werewolf in your cunt is too far gone to notice or care what’s going on with your head, jamming you down onto his cock so forcefully you feel like you’re about to be ripped in two. When he comes, he lets out a long whine and doesn’t alter his rhythm at all, letting your sore cunt milk him through his orgasm. You feel his sticky cum dripping down your legs, and finally he pulls out.
You realize you still want something against you, and whine around the cock in your mouth, rutting against the werewolf beneath you. Dutifully he positions his soft cock against your hardening one, and dutifully you rock back and forth against it, bringing yourself closer and closer to the edge again. You distantly feel ropes of cum shooting down your mouth, and hear howling and growling; moan through a moment of empty mouth, then feel it filled up again by the cock of the werewolf you’d been stroking. He’s bigger, muskier, and your eyes are watering with the effort of sucking him. But you’re going to do a good job. You’re going to be a good boy. You’re going to make him come.
No--you’re going to come together, you realize, when his whines get more high-pitched as you rut furiously at the soft cock beneath you. The werewolf under you encourages you, stroking your back-fur and growling a noise that might be “good boy” or “good whore,” definitely something good. You’re gasping and choking on his thick cock, and you’re coming, and he’s coming. Thick cum fills your mouth and runs down your throat. He doesn’t give you a chance to spit; you’re drinking it all down. Just as he’s finishing, he shoves his cock into you hard one last time and you’re coming again, re-dirtying the belly and cock of the werewolf underneath you with fresh stickiness.
To say you’re spent would be an understatement. You’ve come three times, and your asshole and cunt are still dripping down your legs. You roll off the werewolf under you, stare up at the stars just as you did at the beginning. You realize you don’t know any of the pack’s names, who they are when the moon isn’t full. They could be anyone. They could be no one.
One by one, they pile on top of you, and you can do nothing but pass out.
The next thing you know, sunlight is filtering through the trees. You’re surrounded by bare-skinned, naked men, sporting an assortment of cocks and pussies. There’s worse ways you’ve woken up.
“Morning, sunshine,” the violet-eyed one greets you. “Had your fill?”
You reach for his cunt. “No.”