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WritingGroupChallenge: Misheard Lyrics Story

Inspired by Cold Chisel's "Red Wine and a Three Day Growth" misheard as "Red Wine and a Teenage Goat"

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Red Wine and a Teenage Goat

© Cederwyn Whitefurr

28** th **** February, 2024**

All Rights Reserved.

Finn had been in college exactly one week when he found himself in the back of a pickup truck, clutching a cheap bottle of wine like it was a life preserver. The frat boys had insisted. He was, after all, one of them now—or at least, he had been deemed interesting enough to be dragged along to Omega Delta Psi’s infamous Friday night party.

It was the wolves, mostly—big, broad-shouldered, beer-chugging, testosterone-fueled beasts that took up half the football team. Finn, a slight and elegantly built buck, had no business being here. He’d spent high school writing poetry and sighing dramatically in coffee shops. He was delicate, fawn-spotted even at nineteen, and had a voice just lilting enough that his freshman dorm mates had immediately labelled him the deer twink, despite being an angora buck goat.

So naturally, being manhandled into the cab of a truck by a bunch of howling, rowdy, oversized wolves was not how he’d envisioned his night.

“Drink up, Bambi!” called a towering gray wolf named Connor, tossing an arm around Finn’s shoulders like they’d known each other for years. “You’re gonna need it.”

Finn raised a brow but took a sip. The wine was terrible, the cheap kind that tasted more like regret than grapes.

*

The Frat House of Debauchery

The house was a disaster zone of booze, bad decisions, and far too many shirtless canines. Someone had already broken a couch. There was a makeshift wrestling ring set up in the backyard, where two particularly massive wolves were body-slamming each other to the hoots of the crowd. Music blared so loudly that the walls vibrated. Finn was fairly sure the air itself was sticky with spilled beer.

“Oh, the freshman goat made it!” someone called, slapping him on the back.

“Buck,” Finn corrected, trying not to spill his drink.

“Close enough,” the wolf snorted, ruffling his ears. Finn let out an undignified huff.

Despite himself, he was intrigued. Finn had a type, and that type was big, confident, and could probably throw him over a shoulder without breaking a sweat. And from the looks of it, he was currently surrounded by an entire pack of his exact fantasy.

A few drinks in, and Finn found himself accidentally pressed up against a very large, very smug wolf named Logan, who smirked down at him with clear amusement.

“You don’t really party much, do you, little buck?” Logan rumbled, his tone half-mocking, half-curious.

Finn, feeling bold, tilted his head. “No, but I’m a fast learner.”

*

A Night of Poor Decisions (That Finn Was Very Happy About)

What followed was a blur of reckless choices.

There was a drinking game Finn had absolutely no chance of winning, which resulted in him being hoisted onto someone’s shoulders while the entire frat chanted “ONE OF US! ONE OF US!” A poorly thought-out game of spin the bottle had Finn lip-locked with a golden-furred alpha who smelled like cedar and whiskey. And at some point—he wasn’t sure exactly when—he found himself draped across the biggest, broadest couch in the house, surrounded on all sides by massive, heat-radiating wolves.

It was a dream. A fever dream of warm hands, teasing grins, and the kind of attention Finn had definitely fantasized about but never thought he’d actually experience.

“I think we broke him,” Connor chuckled, running a lazy hand through Finn’s dishevelled fur.

“Not yet,” Logan smirked. “But we could.”

Finn gasped, his amber eyes widening as a smile spread across his muzzle.

"Oh, you think you're all wolf enough for me?" Finn inquired, placing a pale hand on his now shirtless chest.

"Think?" Logan growled mock-threateningly, his tail slowly wagging from side to side. "Think? No... DO...yes.

Finn, despite himself, let out a breathless laugh. He wasn’t even sure how he’d ended up here, but he was definitely not complaining.

*

The Morning After (Or, How Finn Became a Mascot)

Finn woke up in a tangle of limbs, fur, and what he was pretty sure was someone’s football jersey thrown over him like a blanket. He was wrecked—utterly, deliciously exhausted. Every muscle in his body ached in the best possible way, and he was pretty sure he could still taste some of last night’s encounters on his lips.

His blurry vision swam as he clutched a hand to his muzzle, then peeled off a ribbed, used condom, that'd been carelessly draped over his muzzle. The lube had almost dried and he winced as he felt some of his fine hairs come off with the prophylactic.

He hurt, but in ways he'd only dreamed about. His body burned and ached, from his throat to his tail, intertwined with the heavy rock concert that felt like was happening within his skull, thanks to the excessive drinking and the hangover from hell.

So worth it... Finn's mind dredged up the thoughts.

Even thinking hurts...

A deep, rumbling laugh made him crack open an eye. Logan, still half-asleep, grinned down at him. “Morning, mascot.”

Finn groaned. “Mascot?”

“Oh yeah,” Connor smirked from the other side. “You’re ours now.”

Finn sprawled in the aftermath of what was undoubtedly the best (and most physically intense) night of his life, just sighed dramatically and let himself be pulled back into the warmth of the pack.

Maybe college wouldn’t be so bad after all.

"Oh, we're not done with you, little Bambi," the alpha's low growl filled Finn's ears. "Let us hydrate and we'll really show you a good time, being pack comes with its privileges after all..."

Finn swallowed, his eyes going as wide as the full moon as the low rumbles and snickers of the other wolves filled the air. They closed in around him, their presence both thrilling and intimidating, making his pulse race in ways that had nothing to do with fear. He felt the weight of their attention, like a tangible force pressing in from every side, but in the best possible way.

A lump formed in his aching throat, but he swallowed it down, his body still burning from the night before. With a deep breath, he straightened, adopting a cocky, self-assured attitude that even surprised him. His eyebrow arched in challenge as he met the pack’s gaze, his voice teasing yet daring.

“Whose first?”

END