How to Calm Your Werewolf
If anyone says they don't love a state fair at least a little bit, I think they're a liar. There's something so lovably trashy about a late-summer afternoon with wheedling notes of music and echoes of announcements and smells of sickeningly-satisfying junk food all swirling in the air. Especially with a handsome black-and-blue wolf strolling by my side through it all, I couldn't think of anything more innocuously amusing and peaceful.
I looked over fondly at Elliott as he gnawed on the stick that used to hold a corn dog, to get that last really crunchy bit of breading off there. He was so cute when he concentrated like that. I purposely fell a step behind him to glance down and appreciate his plump ass in his jean shorts. Damn if I ain't lucky to have such a well-filled-out wolfer for my own. Even when it was nerve-wracking to deal with the times he filled out even further...
I guess you could say he's kind of a werewolf, even though he's already an anthro wolf. Sometimes he just changes. It's something to do with his bloodline, whether it's rumored that he inherited actual werewolf blood, or if it's just a hormonal condition that flares up under certain pressures and conditions.
Thankfully, we've learned how to keep it under control, since medications and suppressors have proven fruitless, and we've learned what causes it, though it can be slightly unpredictable. And thankfully, even when he's "that way", he's never intentionally hurt anyone or done anything really dangerous. Mostly just roars and lumbers around clumsily. Eats every food item in sight. Rips his own clothes to shreds no matter where he is. That sort of thing.
It's more of just a headache to explain to police than anything. Everyone thinks they're in terrible danger but it just creates a scene and it's tough to bring him back down. Though the most surefire way to get him back to normal...let's just say that causes even more of a scene. At least it did when he masturbated furiously in front of a packed lecture hall in college. Actually, come to think of it, he and I met in that class...
None of it was on my mind though; it was such a pleasant and sedate day at the fair, a constant low swirl of dust down near our feet and a muted sun smiling benignly overhead. I was enjoying an ice cream cone myself, the perfect kind with the thin crispy waffle cone, and plopped into it was of course my favorite ice cream flavor: mint chocolate. The coolness of the mint as I swirled my tongue around the crown of the cone was refreshing and almost sensual.
My mind drifted happily, my tongue coated in minty coolness and my eyes watching my boyfriends' ass shift side to side in his pants. I only wished we could hold hands as we aimlessly wandered and saw the sights...but that would be a little much for a staid Midwestern city, sadly.
I only noticed something odd when I realized I had been daydreaming while looking up at the blankly blue sky, and when I looked down and to my right, Elliott was no longer in front of me. I had passed him by a few feet, so I turned around with my ears quirked.
He was standing still, every muscle tensed, his eyes focused sharply on nothing. He had The Look.
I moaned out loud and scampered back to him, facing him and daring a rub on his forearm. "Elliott. Listen. Not now, okay? Think about something else. We can go get some more food, you'll be fine. Elliott?" I squeezed his taut arm, but his eyes still stared into the distance. He emitted a low growl and his upper lip lifted. Ohhhhhh shit. I realized with a hot feeling in my stomach that we hadn't had sex yesterday and we'd been packing for the fair before bed.
I plucked the wooden corn-dog stick from Elliott's hand and glanced around, my panic rising. The line of food trucks wasn't terribly busy since it was between normal lunch and dinner hours, but there were still plenty of people bustling by. It occurred to me that at least we were on the very edge of the park, so that behind the food trucks there was nothing but a fence facing the trees.
It would have to do.
I discarded the corn-dog stick and the remainder of my cone in the closest trash can, feeling a momentary pang for the lost ice cream, while I tried to steadily guide an increasingly growling and convulsing Elliott to the gap between the nearest food trucks without drawing attention to ourselves. Maybe they'll think he's about to be sick and no one will want to come check...
There was a metal fold-up chair sitting behind the truck. Shit, probably for when the cook takes smoke breaks. Hopefully this could get under control, and fast.
Elliott gnashed his teeth and snarled as I fumbled with his shorts button. I could tell he was fighting it, his arms twitching and fists clenching at his sides, but his muscles all over were spasming...and GROWING. He's told me it doesn't really hurt when he's switching over, but his grunts and strained growls while his body bulks out always alarm me. He has a very average build usually, a little taller than me and just thick enough to have meat on his bones, but when he changes, oh boy. He pops out to over 7 feet tall, and his strength and size become beastlike. He still retains an anthro demeanor, mostly lumbering on his feet, which lengthen to digitigrade, but his arms are just as powerful and his hunched frame makes it easy for him to clamber on all fours.
"Shittttt Elliott, come on baby, keep it together. You got this. I'll give you what you need for a little bit and it'll all stop, you'll be back to normal and we'll go home soon okay? Just...let me...erghhhhHHH--" I finally wrestled his pants open at the exact same time a ripping spasm crumpled him to his knees, and pushed me over with him.
I held back an exclamation of surprise and mild pain from the tumble, trying desperately to keep quiet. I scrambled over to him, another moan escaping me at seeing him hunched over and clutching his stomach as his muscles rippled and almost audibly creaked in the beginning stages of growth. For now, his noises were mixed small snarls and croons.
Sounds of the fair wafted around us from the other side of the converted trailer, seeming a dimension away despite their very real closeness. I set to work again, shushing and calming his through his shaking while I tugged the sides of his shorts down. "Lift up just a little bit for me, come on, that's right, yes..." His body and breath were unnaturally hot and I could feel his whole being pulsing with barely-contained feral vitality. It was worse than I thought.
I managed to push his heaving form upward and scoot him onto the flimsy chair. Finally I had the room and leverage to really lower his shorts and boxers. His penis sprang out alarmingly, already looking swollen beyond his usual size, and his testicles visibly rolled and clenched in their sack as I exposed more and more of his legs. He was clutching the sides of the metal chair with hands that rippled and cracked. His fingernails were already longer and sharper.
I didn't wait a single second too long to hone in on the exact cause of this whole ordeal, and the exact cure for it. As soon as I got his shorts down to his shins, I tugged his thighs toward me, knelt forward, and with no hesitation I buried my snout up under his scrotum and locked my lips on his asshole.
The noise he made was similar to a soft bark. And then a low growl deep in his gut. I almost immediately felt his tremors lessen.
Elliott's asshole has to be kept happy and attended to regularly, or he literally turns into a feral-minded wolfbeast.
Of course, I'm always more than happy to oblige this regimen, since he has a fantastic ass as I mentioned before, and his hole is always warm, friendly, tasty, and accommodating. I loved pulling his pants down and giving him a toy, or my fingers, or even my dick for an hour or two a night while he plays video games I'm not interested in, or we watch a movie. I'm on very good and open terms with his butthole and it makes me happy to be able to keep his condition in check in such a romantic and intimate way. It's just that, despite my fantasies of everyone enjoying the sight of his nudity and anal vulnerability the way I do, I wished it wasn't so dangerously close to coming true at the local carnival...
I sucked and lapped and smooched and rubbed my mouth all over and around his big, wide (and still widening) anus in all the ways I knew he liked, trying to make up for a lost day in a few seconds. The characteristically blue-ish fur around his butthole and other sensitive bits was slightly damp with sweat from moseying around the fair in the sun, and it was as delicious as any of the fatty fried food we'd devoured that day. In fact, my lips and tongue still felt cool and minty from the ice cream I'd ditched only a couple of minutes ago, and the contrast of his warm pulsing asshole pressing onto them instead made me shiver.
As Elliott's chesty growling gave way to panting, I involuntarily "mmff"ed into his hole, getting into my work with both practiced professionalism and nervous urgency. His legs were still spasming on either side of my head, but he was doing a good job of keeping them spread for me, so I took a hand off one of his thighs and reached it up to grab the base of his now-extremely-fat member, soothingly massaging the root of his penis while I orally attacked his asshole.
I rolled my lips around the rim and then sucked HARD directly on the center of the fleshy pucker. His whole body tensed at that and I heard small pinging sounds from the metal of the chair denting and warping where he was grabbing on. His legs quivered, and so did his asshole. I could feel his pulse on my mouth through the deeply-wrinkled reddish skin of his anus. My own palm trembled against his black-furred thigh muscles.
I held the pressure between my lips for over half a minute before I even thought about releasing it...but just when I thought it was really working and Elliott's metamorphosis was going to start to subside, he convulsed and arched his back, and I even felt his asshole twitch rapidly, and the ridges started to thicken and grow just as I knew they do whenever he's getting worse. Fuck.
"Come onnnnnn babe, keep fighting it, lemme have your asshole, I've got you..." I murmured to him, no idea if he could hear me through his own straining, and also because I was basically muttering directly into his butthole. I squeezed around his shaft again, now barely able to close my thumb and forefinger around its girth. His nuts felt like they were positively vibrating with virile life on my nose.
I heard him trying to whisper something, the words cracking hoarsely out of his throat. "Hehhhh...help...help me...help me...Joshhhhhhh..."
He needed more. Fuck, he needed more. I wasn't going to be able to just suck off his asshole to get him to regress. The fingers of my right hand joined my mouth in rubbing around his anal furrows while my left hand held the bottom of his dong and helped lift his burgeoning scrotum out of the way.
The full crater of his asshole between the outer edges of his rim was now over an inch wide. God, his butthole got so big and fleshy when he transformed like this. It'd be incredibly hot if it wasn't so scary. I was becoming acutely aware of the minutes passing by. If this didn't get under control very soon, we'd have a serious situation on our hands. And our butts.
As large and welcoming as his asshole now was, it was no trouble to fully sink two fingers into his rectum, especially with the salival slickness on and around his rear entrance. As soon as I slid my fingers into him back there, his cock hardened in my hand until the flesh felt like smooth warm marble and I felt the vibration throughout his whole body as he desperately clenched back on a repressed "Wroooooo!!!!" sound. Come onnnnn, big guy, you can beat this thing...
I started really working his hole with my fingers, getting my whole arm and wrist involved to stir up his asshole and pump into it as deep and steady as I could while he writhed. He was now using his feet to push himself upward while still death-clutching the base of the chair, so his ass cheeks were fully off the metal surface and clenching wantonly around my fingers in the air. His buttocks had also swelled in size and powerfulness, and I felt a thrill that I was almost used to by now: the morbid fear of what he was becoming and how close I was to it, mixed with the almost nauseating level to which it turned me on.
I stared up at him in blank awe as I worked my fingers in and around his strong, muscular anus in ruthless motions, swirling and stabbing and shaking them furiously. His dick swung fearsomely above my head, probably nine inches long at this point and fully the girth of a beer can. His thighs and shins were corded with stone-solid muscle.
But...did it seem like the edge was slowing? Wouldn't he usually have clawed his shirt off by now and been on the rampage? His breathing was intense but didn't have the snarl of complete abandon in it. He was nearly motionless except for his chest heaving in great stormy rolls. I didn't dare stop fingering him though. I had to be sure.
I was not prepared for him to suddenly collapse downward and crumble onto me, draping his beefy arms over my shoulders and slumping slackly into an awkward embrace. My hand was still beneath his undercarriage though, and I quickly resumed my fingers' motions in his rectum, intermittently pulling out to rub smoothly around the edges of his butthole.
"Josh...ugh..." he chuffed roughly, and I could feel he was already much less tense. Still shaking, but not rippling with change anymore. He was coming down.
Relief made my entire body tingle. I kept soothing his anal opening with my fingers, around and around his bloated rim and occasionally firmly dipping inside him. His bare blue-haired scrotum now lolled loosely on my forearm, the skin wrinkled and slowly relaxing. The heft of his testicles resting on my wrist was actually quite pleasant for me too, and in the moment of respite I closed my eyes and almost began purring. The sounds of people and music, the clanking and rushing machinery of rides, the sizzle and smell of food cooking, all seeped back into the periphery of my consciousness. The knowledge that it'd soon be over made the return of awareness feel a little giddy rather than the looming threat the fair in general had posed only moments ago.
My own ass clenched in surprise and horror as a door in the back of the trailer we were hunkered behind squeaked open. "Hey! What the hell're you...DOING?!?!" A tubby, brown-and-gray-speckled wolverine in a grossly stained white apron goggled at us in fury at first, then in disbelief as he got a full view of my boyfriend's bare ass with my two fingers shoved right up the meaty hole in the middle. Sure enough, the cook had a clipped cigar already in his mouth. Of all the poor timing to leave the grill and step out back for some fresh air and a smoky treat...
In blind panic, I tugged my fingers from Elliott's wet, sloppy, throbbing asshole and pushed him upright onto his haunches before the wolverine could get TOO much of a view of my wolf's open butthole pulsating in time with his gasping breaths. "UH SORRY SIR, WE JUST HAD TO--"
"I'm calling the fucking cops on you weirdos, I sw--"
A terrible bear-like roar interrupted both of us. Black and blue blocked the sun from my eyes.
The cessation of the calming stimulus for even a few seconds at the critical moment had reversed all the good I'd done. Elliot grew almost gracefully to his full glory, the fabric of his shirt ripping in several places. His jaw lengthened and his tongue dangled out of it, his face wrenched up powerfully but seeming to grin. He leapt to his now-digitigrade feet, immediately balancing nimbly on his huge splayed toes. A thickened and strengthened tail lashed behind him and knocked the puny metal chair several feet aside. My wolf now dwarfed even the portly wolverine cook, whose cigar had fallen forgotten from his mouth at the majestic sight of the bare-assed beast in front of him.
Throwing back his head and letting out an primal roaring howl at the sedate mid-afternoon sky, Elliott grasped the tatters of his t-shirt with his fully-formed claws and flung them in shreds off his surging torso. Then, dropping to all fours and kicking away the shorts that were now far too small to even pull up his thighs, he clambered away past the wolverine, between the trucks, and out into the fair.
In moments, the stunned cook and I were staring out between the same two trailers as a fully naked werewolf rampaged happily among the screaming crowd, snarling as he snatched their funnel cakes and french fries and gulped them down his gullet with glee. His orange-sized testicles and fully eggplant-equivalent dong wagged and flopped flaccidly in the free air, and his thickly furred and muscled ass cheeks still did nothing to hide the clenching folds of his anus nestled between them.
I groaned and rubbed my head before resignedly walking out to where three security officers were already closing on the scene, two of them with clubs already drawn.
Maybe instead of explaining the situation to them and letting the beast-phase ride itself out under supervision off the fairgrounds, I should have just told them a more efficient and equally problem-solving use of those thick wooden batons.