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It was the first night of the convention that I first heard from the wolf. I'd sent a message that I was around and asked if he had any plans for me. He told me folks would be hanging around a bit later. Once my friends and I had hit a lull in all that we wanted to check out, I messaged him again. I got a bit of a lukewarm response that they were hanging out, but I did my best to not feel discouraged.

After gathering up my confidence, I headed over. And when I messaged him at the door, it began to open. Slowly, his bulky frame appeared. He was a wolf but had a sort of width to him that made him seem even more huge, every feature of him. Yet as the imposing wolf smirked at the door in only some shorts, he was met by the sound of a chipper little rabbit!

"Fen!" I shouted, eager and excited. I must have been quite the sight. In sharp contrast to the barely covered, massive, gruff wolf, I was about as dainty as could be. I wore a cute top, a frilly skirt, a pink jacket, a garter, and lace thigh highs. I looked a bit more like someone trying to harken back to baroque sensibilities than a rabbit showing up to a wolf's den.

But he welcomed me in with a smile and let me inside. He likely had eyes on me, but I was busy taking in the scenery. It was a big room but not crowded, with only a couple of friends chit-chatting on couches. "It's a little low-key tonight," he'd say over music playing. I wondered what other nights would be like then. I wasn't really aware of any plan; in fact, he seemed reluctant to really fill me in. I was supposed to show up and go along for the ride.

It was lowly lit and had some videos playing, making the space look a bit more like a nightclub. There was a sex swing in the corner, which made me a bit flustered just seeing it in a hotel room. I awkwardly mumbled some greetings to people, some of which were wearing little more than harnesses and masks.

But I still did my best. I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was the only girl there, too. See, this was a bit more the BDSM crowd, and I knew most of them tended to be gay or bi. But I wasn't bothered by that at all.

I'd made a giggling comment to the wolf that I felt overdressed, offering a nervous grin. He showed his large fangs in return and said, "We'll see what the night holds." This only got more of a giggle out of me. I joked, "Why do I only like guys who talk like Bond villains sometimes." It seemed it was his turn to look a bit bashful, his eyes rolling to the side.

And I perked a bit as I watched him. Honestly, it was kind of wild thinking a bunny like me could embarrass such a big wolf. My smirk was playful and confident as I let myself just gaze around. The people here were handsome. Big, burly guys, mostly wolves but with dogs and others thrown in. I snickered a bit, imagining what it would be like to flirt, hell if I would have even had the guts to say hello...

But how to do so? I found myself sort of gazing around as I made chit-chat with the wolf. Of course, he was a good host and would occasionally plant someone in front of me, usually deflecting that person's interest in talking to him. And I made small talk with people who seemed polite but not interested in my company, but it was not a bother. However, eventually, I heard a name.

"Lupen!"

By this point, I'd already taken a few sips of my whiskey on the rocks. The selection wasn't exactly fancy, but at least it wasn't children's booze. Decent. But this name woke me up a bit. I remember peeking my head. Now, this wasn't a normal name, but it wasn't an unheard-of thing for a wolf to have a wolfish nickname. But the particular "en" sound jumped at me because of only heard the name in one context.

"Lupen? Lupen what?" I asked, kind of surprising myself by being so bold as to ask that of a party. I don't really know what came over me because surely nothing could come of this.

"Oh, Lupen Wind, he's an old friend," says Fen. My heart skips a beat as I try to remember. It isn't. Is it? Could it be? Now, this feels far too bizarre; what kind of coincidence was this. "Like... the novelist?" The words sort of rolled out of my mouth ungracefully, my face seeming stupefied. I saw, then, the man being regarded, my head darting toward him in time to watch him sort of cringe. His head cocked back slightly, and to me, it was almost slow motion as he snickered. "I... guess I have written," came his voice.

Now perhaps I had just done something awkward; in fact, I'm sure in any other situation, I would have felt deeply embarrassed. But there before me was a person I had never even considered meeting. It wasn't that I was a fan, but rather that I had been a fan. This was the writer who wrote novels I was addicted to as a teenager.

Now, I understand his reaction. In truth, I hadn't exactly been keeping up. As an adult, I was never really a big reader, being too social and busy to sit for very long. I hated being alone, and I managed my life such that I never would be. So reading books isn't really a thing for me. But this guy's stories were formative. I had read them as a kid and read an entire novel before realizing I certainly wasn't supposed to be reading them at that age. And of course, nobody stopped me from buying the rest of the series.

And yet still, at the risk of looking like a weirdo at this party, I stammer on. "I-I love your work!" I said. And it was true; his stories were good. They were a thrill, and I never knew where they would go. But it was also a strange obsession to confess. Because, you see, his stories were erotic in nature and darker than you might imagine.

It was about then that I realized what I was looking at. The man, this author, the real Lupen, was... hot. I don't know that I ever noticed an author's photo attached to the books, but I have a feeling nobody in his line of work does that. See, his stories weren't just dark. Many of them dealt with difficult sides of humanity to stomach. Torture, blackmail, manipulation, rape. They weren't cute, and at times they were difficult to stomach, but they explored the mind in a way that my young brain was hooked on.

His mane was cut into a look that was clearly at least a bit messy, but it fit him beautifully. His face was bristly and almost patchy in a way that looked almost odd, but that, too suited him. He looked a bit like a wolf who could beat the far out of you- and his big, muscular body didn't hurt that. But his attire, too, was leather, dark, punky in places. It was a masculine look that celebrated a man who was dangerous and garnered respect.

"Aw, thanks" was not exactly the tone I expected out of this alleyway assailant of a man. His brows were tipped graciously, but his face wore a hint of confusion as he smiled a crooked smirk. The wolf clearly had no idea how to deal with the awkwardness of someone professing such a thing; his obscurity likely meant he might not have had such a situation before.

And now, while I questioned what had given me the bravery to make a bit of an ass out of myself, at the time, I told myself I had to take that opportunity. I wasn't ever going to meet him again; I had to say something. I didn't regret it. Looking back, I'd later realize I was just... drunk. Of course, he was an important person to me, but it was really the drink that had made me willing to just blurt out such a thing.

And the man responsible for how socially lubricated I'd become was the refrigerator of a man that stood before me; this big handsome wolf smiled with a knowing smirk as he chatted with me and others. He'd occasionally glance at me- a girl out of her element- and offer a little smile. Wolves are inscrutable to me, at least to some degree. Dogs tend to be more animated, with smiles and furrows and silly looks. But wolves cant their muzzles forward; they gaze down the barrel of their long snouts to eye me like prey. Their pupils narrow to dots as though they were laser targeted on me. I find the experience tends to make my own eyes avoidant, and if prolonged, I'll fidget.

Likely I did that more than a few times, but the drinks kept coming. It grew harder and harder to be anxious, really, as much as I wanted to be. All in all, it was a good time, just chatting, hanging out, and meeting new people- albeit briefly. He would gently hug an arm over my shoulders or give me a little squeeze here and there, clearly trying to make sure the veritable child of inexperience he'd just brought to this party was doing okay.

There were fun little moments, connecting with people on things I wasn't expecting and socializing. But there was one in general that struck me. Later in the night, Lupin, the guy I'd embarrassed myself over earlier, came up behind me while I was leaning on the wolf. I think he was just getting past me, but he let the front of his large, muscular body kinda grind up against me and gave me a little wolfish nuzzle to my temple. I was very drunk at this point, but I remember my eyes just opening up wide.

I stood there baffled, stupefied. I didn't know why that had happened, and he'd slipped past me shortly after. Was this just a friendly party? Was he trying to make sure I knew he wasn't bothered by me earlier? Well, I realized something else had happened prior. By this point, the order of everything was getting mixed up already as drinks piled up on a bunny that was already a total lightweight. I had earlier told Fen- the wolf I'd practically been hanging off of this whole night- that I didn't expect to meet Lupen ever, let alone in a setting like this. But there was another detail I'd added.

"I wasn't expecting him to be so... hot." I'd confessed, awkwardly, almost a complaint. "Hm?" mumbled a halfway distracted Fen as he continued to host and lend a lazy ear to the shy bunny stalking him. "Like- I mean, he's... like big and hunky. He looks like a character from one of his books. I don't know- I hadn't- I don't really think about what authors... look like, you know? I never saw a photo, I don't think..." By now, the wolf had smirked at me; he raised a brow and gently nudged me. "Well, why don't you tell him that?" His tone was not unkind, but it was that of something you might tell a child when correcting their behavior. I remember my ears tilting back a bit as I whined, "Noooo, I'm sure he's gay. A lot of his writing is gay," and Fen, by now, had once again begun to pay attention to other things as he half-mumbled, "I don't know about that...."

And so now, at this moment, as the wolf slipped away from me, I wondered. Did Fen tell Lupen what I'd said? We were separated plenty of times, and the two wolves had chit-chatted plenty since then. I mean, it would make a lot of sense. Fen had said he wanted me to meet his friends. As hard as he- and any wolf- was to read, perhaps I was filling in the blanks with my own imagination. Perhaps I like the thought of any man I fawn over having a certain paternal instinct to take care of me. At least, I'd seen this many times with many men in my life. Something about my helplessness and eager openmindedness seems to trigger a protective nature in men.

But as I glanced over to a distracted Fen, I didn't really know if that was the case. His face didn't offer any clues, just the handsome, stoic face of a large wolf, broader than most. Well of course I think the blush on my cheek was visible even through the short white fur of my face. But in the low light of the party, who knows. But it wasn't as dark as a nightclub; I could easily see people making out, touching.

It wasn't long before I found myself leaning in, nosing my drunken face against the chest of the wolf who was sort of holding me now. "Having a good time?" He'd mumbled down to me, not quite looking but clearly addressing me. "MMmmmmm," I mumbled. "Don't you wanna play with people? Maybe say hi to Lupen." he offered. "Mmhh... I don't think they'd wanna, haha..." came a chuckling tone from the goofy, open smirk on my face as I rested my eyes a moment.

The room was spinning. I was on my back.

There was a wolf on top of me. His hands were gripping my wrists. Of course, my arms were going nowhere anyway.

"That's right. The little bunny doesn't think anyone wants to play with her. You exude so much confidence that it's hard to believe you're that insecure. Well, I think anyone would wanna do something with you, cute bunny." His words rolled over me, warm, damp. I had kept my clothes on- unlike most who came with some setup of leather. But even my exposed collarbone was enough to feel the bristle of fur and tickle of whiskers of a wolf's warm snout. "Haven't you seen people on that sling? Getting fucked?" And, well, I had. Occasionally, someone would be getting fucked on the sex sling near the bed I was now being pinned on.

I wasn't really responding; my breaths were heavy, deep. Everything was fuzzy, it rolled and vibrated, and everything felt electric.

"Maybe you're gonna get fucked on that sling."

When I mumbled, "Me?" I had already been guided up. With what felt like utmost patience and care, my body moved through the gentle guidance of the wide wolven hands that now controlled it. I was a little puppet, too drunk to be making any of my own decisions, really. The sling was a lot more comfortable than what I expected.

"You know, I almost don't wanna ruin this," he mumbled, toying with the skirt I wore that he was tucking up. The ruffled petticoat and intricate details made it look fancier than it was. My legs were in stirrups of some sort, padded black ones that hugged my ankles. My view was the wolf above me, no... behind me? I didn't know of the world beyond what was happening. My panties were being tugged down my thighs.

My brows furrowed, and an attempt to mutter an "uh?" just became a pant or a grunted wheeze. Certainly, it wasn't anything coherent.

"Oh, little bunny. I'm gonna fuck you." it sounded like some of my attempts to say "huh?" in a questioning town had been picked up on, or I was more coherent than I thought I was because his voice was an answer. It was simply information. And before I knew it, the lubed tip of a wolf's dick had nudged against the unprotected opening of my lips.

And, now, I expected a struggle because Fen is not small by any means. He's maybe the biggest I've ever had in that regard. Certainly the thickest. So I couldn't really believe it when I realized... he'd been fucking me for a few seconds before I really felt much strain. In fact, I felt loose, pliable. Booze had done that to me in the past, but I was prone to blacking out, and my memory tended to leave me. But before long, he was bucking, thrusting.

I was noisy. I was noisier than I should have been in a hotel room. But I didn't really know I was in a hotel room anymore. I didn't really know anything.

In fact, all I really knew then was pleasure. You'd think getting bred by a wolf that stretched me out like no other would be a chore, but in fact, it was heavenly. All I knew was the delightful sensations washing over me, overwhelming me. My loudness was forgotten time and time again. I know the wolf loved that. The sounds were slick, wet noises that marked the stretch and strain of such a big tool being stuffed into a spread little bunny pocket, warm and wet for him. It was a perfect place for a wolf to put a knot, for a wolf to breed a litter into.

I felt like a toy, a plaything. I barely knew who I was or what was going on. I just rocked. My body rocked with the swing, being manipulated so easily by the big strong wolf who could overpower me like it was nothing. Before long, the thrusts grew harsher, however, more hurried, more urgent. They didn't hurt, but they grew more intense; they made my head spin faster. All I could really see was the lights and the big wolf rutting on top of me. Occasionally my legs being held up was enough to remind me at least of what position I was in, but it felt like I was rocking in the ocean, lost in the waves, one with the moment.

Before long, the telltale thumps of a knot made themselves known. And of course, those lips spread around the girth greater than the man she had at home, despite the challenge. This wolf had trained this toy long ago. My head had lolled to the side, and I let out this loud, needy moan. I'd been loud all the time, but I didn't know much about what I was doing. But god, the feeling of a fat wolf dick throbbing inside me, making my tummy feel warm as he flooded me with his cum.

I was there, panting for some time. I was so drunk I didn't understand anything anymore. And a photo was being held up. "See?" he'd said. Fen was holding his phone up near my face. My stupefied expression must have been great, but perhaps the wolf was smirking like that for other reasons. "I sent it to your boy," he muttered. Right, I'd given him the contact info, just in case. Of course.

The image was... well, not something you'd expect to be sent to anyone. It was me, spread on a sex swing... leaking a copious amount of wolf cum from my clearly well-used, glossy, puffy pussy. I didn't have much fur down there and certainly not over that, so it glistened obscenely with the amount of wolven precum and seed all over it. But it wasn't just that. My face. I looked confused. My eyes were barely open, and my jaw was slack. My elbows were up, and my hands dangled behind my head. I looked used. I looked drugged. It was...

Great.

Something deep inside pulled a string, a string that dragged me along, something that tugged at me whether I wanted it or not, whether I resisted or gave in. This gravity, this pressure. It was good. This was me being a good girl. This was me being a toy, being put to good use. This was everything I craved, deep down. He'd sent the pic to me and handed me my phone.

"Other people took pics too," he mentioned, and my head picked up suddenly. "Oh, did you forget?" he asked. It was then that I realized... the party was still happening. I was... still there with everyone.

Believe it or not, as much as some part of me would relish that forever, I didn't actually look. It was like the dark outside of the swing set I was in was forbidden; that peeking into it would grant me something I could never undo. I remember my panties being guided back onto my soggy nethers. I remember being gently urged to go get some rest. I remember falling asleep like a brick on a hotel room bed next to a friend of mine.

Did people really see? Did they really watch?

All I knew was that as I nursed a 6-hour hangover the next day, one of the first things I did was simply stare at my phone at that photo. And I looked almost... lovingly at it. I was proud of it. After plenty of Pedialyte and headache pills, I would rest and nap for most of the day. I felt like absolute death. I maybe hadn't ever drunk that much in the past.

But my god, what an excellent convention.