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So the way it starts is that you're making out with your best friend.

You've known him since you were like seven, and everyone says you're like brothers, and in the ensuing decade your feelings have gotten, uh, pretty non-familial. It's never -- like, you never even came out to him, you were so anxious about him not taking it well or whatever.

But now his tongue is in your mouth and he's shirtless and things are progressing, like, really fast so evidently you really didn't need to worry. So that's nice. Except then he growls at you.

At first you don't really notice, since, like, you're making out, and it's comfortable and casual and involves you sprawled out on his bed, kissing on the lips but also down over the slopes of your shoulders, biting at the junction of his neck where he's tanned all dark -- he makes such great fucking noises, holy shit -- that, like, whatever, growling, it's not like you're not making weird noises sometimes too here. You're really liking the noises you can get him to make.

Then come the claws.

"Holy shit dude you've got claws!" is what you say, staring down at his hand -- which yes, has five very distinct yellow-black claws instead of something more reasonable like fingernails.

"Fuck," he says, except it's kind of weirdly muffled and -- yeah, yeah, he's got fangs.

"Uh," you say.

"Wait, are you a werewolf?" you say. "Oh my god tomorrow is the full moon, you are, how long have you been a werewolf?!"

He makes some kind of guttural growling/snuffling noise into your throat, which you should maybe be worried about, because, you know, fangs, wolves, throat, but whatever, he's basically a puppy and also you've known him for most of your life here.

"You were on that dumb jock camping trip last full moon!" you say. "Did you get bitten? Is the whole football team werewolves? That would explain so much."

"Yes, no" he says, and then he adds "can we go back to making out?" a little plaintively, into your neck. It's kind of rough and hot, rasping through his fangs.

"Your werewolf voice is hot," you tell him. "Also did you seriously get bitten by a wild animal -- or like, hot older counselor? I'm not judging here -- and then not tell anyone, what is wrong with you."

On reflection though: he'd been a little clingier than usual after he got back, which you originally figured was just because you were awesome and it was totally reasonable for someone to miss you a lot after a two-week camping trip in the middle of nowhere, but now in retrospect he'd been a lot more... tactile, and then, also, after school let out, a few hours ago, he'd pressed you against a wall and breathed in your air and then slowly inched forward until your lips were touching and then he kissed you, slow, unhurried, easy, and that basically lead in increments to you sprawled on on his bed, now.

It was pretty awesome but maybe less so if it was just werewolf-induced.

"Wait, this makeouts thing isn't just because you're a werewolf and you've got all these primal urges you don't know what to do with, right?" You shift around, letting him nestle his head against your chest. "Pop quiz: did you ever think about me in a sexy way before a month ago?" It's actually kind of like a shock of ice-water, like maybe he's not actually into you, he just needs to get out some weird full-moon vibes and you were the closest person.

"No, yes," he says, though, in his long-suffering kind of way, so that's great. He's rolling his eyes; you can tell because when he rolls his eyes he also does this head roll, like his eyes are dragging the rest of his face around, and he's doing it now against your chest.

"Oh," you say. "Good."

"It might be a little more -- I don't know, stronger?" He says this while sucking hickies over your collar bone, in wet sloppy kisses that leave your skin shiny and flushed. "When I got back and I, uh, smelled you" -- "Rude," you say, kissing the top of his shaggy head, and he grins against your skin -- "and I just -- I really like you, so it was just like, go for it, you know?"

So werewolf-encouraged, then. That's fine, you can work with that.

"Cool," you say. You've had better one-liners. "I really like you too."

You grin like doofuses at each other for a while. He's got a set full of chompers, big toothy werewolf teeth.

"You're still all claw-y," you say, after a lot more kissing. He's even more fang-y, which, if you're going to be brutally honest here, is actually a huge turn-on.

"I have to like -- concentrate? They just kind of pop out, and it's, uh, really hard." His dick's been digging into your thigh for the past half-hour, so yeah, you can believe that. You've always wanted to feel his dick digging into your thigh while you make out extensively on his bed, so like, you haven't really been in a hurry to move things along. "I'm not really used to the whole werewolf thing yet."

Still: "you know what else just kind of pops out," you say, and grope him. He makes another kind of growly yipping noise and jerks up into your palm. He looks really embarrassed about it; it's super hot.

He's getting progressively more wolfy as time goes on -- well, as he gets more turned on, probably, but right now that's the same thing. His hands are all furry, with stripes of hair growing up his forearms. His ears are getting all pointy, and he definitely has more facial hair than when you started, even if it's basically still just regrettable stubble. He's also, uh. There's some chest hair spreading over his pecs, which is in this weird place where it's jarringly thick compared to the rest of his body but it's not quite "fur" yet, so it just kind of looks like he's got a whole lot of body hair and waxed everywhere but his chest. That's not what caught your attention. What caught your attention was his dick.

Or rather, the thick-and-thickening trail of hair-slash-fur creeping up his stomach, above the waistband of his pants.

"You're such a furry," he says, and wow, busted.

"Think of how awkward this would be if you hadn't just been turned into a werewolf!" you say, playing with the shaggy fur just above his cock. He moves into the touch, until you're basically scratching his belly. "I'd have to very seriously break the news that I want a weird dildo or something." You're mostly blustering to distract yourself from how your face is hot and getting hotter, until it feels like you should be glowing. Um. Like, you knew he knew you were probably into some, uh, kinky stuff, but it was just something you didn't talk about, like, ever.

So, one, he's wearing these really bright colorful red-with-lime-seams briefs that you've never seen before, which means they're new because sexual or not your relationship is such that you've seen basically every single pair of his underwear, and these are a lot fancier than his usual ragged boxers; second, the instant you unzip his jeans his bulge basically explodes out from the zipper, huge and like, wetly humid, and the fabric is molded around his cock, actually dark at the tip, with a wet blotch slowly spreading; third, he's basically got a pelt up from his crotch, a shaggy trail of red-brown fur that's slowly spreading across his stomach even as you watch, and the shape of his dick is definitely not quite human at this point.

And it smells like -- okay, he smells like sex, like sweat and salt and it's really nice, especially when he's draped all across you, hot and solid and there, but you're gonna be honest and say his dick smells amazing. Like, salt and jizz, which isn't really a very specific or appealing description, but... but there are notes. Undertones. It smells great. You want to get your hands all over it, followed rapidly by your mouth.

So you touch his dick -- even through his underwear -- and he basically immediately faceplants in his pillow and makes a noise you would definitely call a howl. There's a lot of friction going on between your dicks, him rutting against your stomach, hand pinned between you, and wow he's like, dripping here, wet runny trails seeping through his underwear.

The crotch of his jeans is hanging down mid-thigh, still stretched tight between his legs because he's straddling you, and you keep grinding against that, cock basically exactly as hard even though it's a lot less, uh, impressive than his.

The overwhelming sensory experience here is just... contact. He's on top of you; you're pressed together. It's weight and solidity and the heat of his skin and the slightly-humid billowing air coming off him, and he's spread out in front of you like something from some really pornographic, uh, werewolf porn, and it's basically fantastic all around.

"I was really looking forward to touching your dick," you tell him. He's still got his face buried in the pillow, making noises that, even muffled, are almost too loud. You keep touching on and around his dick. "And that was before I knew it was a weird werewolf dick."

"I'm glad you don't just like me for my weird werewolf dick," he says, almost incoherently, into the pillow. You scratch his belly more, which is basically like petting a cat, or, you know, a dog, only a whole hell of a lot more sexual.

You're considering actually touching his dick when his briefs just like, rip apart. The bulge of his cock has gotten more and more obscene (and also weirder and weirder if you're using any kind of human dick as a reference), so it's not really a huge surprise when the seam over his hip starts popping stitches. The y-front is stretched out like a handspan from his crotch, with his cock knifing straight up, the fabric sticking to it all wet and glossy. They basically snap apart, suddenly a huge strip of his furry thigh visible, and then the elastic snaps and they're just gone, his cock and balls hanging all out with the seams hanging down neatly framing it. You think you make a noise, maybe, but it basically feels like your brain's exploded. You can't even think about it, you can just live in the world of completely unfiltered sensory experience (of his dick) and let it all wash over you.

He groans and fishes the ruined briefs from out of his jeans. "Aw man, those were new," he says, mournfully.

"Yeah," you say.

"I, uh, wanted to impress you," he says, "Instead of just wearing those ratty boxers."

"Yeah," you say. You shake your head and end up still staring at his cock. "No, that was... that was really impressive. I'm impressed."

"You're seriously into my cock." He says it like he doesn't believe it, like somehow even now it's unexpected, like this is a new and happy surprise. His breath rasps across your ear as he leans in close. "Touch it," he says, and you fucking whimper.

It's a really nice cock.

Here are the deets: like, huge? And entirely wolf-like. You assume, you've never actually seen a wolf cock before. Much less, uh, erect. Jesus Christ, it looks so fucking absurd against the rest of his body, shaggy fur sprouting across his hips and like, framing it, except it's so fucking long the tip juts up against the bare skin of his stomach, leaving behind milky white smears of precome wherever it touches.

It's blood red and like, shiny? Glossy. It doesn't seem altogether real, and not just because you're a virgin staring at your first cock. The first cock that's gonna be touching you in a whole lot of increasingly-filthy ways. But it's... smooth. It doesn't have a texture: skin has a texture, kind of crinkly, little uneven shapes. This is just... smooth. Like it honestly could be some kind of freaky dildo, all smooth glossy rubber. Except the color is just as subtle and nuanced as skin, "red" except in layers, like raw muscle, purplish where the flesh of it is the most solid, and with these tiny red/blue filaments under the surface everywhere, vivid colors that shift-ever-so-slightly with his heartbeat.

Speaking of his heartbeat: the entire thing shudders, even more pushing out from his sheath, and it drools out precome in milky strings, painting his skin in blotchy patches. And his sheath: it's fucking clinging around his cock, the skin at the very tip stretched pale under the soft, stubbly fur there. His sheath is basically just about the size you were expecting his dick to be. Lengthwise. It's a lot thicker than you were thinking. And it's covered in red-brown fur: thick and shaggy between his thighs, curling in wet coils around his sheath, glossy and dripping up over his stomach where his cock is pressed against his body. It swells in the middle, hugely fat, and fuck you bet that's his knot, right there, right in front of you. His balls are not-quite enveloped by the explosion of fur between his thighs, each of them huge like fucking lemons, in this huge fucking lump under his sheath, filling the space between his thighs and the crotch of his pants, fur erupting in curls at the edges of his jeans.

You could honestly write an entire fucking paper about the way his dick is put together. You're not gonna describe, in explicit detail, exactly how it smells. (It smells fucking hot.) But you could.

So the thing is you spend a really long moment staring at his cock, and then it moves, because he's actually, you know, leaning towards you, and it drags hot and wet across your teeshirt, his slimy precome instantly soaking through to your skin. It's hot, both viscerally and in terms of literally being hot temperature-wise. He presses his nose wetly against your neck and drags upwards, lapping over your skin. It turns into a kiss, his stubby muzzle -- he's got a muzzle now, at some point -- lolling open as he basically just unfurls his tongue in your mouth, and then you come in your pants. It's so abrupt you hardly even recognize it, the pleasurable frustration of your cock grinding against his hip suddenly bursting into something that leaves you basically screaming into his mouth, rutting against his body, dizzy with reflected pleasure, and then it's over and you feel loose and also like your boxers are clinging to all kinds of places.

He sniffs across your chest, which is honestly more than a little unnecessary, because you were not subtle at all. "Did you just come in your pants?"

"Shut up," you say. "You're hot."

So then you touch his cock.

He's like, super slick from drooling precome all over the place, and his cock is just glistening in the dim light of his bedroom, wet streamers sluggishly drooling down it and spilling over the lip of his sheath, making a god-awful mess of his fur. When you finally touch it, it squelches, thin watery pre oozing up between your fingers.

He was in the middle of saying something, probably about you actually getting naked, but he cuts off in a ragged snarl and fucking bites down on the pillow, his whole body shuddering as his cock spills lines of precome all over your hand. Like, you're honestly not sure if he's coming all over your hand right now or if this is just more pre, but it doesn't seem to be stopping any time soon.

Slowly, like, over the past few minutes, he's gone full-wolf, or at least, you know, full huge-looming-humanoid-wolf-monster. Fur spread up his stomach and arms in rippling waves, over his face, and then it bulged out into a muzzle, and his ears got all perky, and now it's basically like, hey, you've got a werewolf in your bed.

Technically you're in the werewolf's bed, but whatever, quibbles.

Also, he's still wearing his jeans. It's just like every monster transformation out there: he gained enough bulk in his upper body to probably shred a shirt, (you add that to your mental list of things to ask him to do because wow that would be hot,) but his jeans are still intact, if stretched skin-tight from his new bulging werewolf muscles. Only here, of course, his cock is just hanging all out, drooling all over the place as you jerk him off.

His hips pump forward in an erratic rhythm as you stroke him off, each stroke slopping and squelching as gummy precome smears all across your hand. He snarls, pushing you back against the headboard, and, uh, he's still got the pillow in his mouth, ragged stuffing poking on on the sides, and it's remarkably cute for all that it also shows off his immense fucking murder teeth. He's groaning into it, breath puffing fast and ragged as you jerk him off, the solid weight of his body pinning you without him having to actually, like, do anything about it.

Since you do, in fact, have the refractory period of a 17-year-old, it's basically a few minutes of jerking him off and you're hard again, chafing the inside of your boxers all wet and uncomfortable. Mostly that's his fault though; he's drooling -- like, actually, from the mouth -- all over your shoulder, smearing his gross drool-pillow against your cheek, and his cock is spurting still-not-sure-if-he's-actually-coming fluids all over your stomach, and the end result is you're basically soaking wet all over, and also steaming gently from the heat. It's dizzying, like actually, physically dazing you, so you have to lean back against the headboard and just let him rut against you, cock sliding with wet squelches through your loose fist, snapping and tearing at the pillow until it's just gross wads of stuffing.

"Wanna fuck you," he says, after he finishes spitting out all the drooly wads of like, foam? Did he honestly have a foam pillow; that seems kind of absurd.

"Okay, awesome," you say, because you're entirely down with that. "Wait, fuck, like, lube? And do you even have -- can you even wear a condom?"

"I'm clean!" He pouts at you. "I never, um. I mean, you know I never did anything with anyone else."

"Uh, lycanthropy? I mean, do you know just how transmissible it is?"

His wolfy eyebrows are still pretty expressive. "You can't honestly tell me you wouldn't love being a werewolf." He's definitely got your number.

"Still, I mean, right now I wanna stick to being the fragile human debauched by werewolf cock." You're still stroking him off through this whole exchange, and at that his cock sprays pre all up over your stomach. You look up at him and he just grins all toothy at you, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

"You totally would've made me wear a fursuit or something, wouldn't you."

It's a distinct possibility. "Maybe. I would've waited until after our first time, at least."

"Anyway, I think it's just through biting."

Which, sure, okay, except: "You've already like drooled a pint of viral werewolf saliva down my throat." He looks kind of grossed out when you put it that way. You lean forward and kiss him, pushing back his rubbery black lips to lick into his mouth, and his tongue just kind of... unfurls into your mouth, wet and slick and yeah, drooling a whole hell of a lot. He rumbles, high in his chest, and you suck on his tongue, which feels kind of ridiculous but he seems to really like it, his shuddering breath billowing across your face as you basically kiss his tongue. You end up swallowing a bunch more mouthfuls of werewolf saliva in the process. "Um," you say, voice wet and clotted when you finally pull back. "My point was, if that's the infection vector it's already way too late."

"Look, we're talking about werewolves here, I think it's just magic." He does jazz-hands at 'magic', which is even more hilarious now that he's a huge fucking werewolf. You laugh into his shoulder, which grinds his cock up and down against your stomach.

"Yeah, okay," you say. "Still, lube, because that thing is seriously huge." You roll over, sprawling backwards on the bed, and that means you get to watch him turn around. He's seriously hot, maybe even moreso as a hulking werewolf. His shoulders got a lot broader, and you can see the rippling movements of his back muscles even under his shaggy fur. His tail -- he got a tail, you totally missed that -- is basically wagging constantly, raised high, and his ass is fantastic, like, look, he has a nice ass as a human; after he joined the football team you ended up seeing him changing -- you're kind of a hanger-on; you're god-awful at sports -- and it fueled a lot of personally revealing fantasies about the both of you naked. It's basically just as nice as a muscular werewolf ass, though in practice you think the hair might be kind of a hassle.

His jeans are still caught between his thighs, fur erupting out around the legs, and they're clinging to the huge fucking massive muscles of his legs. He turns towards you, silhouette contorted and monstrous, leg muscles shifting, eyes glowing red, cock bloated and red and dripping and fucking enormous and Jesus Christ this is like something out of your filthiest fantasies.

He basically just rips your shirt off.

It catches across your back, tight, and then the faded fabric gives out and shreds itself. He ends up holding a scrap, torn out with his claws, the rest of it lying across the bed.

"I liked that shirt," you feel obligated to say, even though honestly it wasn't your favorite.

He stoops down, pressing his mouth against the wet coating of his own jizz all over your stomach, and starts licking. You can feel his teeth digging into your skin at the end of each rough lap. Fuck, even you would not have anticipated having werewolf teeth against your soft vulnerable underbelly would be a turn-on. You basically writhe on the bed as he licks all across your stomach, over your sides -- ticklish; you accidentally knee him in the side of the head once trying to squirm away, and he growls up at you and bares his teeth, which, again, super hot -- and over the wet mess of the crotch of your jeans, nose snuffling against the hairs leading up your stomach. He bites the button of your jeans off, showily, which, rude, okay. And then he just yanks them down your legs, digs his claws in and rips downward.

"I can already tell this is gonna be a relationship where I go through a lot of clothes," you say, mostly to distract yourself from how now you're naked and he's, like, looking at you.

In this equation you're the one who's not a huge fucking hot muscular werewolf. You're actually kind of gawky and lanky and pale. He's, uh -- his cock is straight-up drooling, like in a constant stream, and it patters down in translucent droplets over your stomach, just above-and-to-the-side of your cock. Your cock isn't bad, but it's not huge or anything, and it bends a little, and, most notably here it's the one that's not a huge oversexed knotted wolf cock.

His throat works, lips sliding back and forth over his teeth, and his eyes are still literally glowing red, shot through with golden flecks, luminous and reflective. He groans again and dips his head, lapping messily over your nipples, down over the almost painfully sensitive skin of your stomach, and then he rasps wet and rough in a long stripe up your cock and that's it, you're done. You try to hold it in, tensing weird internal muscles, but then he licks again, long and wet, eyes gleaming over your stomach, just a massive fucking red-brown shape at the head of the bed, stooped over, lips and tongue dragging over your cock.

You last maybe ten seconds, and that's being generous, and then you come all over his face with a keening sigh. Which is also super fucking hot, wet lines and droplets of your jizz clinging to his shaggy fur, webbing across his muzzle, across his cheeks. He laps you through your orgasm, his wet flexible tongue smearing all over your cockhead, and you just go limp, mind thoroughly blown. "No fair," you hear yourself say, dimly. "I wanted to suck you off."

Then he starts licking lower.

Over your balls it's mostly just ticklish, whiskers pricking at your thighs, but then -- wow, rimming on the not-even-first-date. It's, uh. You mean, you've got a dildo, it's great, you're totally accepting about how your ass can feel good when you play with it, but he keeps doing these long slow strokes down the crack of your ass, catching just-barely on your asshole, and it's like -- it's like eating wasabi and suddenly having precise 3d perceptual awareness of your sinuses as burning bean-shaped blobs of pain, only instead of sinuses it's the shape of your asshole and instead of pain you keep whimpering and grinding your ass against his muzzle. You kind of wish you could bring yourself to talk, because you want to say that to him and then watch what a werewolf looks like when he's laughing so hard he starts to cry.

You might actually be crying; it's hard to tell. You're definitely sobbing, wet ragged gasps as his tongue catches over your asshole and digs in just-slightly. You're amazed how fast it goes, opening up for him, basically riding his muzzle as you keep arching up into him. He spreads your cheeks, claws ten precise pinpricks, and you whine just at that, your ass loose enough you feel the muscle part just from that, winking open.

He basically fucks you with his tongue. He's fucking enthusiastic about it, drooling all over the place until your cheeks are dripping and squelching and you feel fucking depraved, the long heavy roll of his tongue prodding at your pucker and just... sliding inside, pushing deeper, opening you up. His nose bumps wet and cold against the root of your cock, just above your ass, his mouth wide open, so that you're basically sitting in his mouth, his tongue buried so deep inside it basically feels like he's already fucking you.

You might come just from that, again, dizzy and shaking and muffling an incoherent moan as you just spill all across your stomach, asshole convulsing around his tongue. He hits something inside you, tongue a huge soft pressure coiling around your insides, and it just feels... good. It feels real good, and you keep coming, and it honestly seems like it lasts minutes, waves of sensation crashing through your body, up through your ass, like you're full of water and it's just crashing from one side of your body to the other.

You're basically boneless, legs thrown over his shoulders through no effort of your own, asshole gaping as he eats you out, ass -- like, your whole ass -- literally dripping with spit, the rest of your body tacky with jizz and precome and sweat.

You have to admit, this was not how you were expecting your first time to go.

You know, candlelight, soft music, something other than your best friend's brightly-lit bedroom, blanket scratchy against your ass.

You were also expecting less werewolves, but that was more to keep your expectations down.

So back in reality, he pulls back, tongue dragging its way out, and you can barely raise the energy to whimper sadly as he pulls away. Your asshole doesn't even close, yawning wide open like a second mouth, its lips puffy and swollen, flushed and hot. His nose presses just above it, whiskery lips kissing your asshole, and then he pushes inside.

This was not even something it occurred to you was physically possible, but you're slack, and open, and apparently stretchy, and he shoves his fucking muzzle into your ass. It's too much, it's beyond too much -- for the first time it fucking aches, hot and uncomfortable up your spine, but fucking hell. You're definitely crying; distantly you can feel tears rolling over your cheeks, but you're rocking up against his face, every nerve alight from the pinprick sensation of his soft-furred muzzle pushing inside you. He drools straight inside you, enough that the wet slopping squelching noises are clearly audible even to your ears, which should be at least a little gross, but you find yourself just opening further, the pain giving way to a fevered, pulsing throb as he forces your asshole just, way, way beyond capacity. His jaw is open, tongue licking inside you again, and the little shuddering twitches through his jaw translate into throbbing, aching stretches of your asshole, distending like a fucking rubber band around his muzzle.

His nose jams into your prostate and you think you might faint, or yell, or something. Everything goes black -- you might have shut your eyes? -- and you're dimly aware of your cock spraying thin, watery jizz all over your stomach, splattering across your chest and dripping down to your neck. You're sobbing, wet choking noises as your stomach heaves, hands wrapped tight in the shaggy fur of his thighs, wet and plastered together now that he's just spurting precome everywhere.

He keeps that up for another fucking half-hour. Well, not that you're counting, or even capable of summoning up the mental effort to consider keeping track of time, but that's how long it goes for. In the end you're writhing on top of his muzzle, the entire fucking thing shoved inside your ass, your asshole completely fucking wrecked, filmy drool leaking out around his muzzle. You're coming blanks, nothing but tiny wet droplets and hardly that. He pulls out -- again -- and you let out this instinctual animal whimper, not even conscious of it.

Then he slots his cock up against your fucking gaping, ravaged asshole.

For all that he's terrifyingly huge, it doesn't even hitch when he slides it in, all the way. He stuffs his fucking sheath in there: he slides in to the base, sheath kissing the swollen, hugely distended muscle of your asshole, and then he keeps pushing. His knot pops out, in a wet gush, and it just slides in too, fatter but still not that big compared to his fucking face, and then he just... keeps pushing, sheath wrinkling back to show off the absolute root of his cock, until it too eventually sinks inside your wrecked asshole, until you're absolutely flush with his crotch, his balls these huge swells draping across your back, your front basically buried in his fur.

He fucks you until you pass out. Like, maybe he doesn't mean to, but you're fucking exhausted after coming your brains out like ten times, and he's just been working himself up higher and higher before getting to the part where he actually shoves his cock into something, and so he just rails you, the fucking megalith of his cock plunging into your ass with a long, liquid squelch, drool and precome overflowing and spattering out across his thighs. And then he does it again, and again, the long solid plunge of his cock into your ass and then deeper, ending with his cockhead in your guts and your asshole clenching around his sheath.

He pulls you up into his lap, wraps his arms around you, licking and nipping across your shoulder and back as he works his hips, as fucking inexorable in his thrusts as a machine, though a lot more erratic. You breathe into his chest, half-asleep, aware of the mess of fluids drooling from your ass, aware of how your stomach swells out with each thrust, hollowing as he withdrawals, but mostly just surrounded by him, body still echoing from your orgasms, cock soft but dripping come as he pounds you, and that's how you drift off, completely exhausted.

You wake up who-knows-how-long later, curling up in bed. You're... heavy. He's draped over your side, shaggy fur enveloping you almost entirely, and it takes a moment for you to even realize he's still inside you. Knotted, yeah, you can feel that, like someone stuck a football up your ass. Your stomach is, uh. There are ragged red seams, stretch marks, all over the swell of your stomach, and you look fucking pregnant, stomach round and smooth and fucking heavy, Jesus, that's like entirely jizz, like fucking gallons of it. Evidently magical werewolf metabolism includes never running out of come.

You make some noise, a soft muffled "mmm" sound, and you only realize he's been petting your stomach when he stops.

"You're awake," he says, and he sounds... bashful? Embarrassed? "Sorry," he says, softly, against the back of your neck.

"Mmm," you say, a little more clearly. You try to stretch, but between the knot in your ass and his general weight you're basically pinned in place. "Don't worry about it. I mean," you say, and pause. "Next time I'd like to be conscious when you knot me, but we can deal with that later."

You look down at the swell of your stomach. "How long has this been going on?"

"Um," he says. "Like, an hour now."

"Oh," you say. "Wait, how long do wolves usually tie for?" Your voice is still soft and ragged.

He passes you his phone. He'd been playing some garbage facebook game, poorly, you assume because of the claws, except, yeah, in another tab: "wolf sex knotting". Like, half an hour, it says. Huh. "Huh," you say. You shrug. Mentally. Because you don't really have the range of motion you'd need to actually shrug right now. "Whatever, I'm going back to sleep, wake me up when you finish knocking me up or whatever."

He whines softly against the back of your neck. "It'll ruin the bed," he says.

"What." It takes a long moment for you to connect these trains of thought. "I guess we could try to get to the shower?"

"My mom's home," he says, plaintively, and you completely lose it, him all worried and anxious. You at least have the grace to muffle your laughter in his sheets. Which, yeah, completely reek of sex.

"We'd be in the hallway for like a minute."

"We could be stuck together in the bathroom for another hour."

"Well, you gotta spill about getting a boyfriend sooner or later. And also the werewolf thing, I guess, if you want."

"She's gonna ask if we used a condom," he says, sighing against your hair.

"She's gonna have more questions if she finds your bed completely saturated in werewolf spunk," you say.

He groans. You attempt to get up.

It's a coordination problem, like a three-legged race. You're stuck together at the crotch, and seeing as he's a huge looming werewolf he's way taller than you, so the way it ends up is him flat-out carrying you, one huge hand cradling your -- aching, sloshing -- stomach, the other keeping your shoulders in place. He hits his head on his bedroom doorway and lets out a muted "fuck", and then he does this bizarre soft-step down the hallway and hits his head on the bathroom door and says it again, louder.

This whole process is made a lot more surreal by how you can still feel him coming in you, in soft waves, each one pushing his jizz just a little deeper, increasing the aching pressure all across your stomach by just a hair. It honestly feels like a fever dream, where everything is disjointed and nonsensical.

You end up sitting together in the bathtub for another half-hour, talking a little and passing his phone back and forth, until it starts to fucking hurt, and then -- finally -- his knot starts to go down. There are a few really messy minutes after that, and then you spend fifteen minutes groaning on the toilet while you basically shit out a few gallons of jizz, but all-in-all things go pretty excellently.

So he showers (getting fur everywhere) while you curse his over-abundant werewolf nuts, and then afterwards you shower, and he slowly shrinks down into human-form and you make out in the shower. He, uh, ends up fisting you. Like, completely accidentally, but your ass is seriously not recovered from taking his enormous werewolf cock, and his fingering attempt goes awry and he ends up with his arm halfway to the elbow up inside you, looking equal parts freaked out and turned on. He manages to force a final orgasm out of you, pressed up against the shower wall, legs spread, basically punch-fucking you.

On the one hand, you came literally more times than you can count over the course of maybe four hours and he came once, but on the other hand, well, his lasted for almost two hours and was vastly messier.

You change his sheets and open all the windows, too, because coming back after showering the room smells fucking rank, sweat and jizz and dog, and then you curl up in his bed together.

"So, uh," you say, curled up against him. "Tomorrow's the full moon, right? You think you could go full-wolf and we could try that out?"

He groans and grinds his hand across your face, but he's totally grinning while he does it, so you count that as a "yes."

Awesome. A+ for lycanthropy. You're going to have to find that wild animal-slash-hot older counselor and thank them.