Heavy Paws
Story by Pawsroloc on SoFurry
Okay, okay. I bet I can guess what you're thinking. "A gay virgin with no boundaries, a camera, and a free pass onto any part of campus? By gods it's only a matter of time until the man's sneaking his way into locker rooms and taking the 'candidity' of his work to a new level!"
Well, you're wrong. Kind of.
Prologue
Looking back on my days in high school I can't help but grimace. Let's just say I wasn't the 'coolest' kid that walked my school's halls. I wore thick rim glasses and insisted on having some type of flannel on me at all times. However the hipster-esque clothing is not what people remember me for. Instead, I was 'that guy with the camera' who didn't understand personal space.
See, during my sophomore year my parents had scrounged together enough money to buy me this really high end camera for my birthday. Needless to say I fell in love immediately. I took the thing with me everywhere I went. Whenever I saw the opportunity for a shot to present itself, I would take it. It's really the candidity of photography that drives my passion. Being able to capture a moment, no matter how small, is what it's all about for me. Be it a friend cramming for a test last minute (Lucy Tale) or a soccer player mourning the loss of a semi-finals game with his teammates (Regis Kross)... It's those fleeting moments that I crave.
However I learned the hard was that the people actually experiencing these moments tended to enjoy my company from a preferable distance. I don't think I learned that lesson until I pulled out my camera in the middle of a final and snapped a pic of our school's varsity jock snoozing at the desk next to me (Tyler Whittaker). After that trip to principles office I started to become more aware of my image. Turned out that a lot of my peers thought that my contributions to the arts were more of a hassle then they were a benefit to our society. I started to learn how to blend in a little better and pick up on the atmosphere. You'd be surprised how long it took before I could fully suppress my urge to barge into people's lives and actually consider my surroundings.
I think the only person in high school who actually supported my overzealous photography was... well... my photography teacher, Mr. Cane. After the whole 'camera during finals' incident I remember Mr. Cane pulling me outside his class and asking to see the picture. Cane thought it was so good that he asked if he could submit the photo into an art gallery at our local college. Moments like that were why I started to fall for Mr. Cane. He wasn't the most attractive man in the world, but he supported me in a way no one else had at that school. I took all of his classes, even the ones I had already taken. Yearbook, ceramics, and all of his photography classes. I did everything I could for the man, all in the name of a foolish crush. And honestly? I think if the guy had asked me to jump off the gymnasium roof my senior year I would have done it in a heartbeat.
I think he knew it as well. Or at least he did after I confessed to him. We had a long talk in his office after that about the professional relationship between teachers and students. None of what he said really surprised me. The rejection, the lecture, all of it. I just had to get it off my chest before I graduated. I mean, he was the guy who had once told me to 'take every shot, no matter what anyone thought.' He was my self-confidence. My ego. My hero.
Two months after I graduated from high school he lost his job after an 'unprofessional relationship' with Lucy Tale became public. I'm still processing the hypocrisy of that situation, but recently it's been a real struggle to find the time to dwell on those types of hang-ups. Exams, food, sleep, and photography are the only four principles that govern my life nowadays. I'd like to say that the two years that I've spent attending Dremond University have really helped me mature. I have actual friends now with similar passions, I'm no longer crushing over men twice my age, and while it's true that I still have a lot of flannel in my closet, my sense of fashion has improved significantly.
Even though I might not be the same introverted nerd I was six years ago, my love for photography has unwavered. I still have my camera slung around my neck at all times, and no one on a college campus really seems to give a damn about my intrusive art. Plus, between the holidays, festivals, sporting events, and art shows that happen on campus, I've always got something to do.
Working for the school has its fair share of perks as well. Getting paid to document sports games for the school paper isn't that bad. Plus I get to wear this stereotypical 'STAFF' shirt in our college's school colors that announces to everyone that I'm there on business. People really underestimate the power of a shirt like that. When I wear that shirt, it's like no one can see me. Suddenly, a group of friends posing to take a picture don't think it's weird that I too, am angling my lens at them. It's also great at letting you into places you're definitely not supposed to be.
This is the part where I talk about my little 'side project'. Now don't get me wrong; Dremond's Photography curriculum is fantastic. I've never been more engaged in my life. However I don't want all of my free time to be tied into my school career. So lately I've been filling the bits and pieces of my free time with more... interesting ventures.
Okay, okay. I bet I can guess what you're thinking. "A gay virgin with no boundaries, a camera, and a free pass onto any part of campus? By gods it's only a matter of time until the man's sneaking his way into locker rooms and taking the 'candidity' of his work to a new level!"
Well, you're wrong. Kind of.
Chapter 1: "I Took A Picture"
It was the final game of the season for the Dremond Jackals and I was tired. Key word 'was'. The game itself had been a rollercoaster of emotions. With only thirty seconds left in the final quarter the Tichoma Rascals had stolen the game out from underneath out feet. I had personally captured the moment when our defensive line was broken and our quarterback was tossed to the ground like a ragdoll.
Personally I've never really cared for sports. But that game had really captivated me. I don't think I really realized that my heart was racing until it was all said and done. As I scrolled back through the pictures I was proud to find that I had not only captured a perfect shot of the tackle, but also the subsequent fumble and touchdown which resulted in our loss. I kept cycling through the shots on my camera for what must have been the eighth time before I stopped on a specific photo that caught my eye. It was a picture of our quarterback post-game, his hands on his knees. His helmet had been tossed aside in the shot before, now rolling across the grass by his cleats. Sweat was beading at the bottom of his chin, his brown mat of hair clinging to his forehead in wet clumps. The picture was unfortunately out of focus, but the expression on the quarterbacks face was clear.
Pain. Dissapointment. Shame. All of those emotions were clear as day, despite the quality of the picture. I frowned, trying my hardest to feel some sort of empathy for the guy... But I couldn't. The only thing I could feel was anger. Mainly because this same guy had fucking abandoned his post-game photoshoot with me.
I sighed, sitting back up to scan the empty set in front of me. My lights illuminated the empty white tarp in front of me, the heat of the bulbs radiating out into the room. I was tired. I was hot. And I was mad. Each of the players had come in for their photoshoot before heading back to the lockers. I had asked the receiver where the quarterback was, and the guy told me that he didn't know. So like any decent person I waited for the guy to show up. Maybe an hour was a bit too generous of me, but I really wanted to meet him in person. See, this wasn't the first time I had photographed the Dremond Jackal's prodigious quarterback. Back then he was just known as Tyler Whittaker, the up-and-coming star who happened to fall asleep in our algebra final.
And right now I was feeling a little swindled. Not only because I'd been waiting an hour for him to make an appearance, but also because... because...
I let out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping forward as I pulled myself to my feet. I began the long and arduous task of dismantling the set, having completely given up hope on Tyler's return.
God damnit, I wanted to impress him.
It was really my one and only chance to see the guy again. He was going to walk in here, his face just as long as it had been on the field, and then he would have seen how much better I'm doing in college than he is.
Okay, maybe that's going a bit too far. It's not like I ever hated the guy...
I pondered my thoughts further as I rolled up my white tarp.
It's just... The notion of someone who knew him in high school seeing him as he was now... seeing him having grown and matured into someone sociable and nice... that's what I wanted.
I clicked the final light off, returning one of the stadium's many large back rooms to its naturally dim lighting. As I knelt to loosen a knob on the light's tripod, the distant crash of a swinging door slamming shut caught my attention. The game had ended three hours ago. What was someone doing in these backrooms at a time like this? I listened intently to the sound of heavy footsteps rhythmically jogging... no, wait... limping... down the hall. The double doors to my backroom were completely open. I peeked around the edge as I watched the lone figure push another set of doors halfway down the room open.
The familiar flash of a white uniform and the number 5 was enough identification for me. I didn't have to read the words WHITTAKER to know that this was my guy. I quickly sped down the hall after him, camera in hand. I had already taken down the set, but I'd be damned if I didn't get at least one shot of the quarterback post-game. I entered the locker room, my nose wrinkling slightly at the strong scent of hard work and labor. It had been a long time since I'd stepped foot in a locker room. It wasn't all that different in comparison to the one back in high school. Same rows of lockers. Same eye watering smell. Hell, it even had the same uncomfortable benches. I peeked around the corner of each row of lockers as I strode, a wave of nostalgia washing over me.
It brought back memories of when I'd stare at the ground, too afraid to look up and accidentally start ogling one of my classmates. As I peeked around the next corner I smiled absent-mindedly to myself. Had it really been that long since I'd seen another man's junk?
That's when I saw another man's junk. Specifically it was Tyler's. The quarterback had placed himself in a rather... compromising position. The boy was leaning over the locker room benches, one hand pressed against the locker in front of him in an effort to position himself. However his other hand was practically a blur to me, his fingers working across the length of his shaft with such vigor it made me second guess my own ministrations. The quarterbacks clothing was haphazardly strewn across the locker floor, his shoulder pads jostling against his skin with each pump of his hand.
Holy fuck. Those same words almost escaped my lips as I tried to process the scene in front of me. I was frozen, my hands gripping the camera around my neck tightly.
Three things happened in this moment.
The first _thing _was the simplest. Tyler came. And it wasn't your typical quiet orgasm. Tyler closed his eyes and growled. He legitimately growled, a low and throaty groan of pleasure and the unmistakable sigh of pent up stress being released all in one animalistic sound. Rope after rope of white jism painted the locker bench as Tyler grunted through gritted teeth.
The second _thing _was the most confusing. I noticed Tyler's arm hair. Well, to be honest I noticed the finger jammed up his own ass first, but I quickly forgot about that after I realized that the the guy had brown body hair. Thick hair. Like, really thick. It wasn't just on his arms. It was on his hands... his chest... his thighs... it was everywhere. It was so coarse and thick in some places that it almost looked like fur to me.
Now the third _thing _is the thing that surprised me the most. I took a picture. The shutter clicked loudly as the quarterback came, the noise drowned out by the sound of Tyler's moans. My heart raced as I realized what I had just done. Before I knew it, I was walking away from the scene. By the time I had made it back to the photo set at I was running at full speed. I kept replaying the scene in my head over and over as I raced back home.
Chapter 2: "This Was Probably A New Low For Me"
It wasn't hard to find Tyler Whittaker. A short trip to the student office was all it took for me to find the quarterback's email and address. I had learned a long time ago that as long as you acted like you belonged somewhere, no one would second guess why you're there. Plus wearing my school's staff shirt made it quite easy to blend in. While I did feel a little bad about the whole 'illegally searching my school's database' situation, I had to know more.
What I had seen that night at the stadium had blown my goddamn mind. The photo had captured Whittaker at the exact moment of his orgasm. I pulled out my phone as I walked my way towards the campus' cafe, taking a good long look at the picture once more. I had examined the picture for hours now, my mind trying its best to wrap itself around the undeniable evidence in front of me.
At this point I was pretty sure that these three things were true about Tyler Whittaker.
Conclusion #1. The man liked taking it up the ass. The amount of digits that Tyler had stuffed into his own rear end was enough evidence for me.
Conclusion #2. He had fangs. No joke. There is a point at which canines become fangs, and Tyler had surpassed them. The picture had captured him in mid-snarl, his lips curled to reveal the menacing looking canines. It should also be noted that the man's tongue was lolling out of his mouth. And I don't just mean sticking out, but actually hanging down to his chin.
Conclusion #3. Tyler Whittaker was hot. I guess this part was pretty obvious, but it took me a while to realize just how physically attracted I was to him. I think it really hit me when I found myself jacking off to the thought of Tyler. Honestly, the thought had come out of left field for me. I've never been fond of fantasizing about real people in my life (Mr. Cane excluded), but for some reason it felt exciting with Whittaker. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I had a picture of the guy painting the locker rooms white.
Conclusion #4. This was probably a new low for me.
I now sat at a bench outside the Dremond Cafe. While the sunny skies may not have been the perfect condition for photography, it was proving to be a beautiful day... For blackmail.
Hey Whittaker<<
The first text was simple. It was an innocent text from a random number. No sweat. Now all I had to do was wait for him to respond.
It wasn't long before I got the reply.
>>Who is this?
Perfect. I grinned slyly as I typed out my reply. Now that I knew that I had his attention, I could get serious.
Where were you last night at 8:00 AM?<<
I waited a few minutes for his reply. My heart almost skipped a beat as my phone's notification sound rung three times.
>>is this pitcher42?
wtf did you do to me, man
im freaking out over here
I raised my eyebrow as I reread the texts. Things were getting complicated as well. The name was obviously someone's username, and a risqué one at that. I smiled as I imagined what anonymous romping's Tyler had gotten himself into. Maybe the quarterback has an even more ridiculous username, like 'catcher69'.
No. Come to the Dremond Cafe ASAP.<<
The reply was almost immediate.
>>and why the fuck should i do that
I couldn't stop from grinning as I hit 'send' on the next text.
[1 photo attachment]<<
Holy shit he actually came. I had started to give up hope after Tyler had never responded to the photo. I mentally thanked my patience as I watched the tall jock slowly approach the cafe. Whittaker was sporting a pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap, making it hard to identify him at first. Even thought I could barely see the guy's face, the varsity jacket was a dead giveaway. Not only that, but the guy stuck out like a sore thumb. The man was constantly looking over his shoulder, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. The quarterback was no doubt looking for the sign of his voyeur.
I felt bad watching him stand there, scanning the crowd. The guy had no clue how to blend in. It was over ninety degrees out and the guy looked like he was dressed for the winter. Pitying the fretting quarterback, I sent my next text.
Glad you could make it<<
In no time at all he was fishing out his cell, the man's hands quickly diving between pockets. I watched him read it, scan the crowd once more, and then walk away. Suddenly my phone was buzzing once more. I cursed my lack of foresight and quickly silenced it, turning the device over to read his text.
>>somewhere more private
By the time I had turned my attention away from my phone he was already walking away. I quickly downed the rest of my coffee and hurried on after him. Trying my best to tail him from a distance, I watched the man hurry down the campus thoroughfare. After a few more minutes of walking across campus it seemed that Tyler had found the location he had been looking for. We were walking past some of the older Dremond University buildings now. Most classes had migrated to the newer facilities, leaving these halls relatively empty nowadays. My heart raced in anticipation as I watched the door to a nearby bathroom swing closed behind him.
I took a deep breath and stepped forward, phone still gripped in my hand. The march to the bathroom felt like an eternity as my mind raced through all the different possibilities. What was going on with Tyler? How would he react to seeing me?
As soon as I opened the door to the bathroom a large hand pulled me inside. I would have yelled if the quarterback had given me more than a second to compose myself. As soon as I had been pulled in I was suddenly thrown backward, my head slamming against the bathroom door. Before I knew it I was completely pinned, his elbow pressing tightly against my throat as he held me down. The faint *click* of the bathroom lock made my heart sink. What had I done? How could I have been so foolish? All possibilities vanished from my mind. I knew what I was in for. I was locked in a bathroom with a man who wanted to kill me.
"What the fuck is happening to me?" Tyler shouted. His voice sounded hoarse and raspy, as if he was losing it.
"Woah, calm down!" I said at last, trying to turn my head to get a better look at my soon-to-be-murderer.
"Tell me!" His breathe felt hot on my face as he shouted. I could feel him pressing more and more of his weight atop me. I close my eyes and tapped helplessly at the arm pressed against my jugular. He released the pressure on my throat just a little bit, and I gasped for as much air as I could.
"I don't know!" I choked out. And it was the truth. I had no idea what was happening.
In that moment, I think Tyler believed me. The large man stepped backwards, letting me collapse to the floor in front of him. I winced in pain as I rubbed my throat.
"You don't... you don't know..?" The quarterback muttered, taking another step backwards. Suddenly Tyler's legs gave out beneath him, and the man slumped to the floor in front of me. The cheap shades he had been wearing clattered across the bathroom floor from the force of his collapse.
For the first time that day, I was able to get a good look at his face. He looked just as he had in those pictures I had taken after the final touchdown; pain, disappointment, and shame. Tears welled in his eyes as he let his shoulders fall forward, his eyes refusing to meet mine. Had the brown always seemed so... golden?
"Before, when you thought I was someone else... Who did you think you were meeting?" I asked, trying to sound as sincere as possible.
"You shouldn't get involved. I-I want... I don't want to hurt you." Whittaker said, his hands falling limply to his sides.
"What did you mean when you said something is happening to you?" I pressed further, leaning in towards the defeated looking quarterback.
The teeth, his hair, the growling, and those golden eyes... I think part of me understood what was happening to him. But the other part, the skeptical side of me, wanted to hear it from him. He bit his lip nervously, eyes flittering between me and the floor.
"Just forget what you saw. Destroy that picture. I-It's best if y-you-" The quarterback halted in mid-sentence, his entire body shivering uncontrollably for a moment. I watched the man's hands make a futile attempt to cling against the tiled floor as he pushed through the sensation. After the quakes subsided the man turned his yellow eyes to me.
"P-Please leave." Whittaker pleaded.
A moment later the man was overcome by another series of shakes. He pulled his head into his chest as he leaned over, hands once again gripping whatever they could find in effort to... to what?
Suddenly it clicked in my head. That desperation on his face... it wasn't because of the blackmail. It was the look of a man clinging to whatever sanity he still had left. At this moment, even the skeptical side of my brain agreed with me. Tyler Whittaker was a goddamned werewolf.
I had a choice. Option One was simple. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to pick myself up off the bathroom floor and take Whittakers advice. IF I got as far away as I could from the man I would be safe...
But... as I watched the quarterback writhe on the bathroom floor, a small part of me still wanted to help him. This man looked about as clueless as I did about what was happening to him. And on top of that, he had just lost his team their chance at fame.
Maybe it wasn't just my empathy that kept me in that bathroom. Maybe it also had something to do with the strange crush I had somehow formed on the guy. Or maybe my instinct to stay was part of some residual 'Mr. Cane' fantasies. But in that moment I pushed all the doubts aside and I told myself that I was here to help.
"No." I stated confidently. "I'm here to help you."
I could see Tyler's body stiffen between the shakes when I said that. He didn't speak. Instead the quarterback slowly pulled himself upright.
"I-I don't think you can, Forrest." Whittaker chuckled through gritted teeth as he raised himself to his feet. He stumbled for a moment before straightening upwards.
So he did remember me. The kid with the camera who sat next to him all those years ago...
"I can try. You're confused, and so am I... but you shouldn't have to go through this alone." I argued, watching from the bathroom floor as the man slowly walked over to the bathroom mirror. He was turned away from me as I watched him pull off the baseball cap and throw it to the floor. He leaned over the sink and angled his head in just the right way to inspect the side of his head.
I stood up as well, as I too far away to see what the man was focused on. As I drew closer I realized why Whittaker couldn't take his eyes off his ears. I couldn't as well. They were so cartoonishly stretched, it almost looked like the man was going to cosplay as an elf.
"Shit. They're worse now." Tyler muttered to himself.
"When did this start?" I asked, the two of us too transfixed by the shape of his ear.
"Three days ago, after I got bit by some guy after I-" The quarterback said before a quick burst of shoulder spasms made the man halt talking.
"This 'guy' wouldn't happen to be the person you mistook me for at first, would it?" I asked, trying to remember the double digits at the end of the username.
"Pitcher42? Yeah that's the guy. I never even got a good look at him before he-" Tyler had to stop talking once more, sweat beading down his temple.
"Why were you meeting him? And where?" I asked, stepping forward in concern. It looked like it was getting harder and harder for Tyler to stand, his knees shaking beneath his weight.
My questions caused the large man to chuckle.
"Come on, Forrest. Do I really have to spell it out for you? I w-wanted him t-to fffffff-" Tyler held the letter as he bent over, hands gripping the sink for support. I couldn't tell what was wrong with him, but it seemed to be getting worse.
"O-Okay. I get it, Tyler. You don't have to say it. Just tell me where the two of you met." I pressed, placing a hand on the quarterback's shoulder.
"Here." He hissed, eyes closed.
I stood next to him for a few minutes as he continued to fight through whatever was happening to him. I felt powerless as I stood there. His raspy breathing was getting more and more erratic, his chest heaving between gasps for air.
"Can I do anything?" I asked, a tinge of helplessness in my voice.
He didn't respond with words. Instead he slowly began to crumple to the floor. I reacted as quickly as I could, stepping behind the quarterback to catch most of his weight as he slid downwards. I was knelt behind him now, my arms wrapped around his chest. The man was a lot bigger than me, both in size and height. My cheek was pressed against his back as he settled onto the floor. I closed my eyes as I listened to the man's heart race. I pressed my hands up against his jacket, feeling the irratic heartbeat with the palm of my hand. It felt weird, practically hugging a man who towered over as he leaned against you.
"Fuck it." Tyler rasped, his voice almost a growl.
My eyes shot open as I recognized the sound of a pants zipper unfastening.
Chapter 3: "Cum Drunk"
There were more grunts and gasps from Tyler as I felt the man reposition himself against me. I gripped my arms around his chest even tighter as I heard the quarterback let out a deep moan. He was panting like a dog now as I felt him rock back against me rhythmically. I shut my eyes again; the picture of Tyler's pleasuring from the day before coming to mind. I bet he wore the same brazen look of satisfaction as he did then, his hand furiously working his shaft. I bit my lip as I found myself pushing back against him, the tightness of my own pants proving too much for me. He grunted in encouragement whenever I pushed my hips against him. I could feel my own heart beginning to race as well, my own body beginning to tremble just as his had...
Just as... Tyler's had.
Suddenly it clicked. That look. The shakes. Tyler hadn't been in pain! The quarterback had only been struggling to quell his own desires. And judging by the sounds I was hearing, Tyler was enjoying himself quite a bit. Ragged pants turned to whines of pleasure as I listened to him beat himself off. His steady pace quickened as his strokes grew bolder. Gods, this was hot. I clung to him tighter as I ground my erection against him even harder.
This caused the quarterback to stop, his whole body halting in a single second. I thought I had done something wrong. Had he forgotten I was here? Did I press too tightly around his chest? I bit my lip as I waited for him to do something... anything.
"Didn't... you say... you were here to... help?" He asked, a hint of playfulness beneath his tone.
I felt a large hand grip mine as he guided me towards his... his cock. Oh god. It was warm. And big. I couldn't even touch my fingers to my thumbs around the girth of the massive member. Tyler practically whined like a dog as I ran my hand across his length. His hand was still gripping mine as I worked his length.
While it's true that this was my first time beating someone else off, it didn't feel that different from doing it myself. His grunts and pants of encouragement only became more frequent as I picked up speed. He wanted... no, he _needed _this so badly that it was making _me _want it. I quickened my pace, matching the same intensity that I had seen him reach during that night at the locker room. With each pump of my hand I would let my fingers quickly slide back up his shaft. As his breathing grew more and more erratic I knew he was close. I continued my pace as best I could when I felt his cock spasm in my grasp spasm. He was moaning loudly now, his whole body shuddering with each twitch of his member. Soon I felt it as well. Thick, warm globs of cum began to drip down my wrist.
As his breathing subsided, so did the pace of my ministrations. Eventually I felt him grab at my wrist once more, guiding my hand up to his face. I felt his hot breathe brush against my cum covered hand, and I knew what he was about to do. Suddenly I felt a warm wetness lap against my skin. I imagined what it must've looked like as Tyler continued to collect the sticky mess on his tongue. While I had never understood how others had found licking another's hand as a sexual act before, I suddenly became incredibly aware of how intimate the contact was. Tyler must have spent over three minutes ravenously lapping up his cum as I pressed against him. The air inside the bathroom felt cool on my slobber covered skin as he finally let go of my hand. In that moment I became almost painfully aware of three things.
I had just jacked off a werewolf.
I was still incredibly horny.
I had no idea what to do now.
"Tyler?" I called out. My voice sounded strange and effeminate to my own ears after listening to the quarterback's deep grunts for the past ten minutes.
Tyler growled out an unintelligible response as he pulled away from me, my own tent now prominently jutting out from the front of my pants.
"W-What was that?" I asked, withdrawing my hands back to my sides.
"I need..." Tyler repeated. His voice sounded different to me... almost as if he was drunk.
The large man turned back towards me, and my suspicions were correct. Something was up. His blank stare and slow movements made my goosebumps. His mouth hung open, as if to speak, as a stray strand of his cum trickled down his cheek.
"T-Tyler?" I asked, readying myself to get back on my feet. Cum dripped down the quarterback's varsity jacket as he slowly leaned onto his hands and knees. While his expression may have been blank, his eyes were trained on me. Those golden eyes.
"I need more." He repeated, moving towards me on all fours.
"W-Woah. Tyler." I said, glancing between the cum on his face and the tent in my pants. My protest went unheard as he pressed forward.
This wasn't Tyler Whittaker anymore. The man in front of me had only one thing on his mind, and I had a pretty good idea what it was.
"Tyler." I repeated sternly, slowly getting back onto my feet. I tried to make it look like I wasn't prepared to bolt as I crouched to his eye level, one hand still on the floor.
The distance between us was dwindling. I took a tiny step backwards as I held a palm out in front of me.
"Do NOT come any closer!" I plead. Or at least, that's what I intended to do. However the words that left my mouth were not filled with fear, but with command.
Tyler halted in his tracks and blinked. This was not the reaction I had anticipation. I stopped moving backwards, and waited for his next move.
"B-But you're still... You need.... You've got... What..." He frowned, predatory eyes still locked on me.
"You're not thinking right, Tyler. I can tell." I said, trying to keep that authoritative tone I had used only moments ago.
"I'm not? But... You smell so... Good..." He bent over and let out a moan of frustration, bringing a hand to his forehead.
"I can't... think... right... Tyler, I-" He strained as he spoke, losing concentration halfway through. The quarterback tore his attention away from me as he brought his now cum-smeared hand down to his mouth. I stared at the kneeling man as he thoroughly lapped up as much of his own spent seed as he could.
This gave me a moment to collect my thoughts. Tyler had been bit, right? By some guy he met online? That meant that in order to become a werewolf, o-or _whatever _was happening to the jock, one had to get bit. Was the infection something like AIDS, then? No, that wasn't right at all. The infection was probably in the saliva of the attacker, not in their blood. I can't count saliva as the only source of the infection just yet. However this does let me know that the infection needs to get into the bloodstream. Well, shit. There are plenty of ways for that to happen.
I glanced back at the werewolf. There was no sign of cum on his hand anymore, and yet he continued lapping at his palm. Something was up. Before he had come, Tyler had been fine. Well, relatively speaking. At the very least the man had been able to get out a full sentence. So when had he started acting like this? Suddenly it clicked, and the puzzle pieces fell into place. He was... honestly the other word I could use to describe it was... cum drunk.
I was just in time to. It seemed that the wolf's attention was back on me. As soon as his eyes met mine I began to put my plan into action.
"You need what I got, right?" I asked, bringing a hand to cup at the half-mast tent in my pants. I spoke boldly as I had before, although I felt a little foolish saying such a line. I think a part of me enjoyed the machismo that I was imitating.
"Y-yeah." Tyler said, shaking his head.
"I'll give it to you, on one- Hey!" I shouted, pointing at him. The man had taken another step forward while I had been talking. I glared at him as I did so, making Tyler halt in his tracks. He looked up at me like a dog that had just been caught breaking a command.
And that's when I had the most insidious thought.
Chapter 4: "Sit"
There was a chance it'd work. He had responded so well to authority before. As much as I didn't want to test my luck, I couldn't help myself.
"Sit." I stated.
I watched in awe as the man in front of me sat down. Holy shit. It fucking worked. On the inside I was freaking out, but I held my composure in front of Tyler.
I wonder if I could make him roll over.
"What do you need?" I asked instead, taking a single step forward in reward for his behavior.
"Need... More..." Tyler murmured, golden eyes trained on my crotch.
"And if I give you what you need..." I began, my words trailing off as I slowly unzipped my fly. I swear it looked like he'd start drooling any second as I did so.
"I-I'll... I... I'll do anything y-you want." He said, body trembling.
Not exactly the answer I was looking for. If the werewolf had said "I'll go back to my normal self, right away!" I would have had no problem with giving it to him. However his reply would have to do.
"Good." I said, closing the gap between him and me completely. He was knelt directly in front of my crotch now, his nose merely inches away. As soon as I gave him the word he leaned in, hands reaching for my hips.
"However!" I exclaimed, making the werewolf freeze in place. I felt a small spark of arousal from that. I'd never really thought of myself as a dominant person, but I was surprised by how easily it came to me.
"You're not allowed to touch. I'll give it to you, but you have to be a good boy." I ordered, getting a little more creative with my commands. He actually responded to the puppy talk too, his eyes glancing up at towards me for a quarter second before pulling back to the source of his desires.
"A-Anything... I-I just w-want... I-I... N-Need..." He shifted impatiently, his exposed cock drooling more of his probably-infectious cum onto his pants leg.
"Good boy." I said once more, smiling. His cock literally seized in response, releasing an extra spurt of spent cum as he waited as patiently as he could.
I'm not going to lie to you, it was pretty easy to get myself hard after seeing a reaction like that. I dropped my pants to my knees and played with myself for a moment. I worked my cock back up to its full length as I fondled my boxers. Tyler was completely enraptured by my foreplay, his eyes refusing to blink as he took in the sight of my pleasuring. I watched the football player literally lick his lips in anticipation. If I didn't already know just how badly he wanted this, I did now.
Knowing that I had teased the drunken man enough, I slowly pulled my boxers down to my knees. The cool air felt nice and refreshing on my trapped member. It felt slick to the touch, which I could only account to the generous amount of pre and sweat I had been generating from all the grinding I had done earlier. I pressed my thumb up against the head of my cock, pre-cum beginning to bead out of my slit. Tyler whined like a dog, leaning as far forward as he could.
It was weird jerking off with your non-dominant hand, but that one was clearly out of commission due to Tyler's dog-slobber. While at first it was hard to pick up a rhythm, I soon found a comfortable pace. It felt good to finally have my hands around my shaft after all this time. The slickness of my length combined with the incredible foreplay was more than enough to bring me to the edge in mere minutes. All the while Tyler waited patiently, his cock standing back up at full mast.
"Hands to yourself, Tyler." I warned through gritted teeth, stepping even closer to the man. I angled my cock down towards the bathroom floor as I spoke, cupping my free hand beneath my shaft. I wouldn't be able to give him all of it, but at least he wouldn't be licking it up off the bathroom floor.
Although...
The mere thought of Tyler diligently lapping up my mess off the tiled floor was all I needed to teeter over the edge. I let out a moan as I felt my shaft seize, filling my hand with spurt after spurt of seed. Tyler whined as he shifted uncomfortably in place. I took a small step backwards, extending my cum slathered hand outwards to Tyler.
For the second time that night, I watched my college's football star eat cum out of my hand like it was candy. You'd think it wouldn't be as satisfying the second time, but it was. With my free hand I pulled up pants, being extra careful to avoid touching my shaft with my hand. I took a mental note to clean my hands in the faucet in front of me as soon as possible... but first...
I glanced back down at Tyler's cock. All seven inches bobbed up and down in want as the jock worshipped my hand. While I wasn't sure if giving Tyler what he said he needed was the answer, I was in too deep to back out now. I knelt down, slowly pushing the athlete onto his back. He did so easily, not letting my hand leave his attention for a single moment. He moaned as I massaged his member, hips bucking into his grip as I brought him to orgasm once more.
After that he started retaining information I told him.
Just to be safe, I coaxed _another _load out of him. Whether this newfound virility came from the whole 'werewolf' thing or not, the guy was still getting hard. By this point my arms were getting pretty tired, so I hoped that his understanding of simple math questions was enough of a sign to warrant progress.
I washed my hands for the fifth time in ten minutes. I glanced at Tyler in the bathroom mirror. He had fallen asleep. I'd stepped out of the bathroom for just a moment and the big guy had fucking fallen asleep on me. At least he had been replying with full sentences now. I pulled out my phone to check the time. It was already nine o'clock at night.
"Hey." I said, nudging the snoozing jock's shoulder with my shoe.
His only reply was a soft snore. I sighed. I guess cumming three times was pretty tiring... Although I don't think the bathroom was the most sanitary place for this. I thought back to the moment where I had fantasized about Tyler licking my cum off the floor and shuddered. Uck. Had I really thought that? Seriously Forrest? That was gross, even for you.
"Hey! Tyler!" I shouted, kicking him lightly in the rib.
Tyler's eyes slowly opened. He sat up and looked around, one hand idly rubbing the sleep out of his eye.
"What?" The jock murmured, turning his attention to me.
"It's late. I'm taking you back to my place." I said, putting my phone back in my pocket.
"What... what happened?" Tyler asked, looking genuinely confused.
"Are you telling me that you don't remember?" I asked, annoyance slipping through my tone.
"No I... I remember you, but... I don't really remember falling asleep." He said, scratching his head.
"You were like... cum drunk. You couldn't think of anything except my cock for a little while." I stated flatly.
He looked a little ashamed about that. His mouth thinned and he looked down at the floor.
"Oh. Did I... do anything bad?" Tyler asked. I could hear the concern in his voice. It was actually pretty cute.
"No, Tyler. You didn't actually do anything that 'bad'. You were actually quite well behaved." I grinned, watching his embarrassment skyrocket.
"I think... I remember something like that." Tyler said, hand instinctively reaching to cover his groin.
"So you _can _remember it?" I asked.
"Not all of it. Just bits. And pieces." The large jock hoisted himself to his feet as he spoke.
"Has something like this happened before?" I pressed, thinking back to yesterday night.
"Yeah. I don't really remember much after the game ended. I kind of... blacked out then, too. I just remember being so... horny. When you were there it was easier... I can't really describe it. When I cum, it just makes me hornier. B-but when I... you know..." Tyler recalled, gesturing towards me.
"Eat _my _cum." I clarified.
"Yeah. T-That. It helped like... douse the 'fire' in my mind. I dunno... It was... filling." Whittaker shrugged.
"Well I'm glad to be of service. For now, we should get going. It's getting dark." I said, handing Tyler's sunglasses and hat back to him. I didn't know if we would run into anyone on the way back to my apartment, but I'd rather not have the guy with pointy ears and golden eyes attracting any... unwanted attention.
As I opened the door to the bathroom I paused. I felt like I was forgetting something incredibly important. In a few moments it hit me and I turned back towards the quarterback.
"Oh wait, Tyler. You need to take off that jacket as well." I said, extending an open hand back out to him.
Chapter 5: "An Awful Lot Like Flirting"
The walk to my apartment was quick, as the place was only a few minutes off campus. The small building complex was comprised of rather spacious studio apartments.
I had spent the duration of the trip back lecturing him about the potentially dangerous properties of his saliva.
"Honestly I don't even know if it _is _the saliva, and to be honest I'm not really interested in finding out any time soon." I added, keys jingling as I turned the knob to my apartment door.
I opened the door and let my guest lead the way inside. He glanced around the place as he entered, as if appraising it. My unmade bed sat in the corner of the room, my laptop and workstation in the opposite corner. The kitchen was small, but I made good use of it. I paused for a moment, my mind racing to recall the latest state of my bathroom. Feeling pretty confident that I hadn't left any of my toys out in the open, I quickly dismissed the concern.
"So... does that mean we can't kiss?" He asked disappointingly, placing a hand behind his head as he turned back towards me.
"It's your fluids in contact with my bloodstream that I'm worried about." I said, walking up next to him. The conversation quickly reminded me that I was still clutching Tyler's jacket, and I threw the balled up clothing into my hamper.
"Good. I'd hate to not be able to kiss you." He said, smiling.
"Good? If I didn't know any better, Tyler, I'd say that sounded an awful lot like flirting." I chided playfully.
"Did you not think I was?" The jock asked unsurely, shuffling in place.
"Well, honestly? It felt more like I was just an extra pair of hands for a while." I had said it with a smile, but I could tell immediately that I had hurt the big guy.
"Oh. I... I'm sorry." Tyler began, wringing his hands together as he looked down at me nervously.
"You don't have to apologize, Tyler. You're cute. It's just that we haven't really done something other than-"
I was interrupted as a pair of lips pressed tightly against mine. I stood there, a little stunned. How could a man who acted so tentatively kiss just as confidently? I closed my eyes, hands reflexively reaching for his hips. I felt press up against the base of my spine, and I practically melted. I opened my mouth a tiny bit as his other hand ran through my hair, making it easy for his tongue to slip into my mouth. The larger than average tongue coiled and writhed around mine in ways I had never experienced. It was new and exciting... in more ways than one.
I suddenly pulled away from him and took a deep breath, trying my best to collect my thoughts. His forehead was pressed against mine, our bulges just barely brushing up against each other's bodies. He was panting again; those golden eyes staring back into mine.
"Wait. Let's just... wait a second. That was great, but... Maybe we shouldn't do this just yet." I said hesitantly.
"B-But." Tyler shuddered as he watched me take a step away from him. The jock looked like he was fighting a mental battle not to pull me back into another kiss. In that moment, I questioned just how hard it was for Tyler to hold himself back.
"Just listen, Tyler. I know that you're probably feeling a little... overwhelmed... but I want to help fix the issue, not wind you up even further. All I'm suggesting is a little bath." I offered, watching the troubled jock's expression change to one of intrigue.
"Strip out here, I'll be back in a minute." I said, already heading towards the bathroom. Tyler nodded eagerly as he fumbled with the button on his pants.
I left the door open as I entered the large bathroom. The place had its pros and cons, just like any bathroom did. For instance it didn't have a shower, but the bathtub was ginormous. However in order to make up for the large installment, my sink and toilet were smashed into the corners of the room. I idly checked my appearance in the mirror as I washed my hands for the sixth time.
"I've been thinking, and I want to ask you some questions." I hollered.
"O-Okay. I'll tell you as much as I can." Tyler shouted back.
"Does my cum satiate you at all? You described it as 'filling' a while back." I asked, drying my hands before beginning my own strip.
"I... I guess. It's kind of like if your sexual desires had a 'craving'. Like you can't get the thought of it out of your mind until you've had it." Tyler replied.
"Okay. So let's say that you deny yourself these 'cravings'. Then you can't help yourself, right?" I questioned.
"Y-Yeah." Tyler admitted.
"See, I've got this idea that maybe your cumdrunkenness is less like an overdose and more like a... a rebound. Like maybe your body really needs this stuff, and if you don't give it what it wants you get all loopy." I explained.
"I guess that could be it. But... do we really have to call it 'cumdrunk'?" Tyler asked.
I chuckled slightly to myself as I rummaged around my bottom sink drawer, placing all of the upcoming essentials on the countertop.
"I dunno man, you were acting pretty drunk back there. You want me to record it next time?" I asked.
"It wouldn't be the first time you've taken a picture of me." He joked.
"Har har." I said, rolling my eyes. I could hear his laughter from around the corner. The sound of it was rich and vibrant, and it made me smile.
"Can I come in, now?" He asked, rapping his knuckles on the bathroom door.
"Yeah." I replied, having just finished adjusting the temperature of the bath.
I think a part of me had almost forgotten the fact that the football player had been bit by a werewolf. However seeing the man stand stark naked helped jog my memory pretty fast.
What I had assumed to be a rather thick bush of pubes from yesterday had actually been a forest of hair. No, at this point I think fur was the only word to describe it. Tyler was self-consciously running a hand through his thick happy trail, which ran all the way up to his pecs. His upper chest, shoulders, and forearms were also covered in fur. The entire inside of his thighs were lined in a thick pelt, and the area around groin was still the same dark brown it had always been. The familiar sight of his seven inch member swung eagerly in front of him as he stepped forward. It was cute watching Tyler blush in embarrassment as I looked him over.
While my body was nowhere nearly as sculpted as a quarterback's, I was proud of my lithe figure. The jock's ogling was even more obvious than mine, his eyes firmly locked on the source of his cravings. I crossed my arms and stared at the dazed werewolf, waiting for the man to tear his eyes away from me.
"I uh... W-What are we gonna do?" He asked suddenly, pushing whatever tantalizing fantasies had just been entertaining.
"Well, I have a few solutions to our problems." I said, motioning at the five objects I had placed on the counter.
Tyler's face grew bright red when he noticed the condoms, lube, a butt plug, and an enema. However he blushed even harder when he noticed that the bright red silicone shaft standing next to these objects had a canine knot.
Chapter 6: "Call Me Sir"
"W-Why are y-you w-wrapping up as well?" Tyler asked, his voice trembling as he played with his back hole.
The werewolf sat in the tub, two fingers idly plying himself open as he waiting for me to join him.
"I don't really want to risk any extra contamination." I explained, tentatively rolling the rubber around my member.
"O-Okay. So a-are you ready?" He stammered, his patience wearing thinner by the moment.
"In a second. One final thing." I muttered, turning back to the counter.
I knelt down onto the bathroom floor, my ass slightly bobbing above the floor as I angled myself appropriately. With one hand gripping the countertop, I reached for the butt plug.
"Gotta make sure all entrances are sealed. Can't be too safe, you know?" I said, positioning the black bulb directly beneath my pucker. I could feel Tyler's eyes fixated on me and I began my descent.
Having already lubed myself up plenty, the tip of the toy was met with little resistance. As the slippery toy began to spread me wider and wider, I let more of body weight descend upon the plug. I closed my eyes as I felt my entrance tauten. This moment was the best and worst part about taking it up the ass. I took a deep breath and relaxed, honing in on the sensation of the member slowly and steadily sinking inside me. It'd been a while since I'd taken anything in the rear, and I winced a bit when the toy reached critical mass. However as quickly as the pain came, it was gone, the rest of the toy slipping easily inside. I released a deep sigh as my cheeks planted firmly on the bathroom floor, the toy nestled deep within me.
"D-Damn. I'd almost forgotten how that feels." I said, mostly to myself. I turned to look back at my onlooker and smiled.
"Now it's your turn." I said, cautiously pulling myself to my feet.
"Y-Yeah." Tyler nodded numbly, his mouth hanging open slightly.
The bath was warm to the touch as I slipped in on the opposite side of the bath. Our knees met in the middle of the bath, but there was more than enough room to entwine our legs together.
"Okay Tyler. Let's awaken the teenager in us and play a little game of truth or dare. You know... icebreakers." I said, settling into the bath.
"S-Sure. I'll go first. Truth." Tyler said, withdrawing all three of his fingers from his rear.
I thought about it for a moment as I stroked idly at my needy member. I glanced around the room for inspiration, my eyes eventually settling upon him. The man was staring longingly at the silicone shaft I had bought on a rather unique online store.
"Got any kinks, Tyler?" I asked.
He shuffled in place and smiled thinly, looking up at me with the face of someone who had just been caught doing something bad. This was made only funnier by the fact that the man had just been openly fingering himself in front of me for the past ten minutes.
"I don't really know. I've never really explored all that much. I guess I uh... really like... uh..." He squirmed, his eyes refusing to meet mine more more than a few seconds.
"Oh come on, Tyler. It can't be that bad." I said, nudging him in the knee with my foot.
"It's feet. I uh. I really like f-feet." He blurted out, tensing at the sound of his own confession.
Huh. I hadn't expected that. From the way he was ogling that dildo I was sure I had found myself a closet furry. But hey, I wasn't one to knock another man's kink.
"You mean like this?" I asked, slowly extending my leg outwards.
I brought a foot up to his inner thigh and nuzzled his fur. It felt exactly like running my finger through someone's hair. As I drew my foot closer to the groin, I angled the ball of my toes to press up against his wrapped shaft. Tyler moaned as I rolled his cock back and forth from beneath my pressure. The sound that came out of the jock's mouth was utterly delightful. Just how worked up was he?
"You like that?" I asked, scooting forward. I continued to twirl his shaft around with my foot, listening to the tiny bouts of moans that he'd release.
"Tell me, Tyler. How often do you think about a guy doing this to you?" I persisted, pulling my foot out of the water and dangling it in front of Tyler's face.
"I-I think about it s-sometimes." The jock admitted, his face red with embarrassment.
"And when you're fantasizing about someones foot... what are they doing?" I asked, genuinely curious. To be honest I had no idea what to do with a foot fetishist.
"Well I uh.. you... uh... I like to lick them... And clean them. And uh... get stepped on." The quarterback listed, staring at the toes in front of him.
"Why?" I pressed, wiggling my toes slowly. The changing man licked his lips as I did so, cock bobbing beneath the waters.
"Because feet are attractive to me." He explained.
"Are my feet attractive?" I wiggled them once more as I spoke.
"Yeah. Lots." He nodded.
"So if I did... this... you'd like it?" I asked, pressing my foot against his face. The man had been anticipating this, and eagerly opened his mouth. Three of my toes curled around his teeth, and I felt that slick tongue of his swirl around each one of them. I found myself getting turned on as I watched him bathe my foot in his slobber. Not because of the physical act itself, but because of the intensity in his performance. He cleaned my foot with a dedication I had never seen before. It wasn't long before I found myself lifting my other foot out of the water to watch him continue to slave away at me. At my body. At _my _feet.
I stroked myself as he worked, his own fingers returning back to his rear end. I must have let him play for minutes, too enraptured by his persistence. That familiar stirring of dominance I had felt only hours ago returned in full force, and I found myself roughhousing with him, pushing back and pressing his face against the bathroom wall. Eventually I felt his enthusiasm ebbing, and I returned my feet to his groin. I idly stroked the wrapped member with the balls of my feet as I watched him buck and thrust against me.
"I guess it's my turn. I'll choose truth." I said casually, grinning from ear to ear as I continued my teasing.
"W-W-Why d-d-don't y-you w-want to b-be a w-werewolf." Tyler stammered.
The question caught me off guard, and I stopped in my tracks. I frowned and looked down at the water, the question repeating in my head.
"I... I'm just not sure we should both be going through the same thing at the same time. We barely know anything about... what's... going on and... I don't really know. I don't know. /We/ don't know. I can't just-" My smile had vanished as I rambled, my mind reeling through all the unknown possibilities.
"No. I get it, Forrest. I do. You don't have to continue." Tyler said, realizing that he had just broken the mood.
"C'mon. Next question. Seriously, forget about it Forrest. I choose dare." Tyler continued, cock twitching beneath my feet.
"Well... if it's a dare... I dare you to call me 'sir' for the rest of this bath." I said, my grin returning. To be honest I had been entertaining the thought for a few minutes now.
"What? But Forrest, I-" Tyler began.
"Ah, ah!" I interrupted, waving a finger.
"But _sir _I don't want you to take this the wrong way but... you're nowhere near as big as me. I don't even think you're older than me." Tyler explained.
"Well don't take /this/ the wrong way, but you don't take me as the dominant type, Mr. 'I've Got Four Fingers Stuffed Up My Ass'." I said, pointing a big toe at his stuffed hole.
"So says Mr. "Butt Plug." Tyler retorted.
"Those are precautionary measures. Come on, Tyler. Don't tell me you don't like the idea of calling me sir when I do this." I said, lifting my foot back out of the water and onto Tyler's cheek. The man easily let the foot pin him to the bathroom wall.
"Your point?" Tyler asked.
"Ah, ah!" I chimed, waving a finger.
"Your point, sir?" Tyler asked again.
I squeezed his shaft with my foot once more, causing the man to let out a soft gasp.
"My point is that deep down, you like this, don't you boy?" I teased.
Before Tyler could retort I parted his lips with my big toe, which made the man let out a low moan of approval. I rewarded this behavior with another squeeze of his shaft. We sat like that for a few more moments, working each other into a steady rhythm of strokes. I could tell I was starting to lose him as the cumdrunk stare start to set in.
"I believe its your turn, sir." Tyler offered.
"Well then I believe its time for a dare." I replied, smiling.
Tyler thought about it for a moment. As he sat there, dramatically scratching his chin, he slowly sunk down further into the bath.
"I think... I dare you..." Tyler began before quickly climbing atop me. The water splashed around him violently as he did so, causing some of it to spill out of the tub.
We were kissing now, our bodies rolling against each other with wild abandon. The unsteady pace of our futile thrusts against each other caused waves of water to slap against each other. There was passion in that kiss. There was need. There was...
God damnit, I wanted to fuck him.
TO BE CONTINUED