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3: Fera - Pack City

Page 3

by Weldon, Carys


  As you may have guessed, in Pack City, inhibitions just aren’t there. I hear I’ll have to learn some--if I want to live among humans. We’ll see how that goes. It sounds kind of fun, you know, to push the edges of what’s acceptable. I understand that the humans downtown are nothing like those I know. That the men actually, sometimes, manhandle the women.

  I’d just like to see a man try that with me. I could give him what for. Pin him on his back and grab him by the balls. Yeah, I think he’d be sorry he tried that. I wonder why human females don’t go for the goods. Hm. Maybe something I should ask Kayty sometime.

  Anyhow, most of my daydreams are pretty much re-enactments of things I’ve seen in Pack City. Like, just the other day, I had a tummyful--just eaten--and had stretched out in the shade, had my eyes closed, thinking about a nap, kind of drifting in and out.

  The sounds of licking perked up my ears, made me peek.

  This guy, who will remain nameless, had crawled on his belly--yeah, that happens a lot in Pack City. Sneaky suck-ups, that’s what I call them.

  It surprised me to see that they were in human form. Him and the woman he was with. I mean, you see it both ways in P.C. but it just caught me by surprise. Hunts are usually done in wolf form, didn’t notice anyone change back after.

  Oh, well.

  I heard her purr, which I think is what made me open my eyes in the first place. Okay, not like a cat purrs. Duh. But there’s a moaning, guttural sound that comes out of a female’s chest when you know she’s definitely liking what’s happening. She was doing that.

  So, I opened my eyes, kinda snoozy like. Yeah, I’m a voyeur. What can I say?

  I’m not apologizing. It’s the life of a dog. The life of a pre-change shifter.

  Anyhow, the chick rolls onto her back. She’s lying on a packed earth flat spot under a tree across the clearing, not really too far away from me. We have good eyes. I could see it all.

  Sun’s coming in through the leafy boughs above her, spreading dancing lights across her skin, made her look almost speckled with shadows. Drew attention to her nipples, which had puckered up.

  She wasn’t exactly beautiful, but she was sexy, the way she was lying there. Guess that’s what he thought, too. Makes me kinda smile. Smirk, you know?

  He had a look in his eyes, worshipping her, hoping she wouldn’t turn him away. Very subservient. Watching for any sign of her displeasure, all the while licking up her leg. I thought it was cool.

  I think he worked his way up from her insole. I opened my eyes about the time he got above her knee, on her inner thigh.

  She made a little noise, a squeak of pleasure when he got about four inches from her crotch. My nose twitched. I guess that’s the point when he turned her to liquid. His tongue strayed upward while I watched, and moisture formed, slid out of her, wetting the curly little pelt of hair she had surrounding her womanhood.

  I saw her reach down and put her hands on the sides of his head, lift him up so she could look him in the eye. That kind of surprised me. I thought she would just lie back and enjoy it, let him dive in. But she took a minute to get eye contact with him.

  That’s a lesson for me. I think she read his intent, searched his eyes, waited to see the begging hope. I felt the first stirrings between my legs then, because I could see it, too. And I wanted, more than anything, to see that in some guy’s eyes.

  His throat convulsed a little and he finally managed to say, “Please.”

  That bitch smiled, then dragged his face to her crotch and said, “Better fucking do it right.”

  He lapped her lower lips, sucked and slid his tongue in repeatedly. I sat up to watch. I think she reveled in the show, that I would think it was cool to watch her get this.

  She urged him several times. “Deeper, harder.”

  Once, she said, “Faster, you fuck.” And I saw her squirm then. She was holding his head to her, not letting him up for air.

  I could smell that she was close. And that’s when she pushed him away. Told him, “Hold up.”

  I don’t know which one of us was breathing harder. Definitely had a tingling going on through the center of my being, spiraling down from my navel to my cunt. And I was wet. Holy hell, was I wet.

  She had her head back, eyes closed, and her hands on her own nipples, tweaking them more. And suddenly both their heads came up and turned toward me. Guess they smelled my interest.

  The bitch clawed him up, sort of pulled him atop her and told him, “Fuck.”

  He plunged into her without a second thought, ramming her, really, but he was watching me. It lasted all of about two seconds before he grunted out his business. I had to get up and move then.

  But the thing about Pack City, when it’s in the air, it’s in the air. You can’t turn a corner without seeing something like that.

  Chapter Two

  Everybody’s seen two dogs fucking. They sniff. They lick. She backs up and he climbs on. There’s a little bouncing action and then they’re stuck together.

  That’s because a canine’s cock head swells after he comes. I think it happens to help guarantee that the sperm go up inside, instead of leak out. Bitch almost always gets pregnant.

  When a werewolf is in wolf form, it seems that it always happens. He swells. They’re stuck. At least for a few minutes. When a wereman is in human form, it rarely happens. Almost never happens.

  But hell if it ain’t funny when you turn a corner and see it. It’s about the most perverse form of penile dysfunction you can get, I think.

  So I leave the main clearing at P.C., slip through a few trees, skirt the council cave, thinking I’ll go and find a drink. Maybe cool off in the creek or something.

  But there, at the edge of the water, is the funniest thing I ever saw.

  I guess I should back up and explain something. Shifting forms is an art. Some of us just do it, with no conscious thought. We don’t know how it happens. Emotions, usually anger, tend to set the shift into gear.

  Some can control their shifting. That usually comes with age. Except, like I said, most of us don’t live that long. Every now and then, ya get lucky, and just know how to do it. But our emotions totally rule us. And our base nature, I don’t care if we’re born human or in wolf form, is to be a dog. But that’s my take.

  Anyhow, I loped toward the sound of water splashing, people yelling. At first, I thought they were just having fun out there, ya know?

  Several other people and wolves were lazing around, laughing. I sat back on my haunches to watch the show, figure out what was happening.

  “Fera,” my brother says to me. “You see that?”

  “Yeah.” But I wasn’t sure what it was. A man and a woman thrashing around in the water.

  “That’s what you get when you fuck the imbeciles.”

  My brother is a supremacist. Believes in separation of the classes. An order to all things. Thinks that those born wolves, who can shift, are the highest race on the planet. I like his logic.

  Trying to be clever, I asked, “What? Water sport?”

  “Yeah.”

  My head swung back toward the water. I moved my tongue around inside my cheek, trying to figure out what was so bad about what they were doing.

  “First, he tried to urinate on her.”

  I arched my neck, stretched out, kept watching ahead of me. Lots of people like that sort of thing. I hadn’t quite decided yet, but I narrowed my gaze, tried to picture the beginning to the now-alligator-rolling couple. They were definitely thrashing around. She was trying to get free of him and he was hanging on, I think. It was hard to tell.

  “Aimed at her mouth.”

  I wrinkled my nose. Finally, I turned my head and asked, “Standing up, human?”

  He laughed. “Yeah.”

  The picture in my head really was kind’ve funny. I asked, “So, she didn’t really like that or what?”

  “She put up with it.”

  There are some rules at P.C. No sex without consent.

  �
�Well, did she open her mouth or not?” I shook my head when he didn’t answer right away. Like that was something I wanted to be held in suspense over. I grumbled, “Never mind.” Then I mentioned, “I’ve seen them together before.”

  “Everybody has.”

  The girl in the water came up spluttering, found her footing. And her partner yelled, “Thank Gaia! Will you just stand still for a few minutes now?”

  “I think they just like the attention. They are having a good time.” I really did think that. I saw no reason not to say it.

  “Maybe. But he’s a loser, Fera. Stay away from him.”

  “Why does he want her to stand still?”

  “Dolt half-shifted, told her to shift in the middle.”

  That made me gasp...and narrow my gaze a little more. Sure enough, I could see some tell-tale signs of half-in, half-out on both of them. My eyes popped. I stuck my lips out.

  “Yeah. Freaks.”

  That never cuts it in Pack City. Does something to the genetics, like the seed itself is in half warp. It’s almost like interbreeding within the breeding.

  But, the two of them were out there in the water and she leans forward, screaming, “Get it out!”

  “I can’t, baby.” The guy’s coaxing her. “Just relax.”

  “I can’t relax, you moron! There’s a crinos head inside of me, swelling up.”

  “You’d think that would feel good, to a point. I mean, the slow pressure building up inside,” my brother explained to me, “But it’s painful. Too tight. Too dry. And they’re in water, to boot. Natural lubrication is ruined.”

  Again, I looked over at him. “How do you know so much, you try it?”

  He laughed hoarsely, like the dog he was, but he shook his head. “Nah. Seen it before.”

  “Oh.”

  “The biggest problem with the whole thing is, well, just watch. She’s fixing to get mad.”

  And she was. A minute later, the hair on the back of her neck stood up, and sprouted out. Her nose started to stretch. I saw her claws extend. And probably the funniest thing was the expression on his face. It was a definite ‘Holy Shit’. He started backing up, dragging her with him by the connection they had at crotch level.

  Oh, was he backpedaling fast. And that just pissed her off more because she couldn’t get her balance.

  Now, you’d think that her going crinos would help the situation. She’d grow in size, maybe be able to accommodate him better. And that may be, but more importantly, a bitch in crinos is fury unleashed. Muscled monster. She was just as likely to do a kegel and lop off his scrawny little head inside her as she was to turn around and swipe off his stupid look--at the neck.

  Either way it looked like he was screwed, in the full sense of the word.

  I had to ask, “Was it good, before it turned? He came, didn’t he?”

  My brother laughed. “Yeah, but she didn’t.”

  That made me wince. No wonder she was really pissed. That’s one of the first rules of sex. See to your partner’s personal pleasure before your own. Even I knew that.

  So, they were backing up, and both were getting mad then. And they kind’ve trampled over another couple that had been oblivious, or ignoring them. And then all hell broke out. Imagine these connected...people...spinning, trying to defend themselves from fang one and fang two. I decided that slipping away was a good plan.

  Chapter Three

  I hope I’m not boring you, but I had to explain how things are done in Pack City, so you could understand what happened to me next.

  It seemed like I should get out; maybe run a bit, clear my head. Too many visual aids for sex, and no partner to do it with. And I’m telling you, my hormone levels were going whacko.

  As I passed some males discussing world affairs, their heads came up. And I mean, all their heads.

  I had a sudden frisson of fear climb over me when one called out, “Hold it right there.” I suppose it’s the smell of arousal in the air.

  Tensing, I tried to tell myself, “Relax. This pack of dogs isn’t scary. They’ve never bothered you before.”

  But I’d never been at first shift prime before. Didn’t even realize that it had started.

  Very slowly, I turned my head, tipped it sideways and asked, “What do you want?”

  The one talking was a wolf of medium build. Did I mention that they were all in lupus, looking like wolves? Mostly, they were a shaggy lot. A little mangy. The single contingent of the pack. Good backups, not outcasts, but definitely not of the ilk my brother and Leer were. They wouldn’t have said a word to me, if my brother had been anywhere around. These were among the imbeciles in my brother’s estimation.

  They laughed. All the hoarse little humor of true dogs. It irritated me.

  Probably the shift coming on. Moodiness is one of the first signs.

  Mr. Vocal says, “Where you going?”

  I squinted, wondering, what does he care? But I didn’t say anything, just tried to judge their mood.

  That wasn’t really hard. Their cocks were hanging, pink and stiff, moist and ready.

  Now, I don’t want to sound like a snob, especially since I was born a wolf--but I’m a woman. And at that moment, my entrapment in wolf form was getting old. I didn’t like cheap thrill dogs. Correction, I didn’t want any cheap thrill from any of those dogs.

  But instantly, visions of them chasing me down, raping me, came to mind. They’d done it before--to others. Oh, nobody could prove it--but girls had cried about it. Sometimes for weeks. The thing is, with something like that, they say you can’t tell them apart; the faces all blend together. You try to put the nightmare out of mind.

  I knew that one of the mistakes most of the girls had made was running. We’re predators, hello. Want to stimulate that hunting instinct, offer up a little chase for a tail-sniffing type and you’re gonna run your legs off, until they outwit you and cut you off.

  So, I really struggled with the fear of being raped. Tried not to show it in my eyes, but I was damn scared. Felt like a real girl.

  Somewhere in my brain, though, my wit managed to surface. Instead of running, I sat down and noted, “I see you’re all up for a little action.”

  “Politics always gets us going.”

  “Oh, is that it?” I didn’t believe Mr. Vocal. Guess he was the only one with a tongue.

  “Care to give us a run?”

  My nose wrinkled. I asked, “Care to give me a show?”

  They laughed.

  I didn’t move. When they stopped laughing, I asked, “Well?”

  Mr. Vocal frowned for a minute, then asked, “What kind of show did you have in mind, little one?”

  Now, I’m not that damn little, and it’s a total insult to be, in any way, told you’re a runt--especially when you’re anything but. It definitely pissed me off.

  Looking directly at his ready staff, I said, “Listen, ya little peckerhead, I’d like to see a little fucking respect.”

  That got their attention. They blinked over that.

 

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