Susie Gets to Be a Werewolf

So there's this guy—is it a guy?—on literotica who says he wants "erotica featuring female characters who have big ole dicks". But then, as if that weren't enough, he says "what if you were a werewolf but your lycan form didn't necessarily match your sex?"

How about it, Susie?—I say to myself.

I've always wanted a dick, not permanently, but just for a day or two. I imagine me and my dick going on a power trip. I want to make a girl squirm the way I do when I'm on all fours, when I'm panting with my tongue out as Mr Dick tops off my pussy. Is being a werewolf once a month, on the full moon, the answer?

You bet it is.

It just so happens I know a place where tourists are gruesomely murdered. It's a small town in Scotland. We keep our secrets. So that's where I go—where everybody in my town knows not to go on a full moon. Out of respect for the mods, let's just say being turned into a werewolf is a very—special?—kink. It's not like vampires. Vampires are neat-freaks. If Werewolves were geeks and human beings were cheez-its, you'd be vacuuming up people-crumbs for months. Let's just say that the next day I was an immortal werewolf. So, yay?

I was on pins and needles until the next full moon, and then the transformation hit. The fur started growing, the nails started lengthening, and my mouth turned into a snout. But here's the thing that made me howl and pant. My clit was elongating. It felt like somebody was sucking on it and sucking, making it stretch and thicken. And, okay, I'm just going to admit it— At the very end, when my clit had lengthened into this—how did he put it?—big ole monster dick; when I turned into this furry girl with a massive, black-tipped monster jutting from my thighs, I might have had an orgasm. Those huge balls might have tightened right up. I might have sprayed the floor, the couch, the wall behind the couch, grandma's portrait. I just kept spurting cum and howling until the very last shudder. And let me tell you—a guy's orgasm?—AWESOME! You haven't lived, ladies, until you've felt those strings of semen being squeezed out of your body. Then I was snacky AF.

So I went out and wouldn't you know it, I scented a pretty boy wandering the moors way past his bedtime. He was gorgeous, mid-thirties, fit, full head of hair, French.

I ate him.

It was like eating a cream-filled French pastry. And then in a fit of guilt and remorse I left his kidneys on the welcome mat of his Airbnb. I mean, I'm always kind of touched when my cat leaves me livers and kidneys. I knew I'd done the right thing when I heard the screams of joy and gratitude.

But anyway, I had another 29.5 days (I googled it okay?) to find a support group, and I found one. There were eleven of us sitting on folding chairs in a circle. One of them, whose pronouns were 'they and them', saw me and flipped out. "It's you!" they said. "I remember you! You lived! I'm so sorry. I was mortified." And then all the other werewolves (I mean, they weren't in werewolf form) snapped their fingers in approval and clapped. "Good job, Alice," they all said.

"Sorry about your liver," said bi-wolf.

"It's okay, I grew a new one."

"And your rib."

"Same."

"And your right foot."

"Fine by morning. So you're a non-binary, Werewolf?" I asked.

"Just call me a bi-wolf."

"I ask because I turned into a huge werewolf with a monster dick. Also, I sprayed my couch, my carpet and my grandmother and I think I might have ruined the paint job on my wall because, you know, who knew semen is a paint stripper?"

"Oh my God!" said bi-wolf, and then said, "I'm so sorry. I hope that's okay? I mean, I had no idea! Until you, nobody survived. You're a big step for me. I just want you to know that. I'm here for you. We're all here for you. I mean, we're more than werewolves. We're carewolves; and also I'm really sorry you sprayed everywhere. I hope you didn't ruin anything. Trust me, I know all about spraying."

"Nah, it's okay. You want to know the funny thing? I want to stick my were-cock up a guy's ass and pump the spunk out of him. I want to make him squeal. I want him to shoot his spunk while my cock is all up inside him. What would that feel like? Would his insides squeeze me like a girl's? Are guys just girls with dicks? But anyway, I'm okay with that. I wanted to do that even when I didn't have a dick. But having a dick makes me all power-trippy."

And then I started wondering what it would be like to be pegged as a guy.

Prostate orgasms sound pretty sweet.

"You want to know the secret, hon?" bi-wolf asked. "Here's what you do. On the day before the full moon, eat nothing but meat. Just eat, hon. Eat meat all day and every hour in between. Eat it all—unprocessed, fat and gristle, red meat. Eat until you're vomit-edging. Werewolfing on a full stomach is so liberating. I promise you, try it. It really helps."

On the day before the big night, I was vomit edging, then I realized I got the date wrong.

But the next night I was there. I was on time. I was ready. When the transformation hit, I made it without spraying. I just want to say, in my defense, that a cock is really just a monster clit. Imagine ladies, if your clit's surface area were all of a sudden as big as your nose. 1.) You'll grok guys like never before. 2.) You'll grok two-pump-chumps like never before. 3.) You'll want to stick it in something like never before—mouth, ass, cunt, jello, apple pie—it all works. A cock is a clit that you can stick way inside another human being.

Just let that sink in, ladies.

Now it was time to hunt. Were-cock was hungry. So. Discovery numero uno. Running with a raging hard-on isn't like carrying the spear of Achilles. Running with a staggering hard-on is like running with Mo, Larry, and Curly. Big boy bounces up and down and smacks your stomach and thighs. That was kind of ego-deflating. I felt a total lack of dignity, but then I picked up the scent of a female. For the record, I would have been happy to peg a guy. It's not like I stopped lusting after guys when clitty turned into were-cock. Anyway, first I smelled her pee. Don't even get me started on a were-wolf's sense of smell. Just by her pee, I could tell she was 22, she was married (hubby's pee and semen was mixed with her pee), she was vegetarian, she had Type AB Negative blood and she was ovulating. That's just for starters. Also, hubby was impotent. Anyway, pee-girl had just peed out in the woods and now she was closing up the barn to keep the animals safe from, you know, wolves? I watched her bring in the sheep. I crept close to the barn. And just before she'd closed the barn door, she saw me.

She screamed. Then I was chasing her inside the barn.

Where was she going to go? She ran into a stall, backed into the far corner and watched a furry, shredded, 8 foot tall, 750 pound hunched mass of muscle, cock and balls step into the stall. Pee-girl looked like she was going to scream again. I mean she inhaled like she was going to sing the National Anthem, and then she saw my cock, all twelve, long and thick inches of it—not to brag. I mean, what can I say? Something in her must have flipped when she saw it—something female and primal. She saw something that would definitely fix what she wasn't getting from hubby. And she was confused. I mean, I was terrifying. Snout. Teeth. Nails long enough to disembowel a moose. But then there was that monster cock—that big, black, spaded monster cock—long enough to turn any womb into an orgasming submissive and slave.

If she was going to scream, it was too late.

Because next thing my cock was in her mouth. She made all kinds of noises like she wanted to scream, but was choking and coughing and sucking too. It was spring. The ram was fucking the ewes in the stall next door because, you know, priorities. And having somebody suck your cock? I had no idea how power-trippy that would make me feel—in a dominant/submissive sort of way—even more than werewolfing. It's scary and a total rush. And embarrassing too, in a sort of—am I really like that?—way.

Next I'm tearing her blouse in two—because tits.

Then I'm yanking her by her ponytail onto all fours. And then the smell of her pussy. It was, excuse my language, a fucking novel—piss, fucking, orgasms, travel iteneraries—and when I pressed the spaded head of my cock against her slit, she was mewling like a bitch in heat. Each breath was a little cry. Then that beautiful groan, that beautiful eye-rolling grown as I slipped into her up-turned cunt and kept going deeper, and deeper, and deeper until a little trickle of piss dribbled down her thigh.

Then, I'm staring into hubby's eyes. He's standing outside the stall with a rifle pointed at my furry heart. I can smell the silver. I freeze. Pee-girl freezes. Hubby freezes. And— Okay, so now we're, like, into layers and layers of kink and fetish. Layers. Humiliation. M/f. Consensual non-consent. Cuck, Were-, D/S, Breed, Impreg. The list goes on and on. And it's like we all realize the same thing at the same time: me with my twelve inches in pee-girl's abdomen and her with her little cock-filled cries of mercy and more-please. It's what was in my balls, my huge black balls hanging against her clit, that her arching womb wanted. And it's what hubby wanted pee-girl's pussy to be filled with.

He shakes his rifle at me. "Got on with it," he says.

By the time I filled her orgasm with semen, pee-girl's head was down and her cunt arching behind her. She was sucking the were-sperm out of my balls, convulsing, knees wide, hands stretched and clawing the hay in front of her. She was filled from behind like a barnyard bitch.

I mean, this is what a cock does to you.

I get why it's so hard for guys to pull out—when a girl's every moan and squirm is triggering a million years of evolution.

But anyway, after that, we had this unspoken agreement. Hubby took pee-girl out to the stall and leashed her naked to the nearest barn post. He would watch while wife orgasmed on my twelve incher, orgasmed on a cunt full of sperm, orgasmed with a belly beginning to show.

Then we would go into the house and stream Netflix and snack. It was kind of embarrassing sitting with my bare, cum-smeared, were-wolf balls, cock and ass on hubby's recliner, but pee-girl got off on humiliating hubby. I was all apologetic because, you know, it's me, but then she would climb onto my lap and ride my cock like it was a fire pole. Sometimes she would make hubby suck my cock, covered with her cum and mine, and make him swallow "real" cum. Then she would make him wear an apron, make him cook these elaborate dinners for us while she rode me reverse cowgirl watching David Attenborough.

Look. Things got weird. Okay? That's all I'm saying.

We moved in together.