Chapter 19 #3
After another minute, I felt a tap on my shoulder and snapped my eyes open. Roscoe hovered over me.
“Looks like we’re in,” he said with a relieved smile as I sat up.
The five ferals sat in a semi-circle around the fire, each one staring at us expectantly.
“So, what now?”
“I guess we’ll see if they wanna talk.” Roscoe reached into the box and grabbed a bottle of beer before holding it out in front of him. “You guys, uh… wanna trade?”
The wild werewolves turned to each other before looking back at Roscoe with blank stares.
“This might be tougher than I thought,” he said, setting the beer on the ground next to his leg.
“I thought you knew what you were doing.”
“Well, they didn’t kill us, so I guess I didn’t fuck that up.”
“This is just instilling all kinds of confidence,” I whispered, eyeing the ferals as they sat rigid, their glowing eyes following our movements. “I’m getting creeped out.”
One finally stood and reached into a pouch that hung from a crude rope belt he wore. He pulled out a small bundle of herbs wrapped in some kind of frayed fiber and offered it to Roscoe while pointing to the bottle.
“Oh! I think I remember this stuff,” he said excitedly, his tail patting the ground as he flicked the cap off the bottle and exchanged it for the herbs.
“What the hell are we going to do with that?”
“Smoke it,” Roscoe answered, wetting his lips with his tongue while untying the twine. “Ah, damn. Don’t have a pipe, though.” He sat the herbs on the ground next to him, then reached into the box again for the package of Swiss Rolls.
Roscoe waited as each of the wolfmen took turns drinking from the same bottle.
They didn’t seal their lips around the end; instead, poured the contents directly onto their tongues.
Their neck fur pricked up as the beverage fizzed and foamed, filling their mouths while dripping from the corners of their thin black lips.
Roscoe held up the cakes, and another feral stood and eagerly walked over, thick saliva starting to rope from his mouth.
Roscoe made a gesture as though he were smoking, and the feral picked up on it right away, reaching into his own pouch before pulling out a long pipe decorated with colorful gems.
In a friendly exchange, Roscoe took the pipe, and the wild werewolf grabbed the snacks before rejoining the others.
“This is goin’ great.” He held the pipe in one hand, pinched off some of the herbs, then stuffed it into the bowl. “Yer gonna love this shit.”
“I’m not smoking some strange weed from these guys. I don’t trust them.”
“All the more reason to get high,” Roscoe said, picking up a small stick and poking the end into the campfire. “Trust me. I’ve done this a lot.”
“You don’t even remember your last name. How would you even remember that?”
Roscoe pulled the flaming stick out of the fire and put it up to the pipe to light the herbs. He drew in deep then coughed before turning to me, his pupils tiny as each eye stared in slightly different directions.
“That’s some goooood shit,” he said with another cough, his voice pitching a bit higher. He held the pipe in front of me. “You like weed, don’t you?”
“I know what weed is.”
“This is just like that, kinda.” He shoved the pipe into my hand. “C’mon. Stop bein’ such a mud in the stick,” he said, his words slurring to the point where I could barely understand him.
“This could be dangerous.”
“Pipe the smoke, ya nerd.”
“Christ,” I muttered, grabbing the pipe.
This was a terrible idea, but Roscoe wasn’t going to let up.
Plus, he wasn’t making sense anymore. After a moment of hesitation, I took a draw, which was a lot more potent than anything I’d breathed in before.
The smoke tasted like burnt sage mixed with nutmeg.
It irritated my lungs, sending me into a similar coughing fit Roscoe experienced earlier. “Oh my God, I can’t…”
The world started to melt into brilliant colors all around, and time slowed to a crawl as Roscoe waved his hand in front of me in a slow motion trail.
“Feels great, doesn’t it?” Though Roscoe just spoke to me, that wasn’t his accent. That wasn’t even his voice. “It’s always quite riveting the first time, but you start to grow accustomed to the feeling. It reminds me of DMT, but better.”
“What the fuck’s you talkin’ about?” I said, barely able to control my tongue. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing,” Roscoe replied, his words becoming clearer and more astute than they’d ever been. “Sit back and enjoy the trip, buddy.”
“More bubbles,” a voice from across the fire spoke. “What to trade to get more bubbles?” It was one of the ferals. Though his English was broken, I understood him perfectly.
Roscoe grabbed a few more bottles from the box, holding them by the necks in front of the salivating werewolves, some still gnawing on the sweet cakes.
“Perhaps this will persuade you to take us to your alpha?”
“Damn, dude. When’d you learn to talk so good?” I asked, my brain seemingly sinking more into a mire of numb stupidity.
“I’ve always talked good,” Roscoe replied, patting me hard on the back before turning his attention to the ferals who were quietly discussing amongst themselves.
“No,” one of them said. They were harder to tell apart now, despite earlier having different fur colors and patterns. “Have other things for trading.” He pulled out a few glimmering opals. “Shiny rocks for bubbles? Keep dangerous witches away.”
“Y’all got witches out here?” This accent seemed to get thicker and even more ridiculous the longer I spoke.
“Many witches. Alpha say to stay away. Some of us not come back after they find us.” He eyed the bottles, licking his chops. “Bubbles for rocks?”
Roscoe sighed.
“I suppose it’s a start.” He handed the bottles to the wild werewolf in exchange for the entire bag. “One of you gave my friend here a shiny rock a little while ago. Can any of you tell me who that was?”
The ferals slurped down the beer, each one belching loudly in different pitches while chuckling amongst themselves.
“They ain’t sayin’ nothin’,” I said, watching in awe as a few neon butterflies flitted by my face. “Jeez that’s purdy. How long’s this last?”
“Ooooh, boy. You’re in for one hell of a night.”
“Roscoe…” I tried to get angry, but uncontrollable laughter was all I could manage.
Anger made me laugh, and Roscoe sounded intelligent, while I could barely form a coherent sentence.
The flames of the fire were now purple and bugs around us sparkled in brilliant colors.
This wasn’t just some weed—it was as though my entire perception of reality shifted.
Was this the way the ferals saw the world all the time?
“You know, sex is phenomenal while on this stuff,” Roscoe said, reaching into my pants. “Every sense is heightened, and the orgasms don’t stop.”
I looked over. The feral werewolves stopped talking, each one staring eagerly.
“Naw, man. We ain’t doin’ this in front of them.”
“Trade licks for more sweet things,” one of them said, inching closer to me. “You smell like thick smoke.”
“What’s he talkin’ about?”
“He wants to suck your dick,” Roscoe said with a grin. “I told you. They’ll do anything you want for sweets.”
“No need for trade,” the feral said, his nose buried in my crotch. “Do this for no trade.”
“Well, hot damn! We might be able to convince them to take us to their pack after all. Good thing you’re so delicious.”
“Roscoe—”
“Just let it happen,” he cut in, licking my neck. “They aren’t going to bring us anywhere near their pack unless they gain our trust. This is a shortcut to that.”
“This seems kinda wrong.” My cock disappeared into the feral’s mouth, his rough tongue lapping at everything while his lips sealed around me. It felt like every pleasure sensor in my body went straight into overdrive. “Holy…”
As the werewolf went to work on me, Roscoe gently prodded my head downward until my face was against his crotch. He smelled different. Everything smelled and felt alien, like I wasn’t even in my own body anymore.
The heat of the moment made me forget about the other werewolves who were watching us while pleasuring themselves around the fire.
It didn’t matter if they were feral or like us; they were still perverts.
I wondered if they were ever human like us once, or if they had been born werewolves. Was that even possible?
While jerking Roscoe off, I stared at his midsection, and I noticed a slight bump on each side of his bellybutton.
“What the fuck is this?” I asked, trying to maneuver my body carefully as the werewolf below continued pleasuring me. “What the hell are these?”
“You know what nipples are.”
“What?” I shuddered as the blowjob got more intense. “Fuck, he’s really goin’ to town down there.”
“That’s because you’re just delectable.” He leaned in and whispered into my ear. “By the way, we all have eight nipples.”
“What?” I asked, pushing the feral werewolf away and climbing to my knees to lift Roscoe’s shirt. Sure enough, as I pulled his fur aside, they started appearing one-by-one. “H—how the hell’d I not notice?”
“When’s the last time you were down there?”
“I’m always down there. I just never saw ‘em!”
“Well, you’re looking into the future, bud. We all get eight of them when we turn.”
“Oh, this is awful,” I muttered, running my fingers over each one. “This is a real boner-killer. You know that right?”
“More licks?” the werewolf below me asked, salivating some more as he stared at my crotch.
“Uh, yeah. Go fer it,” I said, still eyeing Roscoe’s belly, slightly confused about whether or not I actually found this hot. I kind of expected the high to mellow, but everything just kept getting weirder. The woods weren’t even dark anymore, just all different colors.
It was scary, but I’d never seen anything more beautiful.
My head pounded as I struggled to open my eyes.
Though my mouth was bone dry, I could still taste the smoke and booze.
My memories were hazy—I could barely recollect what happened after the more intense effects of the drug had taken hold.
The odor of wild werewolves assaulted my nose with every movement against the crush of fur and muscle all around me.
The ferals never left, and from the contented look on their faces, I might have let them do a lot more to me than oral.
Nausea hit the pit of my stomach as I moved away, and a thickness filling my ass slid out with a wet thud.
Thankfully, it was only Roscoe. I looked up at his face, and another horrible memory hit as I frantically felt around his abdomen.
“Oh thank God,” I whispered, sliding my hand against his fur. No rogue nipples. “I’m never doing that shit again.”