Werewriters

"Skylar only gets three more cookies today, and that's not til after dinner. And you'll be sure to put her to bed by eight," Rita rattled off. Sammy could smell the anxiety oozing from her pores. Rita was the spitting image of her twin sister Ruth, also known as Night Sky, Alpha Female of Argo--but she lacked her sister's self-assured, commanding aura. Sammy glanced back over his shoulder, at the four-year old singing along with Elmo on TV. Skylar was the cutest little werewolf Sammy had ever seen. Her big hazel eyes sucked in his attention. Her cornrow hair was bunched in a poofball on each side of her head. She ran around in pink tutus, which her mother kept several on hand and switched them out wherever Skylar got them too dirty. And her petite white fangs glistened as she sang, impressively on-key for someone her age. She probably had her keen werewolf ears to thank for that. Of course, Rita was challenged enough as a single mother, let alone a single mother to a werewolf child.

Bored out of his fuzzy mind, Phoenix decided to bring up a dating app on his phone. He hadn’t gotten his rocks off with an actual person in god only knows how long. Phoenix, the six foot two, rather muscular dire wolf, surprisingly never really did all that much with anyone. No one could ever really peg who or what he preferred. Some thought he was single and liked it that way, others assumed he was straight, a few thought he might be closeted, and a few others thought was secretly a group of hamsters in a wolf costume. Whatever the reality of his situation was, he did actually have his preferences, and wasn’t a stranger to looking in to new things. One such thing he had on occasion wondered about was orgies. Whenever he’d watch videos of them, he’d actually kinda just sit there, maybe half-chub, thinking about the logistics of how some people managed to get their body’s to move in new and interesting ways, sometimes in ways that seemed physically impossible or

Kevin stared forward in the empty coffee shop. His insecurities were soaring. He had always been sure of himself throughout his life, fully aware of who he was, what he was, and was able to cope with it. He brushed his slightly overgrown hair behind his ears and leaned against the counter, waiting for the next customer to enter. Normally on nights like this, he used the quiet as a chance to get school work done, completing homework between customers. Yet on this night, he felt dread. He didn't want to feel or experience anything. He wanted to resist, to avoid even any sensation that suggested he had internal feelings. He felt a weight in his heart, a feeling of finality. It hadn't always felt this way. Tyler used to visit Kevin at the shop, who would elicit conversations that were both random and also geared to take Kevin's mind off certain issues. He would start spouting off about upcoming movies or whether the Colts were going to make it to the playoffs again. There was a certain

Carl exhaled as he clicked the circular white button that would begin his live Instagram feed. He positioned his iPad and flashed his trademark smile that had gotten him so incredible viral through the app. "How you all doing this evening?' He exclaimed, smiling and feeling his cheeks spread as his wide smile erupted for all to see. He had perfect white teeth that shined, almost shined whenever he smiled. Many of his followers expressed that was one of his most attractive qualities. "So, I wanted to say hi to you all this evening cause I wanted to do something different." Carl's rise to fame in his viral career was undoubtedly his body. It went beyond his attractive Mexican-German heritage that made him stand out in the a crowd. Nor was it because he was in the American Navy and always took photographs of himself in uniform for many to drool over. It had much to do with the fact that he had an obscenely thick butt. His butt was so big and thick that followers even at one point had

The glare of the midday sun bears down on you as you trudge across an uneven, overgrown trail winding through the vast, mountainous forest. It’s been hours since you first set out on this arduous hike through the woods with only a backpack and your survival skills to get by. After coming into possession of an ancient, animal skin map that revealed a path to a hidden forest deep within the mountain range where werewolves supposedly exist, you decided to embark on this journey to uncover the myth for yourself. After an exhausting trek through a seemingly endless sea of fir trees and rocky terrain, you come to a fork in the path where it splits into three routes before you. Glancing at your map, you see that it indicates your location being on the very borders of the region where it marked that werewolves inhabited, but to your confusion and dismay, there is virtually no indication of the branching trails or what path to take on the map itself. With a sigh, you put away the map

There I stood with a puny kitchen knife. The room was covered in black ash. A fireplace was lit, spitting flames into the room. Smithens and Harper were both crouched on the charred floor, hands cuffed. While looking around the room, I forgot about the threat. I looked strait ahead. Ronan sporting his beetle black trench coat, and was standing behind a heavy wooden desk in front of me with a small revolver in his left hand. "Redd!" Smithens shouted. He started to stand up and gestured for the door. "Get out while you still can!" "Enough with you." Ronan said coldly. Distracted by Smithens, I heard a gunshot, and felt the knife in my hand fall. Stricken with shock, I fell onto the floor, I raised my hands into the air, and I started to cough. My heart beat into my ears, making everything else become drowned out. When the moment passed, Ronan said "Now that you cannot defend yourself, I'm going to give you a choice." He said with a static expression on his face. With one

Gunshots rang in my ears as I sat upright, panting after this awesome encounter. I looked to my left, the man, now a giant werewolf-like being, looked back. His clothes were a little bit ripped from his transformation, but it wasn't too bad. He now had a toned, muscular physique instead of a slightly pudgy one. His now yellow eyes stared me down. His thick brown mane of fur spiked and jutted out all over. His tail sat on the floor, it must've been at lest two feet long. I stared at him for a moment. "T-thank you for saving my life." I managed to get out. "You're welcome." He said in a deep voice, away with the nasally one he once had. "Just kidding, my voice isn't that deep." Oh, I was greatly mistaken as his voice remained almost the same. "The name's Smithens Brown, but you can call me Smithy. It's nice to meet you!" He held out one of his massive hand-paws. I shook it awkwardly, his grip was ridiculously firm, likely due to being more toned in this form. "Please get that