CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Jonathan Mooseknuckles walked right into Shaftholes, a divey sorta bar.
He didn't have Bilf's cock aura, but he had a pretty firm grip on his confidence and that tended to impress bouncers, who generally don't share that grasp.
Jonathan ordered a drink at the bar. "Bloody Mary, extra bloody," he said, winking.
The bartender eventually slid a sludgy crimson glass to Jonathan.
"That'll be $7.50."
"I'm not a vampire," said Jonathan, recycling a joke from earlier.
"Then you're gonna wanna avoid the cholesterol on the rim," shot back the bartender. He then turned into a bat and flew down the bar to the next customer.
"Hey," you could hear him saying in the distance, "Since I just took the shape of a bat and I'm about to take your drink orders, does that make me a 'bat render bartender?'"
It was a pretty weak play on words.
"Please don't tip based on that," he continued, "What'll you have?"
Jonathan tuned him out. There was a woman in front of him.
He was fixated.
She was gorgeous. Black hair, pulled back. Brown eyes. High, round cheeks.
And she was curvy in all the places. Which turned out to be all the right places. If you've got curves, flaunt it.
She was also straight in all the right places. Her teeth, mostly. The edges of her fingernails. Her rectum, Jonathan assumed.
I mean, he didn't know yet. But he wanted to find out.
"Hey, how's it going?" he said, sliding up to her. "I'm Jonathan."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Bilf opened the door and welcomed Vonce into his parents McMansion.
Vonce had momentarily forgotten about the cock aura and found it slightly disarming for the likely difficult conversation ahead.
"What's going on, V?" asked Bilf casually, "The 'rents are out, wanna touch weiners or whatever?"
"Well, yes, always. But there's something I need to say first and then we can decide what's the next step."
Bilf stopped. "Should we be sitting down? This sounds kinda serious. You're not, like, pregnant or diseased or suddenly straight, are you?"
Vonce opened his mouth, paused a moment.
"Oh god." said Bilf.
"Look, I didn't expect it to happen but there was this hot werewolf lady and we just had this junk connection. I know I shouldn't have but I did borf her and I wanted you to know about it A.S.A.P."
"Well," said Bilf. That's all he could manage. Generally the cock aura lured people in. It'd been working since he was three. He had babysitters wrapped around his little ... finger.
So he wasn't used to being let down.
"Well, dang." said Bilf. "Any chance she wants to get in on our action? I mean, we are all hot teens with unbridled libidos and could use some more holes."
Vonce thought a moment. That could be interesting. But he remembered smelling that devlish Mooseknuckles' cologne on Shersharmjorp and decided he didn't need to complicate the storyline any further.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," said Vonce.
"Well, then get out."
"Okee doke. That's a reasonable outcome. Have a good one."
"Yeah, see you at the Buttsack."
Bilf closed the door on Vonce.
"I'm gonna kill him," Bilf said, complicating the storyline.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Meet Bilf.
Vonce's hunk ex(?) boyfriend. Or maybe they'll work it out? Who knows! You'll just have to read on to find out.
Anyway, yes. Bilf.
Bilf was a skinny, sort of unassuming boy but he had a really cocky aura. And I don't mean confident, although as a teen he certainly had more confidence than he'd earned.
I mean cock. Weiner. Penis.
To be in Bilf's presence was to be in the presence of his wang. You know the type. There's just something about the person that suggests he has a fantastic horn. Like it's calling to you from his chinos. One can almost feel the heat radiating from his beefy crotch oven to the point where you can't help but picture yourself kneeling before him, pulling at the hem of his tighty-whiteys and gripping his meaty dong.
Maybe not even for sex. Just, you know, to feel it or something.
Anyway, Bilf had that kind of an aura and is not something that leads to a well balanced teen.
Vonce rang the doorbell.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Shersh went down to the fridge. All the sweaty man/wolf/vampire porkings had left her dehydrated and hungry.
She pulled out some leftovers from last night. Mom's special, meatloaf. She thought for a moment about how she herself was kinda like this meatloaf, dry and salty. But instead of a bunch of meat stuck together with food glue, she was a bunch of feelings stuck together with heart glue, or something.
Also like the meatloaf, she changed shapes depending on its environment. You could bake it in any shape dish you want. And Shersh had been baked in a human shaped dish. And a wolf shaped dish.
She realized the metaphor wasn't perfect and wouldn't fly in English class as she slid the plate into the microwave.
Now it was starting to look like something she really wanted: steaming hot meat.
Yep. She was horny again. Man! Teens!
The microwave beeped and she pulled out her plate of meatloaf.
And then she nearly dropped it because her mother was standing right there.
Well, more like floating.
"Mom?!" she exclaimed.
Ghost Tina didn't acknowledge her. She just started going through the fridge and cupboards gathering ingredients.
"Mom! Can you hear me!? Mom! Mom!"
Shersh set down her plate.
"Hey, Mom, look at me!" she started doing jumping jacks and flailing her arms.
Ghost Tina just kept collecting ingredients. Beef, tomato, bread crumbs, onion.
Shersh reached a hesitant hand out. She pulled back a moment. What was she doing? Touching a ghost? That's crazy!
But what did she have to lose? She reached forward again as her mother set out the eggs and - GROSS!
Ghosts are cold, sticky and weird.
Shersh immediately regretted it.
And it didn't seem to do anything anyway. Ghost Tina kept going with the ingredients.
Ingredients for meatloaf.
It clicked for Shersh.
"Mom. Are you reliving your last night?" she asked expositionally.
Ghost Tina cracked an egg.
Shersh pulled up a chair.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

It was a pretty rigorous pipe-cleaning.
Shersh was really enjoying the sexuality she was discovering. They breathed in ecstasy a moment as a sort of denouement.
"Did you learn that from your mother?"
Shersh did not respond.
"Oh, right. Insensitive. Sorry."
Mooseknuckles got up, dropping the panties he still held clutched in his fist.
"Welp." He said, "I gotta go."
He put on his pants and cape and opened the window.
"Oh," he turned from the windowsill, "Have a grapefruit or something. Your Ph is off."
He was gone.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Shersh stepped into her empty home.
"Mom, I'm ho- ...oh, right. This is going to take some getting used to."
She dropped her bookbag at the door and stomped up to her room.
Throwing herself on the bed, she first sighed with the weight of the world, then screamed at the man in her room. Then demurred.
"Oh, hey Jonathan Mooseknuckles. I didn't expect to see you here."
"Sup."
"Cuz it's my room and all."
"Oh, I was just..." he started, closing the top drawer of Shersh's dresser slyly, "I was just... is this not my room?"
"No," said Shersh, "It's mine."
"Rightio. Well, I've been bewitched by you since the moment you noticed me in the hallway before, or whatever." He slid close to her, "But what if this were our room?"
"Ew," said Shersh, "That was super douchey."
"Yeah, well, I'm kinda trying to tap dance around explaining what I was doing in here."
He brought his clenched fist to his nose and inhaled deeply.
"Not that I'm not into it," she said, "It's just... things are weird."
She thought of that lusty, musty-gym wolf romp from earlier.
"Oh, with your mom dead and all?" offered Jonathan.
"Oh, right."
She thought further. Here was the strapping Jonathan Mooseknuckles standing before her. Shirtless, for some reason, and sniffing his fist again.
And where was Vonce? She'd just come home for the first time since her mom died and where was he?
Probably overlooking a majestic canyon in that jacket and thinking about the world while the sun set.
And here she was. Alone. In her time of need.
No. That's not right. Not alone.
"Come here," she said to Jonathan Mooseknuckles.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Vonce caught up to Shersharmjorp in the woods beyond the wretched athletic fields.
"Shersh," began Vonce, "Shersh, I've had the genital hots for you since the first time I saw you. Back at the gym. I just knew that you're special. A sweet and sincere soul. And the connection we felt is real. And the doggy style boning was real. And super hot. And I've never felt as close to any one as I do to you. And that includes my boyfriend, Bilf, and man is he going to be confused! and anyway I just want to say I think we can make this work."
At least, Vonce thought he said all that. But then he remembered they were both still wolves and wolves don't really have language and while they can speak, it takes some effort.
So what he said came out as more of a mewling whine.
Vonce turned humany again and waited for Shersh to do the same. She did, eventually, but she took her time. She knew who held the real power here.
"Wow," she said, "You really do have an annoying, high-pitched whine. Like a bitch."
Vonce looked down.
Dang.
"But that leather jacket is still totally hot."
Vonce sighed. The moment was gone.
He changed tacks.
"Hey, what was that bummer Principal Pocketwatch had to tell you?"
"Oh, nothing, really. Just that my mother was brutally murdered."
"Harsh."
"I know, right? Hey, you weren't in biology. How'd you hear that announcement? Superheightened werewolf senses?"
"Oh," explained Vonce, "he said it to the whole school, remember?"
"Oh, right. Yeah."
"That seemed comically cruel."
"Yeah, like something out of a satire or something."
"Anyway."
"Anyway," Shersharmjorp shifted her weight to her other leg. Vonce shuffled some leaves.
"So..."
"You know," said Vonce, changing tack again. He was like a regatta captain with this damn conversation, "You might want to work some more citrus into your diet. Your Ph is off."
That was the superheightened senses.

NOT A CHAPTER, A PICTURE

This is a rough draft. You are more than welcome to submit your own or to modify this version.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The door opened again.
Shersh looked back past the still thrusting Vonce, kind of hoping it'd be Jonathan.
It wasn't.
It was the gym teacher, Ms. Sack, and a whole bunch of kids.
"Hey!" yelled Sack.
Shersh ran off, leaving Vonce to ejaculate into the air. He then took off too.
"Come back here!" shouted Sack again, "We'll find you! There's only, like, 30 werewolves in this school!"

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

They did it. They jammed together their junks in all the sexy ways a wolf can.
So, just the one style, basically.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Shersh turned.
It was that strangely alluring, leather jacket wearing new boy, Vonce. Vonce Wolfer.
"Hey, sup," said Vonce. Damn, he was cool, too.
Shersh started to get all humany again but Vonce just looked at her. "No," he said, "You look hot like that."
And then HE turned into a wolf! WHAT!!!
For Shersh that was pretty dang sexy. Sure she'd never had a convo with him before or gotten his digits or smelled his hair but, dang, man. So assertive and sure of himself.
Plus the leather coat stayed with him as a wolf. That coat was really working on her.
Vonce approached and they circled each other a bit. They sniffed butts - Vonce had eaten chicken nuggets and coke and maybe, like, a lilac plant? Or used scented toilet paper? Or maybe he just took care of his b-hole. He's a werewolf, after all. Butt sniffing and butt brandishing are part of the life. Shersh was suddenly self-conscious about her butt.
But Vonce seemed to be pretty into it, judging from the snorting and how he'd occasionally bump his nose into her, cool and wet and soft. Like what sitting naked in a dewy mushroom patch must be like.
Butt sniffing complete. This Vonce thing really seemed to be happening.
"So..." said Shersh.
"I couldn't help but notice you," said Vonce sexily, "Not like in a stalker way. But in the way that I've got heightened senses cuz I'm a werewolf.
"Also, you're the only other thing in this gym."
Shersh thought a moment about the shiv-wielding hamster, decided not to mention it and was also glad Vonce had entered when he did. She'd been about ready to put her sensitive nose in primo shiv-stabbing country.
"I noticed you, too," she said, "Because you came in here as a person and turned into a wolf."
"Being a wolf suits you," he said, "I've never seen such a fine, clumpy spring molt, "he nipped playfully at one particularly large clump on one of her haunches.
Was this really happening?
Shersh had always dreamed of hot teen gym sex.
But she'd also always dreamed Jonathan Mooseknuckles.
But here was this hot wolf man. Who was interested in her.
Oh yes.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

She played with the hamsters.
The gym was always free during third period, so she'd bring in a hamster, get all wolfy and chase 'em around.
She didn't generally care for eating them but the thrill of the chase was too much to ignore.
OK, yes. Sometimes she ate them. The taste of rodent fur is pretty nasty but there is a particularly satisfying crunch.
She tried not to eat them, though. She always felt bad.
"That was a mean old thing you did, Shersh," she'd think. Although she hadn't done it with her new name yet. But she assumed it'd probably go like that.
She was just playing with one hamster today. Bouncing and leaping. Snorting after the thing and drinking with delight every petrified squeal.
Oh, and this was a good one, too. A cunning little bugger. A tiny, furry wizard of zigs and zags. Adept at knowing exactly the right moment to dart under the bleachers or skitter into a u-ey, sending Shersh sprawling as her paws lost traction on the waxed hardwood floor.
Shit. What time was it? Ok 5 more minutes and -
Where'd it go?
Shersh sniffed around. The thing was nowhere. She listened but only heard the tick of the wall clock reverberating through the gym. That and, somewhere, a leaky faucet.
She sniffed the floor, trying to discern the scent of hamster foot from sketcher and reebok tread. Was that it?
Oh, she was onto it now. Trotting after the rodent's trail. The water fountain. Of course. Hiding behind the fountain.
Shersh approached slowly, gathering herself up to spring on the hamster.
She inched forward. Tensed her stomach muscles. Held her breath. She leaned around the corner, mouth open an... nothing.
No hamster.
OW! Something bit her tail. She turned quickly, whanging her head off the fucking bubbler. Broken. Stupid.
It was the hamster. Holding her tail like corn on the cob and just going to town.
Dang, hamster.
She snapped her tail, launching the creature toward her mouth and... was that a tiny knife?
The hamster had made a little hamster shiv!
She dodged the flying rodent and managed to give it a little nip on the butt as it completed it's flight plan.
The hamster turned its landing into an effortless drift under the bleachers.
Shersh was about to put her nose under there when the door opened.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The bell rang.
Miss Professor shouted a reading assignment out to the class as they packed up their books, left apples on her desk and resumed finger-banging.
Shersh spilled out into the hallway and slinked off alone toward her locker. The day had been wearing on her. Miss Professor's naked hate, her douchey classmates and the whole murdered mother thing was a real downer.
She needed release.
Supernatural release.
She exhaled in front of her locker, dialed in the combination.
The box was there. Always was. Always there when she needed it.
Her fix.
She looked down the hallway. The last students were slipping into their classes. The last door shut.
She crouched over the box and traced one cardboard flap.
Something stirred inside.
Inside the box and inside her teenage body.
It wasn't an animal stirring in her body, though. Well, maybe a metaphorical one. Desire. Hunger. Yearning. Freedom.
Release.
The animal inside her that needed to be uncaged, unshackled. Let loose to carve a wild canyon on the surface of humanity.
She slowed her breathing. Not yet. Patience.
Open the box.
Ah, yes.
The hamsters.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Detective Fart regretted one decision in his life: changing his name.
He thought about this while going over those grizzly murder files.
He had changed his name as a younger man in his home country.
Whoa. He'd forgotten how gross this case was. Organs everywhere. Skin in tatters.  The pile of human loaded potato skins. Gross.
Fart had changed his name because the word was cool in his native language. Aggressive. A little dangerous. Just... cool.
But that was before he learned English. And his former name, it turns out, would've been pretty cool in English.
Now, this was interesting, thought Fart. Pretty gross, chaotic corpse... but on the neck... two tiny neat holes.
Could this have been the work of two people?
Fart exhaled. Should've stuck with Thunderpunch.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

This chapter starts with a person monologuing, but we don't know who is speaking yet. Mysterious, hmm? Intriguing!
"A queef," the speaker began, "Is a pussy fart."
"That's what I figured," said the other mysterious conversational participant.
"Yes, I know. I chose the word carefully.
"You see, 'queef' is one of those words... you can just tell what it means. It has that feeling, you know?  'Fuck' isn't like that. 'Fuck' is good, you know, it's visceral. You can picture fucking. But there are different kinds of fucking. Fuck can be angry, aggressive, joyful, weird. And so using 'fuck' can invoke any of those feelings.
"'Queef' only means the one thing.
"I'd like to think that there's some language, maybe a tribe those linguists care about in Papua/New Guinea, where 'queef' means something benign. Like 'butter' or 'read a book.' So then if, say, one of those tribesmen came to America and went to a juice bar in the early afternoon in Los Angeles, they'd hear something like "Oh man, my husband took me from behind this morning and I totally read a book at bikram. Like a huge book."
"Miss Professor?" asked Douche or Douché or whatever.
"What, Douche?" Miss Professor exhaled.
"While queefs have a loose biological connection, I question the value of this rant in a high school biology class."

Douche was sent to the principal's office.