Fucking asshole.
The guy you were talking to just brushed you off for someone clearly more appealing. In the process he bumped your beer down over your shirt, soaked in a flimsy excuse of a drink. Now you had patience, even tolerating some guys wanting a quick blowie in the stalls but this just felt like too much.
It was either flat out rejection or the last resort of the night for guys. All you were good for was a halfway decent dick sucking skill. When did you even fuck someone last, or get fucked? How come no one-
"Hey there, pretty one."
That voice was new, a bit louder against the blaring music. It belonged to someone older, someone hot and wearing a jacket, shaggy hair and a beard just past the point of stubble. Rough looking in all the right ways for your tastes. Maybe he was staring at you, but more likely he was talking to the buff guys in leather pants and harnesses.
They hadn't taken much interest in you either but hey, their shaved bodies only did so much for you. Ironic considering you didn't have all that much for yourself.
"See something you like, sir?", one asked as he casually flex-stretched.
"Wasn't talking to you," the new guy casually dismissed as he stood near you. Close but not too close for comfort.
"Really? You're missing out, besides…that one's got a reputation. Who knows what diseases he's got," one of them snidely remarked at you.
Disease? No, you were.. clean.
Oh fuck.
Fuck, who was talking about you?
You'd never swallowed or let anyone cum in your mouth for that matter, or-
"I'll take my chances," the man replied, "Beat it. You two don't look innocent either."
Evidently their bruised egos got the better of them. One scoff as well as an insult aimed at you and bloody-nosed tweedle dee was being seen to by tweedle dumbass. Strong punch of the guy to deck a stacked up gay like that.
"Hey, fuck is going on over here?", a bartender asked you two after that drew some attention from nearby patrons.
"He…um…"
You tried to speak but that insult and accusation were still fresh in your head. A diseased, irrelevant twunk that didn't deserve a stud. Maybe you just weren't good enough for anyone here.
"These two were harassing me and my friend here. They got in my face, is all. You gentleman won't be making that mistake again, will you?", mystery man asked them.
"Fuck you!", the untouched one said as he helped his disoriented partner up.
"Any of you three starts shit again and you can be the queens of the goddamn sidewalk. First and only warning," the bartender shook his head and walked off.
"C-c'mon James, we don't need this senior."
The stuck ups retreated to the exit as mystery man snorted. Did all that really happen? You hadn't had more than just a light alcohol but this was like a fever dream.
"There is nothing more annoying than someone who thinks being a pompous prick is attractive. Fuck those dime a dozen dickwads. Mind if I ask your name?"
"I'm.. I'm anon," you said, just a bit dejected.
"Anon? That's a nice name, pretty name for a handsome guy. You know that, right?"
No. Well, you had been told maybe once before but not much since then. You weren't ugly by any means but you didn't effortlessly match on apps either.
"What's yours?", you asked him.
"Roscoe."
Roscoe.
You and Roscoe hit it off that night, talking and flirting up a storm for a while by the bar. He had taken just a few more drinks but seemed ok enough to walk or even shake it on the floor. What could you say, the guy had moves for his age. If you placed it right he was early to mid thirties yet he danced like he was twenty.
"Anon! Anooooon, Anon you have got to see my place.." he slurred as he stumbled to you.
"Oh yeah?", you said, probably willing to escort him back but not much else.
"I only live th-threeeeee blocks awaaaayyyyyyyheeheehee."
Roscoe laughed, burped, and promptly puked but made sure he didn't aim for your clothes.
"Oh. My God!", someone near you two said.
Said stranger had gotten it splashed on their jeans and was not exactly happy. The bartender sighed and shook his head after watching it all. He had grabbed a mop and began rustling through the crowd.
Time to go before someone clawed you with acrylics.
"Heh, clawed… I know a thing or two about that."
Funny, you told him, then hooked him over a shoulder and walked out like he was an Englishman. He even sang a sailor song for a few minutes, then quiet as he walked. Another minute, no, maybe forty seconds and this man didn't need your support. Or so he claimed, he couldn't walk straight or out of the way of a powerline pole.
Ten more minutes of silence followed as Roscoe now led you by hand to his place. Too drunk to even get the keys in right so you sighed and helped him out. As you got him in and shoes were kicked off, he tried to walk into the bedroom but tumbled through the doorway.
Sighing, you kneeled down to make sure he was ok and if he needed help up. The only thing he needed was to try and kiss you. Under sober conditions this would be sweet but he was too drunk to be making any definite decisions. A part of you thought maybe if you had been drunk too this might have gone a certain way but you only reeked of beer, not overtaken by it.
"Roscoe, c'mon, you gotta get to bed," you tried to tell him as you tugged his furry hand up.
….Fur?
Roscoe was shifting before your very eyes, his face turning into a larger wolf with black and grey fur to match his human hair.
Were those.. claws?
Even his body went through major changes as he became probably three times his former size. He was fondling your bulge as he dragged his tongue across you, or tried to before you pushed him off. A tail as massive as you grew behind him. Damn, you were almost about to bang a werewolf.
A real, sexy, hot werewolf.
But a fairly drunk one if you cared about that, and you weren't drunk enough to make a bad decision.
"R-roscoe. You're…", you tried to say, stunned as he finished his transformation.
Whatever clothes he'd worn were torn or stretched away now. The tip of that thing popping up from his sheath (werewolves had those too?) as he chuckled.
"Yeeeessss?", he asked, drool casually slipping from his jaw.
"You're drunk," you firmly told him.
" 'Mmm not that drunk.."
"You just decided to show me you're a werewolf!", you countered, amused but concerned.
Optimism was fine but you knew that not everyone was so open minded about finding out werewolves were real. Even if this one was very cute and very sweet. Maybe furries wouldn't mind but they weirded you out too much to like anything other than werewolves.
"You're not…you're not drunk too. Fuck!", Roscoe barked.
The wolf sat up and swayed his head some as he began to realize what happened. Getting so drunk he'd just revealed a major secret about himself and all but confirming there was a paranormal aspect to the world. A drunken whine let out while his ears rested flat to his head.
"No…no way to hide….. can only…. Get drunk…. Make people think….. they're seeing things….. you're not…. you're not drunk?", the wolf asked as more spit leaked out.
"No, I'm not. Someone spilled a drink on me earlier, but I'm not drunk."
"So you.. don't mind?", Roscoe asked, his tail wagging or attempting to in his inebriated state.
"That you're a werewolf? No, I-"
You were cut short by a wolf kissing you. A nine foot tall fucking werewolf tackling you down and soaking your face in wet licks. Any other time and this would be a fantasy come true but not when your potential hookup was still processing enough alcohol to knock five people out.
"Roscoe, ok, I get it- Hey! No, we're not doing anything, put that away!", you said as his…thing.. was coming out again though he obeyed and relaxed as best he could.
A small part of the tip still stuck out but maybe he couldn't control that. Horny as a human versus horny as a werewolf could be two entirely different worlds. Most you could do was make sure he laid in bed and got the rest he needed for this. You did as well, only taking off your beer stained shirt but deciding to shower the morning after.
"Anooooooon…"
"Yes?"
"You're cute…", Roscoe adorably yawned the way a wolf did and settled in against him.
….Was cuddling so bad? Maybe? Maybe not??
"You don't need to cuddle me if you're-", but you were hushed by a growl and a whine.
Fine, if the price you paid to be sure he wouldn't hurt or embarrass himself was this, then ok. Just… a cute, older, fluffy werewolf sweet talking to you and that was no big deal. All things considered it was a long night and almost two in the morning so you decided to get some shut eye as well.
"Anon…", a voice asked you.
You woke from a dream about a werewolf and found yourself with Roscoe. Human and sober and pretending he didn't just do all of that last night. Not so fast, you thought and smirked but didn't say anything just yet.
"Must've had a lot of whiskey, us two," he tried to say, scratching at that beard of his.
"You did. And then you showed off that wolf."
Your new friend shook his head and tried to play it off but you knew better. If he said anything about a pet, you'd ask him to take you to him. If he tried to lie you had a photo for proof, but taken in such a way it looked like an owner with a pet.
Because fuck the US gov, you figured.
His move now.
"I…don't know what-"
"Roscoe, it's fine. You don't need to hide from me. I like that… and… you're a cute werewolf too, not that I can compare since you're the first one I've met," you joked as you took his hand.
Roscoe gulped, sighing as he relaxed and let his other side out. The bed creaked as more weight started to pile on but you didn't worry. He tilted his head as he waited for you, how you'd react maybe but there was no need to worry. All you had to do was hug him to show you were ready to take this on. Some part of you still thought this was too good to be true. And some part you knew you had found someone special to keep in touch with.