At first, my brother just stood there and stared. I found out later that he’d just finished cumming for the sixth time that night, and so his head was clearer than normal. I didn’t even consciously register his presence, not until his scent hit me.

It was like turning on a switch. My head snapped around to see my sexy, topless werewolf step-brother, standing there all muscly and sweaty…I instinctively dropped to my knees, and started crawling toward him.

“Please, Brandon…” I begged. “I need it…”

“No,” he said, firmly as any teenager can be when faced with a sex-starved slut begging for their cock. “Sis, we shouldn’t…”

But by then, it was too late. His scent had filled my nose, filled my head—it was all I could think of.

And I needed more.

He was naked, except for a pair of gym-shorts, and they offered no resistance to my needy hands. His cock was already thickening by the time I got my mouth on it, stuffing it into my throat, breathing his scent into my nose as fast as I could.

“Oh, fuck…” he moaned, and I could feel his hairs beginning to poke through his skin. “We shouldn’t be doing thiiis…”

My tongue swished around his hardness with glee, and I could feel him shudder as he lost control. It was amazing how quickly I made him cum, savoring the taste of his seed as it spurted to the back of my throat.

But I wasn’t done yet. Ignoring the pile of hair that we’d created, I stood up, removed my top, and arched my back with pleasure as Brandon began to nip and bite at my rosy-red nipples. They were harder than I could ever remember them being, and the feelings coursing through my body were threatening to overwhelm me. It felt like it had been weeks, months, years since I’d been fucked, and I wanted Brandon to do it.

I needed Brandon to do it.

The last remaining vestiges of my conscious mind tried to put their head in and stop me, but it was too easy to convince them otherwise. “He needs this,” I told myself. “He needs the pressure to be relieved, and who better to do it than his sister? Who better to make sure the wolf gets off than his sexy, slutty, horny little step-sister…”

I was only trying to convince myself, but it seemed that I was saying it out loud, vocalising my want, my need.

“Let me,” I’d said, staring at him with lust-filled eyes. “Let me get you off, let me help you…I just want to help…”

I don’t remember the rest of my clothes being ripped off, or Brandon carrying me into his room. I do remember the music—the strong, deep, thumping music, resonating throughout my entire body with each of my step-brother’s thrusts. Because he fucked me—of course he fucked me. He wanted it, I needed it, and I was extremely persuasive. As soon as the wolf took over, he brought me to his room, lay me down on the bed, parted my thighs, and took me as his own.

It was glorious. Like I said, I’ve been fucked before, but never like this…with every thrust, my entire body tingled. He wasn’t making love to me, he was taking me, owning me. I gave him everything I had, and he took it—and more. I’ve never even thought of taking a man in my ass before, but after he’d fucked my pussy twice, Brandon flipped me over and took me from behind without even asking.

My favorite part, if I had to pick just one, was the moment of orgasm. Not mine—my orgasm wasn’t so much a “moment” as it was a stream: the second his beautiful big cock-head parted my pussy lips, I started cumming, and it didn’t finish until he did.

No, my favorite moment was Brandon’s orgasm. His eyes went red, his cock felt like it doubled in size, and he howled as he pumped into me, used his little slut sister for his own pleasure. We didn’t use a condom—neither of us owned any, and even if we had, we couldn’t have paused to put one on. He fucked his sister raw, bareback, and when he came I felt it splashing inside me, filling me up.

Since the transformation, Brandon’s been drinking upwards of ten pints of water a day, and having felt him cum, I know why. Even after his first six orgasms of the day, it was a torrent, a veritable tidal wave of semen. He thrust into me, hard, and filled me up with his cum, over and over…when he pulled out, I practically gushed, and was unable to stop myself from reaching down, coating my hands in it, and tasting my brother’s juices mixed with my own.

It didn’t take him long to go again. And again, and again…I suspect we would have gone all night, if we hadn’t been interrupted. I know that I was hungry for more when Mom found us, me on all fours, Brandon (appropriately) pounding into me, doggy-style.

“Anna!” she shouted, perhaps several times—I was so lost in the feeling of Brandon’s huge cock slipping into my tight asshole, she could have been there for thirty minutes before I noticed. “Anna, this is unacceptable!”

Brandon was the first to stop—I would have been happy to him to cum inside my ass for the second time that night, but he’s more used to the overwhelming lust, and thus more able to control it. He pulled out, and faced our mother’s glare—she was clearly furious, and with his tail both proverbially and literally between his legs, Brandon sneaked off to the shower.

For the second time that week, Mom pulled me out of my step-brother’s room by my ear. As soon as I was free of the scent, I again collapsed—my body had been running on adrenaline for the past few hours, and I felt like I could sleep for a week. She gave me an sports drink, just to rehydrate me, and at the sight of my exhausted face and stretched, cum-streaked pussy, clearly decided that the lecture could wait for another day.

* * *

Left alone in my own room, I spent more than an hour just staring blankly at the wall, processing what I’d done. Part of it could certainly be blamed on the wolf pheromones, but I knew that I had to accept some of the responsibility. I could have told Mom the truth—that I wasn’t capable of being left alone with Brandon. I could have gone to a friend’s, or locked myself in my room, or explored any number of alternatives.

Instead, I’d put myself in a position where it was almost inevitable for Brandon to…to take me.

And fuck me. I’d been fucked by my own brother. Willingly, at that…over and over and over. I’d let him take me however he wanted, I’d contorted by body into whatever grotesque position would best serve to get him off.

And I’d loved every second of it.

I wish that I could end this story by saying that I learned my lesson; that the next morning, Mom and I had a chat, came up with a plan, and enacted it. I wish that I could tell you that I never fucked my brother again, and our relationship returned to how it had once been. I wish that I could tell you I turned into a respectable young lady, instead of a cum-hungry little slut.

But that wouldn’t be true now, would it?

A few minutes after I heard Mom go into her room, Brandon opened the door. Like me, now that he’d had a taste of it, there was no going back. His need drove him—all the hormones of being a teenager, amplified by his transformation. When his dick got hard, his brain turned off, and he had to take me as his own.

I tried to resist. God knows I tried. I told him that we shouldn’t be doing it, that we were siblings, that it was important we show some self-control…but somehow, that just turned us on more. It was so wrong, and it made me so wet.

As he slipped into me, I was so aware of what we were doing. We were using each other…no, more than that. He was using me. I was nothing but a wet hole for him to fuck, I was the perfect creature to help him get off. In the room right next to his, so that any time of the day or night he wanted to get off, he could.

After that night…well, I’d had a taste of what he could give me, and I wasn’t giving it up. Not for Mom, not for societal norms, not for anything. My job, my new purpose in life was to please my step-brother, to let him use me however he liked…and if that caused the greatest pleasure I’d ever felt in my life, then that was just a fortunate by-product.

There’s something you don’t really hear about werewolves: their stamina is out of this world. Some weekends, he’ll sneak into my room at 6am, and not leave until late Sunday night. I’ve had to persuade Mom to buy me a bar fridge, just so that we don’t suffer malnutrition.

She knows, of course. We tried hiding it from her, at least at first, but we’re out of control now—it’s a struggle not to meet up in the middle of the school day and fuck. She’s set down some rules—we’re not allowed to miss school, I’m not allowed to get pregnant- but I think she knows better than to stand between a werewolf and his only release.

My pussy is always, always hungry now. As soon as he gets home from school, I slip into his room, and slip his cock inside me. I’ve started sleeping in one of his shirts, just so that I can have his scent with me wherever I go. I wake him up with a blow-job, and only leave his room when Mom comes in and forcibly makes me.

Sometimes Brandon feels guilty about it. Sometimes, after fourteen consecutive hours of fucking, he’ll sober up and tell me that we have to stop, that we’re brother and sister and it’s just not right…

…but as soon as I slip my mouth upon his cock, he shuts up, and lets his animal brain do the thinking for him.

—

Maybe it was just a natural womanly thing—you’re intimate with someone for long enough, certain feelings begin to arise. Maybe it was something to do with the wolf inside of him, or hell—maybe I’m just a freak.

But after six months of Brandon and I being pretty much inseparable at the genitals, I realised that I needed more. I wanted to be owned by him—I mean, I was owned by him, but I wanted something more thorough, more permanent. I wanted to be marked by him—I wanted to show the world that I was his, and he was mine, and that nothing could possibly tear us apart.

And so I stopped taking my birth control.

When Mom had realized there was nothing she could do to keep me and Brandon apart, she’d made an appointment, gotten me on the pill, and made sure that I’d taken it. And I had—diligently. I needed the pleasure that only my wolf brother could give me, but I wasn’t stupid—I didn’t want to be a knocked-up teenager, carrying a baby through the final year of high school.

At least, back then I didn’t. But something about the image got into my head, and suddenly it was all I could think about. I wanted to be bred, bred by my step-brother. I wanted to carry his wolf children—I wanted to be part of his pack, serve at his feet, his pregnant obedient teenaged slut.

I didn’t tell him what I was doing—he would have felt guilty, or rationalized me out of it.

But when I slipped into his room, about a week after I stopped taking the pill, that was it. That was the night. I felt it in my bones. When he slipped inside of me, all I could think about was how I’d look soon enough, swollen-bellied and full-breasted.

I couldn’t wait.

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