NeuroFlesh - The Werewolf

Neuroknot

The café buzzed with the low hum of students winding down. A soft jazz playlist blended with the clinking of mugs and the faint hiss of the espresso machine. Sasha scanned the room, finally spotting Naomi at a window booth, already halfway through an iced chai.

"Hey, stranger," Sasha grinned, sliding into the seat opposite her.

Naomi looked up and broke into a wide smile. "Finally! I was starting to think you'd ghosted me for good."

Sasha rolled her eyes and set her backpack down. "Midterms, job hunting, trying not to spiral into existential dread--you know how it is."

Naomi sipped her drink with a smirk. "Same. Except I gave up on pretending to be productive like... two weeks ago."

They both laughed.

Sasha leaned back in her chair, stretching. "God, it's been forever. How's life? How's... Ethan?" she teased with a raised brow.

Naomi groaned. "Dead. Ghosted me after two dates and a very confusing karaoke night."

"Oof." Sasha winced. "He was the one with the chain wallet, right?"

"Yup. And a Spotify playlist called 'Sadboy Summer.'"

Sasha snorted into her latte. "Dodged a bullet."

Naomi tapped her straw against the rim of the cup. "Honestly, I don't even care about dating right now. I barely survived econ midterm. I think I blacked out halfway through the short answers."

Sasha groaned in sympathy. "Econ is evil. I had to guess on, like, three whole problems on my stats exam yesterday. I just stared at the formula sheet like it was written in ancient Sumerian."

"I swear, if one more professor says, 'It's cumulative, but you'll be fine,' I might actually combust."

"Right? And they always say it like they're doing us a favor."

They both paused as the barista called out an order in the background. Naomi leaned back with a sigh.

"You ever feel like everything's just... on pause? Like, we're doing all the right things but nothing feels real yet."

Sasha blinked. "Constantly. It's like life's a loading screen. Like, I know I'm 'building toward something,' but right now it just feels like group projects and insomnia."

Naomi laughed dryly. "Exactly. And my group for marketing is actual chaos. One guy keeps showing up with 'brainstorming weed,' and the other one just pastes ChatGPT responses into the slides without reading them."

"I had a guy like that last semester. He spelled 'strategy' wrong. Twice."

"Ugh." Naomi swirled the ice in her cup. "I don't know. I thought by now I'd feel more... I don't know. Adult? Put-together?"

Sasha gave a soft chuckle. "I still Google how long to boil eggs."

Naomi grinned. "You're doing better than me. I tried to cook salmon last week and ended up eating cereal while crying."

Sasha raised her drink. "To cereal dinners and emotional breakdowns."

They clinked cups.

"Honestly," Naomi added, "I've just been feeling... kinda restless lately. Like something's missing, but I don't know what."

Sasha tilted her head. "Like, burnout stuff? Or something else?"

Naomi hesitated, then gave a half-shrug. "Maybe both. School's just... whatever. Dating's a mess. Even my go-to distractions aren't working anymore."

"Same. I scroll for hours, but everything feels stale. Everyone's either showing off or oversharing. Like, I don't want to see your meal prep or your third emotional breakdown of the day."

"Exactly." Naomi glanced out the window, tapping her nails lightly against her glass. "I guess I've just been wanting something different. Something... I don't know. Unfiltered."

Sasha narrowed her eyes playfully. "Unfiltered like... drugs or skydiving?"

Naomi laughed. "Not that unfiltered. But something that doesn't feel so performative, you know?"

Sasha nodded slowly. "Yeah. I feel that."

Naomi took a breath, glancing at her friend. "Okay, so--don't laugh--but I might've found something weird that actually scratches that itch."

Sasha raised a brow. "I'm listening..."

Naomi leaned in, lowering her voice just a bit. "You ever heard of Qwinki?"

Sasha narrowed her eyes. "Qwinki? That sounds like... a rejected dating app for furries."

Naomi burst out laughing. "Okay, fair. The name is tragic. But hear me out."

Sasha leaned in, skeptical but amused. "Go on."

"So it's this platform-slash-service thing. Super lowkey. Like, you need an invite to even sign up. It's not on the App Store or anything."

"Sounds totally legit," Sasha said, sipping her drink. "Go on, dark web queen."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "It's not sketchy! It's backed by real tech people. I looked it up--some of the same folks who used to work at Dreamspace Labs and some biotech startup."

Sasha tilted her head. "Okay, but what is it?"

Naomi hesitated, then gave a small smile. "Basically... they create these fully personalized, immersive experiences based on your fantasies. Like, sensory input, AI-driven characters, the whole deal. It's like lucid dreaming meets therapy meets... well, sex."

Sasha blinked. "Wait. You mean it's like... custom-made sex dreams?"

Naomi nodded. "Pretty much. But you're awake. You experience it like real life. They scan your preferences, your moods, even stuff from your memory bank. And they build something that's not just hot--it's tailored to you."

Sasha stared at her for a moment, then set down her latte slowly. "Okay. That's either the coolest thing I've ever heard... or the start of a Black Mirror episode."

"I know how it sounds," Naomi said quickly. "But I tried it. Once. Just last weekend."

Sasha's eyebrows lifted. "Wait--you did it?"

Naomi nodded. "And it was... wild. Not just the physical stuff. I felt seen. Like, they don't just give you a generic hot guy with abs. They actually tap into, like, your specific emotional wiring."

"You're telling me there's a program out there that knows my daddy issues and my turn-ons?"

Naomi laughed. "Girl, yes! And it doesn't judge either."

Sasha sat back, eyes wide. "And this is legal?"

"Totally. It's like mental wellness meets safe intimacy. You get all the hormones and dopamine without the emotional fallout or awkward small talk."

Sasha shook her head slowly. "So let me get this straight. You signed up for this secret app that makes dream hookups using brain scans, and you're out here sipping chai like that's just a normal Saturday?"

Naomi gave a sly smile. "It's not just brain scans. It's more... layered. They use neuro-response mapping and some kind of biofeedback thing--don't ask me to explain the tech, but it's freakishly good at knowing what you want. Even stuff you didn't know you wanted."

Sasha squinted. "So, like... a really advanced fantasy generator?"

Naomi's smile deepened. "It's more than that. You don't just see it. You're in it. Fully."

Sasha's eyebrows knit. "Like, emotionally?"

Naomi hesitated for a second, then gave a slow nod. "Emotionally, yeah. And... other ways too."

Sasha raised an eyebrow. "Naomi."

"I'm serious!" Naomi laughed softly. "It's not like VR with goggles and awkward gloves. It's... immersive. Natural. When you're in it, your brain doesn't question a single thing."

Sasha was quiet for a moment, staring at her friend. "So you're saying it feels real. Even though it's not."

Naomi's voice dropped slightly, almost reverent. "Exactly. Like dreaming, except you're wide awake and everything responds to you."

Sasha let out a breath, as if she'd been holding it. "That sounds kind of... intense."

Naomi nodded. "It is. But it's safe. There's no fallout. No weird texts the next day, no guessing games. Just... clarity."

"Clarity," Sasha repeated, still trying to wrap her head around it. "And how did you feel after?"

Naomi looked down at her drink, the ice mostly melted. "Weirdly... calm. Not like I just got off some thrill ride. More like I remembered something I'd forgotten I needed."

That quieted Sasha. She stirred her coffee absentmindedly, the spoon clinking against the ceramic.

Naomi watched Sasha, a sly look in her eyes. "Not only that..."

Sasha raised a brow. "Oh god. What now?"

Naomi leaned in a little, voice low. "They cater to everything. Not just the sweet or sexy stuff. Like, if your thing is power dynamics, sci-fi settings, mythical creatures--whatever--you can build it. You pick the experience. You direct it, basically."

Sasha blinked. "Okay, but how do they know what to do? Is it like a creepy algorithm poking around in your brain?"

Naomi shook her head. "Nope. You choose everything. There's a setup interface when you first log in. Kind of like customizing a video game, but it's all personal preferences. You set the tone, mood, environment, character types, even dialogue styles. It's super specific."

"So it's not mind-reading. You tell it what you want, and it builds from there."

"Exactly," Naomi nodded. "Nothing shows up that you didn't approve. You're fully in control--but it still manages to feel... spontaneous, somehow. Like it reacts to you in real time. It's unsettlingly smooth."

Sasha let out a breath. "I don't know whether I'm turned on or deeply concerned."

Naomi laughed softly. "Honestly, a bit of both is the right reaction."

There was a pause as Sasha stared into her drink, absorbing all of it.

Naomi watched her for a beat, then unlocked her phone. "Here."

Sasha looked up. "What?"

"I'm sending you the invite link." She tapped her screen a few times. "You won't find it in the App Store. The app only downloads through a private install--basically, you need to be invited by someone who's already in."

A second later, Sasha's phone buzzed on the table.

Naomi has invited you to Qwinki. Tap to download.

Sasha stared at the notification, then slowly picked up the phone.

"This feels... I don't know. Secret."

Naomi shrugged, sipping the last of her chai. "It kind of is. That's the whole point. It's discreet. Safe. Completely private."

Sasha glanced at her, hesitant. "And if I open it...?"

"You create a profile. Set your parameters. Pick your first scenario. And that's it. No ads, no creepy DMs, no strings."

Sasha stared at the screen for a moment, thumb hovering just above the link.

Sasha stared at the glowing invite on her screen, thumb hovering.

Naomi leaned in. "Come on. Just open it. It won't bite."

Sasha gave her a sideways look. "That's exactly what someone says before they unleash the cursed app that ruins your life."

Naomi smirked. "Then I guess we'll be roommates in doom."

With a reluctant sigh, Sasha tapped the link. Her phone screen faded to black for a second, then lit up again with a sleek, minimal interface: just the Qwinki logo pulsing softly like a heartbeat. No fanfare. No loading bar. Just one line at the bottom:

"Begin Personalization."

Naomi sipped her drink like she was watching a movie. "Go on."

It was clean and clinical-looking, almost boring in contrast to everything Naomi had described.

Name. Age. Pronouns. Sexual orientation. Relationship status. A sliding scale labeled "Openness to new experiences."

She glanced up at Naomi. "So... this is just data entry?"

"For now," Naomi said with a knowing smile. "It eases you in."

Sasha continued. Height preference. Gender identity of preferred partner(s). Checkboxes for limits. It didn't rush her, didn't scroll automatically. It waited, patient and unjudging, until she was done.

At the bottom of the form, a single button pulsed:

Submit.

She tapped it.

The screen went black for a beat--long enough for Sasha to glance at Naomi again, uncertain--before a simple warning appeared in bold, white text:

Please be advised.

This is a responsive, immersive experience. Your emotional and physical reactions may be indistinguishable from reality.

Proceed only if you feel ready to engage fully.

There is no judgment here--but there is intensity.

Tap "I'm Ready" to continue.

Sasha let out a low whistle. "Okay... ominous much?"

Naomi smirked. "It's their version of a seatbelt sign."

Sasha hesitated, then tapped "I'm Ready."

The next screen faded in slowly.

Select Partner Type

Please choose your preferred category to begin customization:

● Human

● Humanoid

Sasha blinked. "Wait. Humanoid?"

Naomi leaned forward, eyes glittering. "That's where the unconventional part comes in."

Sasha squinted at the screen. "What does that even mean? Like... robots?"

Naomi shrugged, too casually. "Sometimes. Sometimes elves. Or aliens. Or beings made of smoke and whispers. Depends on your taste."

Sasha stared at her. "You've got to be kidding."

"I'm dead serious," Naomi said, grinning. "Think of it like genre filters. Some people like a barista AU. Others want to be seduced by a vampire prince who speaks Latin and smells like cedarwood and eternity."

Sasha made a face, but her thumb hovered.

"Okay but... I just wanted to feel something again. Not--get hunted by a sexy tentacle creature."

Naomi raised her brows. "You say that now."

Sasha snorted but didn't move her finger. "So if I choose 'human,' it's... what? Like normal dating sim stuff?"

Naomi shook her head. "Not dating. This isn't about awkward flirting or swiping left. This is about you. What you crave. What makes your skin buzz. What makes you feel safe, or wild, or totally undone. And sometimes that's a human. Sometimes it's not."

Sasha sat back in her chair, the hum of the café fading into the background as her eyes lingered on the two words.

Human.

Humanoid.

Sasha took a slow breath and tapped Human.

The screen shifted smoothly to a new form -- clean, straightforward, and familiar. The kind of profile setup she'd seen on a hundred apps before, but stripped down.

Select Partner Details for Your Experience:

Race/Ethnicity:

● Black

● White

● Hispanic/Latinx

● Asian

● Middle Eastern

● Other (with a text box)

Sasha tapped a few options thoughtfully, picking what felt right for her current mood.

Next came:

Height: A sliding scale from 4'10" to 6'6".

She slid it to around 5'10", somewhere comfortable but not too tall.

Weight: Another slider. She hovered near average, not too lean, not too bulky.

Languages Spoken: A checklist -- English, Spanish, French, Mandarin, and an "Other" option with a text box.

Sasha ticked English and French. She liked the idea of someone who could surprise her with a phrase or two in another language.

Personality Vibes:

● Calm

● Playful

● Dominant

● Submissive

● Funny

● Mysterious

She selected Playful and Funny.

Favorite Experience Elements:

A list of things to check off -- playful teasing, sensual massages, quiet moments, wild spontaneity, whispered secrets.

Sasha smiled a little, picking the ones that felt like her -- playful teasing, sensual massages, quiet moments.

There was no question about "relationship style" or commitment -- this was about a single, immersive experience, designed to deliver exactly what she wanted, no strings attached.

At the bottom, a Next button glowed softly.

She tapped it and the screen gave a subtle hum, as if acknowledging her choices.

Naomi glanced over, nodding approvingly. "See? Totally normal."

Sasha shook her head, half amused, half bewildered. "Yeah, but... this is just the tip of the iceberg, huh?"

Naomi smirked. "You haven't even gotten to the fun part."

Naomi glanced at Sasha's selections and smirked. "Although, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't mind getting your white pussy blown out by some black cock."

Sasha blinked, then burst out laughing. "Wow, Naomi. That's one way to put it."

Naomi shrugged, grinning. "Hey, I'm just saying--it's all customizable. Whatever gets you going."

Sasha shook her head, still chuckling. "You're terrible."

Naomi winked. "But you love me."

Sasha caught her reflection in the cafe window for a brief second. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves, catching the light just right to make her look almost golden. Her face was a perfect blend of sharp angles and soft curves--high cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that seemed to hold a secret just for you. But it was her body that commanded attention effortlessly. A figure carved like a masterpiece: a tight waist that flared into hips made for gripping, thighs that hinted at strength beneath their softness. Her breasts were full and round, impossible to ignore, and her ass--well, it was the kind of ass that stopped conversations and made strangers forget their own names. She knew exactly the effect she had on people, and there was a thrill in that knowledge, a delicious power that came with every glance and whispered comment.

Sasha smirked, then tapped back to the partner selection screen. This time, she clicked on Humanoids.

A whole new world opened up before her eyes--a sprawling list of every possible humanoid creature you could imagine.

Sasha scrolled down the list, eyes widening as she saw the endless options:

● Werewolves,

● Vampires

● Elves

● Androids

● Centaurs

● Merfolk

● Demons

● Angels

● Faeries

● Succubi and Incubi

● Zombies

● Giants

● Sirens

● Djinn

● Trolls

● Cyborgs

● Nymphs

● Dragons

Naomi watched Sasha's face light up with a mixture of disbelief and fascination. "Anything you can imagine, basically."

Sasha's eyes flicked back and forth over the list, her mind racing. "Wait, so how does this actually work? Like, if I pick a werewolf, do I get the whole... transformation experience? Fur, claws, the full moon and all that?"

Naomi nodded. "Exactly. They build the whole scene, every detail. You feel everything, like it's happening to you."

Sasha raised an eyebrow. "And what about vampires? Can I choose if I want to sparkle or not? Because I'm not into the sparkly type."

Naomi laughed. "No sparkles, I promise. More of the brooding, dangerous kind."

Sasha smirked. "Good. And the androids--do they actually feel... real? Like, can I tell they're machines or do they fool your brain completely?"

Naomi tapped her phone. "They're designed to fool your senses completely. Emotionally too. It's wild."

Sasha leaned back, eyes wide. "So basically, I'm designing my perfect fantasy--every little detail--and then it feels like it's happening for real. Even though it's not."

Naomi grinned. "Bingo."

Sasha frowned thoughtfully, scrolling back through the humanoid options. "Okay, quick question--if I pick one of these humanoids with, say, a bigger cock than a normal guy... are they, like, physically compatible? You know, with a human body?"

Naomi grinned. "Oh yeah, they think of all that. The system adjusts everything to make sure it fits perfectly--no awkward moments or pain. It's all about pleasure, not problems."

Sasha raised an eyebrow. "So even if I pick, say, a giant werewolf, it won't be some nightmare of 'too much, too fast'?"

Naomi laughed. "Exactly. They calibrate it so it's intense, but comfortable. You get the fantasy without the, uh, damage."

Naomi nudged her. "Just click on one. You don't have to commit to anything. It won't bite."

Sasha gave her a look. "I'm just curious, okay? Strictly curiosity. I'm never actually doing this."

Naomi raised both hands, grinning. "Sure. Just window shopping."

Sasha hesitated, then tapped on the werewolf icon. The screen shifted, elegant and minimalist, revealing the next set of custom options.

First: Fur Color.

A sliding spectrum appeared--everything from snowy white to ash gray to jet black, even deep emerald and blood-red.

Then: Fur Density.

"Minimal," "Light and smooth," "Thick and coarse," "Fully feral."

Sasha blinked. "Okay, this is... specific."

Naomi sipped her drink. "Told you. They're not half-assing it."

She swiped through, amused, selecting "Ash gray" and "Light and smooth" just to see what happened.

Then came the next screen. It loaded with a soft chime.

Include Knotting Experience?

☐ Yes

☐ No

(With a subtle italicized note beneath: Simulated tension and release for increased intensity and realism. Comfort features always engaged.)

Sasha's eyes went wide. "Wait--what the hell is 'knotting'?"

Naomi smirked behind her cup. "Oh, honey."

Naomi leaned in, clearly enjoying herself. "Okay, so. You know how in some animal species--like wolves or dogs--the male has this... swelling at the base during sex?"

Sasha blinked. "Naomi--"

"It's called knotting," Naomi said, trying not to laugh. "And some people are into it because it's all about being... locked in. Physically. Like, no pulling out until everything's done."

Sasha looked back at the screen, then back at Naomi. "So this app just casually asks if you want to be--what--tied to a werewolf?"

Naomi nodded. "Pretty much. But it's not real, remember? The system makes it all safe. You still feel it, but it's not like you're actually getting... medically rearranged."

Sasha ran a hand down her face. "This is insane."

Naomi grinned. "And yet... you haven't closed the app."

Sasha gave her a side-eye, but she didn't argue.

"Look," Naomi added gently, "you don't have to go full monster mode your first time. You can customize literally everything. Ease into it. Or not. But if you're curious..." She shrugged. "There's no judgment."

Sasha exhaled, thumb hovering over the screen. "Okay. So it's safe. It's private. And it's one time only."

"Exactly," Naomi said. "You try it, you move on. Or you don't. But at least you'll know."

Sasha exhaled, her thumb still hovering over the screen. "Well... good to know," she said finally, locking the phone and tucking it back into her bag. "But I think I'll leave the winged kings and... knots to you."

Naomi gave her a teasing look. "Suit yourself. Just don't come crying to me when you start dreaming of half-naked centaurs whispering sweet nothings in Elvish."

Sasha laughed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "If that ever happens, I'll know exactly who to blame."

They stood together, gathering their things.

"You heading to class?" Naomi asked.

"Yeah," Sasha said. "Sociology of Intimacy. Ironically."

Naomi grinned. "Perfect timing."

As they stepped out of the café, the sun had dipped just low enough to cast long shadows across the campus lawn. The breeze stirred the air, scented faintly with jasmine and old books.

"Text me if you change your mind," Naomi said, nudging Sasha with her elbow.

"Don't hold your breath."

They parted ways at the steps--Naomi walking toward the lot, Sasha heading across the green. For a moment, Sasha glanced back, the quiet buzz of curiosity still humming under her skin.

She shook it off and disappeared into the building.

................................................................................................................................

The campus lecture hall was cold in that sterile, over-air-conditioned way that only universities seemed to master--cold enough to make Sasha regret her sleeveless crop top but not enough to go digging through her tote for the oversized hoodie she never wore in public.

She sat near the middle row, her legs crossed, one heel dangling lazily off her foot. Her tablet rested on the fold-down desk in front of her, half-filled with notes from last week's lecture. Today's slide read: "Transactional vs. Relational Models of Intimacy." Irony, she thought, glancing at the title, considering the app still silently installed on her phone like a secret too heavy to ignore.

Sasha didn't wait for the lecture to end properly--she had her tablet snapped shut and stuffed into her tote the second the professor started wrapping up. She took the long way home.

Not because she liked the extra walk, but because she needed the time. The air was cooler now, a little sharp against her arms, but she didn't bother digging out the hoodie. Her mind was buzzing too loud to care.

By the time she climbed the stairs to her apartment, her jaw was sore from clenching it the whole walk. She unlocked the door, dropped her bag by the entryway, and went straight to the fridge. Opened it. Closed it. Opened it again. Stared at a half-empty oat milk carton and some sad-looking hummus, then gave up.

She stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, forehead resting against the cabinet.

And then--like clockwork--her phone buzzed.

Naomi:

Soooooo

How's your brain?

On fire yet? ????

Sasha didn't answer right away. She walked to the couch, collapsed into it like her bones had given up, and stared at the ceiling.

Her phone buzzed again.

Naomi:

That bad, huh.

Wanna borrow a werewolf with emotional intelligence?

Sasha couldn't help it--she laughed, just once, sharp and short.

Then she stared at her screen. The Qwinki app was still there. Still untouched.

She hadn't stopped thinking about it since Naomi showed her. The weird mix of curiosity, judgment, and... okay, fine. A little intrigue.

She opened the app.

Not because she was ready. But because she was tired of pretending she wasn't thinking about it.

The screen lit up, that soft pulse like it was breathing.

"Resume Setup?"

She hesitated, then tapped Yes.

The screen slid open, clean and quiet. The partner selection popped up again:

Human

Humanoid

This time, she went for Humanoid.

She didn't really know what half the options meant, honestly. The names sounded like they were pulled from some fantasy novel or deep Tumblr archive. She scrolled past "djinn" and "kitsune" and "smoke entity"--whatever that meant--and landed on Werewolf.

Her finger hovered. Then tapped it.

A second later, her phone buzzed.

Naomi:

???? What are you picking?

Sasha smirked. Paused.

Then typed:

Just some basic white guy. Blue eyes. V-neck probably.

A second passed.

Naomi:

Boooooo. Vanilla. I expected at least a moody vampire.

Sasha didn't reply. Left her on read.

And went right back to the app.

Back to Werewolf.

She didn't know why. She wasn't into hairy dudes. Or fangs. Or whatever knotting was--Naomi still hadn't shut up about that part.

But something about it pulled her.

It wasn't logic. It wasn't fantasy book crushes. It was just this quiet feeling in her chest that said, Yeah. This.

She tapped it again.

Werewolf.

The screen shifted, as if it remembered her.

Fur Color?

She slid the dial to a smoky gray.

Fur Density?

"Light and smooth."

It was weird how specific it got. But she didn't mind. It made her feel oddly... seen. Like someone had thought about this way too hard so she didn't have to.

The next question came up:

Include Knotting Experience?

☐ Yes

☐ No

She stared at the screen. Knotting. Still kind of ridiculous. Still kind of... intriguing.

Whatever.

She tapped Yes.

No dramatic sound effect, no bright flash. Just a soft pulse, like the app was nodding.

Choose Environment.

A clean list faded onto the screen. Quiet animations looped behind each one--subtle, just enough to spark her imagination:

● Moonlit Forest - Tall trees, cool air, soft ground beneath bare feet. The kind of silence that feels alive.

● Remote Cabin - Creaky wood, firelight, a snowstorm tapping at the windows. Isolated but warm.

● Rainy City Rooftop - Neon reflections on slick concrete, thunder in the distance, the buzz of a sleeping city below.

● Underground Hot Spring - Stone walls, steam rising, glowing minerals underfoot. Hidden warmth.

● Victorian Manor - Candlelight and old wood, velvet furniture, echoes in the halls.

● Mountain Cave - Wind howling outside, the scent of pine and wet stone.

● Foggy Moor - Endless grass, curling mist, the occasional flicker of lantern light.

● Industrial Warehouse - Harsh light, cold steel, shadows in every corner.

● Abandoned Church - Dust in the air, shattered stained glass, silence heavy as prayer.

● Custom - Start from scratch. Build your own.

Sasha scrolled slowly, absorbing each one.

She paused on Cabin, just for a second. But then her finger drifted back to the top.

Moonlit Forest.

There was something about it. Quiet. Wild. Open but hidden. She didn't try to explain it to herself. She tapped it.

The screen faded, then loaded the next selection:

Choose Scenario

All scenarios are fully consensual and responsive. You remain in control throughout.

● Strangers with Tension - A charged meeting. Curious glances. Neither of you sure how it ends.

● Protective Alpha - He's fierce and grounded. You're under his care.

● The Chase - You run. He follows. A game. Until you're caught.

● Guided Exploration - Slow and patient. You call the shots.

● Silent Bonding - No words. Just touch, breath, and unspoken understanding.

● Accidental Intimacy - A brush of hands, shared warmth, something building under the surface.

● Power Play (Soft Resistance) - Push and pull. Safe tension. Clear lines.

● Dreamlike Connection - Surreal, slow, like meeting in a memory.

● Old Lovers Reunited - There's history. And heat that never left.

● Custom - Make your own.

She scrolled back up. Strangers with Tension tugged at her again.

She tapped it.

She tapped it.

The screen paused for a second--then shifted into something different.

Not the dreamy fade-out she expected. Not the experience launching.

Instead, a new screen came up. Crisp. Minimal. Clearly not part of the fantasy.

Reservation Required.

"Your selected scenario includes full-body neural sync and immersive environment rendering."

"To continue, please confirm your appointment at your nearest Qwinki suite."

Below that was a map. A real one.

Sasha zoomed in, heart thudding a little faster now. The pin was across town--some weird-looking building tucked behind a row of yoga studios and medical labs in a quiet tech corridor. No business name, just a small Q icon pulsing over the address.

Private Suite Reserved for You

Session Length: 90 minutes

No staff interaction required. Self check-in. Total privacy.

Then came the price.

$499.00

Includes full neural overlay, sensory rendering, emotional mapping, and scenario customization.

Sasha stared at it.

No intro pricing. No first-time discount. Just straight-up five hundred dollars.

She let out a quiet, slightly hysterical exhale. "Of course."

But the thing was... she wasn't surprised. Not really. With how detailed it all had been--the emotional calibration, the partner sliders, the weirdly intuitive options--of course it wasn't something you could just stream through your phone in sweatpants.

This wasn't an app.

It was a service.

A place.

A choice.

She scrolled down to the bottom of the screen. A simple black button blinked up at her:

Proceed to Payment + Schedule

And right below it, a second one:

Save For Later

Her thumb hovered over both.

Then her phone buzzed.

Naomi:

Did you do it???

Tell me you picked something unhinged

Also don't freak out about the price, they will ruin your life in the best way. Worth it.

Sasha didn't answer.

She just stared at the reservation page, her screen lighting up her face in the dim apartment. That glowing black button pulsed at the bottom of the screen like a dare.

She hovered over it.

Then, with a quiet breath out, she tapped Save For Later.

The app chimed gently, almost like it understood. The screen faded to a soft message:

"Your session has been saved. You can return to complete your booking at any time."

Just like that, the weight lifted a little.

Not gone. But tucked away.

She locked her phone and tossed it on the end of the couch. Stood up, stretched with a yawn that felt bigger than her whole body, and shuffled to her bedroom.

No skincare. No doomscrolling. Just hoodie off, lights off, blanket over.

She curled up on her side and stared at the dark for a while, the memory of that pulsing Q icon still burned into her brain like a low ember.

The forest. The voice.

"You're not from here."

She didn't even know what that meant. But she'd heard it like it was real.

And the weirdest part?

She didn't feel weird about it.

Just... calm.

Curious.

And maybe, just maybe, already halfway to yes.

Sleep took her quickly.

................................................................................................................................

Sasha woke up feeling weirdly rested.

It took her a second to remember why she felt so clearheaded, and then it hit her--the forest, the wolf, the reservation screen. It all came back in flashes. That app hadn't just stuck in her mind overnight; it had settled in, like background noise she could feel in her bones.

But she didn't have time to spiral about it this morning.

She had the damn leadership workshop.

She groaned as she rolled out of bed, pulled on the least-wrinkled blazer she could find, threw her hair into a semi-presentable knot, and bolted out the door with a granola bar and exactly zero enthusiasm.

The meeting was on the top floor of the student center--glass walls, sad muffins, name tags that peeled off weird.

She signed in. Found her table. Sat.

The day dragged. Icebreakers. Buzzwords. One woman actually said "synergy" without irony.

But then there were the guys.

She didn't mean to keep track. But by the end of the day, it was hard not to notice that she'd gotten approached four separate times. Which, on its own, wasn't weird.

What was weird was the vibe.

The first guy--tall, smooth, quiet confidence--sat next to her during a breakout group. Black. Probably mid-20s. Said his name was Marcus. Engineering major. He asked her what she thought about the guest speaker, and when she gave a sarcastic answer, he smiled like he was storing it away for later.

The second guy, Terrence, found her at the coffee table. White. Clean cut. Sharp suit. MBA energy. Called her "Miss Sasha" like he'd known her forever. Flirted like it was breathing.

The third? Malik. Also Black. Dreads pulled back, graphic tee under a blazer. He just walked up and said, "You don't look like you want to be here," like it was a greeting. She didn't deny it. They talked until someone called time on the activity.

And then later, near the end of the day, an Indian guy named Arjun asked if she wanted to grab lunch sometime. Sweet, a little awkward, definitely smart. Caught her off guard in a not-bad way.

By the time she left, Sasha had four names in her notes app that had nothing to do with leadership or networking.

Her brain was buzzing, and not from the stale coffee or the keynote about "emerging cross-campus impact strategies." More like... energy. She couldn't tell if it was the attention, the weird cosmic momentum, or maybe just the afterglow of almost clicking buy now on a fantasy werewolf hookup.

Either way, she had nothing else planned, so she started heading back toward her dorm.

She cut across the quad, headphones in, playlist low, hands tucked into her blazer pockets. It was one of those perfect early afternoon vibes--sun warm but not gross, breeze just enough to mess up your hair a little. The kind of moment you could almost relax into.

Until someone squeezed her ass from behind.

Sasha whipped around, already winding up a slap with full-on don't-touch-me energy--

Only to see Naomi grinning at her, mid-laugh, sunglasses on and completely unbothered.

"You dumbass" Sasha said, half laughing, half scandalized, hand still midair.

Naomi shrugged, not even pretending to look sorry. "Couldn't help it. You were walking like you just got proposed to by all of Alpha Phi."

Sasha rolled her eyes but let the tension drop. "You're lucky it was you. Two more seconds and I would've made a scene."

"Worth it," Naomi said, looping her arm through Sasha's and turning them both toward the dorm path.

They started walking toward the dorms, falling into step like they'd been doing this forever.

Naomi bumped her shoulder playfully. "Guess what."

Sasha gave her a side glance. "You finally got banned from Tinder?"

"Ha. No. Better." Naomi grinned, then leaned in like she was about to tell a state secret. "I hooked up with this guy last night. And girl--girl--listen."

Sasha smirked. "This gonna be one of those stories where I regret having earbuds in my pocket instead of in my ears?"

"Absolutely."

Naomi didn't wait for permission. "So he was this older guy--like, not old old, but like 'knows what he's doing' old. Ran into him outside that new rooftop bar by the bookstore. He was reading a Murakami novel and drinking mezcal straight, so obviously I had to interrupt his mysterious sad boy ritual."

Sasha raised a brow. "You opened with vibes or pickup line?"

"'Is that book as pretentious as it looks?'" Naomi said proudly. "Ten minutes later, we're splitting fries and trauma under mood lighting."

Sasha laughed. "Classic."

"Anyway," Naomi continued, "fast-forward--we end up back at his place, which, by the way, was stupid nice. Plants everywhere. Real sheets. Like, actual adult living."

"Oh damn."

"And when I say he put in work--Sasha, I mean like full-body worship level energy. This man had manners. The good kind. He asked. He listened. He took his time."

Sasha raised both brows. "You? Speechless? That's new."

Naomi nodded dramatically. "I nearly cried. Not from feelings--just pure overstimulation. I saw colors. Heard music. Lost basic math comprehension."

Sasha covered her mouth, laughing into her palm. "You need to write Yelp reviews for these dudes."

Naomi clutched her chest. "Five stars. Highly recommend. Would absolutely fake running into him again just to accidentally ruin my life."

Naomi stopped dead in her tracks. "Okay, no--seriously. Look. You have to see this."

Sasha slowed, instantly suspicious. "Naomi..."

Naomi was already unlocking her phone with that chaos-dripping gleam in her eye. "Okay, I wasn't gonna show you this," she said, thumbing through her gallery. "But I've never looked hotter in my life, and you deserve to witness it."

Sasha raised an eyebrow. "Oh god. Am I about to be traumatized?"

Naomi smirked. "Only in the best way."

She flipped the screen toward Sasha. "Boom."

Sasha blinked. "Naomi--wh.. Oh.. Jesus Christ!"

Naomi leaned forward, delighted. "Right? Look at that angle. That's me, mid-blowjob, still managing to make eye contact with the camera like I'm seducing the photographer."

"You are the photographer," Sasha pointed out, horrified and vaguely impressed.

"Exactly," Naomi said. "That's called vision."

Sasha squinted at the photo. "How is your lipstick still mostly intact?"

Naomi preened. "Lip stain, babe. And prep work."

She swiped to the next photo.

Sasha recoiled. "Oh my god."

Naomi grinned. "Now this one? Masterpiece. I set the timer, climbed on top of him--mid-line-up, hand between my thighs, thighs framed just right--tell me I don't look like the cover of 'Filthy, But Make It Fashion.'"

"You look like the villain in a French erotic thriller," Sasha said, covering her eyes with her hand. "Like, hot, but I also feel like I should be arrested just for looking."

Naomi shrugged, pleased. "I'm basically my own genre."

"You're a whole niche."

Naomi winked. "Better than being forgettable."

Naomi adjusted the strap of her tote bag as they strolled past the student center, the buzz of campus softening into background hum. "Anyway," she said, slipping her phone back into her pocket, "I just wanted to remind you of the bar, in case you ever feel like raising it."

Sasha snorted. "That bar's in orbit. I'm just trying to make it through a semester without someone calling me intimidating for having opinions."

Naomi grinned, elbowing her lightly. "Then babe, you're overdue for a rebrand."

They turned onto the shaded path near the library, the brick walls glowing in the warm spill of late light. Naomi tossed her hair over one shoulder like she was on a runway instead of a sidewalk.

"You need someone who ruins you with eye contact," she continued. "Someone who gets it--like, yes, I have anxiety and a skincare routine, and I still want to be pinned to the wall with intention."

Sasha laughed, loud and sharp. "That's your thesis statement, huh?"

"Absolutely. And I defend it weekly." Naomi smirked, then added, "But for real--when was the last time you were with someone who actually made you feel seen?"

Sasha paused, chewing on her answer.

Naomi noticed, softened. "Exactly."

They kept walking. A breeze pulled at Sasha's hoodie. She shoved her hands deeper into the front pocket.

"It's not like I don't want that," she said quietly. "I just... don't know where to look anymore. Everyone either wants my body or my résumé, never both."

Naomi gave her a sidelong glance. "That's because you're a full-course meal trying to date people who think breadcrumbs are a personality."

Sasha smiled, despite herself. "You're such a bitch."

They reached the crosswalk. The signal blinked red, but neither of them moved.

The light turned green.

And they crossed. Together.

By the time they got to Sasha's dorm, the sun was lower, casting long stripes across the floor through the blinds. It was quiet, warm, still holding that kind of late afternoon haze that made everything feel slow and kind of soft around the edges.

Sasha unlocked the door and stepped inside with a sigh, already kicking off her shoes before it even swung shut. Naomi followed close behind, dropping her tote dramatically in the middle of the room like it had offended her.

"Ugh, I hate being the only one that get to share this stuff. Why can't you ever just fuck someone for a change" she said, flopping down onto the tiny couch like she owned the place.

Sasha didn't say a word when she walked in--just dropped her bag like it was toxic and started stripping. Blazer first, flung over a chair. Then her button-down, slow and tired, like peeling off the day itself. Her jeans followed, shimmying down her hips in that lazy, end-of-the-world kind of undress until she was standing there in her black panties and a faded gray bralette that had zero support but all the history.

She didn't care. Naomi had seen her naked, horny, sobbing--sometimes all three at once.

"I'm dead," Sasha mumbled, rubbing her face, then dragging herself over to the kitchen counter like she might melt into it.

Naomi peeked over from the couch, chin propped on her hand. "Babe... that's a lot of thigh for someone pretending to be emotionally stable."

Sasha let out a half-snort, half-groan. "Fuck off."

Naomi got up without missing a beat, sauntered over like it was any other Tuesday. She stopped right in front of Sasha, eyes all mischief, body close enough to make Sasha's skin hum.

Then--casual as hell--Naomi ran a finger down Sasha's bare arm. "Be honest... don't you ever just wanna get absolutely fucking railed?"

Sasha blinked. "Excuse me?!"

Naomi grinned. "Like, thrown-around-the-room, hair-pulled, legs-shaking wrecked. C'mon. You're so pent-up you're basically vibrating."

Sasha laughed, helpless. "You're disgusting."

"Yeah," Naomi said, stepping closer, "but not wrong."

Her hand slid down Sasha's hip, fingers hooking in the waistband of her panties, tugging just enough to tease. Not aggressive--just familiar. Like it was muscle memory.

Sasha sucked in a breath.

They'd always been like this. Touchy, teasing, toeing the line so hard it didn't even exist anymore. This? This was just what they did. Normal.

"You're such a slut," Sasha muttered, cheeks pink.

"And you let me be," Naomi whispered, slipping her hand lower, palm warm against Sasha's skin.

She pressed, just enough to feel. Just enough to make Sasha inhale like she'd been caught doing something sinful.

"Holy fuck," Naomi murmured. "You're wet."

Sasha groaned. "Naomi..."

Sasha whimpered.

Naomi's other hand came up, cupping Sasha's tits through the bralette, giving a greedy little squeeze like she'd done it a hundred times before. And she had. "This little top barely covers anything. Honestly, rude."

"God, you're impossible," Sasha breathed, head tipping back.

"Impossible and inside your panties," Naomi said sweetly, pushing two fingers in like it was nothing. "Just another Tuesday."

Sasha gasped, hand flying to the counter for support. "Oh my god--"

Naomi curled her fingers just right. "There she is."

Naomi didn't stop. Just kept moving her fingers slow and deep, her thumb circling Sasha's clit like she was tuning an instrument she'd played forever. She knew this body. Knew exactly how to drag those helpless little sounds out of Sasha's throat.

"Fuck, Naomi--" Sasha's voice cracked, one hand gripping the edge of the counter, the other tangled in Naomi's hoodie. "You're actually evil."

Naomi smiled against her neck. "Babe, you're dripping down my fingers. Don't act like you don't love this."

Sasha whimpered, hips rocking without shame. "We're not even in bed..."

"So?" Naomi giggled, nipping at Sasha's jaw. "I've made you cum on this countertop like, what, three times?"

"That was different," Sasha gasped.

"How?" Naomi's voice was soft and filthy. "Same fingers. Same panties. Same sweet little pussy begging to be used."

Sasha's knees wobbled. "I fucking hate you."

Naomi's smirk was pure chaos. "Liar. You fucking love me when I've got you like this."

And just to prove her point, she curled her fingers hard, pressing in deep, thumb flicking against Sasha's clit in tight, expert circles.

Sasha sobbed--not even quiet about it. Just a wreck of breathy moans and half-whimpers, her whole body trembling.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, Naomi--"

"Right there?" Naomi asked, eyes wide and innocent as she picked up the pace. "Yeah? You gonna make a mess for me, babe?"

Sasha couldn't answer--her thighs were shaking, nails digging into Naomi's arm, head thrown back with this look like she was right on the fucking edge.

"Let go," Naomi whispered, voice suddenly low and rough. "Be a good girl and come for me."

And Sasha did--loud, high, totally unfiltered.

Her whole body bucked, hips grinding against Naomi's hand like she couldn't help herself, riding it out with these sweet, desperate sounds that made Naomi's stomach twist with heat.

Naomi watched her fall apart, heart pounding, still moving her fingers slow and gentle through the aftershocks. "Fuck, that was so hot."

Sasha let out a broken laugh, completely wrecked. "I hate you. Like, actually hate you."

Naomi grinned. "Mmhmm. That's why you're still clenching around my fingers."

"Shut up," Sasha muttered, trying to gather herself, but she was all jelly-legs and flushed cheeks.

Naomi finally pulled her fingers out, slow and teasing, then held them up--glossy, shining, shameless. "Seriously though. You could bottle this."

Sasha groaned and buried her face in her arm.

But Naomi wasn't done being a menace.

She slipped her hand around Sasha's waist, dipping into the back of her panties, grabbing a full handful of ass with a greedy squeeze. "God, I'll never get over this perfect fuckin' peach. You're built to be bent over things."

"You're obsessed," Sasha muttered, not even bothering to stop her.

"I really am," Naomi said sweetly, pressing her lips to Sasha's shoulder, then licking up her neck just because she could.

That's when--of course--her phone buzzed on the counter.

Naomi glanced at the screen and groaned. "No. Fucking. Way."

Sasha lifted her head, hair a mess. "What?"

Naomi sighed, pulling her hand out of Sasha's panties like it was the biggest tragedy of her life. "My idiot brother. Locked himself out. Again."

Sasha blinked, still dazed. "Naomi. You cannot leave me like this."

Naomi smirked, licking her fingers clean with slow, obscene precision. "I think I gave you more than you needed, babe. Don't be greedy."

"I hate you," Sasha groaned, half-laughing, half-wrecked.

Naomi grabbed her bag, tossed Sasha a flirty wink. "Bookmark the vibe, babygirl. I'm gonna need a rematch later."

She blew a kiss and waltzed out like she hadn't just fingered her best friend into a full-body meltdown in the kitchen.

The second the door clicked shut, Sasha let out a loud, exasperated groan.

"Fucking slut," she muttered at the empty room, then immediately added, "God, I love her."

Her whole body was buzzing -- skin hot, pulse thudding in places it had no business thudding. It felt like every nerve had been turned way up and then left hanging. Literally.

She looked down at herself: panties halfway twisted, a faint pink flush still blooming across her chest. She hadn't been touched like that in... what? A year and a half? Yeah. Eighteen freaking months since someone -- anyone -- had gotten her off.

"Cool," she whispered to the kitchen. "I'm actually a feral mess."

She shuffled over to the couch, flopped down like a boneless cat, and let out the most dramatic sigh ever released in a dorm room.

Naomi had just dipped after practically rewiring her brain -- and now Sasha was left horny, annoyed, and weirdly emotional. Like, yeah, it was fun and familiar and very much "this-is-fine-we're-besties-who-grope," but it also hit different. Deeper. Or maybe it was just her body screaming for attention after a year of dry spells and dodging weird Tinder dates.

She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm not booking that stupid app," she said out loud. "I'm not."

Her phone buzzed.

A text from Naomi:

u still thinking about the werewolf cabin ????

Sasha let out a half-laugh, half-groan.

She stared at the Qwinki icon on her phone. That soft glowing "Q" just sitting there, quiet and patient, like it knew she was about to break.

"Ugh. Fuck it!"

She unlocked her phone and tapped it.

The screen pulsed to life -- smooth, minimal, that same quiet breathe-with-you vibe it had the first time. Like it wasn't just an app, but some weird, seductive invitation.

"Resume setup?"

She tapped yes.

Because seriously -- what was even stopping her at this point?

It definitely wasn't the price. The $499 tag might've made a normal person choke, but for Sasha? That was like... the equivalent of a fancy sushi night she'd forget about in a week.

Her parents were loaded. Not like cute-trust-fund-loaded -- like actual real-estate-investment-moguls-who-buy-warehouses-for-fun loaded.

Her mom ran some kind of boutique design firm that somehow kept getting hired by brands that made "quiet luxury" pants for $1,200. Her dad? Tech-adjacent something-something. The kind of guy who used words like "liquidity" and "exit strategy" in casual conversation.

Naomi's parents were just as insane. Her mom basically cornered the organic skincare market on Instagram, and her dad had built a boutique crypto firm back when everyone thought Bitcoin was just a joke. They'd both grown up with heated bathroom floors and matching Louis Vuitton luggage before they could spell either.

So yeah -- Sasha didn't need to think twice about a five-hundred-dollar fantasy session.

It was the emotional whiplash she was stuck on.

One second she was getting fingered by her best friend, and the next she was alone on her couch about to digitally book a hookup with a literal werewolf in a moonlit forest.

"Peak chaos," she muttered, thumb hovering over the screen. "But like... whatever. I deserve this."

She hit Continue Setup.

The screen rippled softly, then loaded back into that dreamy customization dashboard -- environment still set to Moonlit Forest, partner still tagged as Werewolf.

She didn't even try to change it. Something about it just clicked.

She scrolled to the bottom, heart thudding way too loud for something supposedly "casual," and hit:

Proceed to Payment + Schedule.

The app asked for face scan confirmation -- sleek and discreet.

A soft chime rang out as her face scan confirmed. The screen shimmered, then blinked to a new screen.

Nearest Suite Available:

Tonight - 9:30 PM

Arrival time suggested: 9:15 PM

Estimated drive: 43 minutes

Sasha blinked.

"Wait. Tonight?" she said to her living room, suddenly sitting upright like her couch had personally betrayed her.

She checked the time: 7:08 PM.

Oh my god.

She had, like, two hours. Maybe.

Her phone buzzed again as the app moved to the final confirmation screen. One simple line glowed across the screen in that soothing, not-at-all-helpful Qwinki font:

"Please arrive in the appearance you wish to embody within the scenario."

Sasha stared at it.

"What the hell does that mean?"

Then realization hit, slow and creeping.

"Oh my god I have to get ready like I'm actually going on a date with a... werewolf."

She scrambled off the couch in full panic. "I'm gonna be late to my own fantasy hookup with a literal wolf man. This is where my life is at."

Shower on. Steam rising. She scrubbed, shaved, exfoliated everything. Legs, pits, situation. Shampooed twice even though she knew she didn't have time. Conditioner in, body washed in that cinnamon-vanilla stuff that made her smell like a candle in heat.

By the time she stepped out, she was already sweating again -- wrapped in a towel, hair dripping, heart pounding.

She tore into her closet like it owed her something, pulling out lingerie she didn't even remember buying, muttering to herself the whole time.

"Okay. Not red lace. That feels too Little Red Riding Hood. Ew. No."

She tossed a silk slip onto her bed. "Cute but maybe too delicate for the forest thing?"

Breathe.

Think.

Would you want to be eaten in this outfit -- and not in the murder way?

She stood there in her closet like she was about to walk into battle. A very... sexy, possibly supernatural battle. With fangs.

"Okay. Focus," she muttered, digging through her drawers like a woman possessed. "This isn't just a hookup. This is, like, a custom fantasy experience. You don't show up in Target panties for that."

She reached for the one set she never wore unless she was really trying to manifest hot girl energy -- her all-black, don't-fuck-with-me-but-maybe-do lingerie set.

The bra was barely even a bra -- more like black mesh scaffolding for her boobs. No padding, no nonsense. Just sheer, delicate cups with thin straps that crisscrossed across her chest like lingerie origami. Gold accents at the straps gave it that expensive, slightly dangerous edge.

She slid it on, adjusting the cups so her nipples sat just behind the soft mesh, barely hidden. It hugged her like it was made for this night -- snug and high-cut, lifting her just enough to feel stupid hot without being uncomfortable.

Then came the panties: matching black mesh, high-waisted with double side straps that sat high on her hips and framed her butt like a gift someone was definitely about to unwrap. The cut in the back was straight-up sinful -- the kind that made her ass look heart-shaped and biteable. Which, if a werewolf was involved, felt... appropriate?

"God," she whispered, turning in the mirror. "I look like I'm about to ruin someone's afterlife."

For the final touch, she pulled on a sheer black robe -- gauzy and soft, tied loosely at the waist. It floated when she moved, like smoke or drama. The sleeves were oversized and witchy. It gave "haunting the forest in hot lingerie because I'm emotionally unstable," which honestly tracked.

Hair? Down, soft waves.

Lips? She gave herself a little gloss.

Vibe? Feral fairy slut meets dark cottagecore fantasy.

She stared at her reflection one last time and whispered, "I'm about to get wrecked in the woods and I'm so okay with that."

She grabbed a hoodie to throw on over everything (because she couldn't walk into the Qwinki building looking like she'd just stepped out of a sex spell), then slipped into her boots and grabbed her keys.

One last glance in the mirror.

"Okay. Deep breath. It's just a fantasy hookup with a fictional monster in a fake forest. Totally normal."

She paused at the door. Smirked.

"God, Naomi's gonna die when I tell her."

hen she was out the door.

The air hit her legs as she stepped into the parking lot and she had a mini heart attack realizing she'd left the house basically in lingerie. Thank god for the hoodie.

She slid into her car, locked the doors, and just sat there for a second.

You are literally driving to a secret fantasy suite to hook up with a werewolf. You are not okay. But also... this might heal you.

The second she pulled out of the lot and hit the main road, she felt her hands start to sweat.

Like--yes, she was the one who booked this. Yes, she hit "confirm" on a $499 hookup like it was a Sephora order. But now that it was real? And coming up in under 40 minutes?

Brain: panic.

Body: feral.

Vibe: hot mess.

She turned up her playlist. Something low and vibey, with a beat that made her thighs squeeze together every time the bass dropped. She didn't even realize how tightly she was gripping the wheel until she had to shake her hands out at a red light.

"This is actually insane," she whispered, glancing at herself in the rearview. "You're about to let a VR werewolf fuck you in a made-up forest. Naomi is gonna lose her mind."

The drive was long enough to overthink but not long enough to fully calm down. Her stomach was fluttering, her skin still sensitive from the rush of getting ready so fast.

About 15 minutes out, the GPS rerouted her off the main road and down a quieter stretch -- office parks, tech buildings, the kind of sterile landscape that felt weirdly secretive.

And then... there it was.

A sleek, concrete building with no sign. Just a glowing silver Q above a set of mirrored doors.

Her GPS chimed: You have arrived.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

She pulled into the small private lot, parked, and sat there for a second, staring at the building like it was going to bite her first.

Sasha took a deep breath, slipped her hoodie hood down, and stepped through the mirrored doors.

The air inside the building was immediately cooler -- quiet, still, with this weird, expensive scent in the air. Like... eucalyptus, cedar, and maybe a little bit of intimidation.

The lobby was modern and minimal: black stone floors, soft lights, a single long desk at the far end with a glowing "Q" behind it.

And behind that desk sat a man.

Older. White. Balding, but trying not to be. Dressed in a crisp gray button-up that probably hadn't smiled in years. He looked like someone's divorced uncle who read cybersecurity blogs for fun.

Sasha walked up, trying to keep her face neutral and not hi I'm here to get railed by a fantasy creature please don't judge me.

He glanced up from his monitor, then did a slow, obvious once-over.

"Well," he said, voice dry and just a little too amused. "Somebody went all out tonight."

Sasha froze for half a second, then gave the fakest smile she could muster. "Hi. I'm checking in."

"Name?" he asked, typing slowly, like his keyboard personally offended him.

"Sasha Owenwright."

He typed for a few seconds, then looked up again, his eyes way too interested.

"Moonlit Forest, huh?" He smirked. "That's a... popular one. Lot of girls your age go for the rougher types."

Sasha blinked, her whole body stiffening.

"Great," she said, voice flat. "Love that for me."

He clearly thought he was being charming. He wasn't.

He clicked a few more things on the screen, then slid a sleek black keycard across the counter.

"Suite Seven. Take the elevator to the second floor, follow the hall. It'll open automatically when it senses you."

She snatched the card with a tight smile.

"Thanks."

"Have fun," he added, leaning back in his chair like he was dying to say something worse.

Sasha turned on her heel and walked away fast enough to feel the breeze from her own rage.

As soon as she was in the elevator, alone, she muttered, "Okay. Ew."

Still -- she pressed the button for Floor 2.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing a narrow hallway lit by recessed golden lights that somehow felt both soothing and kind of... sensual.

Sasha walked slowly, heart pounding, heels echoing against the stone floor.

Suite Seven's door opened the second she got close, just like the front desk guy said. No handle. No knock. Just a soft hiss and a reveal -- like the room was exhaling her inside.

The space was... not what she expected.

Less "weird lab" and more "luxury spa designed by a tech billionaire who definitely has secrets." The lighting was low and amber-toned. The floor was warm under her feet. And in the center of the room was what looked like a reclined, egg-shaped chair -- sleek, black, padded in all the right places. Like a spaceship massage pod, if the spaceship was into kink.

"Oh. Hi," said a voice, snapping her back.

She turned -- and there was a technician. Youngish, maybe late twenties, with dark skin, sharp cheekbones, and a white tech vest over matte gray scrubs. They wore clear glasses and had a tablet tucked under one arm.

They smiled at her like this was just another Tuesday. "Sasha Owenwright?"

"Yep," she said, cheeks flushed but trying to sound chill.

"I'm Ryen, I'll be your integration tech tonight," they said, swiping through her session info on the tablet. "Nothing to worry about. I'm just here to get you connected to the system, walk you through the calibration, and make sure everything's safe, stable, and tailored to your specs."

"Cool," Sasha said, glancing at the chair. "So... I just sit in the sci-fi sex pod and hope for the best?"

Ryen chuckled. "Basically, yeah. But I'll explain how it works."

They motioned for her to sit. Sasha slid into the chair slowly, the material molding to her body like it had been waiting for her. It was shockingly comfortable. Her back rested into the incline, legs slightly bent, knees parted naturally by the shape of the seat.

"Okay," Ryen said, voice calm and practiced. "This is a full-spectrum sensory interface system. What that means is, we're gonna map your neural activity, plug in a few feedback inputs, and then your scenario will be streamed directly into your cortex -- visuals, audio, touch, temperature, emotional modulation -- all synced and responsive."

Sasha blinked. "Okay, wait. Emotional modulation?"

"Yeah. It can tune into your heart rate, hormone spikes, and even subtle expressions to adjust intensity -- like, say you start to get overwhelmed or panicky, it'll ease off. If you're vibing and ready to push further, it'll escalate. Think of it like an intelligent dream that listens to your body."

She swallowed. "Right. Casual."

Ryen smiled again. "You're in full control the whole time. Nothing happens without your brain's say-so. The system responds to thought-movement -- so if you want to move, kiss, run, touch, you just think it, and your avatar acts it out inside the space."

"Cool," Sasha said. "Very sexy telepathy. Got it."

"Exactly." They walked around her now, prepping something off a stainless-steel tray.

"We'll apply six feedback nodes," they continued. "Two for neural input, two for audio/visual immersion, and two for sensory reception. These last two will go... on intimate zones."

Sasha nodded, cheeks heating. "Right. I figured."

"You okay with me placing those directly?" Ryen asked gently, gloves already on.

"Yeah," she said, trying not to sound too breathy.

Ryen worked efficiently -- starting by placing a sleek adhesive disc just behind each ear. "These are your neural gates. They'll sync brainwave signals to the simulation."

Then came a soft, pliable headset -- more like a crown than a helmet -- which rested along her brow and temples. "Visual and auditory input," they explained. "Once this is active, you won't hear or see anything from this room. Just your scenario. Like waking up inside a dream."

Sasha nodded, fingers gripping the sides of the chair.

Ryen knelt next. "Sensory anchors."

She felt a gentle brush against her inner thigh as they adjusted the lower part of the chair. Sasha shifted slightly, legs opening wider by the chair's design.

First, they pressed a cool, gel-lined contact just outside her clit, carefully smoothing it into place.

"This tracks pressure, friction, heat, and muscular response," they said, not missing a beat. "It doesn't stimulate directly -- it just reads and echoes the simulation's touch."

Ryen moved to the lower tray, sliding it out from the base of the pod to reveal a small lineup of sleek, skin-toned sensors. Everything looked high-end, medical but minimalist -- like tech designed by someone who definitely knew what luxury kink should feel like.

"Next, we'll apply your tactile inputs," they said calmly, glancing at the tablet again. "You opted in for enhanced feedback -- that includes full genital mapping, optional breast nodes.. the whole shabang."

Ryen reached for a small, rounded pad first -- cool to the touch -- and slid it gently between her legs. "This is your primary sensor," they said as they worked. "Mapped to external genitalia -- clitoral hood, labia, surrounding pressure points. It doesn't stimulate on its own -- it reacts to stimuli inside the scenario."

Sasha gasped quietly as it settled against her, flush with her skin -- soft, snug, and way more intimate than she'd expected.

"Doing okay?" Ryen asked, glancing up.

"Yeah," she breathed. "Just... new."

Next came a smaller adhesive, placed with similar care -- a light press between her cheeks, centered with clinical precision.

"This is your secondary zone sensor," Ryen said softly. "Again -- echo only. It won't do anything unless the scenario includes stimulation there. You can shut it off anytime with a thought command or safe word."

Sasha nodded, cheeks fully pink now.

Then, more gently: "You also opted in for breast sensitivity. I'll place the final two nodes now."

She watched as they retrieved two ultra-thin silicone discs from a sealed pouch -- no wires, no mess, just smooth tech and barely-there sensors.

"You're welcome to do these yourself if you'd prefer," Ryen offered, stepping back.

Sasha hesitated -- then gave a half-smile. "It's fine."

The chill of the air hit her as she took her hoodie off for Ryen to place them. Their fingers were respectful but precise -- positioning the pads directly over her nipples, smoothing them into place like it was just another part of the checklist.

She flinched slightly at the second one -- not from discomfort, but from the sudden, sharp awareness of just how wired in she now was.

"All six active," Ryen said, watching the sensors blink softly green on the tablet. "You're fully mapped. Sensory fidelity's at 94%. Excellent."

Sasha exhaled shakily, sinking deeper into the pod.

Ryen adjusted the headband slightly, then tapped a soft panel at the side of the chair. It reclined further -- and suddenly the world felt distant. Like she was already halfway gone.

"You'll start with a short calibration pulse," Ryen said. "Just a few seconds of body scan. Then we hand it all off to the scenario."

They paused.

"After that, we won't be here anymore -- as far as your brain knows."

Sasha nodded, barely able to form words.

"If at any point you want to pause, say 'pause' or just think it hard enough. We'll pull you out in five seconds or less."

Her breath was shallow now. "Okay."

Ryen tapped something on the tablet, then looked up. "Before your scenario starts, you'll enter a short calibration space. Think of it like a test room -- it lets your nervous system adjust to the simulation slowly, before the intensity ramps up."

Sasha nodded slowly, eyes wide behind the headset.

"It'll feel a little surreal at first," they went on. "Like your body's there, but not fully settled yet. Totally normal. After a minute or two, everything will click into place. Kind of like lucid dreaming -- but way more stable."

Sasha gave a nervous little laugh. "Okay. So like... techy dream foreplay."

Ryen smiled. "Exactly. You'll use the calibration space to test out movement, thought-response, sensory awareness -- see what your boundaries feel like inside the sim."

"And then the forest starts?"

"Correct. The transition will happen organically, and every scenario unfolds differently depending on your choices and neural patterns, so... I can't tell you how to navigate it."

Sasha blinked. "Wait, so there's no script?"

"Nope. The system reacts to your thoughts, emotions, reactions. You're not 'playing' a character -- you are the character."

"Okay," she muttered, half to herself. "No pressure or anything."

"When you're ready," Ryen said, stepping back, "just give a double thumbs-up. The system will interpret that as consent to fully engage."

Sasha lifted her hands slowly. "Double thumbs-up," she whispered, then actually gave them.

A soft chime sounded. Warm. Encouraging.

The headset darkened completely.

The chair shifted under her -- and then wasn't there at all.

--

She opened her eyes and blinked into light.

It wasn't the forest yet. She was standing in a wide, open room -- soft glowing panels underfoot, no walls, just a horizonless space full of gentle golden mist. It looked like a designer yoga studio floating in the void.

"Whoa," she muttered. "Okay. Yeah. This is... trippy."

She raised a hand, wiggled her fingers.

It moved exactly how it should. Her body felt light but grounded -- like she was standing inside her own dream. Her limbs responded instantly to her thoughts: a step forward, a turn, a soft kneel. She didn't have to force anything. Her body just moved.

"Okay. So this is me," she said, looking down at herself. "God, this is so weird."

Then she froze.

She was wearing the robe. The exact sheer black one she'd thrown on before leaving her apartment. Underneath it? The strappy mesh bra. The black panties with the double straps.

She looked exactly how she'd looked in the real world -- down to the slight smear of lip gloss and the faint bend in her curls from her ponytail earlier.

"What the hell," she whispered.

A soft system voice -- not Ryen, but warm and female -- answered from nowhere and everywhere:

"Clothing and avatar skin were mapped via external biometric scan upon suite entry. Your neural profile retained tactile self-recognition preferences to increase scenario realism and bodily ownership."

Sasha blinked.

"... So I basically uploaded my hot girl self into fantasy VR?"

"Confirmed."

"Cool," she said, exhaling. "Very casual. Love that."

She walked forward a little, toes curling on the floor, testing her balance. There was no lag, no floatiness, no rubbery sim-legs. Just... her.

But sharper. Warmer. More alive.

She ran her hands over her arms, her hips, her chest -- and felt everything. The robe brushing her thighs. The gentle cling of mesh across her breasts. Even the slight breeze in the air brushing past her nipples, which were definitely getting hard.

"Okay, chill," she muttered, laughing softly. "You haven't even met your werewolf yet."

She paused in the golden mist, heart thudding in that too-real, too-excited kind of way. Her toes wiggled against the glowing floor. She took a breath, rolled her shoulders back, then brought both hands up slowly.

"Alright," she whispered, voice shaky but certain.

Double thumbs-up.

There was no sound this time. No system chime or glowing graphic.

The world simply shifted.

The mist pulled away like fog getting sucked into the trees. The floor beneath her rippled -- not like metal or tile anymore, but moss. Cool, soft, uneven. The air thickened with the scent of pine and damp bark and something musky, low, and warm -- like cedar smoke and skin.

The light changed too.

It was no longer ambient gold but deep silver-blue, the soft glow of moonlight spilling through branches high above. Wind stirred the trees. Leaves danced. The robe around her legs moved like it had been caught in the current of a dream.

"Whoa," Sasha whispered. She took a slow spin, looking up.

The sky above was velvet black and full of stars.

Beneath her feet: moss, dirt, the occasional flicker of mushrooms or wildflowers glowing faintly in the dark. The ground beneath her felt gentle and welcoming. She took off her shoes.

She touched her arms again -- still hers. Still soft and electric. The sensors weren't sensors anymore. They were sensation. Memory. Her body felt flushed and perfectly tuned to the environment, like the whole world was a warm breath waiting to exhale against her skin.

She took a few steps forward. The trees parted without effort. Her bare feet didn't hurt on the earth. It was like the forest wanted her there.

Tall, shadowed trunks layered with mist and moonlight. No path. No signs. Just endless forest that looked too beautiful to be real -- because technically, it wasn't.

But it felt real. The air moved like breath on her skin. Her body buzzed softly with heat and curiosity, like her nerve endings had already figured out where this was going, even if her brain hadn't caught up.

"Alright," Sasha murmured, brushing her robe aside as she stepped forward. "I guess I'm just... exploring."

The moss squished softly under her feet. Not gross -- just soft. Cool. Dream-damp. Every step she took felt intentional, even though there was no clear direction. Her robe drifted around her thighs, light as smoke, teasing against her skin with every move.

She passed under a low-hanging branch and reached out to touch it. The bark was rough, almost wet with dew. She smelled sap and something sweet underneath -- like night-blooming flowers or wild honey.

"Okay, forest," she whispered, glancing around. "Very extra of you."

No response. Just wind and trees.

Still... the silence felt loaded. Not empty. Like someone was watching her. Or waiting.

She paused, listening.

Nothing. No footsteps, no growls, no wolves peeking from the bushes.

"Cool," she muttered. "I'm definitely not being hunted right now in my lingerie."

She kept walking.

The trees shifted again. Not in a scary way -- just subtle. Like they were making room for her. Each step felt deeper. Softer. The forest changed as she moved through it -- the moonlight pooling differently, the air warming slightly. A few stray fireflies drifted past her hips, casting tiny gold glows across her bare legs.

And still: no creature. No partner. No touch.

Just her.

The buildup is killing me, she thought.

Was that on purpose? Did the system know how impatient she was? Was this the Qwinki version of foreplay -- making her wander around half-naked in the woods with her body already tuned to high alert?

Because, if so... rude.

And hot.

Sasha paused again, one hand on her hip, the other dragging her fingers gently along the front of her robe.

"Okay," she said out loud, "this better be leading somewhere soon. Because I'm, like, two seconds from climbing a tree and screaming 'come get me, Daddy Werewolf.'"

The wind stirred -- sudden and deliberate.

Leaves rustled above her.

And far ahead -- between the trees -- a flicker of movement.

Not the wind.

Something large.

Watching.

Still.

And then gone.

Sasha's breath hitched. Her thighs pressed together, instinctively.

"Oh," she whispered, smiling just a little. "There you are."

She didn't hesitate.

Didn't run. Just... walked toward it.

Barefoot. Slow. Like the forest was pulling her forward with invisible strings tied around her waist.

The trees seemed to lean out of her way again, as if they were in on it -- on him. As if this whole place had been designed not just for fantasy, but for inevitability. Everything felt like buildup now. Like touch before touch.

Sasha moved carefully, her robe whispering around her thighs, her breath coming shallow. Every step pressed heat deeper into her core, and her body buzzed with that same wired tension -- anticipation laced with arousal, with curiosity, with a little bit of fear, which just made it hotter somehow.

"Okay," she said softly, as she ducked under a thick branch. "You want me to chase you? Fine."

It wasn't a voice that had answered her -- but presence. Something massive. Not just in size, but in intent. It was watching her. Not from above. Not from below. From right there, somewhere between trees just a little too far to see clearly.

She could feel it.

Eyes on her. The kind that didn't blink.

Predator eyes.

She stepped over a root, into a soft patch of earth that dipped slightly downhill. The air was thicker here -- heavy with pine and dark heat. No mist anymore. Just the scent of soil and something wild. Something male.

Her whole body shivered.

A rustle to her right -- fast, then gone again.

She turned toward it, half-smiling, half-daring.

"I know you're out there," she said, teasing. "You gonna make me come find you?"

Silence.

Then a low sound. Not a growl -- not yet -- but a breath. Long. Controlled. Close.

Sasha froze mid-step.

The air changed again. Charged now. Like the static right before lightning. Like a held-in breath waiting to strike.

Something moved again. Closer. The trees shifted.

And then--

She saw it.

Just a shape at first. Tall. Broad. Covered in shadows and muscle and something not entirely human. Fur, yes -- but not messy or beastly. Smooth. Sleek. A body that had form, not just size. Shoulders too wide to be real. Eyes glowing faintly gold. A faint glint of claws.

And suddenly, her whole body went still.

Not from excitement.

But something colder.

Her breath hitched, chest tightening as the creature stepped forward again -- slow, purposeful, and silent. It wasn't clumsy. It wasn't snarling or monstrous. It was... composed.

But huge. Inhuman.

The kind of thing that looked like it could pin her down and not even break a sweat doing it.

Sasha took a half-step back before she even realized it. Her heel landed on a wet patch of moss, almost slipping.

Her hands were shaking.

"Okay," she whispered, voice barely audible. "Okay, wait."

She felt it all at once -- the thrum in her chest, the way her fingers curled into her palms. Her body was flushed, buzzing with that high-alert adrenaline that wasn't quite panic but definitely wasn't comfort either.

This was real. Her brain believed it.

Her breath came in shallow pulls now, robe clinging to her slightly damp skin. Every sound in the forest seemed to stretch longer. The air thinned, like she was suddenly aware of just how alone she was out here.

He stepped closer.

Ten feet.

The glow of his eyes sharpened, catching the light. Not cruel -- but intent. Controlled. He didn't growl. Didn't lunge.

He just watched.

And waited.

Sasha wrapped her arms around herself, robe brushing her forearms, suddenly very aware of how bare she was. Her thighs, her chest, the stretch of mesh across her breasts -- all of it felt more exposed than it had ten seconds ago.

"I..." she tried, but the words stuck.

The creature tilted its head.

Not threatening. Just... curious.

Almost like he knew. Like the system was reading her hesitation and letting her feel the edge of it. That space where danger and desire held hands.

"Pause?" she whispered, unsure.

Nothing happened.

Because she hadn't meant it.

Not yet.

He moved.

Slow, deliberate, and absolutely silent -- not a leaf crackled beneath his weight.

Sasha didn't breathe.

He crossed the space between them in just a few steps, until he was right in front of her.

Massive.

The curve of his shoulders blocking the trees behind him. Fur brushed against the moonlight, smooth and impossibly clean, like he'd been carved from shadow. His chest rose and fell, slow and deep -- the kind of breathing that didn't belong to something human.

And then -- he leaned in.

Not like a kiss.

Like an inspection.

His face hovered inches from hers -- close enough that she could see the silver glint of fangs beneath parted lips. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. And then--

she smelled it.

Warm, wet, animal.

Not dirt. Not pine.

Meat.

His breath was heavy and humid and undeniably real. It hit her skin like steam off a fresh kill.

Sasha flinched.

Her whole body reacted at once -- her thighs locked, breath caught in her throat, and her stomach twisted in a way that wasn't quite fear but wasn't pleasure either.

She took a shaky step back, toes gripping moss.

The creature didn't follow.

He just watched her again -- head still tilted, like he was trying to figure her out. His breath moved slower now, less intense. The fangs were still visible, but he hadn't bared them.

And her heel caught on something soft but uneven -- a twist of root or moss or maybe her own nerves.

She fell.

It wasn't graceful.

Her foot slid out from under her, and she hit the forest floor with a soft gasp, palms scraping against the earth. The moss was damp and cool against her back, and the robe twisted slightly around her thighs, leaving her more exposed than she wanted to be in that moment.

"Shit," she breathed, blinking up at the canopy of trees. The leaves above shimmered silver-blue, blurred by the pounding in her head.

She didn't move.

Not yet.

Because he was still there.

Watching.

And then -- he moved again.

Slow. Silent.

He stepped toward her, towering, blocking out the moonlight as he loomed over where she lay.

She could hear the deep inhale he took -- low in his chest. Smelling her. Reading her. Maybe even tasting the shift in her fear.

His head lowered.

Down, down, until his face hovered above hers again -- close enough that she could see the different textures of his fur, the twitch of his nose, the shimmer of something dark in those glowing eyes.

He didn't move.

Just hovered -- his breath hot and thick where he'd licked her skin, every inch of his body still caging hers in like a question he was waiting for her to answer.

Sasha's chest rose and fell in shallow, unsteady waves. Her thighs squeezed together beneath the robe, heat pulsing low and steady between them.

"You're so close," she whispered, the words breathy, barely there. Her voice didn't even sound like hers anymore -- higher, softer, ruined at the edges. "Like, way close."

He let out a low sound in response -- not a growl. Something more like a hum. It vibrated through his chest, and she could feel it where his fur grazed her collarbone.

His mouth lowered again -- slower this time -- and his tongue grazed her neck once more, the pressure softer now, but still impossibly hot. It dragged just beneath her jaw, tracing the edge of her throat like he was tasting her nerves.

"God," she gasped, arching slightly beneath him, robe pulling tighter across her chest. "You're really doing this?"

Another rumble. Closer now. His snout brushed against her cheek, then the curve of her jaw. She could feel the edge of his teeth -- not biting, just there. A promise.

Her voice was barely a whisper. "You're so big..."

She shifted beneath him, hips squirming just enough to let her feel the tension in her body -- how ready she was, how the anticipation had built into a kind of ache that made her whole core clench.

"You're gonna use me, aren't you?" she said softly, smiling through her blush. "That's what this is?"

The creature made another sound -- something almost amused, almost reverent. One massive hand moved, slow and deliberate, brushing along the moss beside her, then sliding inward, just barely grazing her thigh.

The creature hovered above her -- a silent storm, all heat and restraint and the hum of something unspoken in the space between their bodies.

His breath warmed her skin. His eyes glowed, fixed on her like he was waiting for her to flinch again, to run, to say stop.

But Sasha didn't flinch.

Not this time.

Her body was still trembling, but it wasn't fear anymore -- not really. It was tension. Desire. Power humming in her fingertips, waiting for her to stop letting this happen to her and start taking it.

So she did.

She reached up, her fingers brushing through the short, dense fur along his jaw, the movement bold, almost reverent. He stilled beneath her touch. His head dipped lower, like he was offering himself.

And she took him.

She grabbed a fistful of fur and pulled his mouth to hers.

Her lips met heat. Roughness. A mouth too big, too wild, too not human -- but perfect. His tongue slid past her lips before he even fully understood what she'd done, and Sasha gasped into it, a sharp, helpless sound that melted into a moan as her body arched beneath him.

The kiss, if she could call it that, was deep, messy, hot -- her mouth opening wider to take more, her other hand gripping the back of his neck, anchoring herself to the force of him. She moved like she needed to show him: This is what I want. You. Here. Now.

His tongue curled against hers again, slower this time, and she felt her whole body pulse with the sensation. Like the kiss was everywhere -- in her fingertips, her chest, between her legs.

She broke for breath just long enough to whisper, voice wrecked and low:

"I want your mouth on me."

The words slipped out of her -- bold and breathless, surprising even herself with how sure she sounded. No hesitation now. No second-guessing. Her body was thrumming, needy, electric -- and she wanted to feel it, all of it.

She sat up slightly beneath him, robe sliding from her shoulders in one clean motion. It fluttered down her arms and pooled at her sides like smoke, leaving her in just the sheer black lingerie -- the strappy bra, the high-cut panties, all of it stretched tight against her flushed skin.

His eyes dropped, and she felt the way he looked at her -- that hot, fixed stare that made her skin tingle, nipples peaking instantly under the mesh. Her body wasn't just reacting to the air anymore. It was reacting to him.

She reached between them and took his jaw again, her fingers curling into thick fur.

"I need it," she said softly. "Now."

He didn't growl. Didn't pounce.

But something in him changed.

That restraint he'd been holding onto started to unravel. His breath came faster, his muscles tightening around her. One massive hand slid down, carefully -- like he was still afraid to overwhelm her -- and settled at her thigh. Just resting there. Heavy. Warm.

Sasha shivered under the weight of it.

"Don't make me beg," she added, trying to keep her voice light, teasing -- but it came out rough, almost shaky. Because truthfully? She would beg, if it came to that.

But she didn't have to.

Because he moved.

Lower.

Slower.

Sasha didn't wait.

She grabbed the waistband of her panties and slid them down in one single pull, letting them drop to her ankles before kicking them off like they were holding her back.

She looked down at the werewolf crouched in front of her and curled her finger at him like she was calling a dog to heel.

"Down," she said, voice thick with heat. "Face between my legs. Let's go."

He growled low--not in defiance, but like it turned him on to be told. But he still didn't move fast enough.

So she grabbed a fistful of fur, yanked his head in tight, and ground her pussy against his mouth like she owned it.

"That's right," she breathed, already panting. "Open wide, puppy. You've got work to do."

The second his tongue hit her, she moaned--deep, head thrown back, thighs already clamping tight around his jaw.

"Fuck, yes," she gasped. "That's it. Get in there."

He groaned against her, and the vibration sent a jolt straight up her spine. She grabbed more fur, grinding harder, not giving him a second to think.

His tongue licked deep, slow, and greedy--and Sasha just laughed, wild and breathless.

"You're fucking sloppy, baby. I love it. You wanna drown in this pussy? Is that it?"

He growled again, louder this time, licking harder.

She was unraveling--fast--but still totally in control. One hand dragged up to cup her breast, fingers pinching her nipple through the sheer mesh while her other hand stayed locked in his fur.

"I want it messy," she moaned. "I want your face covered in me. I wanna ruin that pretty fucking snout of yours."

Her hips were rolling now, chasing every flick of his tongue like it was oxygen.

"God, you're good," she gasped. "So fucking good. I swear, if I don't come in the next sixty seconds, I'm flipping you over and riding that face until I forget my own name."

That got a snarl out of him--and his tongue went harder, faster, curling inside her like it was made to do nothing else.

Her whole body locked up, thighs shaking, fingers tangled tight in his fur.

"Ohhh fuck," she cried out, back arching. "Right there, right there, right--fuck me--yes--"

The orgasm ripped through her like a wave--messy, loud, perfect. She clenched around nothing, moaning open-mouthed, fully wrecked and loving every second of it.

And still, his mouth didn't stop.

He kept licking her through the aftershocks, slow now, almost tender. Like he was proud of himself. Like he could go all night.

Sasha laughed, dazed, eyes fluttering open as she looked down at the glistening, furred face still nestled between her legs.

"Jesus," she whispered, dragging her fingers through his hair. "You just tongue-fucked me like it was your job."

She grinned, still breathless. "And honestly? You deserve a raise."

Sasha was still catching her breath, thighs trembling, her whole body pulsing with that warm, twitchy afterglow--but her pussy?

Still throbbing.

Still soaked.

Still needy as hell.

She looked down at him--his face glistening, lips parted, tongue just barely peeking past sharp teeth.

And she smirked.

"Oh, baby," she purred, voice low and lazy. "You thought we were done?"

He growled softly, but didn't move.

So she grabbed the back of his head again, dragging him right back between her legs like he belonged there.

"Uh-uh," she whispered. "I'm not even close. That was cute. Eat me."

He moaned against her, his breath hot and damp across her folds, and she shivered--instantly sensitive, already twitching before he even touched her.

"You made this mess," she breathed, arching her hips up. "Now clean it up."

His tongue slid back in--and holy fuck, it was worse.

Worse in the best way. Sloppier. Needier. Like he wasn't just licking her--he was devouring her.

"God," she gasped, back already arching. "You're fucking filthy."

He licked deep, then dragged his tongue all the way up her slit, circling her clit slow like he was teasing her on purpose.

Sasha groaned.

"Oh, you're playing games now? Cute. Let's see how long you last when I'm grinding all over that face."

She locked her thighs around his ears and rode.

Not gently. Not shy.

She fucked his face.

"Yeah, that's it," she moaned, head tipping back. "God, you love this pussy, don't you? You'd live down there if I let you. Just eat and growl and tongue-fuck me all day."

He licked deeper. Harder.

"Oh my god," she gasped. "Yes--yes--keep that up. Don't stop. Don't even fucking think about stopping."

Her hand slid down her chest, gripping one of her tits through the soaked mesh bra, squeezing it like she needed more, more, more.

"You hear that?" she panted. "That's me dripping down your chin. That's me using your mouth like a fucking toy."

He let out a deep, desperate rumble against her clit and her whole body jerked.

"Fuck, you're so good," she moaned. "So fucking good. You want me to cum again, huh? Wanna feel me soaking your tongue?"

His tongue moved faster--lapping, flicking, curling in just the right way--and her body started shaking.

"I'm close," she gasped, clawing at the moss under her. "I'm fucking close, baby, don't you dare stop--don't you--ahhh fuck!"

She came again--sharp, fast, soaking.

It hit her like a shock, thighs locking, hips grinding down hard as her pussy clenched and pulsed around his tongue.

He didn't stop.

Just kept licking through it like she was a damn dessert.

Sasha let out a helpless, high, breathless laugh.

She lay there--soaked, gasping, legs trembling--but still smiling.

Then, slowly, her grin twisted into something darker. Something hungrier.

"Fuck," she whispered, running a hand over her face, still catching her breath. "I can't. I literally can't."

She shoved his head back--gently, but firm enough to say move.

He rumbled in protest, tongue still flicking at her like he didn't want to stop, but she wasn't asking. She pushed, then rolled to her knees and crawled toward him like a woman possessed.

"No, no, no," she muttered under her breath, eyes wild. "You don't get to wreck me twice and not show me what you're packing."

He leaned back slightly, watching her with those glowing eyes, chest heaving, body slick with sweat and heat and pure feral control.

And she wanted it--wanted to see what he'd been hiding this whole time.

She crawled up between his legs, palms flat against his thighs, breath still shaky as she searched. "Okay, where the fuck is it? I know you've got it."

But there was nothing there.

No cock. No knot. Just thick fur, warm muscle, and the confusing absence of the monster dick she'd absolutely expected to find.

"What the hell--" she whispered, eyes narrowing as she leaned in closer.

And then she saw it.

Just beneath the soft curve of his lower abdomen, nestled deep in fur and heat--the sheath.

Still flat.

Still closed.

Still untouched.

"Oh my god," she breathed, stunned. "You're not even out yet?"

She looked up at him, brows raised, mouth open like she couldn't believe it. "I've been riding your face like a girl on a mission and you're just... chilling?"

He growled softly--low, guttural, amused.

"Oh, fuck that," Sasha growled right back, one hand sliding up his thigh as her fingers moved toward the sheath. "Let's change that real quick."

She pressed her palm flat against his inner thigh, eyes locked on the sheath like it was about to spill some long-held secret.

"Oh, you were really just hiding this from me, huh?" she murmured, fingers brushing the soft fur around it, slow and teasing. "Just sitting there while I moaned all over your face like a good little slut?"

Her nails grazed the rim of the sheath--light, playful--and she felt him twitch.

"Mmm," she purred, biting her bottom lip. "There you are."

She leaned in, mouth close, breath ghosting over the warm skin.

Then--she licked.

Right at the edge of the sheath, in one slow, circular motion. Her tongue flicked gently, swirling around the entrance like she was tracing a spell, coaxing him out like she owned the secret code.

"Oh, fuck yeah," she whispered, feeling him pulse again. "That woke you up."

She licked again--slower this time--deliberate, dirty, like she was savoring it.

His whole body tensed, that deep growl vibrating in his chest now. His thighs shifted under her hands. The sheath twitched again, heat surging under the surface.

Sasha smiled.

"Oh, you feel that, don't you?" she teased, her voice soft but smug. "You're getting hard from a few little licks? Baby, you're so easy."

She flattened her tongue and dragged it up the along the sheath, pressing just enough to feel the heat swelling under the skin.

And then--it moved.

She gasped, eyes wide, as the tip finally began to emerge--thick, flushed, and already wet.

"Holy shit," she whispered, grinning like she'd just discovered buried treasure. "There he is."

She wrapped her hand around the base of the sheath, licking again just above where the head started to slide free, and felt him throb in her palm.

"That's it, big boy," she breathed. "Give it to me. Show me how bad you wanna fuck this mouth."

The cock kept growing--inches pushing free, thicker than she'd even imagined, the knot still hidden but swelling beneath the surface like a loaded gun.

Sasha licked her lips.

Sasha licked her lips, still kneeling between his legs, staring at the length now fully revealed from its sheath--thick, flushed dark, and twitching with heat like it had a heartbeat of its own.

"Goddamn," she whispered, eyes wide. "You were really holding out on me."

The sheer size of him made her thighs clench.

Her hand wrapped slowly around the base--not even fully closing--and she gave it one firm stroke, just enough to feel it twitch in her grip.

"Mm," she smirked. "You like that? Yeah, you do. So hard already and I haven't even started."

She leaned in and dragged her tongue up the underside--slow, deliberate, tasting the mix of salt and heat that clung to his skin. The sound he made was low, primal--half-growl, half-groan--and it vibrated through her spine like thunder.

"Sensitive, huh?" she murmured, breath brushing his tip. "Then you're gonna fucking lose it when I do this."

She took him into her mouth--just the tip at first--lips wrapped around him, tongue swirling gently as she held his gaze with wide, greedy eyes.

Her hand worked the rest of his shaft in slow, steady strokes. She sucked, then pulled back with a soft pop, only to dive back in deeper, moaning softly like she was tasting heaven and sin at the same time.

He let out a snarl, claws digging into the moss, hips twitching like his body was fighting the urge to thrust.

Sasha grinned around him.

"Ohhh," she hummed, pulling off for a second, a string of slick spit still connecting her lips to his tip. "You wanna fuck my face so bad, don't you?"

He growled.

She licked again--sloppier now--spit dribbling down her chin, throat already working deeper as she slid further down on him, lips stretched wide.

Gluck. Gluck.

Her hands gripped his thighs. Her mouth moved faster, wetter, louder--moaning low and messy as she started to lose herself in it. She could feel every twitch, every pulse. Her eyes rolled back slightly as he filled her throat inch by inch.

She gagged once--just enough to make her eyes water--but didn't stop. She wanted the stretch, the heat, the raw ache of taking all of him.

When she pulled back again, her chin was soaked, cheeks flushed.

"You're fucking huge," she panted, jerking him with both hands now. "And I want every drop."

His breath was ragged now. His body stiffening.

She dove again--deeper--gripping the base, twisting her wrist as she sucked, lips locked tight. Her throat worked around him, and his growl turned into something broken--low, sharp, desperate.

And then--he came.

Not in soft pulses.

Explosive.

Hot jets filled her mouth, thick and fast. She choked slightly, swallowed once, twice, moaned as the rest spilled over her lips.

She didn't stop. Just stayed there--mouth still sealed around him, tongue swirling, coaxing every last drop like it was hers.

When she finally pulled off, a string of cum stretched from her tongue to his tip.

Sasha wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, laughing breathlessly.

"Holy fuck," she grinned, voice rough. "You really just emptied all that in my mouth? I didn't even say please."

Sasha stayed crouched between his thighs, breath ragged, lips slick, her eyes still lit up with that greedy little smirk.

She ran her tongue slowly over her bottom lip, catching the last trace of him, and let out a satisfied sigh like she'd just finished dessert.

But she wasn't done.

Not even close.

"Mmm," she hummed, fingers trailing lazily along the inside of his thigh. "Bet you're still full, huh? That was a lot for round one."

Her hand drifted lower, just beneath the base of his length, until her fingers brushed against the heavy weight of him--warm, tight, still pulsing faintly from release.

She gave them a soft squeeze.

"Damn," she whispered, almost admiring. "You're still heavy. Still hot. Still got more for me, don't you?"

He let out a low sound--more growl than answer--but the way his hips shifted, the way his breath caught... that told her everything.

She massaged gently, just enough to tease, watching his whole body twitch under her hands.

Sasha giggled, licking a slow stripe up his length again, whispering between kisses, "You're not done. I can feel it."

She wrapped her lips around him once more--slower this time. More deliberate. Less of a race and more of a ritual.

And as she moved--tongue working, hands teasing--he started to thicken again.

Her smile widened against his skin.

"Oh yeah," she whispered, pulling back just enough to speak. "We're doing this again."

She didn't wait for his answer.

Didn't need one.

The way his cock twitched under her tongue--how his legs tensed and that deep, ragged sound rumbled in his chest again--was more than enough.

Sasha dipped lower, her lips sealing back around him, slower this time. More intention. Her tongue traced the underside, savoring every inch as he stiffened again in her mouth.

"Mmm," she moaned softly, the sound vibrating down his length as she bobbed her head--lazy at first, sensual, letting her lips stretch just wide enough to kiss the edge of discomfort.

Her hands stayed busy--one stroking what she couldn't fit, the other still cupping beneath, fingers gentle but relentless. She worked him like she meant it. Like she was making up for all the minutes he'd spent buried in her.

He let out a broken sound this time. Deeper. Rougher.

She pulled back with a soft pop, spit glistening on her chin. "Yeah," she whispered, eyes wild and hungry. "You like that sloppy, don't you?"

She spat into her hand, messy and hot, then stroked him with a twist of her wrist, pumping slow and deep like she was setting a rhythm.

"Let's see how ready you really are."

She leaned back in and took him again--deeper this time.

Glk--glk--glk.

Each bob came with a noise, shameless and wet, echoing through the forest like the only soundtrack they needed. She didn't gag this time--she owned it, taking him until her nose nearly touched fur, then pulling back to swirl her tongue right under the head.

The tension started building again. In his breath. In his grip. In the way his thighs jerked under her hold.

He was close.

Sasha smirked around him and didn't slow down--if anything, she pushed harder, faster. Determined.

Because this time?

She wanted to drain him.

She could feel it--that edge creeping up fast.

His thighs were trembling now, the kind of shake that said he was holding on by a thread. His claws dug into the moss again, tearing up clumps like it was the only thing grounding him.

Sasha didn't let up.

She kept the rhythm brutal and perfect--suction tight, strokes smooth, her spit glistening down his shaft as her mouth worked him with messy, determined precision. Every noise, every growl he made, just turned her on more.

She moaned again around him, soft and filthy, throat fluttering as she took him deep--then pulled back, lips glossy, eyes wild.

"C'mon," she whispered, hand stroking fast, her other squeezing tight below. "I want you to lose it. I want it everywhere."

He snarled, body jerking once.

Sasha grinned and opened her mouth, tongue out, stroking him even faster now--fist slick, twisting hard, daring him.

"Don't hold back. Use my mouth."

And he did.

The second wave hit like lightning--hot, wild, relentless.

He let out a sound between a growl and a howl, hips thrusting once as ropes of thick heat spilled across her tongue, her chin, her chest. She gasped, eyes fluttering, laughing breathlessly as it coated her skin--sticky and hot, exactly what she'd begged for.

"Fuck yes," she groaned, smearing some of it across her breasts with a swipe of her palm. "You're disgusting. I love it."

She stayed there, still stroking him through it, letting the last spurts drip over her knuckles, her body flushed and glistening in the silver light.

Sasha stayed straddled over his legs for a moment, catching her breath, chest still rising and falling, skin glowing in the silver light. Her thighs were slick, her lips parted, and her eyes--those sharp, stormy eyes--never left his.

Sasha was still riding that high--sweaty, wrecked, and pulsing with aftershocks--but she wasn't done. Not even close.

She pushed herself up, legs a little shaky, and straddled his waist without a word. One knee, then the other, settling her bare thighs against the heat of his stomach. Her hands braced on his chest as she caught her breath, heart still hammering in her ears.

He was so warm. Solid. Big in every way. And she wanted all of it.

Her hips shifted, grinding down slightly, and there it was--his cock, thick and hot and pressed right up against her pussy, slick from everything they'd already done. Not inside yet. Just resting there. And god, that alone made her twitch.

"Shit," she muttered, glancing down between them. "You're seriously not even in yet?"

He growled softly, low and expectant.

Sasha smirked. "Yeah, okay. Let's see what you're working with."

She reached down and wrapped her fingers around him--warm, heavy, pulsing in her hand. It throbbed when she lined it up with her entrance, and she bit her lip, already feeling her body clench like it was bracing itself.

Then, slowly, she started to lower herself.

Just the tip at first.

Then more.

Inch by inch, her body opened up around him. The stretch was real--deep and intense. Her breath caught in her throat, and she had to stop halfway to adjust, one hand tightening on his chest for balance.

"Fuck me," she whispered, half laughing, half gasping. "You're--shit--you're big."

She rocked her hips gently, taking more, easing down until she finally--finally--had him fully inside. Her ass rested against his hips, her thighs trembling from the pressure.

She just sat there for a second, full to the brim, breath shaky, eyes glazed.

Then she smiled down at him, flushed and smug.

"There," she said, voice low and wrecked. "Now we're really getting started."

Sasha rocked her hips harder, biting her lip as the thick stretch of him hit that perfect spot again--and again. Her body jolted with every thrust, but she held her ground, palms flat on his chest, eyes locked onto his.

"You like this?" she hissed through a breathy laugh. "You like watching me take it like this--so deep I can barely talk?"

His growl rumbled through her, vibrating up her spine.

She leaned in, lips brushing just above his snarling mouth.

"You've been holding out this whole time, acting like you're in charge. But look at you now," she taunted, voice low and hot. "Letting me ride you like I own every inch."

She rolled her hips slow, grinding just enough to make him twitch.

"Yeah, that's right. I feel how bad you need this."

Her hand slid down between them, fingers brushing where their bodies met--slick, soaked, raw with heat.

"I'm so wet for you," she whispered, moaning softly. "You feel that? I'm dripping, and you're just lying there letting me milk every fucking inch."

Another hard thrust from him made her gasp, her rhythm faltering for half a second. Her eyes fluttered, lips parting.

"Ohh--yeah, that's it," she breathed. "You wanna be used, don't you? Just lay there while I grind this pussy all over you."

She dragged her nails down his chest again, not hard--just enough to mark, to remind.

"You're lucky I haven't made you beg yet," she muttered, hips slamming down hard now, fast and relentless. "But don't worry. You're getting close."

Sasha slowed her hips just enough to tease, grinding down into him with a steady rhythm that kept both of them right at the edge. She leaned forward, hair falling around her face, sweat-slicked skin glowing under the silver wash of moonlight.

She reached for his jaw with one hand, fingers threading through the thick fur.

"Open," she breathed, voice low and smug. "Yeah. Just like that."

He didn't hesitate--his mouth opened, tongue flicking out instinctively, still slick from everything he'd already done to her.

She shifted forward, pressing one breast against his face, the mesh of her bra damp and barely there. His tongue traced over the fabric, warm and wet.

Sasha groaned.

"That's right," she murmured, her tone a blend of heat and command. "Lick 'em. I know you want to."

She pulled one strap off her shoulder, then the other, letting the bra fall loose. Her nipple brushed his tongue, and she gasped softly, her thighs clenching around his hips.

"God, that tongue..." she whispered. "You could make me come just from this."

He lapped at her breast again, slower now--intentional. His tongue circled her nipple, drawing it into his mouth, and she arched toward him, her breath catching as he suckled gently.

"Mmm, fuck--yes."

Her fingers tightened in his fur.

"You feel that? That's how you worship me."

She shifted to offer the other breast, dragging her nipple across his lips with a teasing grind of her hips.

"Go on. You're not done until we both are soaked."

She felt his hands slide lower, palms dragging down her thighs--slow and firm--until they were gripping just beneath her curves. He moved with a kind of restraint that only made the tension worse, more electric. And then--

His thumbs slid inward, spreading her cheeks open with deliberate pressure.

Sasha gasped, her whole body tightening.

"Ohhh, shit..." she breathed, back arching instinctively. "You just wanna see everything, don't you?"

His hands were big enough to hold her steady, to control the rhythm without even moving. She felt the way he gripped her--possessive, unrelenting--and it lit her up from the inside.

"I hope you're getting a good look," she moaned, voice low and breathless. "'Cause this? This is all yours right now."

She could feel the air hit sensitive skin--cool, teasing--and she shivered, grinding her hips back into his hands with a slow, sinful roll.

"Hold me open like that," she whispered. "Don't let go."

Sasha's breath hitched hard as she dug her nails into his chest, thighs flexing as she rocked her hips fast and deep. Every movement sent a jolt of heat through her core, and her body couldn't stay quiet anymore.

"Ah--fuck," she cried out, head thrown back. "Oh my god--yes!"

Her moans came in waves--high and sharp at first, then guttural, broken, pulled straight from somewhere deep inside her.

"Unnh--ahhh--yes, yes--fuck, just like that!"

The rhythm was messy, desperate--no control, just pure need. Skin slapping against skin, her breath hitching between each sharp cry.

She couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop.

The sounds filled the air--gasps, whimpers, growls of effort from him beneath her as he met every grind with just enough force to drive her higher.

She was soaked, trembling, her voice breaking into half-laughs, half-moan-pleas.

"*I can't--I'm gonna--ohhh fuck me--yes!"

Each cry blurred into the next, raw and shameless.

Sasha clutched him tighter, like the only thing keeping her grounded was the feel of his body, the thick weight of him inside her, the way she could scream and ride and take exactly what she wanted.

Sasha was a storm now--wild, relentless, untamed. Every roll of her hips struck deep, her body moving with a rhythm that was instinct, hunger, and defiance all rolled into one. Her breath came in fast, shallow bursts, chest rising and falling as sweat clung to her skin, catching the silver-blue gleam of moonlight filtering through the trees.

His claws gripped her thighs--not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind her exactly who she was riding. Power coiled beneath her, heat radiating off him in waves, and still she moved, chasing every spark, every tremor, every noise he dragged out of her.

"Don't stop," she rasped, voice raw. "Stay right there--don't you dare move."

Her fingers dug into his chest as she leaned over him, letting her body press down so her lips were at his ear.

"You feel that?" she whispered, a soft, trembling growl. "That's me cumming all over you."

She rode faster--hips slamming, thighs clenching--every inch of her chasing something bright and breaking. Her voice spilled out in ragged gasps, high-pitched moans laced with disbelief and thrill.

"Oh my god--yes--just like that--don't stop, don't stop--"

She was close--so close--her whole body pulsing, her breath catching on the edge of something deep and electric.

She was shaking.

Not from exhaustion--though every muscle in her body felt strung-out and buzzing--but from the need still crawling under her skin. Her fingers curled in his fur, clinging to him like a lifeline as her hips rolled again, slower now, deeper, but just as desperate.

"Please," she whispered, voice hoarse, mouth against his throat. "Do it. Bite me."

He growled low--but didn't move.

She whimpered, her breath catching. "I need it," she said, louder now, hips grinding in broken little circles. "Mark me. I want it--I want to feel it."

Still nothing. He was holding back.

"God, please," she begged, fingers fisting tighter. "I'm so close--bite me and cum in me, please, I want all of you--I need it."

That broke him.

His hands clamped down on her hips, claws grazing skin. And then he surged up--fangs bared, breath hot--and sank his teeth into the curve of her neck.

She screamed.

The pain bloomed sharp and bright--but it was perfect. Her whole body convulsed, pussy tightening hard around him, milking his cock like she was dragging the orgasm out of him.

And he gave it.

With a guttural snarl, he bucked into her--deep, final, claiming--and she felt the rush of it. Heat. Pressure. The wild pulse of him emptying deep inside her, twitch after twitch of thick, pulsing release.

Sasha's head fell back, mouth open in a soundless gasp as she came again--just from the feeling of being filled. It was too much, too deep, too good. Her body clamped down around him, her thighs trembling, nails raking across his chest as her voice broke into gasping moans.

He held her there.

Still biting.

Still buried to the hilt.

Every pulse of him inside her sent another shiver through her limbs, every second of stillness stretching like velvet over something wild and undone.

And when he finally loosened his jaw, licked the bite once--soft, reverent--Sasha collapsed against him, chest heaving, legs trembling.

"I meant it," she whispered, eyes half-lidded, dazed. "I wanted that. Every second. Every drop."

His arm wrapped around her back, pulling her in tighter.

Not done.

Not yet.

Sasha stirred, trying to lift herself off him--her thighs aching, body drenched in sweat and slick--but the moment she shifted her hips, she froze.

Something resisted.

She blinked, breath catching.

She tried again--slow, careful--but no, it wasn't just soreness. It wasn't just oversensitivity.

He was still inside her.

And he wasn't just inside.

Her eyes went wide. "Wait--what the--?"

She gasped as she felt it.

Thick. Swollen. Locked.

Knotted.

"Oh my god," she whispered, hands bracing on his chest as her whole body shivered. "This is what Naomi meant."

The base of his cock had swollen inside her, firm and pulsing, snug in a way that felt dangerously deep--like she was being held open from the inside. There was no pulling off. No slipping free. She was tied.

"Holy fuck," she breathed, hips twitching as the pressure pulsed low and heavy inside her.

She could feel every throb. Every slow, primal pulse of him still filling her, sealing her. It wasn't painful--but it was full. So full it made her whimper.

She looked down, dazed. "You're... you're still getting bigger."

His hands moved to her hips, steadying her as her thighs trembled. He wasn't moving, just breathing hard, letting the knot do its work.

Sasha let out a half-laugh, half-moan. "I thought I was done," she whispered, "but you just locked me down."

She could feel it all--the slow stretch, the way her body molded to fit around him, the deep ache building again as the fullness triggered another wave of heat through her belly.

"I can't even move," she panted. "You really weren't done with me, huh?"

She bit her lip, eyes fluttering as the pressure turned into something else--something pulsing, warm, throbbing in rhythm with her own heartbeat.

"Fuck," she whispered, voice hitching as her walls clenched around the knot, helpless to stop it. "This is insane."

And yet--her hips rocked once, involuntarily. And the moan that spilled from her lips said everything:

She loved it.

Sasha was trembling--hips locked in place, breath catching on every slow throb of pressure inside her. The knot had her sealed tight, full in a way that made her whole body ache and pulse, stretched beyond reason.

But somehow... she didn't want to escape it.

She looked down at him--at the creature who'd just claimed her in every possible way--and something shifted in her chest. Not fear. Not even shock.

Just... heat. Connection. A wild, consuming bond that wrapped around her ribs like a second heartbeat.

She leaned down.

He growled low in his throat--questioning, maybe even warning--but she ignored it.

"Shh," she murmured, brushing her nose against his. "You don't scare me. Not now."

And then--she kissed him.

Not desperate. Not rough.

Just hungry.

Her lips moved against his with slow reverence, tongue flicking past his teeth, tasting the wildness still humming in his mouth. He was hot, sharp, breathing hard--but he didn't pull away. He let her take him, let her explore the shape of his mouth like she owned it.

His hands gripped her tighter, claws curling against her skin, but his mouth was soft--responsive. The growl in his chest melted into a rumble as he kissed her back, slower, deeper, their tongues tangling as the tension between them coiled and softened, coiled and burned.

She moaned into him, hips twitching again, every motion reminding her that she was still locked onto him. That she wasn't going anywhere. That her pussy was clenching around him like her body never wanted to let go.

And neither did he.

The kiss deepened, grew sloppier--her fingers threading through his fur, his hands dragging down her spine. Their mouths moved like they were starved for each other. Like they needed this to stay real.

Sasha broke the kiss only to whisper against his lips, voice low and shaking:

"You're still inside me. Still so fucking deep..."

Another pulse.

She shuddered.

Then kissed him again--harder this time--because she was still so full, and he was still so hard, and even with the knot stretching her open, her body was begging for more.

Sasha's body finally gave in. Her thighs trembled, her breath slowed, and her eyes fluttered shut as the last tremor rolled through her. She was full--completely, impossibly full--and every nerve felt dulled by pleasure, her skin humming with aftershocks.

The knot was still inside her, holding her in place, a slow pulse syncing with the thud of her heart. She was stretched wide, slick with sweat and cum and heat, her body limp against his.

She sighed softly, a blissed-out smile tugging at her lips as she curled into him. His arms, massive and warm, wrapped around her protectively, one large clawed hand resting against her lower back like a weight that tethered her to the earth.

"Mmm," she murmured, eyes barely open. "Yeah... that'll do it."

He nuzzled her neck gently, breath slow and steady. She was still tied to him, still warm from the inside out.

And with her holes stuffed, her body boneless and satisfied, Sasha let the exhaustion take her.

She drifted.

...

She woke up in a different kind of silence.

The air was cool, still. The scent of pine and musk was gone, replaced by something faintly antiseptic. Her eyes fluttered open, squinting against soft overhead lighting.

She wasn't in the forest.

She wasn't even outside.

She was back in the Qwinki suite.

The pod chair reclined beneath her, still warm, still holding the shape of her body. The sensory nodes were gone. Her robe had been pulled gently around her again, tied at the waist.

Her heart thudded as she sat up slowly, blinking.

Had she dreamed it?

No--her body said otherwise. Her thighs ached. Her lips were swollen. Her skin still tingled where his hands had held her down.

The experience hadn't faded like a dream. It clung to her like sweat.

Sasha breathed out a low, dazed laugh.

"Holy shit."

On the small table beside her, a glass of water waited. A fresh towel. Her phone.

Sasha just stared at the card for a moment, then picked up the water and drank like she hadn't touched liquid in hours. The coolness hit her throat, anchoring her, steadying her. Her robe clung damply to her skin--sweat, maybe, or leftover heat from the fantasy. But she didn't move yet.

She sat there for a long time, legs curled under her, robe wrapped tight, heart still trying to make sense of what she'd just lived through.

Eventually, she slipped off the pod and made her way to the door. It opened automatically, just like before.

Ryen, the integration tech, stood in the hallway with the same calm expression, tablet tucked against their chest.

"All set?" they asked.

Sasha nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think so."

Their smile held something knowing. "Take it easy tonight. Hydrate. Breathe."

"I'll try," she said, voice soft but honest.

In the lobby, the same man sat behind the desk. This time, he glanced up. Their eyes met briefly--and for once, he said nothing.

Outside, the night air kissed her skin. It was late. Quiet. The kind of silence that didn't feel empty, but full.

She slipped into her hoodie, slid behind the wheel of her car, and just sat there for a moment. No music. No notifications. Just her hands on the steering wheel, heart still beating in that strange, heavy rhythm.

She opened her phone.

Naomi:

???? WELL???

Sasha stared at the blinking cursor, then finally typed:

Sasha:

You need to come over.

Naomi:

That good?

Sasha:

It changed something.

Naomi:

On my way.

She hit send, then locked her phone and leaned back against the seat.

In the rearview mirror, she caught her own eyes. They looked different. Brighter, maybe. Or just... real.

What had happened in that forest hadn't been love. Not really. But it had been something close. Something raw. It hadn't just been sex--it had been her, mirrored back at her, touched in places no one else ever had, not even herself.

It had reminded her she could want without shame. Need without apology.

It had reminded her she was still alive.

She smiled, then started the car.

The drive home was a blur--streetlights streaking past like soft neon ghosts, the hum of the tires on asphalt grounding her just enough to keep her from floating away. Sasha didn't put on music. She didn't call anyone. She let the silence stretch, let the echoes of the forest and the heat of his breath replay quietly in the corners of her mind.

When she pulled into the parking lot, Naomi was already waiting, perched on the edge of the curb in an oversized hoodie and biker shorts, holding two cans of something sparkling and alcoholic like it was a peace offering.

"You look like you fucked a thunderstorm," Naomi said the second Sasha stepped out of the car.

Sasha blinked at her. Then laughed. Not the polite kind. The kind that cracked something open and let the tension drain out of her body all at once.

"Get inside," Sasha said, still smiling. "I have stories."

They dropped onto the couch together the second the door shut behind them. Naomi cracked open both drinks and handed her one.

"So," Naomi said, legs curled up under her. "Was it sexy? Was it weird? Did you cry? Did you see God?"

Sasha took a long sip. Then leaned back, exhaling slowly.

"It was everything," she said finally. "It was soft. And dark. And overwhelming. I begged. I screamed. I came like... I didn't know I could. And afterward, I didn't feel empty. I felt held."

Naomi stared at her, wide-eyed.

"Jesus."

Sasha grinned. "Yeah."

They sat in silence for a moment, the quiet kind that only happens between people who've known each other long enough to understand the weight of what isn't said.

Naomi nudged her shoulder. "You gonna do it again?"

Sasha looked down at her drink. Then out the window. The moon was still up, big and silver and perfect.

"Maybe," she said softly. "But not tonight. Tonight I'm just... being."

Naomi leaned her head against her shoulder. "You've got that look."

"What look?"

"Like someone who just figured out they're allowed to take up space."

Sasha smiled again--tired, a little dazed, but grounded now.

"I didn't think it would feel like that," she said. "I thought it would just be sex. A one-time thing. But it made me... feel. Not just hot. Not just wanted. Like--known."

Naomi squeezed her arm. "Then it worked."

They clinked cans, and the night hummed around them--quiet, full, and still glowing with moonlight.

For the first time in a long time, Sasha didn't feel like she was waiting for life to start.

She was already in it.

And damn, it felt good.