A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Bad Habits

July 24, 2014
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Some habits are hard to break.

I mean, really hard to not do.

If you’re a werewolf, you’re bound to have more than a few habits. Enough to form a routine.

It’s how we’re raised to live in this world as both ourself and the beast within us.

Routine is a form of control. Habits form routines and we learn from them what works, and does not.

Those Hollywood movies and tv shows about pouty, pretty, people may fool you humans. Sure we look as human and normal as you do, but we’re only part human, the part is wolf. Ancient wolf. Werewolf.

And we’re you’re a werewolf there are some things, that despite each generation born, can’t or more correctly won’t be suppressed.
Those instincts that drive animals, to their own habitual needs.

Those parts of our dna that just don’t go away.

The werewolf within our skin, is instinctual and burns to come out.
So its not surprising to read that that on the island of Sibale Island, in the Philippines, werewolves, are once again being hunted.

Whilst I’m not from the Philippines, I am a werewolf and any werewolf will understand the struggle that exists within them.

Especially if they’ve never really been taught how to deal with the werewolf aspects, the restless-ness that creeps forever under the surface of our skin.

A need for freedom to roam and explore. A wanting hunger that takes a lot of food, more than we’re supposed to be seen eating as humans, to settle.

And animals. We have issues with them. And animals have issues with us. Not all, but some. It can get….weird.

So perhaps it’s not surprising that cattle becomes seen as fair game. When you have an animal inside you and it see’s animals who are controlled by others, and therefore, kept in a state of servitude.

They begin to look like a weaker species, like prey.

Werewolves are dominant for the most part, by nature, even Beta wolves can be dominant amongst another animals (but when you put them up against an alpha werewolf, nuh-uh.)

Or maybe it’s just a case of the police and villagers in Sibale Island, Romblon, knowing about the world, the one that includes the werewolves in the first world.

Our race is hard to kill (probably why we haven’t died off just yet).

The police seem to have figured out the pattern for attacks, takes place in our around the full moon. Let’s face it, that is somewhat of a big ass give-away. You’d think if it was werewolves, they’d be smarter than to act up around moon time.

But control isn’t an anything to come by when you’re trying to be two things at once.

That’s what being a werewolf is like really.

You’re one thing and you’re another and the thing is, they’re one and the same, bound up in your blood, coursing through the fibre that makes up someone called you. But you’re bound to other elements in this world, that reach deep into your soul.

The full moon hums into your soul and vibrates along tendons, stretching fibre and facia, to surge the werewolf out. And again, we circle back to control. Even in our tribal form, we need to know how to be ourselves.

We may learn to control our werewolf instincts when we’re looking as human as the person next to you.

We may learn control when we’re in our tribal form. But we can not control the moon itself and what it does to us. Any of us. Lunar week and it does bring out the “loonies” amongst us, just check your police stats, watch them rise anytime there’s a full moon.

This world, we just live in it. Not control it as much as we might fool ourselves to think otherwise.

Nature has her habits too and all of us are subject to them, wether werewolf or human, wether we like them or not.

New Moon Rising

January 20, 2011
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“Oh She don’t mind, she got the time, I see the new moon rising.” – New Moon Rising, Wolfmother.

First lunar week of the new year and how times change while things stay the same. I don’t want to be spending it over in Manhattan Maen territory, but I do want to be with my packmate, Paris, the Manhattan Maen werewolf pack leader.

Complications of being a beta werewolf and dating an Alpha werewolf. Complications of my love life. It’s never quite dull. But then, if it was dull you’d just call me me Snooki. And let’s face it, my hair is way better than hers. Werewolf, has perfect hair, that guy in the song, werewoles of London even agrees with that statement.

The moon does its thing for the week and a few days either side of full moon and the werewolves of New York do there’s. It’s how it’s been since as long as I can remember, ever since growing up and going out to the clubs in New York.

It’s a form of control. A way of making sure we’re not ferral werewolves, like there tend to be when there are solar eclipses. Because that’s when shit gets complicated beyond werewolves with feelings of love and jealousy and romance and everything else. That’s when you really want werewolves to exercise their control techniques.

But on a regular full moon night, it’s contained, it’s controlled, and there’s nothing to do with complicated if you know what to expect and how to deal with it. If you leave out all the relationship stuff.

Werewolves in love are a complicated beings.

This skin

October 21, 2010

At the best of times during lunar week, werewolves are driven to fulfil their baser desires and needs.

The driving force behind the lunar tidal waves that shock our bodies again and again, are pheromones. Very powerful ones. So it’s not that surprising, when there are times, where we literally can’t keep our paws off one another, Paris and I.

Although to be honest, I’m the one who is worst out of us. He has more control than I think I can muster and the patience almost of a saint, I think sometimes.

But that can be worn down, if you’ve willing to see it through. And if you’re me, the one he desires, considers his.

After our previous night’s efforts, I decided being dragged out of a warm, happy place full of love, bed, was not on. So I trapped Paris to bed for the entire day. We ordered in for food and other than modest sheets covering us, we remain naked.

My teeth want to mark his beautifully smooth skin, I try to sink my teeth a little into the skin on his upper thigh and he chuckles.

“That kind of tickles.”

So I use my tongue to trace my teeth indentations around the marking. Which just makes him groan impatiently at me.

I sweep little moist kisses along his skin, to the sensitive skin between his thighs. My tongue traces a direct line along the side of him, to the top. I look back down at him, over his body as I sink my mouth around him, slowly devouring.

A loud sigh escapes him as his eyes widen, watching, just my mouth, he’s barely noticing anything else, as it moves over him. Hypnotically it repeats the movement.

The slow, languorous movement, of driving pressure through him, is maddening to both of us. But who wants this to stop so suddenly? Neither of us. Because it’s a benefit to both of us, to what we want.

We’ve both got a sole focus here. Mine is to drive him as insane as possible. His is the same, by watching what I’ll do for him, to him. Visual clues to a destination, that we both want to reach, but are in no hurry to get to.

You see, it’s the pheromones. They make me want to continue in some form or other, to touch his skin. It’s an Erotic ambrosia that the moon fuels our minds and that of the werewolves contained within with.

I could touch with my hands, let them skim over all that hard muscle, touch and flick his nipples. Trace the patterns, outlines of muscle, of shape. Or I could rub the curves of my softer body along his, pressing my breasts into his chest. Rub myself against him, without him being in me. Setting off erogenous zones that require as much attention as the rest of either of us. Straining my nipples onto his smooth skin.

Or I could use my mouth.

Taste him as well as touch him with my teeth and tongue. Of course, when I started down this path, it was about the time I wished I had the ability to do a partial shape shift so I could use my werewolf fangs on him. But alas, this beta wolf can not do that. But knows from experience, how turned on she gets, when the Alpha werewolf under her, does that to her.

So I offer my mouth, willing. A supplication to consume his body tenderly. Devouring him, in a moist heat. Paris’s hips jerk upwards slightly with one movement. But I’m not done yet, I want more.

Pheromone addiction or something. Well it’s not me that wants more, not just me. The wolf, his and mine, they’re so close and yet not connected enough. They need each other, I can sense not only his restraint to let me take him as far as he can with this slow ride of sensuality. But other feelings, near the surface, the scent of fur is becoming heavier to me. Mixing more with the amber and almonds I know that is his scent.

The werewolf is on the rise.

It’s pressing at him, to bring on the shape shift. To let it out to find the wolf it can sense within me. The pull of the moon, high in the sky is coursing through both beings. The sound of blood rushing through our ears, is just a small prelude. As the night wears on, our bodies become hotter. The blood driving through us, feeling more like a liquid heat of essential gratification.

It’s the deciding factor in who will win out here. Will it tip the power of the shape shift to the werewolf, so that Paris feels not just compelled to shape shift, but unable not to? This skin will out. It’s the testing ground for conceding all or holding just the slightest bit of him back.

Have I gone too far in straining his patience for so long? My mouth curves into a smile around him, as I plunge deeper.

When can a werewolf ever go too far?

All Kinds of Trouble (Got that) Pt 2.

September 24, 2010
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Blood, the air is tainted with the crisp scent of it and I lift my nose and inhale. Which of course, for a werewolf on a lunar night, is the wrong thing to do. It’s like tempting an addict or something. It makes my wolf senses want to really kick in to effect. Want me to shape shift to my tribal form so I could tear apart the prey before me that is down and bleeding.

Aaron, once a sweet boy, now a regular bitter asshole who thinks he can talk shit to me because we’d never eventuated when there’d been a chance of dating. Not my fault. But he seems to harbor somewhat of grudge to me.

He’s slightly dazed by the punch I’ve thrown so quickly. His head snapped back like whiplash with the impact from my stellar right hook.

I jump down on top of him, landing above him, on my hands and toes, my shoes pointed sharply into the floor, balancing me precariously, so I don’t actually touch him. But lay, above him, effectively trapping him.

“Do you have any idea, how turned on I am right now?” I mutter in a low, husky voice. Watching Aaron’s eyes widen as they dart across my own face. “Why I’m so turned on?”

His eyes kept staring back at me amazed. I dip my face towards his and inhale the scent of his blood filling my nostrils again. Stronger this time. My stomach gurgles, like it’s hungry. My pulse races, I feel the temples in my head throb, like I’m dizzy with exertion from moving to fast. I dig my fingers into the floor, arching them into a claw like position. Gripping at nothing and feeling them cramp up with the strain I’m putting on them.

“Uh, everyone’s looking at us.” Aaron says in a low voice, sounding once again like the nervous guy of old, I knew.

I glance to the side of us. Of course the crowd are staring at us. Half of them, the werewolf half can smell the blood as good as if they are where I am. The other half, the nons, are looking at us because I look like a woman, primed to fuck the brains out of the gun underneath me.

“No, they’re looking at you Aaron.” I reply, still holding my position above him. Resisting the urge to lick the blood smeared on his face. “They’re looking at you because you’re bleeding and they’re hungry.”
His eyes slide to the right of us again, looking at the crowd there, before looking back at me.

“You’re making them, hungry and horny. Bleeding so invitingly in the open for them.”

“You hit me!” He whines in a hushed whisper. I can hear the approaching footsteps of three people and know one of them isParis, coming towards me.

“You had it coming.”

A pair of shoes stop beside me and I recognize Paris’s shoes immediately. He squats down beside us. Looking from Aaron to me.

“What do we have here?”

“A bleeding non.” I reply simply as my arms start to twitch a little with the strain of holding myself off him so cautiously.

Paris looks at me. “And what do you want to do to him?” He asks me playfully. Werewolves, we’re just like any other animal, that wants to play with their food.

My mouth drops open and I look at Paris as my arms shake harder. “I want to lick that blood off him, maybe tear him apart a little, so my teeth can sink into soft flesh. Feel the blood flow up to my gums.”

Werewolf Speak, it’s not about conceding desire, it’s allowing yourself to be honest about it. Paris appears to think about this for a moment and looks back at Aaron, still laying on his back, trapped underneath me. His eyes wide, his expression one of puzzlement.

“You can lick the blood of him, but that’s it.”

I tilt my head back to look at Aaron like he’s an appetizer. Goody.

“Do you understand me?” Paris asks me, somewhat patiently.


“Good.” Paris stands up.

“What?” Aaron looks back at me, not understanding at thing that is going on. Except that maybe, he might be in a bad situation, I can litterally feel the sense of fear in him.

I lower my body onto his. My breasts crushing into his chest, my hips against his, separated by a couple of layers of clothing. Sex and Blood, a werewolf favorite thing in life. Specially on a lunar night. It’s like tenfold. Better and better than anything you’d think of.

“What’s a matter Aaron, don’t you want me?” I ask as his hands automatically reached for my ass, gripping my skirt. I can feel him getting harder underneath me. His eyes dart about me quickly. A Feeling like white noise is filling my head, I can feel the sweat dripping down the back of my shoulder blades.

My wolf wants her fill.

I blink, relax my hands and pushed off to one side suddenly. Aaron lets out a huge sigh of relief.

“It’s not your kind of place.” I say squatting before standing and offering him a hand up. He hesitates, briefly, looking around at the crowd that has gathered around us. “You need to leave.” I pull him upright to his feet and drop his hand as Paris slides his arm around my waist.

“Can I at least ask,”

“No.” I cut him off. “You don’t want trouble Aaron, that includes this place, me and him.” I say pointing to Paris. “Stay away.”

“Got that.” Aaron mutters in a low voice, gingerly touching the blood underneath his nose again. Momentairly reminding me of the old Aaron.

“Jules, make sure he gets cleaned up and out of here safely.” Paris instructes the other Alpha male wolf. “Put him a cab.” Jules nods his head silently and steps forward towards Aaron. Who looks back over at me.

“You’re a weird one.” He says softly, glancing from me to Paris and back at me, shaking his head.

“Better than being a bitch whore.” I reply, as he starts to move towards Jules.

“About that, I shouldn’t have said that I’m sorry. I had no right.”

I nod my head at him.

“Got that.”

No need to hold back

July 22, 2010
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Jack and Diane is a John Mellancamp song and it is also, an upcoming movie that heyyouguys.co.uk says

“Jack and Diane tells the story of two teenage girls who meet in New York City and spend the night kissing ferociously.”

I gather it’s a rather sexual movie in nature then, given this description.  

Apparently “Diane must struggle to keep their love alive while hiding the secret that her newly awakened sexual desire is giving her werewolf-like visions.”

And singer Kylie Minogue is going to get it one with at least one of the girls in the film.  Not bad going. 

Only I’m not sure, I get what “Werewolf-like visions” are.

Is this a desperate reach to link sexuality and werewolves?

Or some film maker trying to “re boot” the notion of werewolves to the film going public? 

Trying to out-twilight – twilight perhaps? Hmm.

Got news for you. 

Twilight works because it’s about epic romance. A sweeping scale of ideal epic fantasy. That’s it.  I’d want to hope that Jack and Diane if they’re going to do some sort of pseudo association with werewolves, they would not go down the twilight path of glitter.  I’d want to hope they attempt to give us werewolves a good name.

Well, they are setting the film, in New York, apparently. So there is good source material there, if they know where and how to go looking for it.  If they want the actors to go all method and get amongst the real werewolves of New York.  Or if they could get anyone to talk about our culture. We could act like consultants to them, I guess. 

Still, I’m not sure what “werewolf like visions” means.  I mean, if you want to go littoral on this term.  Are they saying that when the girl is turned on, her mind ticks over to that of a more baser animal and she see’s people through animal eyes, and gets turned on in a violent manner?

That’s not what happens to me.  No, there is definitely only a feeling of potential violence when there’s blood and running and screaming.  Then the animal werewolf in me kind of wants to go hunting.  But most of the time my werewolf is placid by comparison. 

There’s this thing about shape shifting, that we all work very hard to obtain and keep when we’re taught as werewolves grow up.   The mindset of the human you, can affect the mindset of the werewolf you.  So if you’re aggravated and traumatized and upset when you shape shift, then you’re wolf is likely to keep those sensations when your body physically changes. And you come to, in tribal form, like you’re on a rage spree. That’s when stuff is not good.

It’s also partially why we shape shift with partners, or in groups.  If your werewolf comes to in a highly hyper-active state of anger, then there will be other werewolves there to contain the situation of your overly emotional state. Basically, they’ll pull you into line and put you in your place.

Werewolves, we look out for each other.  

Werewolves and lesbians is there a difference? Well I’d want to hope whatever the difference was, it was a positive one, since Jack and Dianne is associating one of the lesbian characters of this movie with “werewolf like visions”.  That term disturbs me. Makes me think the wrong thing. That maybe it’s some sort of euphemism for a way of saying same sex /werewolf sexuality is not normal. Which I’d hate to think was the message being sent out.

I’m assuming that the by saying “werewolf like visions”, that this term more than likely refers to some sort of carnal lust and control issue, when the horny teenager is at her wits end and turned on completely.  Guess they are going down the twilight path, horny, teenager, holding back , werewolf visions…blah blah blah…yawn.

Anyway, I have to get ready for my night out, with my Alpha wolf in the clubs. No need to hold back. Thankfully, I’m not a teenager.

The to do list.

July 10, 2010
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Spending a couple days in a cage, does wonders for a girl’s bitch meter.

Gabby from the Manhattan Maen Pack found this out, after the fact.

Sure, there was a reason I was put in the cage. But being put in a cage, doesn’t mean I have to or am every likely to, enjoy being there. I can understand that, because being in heat, isn’t as simple as it fucking sounds when you’re a werewolf.   But then again, when is anything ever simple when you’re a werewolf?

Always having to double think things through, always checking over your shoulder, always aware of your surroundings and always, consciously working on your control and being in control of the animal side of you. Always, that control thing, that never stops. Like ever, throughout your entire existence.

It’s part of the condition, susceptible to things, like, the unpredictability of suddenly being in heat.

Returning to Manhattan for Paris, must’ve been like going into rehab for him. You know, a paid for holiday away from the distraction that is me, in his life.  At least, that’s what Gabby told me when she came to get me.

She works with him, did I tell you that?

Fucking hate that. She’s his pack, so really, not much choice in the matter. Every pack werewolf is expected to do whatever is required of them, when called upon by their leading Alpha.  And Gabby would never want to disappoint Paris, if she thought she could somehow get into his good graces and bed.

She took one look at me and her whole demeanor changed in a heartbeat.  Scowling, growling and ready to bear claws.

Apparently, I had sex hair and was glowing.

Apparently Gabby doesn’t like sex hair and the glowing look on me, because it indicates I’ve

A)    had sex

B)    had sex recently

C)    had a lot of sex recently

D)    and done it all with Paris

Also, did I mention on no particular principal, she just hates my guts?

Never has liked me, from the moment we met.  Probably because

A)    I’m younger than her

B)    I’m also cuter

C)    I’m dating the guy she so obviously wants

D)    I’m fucking the guy she so obviously wants

E)     She’s been mooning over him, for years (no solid proof on this, just a hunch, since they’re from the same pack and all)

F)     Paris has never shown any interest in dating or fucking her. EVER.

G)    I’m not from her pack and I’m dating her Alpha.

Gabby was on pack duty. Doing what was required of her, as asked by her pack leader, Paris.   Paris got called away and his lieutenants were all tied up in other pack business, and so Gabby got called in.   We weren’t in Brooklyn or Manhattan and she had to come and collect me, to take me back home.

Yes, what a genius idea in learning patience, understanding and tolerance. In keeping tempers firmly under control.  Put me and bitch face together in a car, for awhile. And instruct us, not to tear each other, or the car apart.

The car was after all, only a rental.

“I’m not doing this for your benefit.” She stated as we both got into the car.

“I wouldn’t think you’d ever do anything for anyone’s benefit other than your own.” I replied, sliding into my seat.  She tensed up and turned to face me.

“I’m not allowed to tear this car apart with you in I, because I was asked, not to, by my Alpha. That’s the only reason, you’re safe in here.  If I didn’t have to do this bullshit baby sitting duty on some velléitaire, sous développé, l’onu digne, excuse for a loup-garou, I wouldn’t hesitate to make my case known about how much I dislike you and how you don’t belong amongst my pack or in the presence of my Alpha.”

I think her verbal attack was supposed to make me cry or something.

Phul-ease.  Take a ticket and get in line, jealous bitch.

“Chienne drive.” I replied calmly clicking my seat belt into place.

She snapped her teeth closed and shape shifted them to werewolf fangs, before lunging across the seat at me and snapping them closed, close to my neck.  I felt her breath touch my skin.

I tried not to flinch and react.

She laughed and pulled back into her own seat and started the car up.   Pulled her sunglass down and kept laughing before muttering through those fangs “Your nothing but a velléitaire loup-garou”.

Relaxing, wasn’t exactly what I came out feeling from getting out of that cage.  It might have been caged to prevent me from being a harm to others, but I’d probably have enjoyed beating her down when I’d been in heat.  It’d have given me something to do with my  paws.

Things to keep in mind, for the next time for the what “to do” list.

Doing Laundry

August 23, 2009
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I was doing laundry.

I can be somewhat of a slob sometimes. I tend to end up throwing my clothes aside quite often, and letting them pile up until I have no fresh, clean or whatever I would deem wearable clothes in my wardrobe to wear.

I found one of my tops was torn.   A red one.

It always looks great on me.  Usually an eye popper, show stopper.

But now I find it’s torn. Well shredded would be more accurate.  Not just torn. Two whole sides of it, it looks like claw marks, have torn it from back to just around the front. It’s utterly ruined.  It’s not even a top you could pass off as having deliberately meant to be like that.  Like a deliberate look of fashion.

Fucking werewolf foreplay.

Doesn’t always have to be rough or rash, but more and more tends to be with me and Conall.

Granted, I like winding him up, pushing him to hold out till he can’t and then that’s when the fun starts.  Right before the fur fly’s. Everything he’s feeling just rushes out of him desperately as he tries to consume me in his passion.

It’s like a form of devotion.

Being swept up in his sexual desire for me.

It works, how can I not get swept up in his heat? When his body feels like it’s on fire and his eyes tell me he’s drowning in built up desire.  Just by looking at me.

The world drops away and I feel like falling to my knees and clinging to his body. Our breathing syncs and we’re gone. There isn’t anything else but us. That’s when we tend to forget that one off designer tops are hard to come by. Clothing gets torn, forgotten in a momentary bliss of blinded emotion.

It’s all body memory when we reach that place.  Common sense and inhibitors go out the window. Werewolves, even locked up inside us, take over the carnal side of control. Fully. They want us to be together, maximum consumption anyway, anyhow.

You could call it a loss of control.

I prefer to call it surrender.

Times like this I feel like he says so much to me without saying a word. The sounds of his breathing, his moans, groans and little sighs of air. They make me aware of his sensuality, as much as where his lips are on me. Or how his hands grip me, where his teeth nip at me.

I liked that top. Really liked it.

Conall liked it too.  That’s why it got shredded. He’d been eyeing me all the time in that red top.  As if distracted by it’s coloring on me. Hard to not notice and look at.

That top was a favorite of mine.

But then so is Conall and carnal pleasure.

Happy thoughts as my heartbeat picks up.

I think that’s the only time I’ve ever enjoyed doing laundry. Hmmm.

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