A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Coming Soon: Growing Up Werewolf

June 28, 2011
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Photo by Urban Data Cc by 2.0

Coming soon to ebook Growing up Werewolf

I was fourteen years old once. I was a naive pup. Waiting for my shape shift to happen for the first time.
The thing with a first time is it’s always the time you remember. You never forget. The one that you carry with you always in the back of your mind. You think you know what to expect, but you never do. Especially if you don’t see it coming and it’s nothing like you imagined. Nothing you’ve been told before.
It can’t be undone once it’s done. Once you truly become a werewolf.

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Pounding heart

November 19, 2010
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Booker and I are laughing as we walk back into my house. The door shuts and the latch has barely clicked into place when there’s a pounding on the door.

My heart beat races, the pounding is loud and precise. Resilient in it’s restless need to get through the wooden entrance.

Booker looks at me, his face suddenly a mask of seriousness. The guy’s happiness has gone again. He’s always so serious now a days.
“Get to your room now, lock the door and don’t come out until I tell you, you can.”
“What?” I whisper fiercely back at him. “I’m not a fucking child!”
“Do it, Or I’ll drag you in there myself.” His firm reply as he stares back at me, daring me to challenge him further.

This whole safety over me thing, because of Gabby, is really beginning to annoy the hell out of me. I stomp off to my room but loiter in the doorway.

Booker looks back at the front door.

“Let me see her!”

I could be mistaken, but through the thickness of the door, the muffled voice sounds like Paris.

“Open up!”

Booker looks back down the hallway towards me and indicates for me to get inside my room like a good little werewolf.

“It’s Paris, let him in.” I step out of my doorway. Booker’s hand is on the front door handle, but he’s looking at me.
“He’s not coming in here.”
I step right out into the hallway. “Yes he is. Let him in here Booker, he’s my packmate!”
“You know what my orders are from Bodil, she finds out I let him in here, we’re both history.”
“I can handle Bodil.”
“No, you really can’t.” Booker throws back at me, as Paris keeps thumping against the door. Demanding to see me. “Trust me, when I say, you don’t want to either. Just get out of sight for now.”
“Booker, so help me, if you do not open that door and let Paris in here, I’m never ever speaking to you or acknowledging your existence ever again in this pack. Open the door!”

Booker’s eyes widen as he stares back at me and he drops his hand away from the door handle. Of course, threatening an Alpha, even an Alpha lycan like him, is always a bad, bad move.

Of course, you might not consider it much of a threat, what I threw at him. Except, to Booker and to me, those words are still a pretty big deal. Neither one of us wants to not know the other. Not that we’d say it out loud. Even if we’re not together anymore. Not that anyone outside of the hallway or in our pack knows that. Not my over protective sister and best friend to Booker and not my packmate Paris, Booker’s old friend.

Booker and I were a rather passionate secret.

I start walking towards him and he reaches for the door suddenly, unlocking it. Paris pushes on the open door and straight into Booker. Looking past him towards me.

He shoves the other male aside, not easily but successfully all the same and rushes towards me.

“You can’t be here man.” He says as Paris stops before me.
“I tried to contact you, you’re sister and her possee, they intercept me, cut me off from getting to you. What’d they take lessons in how to sabatoage and block?”
“You can’t be here, if Bodil finds out you’re here…”
Paris turns around abruptly fast. The move of the angry wolf, whipping around to deal with it’s common enemy. Annoyance.

“I need to be here. It’s lunar week, she’s got to shape shift. We don’t know how she’ll be affected after…what happened.”
I reach for Paris’s hand and stand beside him, looking back at Booker.
“It’s my house, he’s staying.”
“I’ve got my orders.” Booker replies firmly, scowling back at us.
“Booker if he goes, then I’m going with him.”

His frown gets deeper.
“The hell you are.”

Paris’s body tenses at Booker’s words. I don’t want to see these two fight, especially over me. “My orders were to keep you safe, not leave you alone.”
“Well then, you fulfilled your orders. I’m safe, and I’ve got two Alpha’s with me. What could possibly be safer than that in my own house?”
“Look, Bodil will be swinging by here,” He glances at his watch and back at us. “In an hour to check on you. If she finds Paris here, all hell will break loose and I’m not going to be able to stop her.”
I nod my head in understanding.

“You can’t stay.” Booker says looking Paris in the eyes. They stare each other down without blinking. I can’t help but wonder if they’re passing some sort of silent message to each other. Or if it’s just anger. Or in seeing which Alpha wolf will back down first.

“You got forty minutes.” Booker says walking off into the other end of the house. “And then I’ll kick you out myself.”

I ignore the unhappiness and anger in Booker’s voice and turn away from the sight of him marching off into the opposite end of the house. He’s either trying to give us privacy, as wolves, even lycans have exceptional hearing, or restrain himself.

Paris and I walk back towards my bedroom and I finally close the door when we’re both inside. My heart is pounding as I look back at him and move towards him quickly.

But he puts his hands out and keeps me at bay.
“We don’t need to rush this.” He says and scoops me up, walking me over to my bed.

“uh hello, time limit.” I mutter back at him as he lays me down.

“Well, I don’t want to rush this.” He replies, leaning over me and tugging at my top.


Touch

October 24, 2010
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On the night of the full moon, all the werewolf knows is that release will come. Freedom will elope the form of it’s cage. One soul into another and then there is just the wolf.

The moon’s presence will strum along my skin, prickling it, testing it, taunting inside me, with a fiery blood that wants to surge to delight.

It’s the touch of another, wolf, my packmate Paris that abates this for me and fuels the urgency to shape shift.

There will come a crucial point in the night, when I can not hold back any longer. When I know, my body will break, if I do not succumb to the shape shift.

So we do what we must. We tease and coax one another. Because what better way is there to come into our own? It’s fun, it’s enjoyable, it’s eventual. It makes the process of the shape shift smoother.

The night after full moon, and sometimes, it still feels the same to me. I still feel the urge, the need, but my body doesn’t command me without choice. But it doesn’t mean I won’t play under the moonlight, in the embrace of it’s pressence.

The best part of lunar week, is the indulgence. The sense of escape. Burning hot with everything, that you control and slowly rid yourself of. Shackled heavily with heightened sensations and emotions.

The lust in the air is so thick it could be considered stifling, if I didn’t like the sensation of being wrapped in it. The werewolf population will ride out a lunar week, as long as they can. It’s our fun time.

The tip of a tongue trails down the back of my neck slowly.

Jules finishes speaking beside me and Paris mummers “Mmhm” against my skin then pulls away to answer Jules. I’m sitting in front of Paris, closest to Jules, as the boys lean back behind my shoulder line to talk.

Werewolves are used to close confines, to being around one another when they’re dripping in moon heat, lunar lust. But it’s the small touches, innocent enough, that set me off.

It’s familiar that pack wolves do this, rub and touch against one another. Regardless of who they are.

Jules doesn’t mean it, but my brain is elsewhere having very naughty thoughts, as the two men behind me, talk, their heads close together.

Jules’s finger tips, rest right at the side of my thigh. Just touching, barely touching. Resting on the seat we all sit on. His shoulder, brushes against me as he holds his conversation behind my back.

I have no idea what they’re talking about, I haven’t been paying attention to that. My mind is firing on touch, scent and building want. Still. I need my fill, again.

I need to get a grip.

I pick up my champagne. The cool glass is heaven to touch and gives me enough focus again, to drag my mind out from the after glow of two and half days of having the Manhattan Maen Alpha all to myself.

It doesn’t matter that we’re back in the thick of pack again, because when the evening closes down on us all, I will have him again. And that’s what keeping me patient right now. As Paris’s hand slips under one side of my dress and around my leg. I find myself moving my leg slightly, more open for him.

Encouraging him to do what I think he’s going to do, right there under Jules nose, out of sight, under the table. Because he can sense my relentless want to keep this fire between us going.

You see it’s the touches. Small touches, that burn, drive and sate us. It’s the small touches, his touches on me, my touch against him, that contain, control and release, us, and our werewolves.


Sensing the wolf

May 22, 2010
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What’s worse than getting the last word and still feeling horrible about it?

Getting the last word, feeling horrible about it and then having to go back to the person you dumped on, for help.

Seriously, talk about taking the wind out of your sails.

I faced that dilemma. The scratches along my arms were stinging and the corner of my mouth was starting to throb painfully. My muscles were stiffening and aching too, as the adrenaline that had been in them, left my all too human body.

Way to remind me I’m still just a mortal, even if I’m part werewolf. Sigh.

So after watching my boyfriend, the Manhattan Maen pack Alpha, stay very much in control of what was sure to be a building temper. Due to what he and Addison thought were foolish actions on my behalf. Getting into a fight with a greater opponent than myself.

I had to fix myself, at least physically. Which meant, shape shifting.

See once the body shifts to the werewolf, the process of healing begins. Somehow the werewolf body knows just how long you need to be in your tribal form, for all the injuries to recover. So it holds the form for that time frame, before, automatically shape shifting back to human form, when it’s done. It’s rather brilliant like that.

Shape shifting on demand outside of a lunar week, is not always hard. But it does depend greatly on the werewolf involved. In my case, it also depended greatly on the injuries I’d already sustained from my bitch fight with the lycan hunter and from how much pain my human body was going through. Well, not so much pain on the physical level, as shock and trauma on a muscular, body level. My human body was holding me back. Because of this and the fact that because of this, I couldn’t focus enough to make the shape shift I needed, happen for me.

Which meant, one of two things.

1) I could either skip the shape shift and deal with the physical scaring.

2) Or I could ask for help.

Yes, way to get back me, karma.

Make the werewolf with the biggest amount of offended pride, have to go and ask an Alpha werewolf, for help to bring on her shape shift.

I’m a little bit vain, and I was beginning to feel tired from trying to do what was fast becoming the impossible for me, so I chose option 2.

Paris was obliging, although, it was still a little weird. Strained between us.

We didn’t speak to each other, as we stripped of our own clothes. He didn’t attempt to undress me any more than I did him. Normally we’re all over each other. Loving the contact and the possession of the other one. Not talking and being aware of the silence between us, was different to just trying to be quiet and not making any noise.

The thing with assisting a shape shift, it can be done without physical contact to one another. You just have to be close to one another, within personal space etc, to make it happen. But an assisted shape shift will probably go a smoother and faster if there is physical contact. And I don’t mean, holding hands.

I was standing there naked, beginning to wonder how we would do this. When Paris took the decision making out of the equation for me.

I felt his calloused finger tips smooth their way along my hamstrings, like they were out taking a leisurely stroll along my skin, the still smooth and unscarred skin of my upper legs. I breathed heavily as my heart beat picked up and he cupped my behind, feeling it rest in his hands. Pressing himself against me. He ran his nose along my shoulder and kissed my shoulder lightly, as he brushed my hair away from my neck. My heart was happily thudding away in anticipation of more. But the anticipation of sex, is not enough to bring on a smooth shape shift. You need to sense the wolf for that. It’s an oddity, I’ll give you that. Sex helps relax but you still need to focus on sensing the other werewolf presence to bring your own into play. So you know, no getting carried away with the first part of the exercise!

He turned me around slowly, so my back was too him, against him. I could feel the heat of his chest warming me as he swept my silky hair over my shoulder so it was again, out of the way. Paris ran his nose back along the top of my shoulders, sighing lightly as he picked up my scent. He move to the right side shoulder and did the same, only when he came to my neck, he ran his tongue up behind my ear.

I couldn’t help but shiver.

Then he did something rather special.

Whilst his mouth was kissing the back of my neck, his hands, resting gently on my hips. He shape shifted his teeth, as he was nipping the back of my neck, so I could feel the sensation of the shift against my skin. So it would stir the sleeping werewolf inside me with the feeling that it ran over me. I felt the sharpness of his teeth, pressing slightly against my skin and I groaned, dropping my head forward.

It was rather heady. I felt dazed, as his fingers dug tighter into my hips, telling me silently that he was keeping control of his own desire. As he kept holding me to him. I felt the heat of his body intensify and sniffed the air, mingled with cologne and the musk of heat from the man behind me, was his werewolf scent of amber, almonds and sunlight on fur.

It was all I needed, as my mind visualized what I already knew, Paris’s werewolf looked like and my skin started to shimmer, the shape shift kicking itself into motion.


Werewolves under moonlight

April 28, 2010
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When werewolves of today, such as myself shape shift during lunar week, it’s usually done indoors. I shape shift because of my werewolf biology that balances with my human side. My body has a compelling need to be something much more free than the whole human part of me.

Shape Shifting for me is mostly done in the company of others and I do it indoors. Mostly because it’s what I’ve conditioned myself, my wolf self to put up with. Because I live in a city. Which is about as natural to a werewolf as a desert is to Eskimos.

It’s a natural progression throughout time and our history that werewolves would evolve from beasts of the forests to counterparts of the urban city jungle. But there’s something to be said for being outdoors in werewolf form. It’s somewhat of a luxury and for me and mine.

There’s a sense of natural instinct and train of thought for the werewolf when its on solid ground, sniffing at dirt and animal scents on the cool night air. The feel of grass and dew underfoot is somewhat of an indulgence. Whenever I shape shift outdoors it’s like a new experience. It’s exciting. Probably because I don’t really do it all that often. After all, the New York werewolf packs have a big, old, golden rule about not shape-shifting in public, in front of humans.

Can’t freak the dears out.
Or get caught on video and become a you tube star.

Still some of us *whistles innocently* on “occasion”, get the urge to be one with our wolf outdoors. It’s these kinds of urges that a werewolf should not ignore. Because being a werewolf requires more than a semblance of self control. Bad shit can happen to you, those around you if you allow yourself to become feral and wild without true thought. And nobody wants to deal with the bad stuff. Just ruins the party.

If I were in Manhattan and felt the need to run and romp, I ‘might’ head out and hideout around Central Park, fairly late at night. Or if I were in Brooklyn, I’d probably sight prospect park as good place to get in tune with my natural self. The parks have a few hundred acres of nature and woodland for us to sniff and whiff around and enjoy under the cover of darkness at night.

Paris and I were making out under a tree, like a couple of hormonal teenagers, as we roughly yanked and pulled clothing off one another. The mixture of night time, a sense of urgency as the moon rose higher, made him harder and me hotter as we kept the contact of one another together. I straddled his lap and he eased me down as his mouth consumed sensitive skin that tightened against the cold night air. I was oblivious to the feel of cold, because the heat he was generating, was like pouring fuel onto an already full fire, that was my body.

We moved, hurriedly and Paris bit his lip, hard, to keep quiet. We didn’t want to attract any attention, human or wolf alike. We wanted to mate outdoors, in the comfort of night and under the essence of the full moon. Before we shape shifted and wandered around the park. For us, being so carefree and outdoors, doing the things we would do indoors at nightclubs was like the equivalent of being at Disneyland.

Happy.

We moved together with a synchronicity of werewolves who were fated together in this life and every other. His body warmed and encouraged mine, as I increased the pace of our fevered outdoor adventure. We’d decided to sneak away from the regular club scene, for the last part of the night. The latest part of the night as we could make it, before I would shape shift first, before him. I always felt the pull of the moon and the shape shift much earlier than he did. Just how it is being a beta werewolf.

Paris warned we couldn’t be out in the parkland all night long. He said only an hour or two. Which would mean, he would need to bring me out of my shape shift later on so I could get redressed and humanized to leave the park, or he’d have to carry my furry rump out of their without looking like he was kidnapping a wolf. Either was, it was apparent he was trying to be the Alpha leader he was meant to be. To do the right thing, and not get caught. But he was also trying to please his pack mate, me by allowing me to indulge in our little down in the dirt, romp. I think he found the risk of getting caught, exciting.

Typical adrenaline junkie. It’s all about the rush. Who was I to complain? I was loving the ride and of course the illicit secrecy of what we were getting away with. My body was suddenly seized by building pleasure racking it. I gasped, throwing my head back, my hair flying out around the back of me like a wave of night itself. Paris could no longer contain his quiet and he cried out, his voice filling the otherwise silent air as he joined me in riding out the sensation of our being together. We could no longer hold back our pleasure or wanted to. Paris howled , filling the night around us as I slackened in his embrace and rested my head on his pounding chest.

The feel of his heart, thudding against his skin. A sound of something that’s mine. Telling me it was racing to met the moon, as it had met me, made me smile.

Werewolves under moonlight, is there anything sexier?


Mating Dance

March 31, 2010
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Sometimes, there’s just no need to go out. Don’t get me wrong, the werewolf clubs of New York, are awesome, especially on a lunar week. But I don’t always need them. They provide a…service in the kind of environment that benefits a werewolf going through lunar week. But it’s not like that intensity of sexual need can’t be built upon elsewhere. Especially if you have your own pack mate, who rather specializes in intensity and charisma at the same time.

Call me a sucker, but Paris has it. Loads of it.

So that’s why the plans to go out the other night were completely thrown out the window, whilst our clothes were just thrown around the room. Because whilst werewolves aren’t the most bashful of creatures, when we come to in human form, most of us just don’t want to get arrested for indecency in a public. Most of us. Too many questions, to many hard stares, and then the suspicions arise.

Still, like I said, we didn’t go public. We stayed in. Being the Alpha of the pack, means Paris gets to call the shots, and whilst it might be good for the image of the Alpha to be seen amongst his pack during lunar week, it doesn’t mean he can’t have the occasional night off. Leaving things to his second in command, Addison. Besides, we had been club hopping for the past few nights and we had, intended originally to go out.

But we just never got to it.

See the shower was rather nice and as much as I like the feel of water pounding down on me like a steady massage over my skin, when I’m wound up tight, like on a lunar week, I like the feel of the werewolf before me, even more. Even when he’s not, actually touching me. Well, you know, not to begin with. The build up of anticipation is like a climbing a mountain of expectation and exhilaration. Courses through my blood and pounds at my head, till it’s the only thought in there.

What could be. What’s he going to do to me? What does he want to do? How good is it going to feel? Can I get through that intensity in one piece and still breath? Are my legs going to hold me up?

I was under the spray of the water and he was standing in front me, looking back at me. And we were having a silent conversation of minds and eyes and looks and sighs and moans, and it was all good.

I couldn’t have told you whether the temperature went up due to the water or because of the two of us. Because the anticipation of what could be, was edging us both on. Paris’s hands on his body, my hands found use of mine.

I leaned back against the coolly tiled wall behind me and grinned at him. Sex is best when its fun and utterly, enjoyable. Really, why settle for less? He leaned forward, an inch or so within my space, his breath as hot as the water’s steam, those dark eyes drilling into me. Making me feel owned outright by him, in the kind of way you’re willing to be someone else’s. His arm extended over my shoulder, his palm flat against the wall there. So he was close, oh, so close to me. We moved in a synchronized harmony, that was not only solely for our own pleasure but for the other one’s too.

Werewolves mating dance. It’s the only way a wolf ever wants to be captured.

Of course, after the build up, you have to take the ride, or what’s the point? So there we were, facing one another, dripping in water and surrounded by steam. Listening to each other’s heart racing as our pace increased and our wolves urged us on to one another. Of course, after we got our fill, things didn’t exactly end there.

Why stop at one sin, when you can have all seven?

But it was enough to make both our bodies at ease to find the comfort needed to seamlessly shape shift for the night.


Black Dog

January 23, 2010
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“Who is black dog?”

Paris dresses quickly.

“More like, what is black dog?” He replies, zipping up his pants.

Turns out Black Dog is a Shape Shifter. Which is to say, he’s unlike a werewolf.

Yes, we werewolves can shift to our animal self, the wolf, at will and under moonlight even more so. But Black Dog is not a werewolf, he’s a human who can shape shift to animal form, including that of a wolf. Only it turns out, he doesn’t get the same abilities it would seem, as us werewolves.

He can only shape shift, during lunar week. In regular time outside of this, apparently he can’t do it. Just doesn’t work for him like it works for us. But they’re not really sure about all that he can do, or be, so to speak.

I watch Paris do up the bottom three shirt buttons.

“So why’s he a problem?” I ask curiously.

“Because I once dated his girlfriend and she left the pack.” Paris watches my face carefully before adding, “She was one of ours.”

He’s some pain in the ass human who once dated a pack werewolf. Lardy-dah, BD thinks he’s special.
The romance turned sour, ended, ran its course.

I don’t know any Breukelen who have willingly left our pack.
Ever.
But then, not all Packs are created equal or run the same way. Which in itself is odd, a werewolf leaving a pack structure, but not completely unheard of.

Apparently this girl Black Dog dated, just wanted a life outside of New York, outside of the pack, so she up and left in the middle of the night. Didn’t tell a soul she was going. She just left. With no forwarding address. She wanted to be gone, so she did her best disappearing trick, and it worked. Black Dog didn’t take to kindly to the news, he’d been so unceremoniously cut out of her life. So he decided to take out his frustrations on the Manhattan Pack.

In particular, on Paris.

He kisses me hard, and it’s rough and needy. I know he wants me as much as I want him and he’s torn that he had to do his Alpha duties at such a shitty, inconvenient time.

But if you’re going to be werewolf pack leader, you do not play leader, you are the leader. It means living up to your responsibilities to pack. Even on a lunar night.

Every now and then apparently, black dog re-appears to cause trouble for the Manhattan Pack. Seems like this lunar week, is one of those times.

“This is about pack.” He says cupping the side of my face.

He kisses me again. This time its tender and filled with longing as he consumes my mouth. He’s letting me know in that kiss that I have no need to feel stupidly insecure about some past romance that was before our time.

“Pack.” I repeat.


Alpha

January 18, 2010
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Alpha werewolves, they are a breed unto themselves.

Well, that’s what makes them different from us beta wolves, like me.

It’s what makes them an Alpha.

I’m surrounded by so many in my life, the leader of the Breukelen Pack, my sister, my sister’s “close” friends slash companions, Booker and Nick. My boyfriend Paris and his best friend Addison.

They’ve got more power and differences than the rest of the pack. It’s why they stand out, it’s why they can do the things they do.

That I as a born beta wolf, can’t.

Like shape shift fast, at will. I mean, all werewolves can shape shift and at will. We don’t have to wait for the full moon or lunar week.

But Alpha werewolves, they can do it faster, than beta wolves, and they can make, beta wolves shape shift at their will. At their werewolf’s powerful insistence.

I guess you could say, they just kind of dominate a beta wolf’s mind and being. Like soak them in the Alpha aura or what have you.

It’s not like they even have to be touching you to make it happen. But touch, does help a lot. It accelerates the whole process along. Werewolves work better with touch.

Alpha’s are also less affected by the fast change over in and from forms, if they have to go back and forth between them. Where as a beta wolf would be able to shape shift once to werewolf form and then a few minutes later back to human form. An Alpha could do it more than once.

There are side effects, but Alpha’s cope a hell of a lot better with the presto-chango fall out than beta wolves. Their bodies are stronger, more prone to control and conditioning themselves, I guess.

If you’re around an Alpha werewolf enough, like during lunar week, or like me, are lucky enough to have one as a pack partner, then shape shifting, becomes a whole new experience.

The biggest difference is, when I’m with my pack mate, Paris, I can remember things from being in my werewolf form. Never used to happen to me.

I’d simply lose seven hours, after being in my tribal form. The animal’s memory would just go away and I’d have nothing to go on. No idea of the black and grey world the werewolf me saw or was in.

But the Alpha werewolf, Paris, and presumably others, has this way of making me retain those memories more. I can remember parts now. It’s intriguing. Like watching an old noir detective movie unfold in my life.

Alpha werewolves also look considerably different to regular beta werewolves. Beta werewolves like myself look like wolves, the kind you might see out in the wilds of nature. But, we look like large, overgrown, over exaggerated wolves.

Alpha werewolves tend to look more humanoid and still carry the wolf shape. That is to say, they can stand on two humanoid wolf legs, and walk upright, in werewolf form.

They can also choose to only partially shape shift. That is to say, if their hand is broken for example, they can choose to just shape shift their hand, to heal it, whilst remaining in human form.

Then there’s the abilities that come with being an Alpha, they have more than us other pack wolves. Well they have better, faster, stronger, more endurance, more control and some would argue, a slightly higher intelligence than the rest of us pack wolves.

It’s what makes them leadership material. I mean a pack needs structure or it just won’t work. Werewolves need packs to work. Because even in this day and age, packs mean better chance of survival, in the modern world.

Welcome to Werewolf World


Breaking Free

January 6, 2010
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Shape shifting, it’s not an exact science you know.
Neither is being a werewolf, but them’s the breaks (haha).

I guess that’s why it’s so intriguing to all you Nons. When you shape shift, it’s like being given the chance to have a new identity.

To be be someone else or something your not, in everyday, regular life as it were. I mean, granted it’s part of my life and indeed a part of me. But there comes with the ability a sense of relief, mentally.

I mean, the actual act of shape shifting varies. Depends on wether you your alone or in a group, in good health or injured. Injuries, depending on their severity can make the whole process ten times harder to undertake, get through and complete.

Taking pain into a shape shift, is like doubling dosing on the bad stuff, you know? You need to practice control in blocking it out to start the process, cause pain can also prevent a solo shape-shift.

That’s were shape shifting with a partner or group environment has it’s benefits. Group pheromones of familiarity and worth, of recognition, kind of calm the brain and therefore the body down in letting it know that it’s okay to do what it’s got to do. The pain factor generally lessens and the whole process is rather sped up, rather than if you alone and in particular alone and in unfamiliar surrounds.

Recognition, habit, pattern, that is something the werewolf works on.

So the whole dual identity that you carry around like a superhero who’s even more oppressed by this damaging personality trait (aka the werewolf) than even Superman, gets to break free. As well as breaking several bones along the way, which will eventually re-form, re-heal and find their place in the skin you carry it around in.

The werewolf is kept at bay for most of it’s life. Like a naughty child locked up in a cupboard for nothing more than being who it is. Because that’s how living in a modern age works.

Because the reality is, society isn’t all that ready to deal with it, so it locks it away. Well, we, the bearer of the werewolf do, because we’re required to by the fearmongers.

We leash it because it’s safer that way.
When your constantly in human form, you’re constantly assessing and wondering about things and balancing, judging, weighing up options as one part human you and one part werewolf you.

There is never a whole one side or the other option. It’s always a struggle and it’s always there. Right near the surface of you’re calm, your disguise of normality.

But hey, what’s normal anyway?

So when the werewolf does come out to sniff freedom, it gets its chance to experience your world, the human world, the one you keep it away from at a distance, for a majority of the month.

It gets to reveal in banishing the human owner of it. It gets to experience life, a new life it might seem like, each time you shape shift.

It gets to do what most of us humans, don’t get to do. It gets a break in life, it gets a chance to see things from a different view, gathers new perspective.

Understands itself and other identity, the human side of you, a bit more.

For us werewolves in today’s world, it’s like an eternal cycle of living, with all the benefits and rarely any of the downfalls, because the werewolf is never around all that long to have to go through them.

That’s the burden, the human side of us bears.
A life in motion and constant, perpetual flux.

Not so much unstable as it is shifting, like sand under your feet. Move with it, lose it or get the hell out of the way.

Free fall and control, head and body as one, and you can get through this life.


Night time

December 22, 2009
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I am a creature of the night.
Literally.
Ha ha – yes, I even have fangs

My werewolf soul is more stated at night. Like it’s in it’s rightful place. Like I have all the energy I need. Like I’m where I should be and able to do anything I please.

Werewolf’s were born into a relationship with night time and a conflict with daylight.

Our culture’s history have been linked forever with night time, like it was something to hold us back, rather than kept a place warm for us, waiting for us to just release ourselves into it.

Like night time and werewolf together were something that should only be feared, because it controlled us.

Our shape-shifts, whilst they can be called on in any time of day or night, (and must occur during lunar weeks) much prefer the natural progression that the moon gives us, at night time.

Although granted, when there’s an eclipse, that can seriously be challenged. That’s when it gets really wiry and weird for us. There have been werewolves who have been known to be unable to shape-shift in an eclipse. But have all the urges to do so and other traits. I guess the best way to describe it, is it would be like being caught in half-half mode permanently. You’re in human form, but every other part of your body is howling for the werewolf.

But night time for us, it’s like a blanket of relief, an easy comfort that we slip into at any given chance. It doesn’t even have to be about lunar week.

Night time is representative of a very core part of the werewolf. It’s not a cover of darkness we hide ourselves in shame in. No it’s more like a sexual seduction, a silken touch, that let’s us unwind just that bit more, than daylight does.

We can be ourselves, in our clubs, and under a clear night sky. We can engage in romance that is pleasured by our sensors feeling heightened, by night time.

Playing in the dark, only adds to an allure we seem inherently built with.

Night time, one of my favourite times.


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