DISCLAIMER:The following story is a work of fiction. All names, events, locals, et al, featured in the work are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to persons alive or dead is entirely unintentional.

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So, I was with Jasper, the fucktarded Werewolf I was currently fucking around with. We'd had yet another one of our epic tiffs. Ok, so, I admit it. We were one of those couples that broke up, in the messiest way possible, just so we could make up, in the sexiest way possible. (Let me tell you, there's just something inherently sexy about hot, passionate, angry sex that is just fucking awesome when it's with an uninhibited rage filled Were.) (Yes, I'll admit it. I'm a Mutt Slut.)

Anywhose, Jasper and I'd just finished round three or four or something like that, I'd lost count a few hours prior, when I got the vision. One second I was feeling Jasper's lips burning butterfly kisses in the cool softness of my flesh, I know that in a few hours those marks will have turned that bruise-like purplish-blue color but I've never given two fucks before and I don't think I ever will. The next moment, the floor, that had been clean-swept and pristine, was suddenly imbrued with blood and littered with sheared hair. I knew I need to get home like fucking yesterday and I hoped I wasn't too late. I turned to Jasper and said "Bébe, I need a lift home. Sooner the better."

Reluctantly, he drew back and went to fetch his keys. "I'll go get to car, I guess," He said in a voice full of exasperation.

"There won't be time, after. You'll just have to carry me."


"You say that like I'm fat. What I weight you could bench press with your pinky finger. And here you go and insult me when I was just about to give not-so-petit Petit Jasper a little kiss," I said coyly.

"What about this dire situation that you have to rush off to solve," I snarky replied, reminding me very much of Professor Snape. I smile up at hi from my perch on my knees in front of him.

"The only dire situation I need to attend to is the one right in front of me and I don't intend to rush this matter in the least," I said facetiously before I took a swipe at his bulbous mushroom cap with my dainty tongue. I lapped at the turgid mound of flesh before me with all the zeal of a toddler with a lolly. (Ok, so probs not the best example to use here, but, oh fucking well.)

As my lush crimson tinged lips attempted to stretch over the dripping hardness of Petit Jasper, a not so easy feat given that the damn thing was as round as a fifty cent piece, Jasper let out a moan that was more a howl than anything else. When it popped in and the rich earthy taste of his precum flooded my mouth I couldn't suppress a moan of my own. "Fuck, that feels... fuck," Jasper moaned as his hands went to my head out of habit. I continued taking more of his length into my throat moaning, like a French whore, the entire time. There was just something about a were's cock that I just found insanely inciting. I've yet to meet a wolf that was smaller than 8 inches. And Jasper's got the biggest I've seen. He's just over 10 and ½ inches long. I guess, at the end of the day, I'm just a fucking size queen.

After about five minutes of abusing my throat on Jasper's tumid missile of flesh I'd had enough. I pulled off and looked him in his lust-fueled brown eyes and said, breathily "Fuck me. Hard." He wasted no time. He grabbed me, like I was a rag doll, and tossed me on the bed. Seconds later, his diamond hard dripping member was pressing at the slightly gaped entrance of my well fucked rosebud as he drove my sinewy legs up towards my head.

As his sparse bush of pubes meshed with the porcelain flesh of my ass he let out a hiss as I let out an earth shattering scream of pure unbridled passion. I swear it wasn't even ten strokes later when we both crashed down on that beach of orgasmic bliss.

"Did you ever figure of what your cuz is up to," I said, once I'd come down from my post sex high. I picked up the pack of Marlboro cigarettes from atop the nightstand, tapped two out, lit them and handed one to Jasper.

"No. But, whatever Milan is planning it's going to be big. He's been running back and forth between here and North Carolina at least once a week for the passed four months. I think he's finally going to challenge his father to be pack master," Jasper said between puffs of his smoke.

"What would that mean for our pack," I said. I hoped Jasper wouldn't take too much offense with my choice of words. The way I saw things I was Jasper's chosen mate. I mean I fucking baked cakes and stuff for him and the pack, and I never bake. The pack accepted me as one of their own. As far as I was concerned they were my pack too, fur or no fur.

"Well, if he does beat Jaden then he'll become pack master of the second largest pack in North America."

"And who'll lead our pack?"

"As Milan's second in command I'd be the one. That's assuming he doesn't decide to combine packs."

"But, can he kill his own father," I said the one question that Jasper didn't want to say aloud.

"My uncle may be pushing sixty, but, he's a fucking beast when he's threatened and just because it's his only son doesn't mean he'll go easy on him," Jasper said wistfully.

"Ok, let not dwell on things neither of us can do anything about. Now, get up and fucking hurry," I said as I dug my clothing out of the pile of cloths where we'd left them by the side of the bed before I threw him his cargo shorts and tank top, the only articles of clothing him or his pack ever wore; they don't need much clothing because of all the fur they have in their wolf forms traps in heat and that transfers over to their human forms so that their average body temperature is 108.6 °F.

"Come here," Jasper said in a gruff voice that spoke of and insatiable yearning that try as I might I could never fill. I walked over to him and he pulled me into a brawny-armed embrace. I melted into his touch and his kiss burned through my body like a warm wine. I was so lost in that kiss that I hadn't noticed that Jasper had sat me back down. "Call me when you've settled whatever it is you needed to do," He said as he ran back home.

 So, there I was standing at the back door leading from the weed choked garden into the kitchen via the mudroom reeking of booze and cigarette smoke, sweat, sex, wet dog, reeling from that kiss I just had, and listening to the morbidly obese fucktard I once called father yelling twenty kinds of profanities like a fucking scurvy riddled sailor at my bro. Something told me to grab some of the clothing folded on the laundry table as I went. I did, my feelings had never been wrong before and I wasn't about to question them now.

What I gleamed from Daddy Dearest's salty tirade was that his golden child had finally fucked up and in a royal way too. Although, I had no fucking iota of a clue s to why Daddy Dearest bloody over reacted the way he did. It's not like he doesn't already know that at least on of his sons likes to park bikes up their dirt tracks and all that fucking jazz. But, a ab fab bitch, such as myself, certainly wasn't going to stand by and let that ... that man the only brother I knew I fucking had.

So, what if the Big Bro in question is a fucking Fang Banger. I was most certainly in no position to pass any form of judgment on him, what with me being  know Mutt Slut and all that good shit. And frankly, Daddy Dearest wasn't in a much better place, as far as I was concerned. I wanted so fucking badly, so much so that it was like a lump in the pit of my stomach the size and weight of ... I don't know ... a fucking over-large grapefruit, to shut him the fuck up by telling him that he was fucking a Spue himself. (The cunt he called himself shagging these days was a gd a fox, literally. I knew she was a shifter by the slightly smoky slightly fruity smell her body gave off, a scent that only shifters have; one she desperately tried, unsuccessfully as far as I was concerned, to mask with Chanel no. 19. For you info, Weres smell like warm, fresh cut grass, and wet dog. Vamps have a coppery metallic smell about them. And Witches, we smell human, whatever that smells like. Yes, I'm a fucking card touting member of the broomstick brigade. And so is my Big Bro, only he doesn't know yet. I haven't bothered to tell him until he manifests some form of powers.)

Anywhose, there was my practically squib bro on the floor in a pool of his own blood and the remnants of his once magnificent crown of hair. Then, I saw the scissors laying by my feet and I just knew what the fuck to do. I must have chanelled some fucking powerful emotions because one second the scissors were laying on the floor; the next, the aforementioned kitchen accessory flew into my hand with enough force that it jerked my arm all the way back nearly pulling it out of socket. With this newly acquired weapon in hand, I lunged at Daddy Dearest.

"Get the fuck off my brother, you mammothly ill-proportioned fucktard," I barked as the scissors found their home in his shoulder blade. I used the scissors to toss him to the side. like the trash that he is, and turned to my bro. "Let's hit the fucking road and get the hell out of this goddamned no horse hellhole," I said sourly in my best Pam from  True Blood tone. I then handed him the clothes I'd grabbed on my way in, noticing that they were my fav emerald green tee and his ab fab fav pair of camel colored cargo shorts. Once he'd dawned this ensemble I tossed him the keys to my fire engine red Camero, I sweet sixteen present from Jasper, and said "If you scratch my baby you're going to with to the heaven that that fucktard had killed you," before I ran up the stairs to what had been my bedroom. I was vaguely aware of  Lestie's remark, which was something to the effect of "Do you have to be so cheeky."

I ran to the queen sized four poster bed, that had been my mother's when she was my age, pulled up the floorboards under the bed, and grabbed the duffel bag I hidden there for just such an emergency, before I ran out of the house our mother had grown up in for what I assumed to be the last time.

"Where to," Céleste asked as he put my car into drive and pulled off the moment I hopped over the door, as the hatch was still down. We'd of been shit out of luck if the car hadn't been there. I'd left it at Jasper's, but, he had had the good sense to drive the car over to me. Thank God.

"North Carolina, and like twenty fucking years ago," I said flatly as Céleste navigated his way to the highway.

"What's in North Carolina," Céleste said as he turned on the highway.

"We have an Aunt there," I said wearily.

"Dad doesn't have any family. And shouldn't we call the cops or something."

"We have two parents, you fucktard. And why do you care what happens to that over-reacting Asshole," I said in a voice too sharp even for my liking.

"Sure, I'll admit that he could have handled finding his son in bed with a vamp a whole heck of a lot differently, but, he is still our father."

"That is the fucking understatement of the century. You do realize that if I hadn't intervened when I did you'd be fucking six feet under by now."

"You can't know that he would have killed me."

"God," I all but yelled at my fucktarded brother, "Are you fucking listening to yourself right now. That man was fucking blinded by rage. His whole dame aura spoke of murder."

"You and your so-called aura reading powers. Give it a break, Sabrina the Teenage Bitch," Céleste said in an exasperated tone.

"So, did Eddie Dearest at least get to take a bite out of your brown apple," I said with a slight foxy grin gracing my face.

"Must you be so facetiously vulgar," He said with a trite and prim air about him.

"I take that as a no. Well, we all can't get lucky everyday. It'll happen for you, eventually. Maybe. But, if it hasn't happened by the time you're 30 I'm buying you a rent boy, because no brother of mine is going to be a 40 year-old virgin if I can help it."

"Casse-toi, tu connard," He said lightly. I was thinking of letting this little swear word slip up of his go, but, my bratty little brother self got the better of me.

"Aller nique ta mere et mort. Tu con de merde. Tu bâtard fils d'encule et une puté de merde dans un bordel de chie et saloperie!"

"Dude, have you so totally forgot that we come from the same parents. And when did your French get to be that good," Céleste said in a voice bordering on humorous.

"Did you just utter "Dude" and "So totally" in the same sentence," I said barely able to hold in my laughter.

"And," Céleste said slightly defensively. That funny ass look on his face was just too much for me and I burst out laughing. Céleste shortly followed me. By the time we finally stopped our fit of laughter our sides were nearly spitting from the effort.

"Well, at least we can laugh," I said to myself as I tried not to start up again.


Well, that's two chapters down. (Only 15 to go.) Thank you Rob, AKA KD, for turning me onto NVU. It's far better than doing this the good old fashioned long way. Where would we be without advancement in technology, I wonder? (I don't think I'm quite brave enough to suss that one out for myself.)

If you have any comments about this story, questions, or just criticisms (constructive ones, please) feel free to message me at: ama.nevre@gmail.com. I will attempt to reply to all messages in a timely manner (usually within a day or two of receiving it.)

Best wishes and happy extracurricular proclivities to one and all.  A.M.A.