Slow Burn of the Wolf: Saving a Son

WEDNESDAY

"Andy, sit down here for a second. You're eighteen and a man now, and you'll be on your own at college soon. I just want to tell you...you know you can tell me anything, right? Absolutely anything. I'll always love and support you. You know that, right?"

"Yea, dad. Thanks. Can I go now?"

"Andy.... I know about the knot," I said, trying to be matter-of-fact.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about," he barked, having lost his poker face. "Look, I gotta go." He grabbed his baseball cap and book bag and sailed out the door, slamming it behind him.

Fuck. I knew that wasn't going to go well.

Andy's mom had bolted, too, right after he was born. The thicker-than-normal black hair on his tiny body was all the proof she needed that his real father's genes weren't dormant. Fortunately, my own hairiness, stemming from my Greek and Italian ancestry, answered whatever questions people had about how such a young man could have such a thick mat on his chest, arms, legs and back. "We're Mediterranean!" I'd joke. What else could it be?

For a long time, I thought the werewolf traits would be minimal, manifesting themselves only in his body hair, muscular and athletic frame, extraordinary vision and sense of smell. Oh, and a larger than average penis. Hehe. "So he'll grow up to be a champion on the field and in the bedroom," I thought. "Nothing wrong with that."

Although a full moon didn't seem to affect him (to my great relief), something worse did as he got older -- his hormones and instinct to breed.

Andy and I had a discussion years ago about the birds and the bees, but I never asked him if he had lost his virginity. I just assumed he had, because he was intensely interested in girls and went on dates. Yet, he was moody and restless after an evening with a girl, and the dates often ended badly. "She's not right for me!" he'd snap before locking himself in his room. "Just leave me alone, okay?"

And then I saw it.

It was a Saturday morning a few weeks ago. I quietly snuck into his room to grab his dirty laundry. He was sound asleep on his back and uncovered by the sheet which he had kicked off. Much to my embarrassment, he had had a wet dream, and his still rigid, yet softening, penis had slipped out of the fly of his boxer shorts and was gradually coming to rest against his leg. My stomach churned when I realized that what looked like a large tub of yogurt dumped onto his leg and mattress was actually ungodly amounts of semen, which permeated the room with an earthy, barnyard smell. As riveting as all that cum was, my attention quickly turned to his dick head which had the same general mushroom shape of every other guy's but was significantly larger, about the size of a small orange, and the edges of the crown flared out more than an inch from the shaft and were ringed with small spikes. Spikes!

"What the fuck?" I said under my breath as I took a closer look, feeling creepy and awkward in the process. I immediately imagined how that head would lock into place in a vagina or anus (after a difficult entry) and be next to impossible to remove before the penis had gone flaccid. The design was scary yet impressive, like a cock crossed with a medieval mace. My own penis seemed woefully inadequate, like a pinky compared to a fist.

I left the laundry on the floor and tiptoed out, reassessing my boy's predicament. His behavior made sense to me now, and I felt a wave of sympathy. I recalled in flashes the various times we'd be around girls in the mall or elsewhere and he'd lock his eyes on them like prey, wrinkle his nose as he inhaled the scent between their legs, and then grow agitated and moody. I knew he was horny and frustrated like other young men, but I didn't realize how much so -- or why.

Now I knew. My son is an 18 year old virgin, he needs pussy badly, and he's afraid of his own cock -- and for good reason. And what about all that cum?! Jesus. If he shoots his load with that knot locked into a girl's mouth, she'll friggin' drown!

I considered telling him that he's part werewolf but decided against it, fearing it would only add another problem for him to deal with. Plus, would he believe me? Instead, I resolved to help him get laid.

He needed to have sex.

No, to fuck.

No, to beast fuck, whatever that entailed.

I knew that his scary dick head may not be the only changes that come over him when his wolf nuts are firing testosterone on all cylinders, but I had no idea what they might be. And there was only one way to find out. The beast in my son needed to be let loose in a controlled burn before a spark ignited a blaze that engulfed him and god-only-knows who else.

FRIDAY

"Hey, buddy," I said as I rubbed Andy's shoulder. "It's gonna be alright. Seriously. You're kinda like a super hero!"

Andy was slumped over beside me on the couch, his elbows on his knees and his head resting in his hands. He stared at the carpet as we talked. "I'm a freak, dad."

After his emotions calmed, we were able to talk about his worries about his body and anxieties over girls. We both agreed that going to a physician wasn't a good idea. Whereas I feared the discovery of his wolf biology, he feared a doctor recommending surgery on his dick or being displayed in a medical journal. So, no doctors. We'd handle this ourselves.

"Andy, I know this sounds nuts," I said, trying not to smile, "but would you consider.... fucking a cow or horse?" I actually let out a laugh at how insane that sounded. He's half wolf, so it's not totally beastiality or crazy!

"WHAT?! You want me to have sex with a cow?! Are you insane? Why would you ask that?!"

The look of disgust on his face embarrassed me. "I'm sorry! I know it's disgusting but I figured that maybe it'd give you a chance to try out your stuff in a neutral environment to kinda know what you're dealing with. Rural guys do it all the time." I tried again to stifle a laugh. This is like a comedy routine.

"You really do think I'm a freak if you think I have to fuck cattle!" He bolted off the couch and headed again for the door.

"Andy, wait!" I said. "I have to tell you something about you. And your real father."