"Oh, god, Brandon..." I moaned, as my brother stared at me, a wild look in his eyes. "We shouldn't be doing this..."
He didn't reply, but as his hand moved higher and higher up my leg, his eyes turned red with lust.
"Please..." I cried, not sure if I was begging for him to stop or keep going, and for a split second, I saw a bit of humanity return to Brandon's face.
"I need this..." he said thickly, his throat already reshaping with lust. "God, sis...I need this."
With that, his eyes turned completely animalistic, and his mouth went to my throat, gently nipping and biting - not enough to transform me, but certainly enough to leave a mark. I breathed in his heavy musk, and panted with need. My legs spread involuntarily as Brandon's claws ripped through my panties, and his thick fingers plunged into my pussy.
Against my will, my hips began thrusting forward, desperately wanting to feel Brandon inside of me. I knew how much he needed this...because I needed it too.
ONE WEEK EARLIER:
"Mom!" I cried out when I opened the shower door. "Brandon left hair everywhere again!"
"Oh, dear..." Mom said, tutting as she walked in and inspected the carpet that my step-brother had left after his shower. "I'll clean it up, darling, but do try to cut him some slack...you know the poor boy is going through a lot at the moment."
I sighed. Looked like I wasn't going to be showering before school that morning. Everyone always had such sympathy for werewolves, but no one ever thought about their families - sure, it mustn't be easy, transforming into a wolf at every full moon, but living with someone who's gone through such radical transformations is almost impossible.
Before he got bitten, Brandon was just a normal, weedy kid. We got along well enough, but there's been such a transformation in the last few weeks...it's like he's replaced every meal with steroids. He's gone from shy and stammering to confident and sexy - he never breaks eye-contact any more, and I'm starting to wonder if he ever blinks.
I walked back to my room wearing nothing but a towel, grumbling all the while. Before I could reach my door, however, I noticed another pile of hair on the carpet outside my brother's door. I rolled my eyes, and knocked on his door.
It wasn't fair for him, sure - he didn't want to be bitten - but his mistake didn't mean that the rest of us had to suffer. It wasn't fair for Mom to have to clean up after his mess all the time, and it certainly wasn't fair for him to remain unaware of the problems that his shedding was causing.
He didn't answer, but I could hear the loud thrash metal that he'd suddenly become addicted to, ever since transforming, and so I knew he was in there. I opened the door slightly, and almost gagged at the smell that met me.
Teenage boys stink - we all know that. But the smell that penetrated my nostrils was more than just BO; it was a powerful, pungent stench...it immediately made me light-headed, and seemed to draw me in. Without even noticing, I had taken more deep breaths, over and over - I wanted more of Brandon's stench, I wanted it to fill me up. I wanted to breathe nothing more for the rest of my life.
Chills ran up and down my spine as I gulped in the smell, like a thirsty man given a gallon of water. I closed my eyes to savor the experience, and when I opened them again, I was standing in the darkness. I'd been so overwhelmed by Brandon's scent that I hadn't even realized I was walking into his room, and closing the door behind me.
The thrash metal suddenly didn't seem as loud and obnoxious - in fact, the loudness of it was suddenly enticing. The bass drum provided a steady rhythm that seemed to make my whole body pump - my fists had involuntarily began to open and close to the beat, and I noticed, to my embarrassment, that my pussy had begun to throb to the rhythm as well.
It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, I suddenly noticed what Brandon was doing. He was laying on his bed, completely naked - the small amount of light peeking through the curtains bounced off the sweat on his muscles, but though I could have spent several hours staring at his new (and vastly improved) body, my attention was instead drawn to his hand.
He was masturbating. Brandon was laying on his bed, furiously pumping his fist up and down his thick, hard cock.
Now I'm no virgin, but I'm also not an expert, if you know what I mean. I've had two or three boyfriends, and yeah, maybe I've become acquainted with their cocks in that time...but I can assure you, none of them have had cocks like Brandon's. It must have been a foot long, and with every stroke, it looked like it was oozing out half a cup of pre-cum.
Again, uncontrollably, I began to step towards it. I was entranced - the smell of his sweat, combined with the loud, sticky music, and the sight of his glorious member...it overcame me, and I suffered a few moments of temporary insanity.
Without meaning to, I dropped my towel, reached out, and grasped his cock. Brandon's eyes opened in shock - I'd never seen them like that before. Since he'd been bitten, they had a strange color to them, but in that moment they were a dark, fierce red, and his fangs curled out of his mouth.
"Anna?" he said, but I didn't even notice. My mouth opened, watering, and slipped over the head of his cock, and he threw his head back and howled with pleasure.
It had been months since I'd had a boyfriend, and so I hadn't given head in a while, but I instinctively moved in time with the music, tasting my brother's hardness, breathing his musk deep into my lungs. He tasted different to the other boys I'd gone down on - tangier, somehow.
The taste of him made me wet, and when he reached down and grabbed my hair, I didn't resist.