Day 20 - Teratophilia - Scooby Doo

There was one main reason that Daphne and Velma didn’t get grouped together often, and that was put into practical demonstration when a snake dropped from the tree in front of them and slapped onto the ground. Daphne shrieked and flung herself back into the bushes, scrambling even as she backpedaled. Velma simply froze. Freezing in the middle of the woods was not exactly peak survival instinct.

Everybody reacted to fear differently. Fred tended to run toward whatever it was that was scaring him, which just as often got him in deeper trouble than he was in before. Shaggy and Scooby ran away. Just plainly, no scrambling, no diving, no screaming. Either of these forces could be powerful enough to change how you would react. When she was with Fred, Velma’s freezing turned into a useful response. She stopped and she thought. Sometimes realizing he was right, sometimes realizing he was wrong. With Shaggy and Scooby, they sometimes mistook her paralysis for bravado, then sometimes they yanked her along with them. Ultimately, in terms of fear reactions, Velma always felt like she’d gotten a bit of a short straw. Even if you framed it as her thinking through her problems, she did still deer-in-headlights her way through a lot of dangerous situations.

Daphne gradually got control of herself and emerged from where she was hiding. As if she’d been given permission, Velma shook her head. The snake was lying perfectly still.

“Look, it’s a cobra,” Velma pointed at it flatly, like a child showing off at show and tell.

“Is it dead?” Daphne asked in a strained, annoyed voice.

“It looks dead,” Velma found a stick and employed certain tried and true methods. “It’s also a long way from Egypt.”

“What’s an Egyptian cobra doing in a tree in Vermont?” Daphne didn’t seem to see the ridiculousness of her own question.

“Somebody put it there, obviously,” Velma lifted it a bit with the stick, then set it back down. “This thing has been dead for a long time, by now.”

“Do you think it’s part of this Mummy’s Curse?”

“I’m starting to think there isn’t any curse,” Velma put her hands on her hips. “There’s definitely something fishy going on, but I think the curse might be a diversion.”

“What makes you say that?” Daphne touched the snake very lightly with her shoe and then jerked her foot back sharply.

“Well, most of this curse stuff seems like a plot to get people away from the old harbor.” Velma turned to Daphne. “All of the parts that are curse-y aren’t especially threatening. Then the people who keep talking about it don’t seem to have any explanation why people are going missing.”

“You think the Curse is a cover-up for the disappearances?” Daphne looked at her only half-interested.

“I’m not even sure it’s that.” Velma shrugged. “The curse might not even be related. Or only barely related. I think the disappearances have people nervous, so some of the guys who own property down on the harbor want an excuse to abandon shop.”

“Why not just abandon shop anyway?” Daphne squinted.

“If I had to guess, I’d say the the final stage of this ‘Curse’ probably involves the harbor burning down and the shop owners collecting their insurance money.” Velma snapped her fingers for punctuation.

“Great, now all you have left to explain are the disappearances.” Daphne sounded like she was ready to be out of here.

“I’m not sure that’s my job,” Velma pushed the snake out of the path with the stick. “These sounds like run of the mill disappearances. Girls going out walking at night and not being seen again. People having their windows broken. This sounds like a job for the police.”

“All the more reason to get out of these creepy woods,” Daphne hissed between her teeth.

“I think I agree-” Velma started, then stopped. They both heard it.

Ever since they had arrived, the nights had been a near-constant call and response of wolf howls. It was to the point that the gang had started to be able to tell them apart. There was a high, skittering one that sounded like its owner was injured or running away from something. There was a low, bassy howl that ended just a second before they expected it to, like somebody was cutting it off. There was one so generic that it sounded like a stock audio clip, and there was one that sounded like the owner was trying to start a second howl midway through the first. Velma had jokingly called the first one Omega, the others had settled on calling the other three Boomer, Wolfy, and Talker. They apparently didn’t read the same online stories she did. When they had started speculating about pack dynamics, Velma had quickly shot the conversation down. Alpha-Beta-Omega dynamics were relegated to captive wolves and internet weirdos.

There were others too, but those were the main characters. They also had pretty defined speaking roles. Omega usually spoke alone, or long after the others had finished a conversation. Talker almost always spoke last. Boomer usually answered one of the others. Wolfy usually started conversations. Their jokes about what a normal conversation entailed usually ended with several repetitions of the word ‘Squirrel’ in increasingly excited voices.

Just at the edge of their hearing range was not howls, but the sound of something extremely large moving through the brush. Not a straight-line crash, but a sort of winding, circling tromp.

“Do you hear that?” Daphne hissed after a second.

“Yeah,” Velma whispered back.

“Do you think it’s one of those wolves?” Daphne was already backpedaling slowly, but the sound of whatever was moving had shifted over toward the left as well as closer. It was definitely circling.

“Maybe,” Velma gulped. “It only sounds like one, though.”

“I don’t win in a fight against any number of wolves!” Daphne yanked her sweater.

Velma started to follow her. Neither were ready to break into a run and start making too much noise, both still had their ears pricked up toward the sound. It was keeping on an even, slow spiral, but its movements were so loud that every little bit closer it got sounded like it was coming down right on top of them. She furrowed her brow, slowing down and prompting an angry tug from Daphne.

“If it’s a wolf, why is it making so much noise?” Velma whispered.

“Maybe it’s blind!” Daphne hissed in annoyance. “Maybe it wants us to know where it is. What if we taste better when we’re scared?”

“Blind, maybe,” Velma slowed down even more. “But a wolf moving solo wouldn’t want to take on both of us. And I would think us being scared would just make us… adrenaline-y.”

“You don’t know what tastes good to wolves!” Daphne stopped backpedaling enough to pull on Velma’s sweater with both hands.

“Maybe it isn’t a wolf,” Velma shrugged and slapped Daphne’s hands away. “Maybe whatever it is just wants to scare us off.”

The circling, brambly crash stopped for just a moment and the following dreadful silence suddenly seemed much louder than the noise before. Then, from exactly the spot where the sounds had stopped, a sole voice rose up in howl. A high sound which peaked in the first second and then skittered and cracked like the owner was trying to reach yet more shrill and more commanding sounds but didn’t have the register. As it came down again it was almost whimpering. Either crazed with pain or panting with the effort of its own call. There was another unbearable moment of silence when it had stopped, and then the crashing started again. Still not directly toward them, but the spiral had narrowed. Circling now like a vulture.

“Well, consider me scared off!” Daphne gave Velma a two-handed yank in a direction which was quickly going to be blocked off by the sounds.

“Can’t you hear that he’s circling us?” Velma didn’t slap her hands away, but did grab Daphne and pull her back.

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” Daphne gave her an offended look, then looked down at Velma’s grip on her, seemingly surprised by how firm it was. “We have to run!”

“Yes, but if we run that way, we’ll run right into him.” Velma hissed.

“Then what do we do?” Daphne was clearly working purely on fear and feeling.

“If we wait until he-” Velma started, then for the second time trailed off.

Right at the point where it would have cut them off, seeming to notice they weren’t running right into its trap, the wolf turned suddenly toward them and came barreling out of the underbrush. Weaving between the trees like a massive black and silver mass fired from a cannon, then stopping only feet away from them like it had run into a brick wall. Raising up onto its hind legs, the beast stood probably twice Velma’s height. Its long maw filled with teeth like bowie knives, a pair of beady but strangely expressive dark eyes buried in a face that was strangely frightened, despite its posturing. It barked and snarled and let out little stuttering howls, but came no closer.

Daphne didn’t care about how close it did or didn’t get. Right around the same time as it had come up just short of mauling them both, she dove back into the bushes behind her. Velma, of course, froze. Then as the wolf kept barking and snarling but never getting within arm’s reach, she felt the freeze of fear pass and managed to take a gasping, nervous breath. As she kept standing there, the wolf stopped snarling and barking to swipe at the air and clack its teeth in front of her. Still not crossing what seemed to be an invisible line of distance.

“Are you crazy?” Daphne yelped from the bushes and tried to pull Velma in.

“I think it knows where you are, Daphne.” Velma responded, her voice shakier than she would have liked.

Consciously, she recognized that there was probably nothing to fear. At least nothing immediate. Like swimming with sharks or standing in a sleeping lion’s cage. The creature didn’t seem disinterested in hurting her, but it seemed outright incapable of it. Still, that didn’t mean her stomach wasn’t turning in knots, that she wasn’t clenching her fists until her knuckles were white.

“Why isn’t it killing you?” Daphne slowly rose up out of the bushes. Her hair and dress had been messed up by her hard scramble into the bracken. Knowing her, Velma was surprised she wasn’t more mad about it. Daphne must have been as scared, but as under control, as she was.

“You mean why isn’t it killing us?” Velma asked a little bitterly. “I think its bark might be worse than its bite.”

“Well it certainly isn’t a normal wolf,” Daphne gulped.

“That goes without saying,” Velma reached out her hand toward it.

“Are you insane?” Daphne yanked her back. She shrieked, more loudly than perhaps she realized. “You agree that it’s not a normal wolf, and your first instinct is to pet it?”

“Well, look at it like this,” Velma shrugged away from Daphne. “If it’s a guy in a suit, he wouldn’t have stopped. If it’s some kind of animatronic or fake, I don’t think it’ll hurt me. And I don’t think mange or rabies can make a normal wolf stand up on two legs.”

“And what if it’s a real werewolf?” Daphne asked, then grimaced at her own question.

“Assuming it is, for a second,” Velma smirked just a bit. “If it’s a real werewolf, there’s probably a human in there somewhere.”

“Yeah,” Daphne sighed after a moment. “As much as I hate to tempt fate. Assuming this is a real werewolf… maybe it’s one of those betas. You know, the wolves at the bottom of the pack?”

“Omegas are at the bottom of the pack, not betas.” Velma corrected. “And normal wolves don’t actually follow that hierarchy. That’s a common myth.”

“Well, is there any reason why werewolves wouldn’t follow that hierarchy?” Daphne asked bluntly.

“Other than it not existing?” Velma scoffed.

“The same way werewolves don’t exist?” Daphne smirked.

“You know what, fair point,” Velma raised her hands. “You think you could make it respect you as an alpha?”

“By what?” Daphne shrugged. “You want me to bite it or something? Show it that I’m the boss?”

The wolf, seeming to realize that the girls weren’t running in terror from it, and still unwilling to attack them, had slunk back a bit into the brush. It was still growling and occasionally snapping its teeth at them, but increasingly this was seeming like a petulant keeping up of appearances. The more they looked at it, the more it looked underfed. Not starved, but perhaps scrawnier and less bulky than its messy mop of fur first suggested.

“Try telling it to sit or roll over, I don’t know.” Velma shrugged back. “Don’t try to out-dog a dog. You out-people it.”

“Yeah, but you have to train a dog to sit on command.” Daphne countered, seemingly nervous to acknowledge the mountain of fur and teeth that was still only a few feet away from them.

“Well, I mean, you’re realistically the alpha of the two of us,” Velma gave Daphne a little elbow. “If those are the rules we’re going by.”

“I never studied wolves,” Daphne responded disinterestedly. “What does an alpha even do?”

“I was more going by…” Velma caught herself from starting on about niche internet subcultures. “Look, just make yourself look as big and scary as possible, talk with as much confidence as you can muster, and give it a command.”

“You know what, fine.” Daphne turned to the wolf and cleared her throat, putting her hands on her hips and leaning forward just slightly before putting a little extra purr in her voice. “Sit.”

The wolf took a few steps back and kept snarling.

“That’s how you sound big and strong?” Velma raised an eyebrow.

“That’s how I sound more confident!” Daphne grumbled.

“No, like this.” Velma took a few steps toward the wolf, looked him in the eye, and put a little extra bass in her voice. “Sit boy, sit.”

It stopped snarling, lips closing and hiding the row of vicious fangs. Taking a couple steps toward her, it nervously lowered onto all fours, letting Velma reach out her hand to stroke its hair. It still had a wary, predatory look, but it also seemed like it wouldn’t challenge her.

“No way,” Daphne muttered. She reached out her hand nervously toward the wolf, it gave her a look that made her back off.

“See, you’re not trying to seduce it, you’re trying to command it.” Velma stroked the wolf’s messy fur casually. “Let her pet you, boy.”

“I wasn’t trying to seduce it.” Daphne grumbled as she stuck out her hand again, this time the wolf allowed her to touch it.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re smaller than it. With actual wolves, the ones they identified as alphas were usually the parents of the other wolves. With the stories…”

“Oh, suddenly you’re the wolf expert?” The malice wasn’t there in Daphne’s voice. She seemed to overjoyed at the fear dissipating as they kept stroking the wolf.

“I mean… I guess I am.” Velma shrugged. “Assuming it actually is a werewolf that follows made-up Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, I’ve probably read more about it than you.”

“Is this one of those weird internet sex things?” Daphne gave her a look.

“It’s not… not one of them.” Velma winced.

“Since you’re giving it commands, what, is it like, your sex **** now?” Daphne teased.

“No,” Velma responded flatly. “If we’re pretending for a second that… any of this… is real, this might just be an Omega. There’s no way in hell I’m an Alpha. We’re both probably Betas.”

“This all sounds… made up,” Daphne said with fake politeness.

“Yeah it’s… look, people took an old, disproven scientific theory about wolves and turned it into an excuse to make boys kiss and get each other pregnant.” Velma scratched the back of her head. “People… do that.”

“I like boys kissing as much as anyone, that just seems like a lot of hoops to jump through for it.” Daphne commented as she scratched the wolf behind the ears.

“You’re telling me.” Velma shrugged. “It’s kinda fun, though.”

“So like, since you’re in control of it, if you commanded it to…” Daphne trailed off meaningfully and raised his eyebrows.

“Are you a werewolf girl or something?” Velma gave her a look.

“You aren’t?” Daphne asked innocently. “I thought you were the one reading all these stories…”

“It’s not really werewolves in the story, per se.” Velma started to correct, then stopped herself. “Look, I have the same fantasies as anybody, but-”

“Well, if you do, then come on.” Daphne pushed. “Command it to like… show off, or something.”

“Seriously?” Velma stopped petting the wolf and turned to Daphne.

“We have a werewolf here and under our command,” Daphne turned to her. “You don’t want to at least… see?”

“I mean…” Velma started, then swallowed heavily. “Okay boy, roll over.”

The wolf perked its head up at the command, then obeyed almost instantly. It fell over onto its side with a crunching of underbrush and then flopped and wriggled onto its back. Looking down at them from between its legs, its face was one of nervous interest. It didn’t know why this woman who was commanding it wanted it to roll over, but it would roll over for her. Between its rear legs, decently hidden in a thick patch of fur, was a sheath above a shaggy pair of balls. Without even waiting for Velma, Daphne reached out and grabbed the sheath, wrapping her hand around it.

“Daphne!” Velma hissed.

“Well you had it roll over!” Daphne protested. “I thought we were doing that to… you know…”

“I didn’t think you’d just reach out and grab it!” Velma huffed.

“Well what did you expect me to do?” Daphne’s hand was still gripping the sheath firmly. “Just stand there and nod my head when I saw it had balls?”

Daphne casually squeezed and loosened her hand on the sheath as she talked. Velma watched as the wolf’s balls jumped a little in his sack, his tongue starting to peek just a little from between his teeth. A tiny red tip was emerging from the end of the sheath, and Daphne could definitely see it too. Her hand hadn’t moved from where she’d put it. If anything, it seemed to be squeezing and releasing more rapidly, like she was trying to pump up a balloon.

“Jinkies,” Velma finally muttered. She reached out too.

Grabbing the wolf’s large, furry balls in her hand, Velma gulped. For some reason, her heart was pounding much more rapidly now than it had when they were being chased. Each ball was almost pineapple-sized, and they felt red-hot. They also felt thick as bricks, nearly as heavy too. Shifting one hand from his balls to the emerging red shaft, she started to rub her palm on the tip of it. She could feel a slick, oily wetness sticking to her skin. As the thin, ruby-red tip emerged, it was already dripping.

“He seems excited,” Daphne sounded downright comfortable with what they were doing.

“If he’s an Omega, he’s probably pretty pent up.” Velma murmured.

“Aw, poor puppy,” Daphne shifted her other hand to the sheath and started to squeeze with both of them.

“This isn’t a puppy, this is a nine-foot tall monster,’ Velma turned to her.

“Yeah, but the nine-foot tall monster rolls over when you tell it to.” Daphne responded casually. “I think he’s cute.”

“...This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, is it?” Velma asked after a moment’s thought.

“This is the first time I’ve done it with a real werewolf,” Daphne’s voice was defensive.

“And how many other kinds of monsters have you had casual sex with, exactly?”

“Well, considering we don’t find real monsters most of the time. And considering Fred usually splits up with me…” Daphne mused idly. “Five.”

“Five!” Velma yelped. Then paused. “The yeti was one of them, wasn’t it?”

“Was it that obvious?” Daphne mumbled and turned away.

“You refused to sit down the whole train ride home,” Velma teased. “And I think you were blushing literally the entire time.”

“I was not!” Daphne scoffed.

Enough of the wolf’s cock had emerged from his sheath that Daphne moved her hands. One wrapped around the red, veiny rod that had started to emerge and pumped it with a delicate flicking of her wrist. Her other hand cupped the ball that Velma wasn’t squeezing. Her movements were so dainty-looking, but also so effortless-seeming, that Velma didn’t doubt she had done this kind of thing before.

“The better question,” Daphne asked with fake innocence, “Is if you’ve done it before.”

“What, with a monster?” Velma frowned.

“Yeah,” Daphne responded. “Apparently you read enough about it online.”

“Okay, yeah, but…” Velma grumbled. “Most of the monsters we meet aren’t exactly monsters.”

“Exactly why, when you find a real one, you have to take the opportunity,” Daphne leaned forward and quickly scratched the wolf’s stomach until his leg started kicking against the air happily.

“I just… don’t really think about it like that…” Velma’s frown deepened.

“Wait, are you one of those people who has no problem with porn, but clams up the second any sort of real sex is on the table?” Daphne went back to stroking the wolf.

“A bit,” Velma admitted. “I kinda… freeze up.”

“You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“No,” Velma shook her head. “A monster virgin, sure.”

“You had no problem with this.” Daphne gestured, a strange-looking effort with a cock still in her hand.

“I’m choosing to look at this like you peer-pressured me into it.” Velma smirked.

“Okay, can I peer pressure you into… putting it in your mouth, then?” Daphne smirked back, more intensely.

“I.. woah… no,” Velma pulled her hands back. “That’s… I mean… it’s unsanitary, for one.”

“Really?” Daphne leaned forward and casually licked up from the end of the sheath to the tapered tip of the wolf’s cock. “Taste’s clean enough to me.”

“Holy…” Velma muttered.

“Come on, live a little,” Daphne waved the wolf’s cock toward Velma. “It’d be hot, wouldn’t it?”

“Sure…” Velma muttered, reaching out again. “Just… intimidating.”

“Here, let me give you a little pro-tip.” Daphne pulled her hands away and put them together like she was going to boost Velma up. “If you climb up onto his stomach and face me, you can do it a lot easier.”

Velma froze for a long couple of seconds. The wolf’s cock was now almost fully out of his sheath, she could see the red, oversized bulge of his knot starting to strain against his dark fur. A clear bead of pre-cum running from the narrow tip of his increasingly swollen, veiny shaft. She wasn’t going to get very far down. Even if she’d been some kind of gag reflex queen, he was nearly as thick as a fist, even before the knot factored into things.

Then she swallowed her pride, rolled her eyes, and stepped into Daphne’s hand. Taking the boost up onto the wolf’s torso, she turned and exposed her rear to him before sitting down and leaning forward onto her elbows. Grabbing his cock with both hands above where the knot was straining, she guided the thin tip of his cock to her lips, then past them. Immediately, a wet, slightly dirty taste filled her mouth and made her wince. It wasn’t unbearable, but it seemed to be seeping into the back of her throat in a way that would never come back out now that it was in. Velma bobbed her head a bit in place, feeling the thin tip touch the back of her throat. Daphne mimed a couple of motions for pushing past her gag reflex, then went back to massaging the wolf’s balls.

She nearly jumped when she felt hot, wet breath on her backside, but a second later a large wet tongue started to flick against her crotch through her panties. Velma shuddered, feeling a rush of goosebumps. It wasn’t an ideal sensation, but there was certainly some pleasure in among the… slobber of it.

As the knot fully emerged, Daphne leaned forward and started to lick and kiss around it, continuing to massage his balls with her hands. Velma slid her head up and down, feeling her jaw stretch to a point where it didn’t matter how good or bad her gag reflex was. She pumped the wolf’s cock above his knot with both hands.

The slobbery, hot sensation of the wolf’s tongue stopped and then suddenly, the high sound of his howl started. Velma realized she was going to have to make a split-second decision whether or not she wanted a thick mouthful of wolf batter. For once, she didn’t freeze. She jerked her head up off of him. Daphne seemed to grasp what was going on, because she expertly pointed his cock out nearly ninety degrees to the side, continuing to kiss the knot and stroke him with one hand.

His shaft gave a massive, powerful jump and a yellowish-white gush of gooey, thick cum spattered out onto the bushes to their side. Immediately, the smell of it in the air made Velma think she’d made the right choice. Watching it drip down the leaves thick as honey, she doubled down on that opinion. Then as it kept coming, gush after gush after gush, seemingly as much as a couple pints, she tripled down.

Daphne watched in a sort of lusty amusement from where she had her lips pressed against his throbbing knot. It sounded like he was spraying a hose into the underbrush with each swell. His massive balls leaping up against her chest as they did. The wolf’s howl became a gurgling, happy whine.

When he was finally done, he leaned forward and started to lick Velma’s backside again. As Daphne unpinned his cock, she dabbed a little of his seed from the tip and tasted it.

“Yech!” She spat. “I’d say you made the right choice. This stuff is like… it tastes like wet dog smells.”

“And considering he probably would have drowned me in it…” Velma trailed off, then kissed the tip of the wolf’s deflating cock, getting just the smallest taste of what Daphne was talking about.

“Still, I applaud you for actually trying it.” Daphne stuck out her hands to help Velma down.

“Yeah, I don’t know-” Velma trailed off.

Around them, far closer than they would have liked, they heard a couple more howls answering. First Wolfy, then Boomer, then Talker. One or two others mixed in. Their wolf gave a half-hearted howl back, which prompted up a new conversation. Not only were they close, they were getting closer.

“That sounds like the rest of the pack,” Velma squeaked in fright.

“We should smell like one of theirs, right?” Daphne whispered back.

“Well, if we smell like… the Omega…” Velma gulped. “They’re going to be… territorial…”

“Are they gonna eat us?” Daphne yelped.

“Not exactly.” Velma shuddered. “More like… we’re about to live out several of your fantasies… Consecutively…”

If you liked this chapter, vote for it to be continued here!