Step inside and let the pack have you — both trick and treat, all eight of them.

5 Breedmore Lane, Maplewood Suburbs, at 12:25 AM on Saturday November 1, 2024

I step across the threshold and the bass hits my chest like a heartbeat. The door closes behind me — Trent's clawed hand on the small of my back, guiding me into the frat house's living room where the other wolves are waiting in a loose semicircle.

"Both," I say, my voice barely audible over the music. "I want both."

Trent's grin splits his face — those elongated canines catching the strobe light. "You heard her, boys. Treat first. Then trick."

They descend on me like worshipers at an altar. Jax's massive hands find my shoulders, kneading the tension from muscles I didn't know were clenched. Fenris drops to his knees in front of me, his red beard scratching deliciously against my inner thighs as he presses his face between my legs, inhaling deeply.

"Seven loads," he growls against the latex, his hot breath seeping through the crotch panel. "I can smell every single one. Derek — musky, alpha. Marco — cedar oil. Two brothers, same blood. And something else... something that glows." His tongue drags across the pulled-aside panel and finds my swollen, cum-glazed slit. He licks a broad stripe from perineum to clit and I shriek — the ghost-cum amplification turning his rough tongue into a live wire directly connected to my brainstem.

"Hold her steady," Trent commands, and four pairs of hands grip my arms, my waist, my thighs — spreading me open, holding me upright as Fenris devours my pussy with animal enthusiasm. His tongue plunges inside, scooping cum from my channel, growling with pleasure as he tastes the mixture of men and spirits. His beard is soaked within seconds, white fluid matting the red hair.

A fifth wolf — lean, dark-haired, with amber eyes and a scar across his jaw — appears at my left. "Gideon," he introduces, before his mouth closes around my nipple through the latex, teeth grazing the sensitive peak. The material is thin enough that I feel everything — the heat of his mouth, the sharp drag of his canines, the suction that sends jolts straight to my clit.

A sixth — broad, blonde, impossibly tall — mirrors him on my right. "Soren," he murmurs against my breast, before his tongue circles my other nipple through the latex.

I'm drowning in sensation. Fenris's tongue is inside me, lapping at my walls, his nose grinding against my clit. Gideon and Soren are working my breasts with hungry mouths. Hands — I can't count how many — are running over every inch of latex-covered skin, finding the gaps at my shoulders, my thighs, touching bare flesh and making me gasp.

The orgasm builds with terrifying speed — the ghost cum turning every nerve ending into a detonator. Fenris seals his lips around my clit and sucks hard, two thick fingers plunging into my cum-slicked channel, curling against my front wall, and I explode. My knees buckle. The wolves holding me upright don't let me fall — they grip tighter, keeping me spread and exposed as my pussy convulses around Fenris's fingers, cum and squirt gushing around his knuckles.

"That's one," Trent says, watching from a few feet away, his cock already straining against his jeans — the outline massive, pulsing. "But the treat's not done yet. We haven't even gotten you naked."

Jax's claws find the zipper at the back of the bunny suit. "Let's fix that."

The latex peels away from my sweat-damp skin with a wet sound, revealing inch after inch of pale flesh — small breasts with hard pink nipples, the flat plane of my stomach, the curve of my hips. The suit pools at my feet and I stand naked except for my boots, seven loads of cum still dripping down my inner thighs, my skin flushed and trembling in the strobe-lit room.

Eight wolves circle me. Eight pairs of amber eyes. Eight cocks being freed from jeans — all of them thick, veined, pulsing with heat I can feel from feet away. Trent's is the first fully exposed — nine inches of flushed, rigid flesh with a swollen base that's thicker than the shaft, a bulging knot of tissue that promises devastating stretch.

"Trick time, bunny," Trent growls, stepping forward. His cock bobs heavily, pre-cum beading at the slit. "On your knees. The whole pack gets a turn at that throat before we breed you."

I sink to my knees on the sticky frat-house carpet, surrounded by eight werewolves, their cocks at eye level — a forest of thick, knotted flesh — and my mouth is already watering.