5 Ch 5 A Father/Son Talk (2/2)

He took a deep breath, giving me one more glance before fixing his gaze out the window. He kept one hand on my shoulder to keep me from going anywhere, the other hand splayed across the kitchen counter as he explained how I should use his purchase.

I looked in the bag, extremely mortified by the boxes of condoms in there. Closing the bag tight, I tried to get away, quickly realizing I couldn't, not without physically fighting him. His grip on my shoulder pushed between the muscles. My attempt to move caused him to tighten his grip even more. I tried not to wince as the hint of claw tips pressed into my shoulder muscles.

His talk continued into female anatomy, the basics of method, the reason certain motions were more intense than others as they stimulated pleasure points, areas to focus on. I was totally embarrassed. Most of it I knew.

He finally changing his lecture to the proper care needed to control my passions to avoid the wolf, the use of scents placed about the room to minimize the female odor, how the desire for smells would temp me to do at least a partial shift; how the desire to taste might overwhelm me as my tongue sought action, threatening to bring out the wolf.

Beyond embarrassed. Mortified. Locked into place by the death grip on my shoulder.

He started in again with the caution I should use to avoid a pregnancy I might never be made aware of, one that, even if terminated without my knowledge, might provide too much information to today's sciences.

His eyes never looked away from the window, he never loosened his grip on my shoulder, and I could feel a slight trembling in that grip. His voice was steady however, as it just kept droning on, going into more details than I really wanted to know.

Let me just die now! My slight squirm had the curve of his claws pushing deeper into my muscles.

He spoke of the wolf, being with another wolf.

Fascination coupled with embarrassment, knowing he was speaking of experience with my mom... or had he been with real wolves at some point? I really didn't want to know, even as I did want to know. This slow death by embarrassment was torture!

He went on to describe how the wolf reacted to certain things, especially a human woman in heat. I tried to protest that one, claiming to have been around plenty of girls in high school and college, but his claws ripped my, well his, shirt that I was wearing, his grip pressing deeper into skin, but still not drawing blood.

”They do,” he said, still keeping his gaze fixated on the tree outside the window, while his free hand had claw tips digging into the wooden counter, ”just differently than animals. There is that period when the egg is released, right before her menstruation begins, when a human woman is most likely to conceive. You'll notice when you start getting... intense, with a woman. Her body releases pheromones too subtle for a human to identify, but the wolf within you will want to breed. The last thing you want to do is become a rapist. So just keep listening.”

And he went on. And on. I went from mortified to embarrassed to fascinated back to mortified and embarrassed many times during that very long, mostly one-sided talk.

He finished by withdrawing his hand from my shoulder, patting it a few times, giving a more fatherly squeeze to my shoulder, as he finally told me to go put the now very, very crumpled bag in my hand away.