Ben had made it to the bar, almost overwhelmed by the decadence. He'd only been in the club a few minutes, and he'd already seen several guys getting head. Still, he couldn't shake a feeling he'd had since they'd arrived, a feeling that SOMETHING wasn't right. This was California, not some magical fantasy land, and strippers still weren't allowed to give head.
He got to the bar, asking the bartender for another beer. She was a smoking-hot redhead, whose whole demeanor oozed sex.
She slid the beer to him with a smile, one that had a come-hither aspect to it.
"You single?" she suddenly asked him, coming out from behind the bar, sitting down on the stool next to him.
"Yeah," replied Ben. He was entranced by her, unable to take his eyes off of her. They made idle chitchat for a bit, and he found himself wishing that she'd get on her knees for him the way that the other girls were doing for his friends.
Then the six girls (from the previous chapter) made their way to the center of the room and transformed before Ben's eyes into werewolves. "We've got to hide...we've got to go NOW!" the redhead said, grabbing Ben, dragging him off the stool, and back behind the bar.
Peering above the bar, Ben was privy to the chaos that continued. Ben saw his friends, Jeff and David, joining the shewolves, fucking them, abandoning themselves to the change. The other men who'd gotten blowjobs were doing likewise. Now there were twelve werewolves stalking the place. Ben couldn't help but feel like a sitting duck.
"Now's our chance!" the redhead told him, grabbing his arm again, this time leading him up a staircase, onto a balcony that overlooked the floor of the club. "At least we've bought ourselves some time."
"What the fuck's happening?" Ben asked, confused.
"Are you fucking stupid?" The redhead asked him. "They're werewolves...they're going to infect or kill everyone in here."
"But there's no moonlight!" argued Ben. "There has to be moonlight!"
"Energy...that's all it takes...energy," she explained, "Sexual energy. Infection requires only a bit or a deep scratch, but once they've been infected, all it takes is orgasming or tasting orgasmic fluid. Just look if you don't believe me."
Ben looked down again, and saw she was right, no matter how hard he wished to believe otherwise. One of the still-human dancers was on her knees in front of the bouncer, whose body was shuddering as it sprouted black fur, and his clothing ripped.
Two other dancers writhed on the floor, fingers buried inside themselves, their faces already stretching into muzzles. Two werewolves Ben recognized as Jeff and David were feasting on the remnants of a human body. Ben wasn't sure if they were lucky or if the victim was the luckier.
"But if everyone who works here is a werewolf, that means.." Ben trailed off, looking at his redheaded savior with a combination of fear and suspicion.
"Yeah," said the redhead, staring at him with bright yellow eyes. "I'm running out of time...the musk smell is getting to me. All the musk...all the musk...so...much.." She began to hike up her skirt, revealing her lack of panties. Her fingers began to reach closer to her shaven mound... "No!" she said, "I can control it...there's a medicine cabinet in the office up here. We need to get to it, and FAST!"