As you continue through your second Black Wolf beer (more lapping the enchanted alcohol with a thick tongue than actually tipping it back), an enticing scent wafts into your blackening, cold nose.
Your gaze follows the aroma, and your eyes (turning a slow shade of amber) focus on an extremely attractive human woman across the bar. She fidgets with the collar of her blouse, looking a bit hot as she undoes the scrunchie holding back her thick raven-black hair. She looks nervous, frightened of the surreal activity around her, yet too fascinated to try escaping it.
The words “mate” and “bitch” come to your animalistically altered mind. An erection makes its presence known (sliding from the sheath you’ve always had) as you idly notice she has yet to be served by the bartender. You hold up a claw and growl for the barkeep.
“Ready for your third?” the barkeep smirks, as he wipes down a glass. “It’s on the house, you know.”
“Definitely,” you growl, trying to articulate around the sharp ends of your teeth. “And I’d like to get one for the lady at the end of the bar.”
The barkeep steals a glance toward her. He whistles in awe. “She’s quite the looker. You’ve got excellent taste, my lupine friend.”
You nod and lick your lips, not realizing you have to lick a bit further forward along the slowly growing muzzle.
Seconds later, you begin working on your third Black Wolf, pleasantly buzzed from the trifecta of alcohol, transformation, and arousal. You watch the tender present the woman with a full Black Wolf beer, telling her it’s from you even though it’s complements of the house. She looks over at you, and you groggily wave a paw-like hand in the air.
The bartender walks by you, and winks as he passes. “You and your bitch try not to get into too much trouble, ‘kay?” he whispers, trying not to laugh too hard. You return a wolfish grin.
Apprehensively, the woman eyes the drink, unsure of what to do…