Night of the Werewolves
Copyright© 2026 by Tristan Tharp
Chapter 2
Horror Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Flynn hoped his life of humiliation under the tyranny of his overbearing stepfather would end when he reached his 18th birthday. It didn't. Crossing that milestone only brought him to the strange world of his new boarding school. Within its walls were a coven of witches, a succubus, assorted monsters of indescribable species, and... of course... werewolves. He'd thought he had no privacy before. Now his privacy, and his body, are being continually violated in ways he could never have imagined.
Caution: This Horror Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/Fa Ma/Ma mt Mult Blackmail Coercion Consensual Drunk/Drugged Mind Control NonConsensual Rape Reluctant Gay BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Horror Humor School Paranormal Magic Were animal Demons Humiliation Spanking Gang Bang Anal Sex Enema Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Violence
The morning came with a miserable headache, but staying in bed for the day as he usually did under similar circumstances wasn’t an option this time. Today was to be his first day at his new school.
He was bitter about being exiled to Bramstock Prep for his final year of high school. Mom assured him it was the best school in the country ... maybe the world ... and had been for hundreds of years. Flynn had his doubts. He’d never even heard of the place. After an extensive internet search, he still had never heard of it. There was no reference to it anywhere. That was disturbing. Everything was on the internet ... everything except Bramstock Prep. The most venerable institution in the history of time didn’t seem to even exist.
The bedroom door slammed open with a sound that drove a spike through Flynn’s already aching head. Stepdad, appareled in his usual anachronistic layers of old world gray tweed, barged into his room like a rampaging bull, bellowing at him without preamble to get his lazy butt out of bed.
Stepdad hadn’t knocked before entering, of course. Bulls don’t knock. They’re also big. And muscular. And imposing. Even if Flynn hadn’t been just a little on the skinny side and wasn’t at the shorter end of average height for a young man, he would’ve been intimidated by this huge, powerful figure. Stepdad was everyhting Flynn was not. The man was aggressively masculine. His brutally handsome face was adorned with thick sideburns that would’ve been more at home in the nineteenth century. They reached all the way down to his firm jawline, covering half his face and giving him the terrifying look of a dangerous predator in the wild.
Flynn’s baby face, with its soft, scant layer of peach fuzz, would never terrify anyone. Or even arouse anyone, he feared. No one would ever see him as threatening or powerful.
Stepdad, his antithesis, wasn’t just powerful in the physical sense. On a typical day, one of his rampages could trample entire corporations into the dirt. Thousands of lives could be irrevocably altered. Careers could be ruined. Livelihoods lost.
People could even die beneath the hooves of a bull. By sneaking around and spying for years, Flynn knew enough about Stepdad’s business dealings to know that sometimes his adversaries didn’t come through his ruthless negotiations alive.
Flynn clenched his eyes shut and burrowed deeper into the blankets as Stepdad towered over him. He hated how the man intimidated him.
“Go away,” he said miserably, not expecting compliance.
Stepdad’s rumbling bass voice responded, “You’ve been wishing for that since the day I married your mother. What makes you think it’ll happen today?”
“I wished for it long before the marriage.”
Stepdad said, “Yes, true. You never tried to hide it. I’ll give you that much credit. Now ... get out of bed. Your new school awaits.”
“Yes ... about Bramstock. Are you sure about this? Do you know for a fact it even exists? I can’t find any reference to it anywhere. I’m thinking this may be some kind of scam. I’m sure the tuition was outrageous. Someone may just be trying to take your money.”
Stepdad brusquely waved this aside.
“Bramstock is so elite, it doesn’t need to advertise. The rich and powerful know it exists, and they’re the only ones who matter.”
From deep beneath the illusion of safety his blankets provided, Flynn said, “It may not need to advertise, but people talk. Surely someone in the generations of graduates would post something about it on social media.”
Stepdad scoffed. “And nothing matters if it isn’t on Faceplace, or whatever that ridiculous cesspool of self-indulgence is called. You’ll find out one day that what truly matters remains discreet. It’s in the background that the strings are pulled.”
Flynn groaned. This had all the signs of another interminable sermon on the nature of the world. Luckily ... or not ... Stepdad was too impatient for lectures.
“Now let’s get you out of bed and bathed. You want to make a good impression. Not that you ever do, but I’m an eternal optimist. Get out of bed, Flynn.”
The tone of voice on that last sentence changed. It was a command, and Stepdad’s commands were to be obeyed.
Unfortunately, Flynn had made disobedience a mission under his stepfather’s rule, even when there was no reason beyond rebellion for its own sake. Even when the foreseeable consequences were to his own detriment.
Burrowing deeper under the covers and peeking out at Stepdad warily, he said, “That let’s makes it sound like you’re going to be directly involved in the bathing process.”
“Flynn, I haven’t personally bathed you for years.”
“Try two weeks ago.”
Stepdad heaved a huge sigh. “That’s because you were staggering around drunk in the gardens ... in the middle of the night ... in the rain ... and wallowed around in the mud like a pig. Your mother ... too kindly for her own good ... didn’t want you to be embarrassed by the staff having to clean you up ... yet again.”
Flynn said angrily, “I didn’t wallow. I slipped and fell. And I ended up rolling over a few times trying to get up. That special booze you try to keep hidden is way too strong. It ought to be against the law.”
“It is,” Stepdad said. “That’s why it’s hidden. But you’ve always been a terrier. Nothing is safe around you. Don’t think I didn’t notice you raided my even more exclusive stock last night. This is one of the many reasons you’re going to Bramstock ... to keep your little wet nose out of places it doesn’t belong. If you weren’t my stepson, I would’ve long since had you...”
Stepdad didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Flynn’s little wet nose had uncovered some disturbing things, and Stepdad knew it. Flynn knew what the man was capable of.
“No,” Stepdad said, holding up his hand. “I take that back. I didn’t mean it. You ARE my stepson. I’d call you my son if you didn’t fuss about it so much. I’m actually ... inexplicably ... fond of you ... rebellious brat that you are. Not only that, I wouldn’t deprive your mother of her defective little darling. I’m hoping the discipline at Bramstock will do you good. There’s also, I admit, a punitive aspect to your enrollment. You’re a troublesome boy, Flynn. You have a lot to account for. And Bramstock won’t be nearly so forgiving of your misbehavior as I’ve been.”
Flynn let out a bitter laugh. “Forgiving? My sore butt cheeks haven’t forgiven you for all the spankings over the years. No one I know at school gets spankings, especially not at my age. No one does that anymore. It’s called child abuse. And besides, I’m no longer a child. I’m an adult as of yesterday, so you can’t do it anymore anyway. You don’t spank adults.”
Stepdad looked amused. “Do you really think I won’t turn you over my knee and spank your little bare bottom right here and now? You’re still the same misbehaving child you were yesterday and the day before. The idea that an eighteenth birthday suddenly turns a boy into a man is ludicrous. I can demonstrate how little your supposed adulthood means to me if you’d like.”
He raised a hand in a significant way.
In a tiny voice, Flynn said, “Ummmmm ... nope. I’m fine. Back to an earlier topic ... you’re not going to bathe me, are you?”
“No. I should. But I’ll be in attendance in a supervisory capacity only. You just can’t be trusted. When you’re left on your own, you spend ninety percent of your time in the tub masterbating. Cleanliness is a secondary consideration. Today is an important day. You will not be your usual grungy self.”
Flynn objected. “I do not ... do that thing you said ... in the tub.”
He was well aware that Stepdad knew he was lying. The man had barged into the bathroom and caught him in the act far too many times. Once discovered, Flynn would have to sit there with his knees up to cover the penis sticking up like a submarine’s periscope from the soapy water. Once aroused, his penis never softened till the deed was done. Stepdad would lecture him about his preoccupation with self-induced orgasms and how all that energy could be routed into areas of self-improvement. When that speech ran its course, Stepdad would launch into whatever subject had brought him into the bathroom in the first place ... the subject that apparently couldn’t wait till Flynn was in a less private place engaged in a less private activity.
Stepdad continued. “I let you be your scruffy, barely washed self most of the time, so I don’t want to hear any complaints this morning. Now... get out of bed.”
This time the tone was not to be ignored.
As Flynn crawled out of bed, he said resentfully, “Did I mention that I’m eighteen now? That’s supposed to mean something. It would for anyone but a tyrant like you. Why does marrying my mother give you the right to boss me around even when I’m an adult? How does that work?”
“It works because I have the power to make it work. You, on the other hand, are weak. And, much to your resentment and my oftentimes regret, that marriage and your adoption made you my son.” He held a hand up quickly as Flynn started to object. “Excuse me... stepson.”
Flynn quoted in his passable Stepdad voice, “And while you’re under my roof, you’ll do as I say.”
“Close, but not quite. You’ll always do as I say, Flynn. No matter where you are or how old you are. You’re flighty and directionless. You need a firm hand to guide you. I took on that responsibility when I married your mother.”
As Flynn stood awkwardly in his underwear ... white briefs that were no longer even remotely white ... Stepdad glanced over at the bed, assessing the condition of the mattress cover. Seeing the expected evidence of self-pleasure, he grimaced and looked away.
Flynn cringed. He was embarrassed by his habitual messiness, especially when it came to his mother, stepfather, housecleaning staff, or sometimes his two younger sisters seeing something as intimate as what he left on his sheets. But embarrassment wasn’t enough to provoke a change in his entrenched behavior. Years before, he’d become so slovenly and unhygienic as a way to irritate his inflexible and overly fastidious stepfather. Now those qualities were an indelible part of his nature.
“Stop staring at the floor like a sulky boy and look at me.”
Flynn reluctantly looked up at Stepdad’s face. The eyes that stared back at him seemed unnaturally, inhumanly bright. They were always like that when Stepdad was angry. It was just another way the man unnerved him.
“Take off those grubby, nasty underpants and throw them in the trash. You’ve been sleeping in them for a month without having them washed.”
Flynn asked, “How would you even know that?”
“I keep track of everything that goes on under my roof. You should know that by now. Get rid of them.”
“I like them. They’re comfortable,” Flynn said.
They actually weren’t. They were stiff and scratchy with dried secretions, but Flynn’s compulsion of resist and deny was ingrained.
“Flynn.” Stepdad’s voice was almost a growl.
With a petulant, wordless noise, Flynn started peeling his underwear off. He did it gingerly, as they were stuck to the sensitive skin of his penis with the residue of the previous night’s passion. He looked sheepishly at Stepdad as he maneuvered them free. The older man just shook his head.
“You really are the most unsanitary boy I’ve ever met, Flynn.”
When Flynn had the briefs down to mid-thigh, part of them still clung to the head of his penis. He grimaced and worked them free, thankfully without taking a layer of skin with them. He tossed them onto the floor ... not in the trash. He never completely submitted to Stepdad’s orders. Resistance, even if only to a small degree, was the only way his self-esteem could survive in that house.
He fidgeted with self-consciousness. He hated being forced to stand naked in front of his stepfather, but he’d had little control over his life since Mom had remarried when he was eight. Having to bare himself on command was a reminder of how Stepdad controlled every aspect of his life. His nakedness also emphasized how slight he was compared to the towering, overly muscled mass before him.
Stepdad ordered, “Stand still and let me have a look at you.”
He walked around Flynn a few times, looking him over critically as if the boy was one of his racehorses.
“Still too skinny.”
“What?” Flynn asked in mock surprise. “No change since the last time you conducted a full body examination? When was that ... two days ago?”
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