When the Wolfbane Blooms — Chapter Seven

by Arnold Snyder


“Father?” I said when I heard his “hello.” I was sitting alone in the waffle house, on my fourth cup of coffee, Bridget having departed to go shopping, our breakfast date over. I’d called Father Mcgillicuddy to sound him out on the werewolf idea.

“Oh, Dustin, I can tell this is serious,” he said. “You’ve been calling me Jim for ten years, and now I’m ‘Father?’ What’s the problem, child?”

“Okay, Jim. What do you think of the idea of becoming a werewolf, just temporarily, to experience what it’s like to be an animal, to be driven by instincts, bombarded with scents, living in the now?”

“Living in the now? Dustin, are you aware of the fact that werewolves happen to be real? They are a physical aberration of man, caused by the bite of a wolf, a virus similar to rabies. Like much of modern science, this is not information that is ever shared with the public. Werewolves are not spawn of the devil, or in any way connected with dark evil forces. Like all viruses, the lycanthropeosis virus never goes away, so you don’t want to get bitten by a werewolf just to see what it’s like. I understand why that wolf state might appeal to you when you describe it as you do, but it’s not realistic to pursue it for adventure.”

“But what I’m saying is that we could become werewolves together, just for a brief time, a few hours, then we’d be back to normal. And we don’t have to worry about being affected by the full moon. I’m planning to do it tonight with a friend.”

“And how does one become a temporary werewolf?”

“Wolfbane, Jim. You could do it with us. I really want you there when I do it, even if you don’t do it.”

“Wolfbane? Is it a full moon tonight?”

“No, Jim, but we don’t need a full moon with the proper dosage of wolfbane. But I’m afraid to do it alone, so I asked this girl to do it with me. She said yes, so we’re meeting in the cemetery at ten o’clock.”

“This is the craziest date idea I’ve ever heard of. Wolfbane is not something you play with. It’s a powerful poison. And why on earth would you want me there?”

“I’ve never done anything like this, Jim. I’m kind of scared. I think if I start to freak out or something, you could calm me down. Also, I’m worried about Bridget. That’s her name. She’s never done anything like this before either.”

“So, you and your new girlfriend are going to the cemetery tonight to become werewolves by eating poison, and you want me to come? You know the church used to burn werewolves, generally after a few days of torture to get them to confess to being werewolves. A sad period of our history. I think of those poor men and women who paid with their lives for the church’s gruesome insanity.”

“This is exactly why I need you there tonight, Jim. You have a historical perspective.”

“Many of the witches they burned were not really witches. But all of the werewolves they burned were real werewolves. I’ve been to the Vatican Library. I’ve seen the original reports. There were many witnesses. So, the church felt justified.

“But werewolves had made no pacts with the devil. It was just a damn virus, spread by wolves. But I’ll tell you what … I’ll come along with you tonight as a chaperone. I’ll make sure you and Bridget don’t get too wild. It would be sacrilegious to have sex in a cemetery. We can talk about werewolves and tell ghost stories all night long. You will not find any wolfbane in the cemetery or anywhere else in Strait City. It’s not native to this area and I highly doubt anyone has introduced any to our ecology here. Besides, it won’t be blooming at this time of year. You have a lot of misconceptions.”

I decided not to mention that wolfbane had been brought into town years ago by Vanschtubenbergh and that the stuff Devon had didn’t need to be blooming. I was pleased he even acknowledged the existence of werewolves. I didn’t want to start an argument. “I like Bridget, Jim,” I said. “But she’s not my girlfriend and we’re not intending to have sex. We’re going to become werewolves tonight. I’m very serious about this. Bridget’s brother, Devon, is a werewolf and he’s going to be guiding us. But I don’t have a lot of confidence in him. I want someone there I know and trust, in case there’s any kind of problem.”

“This keeps getting more complicated, Dustin. So, there will be three of you in the cemetery tonight—Devon, a real werewolf, his sister Bridget, and you? And Devon will be teaching you and his sister how to become werewolves? And you want a priest to be present? Dustin, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. When I write my memoirs, this story will have to be told. Where in the cemetery are you meeting?”

“By the pond,” I said.

“All the way out there?”

“Yes, Father, we didn’t want to be too close to any of the neighborhoods around there. We’re planning to go around ten o’clock.”

“I’ll be there. But if I’m late, don’t turn into werewolves until I get there.”


I called Vanschtubenbergh. “Doc, I think Bridget may be a genius. She’s come up with a plan for how we can make a buck off the werewolves.”

“I was thinking we could train them to be a special police unit,” he said. “Studies have shown that crime increases dramatically during the full moon, just when they’d be ready to kick into action.”

“But we still haven’t figured out how to get them to follow orders,” I said.

“I haven’t given up on that, Dustin. I’ve been thinking about the possibility of giving them a dose of my truth serum, and just asking them what they can do.”

“But they can’t talk,” I said. “Not when they’re wolves.”

“No, I’ll ask them when they’re in human form. It might work.”

I felt like telling him the idea was infeasible because his damn truth serum didn’t even work. He, of course, believed it worked and I hated to break his bubble.

“What’s Bridget’s idea?” he said.

“Assuming Devon’s bane isn’t just another bloom-in-a-bottle and it works like he says—two-hour trips with no repercussions—we sell the werewolf experience to the general public as a consciousness-raising high, like a new drug, a way for people to get back to their true animal nature.”

There was silence on Vanschtubenbergh’s end for a full minute, but I could hear his labored breathing and feel the wheels turning in his head. Then he said, “The girl’s a genius!”

“She also suggested we might launch the experience as a religion, First Church of the Sacred Wolf.”

“Yes!” he exploded. “That’s it! Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof! Yes! We will be fully protected under the law!”

“Bridget and I are going to give it a trial run tonight, assuming Devon can convince me that we’re not the first guinea pigs to try this stuff. She said Devon believes it’s a religious experience. I’ve never had a religious experience, so I’m hoping this will be my first spiritual adventure.”

“I love it, Dustin! I love it! I’m already writing ad copy in my head. I’ll be the spokesman on TV. I have the right look—distinguished, scholarly, dignified. Have you tried Catholicism and found it lacking? Tried Buddhism and found it boring? Have you given up on Scientology? Come to the First Church of the Sacred Wolf. We guarantee your first true spiritual experience.”

“I’m really excited about this, Doc. I’ll let you know how it goes.”


Father Mcgillicuddy was right on time. Devon, Bridget and I had just arrived at the north end of the pond, when we saw Father Mcgillicuddy approaching from the south end. The sliver of moon was casting just enough light to allow us to see each other.

I had mentioned to Devon that I’d invited Father Mcgillicuddy and he tried to convince me to rescind the invitation. But I argued that Jim was a longtime friend who knew that werewolves were real and I promised he wouldn’t throw any holy water on us. I was glad Vanschtubenbergh wasn’t there. He would have been steaming mad at my insubordination.

As per Devon’s instructions, Bridget and I were wearing loose clothing. Father Mcgillicuddy was dressed in black, per usual, wearing his collar with short sleeves. There was no mistaking him for anything but a priest. We found a clear patch of grass and sat down cross-legged in a circle, facing each other. I introduced Father Mcgillicuddy to Devon and Bridget.

“I have for each of you a small square of paper that contains the essence of wolfbane,” Devon said. He took an envelope from his pocket and gave me and Bridget each a white square of paper smaller than my pinkie fingernail.

“I have a question for you, Devon,” I said. “Have you tried this yourself?”

“Yes, I have many times, and it works perfectly.”

“But you’re already a werewolf,” I said. “Have you tried giving it to anyone who was not a werewolf to see how it affects them?”

“Many times. I can guarantee it works as described.”

“Did the Doc ever tell you about his bloom-in-a-bottle concoction?” I said.

“We’ve had a lengthy correspondence about it,” Devon said. “In fact, I developed Lycan Lite from his formula. He sent me his research and I could see immediately where he’d gone wrong. He was on the right track, but his elixir was far too potent for human beings. His bloom-in-a-bottle was my starting point. Lycan Lite is the miracle he was searching for.”

“May I see that?” Father Mcgillicuddy asked me.

I showed him the square of paper on the tip of my finger.

“I believe wolfbane is a plant,” Father Mcgillicuddy said to Devon. “A flowering plant.”

“Yes,” Devon said. “I’ve extracted the essence and put the proper human dosage on those squares of paper.”

“The active ingredient in wolfbane is aconitine,” Father Mcgillicuddy said. “It’s a poison.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Devon said, his voice getting a bit testy.

“That tiny piece of paper couldn’t have enough aconitine on it to properly poison someone,” Father Mcgillicuddy said.

“I’m not trying to poison them,” Devon said.

“Well, then, the reason I came along was to make sure you weren’t doing anything dangerous with wolfbane. I used to work in a poison control center. I’m relieved of my worries. What exactly does that little shred of paper contain?”

“Two micrograms of aconitine,” Devon said. “That is the amount that will cause a person to become a wolf.”

“Two micrograms? That’s not enough to give heartburn to a mouse. Do you have another dose?” Father Mcgillicuddy said. “I’d like to become a werewolf myself tonight.”

“I don’t believe you’re taking this seriously, Father,” Devon said.

“I’m open to whatever happens. I’m writing my memoirs and this should make a good chapter. The night I became a werewolf. I like the sound of it. Do you have an extra dose?”

Devon took the envelope from his pocket and took another small square of paper from it and gave it to Father Mcgillicuddy.

“To ingest the bane,” Devon said, now addressing the group, “simply place the square of paper on your tongue. Let it rest there until it’s good and wet. Your saliva will draw out the sacrament—and it is a sacrament. You may swallow it if you desire, but that’s unnecessary. Feel free to spit it out after a minute. You’ll have your two micrograms of aconitine absorbing into your system and your transformation will begin shortly. Please, before receiving the sacrament—kindly remove your shoes and socks.”

I took my shoes and socks off and looked at Bridget. She untied her sneakers and kicked them off. Then she placed the square of paper onto the tip of her tongue. I did the same. We both looked at Father Mcgillicuddy. We watched him remove his tasseled loafers. He had a knowing smile on his face as he placed the square of paper onto his tongue. He seemed to be rolling it around on his tongue, then took it between his front teeth and bit down on it before making a show of swallowing it.

After swallowing the paper on my own tongue—wanting to make sure I got the bane since there was so little of it on the paper—I said, “How long will this take to come on?”

“Not more than a few minutes,” Devon answered.

“Can I take a Darvon?” Bridget said. “I’m cramping.”

“I’d suggest waiting,” Devon said. He looked concerned. “It’s unusual for bane in such a small dose to give someone stomach cramps, especially so soon. Did you eat something that disagrees with you?”

“Oh, it’s not the wolfbane,” she said. “I’m ovulating right now. It’s just my normal period cramps.”

“Oh my god, I should have mentioned this,” Devon said. “This is a mistake, Sis. You should not have taken the bane while ovulating.”

“Will it increase my cramps?” Bridget said.

“Your cramps are irrelevant. You are becoming a female wolf and when the transformation is complete, you will be a bitch in heat.”

“How bad is that? Is there something I could take quickly for an antidote?”

“There is no antidote to aconitine, nor is there an antidote to being in heat. There’s nothing dangerous about it, except that you are with two alpha males that will likely fight over you. And the winner will mount you.”

“Like hell he will,” she said indignantly.

“Oh, you’ll feel quite differently about that after you’ve transformed,” Devon said.

“Now hold on,” Father Mcgillicuddy said. “I have no intention of fighting with Dustin over Bridget. I’m a man of the cloth. I’ve taken a vow of chastity which I have no intention of breaking tonight, and I’m old enough to be her grandfather. And he is not going to be mounting her or anyone else while I’m here.”

“Father, you won’t have a choice in the matter. Your age is irrelevant. Male wolves remain sexually potent their entire lives. Your instincts will drive you. And if you get near Bridget, Dustin will challenge you to a battle. You are absolutely free to run from the altercation, but I’ve never seen it happen. The entire focus of your life will be on Bridget. And Dustin will also be under the spell of her estrus. The two of you will have to fight. Wolves don’t share when they’re mating.”

“So, what can we do?” Bridget said. “There must be something.”

“What I should do is lock all three of you in separate cages. But there are no cages out here. There is a great possibility that either Dustin or Father Mcgillicuddy will die tonight.”

Interested as I was in this conversation, my participation in it ended abruptly when I felt a tightening in my neck that froze my jaw and all facial muscles. The transformation began with a dull pain in my shoulder blades that became a very sharp pain, causing me to hunch forward. My skin prickled and my insides were in motion. It was a feeling in my guts similar to nausea. I fell to my hands and knees.

I could still hear Devon’s voice talking, but I lost touch with where I was and what was happening. I was dizzy and had no balance. I didn’t like it. My bones were bending, which felt like they were continually about to break, my innards twisting every which way. My teeth. My face. My head. My brain. Parts not meant to move, in motion. Stretching. Wrenching. Turning. I wanted to die. If I’d had any method of suicide available, I would have taken it.

Then, just as suddenly, I wanted to live. I opened my eyes and I could see the world and I owned it. It was mine for the taking. I had strength, power, fearlessness. The first person I saw was Devon. He was looking right at me. I could smell the hidden wolf in him. I could taste his blood without even having to sink my teeth into his flesh.

I turned to look at Father Mcgillicuddy. Like me, he had fallen to all fours. He had not quite awakened yet, but he was fully a wolf. His fur was mostly gray and scraggly, growing in tufts in some areas and hardly covering his skin in others. He did not look healthy. When a man becomes a wolf, he retains his full body weight. Mcgillicuddy weighed in at about 280. His paws were quite large with dangerous-looking claws. I looked at his face, still in his wire-rimmed glasses, cocked askew on his nose. His eyes opened and I could see he was starting to take it all in, what we had done, what he had done.

Devon helped me get out of my clothes, then stood next to Bridget waiting for her to complete her transformation as she—like Father Mcgillicuddy—was going through what appeared to be painful contortions.

Father Mcgillicuddy completed his transformation first, but when Devon approached him to help him get out of his clothes, Father Mcgillicuddy snarled at him, baring his fangs, and Devon backed off.

I wanted to taunt Father Mcgillicuddy in a friendly way by saying it’ll make a fine chapter in your memoirs, Jim, but I quickly learned I had no voice capable of speaking those words. I watched as he became aware as I did of Bridget. Her hormones, her pheromones—I was inhaling her with every breath I took. I could see Father Mcgillicuddy doing the same.

Devon sat down. He wanted no part of what was about to happen.

Bridget was on all fours, but still not fully awake. Her ass end was in the air, her skirt flipped up onto her back, her tail coming out from one leg of her panties and waving in the air. Her fur was mostly sleek and a rich auburn color like her red hair had been, a beautiful coat. She looked strong and dangerous.

Father Mcgillicuddy cast me a stern look, then tried walking toward Bridget. His shirt and trousers were interfering with his legs and he spent a full minute pumping his back legs in a way that somehow pulled his trousers down from his hips so he could step out of them. He still had on his white jockey shorts that not only looked ridiculous, but entirely obstructed his sex organ, which was obviously quite swollen with lust. He walked over to her and grabbed her panties in his teeth and tore them off of her with a quick yank.

That woke her up, and me as well.

I watched as Mcgillicuddy shoved his nose into her and started licking her, opening her up. Then he pulled back and looked at her pussy. There was a short length of white string dangling out of it. He grabbed it with his teeth and yanked out her bloody tampon, flinging it aside. It landed a foot from my right front paw.

I leaned down and gave it a good sniff-heavenly—before I gobbled it down like the tasty little snack it was. I could hardly believe he’d let me have it.

He went down on his haunches, ready to leap into full mount position, when I snapped and barreled into him with my full weight, caught him off-guard, mentally incapacitated as he was by Bridget’s pheromones. He went down on his side with a squeal and I went for the jugular, clamping my jaws onto his throat, just tight enough to relay to him that his life was but a bite from over. My strongest instinct was to rip his throat out. We both knew that. So he did what dogs do, whimpered and slowly rolled fully onto his back in surrender.

I stood over him, continuing to growl menacingly, baring my teeth, tasting the thick fur on his neck. But he remained limp. I slowly backed my mouth off of his throat and as soon as I was no longer in position to kill him with a single clamp of my jaws, he began licking at the corners of my mouth. I could taste Bridget’s salty mucus on his tongue.

I backed away further and looked at him in a way that said, Look, Mcgillicuddy, just stay away from the bitch. She’s mine. And enough of the sloppy kisses already.

I got off of him and turned my attention to Bridget. She was really asking for it, her ass high, tail flagging. I wanted to get a taste of her before fucking her, and what a delightful taste it was. As I knew I was being driven purely by instinct, it surprised me that in this lupine state it occurred to me how much better her pussy would taste if it were coated in Grade A golden Vermont maple syrup.

But I didn’t entertain that notion for long. No sooner had I gotten my nose into her than I got the wind knocked out of me.

It was Mcgillicuddy, attacking me in almost the identical way I’d attacked him. But this time he was the one who had the element of surprise and I was the one bowled over. But when I felt his jaws on my neck, I didn’t stay down. I called his bluff and twisted out of the grip of his teeth.

I knew the coward wouldn’t kill me. When he refused to submit after sparring for a bit, I nipped his ear, punctured the cartilage and drew blood. I wanted him to know I was serious about this. I would tear him up if I had to. I would do real damage. He was also at a disadvantage because his now-shredded shirt was still interfering with the use of his front legs and paws.

Once more he surrendered, went down onto his back, all four paws limp, as I stood over him, snarling and biting at his neck to demonstrate my superiority.

Again, he exhibited his fawning behavior, licking at the corners of my mouth in his frantic whimpering plea for mercy. His eyes were on me as I backed away, and he kept his eyes on me but remained motionless as I stood over him.

Enveloped as I was in Bridget’s hormones, my focus shifted quickly from Father Mcgillicuddy to Bridget. I leapt onto her back and began humping her in an attempt to get my dick into the right slot. She stood perfectly still and kept her tail out of the way, but I was not practiced at this style of intercourse. My dick was bumping around her hindquarters and moist areas but never quite burying itself where it wanted to be.

I was tearing her blouse to shreds, not purposefully, but as a result of the way I was straddling her with my forelegs, trying to get some kind of grip with my claws. I was grateful to her for standing still and keeping her tail raised as I attempted to fuck her.

Mcgillicuddy couldn’t keep his nose out of it. I had been so focused on fucking Bridget, I hadn’t even seen him coming. I felt him nosing around where he wasn’t welcome, no doubt lapping up whatever juices and lubricants Bridget was exhuming. When I felt him licking my balls, which I’m sure were coated in her slop, then licking my dick, I jerked my hips back, thinking I might have to dismount and kill the sex-crazed clergyman. But of their own accord, my hips thrust once more and hit pay-dirt.

Bridget squealed.

I saw Mcgillicuddy backing off, unable to keep licking given the increased rapidity and forcefulness of my pumping hips. All thoughts of attacking him had dissipated. In fact, it struck me that he may have facilitated my entry by opening Bridget up with his frantic licking. Perhaps I should send him a thank you note.

With my hips pumping away, I went into a state of euphoria, unlike any state of mind I’d ever known. I was in a holy place, a sacred place. The purpose of my life had been realized, the purpose of creation itself had been fulfilled.

At some point, I realized I was no longer pumping my hips. I was spent. Bridget was starting to squirm beneath my weight. She wanted me off of her. The deed was done. Over. I dismounted by getting off her back, unstraddling her by maneuvering both of my front legs to her right side. But I couldn’t withdraw. My dick was engorged to the size of a football inside her, or so it felt, and there was no way to pull out without injuring one of us.

For a few minutes, she seemed satisfied that I’d at least gotten my weight off her back. But then she wanted me out. Gone. Done. Take a hike. She was trying to walk away. But I couldn’t withdraw, not until my dick was ready to cooperate. She was literally dragging me sideways with her and whining loudly the whole time.

Then, here comes Mcgillicuddy again, getting his nose into our private business. I turned and snarled at him halfheartedly, but what the fuck did I care now? I wanted to be done with this bitch, but I couldn’t get my dick out.

She kept turning to look at me like she wanted to kill me. But she had been the instigator, prancing around with her tail in the sky like she was. Couldn’t she just exhibit a bit of patience now? My dick would deflate soon. Wouldn’t it? Just stand still, bitch!

She’s dragging me around by the dick and Mcgillicuddy’s licking away. I swear I’m going to tear his tonsils out through his neck. She ain’t gonna want your sorry ass now, Jim. You’re too late. By the time my dick gets out of her, heat or no heat, she will have one sore pussy.

Devon, meanwhile, is taking notes.

After too long a time for comfort, my dick deflated quickly and just fell out of her. As I was walking away, Mcgillicuddy was closing in on her. She snarled at him like she meant it, but he attempted to mount. She sat down on the ground, leaving him no access. He didn’t want to accept her rejection, so he tried humping her in that position. She turned and snapped at his nose, giving it a good pinch with her teeth, but not drawing blood.

He got the message. He dismounted, sat back on his haunches beside her and let loose with a long wailing howl of abject misery.

Then he tried once more to mount her, hitting her with his paw to try and coax her into a standing posture. She stayed right where she was. He humped her back for a minute, then dismounted again and let loose with another plaintive howl.

I felt for him. I really did. He seemed oblivious to the fact that his jockey shorts were in the way. He was fighting a losing battle.

After witnessing this pathetic spectacle again and again, I was getting sick of him. I was also starting to worry that his sporadic howling might attract people to us. The howl of a wolf sounds like nothing but the howl of a wolf.

I know Bridget was feeling sorry for him. He was in pain. He had a destiny to fulfill. It was not a choice for him. It was the reason he existed on this planet.

So, it didn’t surprise me when she relented. As he nudged her in the side with his nose, pushing his whole face into her, she got to her feet and lifted her tail.

Oh, that sweet, sweet estrus.

He buried his nose into her crotch.

I snapped again and charged him. Get your fucking nose out of my girl’s twat, you unworthy sonofabitch!

The fucker hit the dirt hard, but turned fast to fight me. We were going for each other’s throat, but I had position on him. I had the upper hand. He was slower and fat and I had the muscle.

He screeched when my fangs tore into the side of his neck. Just a warning. He was, after all, my friend. But I tasted his blood and I wanted more.

And he knew it.

He went limp and shut the fuck up, knowing that if he cried it would whet my appetite. I backed off. I could see terror in his eyes. I let him study my teeth for a while.

Bridget saved his ass. She was waving her tail like it was old glory on the fourth of July. I got one good whiff of that pussy and it was later with you, Mcgillicuddy.

And again, I couldn’t locate the slot to save my life. I hit the wrong hole more than once and got a rise out of her. But wouldn’t you know it, here comes the Padre again, actually whimpering as he licked this time. Neither Bridget nor I did anything to discourage him. We both knew he was helping me locate my target.

Which I did.

Now get lost, Mcgillicuddy.

I think that moment right there was when I fell in love with Bridget. She truly was the girl of my dreams. I’m already plotting out our future. She ovulates once a month, and through my professional connections (Doc and Devon) I could probably obtain all the bane I wanted. And yes, I’d have to request a large supply from Devon, along with complete instructions for manufacturing it. But for now, I was considering asking Bridget to marry me.

Once more, we went through the same routine, with me attaining lupine nirvana, then getting stuck inside her and her getting pissed off at me for taking so damn long to finish my business.

And once more, Mcgillicuddy tried for sloppy seconds, or in this case thirds. He’d managed to get his underpants off by ripping them off with his teeth, but I don’t think Bridget was having him at all. Not that I knew for certain. I fell asleep not long after my second romp, while he was going through his failed mount and howl routine even with his shorts out of the picture.

By the time I woke up, I was no longer a wolf, nor were Bridget or Mcgillicuddy. They were still sleeping. We were all naked. Devon was sitting on a stump, having put his notebook away. I dressed, looking at him, then at them.

“Do you have any more bane?” I said to Devon.

“Just one more hit,” he said. “But I can make lots more. It’s not hard to extract it from the plant. You really don’t want to take another one right now, do you?”

“I want to buy some,” I said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t sell it to you. It’s a sacrament. Here, take the hit I have left and I’ll have a new batch made up in a couple days.” He took the small folded envelope from his pocket and handed it to me. “Doctor Vanschtubenbergh’s lab has all the equipment I need and I brought enough wolfbane with me to make thousands of hits.”

Father Mcgillicuddy opened his eyes and sat up. “Holy fuck,” he said.

I had a feeling that, like me, Father Mcgillicuddy had just had his first spiritual experience.

Go to: Chapter Eight

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