You sniff the air, searching around for the cookies or some other tasty sweet treats, and her beefy smell hits you hard.
“mmmmmm” you think with another sniff and a turn to peer at her still sleeping form “she smells amazing....”
A part of you does realise that this is wrong and shameful behaviour, at least by human standards, but you don’t leave. Staring at the bumps and folds of that delicate body sleeping under the covers, and in time you lifted your muzzle high and sniff again. Deeper this time, parsing through the scent of the paint on the walls and the dusty books on the shelf, honing on Sarah and Sarah alone.
This is your sister, your sweet little ten year old sister sleeping soundly in her bed, and there you stand in the middle of her room, wolfish muzzle held up to the sky and closing your eyes in appreciation of her young aroma.
Sniffff snnfffffff
Sarah's 4’8 form is curled up into a little sweaty ball of tender meat, soft skin, beautiful and cherubic. Even the fabric of her green pyjama pants and shirt and the duvet around her does little to hide her smell from you. It’s sweet in some aspects, smooth and easy to carry upon the air, and equally it is salty. That’s the meat upon her body, the beefy heft of a well fed human girl, young and still round with baby fat. Sweet, salty, beefy, all of it swaying over the air towards you in a pink vapour. So thick that your wolfish eyes can practically see the soft, cotton candy like cloud it forms.
God she’s good. And your wolf instincts are telling you to do something, interpreting that scent not just as particles upon the air but also a message. But a message to do what?
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