Mondjugen: A werewolf’s tale

by Rock Creek Werewolf   

Independent Seth has been straying from his pack and keeping a secret, and needs to be brought to heel. But after his attitude adjustment, Seth’s Alpha has some bad news: the mondjugen are in danger.

I’ve been going through a period of frustrated writing where I tear up everything I create. Recently, I had stories commissioned by two of my favorite writers. The experience of brainstorming, collaboration, and editing really lit a fire under me, and I now want to create something of my own.

This one has a slow start, with some world-building in the first chapter. Plenty of sex, intrigue, and werewolf shenanigans to come. I would greatly welcome feedback, critiques, and praise are both useful, at @RkCreekWerewolf. Praise Luna, I hope you all like it.

The dance floor smelt of man sweat, tanned leather, and dried vodka residue. And then, suddenly, all Seth could smell was werewolf.

He’d been enjoying himself. A stolen night out to forget all the drama, the nonsense. Seth still cut a good figure at 41, nice muscles, high rounded ass, and great arms, avoiding the paunch. With a borrowed harness and some liquid courage, he was set to take what the night could bring him. Including, hopefully, a fistful of ass or two.

The bar had gay night only once a week, the only one for 200 miles in either direction on the state route, and leather night only once a month. It was gonna be a good night; plenty of sweaty, musky young bucks from the three state universities within driving distance, and vacationing daddies looking to bring prizes back to their campers at the national park. Seth would know; his staff at the ranger station had checked them all in that day, his nostrils flaring with each new virile bear and otter who paid their lot fee and arched their eyebrow at him. I still got it, Seth thought as he grinned and wiggled his pelvis a bit in self-satisfaction.

But werewolves, like facts, are stubborn things.

The music still thumped, the hips still bumped. The pretty young thing with braces—braces, for Luna’s sake!!—nearby was still sending off every pheromone and wink he could of his readiness to be devoured. But it was not to be.

Seth’s nostrils flared. Alpha Pete’s goons were here, two of them, he sniffed, trying to play it cool. The music and mishmash of human stink prevented any further precision. But definitely two. Seth narrowed his eyes. Wolves came in pairs when they meant business.

“Que lindo, Ferret,” Carlos leaned into Seth’s ear from behind, surprising him with a lick, giving a strong tug at Seth’s harness while using Seth’s least favorite nickname. Carlos smelled of testosterone and of the forest and pico de gallo. Seth recoiled a bit as Carlos gave his ear another wet slobber, right there on the dancefloor.

“Gotta blend in, asswhipe,” Seth asserted as he wiped his ear dry with his hand. A harness was expected. Carlos, tall, olive, a jungle-gym of muscles, was in a form-hugging black t-shirt and jeans, all the more to emphasize his massive chest and traps, all set atop a narrow waist.

“Blend in better after some dance lessons, gurl,” the second wolf said, weaving in from Seth’s right, smelling of gasoline and automotive grease and cigarette smoke. He had a southern accent, not a mountain one—something more refined, probably South Carolina. A wise-guy smile and wiry black arm hair, a forest over his sleeve tattoos. Seth was on edge now. A werewolf he did not know; that presented so many nerve-wracking possibilities.

“Alpha requests your presence,” Carlos smiled, giving a bright grin, amidst the disco ball’s swirling fireflies. As if it were just a request. They spoke at a normal conversation level. A human being would not be able to hear amidst the loud music and chatter, but there were no humans in this conversation. “Alpha says there’s trouble coming.”

Seth nodded, understanding. He did not have a choice. There was a thicket of bodies around them. There was no quick escape from the dance floor. And Seth knew Carlos was faster than him, as both on two and four legs. So no flight. And no fight. It would be a shame to ruin leather night for the mortals with a deadly brawl. “I’ll go quietly.”

A new track came on just as Seth said it, a Gaga remix. “But just one more dance,” Seth blurted, also ensuring it was not a request. That was his diva playing, after all. He flag down one of the roving bartenders and held up his beer and three fingers. The bartender server gave a thumbs up and headed back to the bar. “I’ve got a tab,” Seth said to the two others and started moving to the music. After a moment, Carlos and the other joined in to ‘Just Dance.’

Ninety minutes and three rounds later, the three were heading out the door, Carlos cursing that they were keeping Alpha waiting, while Seth and the third werewolf were belting out ‘Alejandro,’ as one of the big and burly bouncers called after to them to hush, something about noise ordinances and liquor licenses. The other werewolf (now known to Seth as Bill) gave the two studs a flirty wink as the three hoped out to the gravel parking lot.

Seth had a silly grin on his face as he jumped into the bed of Carlos’ pickup. The two larger pack brothers took the cab, the suspension sagging under their collective weight.

Only one night a month, Seth looked sadly back at the club Last call wasn’t got another hour. Only one time a month... Ironic, wasn’t it? And off they went into the curvy, hilly night, with Bob Denver playing on the FM.

The Chief of Police gave the most amazing head.

Alpha Pete jerked his head back involuntarily, clutching the seat of the chair he rested on, allowing some moans to break free. He usually preferred to remain stoic when receiving the worship he was due, but this was just too good. “Fucking hell, that’s sweet!” he spat out a swear, his pleasure echoing against the cell’s cinder block walls. Alpha Pete ran his hands roughly atop the chief’s silver buzz cut as it bobbed and snorted. Chief Mullins redoubled his efforts, and energetically sucked, his cookie duster mustache tickling the shaft, his lips stretched to their maximum accommodating the firetruck-red member plunging in and out. He bashed his face into his Sir’s bush; there was no hesitation. Intoxicated on the musk fumes, it was so right and so good and so good and so right in Chief Mullins’ Alpha-drunk mind.

“Fuck yes!” Alpha Pete jerked again, thrusting his hips, almost rising out of his chair. He slapped the side of the sucker’s head, eliciting a grunt and gurgle. The chief was handcuffed behind his back and on his knees, allowing his oral skills to shine. Alpha Pete looked down and appreciated how Mullins’ handsome jaw and smile had collapsed into a wet gurgling sucker, surrendering to his master’s cock. The head continued, as it should. Alpha Pete grunted in pleasure.

Amidst the fun, Alpha Pete picked up the scent of exhaust and sweat and Carlos’ mom’s pico de gallo. The boys were here at last.

Alpha Pete sniffed at the air. All of them. Excellent.

Chief Mullins was unceremoniously pushed to one side with a pop of his mouth and a wet moan of protest. “Thank you, Sir!” was all he could manage as he fell to his side, still cuffed, before Alpha Pete departed the cell, having to duck to get his massive frame through the sliding barred door.

“Please Sir, don’t go! Please! Let me suck you more!” Chief Mullins called after him, maneuvering himself back up and moving forward on his knees, trying to keep up, desperate for a full helping of his master’s seed. The chief had a nice build, accentuated by his spit n’ polish uniform, which Alpha Pete insisted he wear instead of the usual informal force polo shirts.

“Quiet, runt!” Alpha Pete directed shouted over his shoulder. He drug the cell door slid shut, to the chief’s desperate wail of dismay. The shadows of the bars created a flip book of light and shadow across the human’s face until the final clang. “Don’t be so greedy!” Alpha Pete locked the cell shut, and went on his way up the hall past the other two vacant cells, the chief’s sighs of disappointment echoing behind him.

Let the chief figure out an excuse for his being cuffed in a locked cell without a key when the morning shift came in, Alpha Pete chuckled. The man was an obedient servant and an amazing lay (“What head, I cannot even begin to tell you!!…” Alpha Pete would assure you), but the runt needed discipline.

Now to business.

The police precinct was as nondescript as you could imagine. Old dry-erase boards with prior scribbles faded into permanent grey, mismatched chairs, not a one sitting evenly on the floor, and every clock slightly off. The arrangement provided by Chief Mullins this past month had been a masterstroke for Alpha Pete, who now had the run of the place, and all the resources that came with it (a cadre of well-meaning but dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks officers willing to take orders via Mullins, radio and dispatcher access to monitor federal, state, and local authorities, and all the man ass Alpha Pete wanted, provided the men attached to the ass were born on the right nights. The chief certainly was.

Life was good.

Alpha Pete entered the precinct’s conference room. He was a massive man, with amazingly fanned-out lats that he struggled to clothe, traps like bricks resting on his shoulders, and a confident smile framed with a ginger beard. The entire force’s night shift was out on patrol. Chief Mullins made sure of it. The Pack could use the building as they pleased. And right now, the Packmaster needed speak to his errant pack member.

“How ya feeling, Ferret?” Alpha Pete entered the room, using his pet name for Seth, who was seated at the conference table, Carlos and Bill standing on either side. He knew it bugged McBride to no end. When he’d first brought Seth into his pack, the poor pup was gaunt after living rough so long. No one to hunt with, so he’d been relegated to coon and possum and the occasional rabbit. And a GS-9 salary, which even in these parts did not go far. Seth had been evasive on his past. As wiggly and skinny as a weasel in form and in word, Alpha Pete observed then, with obligatory chuckles provided by the entire pack in response. Seth winced then. Alpha Pete smiled then. He made a point to ensure it would stick.

“Rather pissed off,” Seth slurred his words a bit. “I’m missing leather night.”

“Show some respect for your Alpha,” Carlos warned. He and Bill put their hands on Seth’s shoulders, holding him down in the chair.

“And you two show some respect for me,” Alpha Pete barked back at Carlos and Bill. “I said come back right away, not after three rounds.” Carlos and Bill winced. Alpha Pete sniffed at the air. “And Rail vodka? I mean, really?” Alpha Pete shook his head and looked down back at McBride. “Seth, welcome home,” he said, now peaches and cream.

Seth eyes were dim with drink, but he had been around too long to buy into all that “Yes Sir, No Sir,” bowing and subservience pantomiming. He’d survived more than 180 moons, more than most. “What do you want?” he blurted without the proper address or ceremony. “I performed my patrol duty two weeks ago and my monthly dues went into your dumbass piggy bank.”

It was a literal piggy bank; the Pack being a strictly off-the-books group, as it were. “I think he’s right, Alpha,” Bill shook the jangling porcelain porcine.

Alpha Pete didn’t let a half second pass. “I want him in the holding cells, boys,” Alpha Pete spoke speaking directly to his two acolytes. “Code Double A.”

‘Attitude Adjustment.’

Seth grunted a bit as his arms were seized by the two men on either side of him, and put into a hold. “What the fuck?” Seth blurted out. “Alpha Pete, it’s me.”

“Seth,” Alpha Pete shook his head in a mock-lamenting tone. “You’re an amazing hunter, a clever beast, and your being a Park Ranger…” Seth gave a gesture of kissing his fingers and flicking his hand upwards like an Italian, as though describing an amazing wine vintage. “It’s invaluable. But skipping pack meetings, and this—this lip I receive?—this? In front of your brothers?| he spoke like a Mafioso from all those mafia movies he always watched on his iPad, “It just doesn’t slide. We’ve got pups coming up in the pack now, and what example does that serve to them?”

“How long in the joint?” Seth asked has he was half walked, half drug into the cell block. He tried to stay cocky as Bill and Carlos restrained him. More pups coming? That was news. “I got work on Monday.”

“How many days until Luna comes next?” Alpha Pete, unseen behind Seth, asked Carlos. You’d think he’d have that memorized after over 250 moons, but Alpha Pete had learned not to sweat the details.

Seth gasped in realization and shock. “Noooo!!” the park ranger in still in clubbing clothes screamed out then in genuine distress, losing his composure. He now knew then what Alpha Pete was thinking. “Nooooo!! Please!! Don’t make me change out in the woods like that!!” he bellowed, and fought like the devil to get free. But it was all in vain.

“Three nights, my Alpha,” Carlos informed his wolfsire, grunting as he and Bill the errant wolf’s upper body and arms now wrapped in Carlos’ arms, and Seth’s feet now rolled up in Bill’s powerful grip. Ferret here was strong.

The cell blocks smelt of heavy, undiluted bleach, human urine, and some McDonalds wrappers in the one trashcan in the hall. The police chief still in the adjoining cell gasped and shuddered, but remained dutifully silent.

Alpha Pete stomped into the cell block once the door to Seth’s cell clanged shut; he turned the key himself. “Poor Ferret,” he said, shaking his head a little theatrically. “Here I was trying to help, and all I get is… this. This disrespect. You need a lesson before we can talk… you there, runt!” Alpha Pete turned his eyes to the still-shackled police chief. “In the morning, direct the day shift to book Ferret here on some charge or another. Burglary, murder, I don’t give a fuck what,” Alpha Pete looked back at his pack member, now sitting dejected and panting on the mattress, Carlos and Bill eyed him warily. “Something violent, something with no bail option,” Alpha Pete continued. “Then during lunch, get a pitcher of beer from Dale’s next door, and pour it on the server. Destroy all the records, so no arraignment the next day.”

“Sir! I can’t do—” the chief’s eyes widened.

“Silence!” Alpha Pete banged at the bars with his fist. His iron-dense claws created clangs that made the mortal quake and his hole pulse. “Yes! Exactly! You will do this exactly, runt,” Alpha Pete barked as the police chief looked down. “Not one more word. No arraignment until three days from now, got it? And then that morning, lie and say you got a phone call that exonerates him completely. Let him walk out the front door yourself. No record, no need for a court date. Got it?”

“Sir, I—”

Alpha Pete bounded down the cell block faster than any human ought be able to too, plunging a strong arm through the bars, and snagged the chief’s ear. He roughly pulled the still-kneeling cop up off his knees, towards the bars, banging fellow’s face against the door’s bars badly. The chief reflexively tried to clutch his face, but only rattled at his handcuffs. The chief still aloft, Alpha Pete unbuttoned his fly with his other hand. Not wearing any underwear, the Alpha was free to mash the police chief’s face directly into his master’s pubes. “Got it!” Alpha Pete shouted, shoving the man’s face in deep.

It only took one inhale. “Yes sir!” the cop shouted, muffled and enthralled, into Alpha Pete’s pelvis.

“Please don’t do this!” Seth pleaded from his own cell, in drunken tears. “Please don’t make me change like this!”

But Alpha Pete was already heading out. He’d dropped Chief Mullins back into his cell and was walking away. “Ferret, first, you need to be humbled,” he called back, his tone mellower, but in charge. “Second, once I tell you what’s going on, you’ll thank your lucky stars you’re behind bars for a few days and not on the outside. Dangers a’coming.” Alpha Pete paused at the final doorway, sounding sad for a second. “But not yet. You’ll soon be thanking me,” Alpha Pete nodded, giving assurance to the angry and penned Seth back at the other end of the cell block. “For yourself and for your own mondjugen.”

Seth shook. He’d tried so hard to keep it secret.

“Oh yes, I know about him,” Alpha Pete called, his voice echoing off the cinderblock walls in unconcealed triumph. He started walking back to Seth’s cell. “Hold him down, boys,” Alpha Pete directed, and Carlos and Bill moved in, reopening the cell. “Pining away for your little mondjugen in that dump of a gym he owns?” Alpha Pete ducked to re-enter the cell, filling it almost completely with his bulk of powerful hairy muscle. Seth just sat in stunned silence. He’d been so careful, so discrete. And here Alpha Pete knew about Yousef. “Really, Seth,” Alpha Pete growled. “You act like your 180 moons makes you James Bond or something. You ain’t that special, kid. I’m over 250 moons now. I’m not going anywhere. Carlitos, hold him down.”

Seth grunted as Carlos put his full weight on his packbrother, holding the U.S. Park Ranger down to the concrete of the cell floor. Seth knew what was coming, but couldn’t help a sputter protest as Alpha Pete’s urine sprayed down across his face and jaw. Seth gave it a sniff and a taste. Alpha Pete was strong as ever, as virile as ever. He’d had a cold two weeks ago, and had recently eaten apples or other sweet fruit. So much information.

Having finished his task, both for marking his territory and for showing his dominance, Alpha Pete zipped back up. Seth offered no further word of protest, and just shook his face a bit to get rid of the excess drippage. Without further ceremony, Alpha Pete, Carlos, and Bill parted, and the lights went out. All that was left was the police chief’s clanking of his handcuffs and groaning at his position, the aroma of Alpha urine, the dull ache in Seth’s his face, and the crinkle of the plastic jail cell mattress. The static lights of street lamps and the occasional flash of truck headlights snuck rapid hello’s through the narrow windows.

Praise Luna, he hoped his mondjugen would be safe. And this rail vodka was going to create a hell of a hangover, Seth sighed.

“You should have told him, jefe,” Carlos said, sitting down at the precinct’s dispatcher radio, and putting on headphones. Bill had headed outside to start the night watch.

“I will,” Alpha Pete assured. “Any chatter on the radio?”

Carlos listened a bit. “A DUI at Damby Junction. A hit-and-run on Route 15. Mortal stuff... You should have told him.”

Alpha Pete gave a simple growl then, and Carlos fell silent. He’d tested the water enough. Alpha Pete knew best.

“I will, once Seth’s been humbled,” Alpha Pete felt tired then. He had an entire pack to run, to protect. He needed Seth now. The bad blood between them needed to be cooled. Ideally, Luna’s lesson three days hence would work.

After fifteen minutes of silence, the cell block’s peace finally broke when the police chief spoke.

“When did they get to you, McBride?” he asked quietly, without much other noise to compete with. The two had known each other for years via virtual meetings during Covid and large group settings like conferences and the August city festival. Police Chief Mullins and U.S. Park Ranger McBride, on law enforcement working groups, coordinated raids of drug busts at park property cabins, tracking poachers and illegal dumpers, seeing each other about town and cracking jokes on the radio.

“When’d you get the moustache?” Seth replied in the dark.

It broke the tension a bit. Chief Mullins laughed a bit. “Sir—Sir Pete wanted me to grow it. Said I needed to look the part.”

“It suits you.”

“Uh…” Chief Mullins didn’t know how to respond at first. Seth was good at disarming tension. “When did you get mixed up in this—all this—McBride?” he tried again.

“When did they get you?” Seth replied.

“I met Sir about three months ago,” Mullins said. “At first, it was just a… a friendship. I’d know,” he fell into a confessional mode. “It felt so… natural to be around him.” Mullins started babbling, talking faster. “I felt at ease like I hadn’t since my college friends way back when. But then I started feeling this… compulsion. To listen to him, to… to please him. I started daydreaming about him, making up excuses to call, to go over. I got so concerned that he needed to be happy. That I needed to make him happy, to be with him. It got more and more intense. I thought I could keep it separate from work, from Mary and the kids. Thought it was just a bromance thing. But this past month, he started giving me commands and…”

His voice broke. “I—I started obeying. Like he’d say jump, and I didn’t even bother to ask how high. And I couldn’t stop. I can’t stop...” he drifted for a second, his nostrils picking up a lingering whiff of Sir on his human muzzle. He licked his lips, his moustache, trying to catch up with it, but the scent was gone. “Sometimes… sometimes it wears off,” Chief Mullins continued, “but the next time I see him, I fall into it again. These past two weeks, he started directing me to service him. And I’ve been sucking him ever since. Got pretty good at it!” Chief Mullins asserted with true pride, finding comfort in it. The man began to cry a little. “I’m not gay, McBride. Never had this kind of attraction before. Now I cannot imagine doing anything else.”

Seth nodded, unseen in the dark. Classic mondjugen.

“Alpha Pete’s a good Sir,” Seth offered as Chief Mullins collected himself. “You’ll be safe with him.” Seth knew of other packmasters who were openly cruel to their mondjugen, butchering them at the slightest infractions, and or forcing them to perform humiliating life-destroying servitude in front of their human brethren. Seth had been in those types of packs. It was one of the reasons he’d left, gone solo, ended up in these mountain parts, and the career and pack that found him.

“Why is this happening? What’s happening—to—me?” Chief Mullins asked pointedly from the other cell.

“You’re special,” Seth answered.

“McBride,” the Chief of Police whispered. “Please.”

Seth hesitated.

“How about you?” Chief Mullins tried another tactic. He did have interrogation training, after all. “When did you get mixed up with these… whatever the hell they are?”

“I’m not mixed up with them,” Seth signed, staring into the infinite black of the ceiling.

“I don’t understand,” the chief lamented in the dark.

“I am them,” Seth turned on his side, to face Mullins.

“What?” the police chief asked, in a combination of shock, curiosity, and human exhaustion. Humans fatigued so very quickly.

“Chief, have you been gaining muscle lately?’

“What?”

“Answer. Have you been gaining muscle lately? In the last three months?”

There was a pause. “Yes,” the chief answered finally. Twenty pounds. It had been welcome, and weird without a change in routine or diet.

“What’s your birthday?”

“McBride, what the hell?”

“Your birth date, Chief.”

“February 18th, McBride. What the hell?”

Seth did the math. “February 18th, 1981?”

The chief grunted in agreement.

“Yep, you’re mondjugen.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s German. Don’t ask me why. Wolves use a lot of German.”

“Wolves?”

“Jesus, Mullins, use your brain. What do you think Alpha Pete is? What Carlos and Bill and I are?”

The human was silent. He’s slumped onto his side, to avoid the continued punishment on his knees. “….I don’t know… they’re… you’re… you’re not human. You’re not normal.”

Chief always had a good head on his shoulders. Seth was gratified. Some humans would have already fallen apart into tears, wailing for their mummies. “We’re werefolk, Chief,” Seth increased his volume over Mullins’ scoffing. “But it’s not like in the movies. Not like Twilight or Harry Potter. Not… exactly.”

The other man scoffed, “Seth, don’t lie to me, I—”

“It’s the truth, Chief. I’ve been werefolk for fifteen years now.” Seth looked up at one of the narrow windows where the waxing moon’s light shone through. Seth could already feel the pull of Luna, three days in advance. “We measure by the moons,” he said, half reverently. “I’m up to 180 moons, would you believe? Look, we… we all became were. We were all born men, we’re still men in some ways. We work, we pay taxes, we try to lie low and endure and enjoy as best we can. Alpha Pete is the alpha. He’s in charge in these parts. But more than a boss or a police chief. It’s more than that.”

The chief was breathing harder. It was all so much.

“Just keep breathing,” Seth assured. “Look, I swear to Luna what I’m telling you is the truth. Don’t ask me how it all started. We don’t know. Honestly, we don’t. Longer than the history books. There are stories that try to explain it, but it’s no more certain or believable than Greek myths about Zeus, or American Indian stuff.”

“How did you become a wolf?” the chief, his criminal investigation instincts kicking in.

“I got bit,” Seth said simply. That was a story for another time. “Chief, any man can be a wolf. Any guy. There’s no moral failing, no curse on you. But most men don’t survive it. A wolf that bites just keeps on biting and soon that man has turned into dinner.” Seth paused, then resolved to continue. “For a certain few, they’re special, and pre-disposed to become werewolves. Guys like me. Guys like you.”

“Like me? Like what?”

“Mondjugen. Born under the full moon. I’m two years behind you. May 27th, 1983. Happy birthday to me. Under a full moon. When you’re mondjugen, and you encounter a wolf, you feel attracted to it. Pheromones you don’t even realize you’re smelling. The growls and the grunts and the sighs that attract you like a mating call, a wolf whistle that will mean nothing to a person, they attract mondjugen. And gradually you begin to imprint on your wolf.”

“My wolf?”

“Alpha Pete,” Seth tried to be patient. “He’s your wolf, your wolfsire, we call it. A werewolf pack looking to expand their pack, they can take a mondjugen if the bond is strong. Fatherly instinct kicks in, and a wolfsire teaches his pup, protects him instead of eats him. And the wolf pup won’t likely run off or cause trouble. Packs can abide by that. Packs cannot be made vulnerable. So it’s not immediate. When the mondjugen is fully entranced, the wolfsire will take his pup for the pack.”

“Take his pup?”

“Bite you, transform you, perform the triple baptism. Make you were.” Seth hated to dump all this information on the mortal, a man he’d considered a professional colleague and friend before this night. But it was obvious that Chief Mullins was mondjugen, that Alpha Pete had bewitched him entirely, and he would soon join the brotherhood. No need to sugarcoat it.

“But I’ve known you for years, McBride. I didn’t—imprint—” the chief struggled with the word. “I didn’t on you.”

“Lots of showers, lots of clothes washing, lots of standing at a distance,” Seth explained. “I wasn’t looking for a mondjugen.” Not until recently, Seth thought in his head.

“How do you find us? People like me?” Chief Mullins asked.

“We don’t,” Seth said into the darkness. “Mondjugen don’t carry a special scent. There’s no special trick, no trail of breadcrumbs that leads us to you. Mondjugen need to find their own way home, as we say, if Luna wills it.”

“Seth, I can’t—it’s all too—”

“Chief, don’t fight it, just listen. You’re mondjugen, you’ve been snared into service by an Alpha. And you’re valuable. A police chief. That’s useful, just like I was with the park service…” Seth signed. “The next step is the bite. You’re going to be made were soon.”

“I got a family, a wife and kids,” Mullins protested into the dark. His voice sounded lonely and small.

Seth had no response.

“When?” Mullins asked.

“It’s the full Moon in three days’ time, praise Luna,” Seth answered. “Alpha Pete cannot resist a little bit of ceremony.”

The Chief was silent.

“We’re able to change, day and night, as we choose. But on full moons, on those nights, we have no choice. The transformation comes to us, we don’t choose it. And we become truly feral then. Like truly. The human side of us becomes just a dream, and the wolf is in charge. There’s some control the rest of the month, but not that night. That’s when.”

“So you’ll be feral in three days too,” the chief asked. “They want you to go feral. With them.”

Nail meets head.

“I usually lock myself in my basement when Luna comes,” Seth admitted. “I leash myself up, and just endure until I wake up on the morning. But this month, Alpha Pete will let me loose into the woods.” To humiliate me, and put me to whatever use he pleases, Seth thought, not voicing this part. The feral beast that emerged, that other side of Seth would be truly loyal to his Alpha. A werewolf pack on a full moon out in the wild, that was a powerful and truly dangerous thing indeed.

“The oral, the sex?” the chief asked.

“No women ever become werewolves, Chief,” Seth answered. “Again, I don’t know why. Honestly, we don’t. It’s Luna’s will. Maybe she’s jealous, wants all the males to herself,” Seth tried a joke, but it did not elicit even a chuckle. Disappointed, Seth continued. “Wolves… we just want men. We want them. All the time. Your libido, your musk, your performance in bed… it’s a whole new world. Homo, gay, queer—whatever you call it, we’re men and turn our lust to muscle and hair and cock and male ass. As wolves and as men. Believe me, you’ll soon love it. It sounds like you already loving it.”

“I’ll get away,” the chief assured. His voice was scared. “I’ll get into my car and get away.”

Seth pitied him. The chief thought he still had a choice. From what he’d seen, it was far too late. And even if the chief could get away, there was no way he’d get far enough. Three days time…

Seth could hear the man breathing deeply, holding back tears. “Just breathe, chief,” Seth said, speaking into the dark, trying to get comfortable on this awful, tax-payer provided mattress. “Just breathe.”

“Mountain Peak Gyms,” Yousef answered that next morning, the phone already ringing when he was raising up the sliding metal security door.

“Is this Yousef Abraham?” the voice on the other end inquired, sounding official and bored.

“The same,” he replied. Yousef as a prime young buck, of Lebanese extraction, tall and filled out in his chest, with beautiful raven hair, ancient eyes, and a prominent masculine profile, a beautiful grin framed by a trim beard. He was turning his years of experience as a personal trainer to make a go at it with this gym. It was largely hand-me-down equipment, and in a converted supermarket building. But the rent was cheap, he was making rent, covering the insurance, and growing his client base. And for the last three months, he’d really been making some gains. The lats and traps especially, hosting a forest of wiry black body hair. His gym crush Seth really had been a huge help.

“Sir, I have a Seth McBride on the line,” said the unnamed voice. “He’s currently in jail awaiting charges for murder and aggravated robbery. He wanted his one phone call to be you.”

“What the fuck?” Yousef felt his heartbeat speed. He took the phone away from the reception counter into the small windowless office behind it. “I mean… what happened?”

“Sir, I cannot talk about the case. I’ll put him on,” the voice responded, using a tone as it this were a situation like a parking ticket or building code citation. The line was silent for a second.

“Yus, you there?” Seth came on at last, using his friend’s nickname.

“Yeah,” Yousef answered. “Seth, what the hell?? What’s going on? They said—”

“Yus, don’t talk, just listen. The charges are crap. It’ll all be taken care of in two days. I need you to do something for me.”

“Seth, the officer said this was a mur—”

“Yus,” Seth continued, ignoring him. “Open the bottom right drawer of your desk.”

“What,” Yousef said, still confused.

“Just do it!” Seth barked through the line. And Yus felt a stirring deep in his brain. He looked over to his right, and opened the bottom drawer. On top of the papers, was a white standard-issue jock strap. One that was stretched and yellowed with use.

“Seth?” Yus looked down in surprise, mystified.

“Put it to your nose and smell it, Yus,” Seth directed.

Any normal mortal straight man would have recoiled at this direction. But Yousef was not a normal mortal straight man. For his birthdate was October 14, 1989.

The jock was now in his hand. It was dry, but the smell was reaching Yousef’s nostrils even at arms length distance. “Seth?” Yousef didn’t want to smell the jock. But he was struggling with an even greater fear—letting his best friend down.

“Smell it, Yousef,” Seth directed, urgently. “Trust me. Smell it. Smell it deep.”

Yousef was weirded out. Allah in Heaven, he thought to himself. And then brought the jock right to his nose and drew in a sniff.

“You smelled it?” Seth asked through the line.

There was silence on the other end, and then a dreamy “yes” reply.

Praise Luna, Seth breathed in relief. That jock with his own scent planted in the desk had always been his long shot insurance policy.

“Yus, there’s something dangerous out there. Something I cannot explain right now. Follow orders. You’ll be a good boy, right, Yus?”

“Yes,” Yus answered dreamily on the other end of the line. Seth could hear more sniffing, deeper and more urgent. Greedy boy, Seth couldn’t help a smile. He loved his mondjugen.

“Two nights from now, stay inside. Close the gym early, get home as soon as you can. Take a long hot shower, lots of soap. Lots of soap. Close every window, and don’t answer the door. Not for anyone. Got it?”

Silence on the other line. Just more sniffing. “Got it?” Seth urged.

“Yes,” Yusef answered.

“Now put the jock away,” Seth directed. “I need to hear you put it away in the drawer.

Yousef complied, and Seth heard the drawer shut.

“Forget you know about the jock. Erase it from your mind.”

Yousef agreed, dreamily.

“I’ll see you in three days,” Seth promised. He hoped he could keep that promise.

Yousef tried to get word in, but the line was already dead.

“Aw yeah, fuck me, alpha!” Bill keened desperately, thrashing his head back and forth atop his muscular, pulsing neck. He looked up from his prone position to the thrusting Alpha atop him. Bill gritted his teeth. The room smelt of the sheet’s fabric softener, Alpha’s beard oil, and a second round of hot wet ass sex. The thrusts were coming hot and rapid now. Pinned down, all Bill could contribute were enthusiastic and encouraging grunts to meet each volley, and his own pelvis maneuvering keeping his hole high and open. His thighs were up and wide, as only a truly aroused and eager bottom could manage.

“Fucking slut,” Alpha Pete panted deeply, looking exhausted but not done. He breathed in deep and hocked a loogie right in Bill’s face. Bill gasped and tongued desperately at it, trying to taste the saliva. Alpha Pete thrust again, coring in deep. Bill’s face and neck twitched at the poke he felt, and his expression went blank and peaceful.

Alpha Pete grinned. He’d found the reset button.

Three days since Bill’s transgression of staying late at the club, he was back in Alpha Pete’s good graces. Enough to receive the treat of being folded in half. Bill smiled like a spoiled brat. He’d never been this well-fucked until he’d joined Alpha Pete’s pack two months ago. He’d never known it could be this good. Wolves, despite their adherence to loyalty and deference to their Alpha’s, tended practice fluid pack relations; the weres’ inclination for hot-headedness and wandering eyes also contributed comings and goings from an individual pack. That was why Alphas were so territorial to land as opposed to pack members. A wolf in an Alpha’s territory was the Alpha’s: Solider, Hunter, and Hole. Seven tended to be the natural limit to a pack’s size. Any smaller and the pack would struggle to defend their territory. Any larger and an Alpha risks some hothead challenging his claim from within.

But back to Bill: he grunted, smiling mischievously, white-knuckling the sheets. This cock was almost too good. Bill was dead set on ensuring he’d remain with Alpha Pete. The two went at it another ten minutes before Alpha Pete’s grunts went deeper.

“Aw yeah, I’m gonna shoot!”

Bill met that declaration with a burst of pleading grunts, and him pulling his thighs further out. His well-shaped feet waved above them in the air like kites.

Alpha Pete began grunting and raging as his thrusts slowed and his hip movements began to weave and bob. “Aw yeah, Alpha Pete! Please cum in meee!!” Bill laid it on thick, with his southern drawl at its thickest. He knew his Alpha loved verbal.

Soaking wet with sweat, Alpha Pete smiled down at his pack member in satisfaction. Bill winked back and gave his trademark dynamite grin again. For a moment, they appreciated each other, the only sound being panting, almost in unison. Bill nodded then as he felt Alpha Pete’s member purposeful pulsing inside of him.

Another moment more, and Alpha Pete felt his urges replenish. “Come on,” Alpha Pete gave a commanding whistle, and motioned for Bill to flip over. Bill complied, managing to keep Alpha Pete inside of him as he rolled onto all fours.

A well-fucked pack was a loyal pack, the old saying went, and Alpha Pete ensured loyalty.

Bill crossed his forearms on the bedspread and leaned his head on them like a pillow. He splayed his thighs out, arching his back to keeping his ass high, Alpha Pete already thrusting again to the sound of squelching with each bottoming out. Bill closed his eyes and savored the scent, the sound, the wetness, the feeling of steel wire pubes scratching his hole. There was no better honor than getting railed by one’s Alpha. Praise Luna, no better honor.

Alpha’s unseen hand came from behind and held on to Bill’s head, holding him down firmly and using it as an anchor as the alpha then reared up, holding his own upper body aloft. The better to fuck you with. Pinning his arms against the bed spread, Bill was immobilized. He lay still and endured the full-on ploughing, grunting, and trying to muster up more words of encouragement. His eyes stared at the sleeve tattoos on his arms. They meant little to him now. Obviously, they had meant something to the human that once had these arms. But to the wolf Bill today, they were just ambiguous markings, some Asian characters that he never bothered to look up. Human things didn’t interest him anymore, unless they affected the pack. Soon, his vision was blurring with sweat and salt. The thrusts and gasps above him were increasing again. Bill gritted and continued making animalistic noises through his teeth. Alpha spat again, on Bill’s tight, muscular back, causing him to grunt and thrust his rear back up more. He bared down, wiggling his bubble and clutching Alpha’s searing hot pole skillfully. He wanted so badly to please his Alpha.

“Fuck yes!” Alpha Pete howled, spending himself powerfully. Bill panted in victory as he felt his master unloading inside in giant amounts. Alpha could issue seed up to a pint at a time (a bar bet once had proved the measurement), and Bill already had received two rounds that day. The third left him with a wonderful luxurious heavy feeling. He sighed, almost drunk, barely able to speak, as he felt his Alpha withdraw. His hole felt lonely all of a sudden as it snapped back into shape.

“Boom! That’s a sexy fucker!” Alpha pulled out with a manly laugh, giving Bill’s plump splayed-out ass a loud spank. Without the cock holding him up, Bill collapsed into his belly, panting, trying to catch his breath. He gave a low moan and smiled as he felt a muscular man-tongue invade his wet hole. He clenched his teeth and breathed out deeply. His wet, pulsing anus savored the deep lick. Alpha Pete gave a final grunt right between the cheeks of his pack member, jangling every nerve in Bill’s pelvis.

“Nice sloppy hole for a nice sloppy pup,” Alpha Pete drug himself up next to the collapsed Bill and drew the smaller man into a little spoon position. “You’re so good,” he whispered into Bill’s ear, and slicked the back of his pack member’s neck. Bill smiled at the scent of himself on his Alpha’s breath, and the scent of Alpha now on his skin. Bill reached down to his own rear and mopped up some of the leaking slick with his fingers. He brought his wet hand up to his chest and smeared it around. He needed the scent on him. He needed this as much as he needed oxygen. Bill craned his neck around and saw the big spoon Alpha Pete looking on, approving. Bill felt a zing of triumph and his body jerked reflectively.

Alpha Pete’s eyes glowed yellow.

That was the tell, Bill knew, of a truly aroused wolf. They could clothe their fur, glove their claws, conceal their nature with human manners. However, no wolf—from pup to alpha—no wolf in true arousal, be it fear, exhilaration, or the rut, could conceal their yellow peepers.

“Good boy,” Alpha Pete murmured back at his yellow-eyed bottom, the lids half closed with satisfaction and hard-earned satiation. They savored the moment a few seconds more, the boss giving his boy a few playful phantom thrusts while Bill continued to mop off the leavings of their sex and frost his body with it, scenting himself like a racehorse wears a garland of roses.

Bill savored Alpha Pete’s strong arms holding him close and his hairy muscular chest and abdomen pressed against his slick back. The Alpha savored the many smells emanating from his pup and his warm, pulsing form. The kid was almost buzzing, Alpha Pete marveled, feeling his own satisfaction.

But no stolen moment of paradise can last forever.

“Come on,” Alpha Pete gave his Bill another spank as he hopped up off the bed in his dormer attic bedroom. “We got an errand to do before Luna comes.”

Bill followed him, pulling on his sleeveless t-shirt and jeans that had been tossed in the corner earlier. He made no effort to clean off the slick from their coupling. What reason in all the world would there be to wash off the hard-won scent of his Alpha?

Yousef was a little grateful for his full schedule. It was noontime now, and every afternoon slot was filled; this high school sophomore starting weight train, that newly retired cougar who wanted to add weights alongside her Pilates, this color-coordinated camo compression gear girl, that guy with the mismatched gym socks. He’d even got a call that morning to fill the 5 pm to 6 pm slot. The gym owner gave a small prayer of thanks to Allah. A full calendar meant paid bills, paid rent, and something besides basic meal prep that week. It had been a risk to start the gym on his own, especially out here in the sticks. Yousef felt lucky.

Yousef was also thankful because those full slots meant he could think about something other than Seth. His friend had refused visitation at the police station, and there had been no more phone calls. Yousef presumed his friend’s phone had been inventoried when he’d been taken in. Seth had not yet been arraigned, so his efforts to get an attorney were left in wait-and-see mode. It left Yousef only to worry. To top it all off, his identify theft alert software had gone off that morning, and he’d needed to skip his first-thing cardio session to double-check his accounts and change his banking and email passwords. People sucked. He was thankful the pump never did.

The day’s mail had just come, including two plastic bags of new t-shirts and dress shirts. Yousef smiled and tucked those into his gym bag in the office. He had been making the most amazing gains this month. It was crazy. He gave a nice flex from the desk to the wall mirror across the room. It gave him a zing. He’d been training for years, and it was so gratifying. Seth’s gonna be so proud… Yousef thought. Then he got sad. His poor friend. Yousef sighed. It had been a rough few days of worry. Then he smiled. He knew what would distract him. Yousef glanced at the clock—yeah, he could spare a minute. The shorter Lebanese man ducked into the changing room, found a mirror without anyone nearby changing, and shucked his shirt. And he preened.

Yousef marveled at his form in wonder. He looked like he’d gone through three or four bulk-and-cut sessions and was ready for a bodybuilder show. No joke, any other coach would think Seth had been training two sessions daily for two months. Actually, Yousef knew he had been a bit slack lately while he’d been focusing on opening up the gym, the paperwork, the endless logistics and deliveries and delays. Yousef flexed and his eyes popped inadvertently at his bicep peak. Oh my… Yousef shook his head. His pecs were so full, the cleft between them so deep. The meeting of chest and shoulder and neck… Leonardo couldn’t have done it better, Yousef felt more than a little proud. On any other guy, he’d immediately assume roids, but Youseff was natty, completely.

And the energy. These past two months, it was just boundless, and the aches and pains of recovery just never seemed to show up. “I know this isn’t right,” Yousef whispered to himself in the mirror, and then gave an Arnold pose, straining his eyes to see his muscular back and delts, all culminating to his narrow waist. No roid gut there. It was… stunning. Maybe he didn’t give himself enough credit, Yousef shrugged his shoulders. No—he was a personal trainer. He knew what it took to create and keep gains like this.

So the only thing left for Yousef was denial. This was all right because it had to be all right. He knew he was all natural, so all this had to be natural. He was committed to enjoying the pump, the size. And it was easy to just drift into the amazing sensation of muscle. And enjoying seeing his traps rise like mountains as he shrugged his worries off, almost in-humanly…

Putting his tight shirt back on and coming back to the front desk and office, Yousef fell into the habit of looking down at the lower right desk drawer. He felt the urge to unlock it, open it, to clutch the prize inside. Yousef had already broken down once and done so, two nights prior. He’d gotten good and stupid, huffing the stink, slobbering like a dog, and panting until he came in his gym clothes, curled in a ball of the blessedly closed gym. He’d shoved the garment back in the draw, locking it up. It took twenty of minutes of showering to get the scent off his human muzzle and for his thoughts to clear. It made no damn sense; the human shook his head if he allowed himself to think on it too long. None of it did. Yousef tried to put it out of his mind. He tried.

He’d already broken one promise to Seth, returning to the jock. He didn’t want to break another. He had a strict note in his calendar to go home that evening, and had a videogame date set up with a cousin in California. He’d arranged for one of the other trainers to lock things up at the regular 9 p.m. closing time. After showering.

Seth could be weird, Yousef allowed himself a moment of honesty. What the fuck was so bad out there, after closing? His family had escaped civil war in Beirut in the 1980’s and worked their way up out of refugee poverty here in the states. He’d survived the teasing and wrestling sessions with his cousins. Yousef was well-disciplined with his fitness and had the entrepreneurial spirit to create a small business. He wasn’t afraid of anything. He didn’t need protecting.

But Seth was his bro, his gym crush, his… the jock scent flashed through his mind… his friend, Yousef forced the definition. In fact, Yousef now almost regretted adding that 5 p.m. training session, hoping to keep his promise to be home and shuttered by nightfall. But he needed the money. And darkness wouldn’t come until 8 p.m. or so.

Yousef glanced at the bags of new shirts in his open gym bag, sighed a bit in satisfaction at the increasing tightness of his shirt around his lats, and headed back out to the gym floor.

The clock struck four, and Carlos ran down the hall from the holding cells to the police station’s front office. The front offices smelled like photocopier ink, cans of Red Bull and Mountain Dew in the recycling bin, and human male body odor. That took some getting used to for the pack. In times of old, a pack would be tracking that scent, a telltale sign that a shepherd’s sheep or a farmers’ cow was near and available for the taking. A human was a rare thing indeed for a pack to hunt; humans tended to travel in packs of their own, and unlike the other herds and flocks, men never forgot when one of their own was preyed upon.

Carlos wore a police uniform now. Chief Mullins had ensured a cover story so the pack could continue to access the police station at all hours. Something about a major grant from the state for local law enforcement hiring. Whatever bullshit it took to keep the other officers’ accepting and docile.

Carlos had broken out in laughter the first time he’d tried the uniform on. His upper body barely allowed him to shrug the garment over his shoulders and forget about buttoning the thing up. Some additional ordering (just how fat are these fuckers? The uniform distributer had protested when they’d called ahead) and some speedy tailoring (Bill was amazing with a needle) had fixed it up. And now the pack members were the boys in blue. You couldn’t be too careful these days.

“Chief,” Carlos said, giving the human his honorific. It was against the wolf code to use silly made-up human titles, but it was a necessary with so many unsuspecting humans scurrying about this place. “It’s time to release McBride.”

Mullins and two patrol officers looked up from the reports he was reviewing. The Chief signed, his moustache fidgeting. “Yes, Sargent,” Mullins played his part.

The other officers in the collection of desks and tables looked up, in confusion. “What, the murder/burglary case, Chief?” one of them asked.

“I just got a call exonerating him,” Chief Mullins said matter-of-factly as he got up from his desk in the bullpen, cutting a fine figure now, so much so a few of the cops noticed the difference. “We have the wrong man.” He proceeded to the holding cells.

“A call? You didn’t get shit—”one of the other officers called after him, but then the door slammed on them. Mullins and Carlos walked purposely onwards.

“Where is Sir?” Mullins whispered urgently as he and Carlos walked into the line of holding cells. One held a DUI from that prior evening, the second was vacant, and the third held a very grouchy and very bored Seth.

“Alpha’s doing a last-minute errand, runt,” Carlos emphasized the pack’s own title for mondjugen, even as he waived away the man’s concern. Carlos sighed. Mondjugen were all a bundle of nerves and questions.

Mullins winced at the disrespect he received but accepted it. He wanted his Sir. The past few days, Alpha Pete had ensured the man remained good and addicted, barely letting his cock away from Mullins’ mouth. Mullins excused his absence to his family by ‘mandatory’ overtime and having to speak to an accountant. He’d had some attempted hacks at his personnel file (State Government system) and bank accounts, so it wasn’t completely a lie. Mullins sighed. It had been a long of a week.

It was only just today that Alpha Pete was absent from the station. But Carlos was not letting his guard up.

“I wonder,” Seth leaned into the sliding cell door, his arms casually draped through the bars as the two uniformed cops approached his cell. “Does the Bill of Rights apply to the were?”

Mullins looked at Seth, mystified.

“Right to due process for life, liberty… right to a speedy trial… you know, all that fun human stuff,” Seth said, and then yipped as Carlos punched one of his arms, stuck as they were through the bars.

“Smart ass,” Carlos set to unlocking the bars, not even looking at his pack mate. “If I were alpha, I’d beat you so bad, I wouldn’t even leave a smudge… runt!” Carlos shouted then and gave a kick at the only human in this trio.

“Mr. McBride,” I’ve received call exonerating you,” Mullins plunged ahead, playing his part. “You’ll be released without a criminal record and—”

“Thanks Chief,” Seth interjected. “You’re a real pal.” His soul sank a little, seeing Mullins looked so compliant, so surrendered. He remembered well the independent chief from earlier years, and the eager-to-escape one from two nights prior. We shall see what we shall see, Seth thought. He looked over to Carlos. “I’ll go quietly, as they say. What’s the plan?”

“We head up the state route into the forest, meet up with the fellas there,” Carlos said as he slid the cell door open. “Right away.”

“And the chief,” Seth eyed the human.

“He’s with us,” Carlos said. He looked over at Mullins. “And you will be a good runt, won’t you, runt? Alpha’s gonna be waiting.”

Mullins nodded, shivering at the mention of his sir, but also looking petrified.

They headed out the back of the police station and into the rear parking lot, smelling of gasoline slick, weed killer, and their Alpha’s own lingering stink. All three smiled at bit at that last one. They passed row on row of Crown Victoria’s and one slightly shabby D.A.R.E. mobile. Carlos’ F-150 was at the end, by the dumpsters.

Mullins was half-helped, half-dumped into the truck bed, and the two wolves were in the truck cab. “Talk!” Seth demanded when Carlos slammed the drivers’ side door. “What the fuck is up with the mondjugen?”

“Alpha’s gonna tell you, Ferret,” Carlos shook his head, and put the truck into drive.

“I’ll still act surprised,” Seth said. “I spent three days in a holding cell practicing my “oh wow!” face. Talk.”

Carlos’ sigh was almost drowned out by the crunching of gravel as his truck turned out of the parking lot onto the state route.

“Seth, I…” Carlos. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“Is it Alpha Schreider again?” Their neighboring pack was always licking its chops to poach on their territory.

“It’s bigger than that. It’s bigger than all the packs,” Carlos shook his head. He kept his face to the road, his large, powerful arms steering the wheel expertly.

“All the packs?” Seth asked. He looked forward at the windshield and the road. “Is it the vamps?” Vampires, in all their elegance and treachery and tiresome dinner parties, tended to keep to the alabaster and wrought iron of the big cities. Rural areas and wilderness were the domain of the were.

“Not vampires. No, it’s… it’s Alpha’s privilege to tell you, claro.” Carlos looked forward.

Seth sensed pressing further would do no good. He signed and sat back; riding shut gun. He looked out at the passing buildings, a Jiffy Lube, a McDonalds, a gun store, a car wash. He closed his eyes and let the scents wash over him: motor oil, cooking grease, gun oil, soap. Anything but that awful urine-soaked hellhole of a jail cell was an improvement. Seth sniffed in again and smelt Carlos. Amazing, virile, stinky-in-all-the-right-ways Carlos. Seth looked over to his left and just looked at his pack mate for a moment. The U.S. Park Ranger allowed himself to a minute to admire those thick arms of the large Latino stallion. It had been a while since he and Carlos had shared a bed, Seth thought.

An Alpha owned—absolutely owned—the holes of his pack. But that claim was against other Alphas. So long as the leader of the pack was kept good and satisfied, it was share and share alike among pack members, as far as were-folk were concerned.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Carlos?” Seth said, flirtatiously. A tried and true way to distract a wolf was to whore yourself out.

“Gonna be a while more, Ferret,” Carlos cut him off, and turned on the radio. “Tempting, but I already had a pint or three this morning,” he winked over at the passenger, Carlos’ dark eyes flashing knowingly. “I’m already quite full.”

Damnit! Damnit Alpha Pete!! McBride cursed himself. Always one step ahead.

Seth slumped back down in the seat. Carlos had always been a goody-two-shoes about pack business. Not that Seth was exactly the best of pack-members. Half-pouting, half pretending to pout, Seth tried to think of another way to get at the weird mysterious intel on mondjugen. For Luna’s sake, what the fuck was going on here?!

Seth simmered internally as the F-150 with a whimpering police chief in the open back bed weaved its way into the woods.

“Don’t fret, Ferret” Carlos said, shifting into lower gear. “Alpha’s got a plan.”

“Yousef,” one of the other trainers waved over to the gym owner. “Your five o’clock’s here.”

“Great,” Yousef smiled as he walked up from the stretching area. He was bushed and sweaty from an entire day of training. There had been some really great clients today. It was always gratifying to have people who really wanted to learn, to get healthier, to stay healthy. Yousef really responded to that. He was all sweaty; his shirt soaking… “Where is he?” Youseff asked. The desk area was vacant besides he and his colleague.

“Parking lot,” the colleague shrugged (after this, she matters not). “Wanted to meet outside.”

Every client was different. Some had gym-intimidation issues. Yousef had seen it all “All righty,” he forced a smile as every small business owner must. He hoped this last hour session wasn’t going to turn into a therapy session about how mommy didn’t give enough love and coach made him or her feel small once. Inshallah…

Yousef exited the gym through the automatic doors that had once greeted shopping carts and scanned the parking lot. One man was present, leaning against a large van… This had to be a joke. The guy was tall and incredibly muscular, like a fighting league supervillain. The guy didn’t need an intro for personal training; he needed an intervention on steroid abuse, from the look of that torso and shoulders. What was he doing here?

“You Coach Yousef?” the man smiled as the gym owner approached. Behind him, Yousef could see another man, a very happy-looking guy in the van’s driver seat, with a tattoo-sleeved arm draped out the drivers’ side window. The man gave him a playful wink.

“Yes?” Yousef said softly, a little weirded out. The two men looked at him strangely. An instinct from he knew not where emerged. He took one step back. Then the man relaxed, visibly. Yousef’s nostrils fared and his head grew a bit woozy. Seth? Yousef thought in his mind. He drew in a more purposeful sniff through his nose. Only Seth had made him feel like this before. Seth took a step forward now and adjusted himself a little sheepishly in his gym shorts.

“Awesome, I’m Pete,” the red-bearded man gave a satisfied grin and reached out his hand.

“Alpha’s got a plan,” Carlos had assured. That plan did not include a deer strike.

“Mother fucker!” Seth swore, pumped with adrenaline and he and Carlos struggled to get out of the F-150, both through the passenger side window. The blood-and-antler smattered truck had careened across the road and into the left-side ditch, and now leaned crippled at a 45-degree angle. “You okay, Mullins!?”

“Yeah,” the chief answered, shaking in the truck bed, partially covered by the leaves and branches that now draped over the left side of the truck.

The human smelt of sweat and piss and human blood. His nose dripped a bit, but otherwise, he looked unharmed. “Praise Luna,” Seth breathed, nodding. Turning his attention back to the problem at hand, he grimaced. It had been a direct hit to the front grill of the truck. One leaping buck, now pulverized ground meat both here and for the past fifty yards. Not even a wolf’s reflexes could have avoided this one.

Fuck all those do-gooder tree huggers and their God-damned injunction against the controlled deer hunts!!! Seth cursed. There’d be a memo about this to the district park service office on Tuesday.

The windshield was smashed into a spiderweb of prisms, a splattering of rainbows now dotting the driver’s cab as the sun started to set along the western-leading road. The smell of deer blood was everywhere. Everywhere. Seth’s nostrils flared and his stomach rumbled.

“Mother fucker!!” Carlos shouted from the other side of the truck.

“I’m… afraid… to… ask…” Seth panted heavily. He was still feeling the adrenaline.

“God-damned axle’s bent!” Carlos shouted, unseen from the front of the truck, extremely upset. He popped back up from his crouch and kicked the vehicle with his boot. Seth let out another heavy sigh and leaned against the side of the crippled F-150.

Carlos made his way back through the ditch at the front of the vehicle and came around. Seth’s eyebrows raised. Carlos was now sporting a full beard.

Carlos paused upon sight of his pack mate. “Ay, McBride, Luna’s here already,” he said, and then convulsed. Seth put his hand on the side of the truck bed to steady himself. He also convulsed. Griping the truck harder, Seth saw that the hand was already a paw. It slipped a bit, no longer able to grip.

“Mullinsh,” Seth called out, beginning to panic. He already slurring his words, his lips retreating, his jaw jutting out. Carlos was grunting heavily, stumbling now to all fours. “The crash, the rush, the… the ruththththth… ya gotta…” Seth’s mind raced. The rush of adrenaline, the accident. They were shifting early. Luna was calling

They were isolated, miles from anything. Seth scanned Mullins with his failing eyes. No side arm, no utility belt. Alpha was clever. And no radio. “Mullinsh, ya gotta... ya godda… Mul… Muhhhh…” Then Seth’s thoughts clouded. His nose asserted itself as the dominant sense. And with a deep draw of his lengthening snout, he looked down at the screaming human. Scented by Alpha. Alpha leaking from his hole, his mouth, his pores. Alpha’s Mondjugen.

There was the scent of deer blood everywhere, and ditch water and noxious car exhaust. Pine needles and katydids and a muskrat lair full of June kits right below them. Miles of forest and its thousand scents around them. Two big hulking virile werewolves. One recently scented, another’s more faint. And one noisy mondjugen. By the smell of him, sweating and pissing and shitting and making a fuss in front of them, this mondjugen needed his Alpha and bad.

Fabric ripped and fur was shook free. The creaking of bones and stretching of muscle was heard as the wolves asserted themselves. Leather split and paws stepped out of boots. Glowing yellow eyes stared back at the noisy mondjugen. The noisy mondjugen trying to get away.

The smell of deer blood was everywhere. But it was mixed with broken glass and gasoline, and the two wolves understood to stay away from it. Their focus was on the mondjugen.

The big wolf lunged over to block it and batted it down. The mondjugen tried to get up and run again. Again, the big wolf batted it down. The mondjugen, scented by Alpha, lay there, screaming. The other one, the sly wolf nudged him with its snout. The mondjugen did not get up.

The big wolf and the sly wolf howled as dusk settled. Alpha’s Mondjugen. They must bring the scented mondjugen to their Alpha. They howled. He screamed. The big wolf bit in expert-like, to hold but not to kill. The two pack mates drug the mondjugen off into the trees.

[Readers: Keep the comments and critiques coming; It makes me buzz like an aroused pup to know you’re enjoying the story, engaging with my ideas, etc. Now, to the pack…]

“They should be here by now, damnit,” Alpha Pete fretted, pacing to and fro in front of the van. He and Bill had already removed their clothing so as to avoid ripping their duds apart. The two hulking hunks, Alpha Pete a mountain of muscle, and Bill smaller but catching up as his wolfhood advanced, were thus nude in the campsite clearing despite the twilight chill (Seth’s U.S. Park Service employee discount really came in handy with the fee). Werefolk did not carry the same shame as men in regard to their naked forms. However, this instance was just as necessary as it was enjoyable, so near was their time with Luna.

The pack was assembling. The final two members, Larry and Tom, were within sniffing distance. In a lot of ways, their scents were melded together in the memories of their pack brothers; the two muscle daddies were seldom apart. Larry, raised a good Tennessee gentlemen with the twang to match, had been with the pack ever since Alpha Pete first set up shop. Tom, a tough and large wolf, third in size only to Alpha Pete and Carlos, came later, a refugee of sorts from inter-pack strife in the Great Big Woods of the North.

No wolf could ever be truly sexually exclusive, what with their duty to their Alpha and the compulsion for physical affection being so important to maintain a pack’s bonds. But Larry and Tom’s bond was just an unusually close one, in terms of temperament and hobbies. Larry had a wonderful singing voice in his human from, and Tom could just about keep up on the ivories in their shared homestead. It made for a convenient pack homebase of sorts, particularly useful since the modular home was a good distance off in the secluded woods, and Alpha Pete’s bathroom renovation was forever being delayed.

The two were rapidly approaching, Bill could tell from the scent. He turned his meager human muzzle to the heavens and sniffed in deeply. The camping site smelled of old beer spilled into the soil, dusty earth, and encroaching trees. Bill smiled. By Luna’s grace, his sense of smell was improving rapidly.

“You catch a scent?” Alpha Pete asked urgently, noting his pack member’s grin. He began sniffing the wind urgently.

“The air freshener in the van. It’s pine.” Bill nodded back at the silhouette of a pine tree hanging from the rear-view. He knew what his Alpha Pete meant, but tried at a joke. He then had to duck to miss Alpha’s wrecking-ball of a fist.

“Idiot!” the Alpha spat and began pacing anew. He was now truly worried. Yes, Seth was a fuck-up, but Carlos? Carlos was his rock; strong, dependable, fiercely loyal. Plus the three pints of Alpha spunk Carlos had received that morning. Alpha Pete chuckled, recalling. That had been truly enjoyable.

And his runt, the Alpha lamented, Chief Mullins, his poor defenseless mondjugen…

And then, praise Luna, just as Alpha Pete’s eyes began to glow amber, a whiff of wolf met his nostrils.

Two more wolves, Alpha Pete and Bill both breathed. And a human. A bleeding human. Another whiff, and Alpha Pete relaxed. It was his pack, his entire pack, assembling. He felt pride then, more than any human father can understand. Pride for his pack. At that same moment, Alpha Pete’s pelvis creaked and cracked, and he tumbled forward onto all fours.

Larry and Tom were in the clearing now, barking and chuffing, already fully transformed. Bill slipped into wolf form quickly and ran around the transforming Alpha Pete to join them, and the three jostled a bit, knowing at each other’s flanks, sniffing each other’s anuses. Bill smelt the two daddy wolves’ loads in each other. He yipped. Perhaps he would merit their second? Or the second from each, he hoped? Bill whined and wiggled greedily, wagging his tail.

“Fucking slut,” Alpha Pete observed, half annoyed, half amused, before his human mind faded into the background and the beast asserted himself. And then it was done; on Luna’s nights, the transformation was swift and never hurt.

A bark from Alpha, and the other three wolves paused and lowered their heads slightly. Luna was calling, and all the wolves understood that there were mondjugen to claim. One on his way now with their packmates, and the other stinking up the van alongside the campsite with human musk.

The wolf Bill was already hard. His first triple baptism night with the pack since he’d joined two months ago. This was going to be good.

Chief Mullins shielded his face as best he could as the wolf that bore him dashed through thorns and thicket. His spit-n-polish uniform was dirt-strewn and ragged, most of the ceremonial pins and gold buttons ripped off. But the basic fabric had held, shielding most of his body. He’d lost one shoe, his bare human foot raw after miles of dragging. Mullins’s head was another matter. Scratched, bleeding, red, it would take some time to heal. The cookie-duster mustache stood resolute, flecked with blood.

Mullins’ shoulder though was truly killing him. The large wolf Carlos had him in his jaw, but the grip was not lethal, and the teeth just gnawed and poked.

Mullins had regained his senses since the initial panic back at the deer strike. He tried calling out to the large wolf but got no reaction. No acknowledgment of his human calls, no faltering or slowing when Mullins tried to hit at its strong legs and muscular shoulders, or when he futilely reached up to try and beat at its snout. The other wolf, the sly-looking one, was similarly unresponsive. So instinct set in, and Mullins shielded his head with his arms as the forest sped by them and set his highest hopes on enduring whatever the night brought next. He really wished he had his sidearm with him.

And then… ahead of them, through the deeper-than-deep forest of trees, there was energetic, deep guttural barking.

The Alpha wolf howled in victory and arousal as he smelt his two pack mates and the mondjugen. All joined in. Praise Luna! They were all together: Alpha Pete, Larry, Tom, Bill.

And then, like a football team bursting through a paper ring into the playing field, the wolves Carlos and Seth jumped out of the ferns and into the circle. They smelled of deer blood and car exhaust and the freshness of the woods. They tossed the bleeding human into the center like a sack of potatoes; Mullins curled up into a ball instinctively to break his fall and protect his scratched-up head.

The blood caused a few of the wolves in the clearing to bark and paw the ground. It smelled so good. It took a few growls from the older wolves to ensure the ceremony of the night was not interrupted by the hungrier and more undisciplined of their brethren.

The man, a noisy little fucker, began shouting, and waving his arms, trying to keep the wolves at bay. The human’s pants were now shredded and his uniform shirt unbuttoned. He wailed in shock and fear as he looked this way and that, his animalistic panic coming to the surface. Looking around at the pack of wolves, the truly giant wolves, which surrounded him.

Mullins could see they were no normal wolves. Their backs were sloped instead of level, their forearms and chests too developed, too round, too strong to be a normal canine. But their eyes were yellow, their teeth were borne, their coats were shaggy, and their tails thrashed about muscularly. These were no men in fur-suits. Mullins was terrified.

Even more terrified when the largest of the wolves pounced from his side, tackled and pinning him to the forest floor.

Mullins gave another gasp. He closed his eyes and tried to be brave. But then, as he managed the controlled breathing he learned in basic, Mullins found his fear dissipated. He breathed in again. A lungful of musk and wolf breath entered. His muscles relaxed. Another breath: his face went lax. A third breath. He sighed and opened his eyes.

“Sir?” Mullins exhaled, opening his eyes, finding himself looking up at the large wolf that had pinned him down to the dust. And the mondjugen was home.

The Alpha wolf gave a low and long moan and muzzled the man with his snout.

Mullins smiled. He took in another large breath, inhaling wolf.

No time to waste, Alpha Pete growled. He was very satisfied. His head craned to the heavens, and the gaze of the entire pack followed. Luna, fully round and resplendent, was high in the sky. Her chariot of pearl shone down upon all of them, brighter than day, highlighting the silver strands in their fur. She shamed the sun. It was time.

All the wolves’ nostrils pulsed; their tongues wagged as they panted. This mondjugen was ripe for the plucking. They must not waste even another half-second. Luna was calling. The Alpha gave a sharp bark, and all the already-attentive wolves leaned in, forming a tight circle. The man was kneeling, looking up at them, looking scared, but not moving.

Without further ceremony, the Alpha lunged in. He chomped at the special spot where the neck and shoulder meet that only the were-folk knew. The man called out. The Alpha bit hard and deep and with purpose. And the blood ran. An Alpha does not bite mondjugen to kill. He bites to give life. Life to the pack, and life to the pup. All the encircled wolves bobbed and weaved their heads with nervous happiness and expectation. This man was so so so lucky. Lucky indeed!! A few began to pant. The man tensed and then released, trapped in the Alpha’s grip, tensed, and released, his mouth open in silent pain, struggling in vain against the gift that he so soon shall be so grateful for.

The wolves in the circle all shuddered and nodded. If any might got too excited and charged, the others would crowd him out and ensure no interruption. Everything was Alpha’s. Nothing was not Alpha’s. The Alpha would give his life for his pack without hesitation. Without question. And in return, all would serve Alpha, and all would give everything first and foremost to the Alpha. The two older wolves, whose scent was intertwined, both howled.

Alpha released his bite. The mondjugen dropped to the ground with a grunt and a whimper, instinctively curled into a ball of sorts, quiet, breathing deeply, his entire right shoulder and torso crimson. The Alpha growled low, the wolf version of a chant. And the pup’s service to Luna began. The pup groaned, struggling to get up into a crouching position on all fours. Then he spotted the pack again. His eyes gazed about… and then glowed yellow. Alpha gave a mighty commanding growl, and the man—this beautiful beautiful pup, now almost shining, by jove—so brawny and bodacious, followed the command.

Alpha and his brethren smiled inside. This was good. He would live. Some mondjugen perished from the bite; their bodies rejected it and so spitefully died. But this one would live, and soon would thrive, run, hunt, and rut.

Alpha roared and lunged. The mondjugen yelped in surprise and exhilaration as he was manhandled by his lord Alpha’s snout and snapping teeth and forced into a crouch on all fours. The other wolves darted forward from every direction like a Hungry-Hungry-Hippos playboard. They tugged and ripped at his clothing. The pup called out in confusion and sensation until he was left nude. This new one was revealed as a strong and muscular pup in human form. He appeared so small and defenseless, like a naked mole rat amongst these hulking wonders.

The mondjugen was racked in pain from the bite, still bleeding over his collarbone and scapula, but that sensation of pain and wet was quickly being drowned out by sensations of buzzing pleasure. The man’s manhood began to swell and bob between his legs, his meager human coat matted with sweat. The fear had left his face; instead, there was a hazy smile turning into a grin.

“Mondjugen,” the Alpha barked, and the man looked up. The wolf barked again, stronger. Submit. Spread. Open. Serve.

“Yes.” The man paused only a second before blurting out his response, smiling, gaping, panting. His yellow eyes were dreamy and half open. He smelled his Alpha, he saw his Alpha, he heard his Alpha. The entire world was his Alpha. “Take me, Alpha,” he said, hazily but clearly.

Alpha barked his pleasure. Good mondjugen. The massive wolf moved around the man three times, pacing deliberately on muscular legs, putting himself between the man and his pack, signaling his ownership, and dominance, and also scenting his pack, welcoming them in, at the same time. And then, with the last rotation, the Alpha moved to mount the pup.

Alpha’s wolf-cock was exposed and rigid-hard now, the pink head protruding from his dark coat. The pup moaned and lowered his chest as he felt the weight of his Alpha load upon his rear. The pup thrusted his pelvis skyward to meet his destiny. Every wolf could smell his open, eager hole, the juices of arousal flowing. The mondjugen assumed the position instinctively, just as ducklings know to follow their mother and salmon know which river to spawn in. A modjugen properly bitten just somehow, by the Grace of Luna, knows how to serve his Alpha.

Make no mistake, the Alpha thrust his thick cock into the man’s plump muscle ass. The man braced and accepted it with a gasping smile, his lungs sucking and expelling air more powerfully than a blacksmith’s bellow. But the powerful wolves’ thrust proved too much for his relatively weak human limbs, and the mondjugen was sent sprawling onto his belly.

“Get back up!” Alpha signaled with a bark. The man kept calling out in fear as the sex continued but obeyed. He got back to all fours and called out as each savage thrust was received. He called out in sensation, and eyes popping, called out in pleasure. As much as there was pain, there was also joy as his entire trunk was awash with the sensations of a deep rut.

The wolves watch, jostling one another, getting hard, panting without end. This mondjugen was so lucky to receive this gift. It was so good and so right. It was not immoral or wrong for a wolf, to destroy a man to create a wolf. This was how they all were wrought, from savage lovemaking and the ceremony’s additional two baptisms to come.

The man’s arms gave way again and he fell forward with a grunt. “Get up!!” Alpha’s bark commanded, batting his head from behind. The man cried and yelped, trying hard to get back up. Another punch—tough love—and he was back up again, his arms and legs quivering like sawhorses beneath a power saw.

The man’s hole between his muscular globes was stretched. It was Barbie-doll pink, but the gift of his new Alpha had turned it an angry firetruck red. The man callws out a deep grunt, and his manhood pulses out cum, powerful pumps into the earth below him, his balls visibly pulsing. All the wolves grunted and snuffled, taking the measure of the man some the scent of his sweat and his cum. All the while the man expressed his pleasure without shame until his grunts softened into deep signs as he panted. Panting felt so natural now. His tongue rolled out of his mouth—a tongue longer than any human could grow.

And then changes began.

The man’s wails turned to growls. His baby-smooth rear turned hairy and then shaggy. He gave a particularly brave bark—his first bark!!—as his tail unfurled. His cute little human toes turned to nails, the pale white pad of his foot turned black, and his hands gathered and thickened into tough paws. His human muzzle lengthened, and teeth emerged, sharp and dangerous. His tongue rolled out, long and pink.

Alpha roared in orgasm then, causing the man-now-wolf to give one last human welp of fear, and then his larynx and trachea changed into those of a proper wolf. There would be no more wails of men from this pup.

Alpha unloaded into him. And the seed took hold and implemented the final changes. The wolf’s still-human balls swelled to the size of grapefruits, and his cock grew a foot longer. His hole began to pulse and throb, and turned jet black, sopping wet with slickness. His guts gave a mighty gurgle, and all the cries of pain dissipated, now replaced solely by the whimpers of lupine pleasure.

Alpha barked! He barked with pride. This pup had taken to the transformation so well, as his growls communicated. All the fear, all the pain, all of it was worth it for what he had now become: a big wolf, strong and full and furry. And taking his Alpha’s cock like a champ. All the wolves jostled and yipped in celebration. This wolf could now take the strongest and most pulsing of thick werewolf cock. He could be properly plowed and plugged like a werewolf gentleman. Alpha barked, and his bark said, I am so proud of him.

Now exhausted, Alpha withdrew, and the wolf underneath him finally fell to the floor in exhaustion. He looked up, his yellow eyes dim-witted and dazed. But he was not afraid.

Those same eyes blinked as Alpha whipped his cock forward and began to urinate on the wolf. The wolf and the remains of the shredded police uniform, now forming a nest beneath him, were quickly drenched in the odor of Alpha. The wolf sucked in the smell, instinctively, compulsively bringing in the scent. It was a mind-fuck to him. All the wolves forever recalled their first scenting. No human could comprehend the power of it. When done, and only when done, Alpha beckoned the other wolves over. Starring up at the circle of wolf heads he had once feared so much, the young pup Mullins could now only gasp and writhe as all the other wolves urinated on him. They soaked him until he was sopping wet, the dust beneath him turned to mud, sputtering as the streams coursed across his muzzle, his tongue, soaking into his fur.

The wolves then drew back, leaving this young wolf panting on wet and messy earth. He panted and panted. And then, right on schedule, he turned back into the form of a man, the disguise he had been afforded by Luna. He howled and cursed and cried out as his beautiful beautiful wolf-form transitioned back into his human form. It hurt like the devil. The first time always did. The bite on the pup’s neck and shoulder, large and jagged, was now a scar, there forever more. All the wolves bore this scar in their human forms, and now so would he.

The wolves darted forward one final time, Alpha and his pack, and they licked this wolf in human form, up and down. Every curve of muscle, every joint, every crevasse. Large, wide, rough, muscular tongues, licking him. He sighed as they licked his glutes, and his pecs. He laughed as they licked his taint, the soles of his feet, his neck. He was soaked with cum, and urine, marked and scented as the Pack. And now the pack licked him, pleasuring him, tasting him, savoring their packmate, so they would know him and love him in every form he took, and protect him forever. They were pack. “Become wolf. Dance with Luna,” the wolves bid him. And the new wolf obeyed. He consciously seeks to shift back and cast off his manly form. The beast emerged.

There was a new wolf in the pack. All howled. Praise Luna, and her many gifts.

The ceremony complete, the wolves began to hunger. High time for a hunt, they grunted. The new wolf staggered a bit, getting used to four legs. But it would not take long to master that. Unlike natural wolves, there was no puppyhood, no newborn blindness, or nursing teeth. Wolves of Luna were born to run, to hunt, to fight, to rut.

The pack began to pace in a larger circle, ready to hunt.

But then, a sniff. A scent. A smell…

Another man!

The wolves growled and bobbed, pacing in circles nervously. Just where was this man? Where!? Quickly, they found the scent emerging from the lonely van, parked off to the side of the clearing.

It took some doing, it took some tries, but one of the wolves, the sly one, managed to open the back doors of the van with his jaw and a paw. They swung open.

Diving in, the Alpha dragged out a tied-up human, screaming through a gagged mouth, wiggling, scared. Not screaming too much, with the jock stuffed in his weak human jaw. The human was half-panicking, half woozy. He was still in his sweaty clothing, the virile musk of man-like perfume to the pacing were-men that encircled him.

Man. A man was here. The wolves moved restlessly around the wiggling man, immobilized in rope. A man!

And then the man looked up, at the sly wolf, and calmed down. His breathing evened, his eyes crossed. The wolves heard his breaths quell and his heartbeat slow.

“Sef?” The man emitted a sound through his gapped mouth.

MONDJUGEN!! The wolves all understand now. Another mondjugen. Blessed be! They are lucky lucky boys tonight! Praise Luna! Two mondjugen for the pack!!

“Sef?” the man says again through his gag. The sly wolf nuzzled the man softly.

But then the man was dragged away, as Alpha latched on to his cross-trainers and pulled him into the clearing. They must hurry. Yes! Do Hurry!! Luna is calling.

The sly wolf dashed forward and tried to insert himself into the center, but Alpha snapped him off.

The man kneeled in the center of the clearing, not panicking, just looking down. He murmured something, some silly human nonsense thing.

The sly wolf made for it again and tried to bite at the human in the special spot, right between the neck and shoulder. The largest wolves, Carlos, Tom, and the Alpha all bark aggressively and chase the Seth out of the circle.

It was Alpha’s privilege, to take a mondjugen.

And without further ceremony, the Alpha lunged in, clamping down on the special spot, to give the mondjugen a scar that will never heal.

The human called out. Luna’s will was done.

Larry woke up to the buzz of a mosquito in his ear. He reflexively swatted at it, grunting in annoyance. The bug dealt with, Larry squinted against the morning light, and sighed.

Larry had enough moons under his belt to know he was waking up nude and filthy. It always happened after dancing with Luna.

The muscular older daddy sat up in the patch of damp pine needles and grass. His hairy bulk was streaked with mud and bramble. Larry surveyed the misty scene. Tom was right nearby him, still asleep. He was rolled on his side, his handsome face looking so peaceful, as happy as a pig in mud. Larry smiled. He loved the fucker. There was no word for it in wolf, but Larry and Tom were as bound to each other as creatures of their find could be. Larry decided not to wake him.

Further off, on the ridge at the end of the campsite, the also nude Bill was almost enshrouded in mist, facing away and taking a piss. Larry sniffed, taking inventory. The entire pack was nearby, including two new pups. He smiled. No humans at all.

Another scent entered Larry’s nose, and he raised an eyebrow. In the center of the clearing was the carcass of a wild boar. It had been drug through the forest, flung on its back, and torn open. There was not much meat left on the thing. A wild boar on a triple baptism night was considered a good omen, Larry knew, for were-folk. It also explained the boar fur he could now feel between his teeth.

Another sniff as he got up onto his feet and Larry’s smile turned very self-satisfied. He could tell from his own scent he had been seeded by several wolves that prior night. One more sniff. Alpha had seeded him. Check. That was always an expectation. Plus Tom, Carlos, and… Bill? Larry guffawed. Woo doggies, that was a first.

Jesus Christ, this morning mouth was awful, Larry grimaced. The muscular daddy toddled over to the van. He scratched at his hairy chest, getting some of the dried mud to fall off. This better revealed the scar on his own shoulder and neck, a ridge of raised red dots which never faded.

The back doors were still swung open. Below them, Seth’s cross-trainers were in the dirt. Larry placed the shoes neatly onto the floor of the van and reached for the supply bag that Alpha Pete kept handy. This wasn’t their first time at the rodeo. Inside, Larry took some blessed mouthwash. The taste was almost too much for his sensitive pallet, but he needed it. The wolf in man-form swished his mouth into something acceptable and spat it out into the dirt. Turning back to the men all strewn about in some state of awakening, Larry spied to two newbies.

Yousef and Mullins were curled up, naked as Adam, in the arms of their Alpha, leaning against one of the trees bordering the clearing. Alpha Pete was awake but had not gotten up yet. He winked at Larry as the pack member approached, savoring the moment despite his complaining bladder. Seth slept to Alpha’s left. Carlos at both their feet. All shared the same scarring. The pups were already healed, no scabbing present. Just the raised red pattern across their upper pec, clavicle, and scapula.

Larry allowed them a moment more. The forest smelled of stale campfire ashes, stag musk, and sweet mist. The chickadees were now beginning to chirp. Larry loved natural places.

But they needed to get going. He tapped Alpha Pete’s outstretched feet with his own toe. “Up and attem’, Alpha,” Larry urged. The Alpha nodded, yawning. He maneuvered himself up without waking the deep-in-slumber pups. Seth and Carlos roused themselves too as Bill walked back and Tom came over from his and Larry’s own nest, leaving only Yousef and Mullins. All the men formed an impromptu circle around the new wolves, two beautiful muscle puppies, hairy and wonderful, with so much more potential to grow. The pack looked on expectantly. Knowing what was coming.

It was Mullins’s nose that sniffed first. They all observed it. The man-nostrils flared. Then again. A faint sniff. Than another sniff. Then another much more—much more—energetic one. Yousef now echoed him, his eyes still closed, but his nose going into overdrive.

Finally, Mullins’s eyes shot open. “Jesus Christ, what’s that smell?!” he blurted out.

Mullins began to scramble about in the dirt, compulsively sniffing in air. He smells his own blood and Alpha’s spunk and wolf spit and the remnants of wild boar and sweat and fur and piss and earth and wonderfulness. The man’s sense of smell was in overdrive. He must—must—get more of it. He must!!

Mullins mashed his face into the grass, sucking in air. He turned and pressed his nose into Yousef’s flank, gurgling as he took in his pack mate. Yousef was now in a similar state, calling out in wonder as he sniffed, almost hyperventilating.

A new wolf’s compulsion for scent was incredible. Each whiff must be identified and catalogued. A wolf’s nose guided him through the forest and the field. Like a kindergartener learning their letters and their colors, these pups were a blank slate which needed to be filled.

Alpha and the pack chuckled and grinned as Yousef and Mullins started digging up the soggy earth and mashing it into their faces, smelling roots and grubs and rabbit kits in their burrows and centipedes. Their compulsion for more scent, could not be denied. Yousef was right in there with him, snuffling and rooting into the earth, his muscular arms and shoulders flailing as he scooped this and that from the ground to press against his face, smelling insects and scat and deep-running springs and toad eggs and pine sap. On and on and on. They rooted like boars, grunted like pigs. And, all around him, Yousef was increasingly conscious, were sweating, farting, musky virile… men? Not quite men. No, not men. Friends? More than friends… pack? Pack. Pack!!!

The two pups looked up at the encircled wolf-men, their faces a mess of dirt and grass.

The pack smiled. It was endearing, a pup’s first sniff. The pack collectively gave the smile of young parents cherishing their baby’s mashing for a first birthday cake into their face, making a mess of the highchair.

“Oh my God!” Mullins panted energetically, his open mouth curving up into a smile. Alpha Pete bristled; Mullins will need to learn not to invoke the deity of men; it may offend Luna.

“So many smells,” Yousef panted. “So many.” Seth looked on sadly. He’d wanted this for his mondjugen. Just not like this.

Mullins and Yousef’s wolfhood was taking hold. They had cast off the burdens of bothersome human dignity and modesty, and scent had asserted itself as their dominant scent. Their nose ruled now. Yousef and Mullins were men no longer. They were mondjugen no longer. They were fully and truly wolf.

A beautiful thing, Larry whistled. And just wait until the pups’ heat for their first month of wolfhood kicks in, in only a few hours, Larry wagered. He grew hard. All the wolves around him grew hard at the thought. So much more fun to come.

But he was getting impatient, impatient for a shower, breakfast, and information. “Come on, Alpha. Diner’s opening up in a few. Now what’s all this cockamamie bullshit about the mondjugen being in danger?” Larry turned his head to Alpha Pete.

[Getting into the thick of it. I greatly appreciate the comments and the direct messages. I hoping to continue to keep your attention.

[Here is a brief list of characters, in order of wolf-size, to keep things straight:

• Alpha Pete, giant hulk of man, red-headed and bearded
• Carlos, Latino, jungle-gym of muscle, originally from Mexico
• Tom, stoic and kind, muscle daddy and gentle giant, from Wisconsin
• Larry, talkative gentleman, informally mated to Tom, from Tennessee
• Seth; U.S. Park Ranger, strong and swift, intelligent frenemy of Alpha Pete
• Bill, hairy and muscular, sweet and playful, sleeve tattoos
• Mullins, Police Chief, cookie-duster mustache, dedicated to duty and to Alpha Pete, new wolf
• Yousef, Lebanese gym owner and entrepreneur, Seth’s crush, new wolf]

Alpha Pete did not smile. “He’s got ‘em. The mondjugen.”

“What. About. Them?” Seth tried to be patient even as his tone raised. “What does he have?”

“The list,” Alpha Pete said simply.

Around the entire pack’s booth and an additional table pulled up, Xóchitl’s Diner clattered. It smelled of ketchup and Sprite and eggs—endless eggs. The busboy with the cute butt, [the one they all lusted after and wished so dearly was a mondjugen, but alas not, a full fifteen days shy (Alpha had mad inquiries)] smelling of cologne and dishsoap and endless hope, dashed by, dumping used plates and cutlery into his square tub. Each table was a flurry of smells and conversation. Somewhere a coffee pot shattered, followed by the unseen Xóchitl swearing in Spanish at an unseen waitress.

Seth grew quiet. “The list.”

“Yes,” Alpha Pete responded. Seth blanched. Bill showed no emotion, focusing on his huevos rancheros. The pair Larry and Tom were a bit more stoic with their white mugs of coffee but looked worried. The newbies were totally lost. Mullins looked nervous and attentive, like an employee on their first day in the office. Yousef was just dazed and woozy, his eyes heavy, barely touching his toast and sunny side up.

After a moment, Seth continued. “What’s he going to do with the list?”

“Wait, what list?” Mullins interjected, his investigator instincts breaking through. “A government database? Or a bad actor’s hit list?” Like all his pack members, Mullins was now wearing a sweatshirt with “TEAM PETE” blazoned across the front. His facial wounds had healed during the nights’ transitioning. The only obvious outward difference from his human life was his increasingly buff appearance and the scar on his neck, parts of it peeking out from the crewneck. “And just who is “he”?” His eyes were intent, his nostrils flaring subtly.

The Chief’s hunting instinct and law enforcement training fusing nicely, Alpha Pete noted.

“Tow truck’ll pick up the truck around 2 p.m.,” Carlos said as he came back to the table from taking his phone call on the sidewalk. “Insurance is being a bitch about it. Won’t spring for a rental. I need a ride back up to the state route.”

“I’ll take you,” Seth said, not taking his eyes off of Alpha Pete. “How the fuck did he get the list?”

“What ‘list,’ guys?” Mullins repeated. The Chief of Police was not used to being ignored.

Yusef interjected then with an urgent moan, leaning into Tom sitting in the next seat. He dropped his fork onto the floor, starting to breathe hard.

“Stirrings?” Alpha Pete sniffed at his pup. The pheromones were wild, off the charts, from that one. Yousef looked back across the table, confused, swallowing hard, trying to keep his composure.

“He means are you horny? Like really crazy stupid 19-year-old horny?” Larry offered, Yusef was too dazed to respond. Tom put his muscular arm around the sweating, breathing Yusef, eyes now half-closed with need.

“Yep, he’s in heat again,” Alpha Pete grinned. “Tom, it’s your turn.”

“Come on, baby,” the usually taciturn Tom said, playing Papa Bear. The large man helped the heavy-breathing Yusef up out of his chair, his scent now arousing the entire table. Damn, this puppy was eager, Alpha Pete shook his head. Yusef leaned heavily into Tom as they proceeded back to one of the single-room bathrooms at the back.

Seth looked after them longingly. This was the third time this morning Yousef had needed the pack’s attention. Seth’s turn was to be last; Alpha Pete’s final punishment for him for keeping secrets.

“I love it,” Alpha Pete smiled, his eyes following the two as they walked away, Tom’s muscular back as wide as an ax handle, and the more lithe-but-growing Yousef practically hanging on to his arm. “God-damn pup’s in heat.” He put his arm around his neighbor Mullins then and jostled him playfully.

Mullins grinned in response. He’d needed administrations as well that morning, once at the camp site as they bathed with a bucket of water, and once more at the side of the road as the group stopped, the van not being large enough for the entire pack and a sound fucking. He felt sated right now, but suspected that, even with his limited experience as a wolf and just how quickly Yousef recharged, it would not last for long. He crossed his legs under the table and sighed at the continuing sensations. But his investigator training would not be dissuaded. What was this mysterious list, this “he”?

“What are we gonna do?” Larry asked, rolling his eyes at the youths’ silliness, adding more sugar to his coffee.

“Do about what?” Mullins interjected. He was a bloodhound on the scent. He threw a fist down on the table. “What are we talking about?” Everyone bristled. “Sorry, Alpha,” Mullins said meekly then. “I’m feeling… angry.”

“Get used to it,” Seth said evenly. He scarfed some bacon. Damn that was good. Wolves and tempers went hand in hand.

“Fuck off, Ferret,” Alpha Pete kicked him below the table. “It’s his first day.” The Alpha turned his attention to Mullins. “Luna has many gifts for us and our brethren. Patience being not one of them.”

The loud passionate holler of a man echoed across the diner from the bathrooms. Mullins blinked. Bill snorted. None of the other wolves reacted.

“I love a pup in heat,” Alpha Pete finally broke out into a broad grin.

“Oh my fucking gawd!!” Yourself yelled. His fingers dug into the flesh of his glutes as he pulled them further apart, desperate to provide Tom more access. The wolf, only a man just six hours earlier, now braced against the wall, panting and heaving. Tom noisily ate him out. Yousef was nude, his “Team Pete” sweatshirt thrown to the side and his borrowed jeans puddled at his feet. The Arabic stud’s handsome face and muscular shoulders were pressed into white tile of the single-room bathroom wall, anchoring him and leaving his arms free to pull open his rear. Behind him and on his knees, the shirtless but still pantsed Tom dove in aggressively to devour his pack mate. Yousef banged his head into the tile. He needed it so bad.

The pup was in a desperate heat. His cock throbbed, his balls buzzed, and every inch of his hole and guts burned with need. The sensation clouded out coherent thought; Yousef was acting on instinct now, not desire, just the call of the wild. A call he instinctively knew could only be addressed through a thorough rut.

And rut they did. Yousef had already been ploughed three times that morning, first by his Alpha, then the mountain they called Carlos. Now it was Tom’s turn. Apparently, it was based on size? Yousef wondered in the small amount of space his conscious mind was still afforded to function. But not much space at all for an answer.

“Lose the clothes,” Tom had said earlier as soon as he locked the bathroom door. Yousef struggled with the belt, his hands shaking, so Tom had taken over, disrobing him quickly while the pup was left to moan softly. Liberated from human threads, the pup first jumped forward and hung on to Tom, but his hands just pawed at the large man-beast, without aim or purpose, like a trained puppy scrambling for their owner.

Tom found it endearing. He’d broken in many a pup in in his day. A man of few words, the well-muscled wolf-man gave a whistle, focusing Yousef’s attention. Tom leaned in to heavily make out with a gasping grateful Yousef. Yousef moaned and tried to speak through the kisses until the sensations tamed his nerves and he began to return the favor; his first make-out session with a man ever. This dance of tongues was arousing and amazing, but also was fundamentally human. The action, even with a man, cleared Yousef’s mind a bit as he leaned into the familiarity of it.

It turned out Yousef was a great kisser. Tom moaned back in appreciation. But he could feel Yousef’s hips moving, could smell his heat leaking. Kid needed attention down below. Expertly spinning the pup around, Yousef found himself pressed against the wall, lowing like a bull as Tom left a train of kisses, licks, and nips along the strong athlete’s bare back, going lower and lower until he crested the pup’s glutes. Daddy’s home, he murmured, and dove in.

The rimming proceeded apace until Yousef was good and lose. Tom came up for air, his face a mess of spunk and curly ass hairs, and ass slick from the prior loads Yousef has been gifted that morning. It was a feast of scent; Tom’s cock was iron-hard. Without words or verbal permission, the rimming proceeded to penetration. Yousef steadied himself against the wall, moving his hips back eagerly to meet each thrust, accompanied by heavy panting. It was still so novel, but now so familiar and welcome. At a certain point, Yousef’s footing almost slipped on some of the slop that coated the floor, but Tom’s hands on his sexy hips steadied him. Kid had an amazing body, and Tom admired it as he gored his way in. And it was only going to continue growing from here on out.

This last thought made Tom’s penis pulse. He started pounding in like a machine press. Yousef’s feet gave way now, and only his hands and arms on the wall and Tom’s hands on his hips held him up to receive Tom’s spunk. A direct shot deep into his gut.

Yousef crumpled to the floor, slipping off of Tom’s cock before the much larger wolf could withdraw. He lay on the floor sighing, while the smiling Tom looked down at him.

“I… that’s… God damn…” Yousef panted, not looking at anything in particular. His man-nostrils were flaring.

Then Tom kneeled down and forward, swallowing Yousef where he lay. The young wolf gasped, first in surprise and then in turn pleasure as the older wolf’s well-practiced throat went to work.

Yousef tried to wiggle despite his exhaustion, to move, to reciprocate the life-affirming head he was receiving. Tom held him down, one forearm across the man’s chest, the other, his legs, immobilizing Yousef and allowing him only the ability to thrash his head about and jerk as he was sucked within an inch of paradise.

Yousef finally came after 10 minutes of administration, shooting strongly and directly into Tom’s throat. The muscle stud swallowed it all. Tasted great, Tom observed, virile and healthy. Then, while Yousef was still panting weakly, Tom stood up, splaying his legs. Shirtless and his pants open, the stud-wolf jerked off randily all over Yousef’s tight hairy belly, putting on a show with his moans. It was a beautiful sight to see.

Tom lay down next to Yousef on the tile floor for a second. “Need a second,” Tom panted with a chuckle. He pulled Yousef into a spooning position, and Yousef gratefully curled into it.

They were silent for a moment. “I’m not gay,” Yousef whispered, not unkindly, but it was obvious the thought was important to him. “I mean… I wasn’t…”

“I wasn’t either,” Tom said sat up, reaching for the dispenser to get some more paper towels to mop up his pubes. Damn, this kid was slick. “Pup, don’t worry your head about those old labels. That’s for the men to concern themselves with. You’re were now. There’s only one lady in your life now,” he indicated towards the ceiling with his eyes, “and she’s a damn jealous mistress.”

“How long?” Yousef whispered. “Will this…?”

“What, the heat?” Tom asked. “Shit,” he smiled tried to think after Yousef nodded. “About a month. Until we dance with Luna again. Your were’s taking hold. These releases, your pack’s seed, it’s all settles you down into wolfhood.”

“How am I going to… how am I going to manage… this?” Yousef sounded so lost. He looked up. “Just what is this?”

Tom held out his hand and pulled Yousef up with a strong and sure hand. Yousef gasped as he was pulled into a giant bear hug. “You have your pack. You have your Alpha,” Tom said, squeezing Yousef close. Cheek to cheek, then face to face, Tom leaned in and gave Yousef a deep French kiss, the tongue delving deep, deeper than any mortal man could manage. Yousef moaned gutturally in response, running his own tongue along the invader, an invader that he surprisingly welcomed. “No one will hurt you so long as you run with your pack,” Tom continued once he withdrew from the gasping Yousef, as the other’s tongue flopped out, trying to follow the initial invader. “On my honor as a son of Akela and Rama, I promise you.”

Then, with a small gurgle and a popping sound, Yousef’s pecs expanded a size, heaving out a little farther, a little higher, a little broader. Yousef gasped and stared down at himself. Tom smiled. The wolf spunk was helping him grow big and strong.

Yousef was quiet for a second, then looked up, giving a shy smile. Tom helped him clean up.

“It’s a list of the mondjugen,” Alpha Pete explained, back at the table.

“I thought there was no way for wolves to know a mondjugen,” Bill broke in, confused.

“Normally, yes,” Alpha Pete nodded. “There’s no scent, not special way for a wolf to know. Mondjugen have to find their own way home.” The older wolves all nodded at the familiar nursery rhyme.

“So, a list of men who are born under the full Moon?” Mullins leaned in, his law enforcement instincts kicking in. Like Seth had explained in the jail cells.

“Luna, pendejo,” Carlos kicked him under the table. Hard. “Show some respect.”

“A list…” Mullins said softly, smarting. His tone changed. “Oh my God…”

“What?” Alpha Pete and Seth said in unison, leaning in.

“The identify theft... my bank account…” Mullins alerted his pack to the security alerts he’d received that week on all his accounts.

“So, he’s already making his move,” Alpha said gravely. “Testing the list.”

“ISS numbers, DMV records, birth certificates,” Carlos said. “VA records, gun licenses… maybe even Costco birthday cake orders,” he tried to crack a laugh.

But Mullins was in no laughing mode. “Just who is this?” the police chief urged.

“The elder wolves longed for such a list,” Seth marveled, ignoring the pup. “Since the days of Akila and Rama, a list of our brethren, ready to come home.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “That kind of reverence is rich coming from you.”

“Yes, I know—I’m Mr. Boo-Hoo Werewolf,” Seth rolled his eyes. “Even I can appreciate what this means.”

“Who!” Mullins pressed. He pounded the table again. “Who! Who are we talking about?” Pup was getting mad.

“A list of every mondjugen in the country,” Seth mused. “And all of them unawares, unprotected.”

“Sitting ducks,” Alpha Pete nodded.

“Tell me!” Mullins pounded the table again, his face growing red. “Tell me!” Then he convulsed. The police chief started panting as the other pack members looked on. “Tell—Oh God!” Mullins looked up, his face now red. He convulsed again and squirmed in his seat. His voice went higher “Uh… my… my hole…” The chief started squirming, beneath the dignity of an officer of the law. “My insides… I… I need it,” he finished sheepishly.

The adrenaline of the temper tantrum had triggered another stirring. Textbook pup, Alpha Pete patted Mullins reassuringly. “Tom’s occupied, so Larry, it’s your turn.”

“Sure Boss,” Larry got up. He pulled the panting Mullions out of his seat. “Come on, chief,” he patted the pup on his rump. Mullins yipped at the sensation.

Larry spun back at the table. “And don’t you gents even dare think of taking my cornbread while I’m away. I know exactly how many are on my plate,” he said with a wink. Larry pulled the panting, sweating Mullins into the other single-stall bathroom.

Tom and Yousef were already on their way back. Larry and Tom stole a kiss as they passed each other by the row of counter-stools, a very flushed-looking Yousef looking over his shoulder at the quivering, needy chief being led into the bathroom. His cock crew semi-hard at the thought of what he’d just been through, of what the chief was about to experience Yousef marveled at his new sexual resiliency. Fucked three times to Sunday, cumming three times, and he was already randy again. Would it always be this way?

“You motherfuckers are just lucky you tip well,” the diner owner Xochitl came up to the table as Tom and Yousef re-took their seats. All noted that Yousef’s “Team Pete” shirt was fitting him much better now. Non-pulsed by wolf issues, Xochitl brought five more plates of eggs, bacon and all the fixings. She was a shorter Mexican woman, strong with a firm bust. Dropping down the plates, she leaned over to kiss the top of her Carlito’s head. Carlos smiled like only a mama’s boy can.

With the smell of the new plates and the freshly fucked Yousef, the table was silent for a moment. The beasts-in-mens’-clothing took in the aromatic feasts.

Yousef was the first to break the ceremony and started scarfing. He was ravenous now.

“Pig,” Alpha Pete rolled his eyes with a smile. Kid had potential.

Xochitl gave her boy another squeeze (“I’m just glad you’re safe,” she whispered”) and then was back to business. “Baño’s off limits this morning after this, motherfucker.” She looked over at Alpha Pete.

“Fuck off, witch,” Alpha Pete retorted, not unkindly, eating one of the cornbread muffins. Carlos did not take offense. It wasn’t an insult to Xochitl. As she was one.

“Language, caballero,” Xochitl continued, non-pulsed, putting the last of the plates from the second tray down. Seth motioned for more coffee. Xochitl nodded and departed, back to business.

“So, who has the list?” Bill asked as he bit into another of the cornbread muffins. He needed to speak up over the sound of Yousef’s fervent scarfing. He tore into his own new plate of eggs, biscuits, and gravy.

“Alpha Haig,” Alpha Pete looked down. Seth dropped his half-eaten cornbread muffin.

Bill tried to think but didn’t recognize the name. “Who?”

“He claims he’s the wolf king. Bullshit made-up title. Remember how he tried to make a move to unite all the packs of Michigan. Like five years ago?”

“I wasn’t were yet,” Bill answered. Meanwhile, Seth was exchanging worried glances with Carlos and Alpha Pete. Yousef polished off his plate and gave a satisfied belch. He was sooo hungry. He felt his stomach gurgle again, and his muscles burned like after a great pump.

“He’s an asshole, never satisfied,” Alpha Pete said.

“So, he’s got the list,” Bill snatched a piece of toast from the shared basket on the table. “So what? More wolf pups next month?”

“No,” Alpha Pete said, finishing the last of the corn bread. “He may take a few more mondjugen for his pack. I’m not worried about that. Too many mondjugen at once and a pack falls apart. He won’t be so stupid. I’m worried about to whom he will give , or more likely sell, that list. Or what he’ll demand from all of us to ensure he doesn’t.”

Seth looked down. Carlos remained stoic. Tom nodded. Bill gulped. Yousef’s sweatshirt right sleeve tore on the right side, his biceps and triceps escaping at the seam with a jerk. Yousef gave a gasp of surprise. As he moved to look at it, the left side tore too.

“Nice!” Alpha Pete and Seth panted at once.

“Ditto!” Bill said.

A loud passionate holler echoed across the diner from the bathrooms. “Yes!! Jesus god!!!” All the wolves smiled. Tom nodded, proud of his Larry. Despite the bad news, it was a merry morning indeed for all of them.

At the cashier’s counter, Xochitl swore in Spanish, and headed back to the kitchen.

Yousef ignored his bursting seams, and continued to eat ravenously. So great was the hunger, he ignored every weight trainer’s wet dream. And the diner clatter continued on for another hour. They finished the morning with twenty-eight plates, three baskets of toast, and another order of cornbread. Xochitl broke into a smile at the tip.

An hour or so later, Alpha Pete pulled the van up outside Mullins’ house. Bill road shotgun, happy he was no longer the lowest ranking member of the pack. Mullins was in the van’s rear, still wearing his Team Pete sweatshirt, or what remained of it (he was also growing to a proper wolf size). Alpha Pete opened the van’s back doors.

Looking up at the house, porch, hydrangeas, black-eyed Susans, picket fence, the works, Mullins hesitated. “Team Pete” was now barely hanging on, riding on his chest and shoulder, revealing the tight muscle mid-drift of a football player. The chief had not been this fit since college.

“It will take time,” Alpha Pete said then, more seriously. “Time to adjust.”

“How can I tell Mary?” Mullins turned back to the Alpha, his eyes tearing up. “I can’t lie to her.” He gasped, realizing his wedding band had gone missing sometime in the prior night’s triple baptism.

Alpha Pete opened his arms, and Mullins fell into them, both in need of comfort and because of the scent the large wolf-in-human form had unleased from his pits. The Alpha shuffled them behind the open door of the van, to conceal the moment from sight of the house. In that moment, Mullins grunted as his lats jerked and grew a size, rendering his Alpha’s hug all the more tight. “Team Pete” split open on both the side seams. It was toast, now more bib than shirt.

“Pup, I will not lie to you. You are wolf. The mondjugen married to that family is no longer of this world. You were human once.” He opened the hug, straightening his arms, keeping his hands on Mullins’ increasingly voluminous shoulders. “But Luna found you.”

“Do wolves stay married? Take care of their kids?” Mullins looked up at his Alpha.

Alpha stayed silent for a moment. “They do their best, pup,” he finally answered.

Mullins came forward and nestled more tightly into his Alpha’s chest. Then a stirring, then a convulsion. Mullins grew a centimeter in height right then and there. Alpha Pete smiled.

“Alpha,” Mullins looked up, looking sad but also starting to pant, shifting his weight from foot to foot, like a man with a full bladder. “Something’s wrong. I-I feel... I feel it again. Please help me.”

“It’s the stirrings, Mullins. Now that you are wolf, you must be claimed again.” Alpha Pete started to lead his pup into the van. Bill got out of the cab to run around and close the doors. “And again, and again.”

“What? But...” In Mullins’ blood and flesh, he was enticed, excited, insatiable, quivering. “But my family, my house… I’m scared, I… it’s all so much.”

“You have no need to fear,” Alpha Pete reassured as he unwrapped his pup. The sweatshirt was a lost cause; the rags discarded, and the now-tight borrowed pants shucked off. “You are wolf now. The seed, my seed, my pack’s seed, will make you strong. You have changed and your body will only continue to grow, to improve, until you are the beast you were always meant to be. You are meant for rough use, little mate,” Alpha Pete asserted. Mullins only gasped as he was penetrated.

Alpha Pete leaned down and kissed his new pack member as he fell into a rhythmic fuck. Bill was back in the van cab then, watching the fun from the passenger seat.

This rutting was different from any Mullins had known before. With Alpha’s human lips and tongue he laid claim to Mullins’ mouth, swallowing his moans and teaching Mullins just how much he could give in return. The taste on his tongue was salty and sweet, a diner breakfasts’ delight, along with the manly stink of spunk, body odor, the woods, the wash, and the van. Mullins moaned and submitted fully.

Alpha Pete spent himself into Mullins, in the van right in front of the chief’s house. As he pulled back with one last sweep of his masterful tongue in the pup’s mouth, the pup looked back into his dark eyes. Something had changed there, as well. Alpha Pete looked down and could see, or sense, his pack member’s emotions there. He was… no longer tamed. He showed desire, freedom, the hunt.

Mullins smiled back. He thrust his round plump hairless cheeks again against Alpha Pete’s still-inserted cock. An ass to write home about, Alpha Pete hummed in pleasure. “Please, Alpha? I need it again. I feel like I’m gonna explode if I don’t work out this... this heat.” The pup couldn’t put words to his need.

“Never fear, pup, I know what you need,” Alpha Pete grinned; he was so proud of his pup. “Your cunt is hungry and I’ve got lots more pints to share.”

The van rocked for another twenty minutes. Finally, Mullins staggered out of the back.

“What am I going to tell them?” Mullins indicated at his house, wearing just some extra athletic shorts Bill had in the van, sweating and smelling a mile away like sex and sweat and ass. He was almost walking bow-legged and had a silly satisfied smile underneath his cookie-duster that only the well-fucked could muster.

“What, the “Team Pete” sweatshirt?” Bill asked. “Just tell them you got it at the Buttigieg rally that came through town back in 2020. That’s where Alpha Pete got all of them anyway—ah!!” Bill wailed at Alpha Pete’s slap against the back of his head.

“Tell them what you must,” Alpha Pete answered, giving Bill a dirty look. “Anything but the truth,” he ordered, taking a sterner tone. Mullins shuddered in acquiescence.

With that, Alpha Pete jumped into the van’s driver seat, and the vehicle sped away, Bill scrambling to shut the passenger door before it struck the trunk of one of the Mullins family’s crabapple trees.

Mullins was left bare-chested and barefoot in just the athletic shorts, his new scar on the shoulder fully exposed. He suppressed a grunt, as his traps jerked and cramped, and then grew another centimeter. Walking up the drive, Mullins felt strange about the house he’d owned now for fifteen years. Something was missing, something undone. It bugged him, gnawing at his brainstem.

Mullins was halfway through urinating on the tree in the middle of his front yard before he consciously realized what he was doing. Marking his territory. It felt... it felt right.

[I truly and sincerely appreciate the comments and the direct messages. They keep me writing. I hope to continue to keep your attention.]

Here is a brief list of characters, in order of wolf-size, to keep things straight:

• Alpha Pete, giant hulk of man, red headed and bearded

• Carlos, Latino, jungle-gym of muscle, originally from Mexico

• Tom, stoic and kind, muscle daddy and gentle giant, from Wisconsin

• Larry, talkative gentlemen, informally mated to Tom, from Tennessee

• Mullins, Police Chief, cookie-duster moustache, dedicated to duty and to Alpha Pete, new wolf

• Yousef, Lebanese gym owner and entrepreneur, Seth’s crush, new wolf

• Seth; U.S. Park Ranger, strong and swift, intelligent frenemy of Alpha Pete

• Bill, hairy and muscular, sweet and playful, sleeve tattoos

Yousef ran. He ran like the wind. He sailed over logs and plowed through brush. He leaped and padded and panted. On all fours, he ran until his lungs burned and the wind roared past his peaked ears and his tail was a blur of grey. It was wonderful.

Luna’s wolves run faster than even they can explain. It is in Luna’s gift, for a wolf is always welcome where her light shines.

Yousef was out in the vestiges of night, and on his way.

Yousef had been an avid athlete before he was transformed, but not much of a runner. Shepherded into wolfhood just a fortnight ago, he had taken quickly to the new sport. Yousef had no need for state park trails and running paths. The forest was his playground. Yousef embraced the urge to run and had grown into the pack’s fastest sprinter. Coupled with a developed fearlessness of running through thick stands of trees, the gym owner was turning into quite the formidable beast indeed. He actually liked the thick brush and dark woods. It felt like he was folded in a comforting blanket. Natural places reminded him of a crowded gym, full of living men, beating hearts, musk-seeping crevices, sweat pouring, always a new scent. The forest was similarly alive with scents and sounds and life.

The transition had been hard—still was hard. The stirrings still raged, and the management of the gym could not exactly be put on hold. But he was trying. Each day got more manageable. Inshallah.

Finally, he came to his intended destination. Larry’s and Tom’s scents were thick about the grounds of their cabin in the early-morning mist, before even the earliest of birds were awake. Yousef slowed his bounding self as he entered their property. He paused at the boundaries, added his urine to the collection of scents, and then trotted up to the make-shift deck Tom had applied his carpentry skills to. On the porch, Yousef gritted his teeth and transformed in his nude male form. Outside of the nights Luna called, wolves had more control over their transformations. The shifts were painful and took more time. The resulting beast kept most of its human faculties. Most.

Yousef panted himself cool, and gave a few sniffs (a sow in the distance, a mother with their young. Yousef’s Muslim upbringing shuddered at the idea of pork, but the wolf in him wouldn’t mind. Still, not wise to pursue alone, since mama pigs got nasty right quick and had no fear when protecting piglets were concerned). Otherwise, the forest was quiet.

Tom and Larry had some old mirrors on the deck, leaned up against the wall of the cabin. Tom liked to do his weight training at home (nude, of course), and the mirrors were there for form, and for his own quiet vanity. Yousef didn’t linger long, but he did peak at his own reflection as he brushed off the burrs from his unprotected human skin. Kid was no kid. Yousef had gained fifty pounds of muscle since his triple baptism. Especially in the upper body. The gym owner had grown out of each and every one of his sports coats, pants, and anything fitted. He could barely keep up ensuring decent-sized gym clothes for his clients and had needed to order XXL-sized branded polo shirts for when he manned the front desk. Xochitl had tailored the waists for him; Yousef remained lithe in his trunk, the better to enjoy his fanned-out lats, sizeable traps, rounded delts, and seem-splitting arms. Absent wolfhood, Yousef would be a shoo-in to win Mr. Universe at this point. But he was cautioned against it by the pack. No telling what the drug test would pick up on if he actually submitted to one. Shivering now at the loss of his coat, the incredibly muscular man known as Yousef went inside. The door was always unlocked for him.

Carlos’ chorizo was sizzling on the stove when he smelled his Alpha driving up the road. The giant wolf was in human form, wearing some sweats and an apron but no shirt. Carlos rarely wore anything up top when at home. He had learned to be tough against the cold, it was near impossible to find shirts that fit, and he did not mind admitting to being a bit of a peacock too.

He had been whistling happily as he flipped the meat around. The insurance check for Carlos’ F-150 had finally arrived the day before. He was excited about color choices for the new truck. Maybe cherry red? Or absolute black? Decisions…

Carlos kept at his breakfast preparations while the portable radio atop the trailer kitchen’s small fridge chattered away. “…cybersecurity and financial experts continue to puzzle over the massive identity theft wave that struct approximately one out of every thirty American men two weeks ago. No common retailer or other point of breach has yet been identified, puzzling investigators. FTC Commissioner Lina Khan has pledged a full investigation. Credit protection application memberships have grown rapidly in the wake of this unprecedented breach. Affected consumers are cautioned to-” Alpha Pete switched the radio dial off as he entered Carlo’s trailer. He did not knock. Alpha’s never do.

“Smells great,” the Alpha said as he pulled up a chair and sat.

“Good morning,” Carlos nodded, glancing over his shoulder from the stove. “Café?”

“Sí,” Alpha Pete answered.

There were a few moments of silence while Carlos poured the coffee and fetched the cream. Alpha Pete said thank you as he was handed the mug. Alphas were owed respect, and Alpha Pete was set to ensure that he’d always return the favor, while at the table at least.

“I’m going up to Michigan,” Alpha Pete said finally, Carlos having turned back to the chorizo. Alpha Pete signed in satisfaction, admiring the Latino wolf’s amazingly muscular back. “Today.”

“That motherfucker finally show himself?” Carlos asked, flipping the chorizo onto two plates on the counter.

“If by that, you mean Alpha Haig,” Alpha Pete kept a measured tone, “yes.”

Even mother fuckers who were Alphas were to be given respect.

“All the Alphas. Alpha Schreider, Alpha Chavez, Alpha Toddson, all of them.”

“And what did he offer you on your group text chain?” Carlos asked, cracking open the eggs.

“Nothing specific,” Alpha Pete said. “You know him,” he snorted. “All bull-shit flowery language, “the council of Alpha’s are called to meet in Luna’s shadow, blah blah blah.”

“And what is he really after, jefe? Scrambled?”

Alpha Pete nodded, then exhaled. While Carlos whisked, the Alpha continued. “With mondjugen list? Either he tries to blackmail us or to partner with us. With a gun to our heads. There’s not an Alpha who likes to be strong-armed like this, but we’ve got to hear him out, talk him down.”

“How long?” Carlos looked back over his shoulder at the sound of a chair being pushed back from the table. His Alpha’s scent was growing stronger.

“Ideally, two nights at most,” Alpha Pete said, coming up behind his pack member. Carlos’s back, bare except the apron strings, and thick buns in sweatpants… Praise Luna, it was sooo sexy. He placed his hands on Carlos’s flanks, and leaned his chin on Carlos’s shoulder, right on the bite-mark scar, the one Alpha Pete himself had given Carlos seven years ago. “You’re in charge,” Alpha Pete, whispered into Carlos’ ear while his hands drifted down to the man’s ass, hands slipping down under the sweatpants waistband. “But not yet,” Alpha Pete grinned, giving one cheek a slap while the other pulled down the pants in one swift movement.

Carlos gasped in anticipation, and reflexively reached over to turn off the burner on the stove. “Sí, jefe,” Carlos sighed, putting his hands on the kitchen counter to steady himself and thrust his ass out. Only Alpha Pete was tall enough to take Carlos while standing. It was always such a special treat. “Sí… Sí… Sí…” Both their eyes glowed yellow, the dancing dots reflected in the microwave door above the stove.

Alpha Pete entered him quickly and was soon all-out thrusting into his pack member. Bidden by Alpha Pete, Carlos kicked his left foot free from the sweats and lifted it up onto the counter ledge while the right remained anchored to the ground. Gripping the counter and with a spread-out ass, the incredibly muscular Carlos leaned left. He breathed in short powerful bursts as his Alpha worked him into paradise and seeded him once again. Carlos came himself directly onto the floor of the kitchen. Good thing he was already planning to mop after breakfast anyways. The grunting was strong, amplified by the small trailer space. It stank to high heaven with musk, just the way Alpha Pete liked it.

The two finished and gave a rudimentary wipe of their ass and cock respectively, before washing their hands. Over breakfast, the two laughed as old friends. The chorizo and eggs were amazing.

“Oh… Oh wow… Oh my God… oh my gawd!!” Yousef panted over and over as he rode Larry’s cock like a merry-go-round pole. The athletic Arabic man was on top, with Larry prone below him, holding on to Yousef’s hips to steady the bottom. As best, he could, he moved his hips to meet Yousef’s rocking thrusts. Kid was born for this, Larry smiled greedily. Hot day-umn…

“That’s it, sir” Yousef moaned, eyes closed. “Fuck me, Larry.”

The larger wolf did, rougher than he probably should have. Yousef was only two weeks into this. Still, he seemed like he could take it. The now 6’5” stud was taking it like a man.

Then Tom’s voice interjected. Larry’s hubbie must have entered their bedroom quietly. Yousef’s and Larry’s own body odor and cum from the prior orgasms that morning had masked the third wolf’s scent. Looking across and down over Yousef’s shoulder, Tom gave a small nod and smile at his aroused, flushed, fucking partner on the bed. All was soft and lovely in the dim morning light that was now peeking through the curtains.

“Stop for a second, Larry,” Tom ordered.

Larry gave a shudder and obeyed. Tom was the dominant partner, but his role was usually communicated through gentle but insistent strength. It was rare that he got verbal. A rare treat, Larry smiled. Yousef was still panting and shuddering between them, his hips barely able to stop their thrusting and rocking.

After a second’s pause, Larry wasn’t sure what Tom’s intended move was. Take over the fucking? Lie alongside and enjoy the view? Inquiries minds wanted to know… Until he saw Tom’s hand grip one of Yousef’s deltoids. And Larry felt his hubbie’s searing-hot fat cockhead, as big around as a filet mignon, at the meeting point of his own balls-deep cock and swollen orange-sized balls, and Seth’s quivering hole.

“Pull out a bit, Buddy,” the now unseen Tom instructed in a deep, intent voice, Yousef’s bulk now eclipsed him. Kid was a growing boy, Larry observed, his cock pulsing randily as he moved himself at Tom’s direction. Yousef gave a look of confusion at all the movement and tried to look over his shoulder, but Tom batted him away. Larry tried to distract their plus three by reaching up and playing with the personal trainers’ nips. Yousef gave a throaty gasp and looked back down at Larry with wonder and exhaustion.

“What’s going—?” Yousef tried to ask, giving a cough.

“Gonna double P,” Larry shook his head in wonder, looking up at this pup in wonder. Kid was a born bottom.

“Not all the way out…” Tom said, unseen. Larry moaned as he felt Tom’s fingers dapple and tickle around his ball and Yousef’s hole. Then, Larry felt it. “Got it, buddy,” Tom said.

Larry exhaled as he felt the Tom’s head join his at the pup’s hole as everything fell into a wonderful new tightness. Yousef gasped deeply, and then gave a heartfelt moan, bearing down instinctively. Tom pressed in, right alongside Larry’s.

“Alhamdulillah!” Yousef burst out in Arabic, whispering and shouting at the same time. His eyes were closed in deep concentration. “Allah!.. Oh fuck!

Yousef leaned forward, and his and Larry’s hands gripped each other, as if choreographed. Tom went further in. Pup was as tight as a drum. It was almost painful to Larry, but it was also one hell of a ride.

Then, something clicked inside the bottom’s sphincter, and the entire theater of pleasure relaxed into an open cornucopia. All three of them sighed as they just sunk in. The pup’s juices went to work, and both dicks were now slathered in searing hot slick. Tom’s manhood jutted all the way in, and all three gave a grunt as Tom’s pubes bumped up aggressively against Yousef’s plump cheeks and Larry’s balls. They were both home.

Yousef was a mess of moaning and wet breathing, eyes shut tight. Larry moaned below him, the weight of both men immobilizing him besides the short thrusts he could manage from his prone position.

“You got this, pup,” Tom whispered into Yousef’s ear from behind, wrapping his arms around his pack member’s upper body, pulling him slightly back to encourage an arched back. “Praise Luna, hot ass on this one.”

The two tops fell into a tandem fuck. Yousef’s prodigious manhood, now so much larger than in his previous human days, swung back and forth in Larry’s face like a berserk pendulum. It was pulsing, fire-truck red, and thumping against Yousef’s thighs, above his balls, leaking prodigiously all over Larry’s chest and chin.

Larry looked, admiring and hungrily, at Yousef’s cock, throbbing and bobbing. “Yus, y’all gonna shoot?” he panted in his Tennessee lilt, taking a hand off of his packmate—lover’s hip, and tried to grab a hold of the lubed-up sucker. Yousef’s and Tom’s rocking above him made it quite the task.

Yousef was speechless above him, just a ball of panting, gasping pleasure. The wolf’s jaw jerked as Larry finally got a hold. The more senior wolf squeezed and jerked the Yousef’s snake expertly.

That last pull on the cock did it. Yousef’s eyes popped open, brilliant yellow, and he jerked his head down, gasping. With Larry’s hand on his hips, and Tom’s arms holding his chest back, Yousef was basically immobilized, forced to witness his own orgasm. Immediately and powerfully he came, with a pint-ful spilling all over Larry’s pecs and chin.

Larry smiled, cum now thickly coating his stubble. It smelled wonderful. He sent his tongue out to lick some off his face.

Yousef gave an authentic exhausted moan. “Fuck!” Larry purred.

“Attaboy!” Tom cried from behind the sweaty, messy pup. Larry thought they’d disengage now that Yousef had cum, but Tom was revving back up. Okay, so we’re doing this, Larry shook his head in admiration, and held the slumping, exhausted Yousef steady and up and Tom went to absolute town behind them.

The cocks rubbing against each other, in alternating thrusts, was all that Larry could take. The feast of scents and the sloppy wet mess of everything sent him over the edge soon after. He moaned deeply as his loan was dumped into the keening, insatiable Yousef, who was already back to rocking his hips like he was on a carousel.

“Larry!” Tom called out in ecstasy. “I can feel your seed!” Tom’s cock was pistoning in and out, powerfully and unyielding. “Your spunk smells so damn good!”

Larry yelled too, so turned on by that. His man was thrusting, and above him was just thrusting, stinking man-flesh. It was amazing.

“I’m gonna…” Larry called out, but then his orgasm interrupted any further announcements. The Tennessean wolf came again, a second time in less than two minutes.

Slick and sperm and sweat was spilling out of Yousef’s hole, filling all their nostrils with amazing scent.

Yousef was a trouper and continued to take it. “Cumming, pup…” Tom said at last, panting, exhausted. He slowed and deepened his thrusts, each one about every five seconds. Larry closed his eyes and savored the sensation of hot searing cum bathing his own cock inside Yousef’s furnace, and all the weight and pressure and tightness. Praise Luna, and her many gifts.

Larry reopened his fading yellow eyes to see Yousef almost passed out, held up by Tom’s hug and Larry’s arms from below. The two maneuvered Yousef down as Tom withdrew, into a lying position. Larry then shifted to the side, withdrawing himself. Yousef glowed as his hole snapped back tight in between his peach. Both the older wolves smiled at this. Luna had many gifts to give, and a resilient backside was one of them. Yousef was broken in and could take the most magnanimous of Alpha cock, but his opening would always be as tight as a drum afterwards, for the pleasure of his Alpha and the pleasure of his pack. Share and share alike, inside the pack.

Yousef sighed in exhaustion in the naked pile nested in the filthy sheets. He could barely move.

“You feel good, Yus?” Larry asked, pulling his arm over the pup.

Yousef nodded. “I feel safe,” he answered just a above a whisper. Somehow, he could smell Larry and Tom both grin.

Truth be told, Yousef was adjusting well. Yousef ran like a blaze. He downed more boar than any other wolf. He’d fleshed out to a proper wolf size, larger than a black bear when on all fours, and as man, he sported full plump pecs, dark prominent sensitive nipples in a hurricane swirl of chest hair and traps the size of bricks. Alpha in particular loved to see his slutty little Yousef’s muscles flex and pump as he was fucked. Alpha enjoyed in particular spanking him on the rump, enjoying seeing the man’s muscle ass and legs quake with tightness and sensation. Yousef was to be forever Alpha Pete’s wolf-son. But Yousef was grateful that Alpha was generous enough to share.

Yousef submitted without complaint. His strong rear and thighs allowed him to stay on all fours as Alpha and his pack brothers rutted him, until his hole was left squelching and sputtering and leaking, only to slip back tight as a drum at the end. He would call out his own orgasm, his own black beard dripping with saliva and spunk. Alpha was developing new kinks. He loved fucking Yousef in his human form, Yousef being by far the hairiest man in the pack, and then going for round two with his sub as a wolf. Yousef still didn’t consider himself gay, but Tom’s advice took, and he just tried not to think of it in terms of the old labels. Whatever this was, whatever wolves were, he didn’t want to go back.

Outside of his time managing the gym, Yousef knew nothing else now but service to Alpha and an unending number of other licks, fucks (dominant and submissive), and nuzzles. And running. Yousef felt second safest when he was ploughed but most safe when he was running. Full tilt, through the woods, like that old movie he’d loved back in the before times… the forest of… was it Endor? Dashing through the trees, split second decisions on which way to dodge and dart where to let feet fall… Praise Luna, it was incredible.

Yousef wasn’t completely all right, this he knew, and he suspected he would never be all right. Yousef was sweet natured. He did not miss his old human life at all, but he was still trying to make this new life work. The pup still was searching for his role in the pack. Concubine, yes, for others, but who was Yousef the wolf when not bent over? There was a hole in his heart over that. Yousef was not quite whole. But he was home. Inshallah.

In the midst of that reverie, Larry’s and Tom’s phones both pinged at the same time. Larry pulled his off the side table. “God Damn,” he looked up at his bedmates. “Alpha’s on the move.”

The town’s law enforcement working group was chugging through its second round of coffee. The room smelt of copy machine ink, that cheap floor wax the cleaning crew used, Styrofoam cups, and coffee. Blessed coffee. Chief Mullins insisted on the very early hour, so cup o’ joe for everyone was a mandatory concession. They didn’t have a Starbucks in the county yet (“Praise luna, here’s hoping a motherfucker would!” Seth was heard to have yelled at the suggestion) and the precinct’s own coffeemaker had not been properly cleaned since the Carter Administration. So, several giant carboard jugs of Mickey D’s and all the fixing’s had been brought in.

“Nice,” Chief Mullins smiled, taking a swig. “Really nice.”

He wasn’t commenting on the coffee. The three new recruits for the force were being paraded in to meet the town’s law enforcement representatives. County Sherriff, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, military police for nearby Fort DeWitt, private security firm for the nuclear plant down at the lake, and, of course, the Chief’s absolute favorite pal at the National Park Service. Seth sat at his right in his sage green uniform.

Park Ranger McBride gave the chief some side-eye. He finished with an eye roll his pack brothers’ pheromones go into overdrive as the three young bucks in their new spit n’ polish uniforms were led into the room to make introductions. Patrolmen Mikulski, D’Ambrosio, and Mayorkas. Not a one over twenty-five, and eager beavers. How touching, Seth sighed. Mullins, and Seth despite himself, both breathed in deep through their noses. New uniform fabric, aftershave, and their balls tucked away in their tighty-whities. Washed by their mamas, no doubt. What balls! Seth allowed himself a grin at last. Musk Musk Musk!!! So very nice… One of the new recruits had dipped his stick in a woman within the past day, Seth also smelled. No matter. Straight people did serve their purpose, after all.

At least the worst part of the meeting was over. All the LEOs knew of Seth’s arrest for murder and burglary, and the strange exoneration that had been announced three days later. A civilian might have accepted that without question, but several of the LEOs were insistent: just who was murdered in this jurisdiction? What was being done to pursue the culprit, if Seth was not the perpetrator? It took some real verbal gymnastics by both Seth and Mullins to deflect that. The working group begrudgingly accepted the yarn that the FBI had assumed responsibility for the case, that the murder had happened out of state, and that the murder victim had been found with a paper safety-pinned to their coat with the words “I was not murdered by Seth McBride.”

“Such forethought to write that out,” the Sheriff, a strong lesbian named Barb, arched her eyebrow.

“I know, right?” Mullins shrugged in a pantomime. Seth died inside a little. But the story worked, for now.

As intros went around the room and the rookies said hello, Seth’s phone buzzed. He subtly opened his iPhone, and looked at the message on the Pack’s group text chain:

++ Going to see Alpha H. Carlos = in charge. Lay low + stick together. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Take care of Yus and the Chief. Be home soon. Praise Luna.—Alpha P ++

Mullins was checking his phone at the same time. They looked at each other and gave subtle nods.

“Welcome to the force, men,” Chief Mullins cleared his throat, looking back up. “I think we’re good for a pee break.” Several of the vising LEOs jumped up and headed for the facilities. Others attacked the McDonalds pitchers.

Mullins and Seth slipped quick as a firefly’s light into his office.

“What are we gonna do without our Alpha?” the pup demanded once he’d clicked the deadbolt. “I don’t… I can’t…” Mullins started to get emotional as he paced.

“Relax,” Seth paced the room, rubbing his hand on his head. “Alphas can go on journeys from time to time. It’s not out of the ordinary.” Seth was stressed, but not because Alpha Pete was on the road.

“I can’t… I can’t do this without him…” Mullins breathed, his voice going up a pitch. He was surprised to find himself on verge of tears. His wolfhood was only two weeks old, and he was still in heat. He was barely keeping it together with his still unawares family, and Alpha Pete had been his rock. The pack’s lord had been visiting the precinct every day for at the start of shift, at lunchtime and after shift to assuage the chief during his heats. The flashes of demanding horniness had cooled down since the initial tortuous days, but the stirrings were still undeniable and needed attention, and would be until next they danced with Luna.

“We can… we can all help you,” Seth said, exasperated, his gaze following the pacing police chief. Seth finally looked away from the crumbling man in front of him and out the window. Alpha Pete going to see Alpha Haig meant an Alpha council had been called, Seth noted internally.

He hated it. He hated that he knew about Alpha Councils, and that one of the greatest points of contention was always whether to hold it at BW3s or Five Guys.

Seth hated that he was were. He hated that he wasn’t included at the Alpha council. He hated that he wanted to be included in the Alpha Council. He hated that all the innocent mondjugen were still in danger. He hated that his claim on Yousef had been thwarted. He hated that the whole concept of werewolves, their origins, purpose, mechanics, were unexplained, no more definitive than a fairy tale. He hated that he didn’t know what all this bullshit was supposed to mean. “Damnit, Luna!”

Jesus, I wish I still smoked, Seth sighed to himself.

“What your language!” Chief Mullins barked at him. Seth blinked. He hadn’t realized he’d vocalized that last swear against their goddess.

“Oh, go sit on a dildo, pup,” Seth spat back, and made for the door. If he left now, he could pick up Alpha Pete’s scent and…

Chief Mullins, in his full musculature, bigger than Seth now, stood in his way. “No way you’re leaving. We need a plan. Alpha Pete said—”

“Fuck, Alpha Pete,” Seth tried to move around the larger man. Already larger? Seth thought with dismay. Chief Mullins was filled out nicely in his chest, his head grazing the doorframe.

Mullins lunged forward with reflexes no mortal man could manage. “Watch your fucking mouth!” he seethed again, now grabbing at Seth’s throat, holding him against an avocado filing cabinet. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about Alpha that way!” His irises shone like the sun.

Pups can be insufferable sometimes in their zeal for wolfhood, Seth noted. Like fraternity pledges who had received their initiation five minutes ago and now treat the frat’s moto and rituals with the reverence due to the Vatican.

Seth was still, staring back, breathing shallowly through his compressed windpipe. “How quickly some just give in,” Seth whispered finally, directly to Mullins’ close-in face as the other wolf grew progressively redder. “Not two weeks ago, you were a man who yearned to break out of the jail cell, and now you’re this pathetic slut, winning for his Alpha like a pa—gaah!!”

Seth fell to floor after Mullins punch. “I am wolf now!” Mullins shouted down at him. His peepers were vibrant gold. “I’m proud of it!”

Seth wheezed, clutching his sides. The wind was knocked out of him.

“I’m gonna tell Alpha!” Mullins threatened, like the younger of a pair of young brothers. Which they were in a way. “I’m gonna… oh Luna…” the chief’s shout fell to a whisper.

Seth didn’t need to ask what was wrong. Mullins’ scent was a dead ringer. His ass had started leaking slick, and his sweat and musk were in overdrive. A pup in heat… with the adrenaline triggering a new stirring. It was a fine thing, Seth snorted, still gasping to refill his lungs. Pups were so excitable during their first month, and once they got worked up, the stirrings would not be ignored. Chief Mullins already had a reputation for being a hot-headed wolf. And now here they were.

“Help me,” Chief Mullins whispered, crouching a bit, trying to stay on his feet. They both looked to the door. They were locked in the chief’s office, with twenty LEO’s in the room right outside, for a meeting of which Mullins as explicitly the lead. They’d never get outdoors without being noticed, and they couldn’t possibly wiggle through the narrow windows. Mullins was rapidly descending into a whimpering mess.

Seth hated this, he seethed. Hated all of this. But he could not deny Mullins’ heat, nor his own arousal. And he could not deny that he was wolf; the man Seth that once existed fifteen years ago on that camping trip… he was gone. And a wolf protects his pack. “Oh Hell,” U.S. Park Ranger McBride swore, and stripped off his sage uniform shirt. “Get on the floor, pup.”

There was a tinkle of metal as belt buckles came undone, and pants unzipped. A pencil was produced for Mullins to bite down on and ensure his silence. Mullins tried to get on all fours for a doggy position, but Seth insisted he maneuver his nearly naked self onto his back.

Stripped nude from the waist down, and with his uniform shirt still on but unbuttoned, Mullins lay prone, his amazing abs and pert pecs in full display, breathing, panting through the improvised bit.

It only took a few strokes and Seth was fully hard. He entered the chief without ceremony. The two fucked quickly, powerfully. The chief pulled his legs out and knees up, already fully practiced in giving access. He rolled his eyes in sensation, not focusing on any particular part of the room.

Seth just closed his eyes, and wished it were Yousef.

10 minutes later of muffled grunting and gasps and hard muscle smacking against squelching slick, Mullins bit through the pencil with a snap. He gratefully moaned at Seth as his pack brother emptied into him. Seth gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to holler. He did allow himself a grin as Mullins spent himself then, coating his own chest and tight belly with cum.

Seth had to give it to Mullins, the pup could fuck.

Mullins whispered thanks; the stirrings sated. The two pack lovers urgently toweled themselves off with one of Mullins’ spare undershirts (he’d learned the necessity of having several changes of clothing handy in the office). They’d just buttoned up when there was a knock on the door.

“Coming!” Mullins shouted as he headed over and opened the door to the hallway. Patrolman D’Ambrosio was outside, a handsome young Italian wonder. “Sorry, Chief,” the rookie said. “They sent me to check if you’re ready to restart the…” then the patrolmen went cross-eyed right before them.

“Kid, you okay?” Mullis went to stop D’Ambrosio from falling. “Seth, help me… the chair.” He indicated to the guest chair facing his desk.

Seth fetched it and moved it over to catch the patrolman as he sank into it in a controlled fall. “He needs some air,” Seth said, and went to open all the windows.

“Here’s some water, son,” the chief was back in police-man-protector mode. The patrolman came back from his wooziness quickly with a few sips. Seth fanned him with a half-used pad of lined office paper. In the buttons of the patrolman’s spit n’ polish uniform, Mullins could see the reflection of his still-yellow eyes.

Shit, he and Seth thought at once. Without other options, they both looked away.

“Sorry Chief,” D’Ambrosio said, perking up. “I don’t know what happened. I… uh, I guess I didn’t eat enough. Was worried about the first day.”

“I bet,” Seth said simply, looking down so the fading amber glow would not show. “What’s your name, patrolman?”

“D’Ambrosio. Zach D’Ambrosio.” He noticed the Chief and Ranger McBride were both averting their eyes, but chalked it up to not wanting to embarrass him over this weird fainting spell. God, he hoped it didn’t go on his medical record with the precinct.

Seth nodded, smiling slyly. Seth could smell the ample breakfast the young man still had on his breath, plus the two donuts from this morning that lingered on this breath. No. Seth had seen this all before. A young man entered a room full of wolf stink, fresh slick from the fuck, and two large, virile wolves aroused and angry in a confined space. Almost fainting after encountering it at point blank range. Didn’t they have enough problems without a new mondjugen right in their midst?

At least the buttons no longer reflected anything. Seth looked up, revealing baby blues.

Mullins and the now cheery rookie headed back to the meeting room. Mullins looked over his shoulder at Seth, both worried and beckoning him to follow. Seth closed his eyes for a second. He’d have lost the chance to track Alpha Pete by now. Praise Luna, but she does work in mysterious ways. Seth headed out of the room, quickly tucking his ranger uniform shirt into his pants. He hoped Patrolman Zach hadn’t noticed he was partially undressed before. They’d need to watch this one.

The print on the Wrangler’s spare tire cover was a large wolf paw print. Alpha Pete was just swinging open the back hatch to toss in his duffle bag in when his nose alerted. Bill was approaching, in human form. Alpha Pete grinned despite himself. Orders had been sent out to the entire pack to lay low during their Alpha’s journey. But his little knucklehead…

“Did you really think I was going to let you go alone?” Bill asked, coming out from the brush on the west side of Alpha Pete’s property. After giving a respectful bow, Bill smiled expectantly. Alpha Pete stayed taciturn, but let loose a small side grin. He nodded at his still-open Jeep. The smaller wolf threw his own bag into the Wrangler’s meager trunk, and then leaned against the open back hatch, smiling back. He awaited Alpha Pete’s direction.

It could be a direction to give head, to turn around and present his ass, to hold whatever kinky position that fitted Alpha Pete’s fancy. It didn’t matter; he would serve. Bill was dedicated. The last two months had been a paradise for this tatted-up South Carolinian. Past packs were led by Alpha who were not nearly so jovial. Bar none, this pack was a dream come true.

“Get in the truck, knucklehead,” Alpha Pete swatted at his pack member’s head, knocking loose Bill’s ballcap. Bill smiled back and the two fell into a bearhug for a moment. Bill savored the pressure of Alpha Pete’s arms, his scent—what a scent!!—his everything. The two fell into a deep French kiss, their long tongues snaking into each other’s mouth for a true wrestling match. They allowed their tongues to grow to wolf size for a second, truly long and inhuman. It made the dueling more fun.

It took every ounce of self-restraint by Alpha Pete to not have his pack mate then and there on the pavement. But they needed to get some distance in before dark. Bill nodded, understanding. “Besides, Alpha, don’t wolves travel in pairs when they mean business?” Bill asked, winking, mumbling his words a bit as his tongue shrunk back to a more manageable human dimension.

“That they do, Bill,” Alpha Pete said. Without another word needed, the two slammed the back of the Wrangler, got into their seats, and headed off towards the state route, off to see the Alphas.

I truly appreciate the comments and the direct messages. Keep them coming! Here is a brief list of characters, in order of wolf-size, to keep things straight:

• Alpha Pete, giant hulk of man, red headed and bearded

• Carlos, Latino, jungle-gym of muscle, originally from Mexico

• Tom, stoic and kind, muscle daddy and gentle giant, from Wisconsin

• Larry, talkative gentlemen, informally mated to Tom, from Tennessee

• Mullins, Police Chief, cookie-duster moustache, dedicated to duty and to Alpha Pete, but starting the branch out, new wolf

• Yousef, Lebanese gym owner and entrepreneur, Seth’s crush and coming into his own, new wolf

• Seth; U.S. Park Ranger, strong and swift, intelligent frenemy of Alpha Pete

• Bill, hairy and muscular, sweet and playful, sleeve tattoos

• Xochitl, Carlos’s mom, a witch in her own right, and owner of the town diner

• Alpha Schreider, leader of the neighboring wolf territory and host of the Wolf Council, U.S. Army Veteran

• Grant, built like a brickhouse and partial to coveralls, bearded handyman

• Alpha Haig, excentric and plotting wolf from the north, who has hacked his way to the list of all mondjugen, everywhere

The Wrangler pulled into the lumber yard’s gravel parking lot. Alpha Pete texted something, and ten seconds later, his phone pinged a response.

“Okay,” Alpha Pete nodded and pulled the Jeep over the crunching gravel around to the rear. A man was already exiting the back of the building, a muscular man in brown coveralls, the front zipped only halfway, revealing his man-cleavage. Bill and Alpha Pete both drew breath and knew he was family.

“Howdy,” the man, tall, brunette, bearded, as big as if Al Borland had been on gear, called as he approached. “State your business.”

“Alpha Pete,” the man introduced himself. “Requesting the honor of entering your Alpha’s domain.”

“Granted,” the man nodded. “On behalf of Alpha Schreider, I bid you welcome, Alpha Pete,” He offered the honorific. The wolf looked back past the Alpha. “Who’s the hole?”

“Bill,” Alpha Pete answered, smiling. Straight to business, this one. “Of my Pack.” Bill stood a step or three behind him. These ceremonial meetings were weird and antiquated, Bill felt. Best just to get to the fucking and have it over with. But it wasn’t his place to complain.

“Nice,” the man sniffed at Bill, grinning a bit too excitedly. His wolfhood grew in size underneath the heavy coverall fabric. “A harvest moon, I reckon?”

“Yes,” Alpha Bill answered. Bill had been born in the fall. Some wolves talked of moons the way men talked of zodiac signs. There was little to back it up in terms of science, but then, wolves really did not have much ground to stand on in terms of insisting on empirical evidence to this and that.

“Very nice,” the bearded handyman wolf stepped forward.

“Name,” Alpha Bill took a step forward himself.

“Grant,” he answered. The man was getting impatient. He unzipped his coveralls all the way as he stood, his scent and sex organs spilling out.

“You used to run with Alpha Toddson?” Alpha Pete gave an interested look.

“Used to,” Grant answered, his eyes glowing just a hint. “You used to not ask so many questions, I recall. Now can I plough your hole or not?”

“Bill, do as we discussed,” Alpha Pete nodded back at his pack member. Bill nodded, not that concerned. It was only to be expected that when an Alpha and his progeny entered another Alpha’s territory, there would be an offer of diplomacy in the way of a hot hole. It was an act of goodwill. Not only that, but of safety and clarity. Bill would also carry Grant’s scent as they journeyed further in Alpha Schreider’s territory, signaling to the rest of the pack that this visit was known, announced, and that respects had already been paid. Plus, Bill shivered ed as the larger creature shrugged the coveralls off his shoulders, and stepped out of them completely, fully nude… Grant was hot.

With Grant’s direction, Alpha Pete fetched a blanket from one of the lots’ truck’s cabs, and the two randy wolves got down to it. Alpha Pete wished to high heaven, Praise Luna, that he could join in. This wolf was a beast—the fucking Luna-damned ground was shuddering with his footsteps, and now his thrusts. Wolf was fated to be an Alpha for certain. But the scenting needed to take. This was as much transactional as it was enticing. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t jack off along. Alpha Pete drew up the discarded coveralls and huffed virile Fritz’s scent as the two below him rutted like pigs.

“Another coffee, please,” Seth signaled to the waitress from his stool, “and cream.” Xochitl’s Diner was bustling with the weekend summer crowd. The campground was also full. The busiest time of year for the region.

“Strange you got free time, caballero,” Xochitl observed, bringing over the coffee pitcher herself, indicating at all gabbing tourists, coming and going from the national park. “What’s wrong?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Seth answered, sipping his coffee.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” she responded.

“Xochitl, what did you think when Carlos was taken into wolfhood?” Seth suddenly asked directly.

“I was glad—honestly, glad,” Xochitl answered immediately, giving it emphasis as she cleaned the counter. “We’d always been on the road as a family. I was worried he’d never learn how to put down roots, claro.” Xochitl smiled. “With a pack, he has a family of his own. People who will take care of him, especially when I cannot.”

“You’re a witch, you can take care of everything,” Seth interjected.

“Don’t talk about things you don’t know about,” Xochitl continued. She tried to put it into word. “No magic lasts forever. You think I’d be running this slop bucket if I had another choice?” she indicated with eyes at the greasy spoon that surrounded them.

Seth back looked down at his coffee.

“I cannot undo the magic that binds you to the Moon,” Xochitl guessed what he was getting at. “That power is ancient; that magic runs deep.”

“I figured,” Seth said.

“It would take seven sorceresses’ seven years of coordinated work, and that would be just to understand the spell, the hex, the curse, the… blessing?” She left the last word as a question. “Whatever the origin of this magic, its caster meant business.”

Seth looked tired.

“It’s not a curse, you know,” Xochitl offered. “If you don’t want it to be. My baby, Larry and Tom, your Alpha, they all thrive with it.”

Seth was still silent.

“What about your friend, Yousef? The newbie?”

“Yeah, he’s making the rounds,” Seth said derisively.

“As opposed to being in your bunk each and every night of the week?” Xochitl responded directly. Seth was silent. She continued, “I mean, really, what was the plan?”

“Someone nice, someone to talk to, someone who wasn’t…”

“Someone who wasn’t pack, and yet you go straight to a mondjugen,” Xochitl said incredulously. “You could have just whored yourself out on Grindr, pendejo.”

Seth looked down at his coffee.

“You wanted a pack of your own. Admit it. And a mate of your own,” Xochitl observed with finality. “Regardless, You’re not an Alpha. If you had turned the gym man on Alpha Pete’s watch, there’d be hell to pay, or worse, you’d be running off feral and wild with a wolf pup barely able function, much less run.”

More silence.

“It was a pipe dream, caballero,” Xochitl started laying out napkins and silverware on the two vacant spaces next to Seth at the bar. “Look, you are mi hijo’s pack, so I love you as a son. So here’s some tough love. There are worse things than being were. Just…” Xochitl looked for the words. “Make the best of it. And if you want to be Yousef’s special lover, how about you start by being his friend?”

The rare rational point. “Thanks,” Seth said finally. Sincerely, the talk had helped, not that Seth’s pride would allow him to admit it. He stepped to get up from the stool.

His hand was pinned to the counter, but Xochitl’s wrist, with reflexes that no mortal human could manage. “No freebies,” the witch said, her braceleted hand holding down the much larger man at his wrist. She had amazing strength too.

Check paid, Seth hopped out to his U.S. Park Service Crown Victoria. He was long overdue for a visit to Mountain Peak Gyms. He’d stop there before his shift tomorrow morning.

As he drove out of the parking lot, the cute busboy was walking across the lot to start his shift. Kid gave him a God damned wink. Not a Mondjugen, Seth reminded himself. (Again, inquiries had been made). But maybe a well-deserved snack…

“We shall see,” Seth breathed, and turned on his work radio to listen to the chatter. Sometimes being a workaholic worked to his advantage.

“What do you smell?” Carlos whispered patiently.

Yousef lifted his snout and sniffed loudly. Carlos shushed him, reminding the pup that a sniff went a lot farther if it was subtle. He sniffed again and smelt it. “A rabbit,” Yousef whispered. “I smell a buck rabbit.”

“Where is he?” Carlos continued. They were crouched in bramble about a kilometer from Mountain Peaks Gym. Yousef needed to be put through his hunting lessons, and after closing time at the gym was as good a time as any. Carlos fretted to himself that they were asking too much of Yousef too quickly. But if the fawn runs on his first day… as the old wolf saying went, so must the pup. The dangers of the wild would not be so patient. For while vampires would reliably remain in the cities, the woods were filled with other terrors: hunters, wargs, rival wolves, orcs, and spirits.

Yousef sniffed quietly again. They were both crouched, pressed together side by side. “To the right, about… fifty years. And he’s above ground.” Yousef moved to get up, excitedly. “We should get him.”

“No!” Carlos growled at him. “Sit. Smell again.”

Yousef crouched back down; a bit wounded. He was trying so hard. He closed his eyes and tried to sniff quietly. It was hard, when the burn of daylight lingered and was making him warm and the urge to pant was high. But he tried to be a good wolf. “Rabbit, buck, eating, just shat some droppings…” Yousef gave a snort and looked confusedly at Carlos. “There’s something… wrong. Something—I don’t know, I just smell… creepiness… I don’t want to eat him,” Yousef finished, scared.

“That’s right,” Carlos was so proud. “Remember that smell. That’s worms. The rabbit has them pretty bad. If you eat them, you’ll get infected too, nasty little buggers.” Yousef nodded. “Very proud,” Carlos nudged his packmate. Kid was coming along nicely. His senses were working well. “Let’s keep hunting. What else do you smell?” Yousef turned his muzzle to the trees and started sniffing anew.

Chief Mullins awoke with a start. He grimaced immediately. The office sofa had given him a crick in his neck again. And he had to piss like a motherfucker. The wolf got up, still in his uniform, and stumbled through the dark to the door to his precinct office.

Mullins had taken to sleeping at this work. Things with Mary were… complicated. He was trying to keep it all going, but she smelled wrong, the house smelled wrong, it was all wrong. Every instant he was at home, he wanted to be with his Alpha. Every instant he was home, he could not ignore just how foreign his wife and daughters smelled. Mullins loved his family dearly, could not imagine leaving them. But Mary had grown tired of the constant, unexplained overtime, the new crowd of friends he was hanging with whom she never got to meet, and the new physical distance Mullins practiced.

Just this week, Mary had accused him of lying about steroid use; the only explanation she could muster up for his amazing muscle growth. And women had an instinct about these things. She needed some space, she said. Three weeks into his wolfhood, and Mullins found himself sleeping at his office.

Mullins was having a better time of it at the precinct. He found his officers were more respectful, more obedient to his barking commands than the previous “teamwork” mantra the chief had breached. The new recruits and their rookie enthusiasm certainly were helping. Mullins walked past the sea of desks, the ammo storage, and evidence locker. He’d scented each of these spaces earlier today, so it was time to make the rounds outside. It was dark, so no one would see. He slipped through the staff door to the back The whole precinct was on patrol now besides the dispatcher.

He thought of switching to wolf then but decided against it. The precinct’s cameras were still on, and it wasn’t worth the risk, no matter the pleasure of donning the fur coat once more. Mullins finished his urination of the precinct’s two back entrances and the loading dock. Most of the more senior officers were too lazy to review the tapes with any regularity, but the rookies were by-the-book, to match their spit-n’-polish uniforms. Speaking of which… he impulsively cut his stream off. Best to save it. Mullins couldn’t quite explain why, but he needed to get back inside. Now.

“How’s our number one rookie?” Mullins asked purposefully nonchalantly, entering the dispatcher booth.

Zach looked up, beaming reflectively. He loved getting compliments from the chief. He knew from the academy that first-year officers can fall into hero-worship of experienced officers. That they needed to maintain some kind of objectivity in order to differentiate experienced and reliable mentors from unhealthy factions and precinct politics. But he’d never expected this kind of hero worship.

Mullins haunted the rookie’s dreams. Every second in the chief’s presence gave Zach a zing that lingered for hours. It was amazing.

“Doing good, Sir,” Zach answered, not realizing just how much he was grinning. “Tonight’s a quiet night. A DUI an hour again, and some ambulance activity from the monster truck rally in Jackson County.”

“Keeping an accurate log?” Mullins asked, putting his hand on the top of Zach’s roller chain. He gripped it, and surprised both Zach and himself as his powerful arms pulled the chair away from the desk, Zach still perched on it. Zach felt a silly smile come on as Mullins spun the chair so the rookie would face him, but then grimaced as his headset cord reached its limits, nearly pulling him off the chair.

“You can take it off,” Mullins said.

Sitting directly in front of the standing chief, Zach nodded. He took off the headset and reached over to set it on the console. They could still hear the radio chatter from here at the center of the booth, Zach assured himself.

Mullins was silent for a second more. Zach looked up at the standing chief, expectant. After five seconds, he felt a bit uncomfortable. “Uh, sir…wha—”

“I said, you can take it off,” Mullins interrupted.

Zach breathed a bit more deeply. A second more, and the understanding was clear. Zach maneuvered himself from sitting at the roller chair to his knees. It felt wrong to stand in this circumstance. Not even for a second, no.

The rookie disrobed. The uniform shirt and undershirt were first. Mullins hummed in appreciation. “You’re putting on muscle,” the chief observed. Kid easily had ten pounds more on him since his induction last week. It was obvious in the pecs and delts.

“Yeah,” Zach whispered. Rookie moved from a kneel to an Indian-style sit as he removed his shoes and socks, and then, breathing harder, the pants and underwear. Silent and nervous, but resolute, Patrolman D’Ambrosio was now kneeling nude and fully hard in front of his chief.

“Chief,” he breathed. But just that. What the fuck was going on? His eyes showed extreme confusion and concern. The strangeness, the million rules being broken—it was all manifesting in his brain.

Best to cut that off at the pass. Mullins quickly unzipped, fished out his massive cock, and let loose the remaining urine.

Zach gasped in true shock as his face and bare shoulders received the stream point blank. Without seconds, his face was drenched. The man kept breathing heavily, but staid as still as he could. He sensed it would please Mullins to stay still. The aromatic urine ran all over his hairy chest, his pubes, down his quads to the floor. In a moment of inspiration, Zach tossed his head forward and shook it, getting the stream to run through his close-cropped black hair.

The piss did not last long. Zach was left scented and huffing, breathing heavily in his nude crouch, wondering simultaneously what the fuck was going on, and wondering how he could get more of this scent upon himself.

“A-Plus, rookie,” Mullins said, zipping up. “We will do this again.” Zach nodded vigorously. “If you’re good,” Mullins said on the way out, letting the door slam behind him.

Mullins himself was also weirded out as he walked back to his office. Surely Alpha should be doing this… surely… but then Mullins smiled to himself. “Alpha will be so proud to learn I’ve got one ready for him when he returns,” he assured himself. Yeah, that was it. It felt nice to have a spring in his step for the first time that week. It really had been hard to navigate what seemed to be the start of marital separation. It had been hard to manage his resentment that Bill and not he had accompanied Alpha Pete to the Alpha Council.

Praise Luna, Mullins murmured heading back to his office for more shut eye. He’d tell Alpha about the mondjugen. He’d… get around to it.

Back in the dispatcher booth, the muscular little mondjugen was writhing in the puddle on the floor, scooping up the wet and spreading it on his face as he panted and tried to think about how he’d dry his sopping wet clothes. The smell… fascinated him. He could not get enough. Even as he intellectually panicked about what he had just compulsively done. Just what the fuck was going on?!?!

Having eaten their fill, Carlos and Yousef licked each other’s snouts and chops clean and settled in to sleep out the night in a thatch of thicket, curled up against each other.

Still in the midst of the witching hour, Yousef awoke again. There was rustling beside him and there was scent. Scent of hand oil and pubes and pre-cum.

Before he even looked over, Yousef could tell Carlos was pleasuring himself. The larger wolf had switched back to human form, the mass of muscle and olive skin and raven black hair. Yousef stayed still for a few minutes, observing as the man’s muscular arm jerked rapidly, the lungs gasping and sighing, the neck and jaw twitching, as the line of his gaze basked a subtle yellow glow.

Carlos gasped when a human hand joined his own around his cock. He smiled as the transformed Yousef now crouched between his legs, his hand moving in unison with the penis’s owners.

“Sorry,” Carlos panted, his hand still moving, sweat on his brow from the intense session. “A paw is just no good for some things,” he half whispered, half laughed.

Yousef gripped the cock more tightly. It was an impressive one: dark, thick, not incredibly long, but very hard and heavy and powerful. It smelled amazing.

Carlos gasped in genuine surprise and sensation as he was swallowed all the way to the root in one go. Pup got game. He moved his pelvis back and forth, luxuriating in the sensation.

The newbie, to wolfhood and to giving head, snuffled and grunted and gagged. It was all still so novel. But the self-doubt was gone; Yousef was learning to embrace things. The wolf followed his instincts, moaning across this pulsing, wonderful cock. He sucked for five energetic minutes, curling his tongue around the shaft, sampling the pubes and the salty skin. He ran his large hands across Carlos’ splayed-out inner thighs, up across his belly, down even to the beast’s toes for some playful tickling. Carlos was a pup in his paws now.

Carlos ran a hand across his forehead to clean off the beaded sweat. He began breathing more deeply signaling his coming release. Yousef pulled back, not wanting it to end. The cock popped out, and it bobbed there like a pendulum, alive and heavy.

There, Yousef kneeling in front of the prone Carlos and his living expectant manhood, the two wolves observed each other, yellow to yellow, each breathing heavily, each pouring out scent in the insect-song laced night.

“You’re doing so well,” Carlos shook his head. “Keep going.”

“Doing well?” Yousef asked.

“The sex, the hunting, still managing the gym,” Carlos whispered, still whispering. “I’m proud of you. Alpha’s proud of you.” And then he lifted his thighs up, exposing the curves of his full, sculped glutes and the deep hairy canyon in between.

Yousef shuddered, sucking in the scent.

A moment more and Carlos let out a small fart as he relaxed himself, bearing down. “Go on then,” he urged. He nodded at Yousef.

Yousef looked concerned for a moment, but then something clicked, and he shuffled forward on his knees. A spit in his hand was all that was needed. And then he was inside.

“Sí…Come on, pup,” Carlos panted deeply as Yousef rutted him. “Come on,” he whispered. His ass scent was everywhere now.

The two felt into a rhythm. Yousef fucking the much larger and stronger man, climbing the jungle gym. The acting Alpha banged his head back into the dirt again and again as he held his thighs open, riding this high. He was surprised. Surprised the pup had it in him. Surprised how much he was enjoying it. Surprised how much he really wanted to put out as a result. Bottoming wasn’t his style, besides with Alpha, and here he was, folded in half for a pup. It felt so nice.

And so, Carlos, giant muscular man, acting Alpha, found himself on his back like a beetle, begging to cum like a bitch in heat. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he whispered at Luna’s sliver in the heavens above them. Then he gave a deep grunt, as Yousef’s next thrust poked him extra deep.

That grunt triggered something in his sex partner. Yousef grunted in return. He emptied all of himself into Carlos. He leaned forward and, in human form, licked Carlos’ face until it was sopping wet as his tap ran, filling his packmate’s ass full to swelling.

Yousef sought to steady himself. He leaned forward, putting his hand to the ground, while the other went to caress Carlo’s face. “Oh my God,” Yourself panted, half-lidded, giving Carlos another lick.

The Arabic man went into a managed collapse onto Carlos as he withdrew. Carlos allowed his legs to drift down from their punishing position and embraced his packmate, wrapping his arms and legs around the smaller man. In his embrace, the smaller wolf stared frotting cock against cock. Carlos smiled, and pulled Yousef up further until they were face-to-face. The two made out heavily, reinitiating the licking. The taste of salt and spunk was so good. Carlos soon gave his release as well. He growled long and deep.

The two slept until morning. All was peace until the two other wolves arrived.

The smell of Larry and Tom proceeded them, two wolve pelts approaching. Carlos’ and Yousef’s nostrils twitched, rousing them, though the familiar stink gave them comfort enough to remain prone and entwined in the brush.

“Nice!” Larry called out once he came within humans’ pitiful earshot.

Carlos grinned with a small chuckle. They did look a mess, with leaves and mulch stuck all over their bare hides. “Come on, pup,” he gave the yawning Yousef a spank on the rump. They both stood up, nude humans, to greet the approaching wolves.

“We were going to sign up for memberships at Mountain Peaks Gym,” Larry said, thrashing his tail, “what with the importance of supporting local small businesses and all. And then couldn’t help but notice the smell of… well, vulgar relations,” he gasped in mock scandal. “I am shocked—shocked!—to see our packmates like this.” A mix of Blanche Devereaux and Captain Louis Renault. Carlos and Tom both rolled their eyes.

“Shut up,” Carlos said, not angry, turning back into a wolf to ease his way out of the thicket. “Gotta take a leak.” He bounded to the other side of the clearing and set to it. It never hurt to remark the territory anyways.

Yousef followed out of the thicket, the brambles and leaves sticking to his fur. Kid was doing well at the muscles and the sex part, but he needed to learn good grooming. Larry sighed and came over to his packmate and started licking.

“You need to learn to keep clean. Keep your scent down, avoid tics, and all of that,” Larry fussed. “You never know what’s out there in the woods.”

“Thank you,” Yousef said, staying still to receive the cleaning. A human Yousef would have begged for coffee right about now. There was still so much to learn. But he did appreciate the impromptu grooming. Yousef then, without thinking, tried to place one of his front paws on Larry’s on the ground. It turned into an awkward tapping and nudging. For a second Larry was flummoxed by this, but then he remembered with a chuckle. Yousef was trying to hold his hand.

“It’s a bit unorthodox, sweetie, but thank you.” Larry acknowledged with his Southern, and then allowed Yousef’s paw to snake underneath his own on the ground as they sat there, Larry still licking his fur clean. A paw is just no good for some things.

“Thanks,” Yousef said. “It’s getting better. But it’s still a lot sometimes.”

Then Larry gave another laugh. “Yes, I seem to recall,” he and Tom both laughed. “Everyone needs some help when they’re young.”

“I miss hand-holding the most,” Tom said. “Of being human, I mean.”

The two other wolves nodded; Larry was still focused on licking the mulch out of Yousef’s pelt.

“Hell, I remember when my oldest daughter was five,” Tom said, alongside. “She was taking skating lessons and had a bad fall. Knocked three full teeth out. There was so much blood…” Tom stopped, distracted by the memory of the scarlet puddle on the ice. “I mean… we took her to the dentist, and they did emergency dental surgery. She was so brave about it,” Tom’s pride was evident. “But all through the surgery, even when she was put under local anesthesia, she held my hand. Wouldn’t let go. An iron grip. I was so touched, so proud to be a father, I—” Tom felt that pride well up in him still. But then he paused, and suddenly felt so hollow.

“Don’t talk about that, hun,” Larry said simply, continuing with his licking of Yousef. Almost clean.

That little girl was now in her mid-thirties, at least, Tom remembered. She was a month away from giving birth to Tom’s first grandchild when he’d been taken by Alpha Pete. The birth had to have happened years ago now. And he didn’t know if all was well, if the baby was healthy… he didn’t know. Tom closed his eyes and imagined holding that little girls’ hand tightly as the dentist did his work. And then Tom tried to grasp at Yousef’s other paw now with his own. Only he couldn’t. Looking down, Tom observed his own paw, useful in so many ways, but unable to grasp an other’s hand. “I—” Tom continued, but he could not find the words. It was not often he thought of his human family. He knew it was best he be absent. To see them now would mean bringing a monster—a giant beast—into their lives, and Tom knew that, as a wolf, to see humans was to be hunted by humans. There would be no reunion, no happy day in the park.

“I love you, baby girl,” Tom whispered to his absent daughter. Maybe someday, he could see her again. But not now.

“Don’t talk about that,” Larry said again, most insistent this time. “Sorry, I got distracted,” he turned his attention back to Yousef. The three staid still for a while longer until Carlos returned from a satisfying shit and piss, and Yousef darted forward, sniffing Carlos energetically to ensure he was real.

Step by step, Tom thought to himself. Step by step for all of them.

No longer needed with Yousef, Tom got up and walked over to his temporary Alpha. He craved—no, he needed—a distraction. He lashed his tail this way, then nodded his head that, spreading and lowering his haunches just so. “Yes,” Carlos said, the yellow glow returning, understanding Tom’s intentions before the wolf needed to utter a word. “But keep it quiet. We’re too close to the gym parking lot for your usual howling.”

“CrossFit class is outside today,” Yousef added, catching on.

Tom smirked at the absurdity of it all, but nodded, and assumed a submissive pose, waving his rear at his temporary Alpha.

“Yousef,” the acting Alpha nodded to the pack mate. “Take the watch.” Carlos went over to Tom. “Fucking whore,” Carlos sneered with satisfaction. “Fucking nasty slut whore.” He knew Tom’s occasional submissive side, and that he liked it rough. The tenderness he had shown Yousef disappeared.

Tom shivered at the carnality of it all. His irises glowed light lightning bugs. He loved being Alpha’s concubine from time to time, and the fact that he hadn’t even been asked to assume the role, it just came to him at the Alpha’s command. They began their rut. Carlos needed to take the edge off and Tom needed to escape that memory of that little girl and the holding of hands.

Then it would be Larry’s turn next, Carlos gave a wolfish grin.

Yousef kept the watch until the three were done, then headed down to shower and assume his shift at his own gym. He had three new membership applications to process. He also was interviewing applicants for the new yoga classes he was launching and needed to get back.

Seth pulled up into the parking lot mid-day. Yousef waved but was too busy to greet his gym bro and packmate, so Seth went to work and pulled a full shift. He called the gym from his desk and scheduled a personal training session.

“Hackers?” Alpha Pete said, keeping his tone even. “Haig’s turned hackers?” The red-bearded Alpha took a sip of his draft.

Alpha Schreider nodded. “Exactly.” He looked around the bar, ensuring no one was listening in. The Alpha was a U.S. Army veteran, with the haircut and powerful muscular legs, square body, and pronounced pecs to match. He was perched on his bar stool just so, to show off the goods but also claim innocence. This was his territory, and he wanted to ensure all the Alphas and seconds assembled knew who was boss, and who would be fucking who during this Alphas’ council. “Fucker managed to find one mondjugen who could code, and then he was off to the races. He started setting bait on Reddit, at Bitcoin conventions, sent recruiters out to Palo Alto, claiming a new unicorn being founded up in Michigan, whatever lies he needed to draw them in…” Alpha Schreider looked down, in sadness. “He dumped his entire pack, repopulated it with these… these tech bros…”

“And then they got into every system possible, got the name of every mondjugen,” Alpha Pete finished the thought.

The two were at the bar, awaiting the Alpha council. It smelled of stale beer, microwave popcorn, and wolf. All around them, Alphas were gathered in small groups, playing at the pool table in their sleeveless plaid shirts, at the booths, nursing pints of beer or whiskey comparing new tattoos and scars, or at the dart boards, their arms shooting the dart so fast the air whistled. The seconds, Bill among them, were there too, all freshly scented by one or more of Alpha Schreider’s pack. An offering by each visiting pack’s Alpha in return for Alpha Schreider’s hospitality and protection. It made for a nice aroma of ass and spunk, mixed with liquid courage the bar offered. The rest of Alpha Schreider’s pack were outside, guarding the bar and keeping watch. A gathering of Alpha was a rare thing indeed, and dangerous thing, a delicious target. It was not just wolves who stalked these woods.

The humans amongst the crowd chattered away asininely about some mortal nonsense or another. Wolves did not really bother themselves with human affairs, and scent was really all a wolf needed to read the room. This woman in heat, that man steroids, this supposedly straight guy excreting pheromones like crazy unawares in response to his virile bros, that guy who had just dipped his stick in a woman other than the bitch at the table he was sharing. Only a few of the people really noticed the odd collection of amazingly tall and muscular stallions surrounding them. It was for the best.

“The situation is… delicate,” Alpha Schreider summed it up.

Alpha Pete nodded. It was a rare thing indeed for an Alpha to have such an upper hand against his brethren. There were always spats, brawls, disputes over this boundary or that especially sweet piece of wolf ass. And Alpha Haig was known to be… excentric. And also, annoying.

Alpha Schreider was playing host to his council on his territory. The Alphas all agreed to hear Alpha Haig’s piece, but on neutral ground. He’d even offered to host the council in his garage, keeping it discrete. However, Alpha Haig had insisted on a bar. A junky-ass bar, at that, Alpha Pete noted, eyeing the limited choices for drafts. He craned his eyes further along the bar and spotted Alpha Haig. He was over at the cash register, getting the barkeep to unlock the private room he’d rented and recruiting a barback set up the chairs. Besides some cursory hellos to the other Alpha’s and the offering of his own second to be plowed by one of Schreider’s pack, the Alpha had stayed mum.

“Finally, room’s open!” Grant of Alpha Schreider pack, the bearded block of muscle from before in the truck lot, the only one of his pack not on guard outside, called out at last. All the Alphas and their seconds, including Alpha Pete and Bill, made their way inside. Alpha Haig led the way.

“Here goes,” Alpha Pete murmured. He finished his draft and left the empty pint glass on the table of the straight mortal leaking scent like crazy. The man looked up and smiled despite himself. Depending on the direction of the evening, Alpha Pete might want to sample some mortal ass later. But until then, the council… Alpha Pete headed inside.

Keep the comments coming. I love the feedback, wolf brothers.

Here is a brief list of characters, in order of wolf-size, to keep things straight:

• Alpha Pete, giant hulk of man, red headed and bearded

• Carlos, Latino, jungle-gym of muscle, originally from Mexico

• Tom, stoic and kind, muscle daddy and gentle giant, from Wisconsin

• Larry, talkative gentlemen, informally mated to Tom, from Tennessee

• Mullins, Police Chief, cookie-duster moustache, dedicated to duty and to Alpha Pete, but starting the branch out, new wolf

• Yousef, Lebanese gym owner and entrepreneur, Seth’s crush and coming into his own, new wolf

• Seth; U.S. Park Ranger, strong and swift, intelligent frenemy of Alpha Pete

• Bill, hairy and muscular, sweet and playful, sleeve tattoos

• Xochitl, Carlos’s mom, a witch in her own right, and owner of the town diner

• Zach, rookie cop and mondjugen, more and more enamored with Chief Mullin.

• Alpha Schreider, leader of the neighboring wolf territory and host of the Wolf Council, U.S. Army Veteran

• Grant, built like a brickhouse and partial to coveralls, bearded handyman

• Alpha Haig, excentric and plotting wolf from the north, who has hacked his way to the list of all mondjugen, everywhere.

Alpha Pete departed the meeting. By that, dear reader, we mean he burst out of the Alpha’s council in a rage. The giant red-headed hunk stormed bast the bar and through the pool tables, startling mortal patrons, barmaids, and tenders alike.

The giant wolf, so mad his muscular shoulders were practically steaming through his shirt, paused right at the door. He stood there, breathing deeply, his entire thorax pulsing. “You there,” he finally barked, not looking back. “U of M sweatshirt, no fabric softener. Drives a diesel. Chicken fingers on your breath.”

The room was dead silent. The other Alphas and their seconds, including Bill, peered out from the meeting room.

“Uh…me?” one of the men at the tables answered, the guy unconsciously exuding pheromones of arousal amongst his buddies.

“Yes, dumbass,” Alpha Pete said, continuing to look forward. “Your ass is coming with me.”

“Uh…I—” The man looked back and forth in confusion.

Faster than lightning, Alpha Pete had his hand at the man’s throat. “I said,” Alpha Pete continued, “Your ass is coming with me. And I get what I want.” The wolf in men’s clothing then ceremoniously mashed the bar patron’s face into his sweaty t-shirt. The man was no mondjugen, Alpha Pete knew that already. But those pheromones did not lie. The man craved dick.

Alpha Pete dragged the now-willing man out into the parking lot, the bar door swinging shut behind them.

“Poor human won’t know what hit him,” Alpha Schreider observed softly to Bill as they departed the meeting room.

“His hole won’t know what hit him,” Bill replied back. Bill felt a little sorry. He sure wished he was on the receiving end of that anger fuck.

Bill blinked when Alpha Schreider put his hand on Bill’s at the bar. “We all have a lot to think about from that meeting. In the meantime, I think Grant’s scenting is wearing off.”

“Yes, Sir,” Bill smiled back. He signaled to the barkeep, his sleeve tattoo flashing. “I want my pint,” the pup quipped.

“Now start from the beginning,” Larry spoke into the landline once Tom had picked up the other phone in the kitchen.

“He’s mad. Like completely batshit crazy,” Alpha Pete reported over the line.

“Like how?” Tom asked from the other room. “What did he want?”

“What you’d expect. Mother fucker wants to round up all the mondjugen like sheep, turn them all at once, and raise an army of wolves under Luna’s light. Take over the state of Michigan, maybe Wisconsin, or whatever shit. Shithead dumbass,” the Alpha’s fury made the phone rattle.

“Wanting and doing are two different things, y’all,” Larry broke in. “What did he want from the Alphas?”

“He’s such a little shit,” Alpha Pete raged into the line.

In the background, a man’s voice asked, “who are you talking to?” “Shut up!” Alpha Pete shouted back, off the line. There was a gurgle and a gasp. Alpha Pete sighed.

“What. Did. He. Want?” Larry practiced patience. “What did he say to you?”

“Oh, you know him,” Alpha Pete tone evened. “A big important speech about the nobility of the wolf. The bear, the lion, and the tiger in the circus, but never the wolf, and all that. Fucker always forgets the poodles on the motorcycles.”

“Alpha,” Tom interjected.

“Yeah, yeah, I know… He said we we’re either with him or against him. Alpha Haig claims he’s already sent out invites to a 1,000 mondjugen. Hackers got the identities of a bunch of them, up north...” Alpha Pete swallowed deeply. A shuffle as he adjusted the phone. “Made up some kind of sweepstakes prize, and each will be told he’s won. Come claim your prize at a rural address. If even a tenth of them take him up on it, that’s one hundred new pups in one fell swoop. And no way the humans don’t notice.”

Larry and Tom sighed into the line, taking it in.

“Undisciplined,” Alpha Pete continued, “untrained, unable to control their stirrings and not enough wolf cock to satisfy them. We’ll all be found out in a day. And then it’s hunting season, forever more.” Then he gave a grunt and a gasp. Another gurgle on the line.

Wolfkind lived in the shadows. The old actual witch hunts and wolf hunting parties had been long left to history books, cathedral manuscripts, and D&D cards. But a humans’ instinct, the compulsion for hunting was barely, only just barely, duller than a wolves.’

Tom was stoic. “What did the other Alphas say.”

Alpha Pete was silent for a moment. “Half tried to reason with him. That this isn’t our way. That mondjugen need to find their own way home. That this was against Luna’s will.”

“Praise Luna,” the two wolves toned on the end of the line.

“The other half… they wanted in. But tried to reason with him. For a more controllable pace of conversion. For time to gather their packs and consult on how many wolves could be spared to join in on the mass turning. But Alpha Haig said he’d already started the process, that the dates were set.”

“Lovely,” Larry said.

“What next?” Tom asked.

The line was quiet. “I… I don’t know,” Alpha Pete said. He gave a low moan. “We could… we could try to stop him. But… we don’t have information on this lottery, the address, or where Alpha Haig stays upstate. He doesn’t keep human quarters, and the hackers have masked all of his movements. And the mondjugen without scent…”

“We’d need to find a mondjugen with a lottery notice,” Tom said. “There’s got to be some blabbermouth online bragging about he just won the lotto.”

“We’ll search, hun,” Larry promised. “But you two best get back right quick.”

“You think?” Alpha Pete asked. “Staying here, maybe there’ll be a chance to strike sooner.” He was breathing more deeply.

“Luna comes in three days,” Larry reminded. “We can’t have two Alphas in the same town then, much less an entire council. It’d turn into World War III. Alpha Haig probably planned that to ensure y’all couldn’t linger. We owe it to Alpha Schreider anyways. It’s his turf. Get home.”

There was a sigh on the line. “Yes,” Alpha Pete finally agreed. He didn’t mind the candid advice from his two oldest pack members, especially given discretely like this. “I’ll fetch Bill, and we’ll drive back at first light.”

“Pup enjoying himself?” Tom chuckled into the line.

“Yup,” Alpha Pete laughed back. “We’re all gonna need to scent him three times over to get rid of Alpha Schreider’s stench.” All three guffawed into the line. It felt good to laugh.

“Dark times,” Larry said as he entered the den once the two had said their goodbyes.

Tom just stared out the window at the trees.

Larry came up beside his man and gave him a lick on the cheek. “Let’s go run rough,” he whispered the suggestion, and licked again. Nothing a good lick couldn’t solve. “Run until our lungs burn.”

Tom nodded. It would clear their thoughts. And it would be nice to get a good rut in, he also thought, randily. Once Alpha Pete was back, it would be all business. A stolen moment, a stolen night. He needed that.

Tom gave Larry a lick back.

“Do you think Alpha Pete was being blown the entire time, when he was on the line?” Larry asked.

“Yeah,” Tom grinned. Another lick. And then the two muscular gentlemen were on the porch. And then off barefoot into the grass and then the brush, and then on their paws, and soon dashing, dashing, dashing, until their breaths were grunts, and they were one with the woods.

Mountain Peaks Gym opened on time that next morning. Yousef made sure of it. Keeping regular hours, managing the staff, keeping up on the ordering and the maintenance… it kept him grounded. He’d embraced his wolfhood, endured the first month’s stirrings, figured out his new position in the pack. But he hadn’t lost his pride, his entrepreneurial spirit, nor his love of teaching. This gym meant a lot to him, and he wasn’t abandoning it. He’d scented all four corners of the building, absolute first thing, just to prove the point.

Certainly, he had a full client list. Pulling up the scheduling app, Yousef saw his first one came in an hour. Zach something. A newbie.

Just enough time to get in a good pump and admire himself in the new mirrors he’d installed.

Yousef walked from the front desk of the gym to one of the studios. That worthless contractor that smelled like lake water and night crawlers and fish scales had finally installed the full-length mirrors, and they looked great. As he passed the machines and free weights, Yousef closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He savored the scent.

Yousef was no stranger to the smells of a gym before his turning. However, now, it was a vast array of savory flavor. Musk, sweat, hair product, fabric softener. What amazed Yousef was the precision his nose now gave, even in human form. Walking just now, a full nine hours since the gym last closed, he could sense the distinct scents of at least twenty people, lingering. Two of them, males, were using steroids. Five were using whey protein, and seven had consumed creatine. The female scents were on various stages of their mistral cycle, and two smokers had joined the fun. All from sweat, breath, and musk. It would be overwhelming if Yousef brain hadn’t been rewired to accommodate all this. Truthfully, Yousef liked it. It made his gym feel more like a community, at least to him. Everyone left their mark. The worst day of the week for him was when the cleaning crew did a heavy-duty mopping, sterilizing everything. It was the equivalent of a completely dark room for a wolf brain.

Entering the studio of the still-empty gym, Yousef shucked his t-shirt and struck a pose. He never got tired of it. Wolfhood had given him the body of his dreams. Pecs engorged with muscle and heft, sticking out prominently from his chest, the silver-dollar sized nips prominent and nested in the hurricane swirl of his black chest hair.

The convergence of his pecs, his traps, delts, and arms—it was a thing of beauty. Da Vinci would have wept, he’d be unable to capture the perfection. Yousef had wings now, a shoulder span as wide as an ax handle, something his human self had always longed for. All the way on down from his muscular next to his well-turned calves, with a well-rounded rear and swollen manhood in between. It was just… Yousef chubbed up, a little sheepishly, looking at himself. Perfection.

Praise Luna, Yousef whispered, and flopped down his shorts, releasing his cock. Praise Luna and her many gifts. Her ample gifts, he thought, barely able to hold his sack and cock both in one hand.

The wolf jacked himself off, unable to resist. His cock grew larger and larger, with Yousef smiling broader and broader as he admired himself in the mirror. Yousef was never a peacock before all this, but the wolf’s libido was strong and unrelenting.

The new mirrors echoed Yousef’s yell of pleasure and received the spray of his ecstasy. It was a beautiful thing.

Yousef was coming down from his high, when his smartphone dinged. His prayer app was calling the athan. Noting that he’d need to return soon with some Windex and paper towels, yourself picked up his phone. The pumped Arab stud, reeking of testosterone, checked the compass app, and then knelt down, still nude, and began his first mornings’ prayers to Allah. It wasn’t exactly proper to perform the ritual without clothing, but then it wasn’t exactly proper to do a lot of things that Yousef now found second nature.

“Allah Akbar,” he prayed. [“God is great.”] His pack’s admonishments aside, Yousef tried to hang on to some of the old ways.

The next part was harder: “Ashhadu an la ilaha illa llah.” [“I testify there is nothing worthy of worship except God.”]

That grated at Yousef. Couldn’t Luna and Allah share his devotion? The love for his pack didn’t detract from the love for his family. Why would love of one God, the God of men, be diminished by the love of the Goddess of the were? Maybe Luna was another face of the same Allah? Lacking a were theologian and too afraid to consult an imam, Yousef tried hard to reconcile this thought. Allah would understand, he hoped.

Allah Akbar, the jacked muscular wolf prayed, kneeling, nude, hairy, surrounded by the scent of his spunk and a hundred athletes who had danced on that floor the night prior. The first student would be coming soon.

The Crown Victoria cruised over the hill, Chief Mullins at the wheel and Carlos working the radio. “Dispatch, this is Unit 24, 10-97 approaching the location of the 10-66. Requesting 10-85 on how many units are 10-97 on scene, over,” Carlos let go of the call button.

“Look at you, been doing your lessons,” the Chief nodded with satisfaction, keeping his eyes forward. His moustache rose a bit with the proud smile. The Crown Victoria smelled of the empty Arby’s takeout bag in the back, gun oil, and lingering cigarette from when the force was still allowed to smoke in the cruisers.

“Stuff it,” Carlos said back, slamming the radio down into the holder as the dispatcher reported a ‘stand by command.” There was a raid of a meth lab in the west hills above the town, a federal operation, and local PD were being roused to provide backup and traffic control. The boys in blue were on their way.

Carlos didn’t mind the blue—hell, he loved the way the uniform made him look—but Alpha Pete’s original cover scheme was bringing the pack more and more into performing actual law enforcement functions. Carlos didn’t like it. The Pack protected the Pack, and the humans needed to take care of their own business. The cosplay was getting annoying.

“Show some respect, Patrolman” Mullins replied, laughing, flipped on his turn signal for the approaching crossroads.

“You show some respect,” Carlos responded, meeting the laugh with seriousness. It went unsaid that he was the acting Alpha.

Chief Mullins gripped the steering wheel and evened his breathing.

The radio crackled to life. “Unit 24, be advised, 10-97 count is seven LEOs, two 10-63s, and one 10-52 already on scene, over.”

“10-4, over,” Carlos snatched the radio up before Chief Mullins could grab it.

“I’m still the chief,” Mullins turned left off of the state route. “That doesn’t change,” he raised his voice as they passed from asphalt to noisier gravel. “No matter what.”

“It’s nice that you think that, pup” Carlos responded.

Mullins tensed again. “I’m gonna tell Alpha,” he murmured.

Carlos rolled his eyes. The first month of breaking a young pup in was always the most annoying.

“Gonna tell,” Mullins continued to look forward, mouthing the words more softly. Then he grunted as his head thudded against his side window, the equal and opposite reaction to Carlo’s side-punch. Then an oof and a grunt as Carlos was atop him.

The larger wolf had performed a lightning fast 1-2-3-4. Punching Mullins in the side of the head, then leaning right, unbuckling his belt at the same time. Third, lunging to his left again, atop Mullins, and finally engaging, hands on the wheel and foot on the break. In control of the vehicle, Carlos brought the Crown Victoria to a halt.

“What the fuck?!?!?” Mullins clutched his head in dismay and anger. He grunted again as the giant Carlos maneuvered atop him and around, not an inch to spare. Carlos arched above him, head and back now against the windshield and car roof like a snarling gargoyle. The giant officer steadied himself, clutching the security bars separating the front cab from the rear passenger seats, now face to face with Mullins, separated not even an inch. Carlos freed a hand from the bars and clutched the pup’s jaw, muting the chief, bringing him in even closer.

“You’re new,” Carlos growled. “But this ‘I’m telling—I’m telling,’ is old, pendejo.”

Mullins tried to wiggle free, but found himself completely pressed into the driver’s seat, Carlos’ full weight on top of him. He was immobilized.

“You tell Alpha Pete whatever you like, pup” Carlos continued. “He’ll find out you gave mouth back to your acting Alpha. See how far that will get you.”

The chief tried to speak, struggling against the stronger man’s iron-clamp grip on his jaw.

“We tolerate you on the force now. Get it? Tolerate it,” Carlos continued, anticipating the argument, shaking the pup roughly. “It serves us, just like Seth’s park ranger gig. It serves us. We don’t serve them, the humans,” Carlos’s tone raised, the disgust evident. “The second it’s not useful, it ends. Get that into your head.”

Mullins gave a moan of protest, as much for the pain of Carlos’s grip as for that controlling statement.

“So don’t tell me to show respect for some human bullshit title,” Carlos asserted. “We’re playing cops and robbers, get it? Playing. And only because Alpha Pete says so.” He let go of Mullins’ jaw.

“I’m separated from my wife, my kids,” Mullins spat back. “Now you’re taking my career—”

“Luna found you,” Carlos interrupted, not allowing him to wiggle free.

“Praise Luna,” they both chanted.

Carlos paused a second. “You are magic, you are moonlight, you are midnight made flesh, a miracle so old not even the stars know why,” the Latino recited reverently. “Ev’ry gift has a price, every miracle has a cost. So yes, there are sacrifices to be made. Now get out of the car, runt.”

“Runt?! Carlos, I—” Mullins tried to interject. He was offended at the term.

The acting Alpha did not wait. He opened the driver’s side door and shoved the muscular police chief onto the gravel before stepping out himself.

Mullins was quickly stripped of his pants. They bunched around his ankles, caught in the officer’s boots. “Help me get them off,” the chief grunted, trying to wiggle his hands free from Carlos’s grasp.

“No need,” Carlos grunted back, not letting go. “On your knees. Gonna mount you like a bitch.” And then Mullins’ eyes popped open as he heard the click of handcuffs.

Mullins was not surprised at the initiation of sex. He’d given lip, he’d been bad, and now pack order needed to be restored. A true fight, a true battle, that could lead to a wounded pack member, a loss of a hunter, a laid-up warrior. That would do a Pack no good at all.

So it was that Carlos was brought down to the ground in short order. He grunted shamelessly on the country road as Carlos went to town on his exposed hole, rimming him deeply with a wicked tongue. Mullins lost his pride and begged for more, feeling the lingering stirrings rise within him. His guts gurgled greedily. Pup needed it! He spread his knees out, arched his back, and suffered the dust and gravel in his face, ensuring his muscle ass was raised high and ready.

After ten amazing minutes of rimming heaven, Mullins was a mewling mess on quivering legs, a swollen cocks and balls swinging in between like a pendulum, having just expelled their second load. The geyser spray coated Mullins’ inner thighs, uniform shirt, and even his chin.

Carlos jumped up, his mouth a slobbering mess, still clothed with his fly open and manhood exposed and erect. It flopped large and masterful in the country air. The scent was everywhere. Both wolves’ nostrils were flared, their tongues wagging even in human form. The Latino stallion kicked Mullins’ spread legs a bit farther apart. Cool air met wet skin. The entire ass shivered, the hole fluttering.

The spearing of the chief’s hole was so so welcomed, even as it was humiliating, dominating, degrading.

Mullins braced himself and took it, relishing in Carlos’s scent, thickness, and heat. He gritted his teeth and squeezed back, trying to hold on to the larger wolf’s maleness, not wanting it to end. His own cock pulsed wildly, almost ready to give issue a third time.

A mighty unedited grunt was heard. Carlos’s cock discharged as his orgasm came. Mullins moaned needily and desperately beneath him, reflexively straining against his handcuffs, deeply wanting to free his hands, to grasp at his own cheeks, wanting nothing else in all of existence but to pull them further open, to take more thick wolf cock. The pup came powerfully a third time, into the dirt-turned-mud below him.

The two breathed in unison as they came down from their highs. Slowly, Carlos withdrew, and stood up, Mullins still in position.

“Tell Alpha that, pup,” Carlos gave the exposed bubble a solid spank, piercing the country road air. The acting Alpha moseyed back to the cruiser while he buttoned himself back up. He sniffed the air. Another vehicle’s exhaust was present—a car approaching. Returning with the keys, Mullins was soon uncuffed.

The chief crumpled into the road, his belly splatting into his own crummy puddle. He was panting, in gratitude and in resignation.

Resignation only for the day. Amidst his revelry of the hard fuck, Chief Mullins held on to something. Something in the back of his mind. “Someday, I’ll be an Alpha,” Chief Mullins promised himself. He thought of his Zach (thinking of the rookie as “his”). I’ll be an Alpha someday; Mullins swore to himself. I’ll show them.

“Hurry up, fuck pup” Carlos helped Mullins up, unawares, and then two brushed themselves off as best they could. They needed to get to the meth raid. They needed to keep up appearances. The uniforms looked pretty good, if dusty. Luckily human noses would not be able to smell the rank musk from Carlos and the spunk the Chief of Police was leaking down his rear and legs.

The first training session was… weird.

Yousef’s new trainee arrived on time. That was always welcome, the small business owner in him thought appreciatively.

The young man was jacked. Like, jacked. His musculature was in bloom. Yousef actually did not believe the man when he claimed to be new to weight training. There was no acne, excessive body hair, or a roid gut to tip off gear use. “I just have so much pent-up energy, felt I need to do something with it,” Zach explained as Yousef led him through some introductory stretching and flexibility tests. “Plus, I really want to look good naked,” Zach forced a laugh with a wink. Yousef tried not to roll is eyes. Like he had never heard that one before.

The only thing was, the kind smelled like Chief Mullins, Yousef’s pack member. A few innocent questions revealed Zach was on the force, which would hopefully explain things. Maybe he and Mullins had shared a shift earlier. Only just, the scent was so damns strong.

Yousef pushed it out his mind. Wolfhood was a gift, he now understood, but he had a business to run.

Plus, Yousef was always jazzed to have a motivated student. And the kid was motivated. He was attentive to Yousef’s demonstrations of proper form, open to feedback on adjusting his stance, his back, his grip. the correct number of sets and reps. It was rewarding to have an open student.

The weirdness raised its head again when Zach performed his first bench press. Yousef stood over him, trying to push the scent of Mullins out of his mind. He had just indicated the trainee match his ring fingers to the indicator grooves in the bar, and then stepped up on the other side of the bar, looking down as Zach reached up. Yousef opened his arms out to maneuver his palms under the bar, ready to catch it in case Zach needed an assist, and bent his knees, akimbo and read. This was when the kid went woozy.

“Yikes,” Yousef said, having to catch the bar on the first rep. The rookie cop could barely lift the bar at all. After replacing the bar one its hooks, Yousef looked back down, super concerned. Zach’s heart was racing, his breathing deep. “I… sorry, I don’t… I don’t know what…” Zach panted, sitting up, and then doubling over, clutching his temples.

Yousef helped him sit up again on the bench, ensuring he was breathing okay. Yousef tried to breathe through his mouth, avoiding the arousal pheromones that Zach was belching out from his skin. The trainee’s crotch was rank with musk seeping out of the compression gear. The man’s arousal was painfully apparent.

“You ever experience anything… like this before?” Yousef was able to ask after the kid calmed down. A box fan he’d fetched seemed to help cool the kid down (and cleared the air for Yousef).

“A few times,” Zach admitted. “At work. I figured it was stress.” He took another deep breath in and savored the coolness of the fan. That was a fib. Zach was no dummy and knew it only happened around the Chief. But that carried implications he’d rather not explore, so he’d tried pointedly not to think about it. This was the first time away from the precinct.

If Yousef were a more experienced wolf, he would have thought a bit more about his own actions when Zach’s arousal started. It was when Yousef had stepped up to the prone Zach, bringing his wolf junk close, and opened his arms to start assisting with the bar, exposing his arm pits to the mondjugen.

Zach was a good kid. They spent the rest of the session taking it a bit easier and running some relays and agility tests in the side parking lot. The rest of the training session, spent outside in the open air, brought no further episodes. Zach had already passed a thorough physical to be able to join the force, so Yousef didn’t think a cardiologist was needed. He agreed to keep training the rookie so long as he be honest about any further spells. They also engaged with some playful ribbing about their favorite soccer and football teams. This might even turn into a new friendship, Yousef smiled to himself as Zach and he bumped fists and the trainee headed back to the locker rooms. It would be nice to make a human friend after the tumultuous past month.

His next trainee was already at the front desk.

“I see the mirrors were finally installed,” Seth observed, leaning against the front desk, his muscles packed into some black track shorts and a plain sage green tee.

“Fuckers took forever, bro,” Yousef replied, smiling.

“They get it done this week?”

“Yes,” Yousef nodded. “Contractors were in and out in a day.”

“Weird it was so speedy after all that delay,” Seth nodded, even toned but smiling.

“Really weird,” Yousef returned. “They were usually so focused on fishing.”

“Maybe someone threatened to pull their fishing license in the national park,” Seth smiled back, arching his eyebrow.

“Not that you would know anything about that,” Yousef nodded.

“I miss you,” Seth said as they began to train together. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“This month…” Yousef started. “Seth… it’s been crazy.”

“Your stirrings?” Seth continued.

“Died down,” Yousef answered. “Allah Akbar.”

Seth blinked at the invocation. “Yeah, I know.” He remembered his own first month of wolfhood. Seth had barely been able to keep his ranger uniform on; shit, his first Alpha ripped through seven of them, exhausting the ranger’s annual uniform allowance before Luna’s next dance. “I’d like to see more of you,” Seth said finally. Nail on the head.

“Seth,” Yousef chose his words carefully, putting his dumbbell 35’s down. “You’re my bro. You’re my pack. I…” the Arab man tried to find the words to let his bro down east. “I’ve only just starting liking guys.”

Seth nodded, looking ahead, performing his 21’s.

“I know you’re looking for something bigger, like with Larry and with Tom,” Yousef continued. “I’m barely taking care of myself. I can’t take care of you like they do for each other.”

“I can take care of you,” Seth interjected.

Yousef smiled. “I’m not ready, bro. I don’t even know what I fucking want. Just… let’s just be for a little while?”

Seth could not give a retort. Yes, the pup needed time. Yes, Seth was being impatient. Yes, Seth was being selfish. Yes, there was no rush.

But it still hurt. Wolfhood made everything complicated. Everything.

The two parted as friends, as bros. Yousef even slipped in a “brah” to the conversation, which always made Seth laugh. U.S. Park Ranger McBride headed out to his jeep to head up to the ranger station, a lot on his mind. Sitting down at his desk, Yousef idly clicked open his Outlook.

Another one? Muscular Yousef sighed in sheer annoyance. Didn’t these identity theft lowlifes have anything better to do? The subject line—“You’re a Sweepstakes Winner!!”—was all he needed to see. Yousef deleted the email without even reading the body.

Keep the comments coming. I love the feedback, wolf brothers. Here is a brief list of characters, in order of wolf-size, to keep things straight:

• Alpha Pete, a giant hulk of man, red-headed and bearded

• Carlos, Latino, jungle-gym of muscle, originally from Mexico

• Tom, stoic and kind, muscle daddy and gentle giant, from Wisconsin

• Larry, talkative gentlemen, informally mated to Tom, from Tennessee

• Mullins, Police Chief, cookie-duster moustache, dedicated to duty and to Alpha Pete, but starting the branch out, new wolf

• Yousef, Lebanese gym owner and entrepreneur, Seth’s crush and coming into his own, new wolf

• Seth; U.S. Park Ranger, strong and swift, intelligent frenemy of Alpha Pete

• Bill, hairy and muscular, sweet and playful, sleeve tattoos

• Xochitl, Carlos’s mom, a witch in her own right, and owner of the town diner

• Zach, rookie cop and mondjugen, more and more enamored with Chief Mullin.

• Alpha Schreider, leader of the neighboring wolf territory and host of the Wolf Council, U.S. Army Veteran

• Grant, built like a brickhouse and partial to coveralls, bearded handyman

• Alpha Haig, excentric and plotting wolf from the north, who has hacked his way to the list of all mondjugen, everywhere.

Seth heard his cell ding as he was finishing layout out the collection of harnesses and leashes on his basement floor. It was their group text chain again.

Pack—Home after nightfall. So much shit going down w/ A’s Council. Will need to double patrol our borders this moon. Our usual rendezvous. Praise Luna.—Alpha P

Rendezvous point, jackass, Seth thought, gritting his teeth. On top of this curse, he was being led by an idiot. He set to attach his mountain climbing clips to the walls and ceiling joists. The basement smelled like cobwebs, the knotty-pine paneling, and the thawed ribeye he had on a plate at the center of the room.

Yousef, the newbie, responded to the group chain.

[Yousef:] Where is the rendezvous?

[Larry:] Camp ground, same as before, hun.

State Park Bill’s text arrived almost simultaneously.

[State Park Bill:] Camp ground

[Carlos:] Did Seth reserve it?

We reserved, right, Seth?

Reserved?

Another three inquiries were texted in before Seth could get a message out.

[Seth:] Yes. Rez. No. 45376980.

Thanx, Ferret

[Seth:] :middle_finger:

[Alpha P:] Don’t make me come down there

Seth tossed the phone back on the basement’s workbench and set to finish setting up his restraints for the evening.

The last of Mountain Peaks Gym’s lights turned off, the doors locked, and the staff dismissed for the night. Yousef stepped out to the back lot. It smelled of some dried gasoline slick, the fetid dumpster, and the pines standing sentry on all corners around them. A scramble of moths around the security lights was his company.

Yousef had turned wolf many times over the past month. Still, he was nervous. This was his first full moon since his turning. The one where they all went feral. The others had given a mixture of hazing stories and playful ribbing. Yousef held on to stoic Tom’s advice: “Strip. No sense ruining good clothes. And then just follow your nose.”

Yousef disrobed in the back lot and put his clothes and shoes into his car. He hid the key fob under a rock at the side of the lot, and then, feeling a little awkward, barefoot on the asphalt, he headed back to his car. He indulged himself a bit of vain body builder posing in his reflection in the vehicle.

Yousef glanced around the empty lot, ensuring no one is watching. His powerful physique is apparent, muscles rippling, each movement a testament to years of bulking and cutting, plus the prior months’ additional goodies. Between stirrings, Yousef grinned sheepishly himself. The number of notches on his proverbial bedpost was getting long indeed.

Gentle nature aside, Yousef had a flicker of vanity in his eyes, once brown now copper. He shifted slightly, posing to highlight the broadness of his hairy olive shoulders and the definition in his arms. The wolf took a deep breath and fanned out his lats. For a moment, the shyness faded, replaced by a quiet pride.

He turned and strained to look over his shoulder in order to admire the way his back muscles tapered down to his trim waist, flexing just enough to see the play of light and shadow from the lots’ security lighting across his muscle-riddled broadside.

The night air was cool, but he did not feel it now, lost in this private moment of self-appreciation and what with his body temperature increasing. Already the changes were manifesting. Yousef shifted his body again, this time focusing on his legs, flexing his quads to see the striations ripple beneath his skin. He’d been so busy with the pack, with Mountain Peaks, it was novel to spare a moment to again admire himself and this wonderful vessel of a body he was improving, perfecting. He hoped he didn’t have to give the wolf magic too much credit. In that stolen moment, Yousef allowed himself to revel in the strength, the reflection in the car making it feel naughty and special.

The Lebanese wolf lost his footing as he tried to look over his shoulder at his stupendous Arnold pose. The shyness returned. Yousef quickly straightened up, brushing his hand through his trim chest hair as if to dismiss the moment.

Then it happened.

Yousef gasped at the first cramp.

It was deep inside of himself, somewhere in his trunk. A deep unignorable pulse of something.

Another cramp followed about ten seconds later. It was coming.

Yousef breathed a bit, trying not to let his nervousness get the better of him. Naked and muscular, he turned his gaze up to the sky. Twilight time was fading into night. Pin-pricks of light were emerging in the dimming vale. And just at the tree line, the gorgeous orb emerged.

It was one of the most beautiful things Yousef had ever seen.

His breathing became heavy, his skin began to itch, and the musk in his pits and pubes surged. He blinked and shook himself. Human thoughts became cloudy, and he could feel it already getting harder to stand straight up.

Yousef’s plump high buttocks cramped and twitched as his tail unfurled. The wolfman’s thoughts dimmed and his impulse control waived away. Yousef was left in a hazy fog, feeling only awe at the Goddess light overwhelming him. Yousef did what felt natural to him when encountering the divine. He dropped to his knees and began the salah.

“Allah akbar…” he murmured, bowing as his mane of fur emerged across his scapulas, coating over his bite scar, then his back, his glutes. No… somehow, that felt wrong…

“Que… Qamar akbar….” Yousef prayed. That felt right, somehow. Somehow better. He recited three more times. On the last recitation, he ended his prayer bow, and looked up at the sky, eyes aglow, copper turning citrine. “Ashhadu anna la ila ill Qamar,” Yousef started in on the second part, struggling not to garble this prayer before his snout asserted itself and all human thoughts were lost.

The grunting and snuffling continued a few minutes more, and then the barrel-chested beast was off into the trees, quick as quick. The moths were left to their manic solitude in the vacant parking lot’s lights. Luna continued her rise into the heavens.

Larry and Tom’s clothing were left on their porch, neatly folded on a rocking chair. Two wolfs of unusual size were in the woods immediately in front of their cabin. The larger one gnawed at the others’ jaw as they snuffled and snorted at each other, jostling, testing each other’s strength. Each knew the other’s scent well. The jousting was to reestablish hierarchy and confirm that all was well. Each smelt the other’s anus. No sign of ill health or parasites or strange diets. The larger one snorted and licked the youngster’s muzzle. All was as it should be.

A howl came from beyond the trees. Both snapped their snouts eastward. Their ears pointed upwards; all senses honed. A scent? Just barely a scent. An… Alpha! It was Alpha! Praise Luna!

We must run. Oh yes, we must.

The two charged forward, snuffing heavily so as to track the scent, and to guide their footsteps. The larger gave a howl occasionally, when they were cresting this or that ridge and could leverage the high vantage point.

Bounding through a dip in the terrain, a flock of roosting grouse exploded into the air from the brush, flushed out by beasts. The larger wolf grunted from the thrill of it, not even slowing down. The younger wolf gave a triumphant snap at the air as the birds blurred around them. None were more surprised than he when his jaw caught one of the cocks mid-flight. He almost stumbled at the new weight.

It was as clean a snatch as could be, the young wolf felt it euphorically. Right on the neck and shoulders. The thing hung limply, no struggle at all. A feast for Alpha! A feast for the pack! Lucky him! Oh, lucky him!! The younger wolf dashed forward, savoring the scent of blood, fresh meat and sinew, and his pack-mate’s virility, right in front of them.

Alpha’s scent was stronger and stronger. Another one too… yes, the young one, yes. Scented by another pack... but Alpha was present so all must be well… They must soon rut him and make that right… And off to the west, another wolf… no, two! Two approaching! The temporary Alpha and the other new one. All approaching. All shall feast.

Yes! Good! Yes!!

The Alpha paced around the clearing. The youngest wolf paced behind him, copycat. The pack was approaching. Hurry up, the Alpha snorted. So much. So much indeed to do.

The two mated wolves burst through the trees. The four paced around each other for a moment, taking in the scent before the Alpha jumped and playfully batted at the two entrants, welcoming them in. The slighter one carried a bounty in his teeth: a fresh grouse. Praise Luna, the Alpha was hungry.

Unbidden, the slight wolf dropped his game onto the ground at the feet of his Alpha, his ears turned down.

Another wolf emerged from the tree line, the large one, the temporary Alpha. He was panting heavily from the dash. Thirty seconds later, the new one, the one that always smelt of the sweat of men and of that building where the men always gathered and grunted on strange machines, arrived from the other direction, his tongue wagging, his yellow eyes alive.

So many wolves arrived! Praise Luna, how good to be together. They paced around in circles again, jostling at the shoulders and sniffing at rears, reestablishing who was who. Several growled at the young one, the one who had just traveled with their Alpha from across the hills. He carried the scent of the Others. Heavily scented. The two largest growled. Longest with the pack, they wanted no truck with the Others.

The Alpha bobbed his head a few times, then craned upwards, shaking his muscular neck energetically. His dander scented the clearing. All the wolves panted and snuffed. All grew a little bit aroused.

Calm, the Alpha barked. Calm.

The wolves all sat on their haunches, in a wide uneven circle, Alpha at the center.

The Alpha grunted, satisfied. He grunted again, with a different inflection. The young one’s ears perked up.

Wolves did not have names, per se. A pack member was known by their scent. Make no mistake, grunts, barks, yips, and growls all had their uses, signals to hunt, to track, to warn, to celebrate. But a combination of a sound, a gaze, and nod allowed a beast to differentiate the Alpha’s tone to understand whom he was beckoning. The young one came forward.

The Alpha nuzzled and licked at the young one’s snout. His intent became clear. The young one gnawed back, and they fell into some playful wrestling, still on their paws. The activity became stronger and stronger on the Alpha’s part. Finally, he gave three sharp barks. The young one squatted his haunches down some, thrashing his tail, taking the signal.

Yes. Good. Yes. All the pack nodded. The young one had been scented while traveling beyond the hills with the Others. Now home, he was brought back into the fold. The young one grunted like a champ as he was mounted. Yes. Good. No harm done. Back in the pack. No more Others. Good.

The young one grunted as his Lord Alpha’s engorged prick pounded in deeper and deeper, his Alpha’s weight on top of him, his Alpha’s breath infesting his nostrils. Yes. Oh fucking yes.

Several pawed the ground. More scenting to come, yes? Oh Yes. More to come…

It was a quick rut, more ceremonial than for pleasure. Still, the Alpha enjoyed it, and he ensured the pup did too. No, this one was more than a pup. He’d more than proven himself in the journey over the mountain, to the Others. The Alpha spent himself, biting at the young one’s ears, which he knew the pack member liked. The Alpha always needed to know what each member liked, what kept them loyal, what made them feel special. An Alpha who did not tend his pack was not to be an Alpha for long. An Alpha was useful to his pack until he was not; and an Alpha was in control of his pack until he was not. And the until was the key part, the part most critical.

The other wolves moved into rut, added their scent to the eager young one. Playful yipping ensued, and other wolves paired off, to amuse themselves, to enjoy one another’s company and bodies. The grouse, still so fresh the flesh was almost steaming, was shared right to the bone, the Alpha deferring to his pack. He was famished, but again, best to tend to the pack. The young one was given one entire breast for his efforts. He was a lucky lucky boy!

It was a bacchanal, a wonderful interlude before the night’s hunt commenced. But there two missing, Alpha grunted. Two. The sorrowful, recalcitrant one, of course. He rarely came. But the other, the other new one, the one so adoring and worshipful of his Alpha… missing. Strange indeed.

But no matter. Luna could not wait.

The Others, the Alpha grunted.

The pack looked up from their rutting, their feasting.

The Others, the young one yipped in echo. He licked his chops.

The Others, the Alpha signaled. Trouble. He marked the ground with a powerful spray. All nodded. Yes. They must patrol their borders. Yes, the troublesome Others. Yes. Scenting, guarding, stopping the Others. Yes. Good—together. Good together, not with the Others.

Scent the hills, the Alpha indicated, running his cheek against one of the clearings’ border trees. He then barked his hunger.

Yes, a scenting patrol, and then a hunt. All was clear, all was good. With the precision of a murmur of starlings, the Pack was off, into the woods. So much to do.

Zach groaned in frustration. Noise-canceling headphones, a white noise machine, and two pillows atop his head just would not eradicate his housemate’s dumbass dog’s loud, intrusive barking.

The bleary-eyed roommate was apologetic. “He’s usually not like this.” The dog, a Sheltie, was fed, watered, crated, and comforted. He just would not shut up, barking animatedly at the woods. Zach and the housemate had even scanned the trees with flashlights outside their rental, trying to see if a mountain lion was in the trees, and checked the garbage cans for a visiting black bear. Nothing.

Zach resigned himself to no sleep at all. Damnit. He’d worked a double already and had dispatcher duty early tomorrow. Policing was hard work. Plus all the nervous energy and excitement, he felt when around the Chief. Zach grew hard in his boxer-briefs. Jesus, the Chief…

The rookie had submitted to more watersports today. Zach had no words for it. The Chief approached, the door was shut, the clothes came off, and Zach kneeled and reveled. He felt ashamed, nervous, fearing being discovered but fearing absolutely more that it would stop. The Chief had hinted at more tasks to come, thought he knew not what.

All Zach knew was that it made sense. The rest of the world was crazy and chaotic, but when he knelt before the Chief and received his searing hot water, and that wonderful arid human smell, anything that came after was paradise, pure and sure.

The patrolmen smiled softly, and started to doze, moving his hips a bit on the bed to enjoy his hardness. The comfort the Chief brought bring him off into the Land of Nod. There, in his dreams, Zach found himself naked with the Chief, running through shady woods, through moonlit fields, swimming into welcoming ink-black lakes, the moon flashing on the surface like silver. The Chief will happy yellow eyes. All was beautiful and right.

The Sheltie barked until hoarse.

Off in the woods, the wolf stood watch on his Mondjugen. The entire woods were marked as off-limits with urine, scat, and musk—a virtual fortress. Still, the beast remained. The wolf was so new at this, he did not understand that the scenting alone would warn off other wolves to the firsts’ property. All the same, the wolf felt protective of his Mondjugen, and spent his night on the fringes of the property. No one would threaten this beautiful man and the plans the wolf had for him.

Bill waived Xochitl down with a well-muscled tattoo-sleeved arm to his diner counter seat and ordered a third cup of joe. “Long night, chico?” she asked, refilling his cream porcelain mug.

“Sí, mami,” Carlos confirmed from the accompanying stool, smiling in his police uniform. He signaled for a refill too. He winced slightly, adjusting his perch.

“Radio’s talking about cows reported stolen this morning from three farms on the East side of the park,” Xochitl said, indicating at the back office. “Be careful.” She headed off to go scream at the bus boy, who had accidentally dropped his dish tub on the floor with a clatter of plastic and silverware. Bill and Carlos looked admiringly at the busboy’s rear as he bent down to clean up the dishes and slop. Carlos sighed. So sad for such a beautiful buck to be cursed with mortal-hood. Again, inquiries had been made.

“Wait…” Bill started. “Three farms?”

“Three…” Carlos repeated, catching on to the significance. He checked his work smartphone. As he did it, the muscle bull Latino ground his well-worked rear into the diner stool, purring in satisfaction. After last night, the pressure on the well-worked flesh was too good not to savor. On the phone, more chatter about reporting the event to the state department of agriculture, warnings for the country sheriff and other jurisdictions, and a direction look for anything strange on the road, like an unlicensed cattle car on a pickup or furtive effort to sell a lot of cheap meat. That amount of cow made for a lot of steak... But three?

As near as Carlos’ memories could tell (times under Luna’s gaze were always inherently hazy), they’d only come upon two herds of cattle. Two heifers from each, fat and delicious, taken down, devoured, and the bones buried deep.

“There was no third herd,” Bill said.

As they each took another sip of coffee, their nostrils flared. Alpha Pete’s scent preceded him entering the diner by thirty seconds. Bill took his bag off the empty bar stool on his other side, and Carlos signaled for a menu and another coffee.

The Alpha entered and buzzed right past the hostess. “This seat taken?” he clomped on over, not waiting for an answer. The stool complained as the giant man took a seat. Bill and Carlos both gave brief reverent but subtle bows from their seats. No need to trade on ceremony in a crowded diner full of mortals. But the gesture was important.

“Three?” Alpha Pete mused as his pack filled him in.

“It could just be an actual human thief,” Carlos offered.

“Could be,” Alpha Pete took a swig of coffee. “Gracias, Doña Xochitl.” Carlos’ mom nodded and patted his arm, and then headed down the counter line.

“What do you want to do, Alpha?” Bill asked. He shifted on his seat, half in pain and half in satisfaction. Last night had been very enjoyable. He’d been put through his paces. Any wolf a mile away could tell he was owned by this pack.

“Those farms are all near the border with Alpha Schreider. I’ll alert him,” Alpha Pete promised. “If it’s him, there’ll be hell to pay. Especially after this week, there’ll sure be hell to pay. If not him, then we’ll doubly need to talk to Alpha Schreider and his pack. They got Canadian bacon this week?” he scanned the paper menu.

Carlos understood what was meant by “this week.” The second in command was already clued in to the events of the Alpha Council. He was strangely calm about the developments of Alpha Pete’s journey and the theft of cattle on the pack’s territory. But then, that was natural. The edge had been taken off: Carlos was freshly fucked.

The ceremony to bring Others-scented Bill back into the fold did not even hope to compare to the debauchery and the extreme coring-out Carlos endured to pass the temporary Alpha torch back to his Lord Alpha. They’d fit it in after the second cow butchering, with their bellies full and snouts red. The ceremony resulting in a scenting so deep that, even now this next morning, not even the most experienced of Alpha or bloodhound could tell the difference between Alpha Pete and his boy Carlos based solely upon smell. It was a wonderful thing. Carlos grunted again, shifting his rear in the standard issue uniform pants, carrying his pints—so many pints.

“But how could they get on our land?” Bill asked. “We were in full hunting mode. No wind, no storm to dull the scent or conceal their numbers. Not even a car’s exhaust or a moo.” Humans, especially thieving humans, always made the worst clatter. It just didn’t make sense.

Carlos’ radio on his belt scratched, interrupted their own chatter. “All units, be advised, we’ve got a 10-67, repeat, 10-67,” the dispatcher, a male voice, started. The voice was super-sleepy, but focused. “Large-scale livestock theft reported off Route 90. Approximately six head of cattle missing. Suspected 459-Ag, possible organized operation. Requesting any available units to respond, Code 3. Be advised, suspects may be armed and dangerous, approach with caution. All responding units, acknowledge with your current 10-20 and ETA. Dispatcher out.”

“10-4… good buddy,” Carlos responded back into the radio, but did not get up. He had his coffee to finish, after all.

“How’s Mullins?” Alpha Pete asked, indicating at the radio. “It’s weird he didn’t come.”

“He’s having trouble with his wife,” Carlos said. “But I’m keeping him in line.”

Alpha Pete nodded. Human relationships were hard, neigh impossible, to maintain once humanity was cast off. He doubted the marriage would last. He knew of none that could survive it, with the change into wolfhood. The same-sex attraction on top of it—absolutely and completely, as iron-clad as it was mysterious—was entirely enjoyable to every wolf, but it also tended to affect those amongst them who were husbands and fathers. It was not a topic to dwell on amongst lupine company. Alpha Pete was self-aware enough to be thankful he’d had no such ties. He’d seen the pain it caused Tom, for certain. So, Mullins was to be given space and understanding as things worked themselves out.

But still, Mullins had been worshipful and obedient, a Gold-Star pupil, up until this last night’s dance with Luna. With the trouble Alpha Haig was bringing, Alpha Pete needed everyone to be ready. He’d go and see the errant pup right away and set him straight.

All three wolves’ cells dinged.

[Seth:] I’m finally unleashed and unharnessed, in case anyone cares.

Alpha P texted back directly to his pack member.

Gotta talk to you, Ferret, ASAP

Things were getting serious, and fast. He needed McBride.

Xochitl could tell her baby’s pack was stressed about something. She decided to not make too much more chatter and leave them be. She knew she was in-the-know, as it were, but just as she appreciated Alpha Pete’s not prying into her coven’s activities, she gave the pack the same courtesy. Anything to ensure her baby had a family.

After the hot bus boy’s mess was cleaned up, Xochitl double-checked that the meat for the lunch rush had been taken out to defrost. She also shooed two of the waitresses out from the back of the kitchen. When she came upon them, they were gabbing about how one’s loser uncle had won a sweepstakes of some kind and had lit off north to claim the prize, not even asking permission to borrow her car. The waitress would need help with transportation for the rest of the weeks’ shifts, the other whispered to Xochitl. Dealing with that scheduling mess, Xochitl went outside to the loading dock for a smoke.

Her nose crinkled when she stepped out on to the concrete platform. The dumpsters smelled atrocious. It was nearing the end of summer. Even with her smoker’s nose, it was unbearable.

Looking left and right, she signed. It wasn’t Xochitl’s habit to conjure in broad daylight. Goddess would not approve. But she was alone, and it was an incantation of temporary duration anyway, one of the simpler ones. Murmuring under her breath, Xochitl cast a sealing spell. In an instant, the smell of the dumpsters was gone, retreated into the steel box that housed it.

“Praise the Goddess,” Xochitl sighed. Oldest spell in the book, and one of the most useful. Any witch or warlock worth their salt could do it. She lit up her cigarette and savored the drag.

Keep the comments coming. I love the feedback, wolf brothers. Here is a brief list of characters, in order of wolf-size, to keep things straight:

Alpha Pete, giant hulk of man, red headed and bearded

• Carlos, Latino, jungle-gym of muscle, originally from Mexico

• Tom, stoic and kind, muscle daddy and gentle giant, from Wisconsin

• Larry, talkative gentlemen, informally mated to Tom, from Tennessee

• Mullins, Police Chief, cookie-duster moustache, dedicated to duty and to Alpha Pete, but starting the branch out, new wolf

• Yousef, Lebanese gym owner and entrepreneur, Seth’s crush and coming into his own, new wolf

• Seth; U.S. Park Ranger, strong and swift, intelligent frenemy of Alpha Pete

• Bill, hairy and muscular, sweet and playful, sleeve tattoos

• Xochitl, Carlos’s mom, a witch in her own right, and owner of the town diner

• Zach, rookie cop and mondjugen, more and more enamored with Chief Mullin.

• Alpha Schreider, leader of the neighboring wolf territory and host of the Wolf Council, U.S. Army Veteran

• Grant, built like a brickhouse and partial to coveralls, bearded handyman

• Alpha Haig, excentric and plotting wolf from the north, who has hacked his way to the list of all mondjugen, everywhere.

• Hakim, of Alpha Haig’s pack, African American, muscular, and a stunning friendly grin.

The woods always smelled so Luna-damned good, Carlos smiled inside. Rich earth, fresh greens, and the scat and scents of a thousand potential prey. All the bull shit drama of men and pack melted away and you could just wolf.

Carlos trotted through the trees, still wet from last night’s rain. He was focused on his patrol. The wolf had parked his new F-150 (he went with cherry red, if you must know) in Mountain Peaks’ back lot, left his clothes in the cab, and went wolf about fifty feet into the woods.

Whatever the forest threw at him, he never faltered or slowed. Carlos was a larger canine, but on top of strength, the wolf was proud of his agility and sure-footedness. There wasn’t a wolf in the world who could beat him in running through dense trees, Carlos felt. He puffed out his white downy chest a bit. It wasn’t proper form, to peacock like that out here in the wild. But who cared? A sniff or two confirmed he was alone.

Since the still-unknown intruders entered the pack’s turf early last month, poaching two cattle, the pack was practicing greater vigilance of their borders. This included patrols around the perimeter to check for strange scents and refreshing the pack’s own scent. Today was Carlos’s turn.

Patrolling up and down the ridges and dells took up a lot of time. But Carlos only wished they could be more vigilant. Of Alpha Haig they’d heard little, disturbing to the warrior in him. There was word of that weird sweepstakes up north, of a handful of men here and there heading up the state route for the mandatory in-person collection of winnings. Local media was skeptical, and the state government was angry about an unregulated lottery being advertised so openly. People started worrying when the men didn’t come back.

Oh sure, relations received text messages, emails, and a precious few Facetime calls. There was work “here.” People were nicer “here.” Inquiries on their exact location (GPS tracking, local law enforcement visits) proved futile. Still, in these days of strange cults on every corner, the human elections (and the fate of the free world, apparently) coming, and all the awful news of the outside world on the television (the “idiot box,” as Seth would call it), it didn’t make much of a big story.

But still, the pack fretted. Men sequestered, men on recordings of audio calls sounding so dreamy and vague. Mondjugen punch-drunk on wolf musk, Alpha Pete assessed, when they listened, and none could disagree. Herded into some pens God-knows-were, sheep for the slaughter of a different kind.

And Luna would come in only one week’s time. Carlos fretted.

It was Carlos’s fretting that was his downfault. One moment of his mind wandered and he missed the snare.

“Mother fucker!” the wolf yelped, finding himself whipped upwards, his well-turned left rear haunch now aloft. His wolf brain asserted itself. He tried to run. He flailed. He growled and snapped, a blur of fur. It was a futile gesture.

And then three men darted out of the woods. They had no scent. No scent! No scent!

Carlos was stuffed into a burlap bag, snapping all the way.

Yousef gave up the effort to speak and just grunted. He called out his pleasure again and again, performing for the Chief, truly feeling it. Praise Luna! but this was a hot rut! The cruisers’ back seat smelled of polished leather, sweaty clothing, and rip-roaring active ass sex. Yousef’s sweaty muscular back stuck and streaked against the back seat, making small burps and rips as he convulsed. Yousef’s feet were braced against the cruisers’ ceiling, his meaty legs splayed upwards. He turned up his pelvic bowl as high as he could go. Anything to accommodate the Chief’s thick cock.

The muscular Chief was squeezed in as best he could into the passenger cab of his Crown Victoria, devouring Yousef like a furious bee landing on a blossom. He still had his unbuttoned uniform shirt on, but the wolf was otherwise naked. His pants, gun belt, and boots were tossed in the right-side wheel well, along with Yousef’s Mountain Peaks Gym polo, shorts and sneaks. Gigantic above his packmate, Mullins thrust furiously, sweat pouring down all over, to join Yousef’s steaming, leaking slick on the car seat.

This one had to be a quickie. Mullins was still on duty, and Yousef had minimal staff inside Mountain Peaks (Bill was at the front desk, just past his second week on the clock). Mullins was parked behind the utility shed in Mountain Peaks back lot, one space away from the cherry red F-150. They had gone at it without ceremony. Both needed it, desperately.

Rutting continued to be a necessary outlet. Both wolves had survived their first month, and the ever-present, merciless stirrings. Into their second, the creatures’ wolfhood settled in, their musculature reaching its height, and their hormones and pheromones now in a new equilibrium. But that also meant wolfkind’s insatiable libido, home to stay. Jacking off was no longer in their repertoire. A hand on the cock was lifeless—wolves needed the real thing. And what a thing. Wolf sex meant scent, slick, licks, thrusts, and the satisfaction of seeding or being seeded. Guttural groans, jaws gnawing, and jousting for dominance, in wolf and human form. Sex was a necessary component of any pack. A pack that wasn’t fucking was likely killing one another instead. Bonds were formed, stress was exhausted, and Luna’s magic savored and shared.

Yousef was gloriously folded in half. He felt a gush of slick belch from his hole after a particularly savage thrust, and grinned sluttishly. Hell yeah. His handsome, bearded face jerked and twitched. Mullins’s thrusts continued to come heavy and fast. The Chief called out and called out again. The top leaned in, lips meeting lips. Mullins’s tongue continued to travel forward once his teeth halted at Yousef’s mouth. The tongue invaded deep. Mullins felt a thrill as Yousef’s masculine voice was reduced to unintelligible guttural gurgling.

Mullins gave a grunt of his own, right into this slut bottom’s mouth, as Yousef’s wet, pulsing hole clenched on the Chief’s cock. Mullins could feel Yousef’s heartbeat. The pup was there, so there.

Warm wetness sprayed out into the narrow space between the two rutting bucks. Turned on by the vinegary scent, Mullins disengaged from Yousef’s sighing mouth and really went to town, upping the tempo to a level that only a wolf in heat could sustain. Yousef clenched his teeth in concentration and met the thrusts. He pushed his slutty hips back, yelping, in passion and to egg this top on. His eyes were closed, and he kept an intense look, concentrating on pleasuring his top, now solely dedicated to being a vessel to receive this passion.

After one particularly strong thrust back from Yousef, Mullins fell back a bit and banged his head on the grill separating the passenger area from the drivers’. Mullins swore, rammed his elbow against the grill for better anchoring, and started driving his hips so rapidly, he couldn’t help but moan in accompaniment.

Yousef urged Mullins on, begging for it. He needed it inside him. This load. He needed it. Scent was everywhere. It was nasty, it was thick, it was heaven. Praise Luna!!

Yousef smelled the signs of impending orgasm as his top’s moans increased. The bottom wolf pulled the big lug back in for a deep fresh kiss. Mullins moaned out his muffled ecstasy into Yousef’s victorious smile in while their tongues dueled, and all was pulsing below.

They needed a moment of choreography for Mullins to pull out. A few breaths in unison, then one—two—three. Yousef grunted; his hole snapping shut. The Lebanese wolf collapsed to his side on the cruiser’s back seat, and just breathed in and out for a moment. Mullins had an incredibly fat head.

The entire cab stank of rank wolf sex. A savage wet fart followed from the prone pup. Yousef breathed out, closed his eyes, and savored it. Praise Allah, Praise Luna, it was wonderful to be alive.

A satisfied grin on his face, Mullins opened the back cab door. The model was only capable of being opened from the outside, but Mullins had used a part of his police belt to keep the door from completely closing. Stepping out into the secluded area of the parking lot, the barely clothed Mullins stretched and took one the two towels he’d left on the top of the trunk to dry off.

Yousef followed him as soon as he recomposed his thoughts. That had been a heavy fuck. The two grinned like sheepish fools as they dried themselves off.

“Got a second more to share a cig?” Yousef asked as he stepped back into his athletic shorts while Mullins glanced at his watch. The Chief nodded and took a second to admire his fellow wolf a second longer before his nudity was covered up. The pup was exquisitely beautiful—well-defined, flexible, and large. The Greeks themselves would have trouble sculpting that. Luna had blessed him.

Not that Mullins had any reason to curse Her either. He was a larger wolf, building in the chest, not nearly as well-defined, but without question strong and manly all over. Mullins also had a bit of a wider waist, in part to accommodate his incredibly well-shaped powerful rear. In their second month on this Earth as wolves, praise Luna, both had overcome Bill and Seth in size. Mullins might yet still overcome Larry.

Yousef fetched two old milk crates from the utility shed and an empty coke can for the ash. Mullins provided the lighter and Yousef fetched a pack from his own vehicle. The two finished dressing and sat a moment in the relative privacy between the airing-out cruiser and the F-150. Birdsong and the first scent of fall in the breeze surrounded them.

Sexual bliss is many things, among them fleeting. The cares and concerns of the real world invaded. Mullins’s cookie duster twitched in worry, and he looked at his wristwatch.

“Won’t be much different than when you checked 30 seconds ago,” Yousef noted. He took a drag. Yousef had never been a dedicated smoker like the rest of his human family, but it was a casual habit he held on to. Smoking was a completely different experience as a wolf, he found—much more nuance in the scent, and he was getting pretty good at wielding his more-powerful wolf lungs to blow smoke rings.

“He should have radioed in by now, is all,” Mullins kept his cigarette in his mouth as he fiddled with his gun belt, unconsciously inventorying the handcuffs, nightstick, knife, radio, ammo, and flashlight.

“He will,” Yousef took another puff, really savoring the post-coital wash of feeling.

They were silent a minute more. Smoke rings drifted upwards towards the pines.

“It’s not like him,” Mullins finally said, looking down.

“He’ll… he’ll radio in, once he’s back on duty,” Yousef offered, feeling less sure of himself.

They chatted a bit more, the Lebanese wolf playing Scheherazade, trying to distract his packmate. Yousef was winning Mullins over to restarting a fitness routine, and Mullins offered advice on the criteria Yousef needed in a security alarm system for the gym.

The back door of Mountain Peaks opened as a cleaning crew member, a hot young Latino number, came out with some bags of trash. Male body odor wafted out with him from the door. Both Mullins and Yousef stopped, mid-conversation, and took a sniff. They both smiled. Man—body odor, musk, sweat... it was heavenly. Like a human walking past an ice cream shop.

Yousef and the Latino chatted in Spanish a bit about the set hours for when the showers could be mopped, how many rounds for trash removal were provided for in the contract, and so on. Mullins was left with his thoughts. But he didn’t ignore just how sexy this young janitor was.

The cleaning crew member sauntered back inside. Mullins dropped his cigarette on the asphalt and stamped it out.

“Is he...?” Mullins asked, trying to distract himself.

“No,” Seth replied. Inquiries had been made.

The silence continued, with only the murmurs of the starlings above them.

“Spit it out.” Yousef could tell something was bothering the Chief.

“Mary… Mary filed yesterday.” Mullins gruff exterior barely held. “I… I went down… I went to the courthouse just before my shift so she wouldn’t need to pay for the summons.”

“Shit…” Yousef hacked out his drag. After a few seconds more of coughing, Yousef recovered enough to give his condolences. He was secretly thankful he’d had no attachments before going wolf. Mullins and Yousef were both so far into their adventure, they could not no longer think of themselves as human, or even as former humans. They knew it intellectually, of course, but in their souls and in their flesh, they were wolf. Sensations of being human were now a hazy memory, with all the primate senses and instincts and reflexes, no more real to them than a description in a textbook.

But it still hurt at times.

Yousef struggled to find the words. “Don’t…” he meant to say, ‘don’t cry,’ but thought better of it. “Don’t give up on her,” Yousef finished. He scooted the milk crate over and gave Mullins a hug as he sat.

Mullins looked up from his sulk, his eyes wet.

Yousef kissed Mullins’s forehead. “It’s just a human piece of paper, brother,” Yousef said. Wolves had no care, technically, for human writings, contracts and licenses and whatnot, when it came down to it. “Be the best husband, the best dad you can be. Yeah, we changed, but it’s just different. Not bad, just different.”

“I gotta give up on this,” Mullins sniffed. “I can’t hang on to something that won’t work. Where she pulls away from me. Like I’m a freak,” his voice broke.

“You’re not a freak.” There was silence in return. “I didn’t give up on Allah,” Yousef offered then, smiling sadly.

Mullins gave him a look. It was unorthodox indeed for a wolf to carry on with a human faith, having received Luna’s grace. In a stricter pack, Yousef would be punished or cast out for fear of welcoming Her wrath.

“Allah understands,” Yousef continued, shrugging his muscley shoulders. “Mary could too.”

“What, tell her?” Mullins scoffed.

“Maybe,” Yousef trailed off. His smartphone beeped then, alerting the end of his self-timed break. The two wolves got up from their milk crates and gave each other a parting hug. Yousef offered his support and a shoulder to cry on if it came to it, for whatever Mullins decided to do. “Go take a spin and look for Carlos,” Yousef said over his shoulder as he headed over to the back door of Mountain Peaks. “I know you want to. The drive’ll do you good.”

Yousef entered the back storage area and passed through an empty mirrored dance studio. He admired his giant build in his Mountain Peaks polo in the floor-to-ceiling walls. Amazing, he grinned with self-satisfaction. The wolf headed into the main floor, along the main aisle between cardio and machines.

The wolf greeted his pack member at the reception desk. Bill was enjoying the job; lots of people and conversation, and he got a free membership himself.

“How’s Mullins?” he asked playfully, chuckling.

“Hot and horny,” Yousef reported, declining to share the news of the Chief’s divorce.

“Save me some next time,” Bill had a subtle swat at Yousef’s rear, concealed from the gym’s eye behind the high reception desk.

“I will,” Yousef reached over a clutched one of Bill’s glutes through his own athletic shorts. Bill sucked in air, surprised. He smiled at Yousef. Pup was getting assertive, Bill noticed. Nice. Very nice.

Yousef had some business tasks to get though before his next client, so he headed into the back office. The physical in-box on his desk was daunting. Utilities, selecting an alarm service, all of the usual correspondence. Local little league hitting him up again to be a sponsor. Chamber of Commerce flier about this or that ordinance and how it would destroy—destroy!!—local businesses. Planet Fitness had contacted him about a potential franchise deal. He didn’t mind purple that much, but it would bring in the vacation crowd from the state park. He did fancy himself a lunk though…

Yousef had smelt Mullins’s scent dissipate, and the puff of exhaust from the cruiser, so he assumed the wolf had departed. So he was very surprised to smell Mullins coming in through the front.

What? Yousef thought as he got up from his desk, sniffing the whole way. It was Mullins. It had to be. A pungent Mullins. The wolf headed around the corner and came up to the front desk.

“You forget something, bud?” he said to the scent. But then his eyes bugged out.

“No… uh, here for my training session,” Zach said, confused, as he signed in with Bill on the clipboard.

“I…” Yousef tried to respond, his brain telling him this was Mullins due to the scent, but his eyes seeing, plain as day it was his client, Zach. “I… never mind.”

“Ready to train?” Zach raised his arm to give a high-five. Another wave of Mullins’s scent wafted at Yousef, who took it all in. Bill was similar confused. He raised his sleeved arm in response and Zach got his high five. And both wolves realized…

They had a mondjugen on their hands.

“Good morning, everyone! I’m so excited to have you all here today for our nature walk. My name is Ranger Seth, and I get the privilege of working here at the national park and getting to say hello to all you fine people.”

Seth nodded to himself and continued his speech. “Now… (Snifff…), uh… the National Park System is America’s best idea. (Sniff…) Shit… uh… sorry, yeah—Today, we’re going to explore the amazing world of one of our most fascinating birds—the loon! Loons are incredible creatures known for their eerie, haunting calls that echo across our lakes here at the park.”

(Sniff…) Seth sighed. The beast was closing in on him. Too many humans around, so scenter had to be on two feet, at least, when approaching. “Uh… They’re expert divers, able to plunge deep underwater to catch fish, and their striking black-and-white feathers make them stand out.”

“(Sniff…) As we walk (sniff…) uh, keep your eyes peeled for these beautiful birds, and listen closely—you might just hear their call! (sniff…) Let’s head out and see what we can discover together!”

“We paid extra for this tour,” one of the fathers in the group, the dumpy one, complained. “Are you focused on this or what?”

“It’s up that path. Whatever!” Seth retorted, annoyed. Luna-damned humans. Always so needy. Then Seth cursed himself. He hated wolves and he hated people. Maybe he needed to go find a were-loon and join their team.

“It’s been a great tour so far, I say,” Alpha Pete said, now at the back of the group. “Let’s all go up that path.”

The humans, like the mindless staggering cows they were, toddled up the asphalt path to the man-made lake where a few stressed-out loons bobbed in the greenish waters. It was the thrill of their lives. Seth and Alpha Pete held back.

“Is true that loons are always loyal to their flock?” Alpha Pete asked, his red beard freshly trimmed, and his muscles freshly pumped.

“Loons don’t flock,” Seth responded, seething in his whisper. For good measure, his own muscles straining against his ranger uniform. He was on the largest size now, with Bill tailoring the waist to bring it in.

“Oh… so… is it true that a loon is always loyal to its mate?”

“No, they eat them alive.”

“I know that’s not right, smartass ferret,” Alpha Pete spat.

“Look Jackass, no one is listening to us. What do you want?” Their unofficial truce (no visits when Seth was on duty, in uniform, and the pack could have the run of the park) was broken.

“The pack needs your help, McBride,” Alpha Pete laid it all out on the table. A literal one. They’d stopped at a picnic table while the crowd of humans oohed and aahed at the wretched, smelly duck soup lake. Alpha tossed down a pile of papers.

Seth pulled them up, lacking his glasses but managing. “Media reports…” he murmured. “Men heading up north to get their sweepstakes winnings. Not coming back.”

“Seth, the humans are starting to become suspicious. Press trying to get access to the mondjugen, stories all over the place about families trying to seek out their fathers, uncles, brothers. And you and I know full well what will happen when Luna comes.” One week hence.

“Yeah,” Seth said, his voice softening.

“So, I need you.”

“To do what exactly? Demonstrate owl calls and give loon tours?”

Alpha Pete looked wearingly at Seth. “If you cannot fight them there, then fight them here.”

“Flashbacks to W,” Seth mused.

Alpha Pete growled a serious growl, one where even a smartass ferret knew to pipe down.

“We’d be fools to go north ourselves and stop them, McBride. Too far from home, and a rapid pack of unknown size to contend with. Nothing doing. And none of the other Alphas seem willing to go it alone either.” Alpha Pete looked out at the water. Away from the shore, the waves eased and bobbed. The opposite shore was blanketed with unbroken forest to the peaks of the distant mountains. “So, we lure them here.”

“Here…” Seth said, confused.

Alpha Pete craned his eyes around, at the trees and hills surrounding them.

“Not in my park!” Seth got protective. “And what the fuck would we do with them if they decide to come here?” Seth continued his rant. “And why the fuck would any wolf come here, in an enemy pack territory when they are herding mondjugen someplace else?” He indicted at the group of humans, barely able to manage stairs without gasping. “That’s what Alpha Haig will be dealing with. How’s he going to agree to move a crowd of virgin mondjugen down here.”

“I’m not helping him. I’m not luring him. But you could,” Alpha Pete explained.

It wasn’t exactly a secret among were-folk that Seth was a discontented wolf. Alas, not every creature of the night accepted Luna’s blessing with unmitigated joy, though most eventually came around. Seth’s attitude was… known to others beyond their borders.

“Call Alpha Haig,” Alpha Pete pulled out his phone and forwarded the contact sheet to Seth’s WhatsApp. “Tell him you’re eager to screw me over. Lay it on thick. I’m a jerk, you just want to be left alone with your loons, yada yada. Offer him the use of the park for his jamboree. Say it’ll be safer here for inexperienced wolves to cut their teeth. A real forest, real wolf territory. Plus plenty of free parking,” Alpha Pete added.

“Only with an annual pass,” Seth inserted, grouchily. But he couldn’t help a side grin. “Good idea, Alpha.”

“Only you can prevent forest fires,” Alpha Pete flashed back.

Seth gave a nod. He would do it. Seth started to move around Alpha Pete to return to the tour group when his Alpha stopped him.

“Hey, you’ve forgotten something,” Alpha Pete snapped his fingers in Seth’s face.

“No, I don’t—”

“You will do it,” Alpha Pete’s voice fell to a whisper and three registers down at the same time. It sent a quake through Seth’s spinal cord.

Seth looked down sadly, resigned, and nodded. “Behind the visitors center,” he said. “It’s just down the hill.”

The center smelled of rancid human urine, soda residue, and a hundred babies’ soiled diapers in the trash barrel. Seth would need to yell at the trash removal contractor again. This was ridiculous.

But no matter now. Seth got down on his knees and opened wide. He moaned in revelation as his Alpha’s cock surfed across his tongue to the end of his gullet.

Any wolf is at the beck and call of his Alpha. An Alpha can command a sign of loyalty for any reason, or no reason. This was one of those times. Showing fealty could include taking an Alpha’s urine or beckoning out his sperm. Seth hadn’t wanted to get his ranger uniform soiled, so a blow job it was.

“Nice,” Alpha Pete breathed, leaning against the back wall of the bathroom structure. The two were sheltered by the hemlocks planted at the rear of the building, and the clinkering fan above them, drawing air out from the men’s room, provided the aural cover they needed.

Seth breathed deeply as he brought the truly thick wolf cock in and out of his mouth. Even he would admit there were few things more enjoyable. Sort of like dreading the initial shock of a lake’s cold before diving in for the refreshing swim. Loath to admit it, Seth loved giving his Alpha head. Ranger McBride set to bobbing his head in and out. The scent of Alpha’s Pete’s pubes sent him into a frenzy, and he found himself becoming truly feral, the wolf side bursting out.

Alpha Pete moaned. His hands unthinkingly flew to clutch Seth’s hair. The Alpha threw back his chin in a simple, convulsive sensation. Seth squealed in unedited pleasure as he feasted on his Alpha’s pint. He downed it all, a true feat.

Both of them needed to lie down in the grass afterwards. It was that good. Coming down from his high, Seth’s usual self came back to the surface.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he said, whipping cum from his mouth, and sucking on a finger.

Alpha Pete leveraged himself up on one elbow and looked down at his pack subject. “Seth, we cannot keep having these arguments.”

“So, send me away,” Seth said in reply, dejected.

“And you’ll be found and passed around by another pack, and then another, and then another. Believe it or not, I do care about you, boy,” Alpha Pete said. “Luna’s blessed you, whether you welcome or not. You’re family.”

“I know…” Seth started, but then fell silent. “I…” he could not get the words out. He would not let go of his humanity, and yet could not return to it. “I…”

Alpha Pete held his packmember as he cried it out.

Luna’s light is amazing, beautiful, bewitching. Sweet solace and snare. It is not for a wolf to question or doubt Luna in her blessings, no more than a man can question or doubt the turning of the tide, nor the rising of the Sun, nor Luna’s cycles.

Alpha Pete was no tyrant. He patted Seth’s back reassuringly. Someday soon, he prayed, Seth would find peace with Luna.

Alpha Pete reached out across the space between them, his hand trembling slightly as it found Seth’s, clutched against the packmember’s face. The touch was electric, sending a jolt of heat through the Alpha’s subject’s body, making his breath hitch. Seth sniffed, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned his own hand over, palm up, and clasped Alpha Pete’s fingers in his, holding on tightly as if he were anchoring himself to something solid.

But time was a wasting. Sign of loyalty received, and scenting achieved, Alpha Pete nodded his thanks, gave a last reassuring pat on the back to his pack member, and headed across the mowed lawn back to his Wrangler in the visitors’ parking. Seth was left to wipe his final tears and head back to shepherd the huddled mass of humans oohing and aahing at an invasive species of duck.

Wouldn’t last two minutes off the pathed trails, Seth looked at the lot of them resentfully. He pulled out his phone and started texting. May as well get it over with.

Alpha Pete jumped into his Wrangler, the vehicle sagging from his weight. The muscle giant flipped on his aviators. He needed to get over to Larry and Tom’s. Time to share the plan. Alpha Pete looked into his rear-view as he prepared to pull out and smiled at his reflection with satisfaction. Things were looking up.

The leashes and harnesses the trespassing pack had used on Carlos were top notch. Carlos gave them that. Fought like the devil, he did, to get loose. Both in human and in wolf form. But it was useless. He was stuck.

Carlos reverted to wolf form. If he needed to fight, this would increase his odds of survival. Plus, if he was to die, he wanted to dance with Luna on all fours.

The wolf smelt the Alpha before he approached. Alphas had a signature scent, something any wolf would know. They were just… more, somehow.

The camp, if you would call it that, was full of scent. Musky, young wolf. And especially pine. So much pine… So strange since he could not smell them until he was in the thick of the group. There were six wolves in the surrounding trees. Carlos could place none of them. Carlos had attended enough Alpha Councils and had enough chance encounters with other wolves (Disney World, for instance—long a neutral zone). So being captured by complete strangers made him nervous.

As the Alpha approached, also on all fours, Carlos tried to straighten up as best he could. No matter his fate, he would be presented as a gentleman.

“You’re bigger the most,” the Alpha said as he came through the thicket. He smelled of Alpha, and of sappy pine (praise Luna, so much pine…), and of the other wolves. Hmmmm, not a lot to go on, Carlos thought rapidly. Pine, Carlos pondered, if there was only, then they were north of his pack’s territory, at least on the north side of the next ridge.

“Greetings, Alpha,” Carlos didn’t take the bait for conversation. “To whom am I speaking, Alpha?”

“So formal,” the Alpha mocked, circling.

“Release me, Alpha,” Carlos replied. No games today.

The Alpha’s reply was a stream of urine across Carlos’s right flank. Carlos blanched at the marking. How dare he?!?!?

“Alpha Pete will have something to say about that,” Carlos warned.

“Alpha Pete should worry about many things,” the Alpha said back. He circled again.

“I am Alpha Pete’s pack,” Carlos said, trying to sound strong. But he knew that was no longer completely under his control.

“Not for long, pup,” the Alpha said, coming up to the restrained wolf and nuzzling his cheeks on Carlos’s neck and shoulders. Carlos rolled his eyes. It was intoxicating. He tried to take umbrage at being called a pup, but the wolf’s train of thought faltered, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the scent and sight before him. “You’re in my forest now.”

The Alpha was hot, Carlos’s mind wandered as the scent of this great wolf overtook him… strangely hot… and pine…

“I’m in need of good strong wolves to help with my plans,” the Alpha said. “You’ll be filled in once you’re fully in our pack.” Again, the Alpha scented the wolf with his cheeks and urine.

“¡Qué lindo!” Carlos whispered, a loss for words otherwise. The scent was wonderful. He could hardly stand, the leashes and harnesses now propping him up as much as he was restrained. Intoxicating. Beyond the Alpha wolf and through a gap in the thicket, Carlos spotted a stand of pine trees. Two lines of pine trees, with an aisle down the middle. Two completely straight lines of pine trees. Two completely straight lines of short pine trees. Mother fucker…

“Good pup,” the Alpha nodded, not noticing Carlos’s observation. He gave a quick yip, and two other wolves dashed into the thicket where Carlos was being held. “Untie him and scent him,” the Alpha directed. “Until he’s one of us.”

“Wait…” Carlos gave a feeble protest.

The Alpha ignored him. “He’ll be useful, but first we need to take the edge off. Plus,” the Alpha arched an approving eyebrow, “it would be a shame to let such a hot buck go to waste.” The other two wolves laughed.

Carlos was dreamy and punch-drunk. The scent was so good and so intoxicating. Far from the reaffirming scent of his own Alpha and far from his familiar woods, Carlos was ripe for the picking. Gulping audibly, Carlos found his voice, breaking the silence that enveloped them. “Alpha what?” he struggled, his words tinged with a mix of reverence and wariness.

All three of the wolves ignored him. Carlos was unleashed and untied. “Man,” the Alpha barked. “Now. It’s my forest.”

“Christmas tree farm, you mean,” Carlos spat back.

“Who told you!” the Alpha was at his neck in a second, snapping at the captive wolf.

Fucker smelled like one of those nauseating pine-scented cardboard things you hung from the rear-view. They all did. Praise Luna, what losers, Carlos thought. But even now, he struggled to overcome the intoxicating scent of Alpha.

“Man! Now!” the Alpha barked, composing himself.

Carlos shuddered and followed orders. His fur coat shed, revealing olive human muscles, and his snout withered, the menacing teeth reformed into a dynamite human smile. All three of the wolves also transformed into men. The third wolf, revealed to be an African American gentleman with amazing muscles, a curly forest across his chest, and a gorgeous human smile, whistled at the hung muscular jungle gym of a Latino they had before them. “Nice, bro.” Carlos, even in his stupor, nodded his thanks. “Hakim,” the black wolf introduced himself quickly.

But no time to linger. The Alpha, now a white lumberjack of a man, gloriously nude and incredibly hung, gave more orders. “The ottoman,” he barked roughly, and a collection of hands half pushed, half-lifted Carlos onto the proffered piece of furniture, somehow available far out here on the edges of the Christmas tree farm. More men now surrounded the woozy Carlos, all muscular, all nude, all family. A blindfold was produced, and night came early to Carlo. Now-unseen hands from above grabbed his wrists, and his ankles received the same treatment. Hands pulled at every limb. The strong Carlos was splayed out, spread eagle, gasping, his cock swinging back and forth like a metronome as he was centered on the ottoman.

Carlos focused on breathing, sniffing, looking for more clues, more information, and smelt another wolf, one who had a familiar scent, alas one he could not place—Carlos’s thoughts were interrupted as another unseen wolf went down on him, practically pouncing on the cock. Carlos signed and moaned as he experienced the slobbering and swallowing of a masterful blow job. Carlos’s cock pulsed and swayed. He thrashed his neck and head about. He opened and clenched his buttocks, giving himself a little bit of ability to maneuver even as he jerked and moaned and swore. This was all so good.

The arms and legs continued to be pulled outwards, almost like a medieval rack. Then, another faceless wolf squatted down right in front of Carlos’s prone head, and squeezed his muscle thighs on either side of the Latino wolf’s cranium. The wolf grunted in satisfaction as Carlos’s vision was obscured by the blindfold and his sense of smell was blocked completely by the thighs as they spilled over Carlos’s face, filling him solely with musk and pube and sweat. And Carlos was left restrained, hard, swallowed, grunting, and forced to take only, completely, exclusively rival pack scent as his cock was drained, again and again.

“Keep him there until he cracks,” Carlos could barely hear the Alpha, as his ears were muffled by the muscular thighs of his soon-to-be packbrother. “I want him nice and exhausted and compliant when I speak to him next.”

Carlos’s muffled grunts of orgasm gave Alpha a laugh. The next wolf was now taking his turn as they set to drain this wolf dry of his testosterone, and soon fill him up with their own. The wolf around Carlo’s head clenched his thighs more tightly, spittle spewing up from in between. The cradle of the thighs deepened, the scents breaths mingling, musk and sweat and pubes, and pine, so much pine. Bodies pressing closer together, until there was no space left between them. A chorus of howls erupted.

“Yes, Alpha Haig,” some wolf, someplace said.

Zach wailed out in pleasure, his bare feet almost slipping on the shower floor. He had his legs splayed out, the better to receive Yousef’s searing hot knot.

All of the showerheads were running. It steamed the place up, and provided a little bit of cover from the caterwauling noise the two rutters were making. Bill also turned Mountain Peaks’ stereo up on the way past the front desk, just to make sure. Luckily, the ‘do not enter’ signs were still up from when the custodial crew had mopped the showers earlier today.

“Praise Luna, you’re nasty. You’re nasty!” Yousef yelled and gave Zach’s rear a savage spank. He plowed in. Zach bellowed an unedited holler, and almost collapsed. The mondjugen dropped down, now on all fours. The water coursed down his back and chest, through his buzz cut, and across his sputtering, gasping face.

It had started so innocently. Yousef and Bill purposefully ignored their noses and checked Zach to his personal training session. The kid’s nostrils were already twitching. Then trainer and student had started working on seated shoulder press. Zach was seated, and Yousef behind him, acting as a spotter with his hands right below Zach’s pumping elbows. On the first rep, with Yousef’s breath on Zach’s neck and Yousef’s pits for the first time exposed as his hands raised to follow Zach’s rep… Zach gasped, dropped the thudding weights, and began breathing heavily, his cock almost out of his athletic shorts that very minute.

Yousef was a new wolf, but he was no dummy. Zach was scented and ensnared. Yousef led the poor mondjugen into one of the vacant studios, the one where he wanted to install spinning equipment, if he only could get the stupid bank to process the loan paperwork. Bill turned off the lights and locked the door, heading back to the front desk with a whistle, acting natural.

Inside, the mondjugen was panting, hyperventilating almost. When Yousef tried calm him down, Zach only leaned in, trying to lick at his coach.

“I…” Zach panted. “I’m so… I don’t know… what the fuck?” The student aggressively leaned in to lick and chew at Yousef’s face, mumbling desperately.

The athletic muscle mountain of a wolf didn’t want to turn Mullins in to the pack. He’d seen how Seth and Alpha Pete were on the outs. He also didn’t want to confront Mullins. The Chief would only deny it, or worse, he’d get angry, defensive. And there was nothing to console Zach now but…

So, Yousef did the only thing he felt he could do for this poor keening mondjugen. He scented him. At least then Mullins would know that he knew. Or something.

Truly, it was an act of mercy. Zach was a panting, sniveling, stammering, needy mess, not thinking straight or caring about the implications of begging for sexual attention from a man. He was horny, hot, and bothered, and the sensations only got worse when he was near Yousef. That’s as far as his mind would take him. Jerking off didn’t enter the mondjugen’s mind as a possibility. He needed flesh—flesh to lick, flesh to sniff, flesh to mash his face into. And as Yousef called Bill back, and as they maneuvered the mondjugen into the changing room and then the open showers, as all the clothes were cast off, as the steam rose and the musk was mixed with heat, Zach found himself in familiar motions he had never performed before: giving head, bending over, taking cock, as familiar as a birds’ first migration or a pup’s first suckle.

At Yousef’s bidding, Zach lifted up one leg onto the bench at the center of the open shower area. His ass was splayed out completely, two bulbus buns that led only to happiness. Yousef really went to town now, jackhammering in and out. He didn’t give much thought to Mullins’s feelings. In for a penny, in for a pound. Jealousy was not a wolf emotion; a pack was protective to the death of their own, but inside its confines, it was share and share alike. Yousef had been schooled that what Seth had sought to do was wrong. So Yousef was doing Mullins a favor. Yeah, that was it.

Zach grunted, a deep manly desperate sound, as he was seeded for the first time. Dots of yellow light, coming from behind him someplace, reflected and bounced off the room’s thousand white tiles. His human mind was in a panic as his destiny, something humanity could not understand, took hold. The panic could not overcome his intense desire to serve this, whatever this was. The rookie cop, stripped his dignity and his useless human hangups about straightness, was so ready. Luna was calling him home. He came a second time, loudly, very loudly.

Out at the front desk, Bill chuckled and turned the page of his New Yorker.

“Welcome to my pack, wolf,” Alpha Haig said, as Carlos was led on all fours forward through a stand of young Christmas trees, a year or two away from their harvest time.

Carlos, leashed around the neck and collared around the neck, gave the customary bow. In between each of the trees was a wolf, at attention. (Sticklers for ceremony, Carlos noted. And they’re all newbies, he recalled from Alpha Pete’s stories of Alpha Haig recruiting hackers). Good intel for later.

But still, for the immediate moment, it was done. Carlos’s nose told him he was outside of Alpha Pete’s borders. He was in enemy territory without his pack. He’d been cornered and been enjoyed by every wolf in this pack (his ass still buzzed in delightful sensation). Scented in urine, in cum, and in spit (he was still sopping wet from the pack’s slobber). Finders keepers, as it were. He was theirs. Any thought of leaving, and the scent asserted itself. This was what was familiar. This was what his wolf brain sought out now. Fair’s fair.

Consent? Consent, you say? Feelings and personal preferences were irrelevant to wolf folk. A wolf on an Alpha’s territory without an invitation, nor an Alpha accompanying him, carrying a foreign scent, carrying a foreign pack’s name… well, that would just not do. This was why territory was guarded so carefully, and how unresolvable pack disputes could be fixed so easily without death or dismemberment: “One pack’s pariah is another’s pal, Praise Luna,” as the old saying went. Carlos was theirs, by right. It was no tragedy to the were. It just was.

“Yes, Alpha,” Carlos bowed. He would return to his Alpha Pete, and to his mamí. Someday. But for the moment, he was Alpha Haig’s.

Somewhere, somehow, a cell phone beeped. All ignored it for a moment.

It beeped again.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, answer it,” Alpha Haig barked, his eyes yellow in anger, his downy neck fur puffing out. “Shitheads,” he muttered. “Now then, welcome friend Carlos, to our pack. We have much to—”

“Alpha, you’re gonna want to answer this one,” Hakim, off to the left said, his muzzle illuminated by a smartphone on the ground.

Keep the comments coming. I love the feedback, wolf brothers. Here is a brief list of characters, in order of wolf-size, to keep things straight:

• Alpha Pete, giant hulk of a wolfman, red-headed and bearded

• Carlos, of Alpha Pete’s pack, Latino, jungle-gym of muscle, likes a tightly-run pack

• Tom, of Alpha Pete’s pack, stoic and kind, muscle daddy and gentle giant, from Wisconsin

• Larry, of Alpha Pete’s pack, talkative gentlemen, informally mated to Tom, from Tennessee

• Mullins, of Alpha Pete’s pack, Police Chief, cookie-duster moustache, newly divorced after his wolfhood, dedicated to duty and to Alpha Pete, but starting the branch out, new wolf

• Yousef, of Alpha Pete’s pack, Lebanese gym owner and entrepreneur, Seth’s crush and coming into his own, new wolf

• Seth, of Alpha Pete’s pack, U.S. Park Ranger, strong and swift, intelligent frenemy of Alpha Pete

• Bill, of Alpha Pete’s pack, hairy and muscular, sweet and playful, sleeve tattoos

• Xochitl, Carlos’s mom, a witch in her own right, and owner of the town diner

• Zach, rookie cop and mondjugen, more and more enamored with Chief Mullin.

• Alpha Schreider, leader of the neighboring wolf territory and host of the Alpha Council, U.S. Army Veteran

• Grant, of Alpha Schreider’s pack, built like a brickhouse and partial to coveralls, bearded handyman

• Alpha Haig, excentric and plotting wolf from the north, a large lumber jack of a wolf who has hacked his way to the list of all mondjugen, everywhere.

• Hakim, of Alpha Haig’s pack, African American, muscular, former MIT grad student and former warlock trainee, mated to Carlos, with a stunning friendly grin.

“You’ll bunk down here with me,” Alpha Haig’s pack member Hakim said, indicating the room at the end of the modular trailer. The African American wolf stud led Carlos through the door, both needing to stoop due to their enhanced size. There were some bunched up blankets and two open sleeping bags, but no other furniture or decorations. The room smelled of bedding, of knotty pine, paneling, and Hakim’s BO.

“Thanks,” Carlos curled his nose at the space. He liked a tightly run ship, and this pack looked sloppy. Probably because they were all so new. “Could use an airing out,” he commented, taking a sniff. And then another sniff. Actually…

“Yeah,” Hakim said, his nostrils also flaring. In the close quarters of the modular unit, the two were getting their first focused smell of one another. That BO…

“Wow,” Carlos said, intrigued. He took in a deep pull, filling up his chest.

“Wow…” Hakim whispered back. Something inside him, above him, told the wolf to reach out. His chocolate-skinned hand moved up. As if on cue, Carlos’ olive met it, the fingers running over one another like tree boughs in the stiff wind. They both crooned. Oh wow…

Hakim clicked off the light. Carlos shut the door. They took a step towards one another, sharing mystified smiles.

That evening, just as it grew completely dark, Seth pressed the video call button on his WhatsApp. The wolf crossed his fingers as it rang.

“Here we go,” Larry said to his right at the table, putting a sticker label on a clear glass jug filled with red wine, wrote something on the label with a Sharpie, and set it on the floor next to his packmate.

“Yep,” Seth nodded, noting the location of the jug. Larry got out of the frame.

“Hello?” a gruff voice answered. The video opened to reveal Alpha Haig, in what looked like a modular unit office of sorts. Bare, cheap-looking walls, and a narrow air-vent window off to the left. The giant lumberjack of an Alpha was in human form and looked very satisfied with himself.

“This Alpha Haig?” Seth asked, playing dumb. In theory, he was not supposed to know what this Alpha looked like (Alpha Pete had shared the group photos from this Alpha Council, which were on a locked Instagram account).

“Depends. Who’s asking.” Alpha Haig didn’t phrase it as a question.

“Akela sends his regards,” Seth replied. He resisted rolling his eyes. His pack brothers did it for him; Alpha Pete, Larry, Mullins, sitting around the table, out of sight of the camera. Tom and Yousef were performing double-duty perimeter patrol, and Bill was standing watch on the porch.

“Nice! It is you,” Alpha Haig sighed, giving a smile. Seth resisted rolling his eyes again. It was the most obvious wolf reference for a password. His Team-Jacob auntie in Detroit could have guessed it. Whatever. They were in.

“Yes, it is,” Seth answered. He took his time. This self-important shithead Alpha would expect to lead the conversation.

Seth sat at the round card table, a sturdy metal one with a green topper. The rest of the pack was in folding chairs around the other side. The room smelled of deli sandwich wrappers, playing cards, and the graphite in Alpha Pete’s pencil.

Alpha Pete used it to scribble on his notebook: [Offer him park]. Alpha Pete showed it to Seth.

Seth did not react. He wrote something down on his own pad. [I know, Jackass], he casually slipped the page over to his Lord Alpha.

“So, I hear you’re a little disgruntled,” Alpha Haig said.

“Let’s just say I know a winning team when I smell one,” Seth answered, buttering the Alpha up.

“Indeed,” Alpha Haig said. “It’s refreshing to have someone appreciate the gift I’m giving to our kind.”

“I know,” Seth said. “It’s so smart and… good.” He resisted wincing. It sounded forced.

“Indeed, it is,” Alpha Haig breezed right by the awkwardness.

“So, you’re going through with it?” Seth asked, trying to solicit Alpha Haig’s plans. They had a good idea from the Alpha Council, but still.

“By “it,” I assume you mean my grand plans for the mondjugen, and for the betterment of wolfkind,” Alpha Haig said. “That’s top secret.”

“I’d like to help,” Seth replied, resisting clenching his teeth. Self-important prick told every Alpha in the region plus their seconds. Top-secret my tail.

“This pleases me, wolf. What of your Alpha?” Alpa Haig said.

“He’s not worthy of my allegiance,” Seth answered. Alpha Pete drew a frowny face on his pad of paper and held it up in Seth’s line of sight. Mullins stifled a laugh, his cookie duster stache wiggling. Larry managed to keep a straight face, kicked Mullins in the shin, and silently urged Seth to continue.

“I have a sense of your top-secret plan,” Seth said. “Recruit the mondjugen under false pretenses, convert them all at once, and then take over the world.”

“Not the world,” Alpha Haig’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not a cartoon villain.”

Seth nodded. Go on, he thought.

“Guide the mondjugen to their birthright,” Alpha Haig said, reverently. “Reject all the lies about mondjugen finding their own way to Luna. It’s such self-limiting bullshit, shoveled upon us by controlling Alphas who each want to hold on their own pathetic little piece of lawn at any cost. Leaving all of wolfkind to scramble for scraps, to scurry away from men like roaches. Well, it’s too great a cost,” the Alpha paused for dramatic effect. “We are the superior beings,” Alpha Haig beat his chest for emphasis.” +thwack!+ “We are the stronger beasts.” +thwack+ “We should be ruling this fucking planet, not them.” +thwack+

Okay… Seth thought. Sure. No cartoon villain here.

“And we need to add more to our numbers, to assert our birthright. As masters of this planet under Luna’s light.”

“I want to help.”

“How, wolf?” Alpha Haig’s eyes narrowed.

“My park. My national park.”

“Yes, my sources tell me you’re a ranger.”

“Yes, you must have very good sources,” Seth said. Seth was actually wearing his ranger uniform presently, but whatever. Sure, sure, play the game. It pained him to play dumb. But it was necessary. “I know you’re in temporary quarters right now.”

“We’re doing just fine,” Alpha Haig said, defensively.

“Word is you’re on a Christmas tree farm,” Seth replied.

“Who told!?” Alpha Haig spat out.

“Word travels,” Seth managed to reply. Fucking Alpha had a “Taylor’s Christmas Tree Farm” calendar on the wall behind him. It was all so laughable, this charade. Seth bit his tongue hard to end the laugh inside. Hallelujah, this one’s a dummy. Seth’s pack stood a chance. “Any who, listen Alpha Haig. I wanted to offer my national park to you…”

“Interesting…” Alpha Haig replied. “I…” then he paused, his nostrils flaring slightly. Looking distracted for a second, he continued. “Tell me more.”

Seth continued, describing the park’s acreage, topography, and plentiful parking. “It’s being wasted on Alpha Pete,” Seth said, laying it on thick. “It takes a true alpha’s mind to see all the potential this national park has: hunting grounds, wild romps, training, natural spaces and defenses for us as predators. The men won’t go without a fight.”

Alpha Pete slid another sheet of folded paper across the table. Seth ignored it.

“Yes, indeed,” Alpha Haig said on the iPhone screen. His nostrils flared slightly again, and he shifted in his seat. “But it’s not mine to take. What of your Alpha?”

“I’ll take care of him,” Seth said, picking up the clear glass jug of wine off the floor. He held the bottle so it showed the label at the iPhone’s camera. “See?”

“What’s it say?” Alpha Haig leaned in, squinting.

“Uh… ‘Poison.’ Seth held the label closer to the screen.

“Oh! Excellent!” Alpha Haig literally clapped his hands. Seth was dying inside. Alpha Pete was right. Alpha Haig’s light bulb was very dim indeed.

“I’ll do the deed tomorrow, and then you bring your pack on Luna’s Eve,” Seth plowed forward. “You and your wolves can enter unimpeded from the north, and the mondjugen can drive in via the public gates.” Seth practiced extreme self-control as a paper airplane zoomed over his head. Across the room from him, Alpha Pete was making faces. Larry and Mullins were mock making out.

Dim. Bulbs. Indeed. Luna help us.

“You please me, wolf,” Alpha Haig’s voice rang through the phone. It was all so stilted, so theatrical. Seth sighed. “You’ll have your pick of the mondjugen yourself as a rewar—” Again, Alpha Haig look distracted. His nostrils flared. “Um yeah…” the Alpha lost his train of thought.

“You can use the same route as before,” Seth offered, testing him.

“Yes, we know the way,” Alpha Haig said, taking the bait.

“Those two cattle taste good?” Seth asked.

“Um, sure,” Alpha Haig replied, his nose truly distracted. He looked off to the left, giving some kind of signal to someone off-screen, a shrug, a request for information.

“Strange how you left no scent,” Seth continued. “None at all.”

“We have our ways. A really important way,” Alpha Haig directed himself back to the conversation.

“What kind of wa—”

“Poison your boy Pete and I’ll show you,” Alpha Haig cut in. All the wolves off-camera bristled. To address an Alpha without his honorific, even when not present. My stars! it just wasn’t done.

“Sure,” Seth acknowledged, pretending to give in. “I get it.”

Alpha Haig was about to speak more when he got distracted, evidently by another scent. This time, his eyes bugged out. “One minute,” he said, and muted the call. Reading lips as best he could, Seth could see Alpha Haig asking angrily to an unseen figure off screen. “Where is he?” the Alpha’s lips murmured “....are those? [Sniff!!]. Are those two fucking?!?!?”

As Seth watched, Xochitl’s latest WhatsApp popped onto his iPhone screen.

+++**Am missing my bebé so much. Still no answer from phone—no WhatsApp—no text. Now I truly worried. Help me please :pray: :pray: :pray:** +++

Again, Seth purposefully didn’t react. “Take your time, Alpha Haig,” the park ranger said as the muted wolfed continued to holler.

“Luna damnit, Schreider!” Alpha Haig swore through his muted mike, Seth still reading lips. that made Seth’s eyes widen. “We’ve preparing for war and our secret weapon is—” the Alpha moved off screen. He jostled the phone in the process, and it went askew. Revealing another wolf sitting at the table.

“Grant,” Alpha Pete said softly, recognizing the handyman wolf from Alpha Schreider’s pack, the one who had welcomed him into Alpha Schreider’s territory and so enthusiastically scented Bill during the Alpha Council. Right down to the coveralls. This was getting worse every second.

Hakim rolled onto his back on the open sleeping bag. His muscular legs were spread by the larger wolf. Carlos spat quickly into his hand, and then lubed it up. He looked down at the snack before him and whistled in appreciation. The prone black wolf smiled back, giving his million-watt pearly whites, eager and ready.

Hakim was entered without ceremony, nodding and panting the entire time.

Shifting to an angled position, Carlos lifted Hakin’s left leg and lurched it against his chest. The muscular bottom panted and keened below him. His hands shot up to caress and stroke and pinch, noting every twitch emitted on Carlos’s face. The larger wolf grinned back. He leaned forward and really went to town with his thrusts. Hakim’s legs were almost in a split at this point. He was in a complete haze of pleasure now.

Memories in Hakim’s head, of his former life, of being a ladies’ man, for having quite more than a few notches on his straight bedpost, of this manly black body plowing pussy—all of that garbage was forgotten.

Absolute garbage. It was erased from his mind. “Ah!!” Hakim grunted as Carlos jabbed someplace extra deep. It only egged the wolf on further. “Fuck me!” Hakim shouted desperately, clenching his chute against the advancing shaft and running his forearm across his sweating forehead.

The prior straight human Hakim, had he been welcomed in to view the rut, would have recoiled with horror and disgust at what his hot athletic body (which he’d worked so hard to build up) was now being put to use for. But the human Hakim was no more, and his wishes and preferences were absolutely irrelevant. The moon had found him and put him to good use as a wolf. Hakim was so lucky, without caveat. Praise Luna.

Hakim’s exposed pit and released scent from his raised arm made the aroused Carlos gasp in surprise, his brain exploding in fireworks. He went into a full animalistic rut.

It was rare that two wolves imprinted on one another so deeply. Sexual fidelity was not exactly desirable inside the pack where rutting helped to cool tempers and even out disputes. But some wolves did find those to which their scents ‘clicked.’ Carlos and Hakim’s were an extreme case indeed.

There really was no conscious thought at this point. Two happy animals grunted and ploughed; the bottom being seeded to the hilt. And then it was Hakim’s turn on top.

“You owe me,” Seth grumped as he clicked the red button on his WhatsApp screen.

Alpha Pete pushed a folded piece of paper across the table.

Seth snatched it up and opened it. [You were perfect 😊] it read, in graphite.

“Would you grow up?!” Seth crumbled the paper and pitched it at Alpha Pete’s head. The pissed-off wolf stomped off into his kitchen. “It’s like living in fricking ‘Animal House’ with you idiots!” he shouted from the other room. The sound of a soda can opening clicked through the house. Seth’s a rental supplemented by the park service. Other rangers bunked there but were conveniently assigned on night patrol at that moment by Seth during that time due to the cattle poachers in the area.

Larry rolled his eyes from the card table. He picked up the jug marked ‘Poison’ and poured himself a drink into a red solo cup. Looking back at his Alpha, the wolf asked, “So Alpha Schreider has joined Alpha Haig’s posse, huh?” He took a swig. Pretty good wine, Larry nodded to himself.

“Yep,” Alpha Pete’s grin fell.

“And we’re set to lure both these chuckleheads and their hacker-wolves into the national park. With them having some kind of ability to cover their scent. How does that even work? And then what? What do we do when they get here?”

“His wolves will be new, tech geeks, not trained experienced hunters like us. Never tested in battle, not more than six months old at most,” Alpha Pete said, reassuring himself as much as he was his pack brother. “And all the mondjugen won’t even be changed yet.” Alpha Pete rose, and he, Mullins, and Larry set to put away the folding chairs. “In that dense forest, in that hilly terrain, we can pick them off one by one, pretty easy. And get the mondjugen out of there, send them off far away.”

“That presumes an awful lot,” Seth shouted from the kitchen. Seth entered the doorway, silhouetted against the sharper fluorescent lights of the kitchen. Larry, Mullins and Alpha Pete enjoyed the outline of Seth’s musculature as he griped. “That Alpha Haig hasn’t trained the hackers to fight, that the mondjugen won’t be so poppered up on wolf musk that they refuse to leave, and that the number that comes is less than… God, I don’t know, twenty? For all we know, he’s bringing a thousand mondjugen! What if they have guns?” Seth moved back into the kitchen.

“And they can travel without scent,” Mullins reemphasized. “How are we supposed to track them, even know where they are?”

“Nothing doesn’t have a scent,” Alpha Pete asserted. “Somehow, they’re concealing themselves. Maybe only traveling in cars, which could limit their routes. Or bathing obsessively frequently. Any of that would slow them down. So at least they’ll be moving slowly.”

“Why does the werewolf pack always run late? Because they keep paws-ing for bath time!” Larry tried to make a joke. It plummeted like a rock into the Earth’s core. Even Alpha Pete looked away in embarrassment.

Bill stuck his head in through the front door. “Y’all mind if I order a pizza? Starving to death out where while you guys’ yammer away.”

“Depends. You using pack money or your own?”

Bill shrugged. “What’s in the piggy bank?”

“Check the mantel,” Seth called from the kitchen.

Larry picked up the pink depository and shook it. Not an insubstantial amount of coin jangled.

“Eh… we’re calling it a night aways,” Larry observed. “How about you go over to the diner and keep Xochitl company,” he called out to Bill. “She needs it right now. Think fast!” Larry gave an underhand toss, and Mullins gasped as he caught the jangling piggy.

Alpha Pete paced. “Look, we cannot do nothing. So this is something. At least we know the national park, at least we’re containing it. Even if it’s for a short period. We can reason with him more… we can—”

“We can get skinned alive by a thousand baby wolves when Luna comes,” Seth fretted from the kitchen. “This is the wors-shit!” he interrupted his own rant with a swear as an unseen glass broke on the floor.

Alpha Pete went into the kitchen and out of sight, but not out of smell. There were salty tears to greet him.

“Would it be so bad? More wolves?” the Chief asked Larry softly. Bill had a similarly grim face as Mullins placed the piggy bank back on the mantel. Bill gave a brief goodbye, his stomach complaining, and headed out the door.

The older and larger wolf sighed, watching his pack brother depart, and then looked back at Mullins. “As long as there have been mondjugen, we’ve found our packs at our own pace. Think about how you’ve coped with becoming a wolf, Chief. Disruptive. Difficult. Not easy, huh? The first month is hell. The stirrings, the panic, you’re barely in control. Recall?”

Mullins nodded.

“Now imagine making five—five hundred wolves go through that all at once, all in the same place? It’d be chaos, like a brood of cicadas. With dead bodies everywhere. And there’d be no stopping them. Feral, rapid, undisciplined as thirteen-year-olds. They won’t know what to do with themselves. And no way Alpha Haig or anyone else could keep up with them, control them.” Larry did not mince words. “Damn mondjugen would destroy the pack that created them, they’d destroy any human that came in their path, not even understanding why…”

Larry looked over at Mullins. “I know a world run by wolves sounds like fun. But humans are as protective of their kind as we are of ours. If the authorities… if people catch wind there really is something out there that goes bump in the night, it. Is. Over.” Larry emphasized the last part. “Mass panic, hunting posses a thousand men strong. Suspected wolves being summarily shot in the street, whether they’re actually were or not. Hell, they’ll call out the U.S. military and bomb the entire park into a smudge… oh what, you don’t believe me?” Larry responded to Mullins’ incredulousness.

“Look what men were capable of doing to one another in World War Two. At least they feel bad about that now. When they annihilate wolves, there won’t even be that kind of regret one hundred years hence.”

Mullins looked crestfallen. He’d only just become a wolf, and had not gone through the stirrings and the initiation of a divorce just to inherit this mess. “I feel for Alpha Haig, hun,” Larry said. “I get his frustration. But he’s lost in his own sense of grandeur, and he’s signing the death warrant for every mondjugen he’s tricked, and for us as well.”

Mullins looked at his watch. Shift was starting soon. “I gotta…”

Larry nodded and waved him to go. “Go… go protect the men,” the wolf said with his Tennessee twang as Mullins got up, putting a derisive emphasize on the last word.

“Keep me posted,” the Chief answered.

Larry put his hand on Mullins side. The Chief stopped and looked back. “Mullins,” Larry said finally. “Don’t you forget for one second what they would do to you, if they knew what you really are.”

They wallowed, pleasured, savoring one another. After three hours of hedonism, finally settling on their sides on the open sleeping bag and the other pulled up to keep them warm, the little spoon shared his story. “I’m six moons in,” Hakim said softly, shifting and settling into the giant jungle gym of a Latino behind him, savoring the stink of sex on his body, and his own scent mixed with Carlos’s. “I was rounding out my master’s at MIT. Biology. I was doing a fellowship at this biotech firm, when Alpha Haig introduced himself at one of their networking mixers.”

“How did he find you?” Carlos whispered, licking and nibbling on Hakim’s ear.

Hakim sighed at the sensation. “He got lucky. He got a wolf into his pack who worked at student records.” Hakim turned his head to ensure a better angle for Carlos. “Got a list of grad students with the right birthdates, the full moon births. Alpha Haig introduced himself to us at recruiting fares, playing dumb but knowing all along whom we were. Passed me his business card and said he wanted to talk. Said the magic words: six figures. Stock options. Foosball in the office.” Hakim laughed at himself.

The big spoon clutched his little spoon protectively. They had known each other only one day, but already he hated the idea of this man being preyed upon by Alpha Haig.

“That talk became two, and then several. Before long, I didn’t want to talk to anyone else at all.”

Carlos nodded behind him. Classic mondjugen recruitment.

“Then one night, he called me, said he had something to show me. Drove me up to Fresh Pond. I was totally glamoured then, no will of my own at all. Out into the woods, and chomp chomp, I was wolf.”

Carlos leaned in and kissed the meeting of Hakin’s shoulders, neck, and spine, right between the scapulas. The man’s bite scar soared above his line of sight, still relatively new.

“Alpha put me to work to get a larger database of mondjugen. Was able to replicate his list for every grad program in the country,” Hakim said, not modestly. “And from there, we got more than a few skilled techies. Grew the pack. And here we are.” Hakim reached around to grab Carlo’s wrist. He drew it back, enveloping himself in Carlo’s hug like a blanket.

While Hakim performed that action, Carlos noticed a small tattoo on the amazingly hot black wolf’s wrist, a three-pronged pendant.

“Nice tatt,” Carlos observed, knowingly. “The Celtic knot.”

“Oh? Thank you,” Hakim smiled.

“Have you taken your vows?” Carlos tested.

Hakim looked around from his small spoon position, genuinely surprised. “You know the craft?”

“Mi mamí,” Carlos confirmed.

“Ah!” Hakim smiled. “It’s a small world.”

“Claro,” Carlos whispered.

“Yeah, I dabbled,” Hakim finally came out with it. “Believe me, there’s no shortage of warlocks in Cambridge. Always recruiting. I explored it a little, learned the basics.” He sighed and savored Carlos’s body heat, surprised at how much he was enjoying this. “I never took my vows though. Luna found me first.”

“But you can still…”

“Conjure? Like I said, the basics…. Huhhhhh.” Hakim lost his train of thought as Carlos’s member grew firm in between Hakim’s cheeks and the larger wolves’ kisses became more aggressive and hungrier.

Praise Luna and her many gifts, Hakim thought as he ground his pelvis back against the giant wolf behind him.

Zach looked up from the dispatcher desk, and smiled brightly as he saw, through the glass, the Chief walking into the outer precinct room, adjacent to the dispatcher pen. The mondjugen had taken to volunteering for all the open dispatcher shifts. The better to understand all of the communities’ issues, the better to understand the realities of coordinating police, fire, and EMTs, the sheriff, the park police, the… the better to ensure he could get alone time with the Chief, Zach began to admit to himself. He’d packed a towel and an extra uniform.

“Hey Chief,” Zach called out, turning his chair. He sat up a little straighter, to show respect and to accommodate his rapidly forming erection.

There had been a lot of activity on the dispatcher desk that shift. A lot of movement of vehicles over the ridge observed, on country roads. Strange, not exactly threatening, but weird. “Come in here, I got something to show you.”

Mullins smiled as he opened the door to the pen. Then the smell hit him like a sledgehammer.

And the Chief’s face fell.

“Yousef?!?!?” Mullins blurted out. The mondjugen smelled like muscle-bound Lebanese wolf. Reeked of Mullins’ pack brother. The scent was faded, probably from last night. But it was concentrated, and it was real. “You..”

“What, my personal trainer?” Zach asked, confused. But something at base of his brainstem understood.

“You fucking whore!!” Mullins half wailed, half raged. The giant pile of muscle wildly punched at Zach.

The mondjugen yelped and fell of the chair, scrambling under the dispatcher desk instinctively. The wire for the radio headset still on his head. The wire drug across the counter, bringing three-ring binders and soda bottles falling to the floor. “Chief! Stop!” Zach yelled from the back of the desk’s leg space as a much larger Mullins swatted at him. The Chief’s bulky muscles preventing him from getting fully below the desk ledge.

“I was gonna give you everything!!” Mullins shouted. He was in tears. The wolf did not even know what ‘everything’ meant. It all hurt so much. He was losing everything! First Mary and the kids, his pack in danger, and now his mondjugen. His! His mondjugen!!

“What the fuck is going on?” Zach shouted back, holding up his arms to shield for the wild swipes. He was just out of reach. His right hand when to his side arm.

Zach was in a crisis of his own. His human brain and his human logic asserted itself. “What are you doing to me? All of this? What the fuck are you doing to me?” Zach could feel his cravings for the Chief’s smell, for the Chief’s piss, for the Chief’s everything. He pushed it back down, his adrenaline ensuring he did it decisively. “What… what are you, Chief?” Zach’s tone became measured. For the first time, Zach grew suspicious.

“I’m… I’m your Chief, your commanding officer,” Mullins answered, seeing his mondjugen’s hand on his gun in the belt. He backed up slightly.

“No. What. Are. You?” Zach panted, getting tangled up in the electrical and cable cords under the desk, his hand leaving his gun in the effort. “What the fuck is all this about?”

“Shut up! Go ask your fucking gym boy lover, you fucking slut,” Mullins spat out, intending to hurt. He stormed out of the dispatcher unit.

Zach’s instincts told him to stay below the desk until the smell dissipated. He panted, trying to hold back tears. Without the scent of wolf near, all of the experiences of the past few weeks, the submission, dreaminess, the water sports, the… the getting fucked in the ass at the gym by his personal trainer…” Zach gasped at himself. None of it made any sense. He was a straight man. Had been a straight man all of his life. Didn’t desire men on the sidewalk, at the gym, anywhere in this life. Said so on his Tindr and his Bumble. But as soon as he’d arrived at the precinct, met the Chief, met Yousef… It all felt so so good, and a part of Zach didn’t want it to stop, would not let it stop.

Thinking about the Chief, thinking about Yousef as he just had, made Zach immediately randy. Despite his self-reflection and fear just then, the need for sexual release asserted itself. In the burrow he’d made below the desk, Zach began to pant unconsciously. Also unconsciously, he reached down and started pawing his erection through his uniform pants. The hardness, the buzzing need for release with the intensity he had not felt since he was nineteen years old… all of this was inspired by the Chief’s presence, by the experience late yesterday at Mountain Peaks’ showers, by the idea that this could and would all keep happening, that he could be so desired by these large virile special-smelling men. Oh my God…

Zach brought his cock out, cradling it in his hand as he began to jerk. It was no longer a question of if he would jack off. His body demanded it.

Zach had a piece—firm, thick, pink. His black bush was tangled and wild, typical of the straight breed. His balls were full, egg-sized, pulled up close to home. The scent of his manhood infested Zach’s nose, driving him on further. Zach’s right arm, black hair coated, now totally jacked and still growing, worked furiously. The man gasped and moaned. Everything outside was so crazy and dangerous; this—this—was certain. This! This was solely his. A genuine smile spread across his jacking face.

Zach had already experienced personal growth. That is, he’d gained like thirty pounds of muscle since his start at this job, and his junk had kept up. Now, aroused and inspired, Zach witnessed his cock visibly pulse a size larger, right in his hand. The mondjugen gasped, and then his gasp was interrupted by a groan as his entire shoulders and chest jutted out and up, jolting him to his core. Two of Zach’s uniform top buttons burst off as his pecs thrust out a size or two, and the man had to adjust his kneeling stance. Someplace, somewhere on his form, unseen fabric ripped. The man’s head bumped against the bottom of the desktop. A growing boy indeed.

“What the fuck?!” Zach panted. He wanted to panic, to run, to get help. But his cock demanded his attention, and he obeyed. Kneeling, the even bigger mondjugen jerked furiously, the scent of his human musk tantalizing his nostrils.

The cop came. Oh my, how he came.

That smiling face, and that black-haired buzz cut now had cum all over it. The rookie cop licked it up, half disgusted, half intrigued.

Zach’s breathing evened, and he growled a bit in satisfaction sniffing in the scent of his own spunk on his face. The uniform would need to be dry-cleaned again. And a trip to the tailor to accommodate the new size. The pants too. The rear was now impossibly tight.

A minute more, and Zach had collected himself enough to crawl out from under the desk. Thank God the dispatcher radio had been quiet. Feeling impossible constricted in his now too-tight uniform and feeling sheepish about the very visible and obvious cum stains all over his front, Zach checked the clock. His relief would come in about ten minutes.

Zach nodded to himself. He knew exactly what he needed to do next. He licked his lip again, savoring the taste.

Carlos and Hakim both woke up with a start from their snooze at the sudden loud banging at the modular unit’s door.

“Hey lovebirds!” one of the other wolves (the one in the coveralls, Carlos recalled) shouted through the barrier. “Get yer rear in gear. Alpha Haig says we’re shipping out!” A few more gratuitous bangs on the door, and wolves’ scent began to dissipate.

“Jesus, how long were we out?” Hakim murmured and clutched to Carlos further. They were both nude, still on the now filthy open sleeping bags and using the other as a blanket, olive and black skin braided together. Carlos nuzzled him further, and two descended into heavy grunting making out.

It took two more banging warnings at the door for the two get up. There was a make-shift shower at the other end of the unit. The two walked over, not bothering to get dressed. Each of their hard manhoods dangled and swung partially hard between their quads, spent and almost raw from use. Hakim pulled the shower curtain open and leaned in to turn the water on.

The wolf held back from getting into the stream. “It takes a second to get warm,” Hakim nodded at the water, as he and Carlos hugged alongside the shower, pressing their pelvises together. Bare and hard cocks nested in one another’s pubes and their minds sighed the deepest contentment a male can. The mates performed a slow dance of sorts, ending up leaning against the wall and making out.

After two minutes or so, Carlos broke the kiss. Just what the fuck is this? He asked himself, smiling at Hakim, at this, all of this. “Tank’s gonna run out,” he nodded at the short, and both smiled sheepishly.

About to step in over the shower stall lip, Hakim paused. He smiled. He rocked his body a second and started to enter again. Again, the wolf paused. In the awkward pause, Hakim gave a really wide grin and a small laugh, lowering his head. He reached and shut the water off.

“What?” Carlos whispered incredulously, hugging Hakim again as the shorter wolf nuzzled at his neck.

“I… I… Sorry, Carlos,” Hakim finally laughed it out. “I can’t…” he gave a short sigh of exasperation. “I can’t bear to wash your scent off of me,” the million-watt grin finally admitted. He was aggressively nuzzling Carlos now, rubbing and mashing his face into Carlos’ neck and pecs. Carlos gave a billion-watt grin in return. He pulled Hakim’s up to meet his own, and the two kissed deeply. It was a moan-inducing kiss, as their heads swayed and bobbed against one another.

Hakim dove down again to lick Carlos’s clavicles. Carlos lifted one of his arms, flexing a bicep. Hakim growled in satisfaction and drove his face into the pit. The beautiful muscular black man absolutely feasted, and Carlos purred. One pit, and then the other, until Hakim’s tongue was sandpaper, and his human muzzle stank of nothing by Carlos.

The door banged again. “Get a move on, ingrates!” Alpha Haig shouted through the door.

Carlos was more on task than Hakim. Even in enemy territory, his dedication to order in the pack moved him. The muscular wolf maneuvered himself and his mate together into the shower stall and turned the water on again. Water, the perfect temperature, poured across their deep French kiss. They clutched at the backs of each other’s heads, pulling in. Sputtering in the shower water. Pressing so close they were getting razor burn. No matter. No closeness was close enough.

“I got to get moving,” Hakim said, toweling off when they were done. “Pack needs me.”

“Needs you for what?” Carlos asked, nodding his thanks as Hakim passed him a towel.

“I’m a techie, but I have some other skills to contribute,” Hakim raised his eyebrows playfully, and flashed his wrist tattoo. The most beautiful man Carlos had ever smelled kissed him once more, and they both sighed their passion and satisfaction. Then the new wolf in Carlos’s life, still nude, headed out of the trailer and into the rows of Christmas trees.

Bill put the diner menu down. He thought to raise his hand to signal for an order but thought better of it. Xochitl looked truly upset, and there were no other waiters behind the counter. She really should not have been working today, the wolf fretted.

The cute Latino busboy eventually took his order. Bill gave him a wink as the busboy turned to go. A calculated risk.

The busboy gave an embarrassed smile and kept walking. Bill smiled; a bit satisfied with himself and looked back forward across the counter. He knew the guy wasn’t mondjugen (inquiries had been made). But nothing wrong with fun on the side. If Alpha Pete could do it…

Bill had gone to the diner to clear his head. The intrigue over warring packs, of Alpha Haig and his new army, of the end of mankind… it was all getting heavy. Bill never really had a happy home life, back when he was human. He’d been as solitary as a coyote before he found his way to Luna. So, the pack, the diner, Xochitl, and the community that grouped there, it made him feel home. Even alone at the diner counter, he felt good, safe.

Xochitl came over a few minutes later, her eyes tired, no makeup. “Hola, chico,” she tried to sound bright as she brought over his diet soda and lemon, but it was a feeble effort.

“We’re looking for him,” Bill offered, trying to sound resolute. With the confirmation that Alpha Haig and his goons had poached the cows on his own pack’s land, and these new grandiose plans of world domination or whatever, it was pretty certain they’d taken Carlos too. Without leaving a trace of a scent. It was deeply disturbing. “I think we’re going to be seeing him again soon,” Bill hinted.

Xochitl nodded and started wiping down the empty stretch of counter next to Bill. “I know, joven. I just worry for my Carlitos. You’ll understand when you’re a papa someday—” she paused, and grimaced.

“It’s okay,” Bill nodded back sadly.

“It’s so unlike him. They’ve taken his phone, so what else are they doing to him?” Xochitl opened up the large garbage bin behind the counter to throw away her rag.

“Unnnnnh!!” Bill called out in surprise; his ultra-sensitive wolf nose inhaled the pungent rotting food aroma. None of the waitstaff had emptied the bin from the lunch rush. It was as painful to the wolf as an unexpecting human looking up from stage center being hit with a spotlight in the retinas. “Blech!!” Bill’s hand flew to his nose. He almost jumped off from the stool, reflexively wanting to get away.

“Oh sorry, joven!” Xochitl dropped the lip of the bin. It didn’t land at the center, and fell to one side, leaving the trash still uncovered. Her hand free, the witch murmured something under her breath, and with a flick of her braceleted wrist, the pungency was immediately gone. Unnaturally gone.

“What was that?” Bill asked, confused, uncovering his nose.

“Oh, I do a sealing spell,” Xochitl whispered as she bent to retrieve the bin lid from the floor. “It’s a small thing.” She started typing up the garbage bag and pulled it out of the bin. She looked along the diner line; it was relatively quiet. “I really should not be doing that in public? I forgot myself. Carlos is sensitive to strong smells too.” The busboy came over at her signal and drug the trash away.

“You can stop… you can stop smells?…” Bill ruminated.

“Seal them in, sí, chico,” Xochitl nodded, washing her hands at the sink, and then starting to place napkins and silverware settings at the empty stools next to Bill. “It’s an easy one. Temporary. Not a big deal.”

“How… easy?”

Xochitl gave him a strange look. “Pretty simple. Any brujo, any witch or warlock learns it pretty early. Goes back to dark ages, lots of smells back then, in slums of Paris and everyplace.”

“No scent…” Bill said softly, turning on his stool forward to the counter. His tone grew more intense. “No scent… no scent… no scent!” Panting like the character Chunk in the film ‘The Goonies’ after discovering the SUV with bullet holes in the garage (Larry and Tom had introduced Bill to it just last weekend after they’d railed him like a whore), Bill dashed out of the diner. “No scent!!”

Xochitl looked at the young man running off with confusion. “No scent?” she asked herself.

Bill literally dove into the bushes alongside the diner, knocking over the newspaper stands alongside the door in the process. Several mourning doves exploded off into the sky, disturbed from their roosting spot.

Bill transformed into a wolf at record speed, his clothes audibly ripping to shreds. He knew Alpha Haig’s secret weapon. The burly wolf bolted off across the parking lot, running right out of his shoes, past the poor hot mortal busboy returning from the dumpster, full tilt, into the woods. No scent!!

An army of wolves was approaching, but they would have no scent at all. No scent at all.

Bill sped through the trees like a rocket.

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